“If Malacross was an Immortal, it would also explain how her tribe understood the Nephilese language,” Selvhara added. “And why the Crell want the cube so badly.”
“Yes,” Sarina rasped. “It really is a weapon.”
Adar shook his head. “Not just a weapon—you’re saying it’s a literal key to Ascension! The Crell could use it to create an entirely new Sovereign.”
“Or we could use it to create a new king,” Ria whispered, glancing meaningfully at Adar. “Along with a score of new Bound channelers to serve him.”
Adar didn’t reply, and a thick silence settled over the room. For over a decade now Galvia had been without an Ascendant king, and without an Ascendant king they were barely a nation at all. The Resistance had fought tooth and nail to gain back their lands from the Crell, but he knew better than anyone that this was ultimately a lost cause. They were a conquered people who had yet to accept their fate; even the progress they had made recently was merely a tiny drop in an ocean.
But this…this could actually be the key to their salvation. General Moore planned to use the Solarians to get Galvia back; he wanted to convince a young priestess to murder her own king and usher in a third devastation war between the Alliance and the Imperium. But with this cube, with the actual, factual powers of an Immortal, the rebels might not even need the Solarians at all. They would finally be able to stand on their own once again.
Adar didn’t even have to look around to know that everyone else in the room was thinking exactly the same thing—or at least, his people were. He couldn’t be sure about Jason and Selvhara. They had left the war behind, ostensibly for good…but surely they would be able to see this remarkable opportunity for what it was, wouldn’t they?
“If you’re right,” Jason said, breaking the silence and gently retrieving the cube back from Aidan, “then the Crell will hunt this thing to the end of the world. And if anyone found out what it was, they would come after it as well.”
“Then we should use it,” Ria insisted. “Now, before the Sovereigns find out where it is. We can build an army—”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Selvhara interrupted. “Like Aidan said earlier, it takes a strong and focused mind to survive Ascension. Most who attempt to claim the power are destroyed by it—and that’s just with mortal Ascendants. I can only imagine what the raw, undistilled power of a god could do to someone…”
Aidan nodded,, his eyes still locked on the cube. “She’s right. I was a boy when King Whitestone Ascended. He spent months preparing for the process, and his father transferred his essence willingly…but the process still nearly destroyed him.”
“Maybe an Unbound would have an easier time with it,” Tam suggested, his eyes glimmering. “I’m willing to give it a try. It’s always been a dream of mine to become a god…”
“This isn’t a joke,” Sarina growled.
“Who was joking? I’m just saying that I’m—”
“We have to do something,” Ria interrupted, ignoring Tam. “We can’t afford to waste this opportunity.”
“The cube is ours,” the chagari snarled from the back of the room. Once again, Adar had almost forgotten he was present, which seemed impossible given his size. “We are not giving it away.”
“Everyone needs to relax,” Jason soothed, standing. “This is all still just speculation. There’s no way to confirm any of this.”
Gor glared down at him. “We could use it.”
“Use it how? There’s no button or command word, and when Sel tried to channel Aether into it, the thing nearly burned her hand off.” Jason quickly slid the cube back into the pouch. “Right now we still have way too many questions to do anything rash.”
“Jason is right,” Selvhara said. “We need to be cautious.”
Ria scoffed. “That’s easy for you to say, isn’t it? Your country’s not on fire. Your people haven’t been enslaved.”
“You call this slavery?” Gor asked, gesturing his paw towards the window. “Do you have any idea how many of my people are in chains in this very city? In this province? In this country? Humans complain because they trade one king for another. They don’t understand real suffering. You don’t understand real suffering.”
“Oh, please,” Ria snorted. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, chagari. Our people—”
“That’s enough,” Adar said firmly, standing. “What Jason and Sel said is true. Before we do anything, we need to figure out precisely what the cube is. And Gor is also right: it’s not ours to begin with.”
Ria’s face fell. “Kyle—”
“I’m fully aware of what an Ascendant could mean to us,” he cut her off, “but this isn’t just a miracle solution to all our problems. There are big risks here. Besides, I’m sure Highlord Dracian will want to have a say in the matter when he gets here.”
“I don’t see why he should have any input.”
“Because he’s an old friend of our late king, and the Knights of the Last Dawn have always been stalwart allies of Galvia,” Adar reminded her. “You might not know him well, but Aidan and I do. I would appreciate his council on the matter.”
“He’s right, Ria,” Aidan said quietly. “Let’s just leave it alone for now.”
They all glared at each other for a long moment, but eventually Sarina leaned forward from her gargoyle-esque perch along the wall.
“Whatever we decide to do, the Crell will be coming,” she said. “We’ll need to ramp up security even higher than normal. No one else can know about this—and I mean no one. If even a whisper leaks out that we might be sitting on a key to Ascension…”
Adar took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right, of course. We’ll plan on moving around some tomorrow. For now I’ll deploy some additional scouts along the nearby streets and see if we can ferret out any new Zarul operatives.” He paused and turned to Jason. “You’ve all traveled a long way, and you’re dirty and tired. Feel free to draw a bath and eat something while we wait for the Highlord; he should arrive by the end of the day. Then we can reconvene and get his advice.”
