“The point is that we need to control this situation,” Damir said. “We took action the moment we learned about this, of course, but we underestimated our adversaries. Mr. Slaan had assured me his student wouldn’t know about the spark, so I sent only a small group to confront him and bargain for the cube.”
Tenel grunted. “I’m guessing Moore escaped.”
“Yes, along with all of his companions. In fact, they killed our operatives on sight just for asking about the tomb.”
Slaan’s face creased. “Jason is many things, but he isn’t a killer. I don’t understand how—”
The man’s head abruptly sagged forward and smashed down onto the table like Damir had flicked the switch on a glowlamp. He was alive but unconscious…and once again Tenel fought to repress a shiver. The power of a Sovereign…
“When our operatives failed, I dispatched a Shadow to obtain the item instead,” Damir continued as if nothing had happened. “It tracked them into a town named Taig and attempted to capture it, but somehow they escaped again.”
Tenel grimaced. To the public at-large, Shadows were mostly just a horror story meant to keep people in line. But the military knew better. Occasionally the Zarul would assign Shadows to aid with sensitive missions, and Tenel had always been both awed and a little horrified at their power and efficiency. How a glorified scavenger and his band of ruffians could possibly defeat such a thing was a mystery.
“Do we know anything about Moore’s companions?” he asked.
Damir opened her palm. A shimmering three dimensional image appeared inside it, and Tenel’s eyebrows raised in confusion. A second later he realized the image was similar to those projected by her mirrors. She was showing him exactly what the Shadow had seen earlier. It appeared to be the gate of a mid-sized city, and four people on horseback trotted inside: two human men, a chagari, and an elf female.
“This is exactly what my operative saw while he tracked them around Taig,” the Sovereign explained.
The image was miraculously detailed, and Tenel couldn’t help but boggle for the first few seconds. His Imperators on the Perilous created similar projections during battles, but theirs were often vague and indistinct. He only really used them to track the positions of ships in an enemy fleet. But this…this was as good as seeing it with his own eyes.
“I know that woman,” Tenel said finally. “They called her the General’s Witch at Kiersale Keep when I was on the ground there. Our Imperators all blamed her for making the terrain nearly impassable. I’m not sure anyone ever figured out why Moore had an elf fighting at his side.”
“She’s now a criminal along with his son, apparently,” Damir replied. “We believe the other man is an undocumented Unbound, probably also Galvian. The chagari is likely a mercenary tag-along.”
Tenel nodded. “At least it explains how they killed a Shadow. My people were terrified of that elf witch during the war.”
“He bypassed her easily enough, actually, but Moore had other help.” She twitched her fingers, and the image focused upon a tall human woman clad in leather armor.
“An Asgardian warrior of some kind,” Tenel murmured. He had always considered himself fortunate not to have battled many of the northerners before. They were a sturdy and powerful folk, and he always respected their code of honor. “Moore certainly picks strange allies.”
“She’s not just an Asgardian,” Damir said. “She is the cousin of King Zharrs himself.”
Tenel shook his head. “Why would an Asgardian noble sully herself by associating with a known criminal and scavenger?”
“They have a long history together. But the important thing is that she managed to track the Shadow across the city—no small task for anyone, let alone a Sightless. She disrupted his plans slightly, but the major glitch was the spark itself. Somehow Moore managed to use it.”
“Use it?” Tenel asked. “He has already Ascended?”
“No, not like that.” Damir changed the image a third time. This time it replayed what were apparently the last few seconds of the Shadow’s life. He was inside what appeared to be a room at an inn, and a human male—probably Moore—was knocked prone on the ground. He was clutching onto a strange cube, and as the Shadow approached a beam of searing light shot out and blasted into him.
Damir let the image repeat several times before closing her palm. “We believe they are now heading to Lyebel. It’s likely they’re going to make contact with the Resistance, given Moore’s past connections.”
Tenel nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. “I assume you’ve warned the city watch commander?”
“No. I would still prefer to keep this quiet for the moment. Consider the ramifications if anyone learned that there was an object capable of transforming them into an Ascendant.”
Tenel bit down on his lip. “I imagine Sovereign Verrator would be…annoyed if he found out this was going on under his watch.”
“The Sovereign is busy trying to hold back the Resistance,” Damir replied. “Besides, he would only get in the way.”
“I see,” Tenel murmured, though of course he didn’t. He had no interest in politics, especially whatever went on between the Sovereigns. “Are you planning on sending more Shadows, then?”
“Possibly, but we have other options. I want you to review the information on the resistance movement, Admiral. Profiles of known sympathizers, their tactics, and so forth. I also want you to study up on Moore and his group. I estimate they will reach the city within the next three days—I would like your analysis on them and their likely behaviors by tomorrow.”
Tenel eyed the piles of papers on the desk. “What about the war effort? Any new information on the Solarian coup?”
“Nothing new. Right now I want this to be your top priority. If we can obtain this cube, it would be a significant advantage for us in the war—think of it as a contingency if the coup fails.”
“If the Resistance gets a hold of a divine spark, they could take Lyebel,” he said gravely.
