Alistan’s lips curled as if he had just noticed a bad taste in his mouth. “Indeed. My apologies, Dame…?
“Devarath,” Elade said, offering him her hand. The old man winced when he caught site of her markings, and for a moment Darius actually thought he would be so boorish as to pull away. Instead his awkward smile simply twisted in another direction.
“Well, you may or may not wish to share this with your ‘fiends,’” he said, pulling out a scroll case and handing it to Darius.
“What is it?” he asked.
“An intelligence report from one of my men in Lyebel,” Alistan said. “It came in today and seemed imminently relevant, so I figured I would pass it along to the only Legion General in the city.”
Darius didn’t bother to hide the surprise on his face. All of the councilors had their own network of spies, of course, but they rarely if ever shared their findings with anyone else, especially their direct rivals. Alistan must have had a very specific reason to bring this to him…
“I’ll summarize the major points,” Alistan said as Darius opened the case. “First, the Crell garrison in Lyebel is officially falling apart. My people on the ground are betting the Resistance will control the city by the end of the winter, with a real push coming once the snow cuts off reinforcements from the south. Second, there are increasing reports of…demonic activity in the city.”
Darius had only just unrolled the report, but his eyes flicked up to the old man. Alistan’s expression was hard, but there was a trace of authentic anxiety behind his eyes. He was clearly giving Darius this report now for a reason…but that didn’t necessarily mean it was true.
“There have been unsubstantiated claims about a demonic infestation for months,” Darius pointed out. “Our people have never been able to confirm them.”
“Believe me, I know,” Alistan said. “But my people on the ground have noticed a number of very suspicious changes within the local Crell command structure, both in Lyebel and the surrounding villages. Many of the officers have experienced, shall we say, significant disruptions in their personal and professional lives.”
“In other words, you think they have been possessed,” Darius reasoned. “But that’s hardly what I call iron-clad evidence.”
“No, but I assumed you would still wish to see the reports personally. If there is any truth in these claims, then the situation in Lyebel may be far more precarious than we thought.”
“Enough to change your position on the general’s planned offensive?” Krystia asked.
Alistan cocked an eyebrow at her as if noticing her for the first time. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “If you find evidence of a true infestation, this will no longer be a matter of a preemptive attack against a potential enemy—this will be an incursion to protect the people of Torsia.”
“So it would,” Darius whispered, tapping his chin in thought. He had never seriously considered the reports about demons, but he had realized that it would be an effective way to get the knights involved. Now Alistan was effectively giving them all a way out of this mess—find demons, and the Council would look the other way.
“If there is any demonic activity within Lyebel, Highlord Dracian and I will be able to find it,” Elade said after a moment.
“We eagerly await your report,” Alistan said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to on the other side of the city. Please let me know if you need anything further.”
Darius offered a short bow, and Elade and Krystia both followed suit. A few moments later he was gone, and Darius skimmed through the reports as quickly as he could.
“How did his people dig this up but yours didn’t?” Elade asked. Her eyes, he noticed, hadn’t left the path Alistan had just left.
“We did, but these accounts are just more detailed,” he explained. “To be honest, we barely have the funding to support advanced scouts at this point. The Council cut the bottom of the army’s coin purse after the last war and then again after Serogar.”
“It’s disgraceful,” Krystia said, shaking her head. “The councilors shove more money into their own spy networks than the military that supports them.”
“The timing is certainly convenient,” Elade said. “Isn’t Alistan one of your biggest detractors?”
Krystia nodded. “He wants nothing to do with an armed conflict; he’s vehemently opposed every argument Darius has thrown out.”
“Not all, but most,” Darius corrected. “Alistan knows that his lands are the most vulnerable if there’s another war, but he also has first-hand experience with demons. After Serogar, I wouldn’t be surprised if he considers this a real threat.”
“Mm,” Elade murmured noncommittally.
“In any event, what this really means is that now his Majesty is going to want you and Tevek to speak with the Resistance and check out rumors of demons. So as usual, the Last Dawn gets to put in the real work.”
“Whether he asked directly or not, Tevek would insist on checking for demons anyway,” Elade said. “And I’m sure Lord Alistan knows that.”
Krystia raised an eyebrow. “What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing—yet,” the vaeyn replied. “I just don’t care for his timing. But I suppose it doesn’t really change anything in the end.”
“I’m sure the Highlord will want to look these over personally,” Darius said.
“Of that,” Elade whispered, “I have no doubt.”
***
The King’s Tower may have housed a spectacular garden and a vineyard that would rival the most decadent Izarian chateau, but at the end of the day it was still a stronghold. The barracks was well concealed from public view, and many of its defenses were likewise invisible to the naked eye. But Tevek knew how potent they were: the barracks held the royal guard and a hundred other elite troops, and many of the corridors were riddled with mechanical defenses designed to slow any attacking force. It would take a sizeable force to breach the tower with a brute force attack.