Selvhara offered him a faint approving smile, and Jason’s eyes signaled a silent thanks. Adar had deflected the worst of the heat for now, but unfortunately it wouldn’t last. Jason might have come here seeking help, but instead it was like he had just thrown a scrap of meat in front of a pack of starving hounds. Sooner or later, there was going to be blood.
But first things first. Ethan needed to know about this. Perhaps he could be convinced to abandon his other schemes and embrace this new opportunity. Perhaps he would dismiss his demons right then and there.
And perhaps, just perhaps, the Resistance could leave a decade worth of lies behind them and finally work together to defeat the Crell.
Chapter Fifteen
“Once, Lyebel was among the wealthiest ports in the northern lands. Now I’d rather sell my wares to the Asgardians. They may be savages, but at least they’re not Crell.”
—Loribade, a merchant captain
Lyebel was definitely not Celenest.
That was Elade’s first thought as she and Tevek soared down towards the distant metropolis. They planned on landing several miles from the main entrance to avoid any open confrontation, of course, but with an afternoon sky this clear, it wasn’t difficult to pick out the tall, spiked battlements or sprawling port on the city’s eastern side. The entire city seemed to be a shade of white or gray, but it wasn’t the color that set it apart—it was the fortifications. More than anything, they spoke to the differences between the Alliance and the Imperium.
Solarian cities were well-defended, but aside from patrols of griffon riders, most of their defenses were subtle. They went to great lengths to conceal their armaments and defensive implements, even to the point of making them less effective. The reasoning was based on their cultural beliefs: the army wasn’t supposed to get in the way of daily life. Solarians wanted to live in a peaceful, beautiful city with sparkling fountains, clean streets, an
d citizens more concerned with the current fashion than the region’s political climate.
Crell cities were nearly the opposite. An enemy scouting the gates of Lyebel was meant to be intimidated. The defensive towers were armed to the teeth with ballista, archer slits, and even focusing crystals to enhance the defensive powers of the local channelers. The walls were reinforced with steel at key points, and likely further bolstered by Aetheric infusions. Even ships sailing into the harbor had to pass by two monstrous warships bristling with weapons and manticore landing roosts. The Sovereigns believed that gratuitous demonstrations of force brought peace and order. Citizens could only relax and enjoy their lives when they knew they were safe and secure.
Their view wasn’t so different from her own people, Elade realized. Vaeyn cities were fortresses from gate to home, and they made no apologies for it. Their faeyn cousins, by contrast, preferred splendor and grace, and their defending forces were kept nearly invisible. For most of the last century, Elade had believed them naïve and foolish, and a part of her still did. But then she thought of all the beautiful things the faeyn created and how their poems, paintings, and sculptures would ultimately define their civilization in history. What would the vaeyn leave by comparison? Shattered weapons and armor? Stories of death and suffering?
Still, if the demons ever conquered Maz’Belar and poured out across Calhara, the faeyn way of life would quickly change. Elade had always found that to be the most convincing argument of all.
Their dragon mount, Cyridius, eventually set down in a small clearing several miles outside the main gates. As usual, he had performed well despite less-than-ideal circumstances. The Crell had flooded the border with manticore riders, and a giant dragon wasn’t exactly the most difficult thing to spot. But thanks to the cloudy weather and some deft maneuvering, they had managed to slip past without being detected.
“One advantage of autumn,” Elade commented as they unpacked their traveling gear and got ready to head out on foot, “is that it makes hiding under layers of cloth less conspicuous.”
“I’d still prefer winter,” Tevek replied. “At least I could wear my armor.”
She nodded in understanding. Tevek relied upon the heavy steel plates of the Last Dawn armor; he had integrated the weight and protection into nearly all his combat styles. But strolling through a hostile city with a bright silver-blue tabard and shining silver armor wasn’t exactly the most subtle approach to what was essentially a reconnaissance mission, and so he would be forced to do without.
“I’ve been trying to convince you to rely on it less,” Elade chided as she adjusted the straps on her scabbard. “There are plenty of tricks I can still teach you.”
He grunted in mock annoyance. “Give me back the body I had when I was thirty and I’d take you up on it.”
She grinned. These light chain shirts were still expertly forged, of course, and the form-fitting metal links were supple enough to allow nearly free movement while still protecting vital areas. Best of all, the shirts easily fit beneath a cloak, robe, or even just baggy clothing without raising eyebrows. Elade wore essentially the same suit the majority of the time and preferred the flexibility anyway, but her fighting style was based on mobility over brute force.
Still, she understood why the knights preferred the bulkier armor. Common thugs and soldiers rarely had weapons capable of penetrating Dawn-forged plate with anything outside of a direct blow, and even most elite mercenaries couldn’t afford top-of-the-line weapons, especially in the poorer regions of central Calhara. That, coupled with the fact that knights spent a great deal of time mounted in large open spaces on the air or ground, made heavy armor the obvious choice. Mounts could easily support the weight, and the protection against projectiles could be life-saving. In Elade’s case, the formula was almost exactly the opposite. Shadow knights were expected to be stealthy as much as direct, and they often operated on foot against foes that relied on Aether more than physical weaponry. Burying yourself behind fifty pounds of metal seemed foolish when your enemy could simply cook you inside it.