“Or worse,” Damir warned. “A new Ascendant could seriously threaten the balance of power in Torsia. We cannot allow that to happen.”
Tenel clenched his teeth. “We won’t.”
The Sovereign smiled faintly. “I also figured your personal connection to the Moore family would inspire you.”
Tenel nodded. Moore had obviously inherited his father’s murderous blood, and he had never imagined that he would see the elf witch again. Her people, the so-called “elysians,” rarely left their home continent of Calhara. But apparently she was just as bloodthirsty as Moore.
Tenel took a deep breath. At times like this, he couldn’t understand how anyone could possibly complain about the “tyranny” of the Imperium when such dangerous people roamed the world. Solaria had always been quick to jump to the defense of weak nations like Galvia, but what type of nation could allow a butcher like Ethan Moore to come to power? The Alliance loved to flaunt the merits of its Council and their elected lords, but in times of war the military always ended up with control anyway, and then people like Moore could sate their insatiable appetite for destruction.
The Imperium was hardly perfect, but the bottom line was that Torsia needed security. A people could not be free to live their lives unless they were safe, and safety was exactly what the Imperium offered. The Sovereigns, for all their faults, understood that much. They accepted the harsh realities of the world and worked to temper them. And here, working with Damir, he had a chance to make a difference. These lifelong criminals could finally be brought to justice.
Chalandra wouldn’t like it at all, but he would definitely be able to do more good here than on the decks of the Perilous patrolling an empty sea. Here he had a real chance to get vengeance for their son and for all the children who had died in the last war. Once he was able to speak with her again, he was sure he could convince her of that. Maybe by then he could even tell her about the death of Ethan Moore’s son and consort. Maybe it would bring peace to his own son’s memory.<
br />
“I will get to work immediately, Your Eminence,” he said.
Damir smiled. “Excellent.” She started to turn but paused when her gaze swept over the comatose man across the table. “Oh, I’ll have Mr. Slaan’s body removed. We’ll keep him around for a bit in case we need more information.”
Tenel looked to the unconscious figure. “So he bribed a Zarul agent to pilfer an ancient ruin and keep this spark for himself?”
“That seems to have been his plan,” Damir said. “Of course, he just assumed the Imperator was a simple soldier looking for some extra gold.”
“Big mistake,” Tenel said.
“Indeed. Sometimes justice manages to work itself out.” Damir smiled coldly. “And when it doesn’t…well, that’s when the Zarul steps in.”
Chapter Ten
“If only a good man like you had found my brother before his accident. There have to be hundreds of children out there who don’t understand what is happening to them. I want to help you find them and take care of them. I owe it to my brother’s memory.”
—Krystia Tharule, in a letter to Headmaster Velle of the Solarian Academy of Aether Studies
The Frostpeak Mountains were, as their name suggested, covered in a perpetual layer of snow and ice. Despite the king’s best efforts to build a walkable path up the mountain, the journey from Celenest to the Solarian Academy of Aether Studies—otherwise known as the Unbound Asylum—remained one of the most dangerous routes in the entire nation. The only feasible means of travel for anyone without access to magic was to fly in via eagle or griffon, and that was exactly the method Krystia had chosen today.
Clenching her teeth against the constantly shifting sleet, she pulled hard on the reins of her giant white eagle and steered it down towards the expansive crystalline structure nestled neatly on the Frostpeak Summit. Even most experienced riders found this part of the approach difficult; the intense cold, bracing wind, and near constant flurry of snow could be just as lethal as an avalanche at times. Thankfully, her powers were up to the challenge. She had wrapped both herself and her eagle, Oren, in a warm barrier of Aetheric energy, and while the sleet and resulting poor visibility was still a minor problem, they had managed well enough.
Eventually they set down in the Academy courtyard a few hundred feet from the main doors. The academy had no stables, no flying guardians, and no obvious embedded defenses. The scouts in the mountain towers would have seen her coming, of course, but they didn’t signal or attempt to stop her. Even if she hadn’t been expected, they probably wouldn’t have reacted yet. The priests who watched over the Asylum were completely confident in their defenses, both natural and otherwise, and they probably didn’t consider a single rider a threat. As far as Krystia knew, no one had ever been suicidal enough to attack this place, and she wasn’t planning on being the first. Not yet, at least.
She slid off Oren and offered him a pouch of grubs as a reward. He devoured them greedily, and she brushed her hand across his neck. Giant white eagles were highly coveted personal mounts all across Torsia, not just for their rarity and splendor but also for their surprisingly keen intellects. Sadly, despite his twenty foot wingspan, Oren was a poor combat mount. Eagle riders had to be light and largely unencumbered with armor or cargo, and even the most well trained birds still spooked easily. Still, they cost quadruple that of a standard Solarian war griffon, and she would never have been able to afford one on her own. Oren had been a gift from a wealthy businessman after Krystia had saved his wife from a crippling disease.