In the event the defenses did crumble, the King’s chamber itself was heavily fortified. The first door was guarded by two of the royal guards, men who were, like Tevek, trained as channelers and soldiers at once. The door itself would only open to a Bound properly attuned to Areekan’s will—which Tevek took to mean the keyless locking mechanism required a channeler capable of manipulating its parts remotely, and one who knew exactly which pieces to push and when. Inside this reinforced door was a twenty foot stretch of solid steel on all sides that led to yet another doorway and Tevek’s least favorite part of visiting Areekan: the “purification chamber.” The walls in the small, ten-by-ten area were embedded with dampening crystals that effectively “sucked” away traces of Aether from the nearby area, and as a result he was temporarily severed from his connection to the divine spirit of Maeleon and the other knights.
But afterwards, thankfully, was the king’s personal chamber. Tevek had always considered a personal refuge, of sorts, a small home tucked behind tons of steel and rock where an Ascendant could live his life vicariously through his servants. Everything Areekan’s physical body could need was present, here, be it food, water, or even a shower. A bed was present as well, though few Ascendants were actually capable of sleeping with the thoughts of thousands of their Bound constantly whispering in their minds at all times. Fortunately for them, the Aether itself provided their bodies most of the nourishment and rest it required.
“My old friend,” Areekan said in a raspy voice as Tevek and Kaeldar finally approached. He didn’t move, but he did manage a weak smile. The man was ninety-five years old, though he had started to seem truly ancient these past few years. His white beard was unkempt, and his eyes had glazed over with a white haze. He probably couldn’t even see, not that conventional vision was particularly important for an Ascendant.
“Your Majesty,” Tevek said, kneeling. “As always, I am humbled by your presence.”
“Rise, my friends,” Areekan replied, shaking his head at their display of submission. “This is not
a day for such niceties.”
Tevek and Kaeldar stood, and as always the Voice’s face bore a strange expression whenever he stood this close to his king. Tevek had always assumed it had something to do with the strength of their bond; Kaeldar quite literally spoke the king’s words so often that standing so close must have been awkward.
“I had wondered if you might travel alone,” Areekan commented. “It is good to see you brought another with you.”
“I considered bringing more of my knights, but I wanted to speak with you first, Sire,” Tevek said. “Still, I couldn’t travel completely alone. The other members of Conclave already dislike the fact I leave the Citadel at all.”
“Paladins aren’t meant to sit behind desks all day. Not even old and battered ones.”
Tevek smiled. “Your missive suggested that there is trouble brewing along the border and in Lyebel. Some even believe a Crell attack may be imminent.”
“General Iouna believes that,” Kaeldar corrected. “Most of the Lord’s Council disagrees with him.”
The king’s smile faded. “There is unrest here, Tevek. More than there has been in many years.”
“How do you mean, Sire?”
Areekan’s face seemed to darken. “There is…discontent…uncertainty. And much of it is directed at me. The Council and the Legion Generals are divided, and the people are as well. Many of the provinces have grown more insular since the last war—and even more so after Serogar.”
“Theirs fears are understandable,” Tevek said. “You’ll forgive me for being blunt, Sire, but with the fall of Galvia, you no longer have the luxury of a buffer between Solaria and the Imperium. The Sovereigns are committed to making sure your people know that they could be next.”
“Our people do not fear the Crell,” Kaeldar replied stiffly. “If anything, we pity them.”
“Perhaps,” Tevek murmured. “Regardless, I know we all hoped that the Imperium might collapse on itself, but the Sovereigns seemed to have weathered their recent insurrections and military failures. The Crell aren’t going to just disappear on their own.
“Evil is never so kind,” Areekan agreed. “But this is about more than a war, old friend. The people are uncertain about their own king.”
Tevek frowned. “How do you mean?”
“You may have noticed I’m not as young as I used to be,” the king muttered. “There are those that question my ability to lead us through peace, let alone another war.” He paused and drew in a deep breath, his jaw clenching beneath his pale face. “And I’m afraid they may be correct.”
“And you’re worried about a Rite of Succession on the eve of a potential invasion,” Tevek reasoned.
Areekan grunted. “That’s a rather polite way of saying ‘I wondered when you were going to retire,’ but your tact is appreciated.”
Tevek grunted. “I assume you’re planning the Rite soon, and you need my help in some way?”
“Not exactly,” Kaeldar said. “We can’t risk exposing ourselves so openly with the Crell amassing their forces along the border. We need to wait until winter.”
Tevek pursed his lips. Rites of Ascension were essentially giant bullseyes for rebels and potential aggressors. Torsian history was rife with tales of nations exploiting the weakness of a transition of power. The reason was simple: when an Ascendant passed his knowledge and experience to a replacement, the telepathic links that shackled the nation’s Bound were shattered. Given how dependent modern countries were on such bonds, the results could be catastrophic. Trade became incredibly difficult, and often food and water were suddenly in short supply in the urban areas. Portals collapsed and had to be rebuilt from scratch. Diseases often cropped up and could sometimes flare out of control altogether. A kingdom without an Ascendant could literally tear itself apart in months or even weeks.
If the Rite was properly executed, the majority of a king’s Bound returned to the capital before their connection was severed. They would then be in place for the new king to empower them, at which point they could return to their duties. The process could still take days or weeks to complete, but order could usually be maintained in the interim, especially with assistance from outside allies. The fact that a nation like Solaria had survived for so long was a testament to the relatively smooth transitions of power from ruler to ruler.