Fortunately, their swords wouldn’t be a problem inside the city. Lyebel, like all Imperium urban centers, had a standing law against selling or carrying certain types of weapons, with the main offender being crossbows. The logic was transparent: they were easy-to-use, deadly, and concealable—the latter being the biggest reason. Tevek had told her once how expensive crossbow licenses were, and in many cities they were simply outlawed altogether. Swords, on the other hand, were as much about fashion in some circles as defense, and they were still seen as a “gentleman’s weapon” among the wealthy elite. They were difficult to conceal, and local smiths often tagged their blades with personal markers to make them easier to track. The same mostly applied to the bows she and Tevek tossed on their backs. While still the dominant weapon on the open battlefield, longbows were both awkward and obvious in a tight environment like a city. They were very common on the backs of hunters, however, and that was the guise they had chosen today.
A layer of simple clothing concealed most of their armor, and a thick gray cloak and hood did the rest—at least for him. Taurosians weren’t all that common this far inland, but they weren’t so rare as to raise instant suspicion, either. Unfortunately, her disguise was a bit more complicated. These people had probably never seen a vaeyn before, and it was entirely possible they would panic at the mere sight of her gray skin. As a result, she had wrapped a black scarf around her face and pulled up the cowl of her cloak. With her head tilted down, no one could really see what she looked like, though naturally she would still have to avoid eye-contact; her bright blue orbs would still give her away in an instant.
“You look…what’s the expression?” Elade asked. ‘Ruggedly handsome,’ I think.”
Tevek grunted. “Galvians respect outdoorsmen. “Perhaps I can seduce a young lass or two at the local pub.”
“Or some middle-aged widows,” she snickered. “I suppose we’ll find out.”
“Traveling with one old woman is enough for me, thanks,” he muttered, securing the last of his gear. “Let’s get moving.”
Elade smacked his back in mock annoyance and checked herself to make sure everything was ready. She missed her crossbow, but otherwise she felt pretty comfortable. No disguise would allow them to stroll right up to the garrison, but this would at least be sufficient to get them into the city.
A few feet away, Cyridius let out a huff of confusion. He was smarter than most beasts, but he still didn’t know exactly what was going on. Elade pet him soothingly on the scales of his face, then touched the enchanted collar on his neck. The device allowed her to share some of her emotions with him—not as much as a true Aetheric bond, of course, but enough to let him know that everything would be all right. She could also feed him slightly more complex commands than normal, such as letting him know that they might not be able to retrieve him for several days.
“We’ll see you again soon, I promise,” she soothed. “Just try and stay out of sight.”
She sent her assurances through the collar one last time, and then they were off. It took them a bit over an hour to cover the five miles between their landing spot and the city’s southern gate. It was midday, and the usual steady stream of travelers flowed in and out of the city, getting a once-over by the city guards but little else. They slipped inside without too much of a fuss, and Tevek led them down a few streets towards the south-side marketplace.
“So this is the fun part,” Elade murmured as they maneuvered through the crowded cobblestone walks. “I hope you aren’t expecting the rebels’ scouts to pick you out of a crowd and let their boss know you’re here.”
“Not at all,” Tevek said. “I told you I know a few people who live here…assuming they’re still alive.”
He stopped a few times as they walked, taking a moment to study the street signs and the surrounding area. As far as she knew, he hadn’t been here since he had met her, which meant at least four years. A lot could ch
ange in that time, especially considering that Lyebel had been almost completely rebuilt since the last war.
For her part, Elade took the time to study the people and get a sense for how they lived. No matter where she traveled, farms and villages were almost always the same. The people lived and died by their land and focused on day-to-day, practical matters regardless of whether they were Galvian or Crell or Taurosian. City folk, by contrast, spoke to the true heart of the country. Ten minutes in a Taurosian market would give a completely different impression of the locals than the same ten minutes in Celenest.
Lyebel was no different. Most citizens walked with their eyes down, paying attention only to their footsteps. Though they were clean and healthy enough, they weren’t happy. Children laughed in the streets and people drank at outdoor taverns just like any place in the world, but Elade could sense the latent fear behind the surface. The racial divides were just as obvious, even with the mixing of bloodlines over the years. Groups of people sat apart from each other in ways that established a certain class system. A tavern’s clientele often looked homogenous within itself, but different than those one a block away. People spoke one language on one side of a street and sometimes another on the opposite. The tension of a forced relocation of Crell citizens to a Galvian city, even a decade later, was apparent.
The walls might have been rebuilt, but Lyebel was still a broken city.
“Ah, here we go,” Tevek said eventually, moving towards a corner shop. Elade didn’t speak or read Hassian, the native tongue, but the sign had a Crell translation. It was a general clothing store.
“What’s this?” she asked as they moved across the street.
“A very old friend,” he told her. “Just browse while I try and find him.”
“All right.”
The Godswar Saga (Omnibus) Page 28