Once the eagle had been sated, she tied him up to a nearby pole, dispelled her protective barrier, and then dashed towards the doorway before the cold could bite too harshly at her skin. As tempting as it was to unleash a gout of Aetheric flame and sear herself a clear path, she was here to play a specific role—namely, that of an innocent young noblewoman enamored with a kindly old man who spent his days helping the nation’s beleaguered Unbound. She made sure to stumble just enough to get some snow in her boots, and then she made a show of nearly slipping on a patch of ice. Mere seconds later, the Asylum doors swung open and a tall but stooping man hurriedly jogged over to greet her.
“Oh, my dear, you’re early!” Headmaster Velle said as he reached out to steady her. He was sheathed inside his own protective barrier, naturally, and the air warmed around her even as she took his hand. “If I’d known, I would have sent some men out to greet you.”
“I’m all right,” Krystia assured him with her warmest smile. Based on the letters she had exchanged with him over the past few months, Headmaster Velle was a lonely old priest who had spent far too long sequestered up here away from the rest of the world. At first, she had been ashamed about manipulating such a sweet and hapless man, and seeing him in person right now made the old twinges of guilt return with a vengeance. But then she reminded himself that this “sweet and hapless” man was personally responsible for holding hundreds of innocent Unbound captive, and she was the only one in the Alliance capable of freeing them. She had nothing to feel guilty about.
“You should have landed closer,” he said as he helped her walk. “The guards wouldn’t have minded; they knew you were coming.”
“I tried, but I can never convince him to land close to buildings,” she replied, glancing back over her shoulder to Oren. “He gets spooked very easily.”
Velle grunted. “Well, in my day parents didn’t allow their daughters to fly across the country without an escort. I can’t believe they didn’t send a single guard with you.”
“I assured them you’d take care of me. They trust in His Majesty’s vassals.”
“You didn’t tell them where you were going, did you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Some of the details might have slipped my mind,” Krystia said sheepishly, forcing a shiver. “But I trust you, and that’s what matters.”
“I suppose so,” Velle replied, chuckling and sliding a hand around her waist. “Let’s get you inside.”
She faked a few stumbles along the way, and by the time they finally reached the door his arms were all over her. Once they stepped inside, however, Krystia couldn’t help but slip free and gape at her surroundings. The entire Asylum was crafted from a thick, opaque crystal that gave the impression she was standing in the heart of a glass fortress. The reason for the design wasn’t immediately apparent, but according to her research these crystals had the remarkable ability to “dampen” Aetheric energy, and if they were aligned in the proper way they could make it exceedingly difficult for a channeler to gather enough power to fuel his or her spells. She didn’t know if they were naturally occurring or not, but it didn’t really matter—the visual effect was truly awe-inspiring, and that was assuredly part of the design plan, too.
“It’s more beautiful than I imagined,” she said as she shook the snow off her jacket and removed her hat and scarf. The long black locks of her wig spilled across her shoulders, and she could feel the tremor in his emotions even without channeling. He was completely enamored with her...and she had him precisely where she wanted him.
This entire adventure had actually been Ethan’s suggestion. He believed it was probably the safest way for her to learn more about the Asylum without tipping off the Voice or the other priests. Technically, everything about the Asylum was confidential; His Majesty didn’t want anyone, not even his direct servants, learning any more than they absolutely had to about the Unbound prisoners or the workings of this facility. Areekan and his Voice trusted Krystia, of course, but they knew she didn’t always agree with the way the Alliance treated its Unbound. If she started snooping around for official records, they would grow suspicious very quickly.
That was also why she was forced to travel in disguise. Velle and the other Bound living here were still direct conduits to Areekan, and while she doubted the king wasted much of his limited attention focusing on a few remote priests, there was no reason to take any unnecessary risks. If the king learned about this dalliance, her alter ego
would simply vanish and that would be the end of it.
Thankfully, thus far Areekan hadn’t seemed to take notice. She had already met Velle once a few weeks ago in Tulia, the large mercantile city at the base of the Frostpeaks. The encounter had been brief, but she had learned a great deal about the Asylum’s inner workings and even some background on a few of its current “students.” More importantly, however, it had also allowed her get a better read on Velle and his channeling abilities. The Bound stationed here had been specially trained to deal with other channelers, and at first she had assumed he would be able to completely block out her mental intrusions. But with a bit of care and a few physical distractions here and there, she had finally managed to slip inside…and after that, he had effectively become her puppet.
Before they parted, she had altered his memories of the encounter. Despite her guise as the naïve noblewoman interested in serving king, country, and the poor souls who resided here, Krystia knew that Velle would have left disappointed if she hadn’t at least let him touch her a bit. So she had convinced his mind that they’d spent the better part of an hour “teasing” each other before she finally left. And of course, she had included hints that their next encounter would go even further.
His mind was already racing at the possibility of getting her alone in his quarters later, but hopefully he could contain himself long enough for her to get the answers she needed. If not, she would need to enter his mind again…and unfortunately every push risked alerting the king to her presence. She would need to be careful.
“Uck, so much snow in my boots!” she said, wrinkling her nose as she continued to undress.
“The floors are much warmer than they look,” he assured her, taking her coat.
Krystia started to peel the boots off, but staggered and nearly fell before he caught her with a laugh. “They’re slick, too!”
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