Still, there was always a risk. Areekan had only stayed in power this long for fear of the Crell breaking the peace treaty after the last war. If the Imperium timed their attack correctly, the damage they could inflict was immeasurable. No legitimate military force could function without Bound to coordinate their efforts; a prepared enemy could launch a massive offensive and perhaps win a war before it had really even begun.
This vulnerability was one of several reasons the Imperium fostered multiple Ascendant Sovereigns. It also helped to explain how the elysians and the vaeyn had forged such long-lasting empires of their own, given their naturally long life-spans and subsequent stability of rule.
“I originally suspected you wanted me to evaluate the Crell threat,” Tevek said, “but I’m guessing you have something else in mind.”
“Somewhat,” Areekan said. “First, there is the tactical issue; I’m sure General Iouna has seen fit to give you all the latest reports on Crell troop movements in the past few months?”
Tevek nodded. “He has promised to, but not until our meeting was finished.”
“Well, I’m sure you also know that he has been strongly advocating a more aggressive posture on our part.”
“From what our sources have shown me, he has good reasons for considering a preemptive strike. The Crell have armed themselves at nearly every major chokepoint.”
“With one major exception,” the Voice put in. “Lyebel.”
Areekan sighed. “The Galvian Resistance has grown, which is the second point. The Crell border forces have stationed themselves almost fifty miles outside the city walls, which is very unusual. It’s almost like they have given up on Lyebel altogether. If they don’t reinforce their standing garrison, the Resistance stands a good chance of taking it”.
“Which creates an additional problem,” Tevek said. “If you try to hold off until the winter, you risk potentially valuable allies being stamped out. If you press now, you risk starting an open war before you are ready.”
“Precisely,” Kaeldar confirmed. “The Council isn’t aware of the Rite of Ascension or His Majesty’s plans in the matter. Neither are the Legion Generals.”
“I’m sure that makes everything seem much more black and white to the military.” Tevek sighed and made a small pacing loop. “”So what do you need me to do?”
“We need to know who is leading the Galvian rebels,” Kaeldar explained. “The Council bought into that part of Iouna’s plan, which I have a feeling was his goal all along. The boy could be an excellent politician someday—he’s using you as bait.”
“He’s a fast learner,” Tevek said with a smile. “But he’s only advocating for what he believes, and I happen to agree with many of his conclusions. He knows that I’ll be able to get an audience with the Resistance even if your people can’t. The question is what we do afterwards.”
Areekan leaned forward. “If the rebels really do have a chance of taking Lyebel, then we have to help them,” he said gravely. “You and I both know that. Especially after…well...”
Tevek nodded and sighed at the same time. Fifteen years ago, the Galvians assumed the Alliance would jump to their aid against the Crell. They launched a surprise invasion but quickly found themselves on the defensive when no help came from Solaria. Areekan hadn’t even sent in supplies until the Crell had conquered half the country. By the time he had mobilized troops, King Whitestone had already been killed. The war had already been over.
The Resistance had formed shortly thereafter. General Ethan Moore had repeatedly attempted to rally his dead king’s former Bound, the Hands of Whitestone, to take back their country from the Crell. But every time they achieved a sign
ificant victory, the Imperium would always stamp them out shortly thereafter. The last “official” rebellion had coalesced just over two years ago in the northern port city of Tibel, but after a score of quick victories over the Crell military, Ethan and his entire coalition had been wiped out in a single raid.
Tevek and everyone else had assumed that would be the end of it, but then this new group had emerged in Lyebel practically overnight. No one knew who was leading them or what their precise intentions were, and it was time to find out. If they were legitimate freedom fighters, then the Last Dawn had a responsibility to help them. Hopefully the Alliance would too, but if not…
Well, the knights had always remained independent for a reason. Paladins were supposed to be above politics; they fought for what was right, regardless of whether or not it was convenient.
“Elade and I can set off tomorrow,” Tevek said into the long pause. “We should be able to reach Lyebel in three days, assuming we dodge the manticore patrols. Hopefully we can make contact with the rebels shortly after that.”
Areekan smiled grimly. “I’m sure Gabriel won’t be happy about you traveling into Crell territory with only one escort.”
“The two of us will be much harder to detect than a whole squad. Besides, I’m the only one who can make this happen and he knows it. A mother hen has plenty of other things to worry about.”
Kaeldar shuffled uncomfortably. “There is the issue of your companion. Don’t you think she might draw unnecessary attention? Vaeyn aren’t exactly common in Torsia”
Tevek shook his head. “She’s had plenty of practice being discreet. I’m not worried about it. And I think her personal detachment from the rebels may actually be a benefit if we want to get an objective read on them.”
The Voice clearly wasn’t convinced, but Areekan just as clearly trusted his old friend.
“I trust your discretion as always, Highlord, “he said. “I just hope some of our old Galvian friends are still alive after all.”
“Yes,” Tevek whispered. “So do I.”
The Godswar Saga (Omnibus) Page 21