by T. A. Miles
Lady Tahrsel, whether or not she realized it, had chosen to meet at one of Indhovan’s shrines to the gods. The site appeared as a garden in actuality, as did most shrines within cities in Edrinor. In some towns they were defunct and forgotten for what they were. Whether or not Indhovan’s people paid theirs any special notice, they kept the grounds around it reasonably ordered. There were four walls surrounding a high point. Each wall contained an archway with archaic symbols carved in it. Flagstone paths led inward toward a central shelter, beneath which sat a small, square pool. A small tablet with emblems upon it stood in the pool’s center. This one did manage to be overgrown with assorted vines and what appeared to be algae of some kind, but it hadn’t been torn out, defaced, or in any way molested except by nature. Flower beds and shrubbery occupied the rest of the grounds. Cayri found it peaceful, if not a tad eerie at night. But then all of Indhovan appeared gloomier than the city meant to be while its inhabitants entertained the governor’s curfew. From what she could tell, there’d been no severe enforcement of it, but apparently the deaths and disappearances people were aware of was enough encouragement.
And that was fine. Cayri felt as if it were simpler for her and her colleagues to operate as they needed to this way. While she waited, she seated herself at the pool’s edge. She lightly touched the surface of the water with her fingertips, then rested her hand on the damp, cool rim, watching the city lights dance across the moving liquid. It reminded her of a very long time ago, when she would play at the bank of a spring near her childhood home. It astounded her at times to consider how much memory a person could hold onto, and how it didn’t make her feel old.
She understood by now that she had a greater purpose than to age … to marry or to bear children. Something she had let go of was the memory of whether or not she ever truly wanted that. It was only in the presence of other women outside of the Seminary that she considered such things, particularly a woman like Ilayna Tahrsel … married and with a son—an adult son whom she wanted to enter into a safe world, free of demons and warring. Cayri couldn’t guarantee that the world would ever be free of such things. She wished sometimes that she could be more assuring to others, especially with her talent for Empathy letting her know on no uncertain terms when those around her were troubled and not at ease. She was glad to have Ashwin as her life-mentor. Many conversations with him had helped her to comprehend and to properly apply her gift. It was strange to consider that she and Korsten shared him as a mentor and she knew so little about Korsten. He was still young to the Seminary, though. He had given her sensations of a tenuous internal balance, but in spite of what she felt around him, she could see that he wasn’t hampered by it overly. Pairing him with someone as steady—if dour—as Merran probably assisted his sense of stability. She understood that her own pairing with Vlas was not one of chance either. They balanced one another. She knew well that she would meander around many an occasion that Vlas saw fit to cut directly through. Likewise there were times when his directness needed tempering.
Myrr lit on the back of her hand, tickling his tiny legs across her knuckles. She smiled at the soul-keeper’s narrow, scarlet form, then looked away, drawn by the approach of others. As she straightened and stood, Cayri realized that it was two individuals; Lady Tahrsel and her son had both come.
The woman with soft white hair pinned up handsomely, approached Cayri with a slight smile. It was form, an expression that had become unconscious over time no doubt, given her station. Again, the governor’s wife wore trousers and a heavy jacket. The ensemble was quite feminine, but defied what others might have expected of her all the same. In Cayri’s own experience, gowns were attire for calmer days spent at the Seminary. Cayri rarely wore them.
“Thank you for coming,” Lady Tahrsel said, in the moment that Cayri was going to say the same thing. She detected a note of urgency in the woman’s voice.
In response to her words, Cayri nodded. She also offered a polite acknowledgment to the woman’s son, who appeared in expression as well as presence to be uncomfortable with the meeting. Cayri recalled that he’d appeared much the same way at the activists’ gathering.
“I apologize that this couldn’t occur at the mansion,” Lady Tahrsel said next.
“I understand your husband’s position,” Cayri offered. After a brief pause, she hazarded a question. “Is he aware of your meetings?”
“This one?” the lady replied, sounding a tad put out. “Or are you referring to gatherings such as the night before?”
Cayri felt as if she had her answer in that, but chose to press gently. “I meant the gatherings with men like Ossai and Treir.”
“Oh, he’s aware. He only chooses to ignore what goes on in his city, and with his family.”
“He has his own way,” Deitir put in. He stepped away from both of them after that and made sure to put his gaze harshly on Cayri on his way past.
“Yes,” his mother agreed, her gaze following him after the fact. “He chooses to ignore.”
Over her shoulder, Cayri watched Deitir stalk around the pool. She detected easily that his presence was primarily for his mother’s benefit, to satisfy his sense of protection. The Lady Ilayna was obviously a woman of her own will and the men in her life—at least one of them—worried over it.
“How aware is your husband of the approaching army?” Cayri asked, catching Deitir’s look of concern in the corner of her vision before she turned her attention fully to Ilayna.
The aging woman’s light eyes narrowed as she leveled her gaze with Cayri’s. She was a woman of good height and strong bearing. In spite of her son’s worry, she seemed very much at the reins of her own life. “They’re really here,” she said. The statement appeared for sake of confirmation and without surprise.
“We’re here because they are,” Cayri replied. “Konlan was not exaggerating. We believe that Morenne has sent agents in advance to undermine this city’s defenses.”
“The demons,” Ilayna said, again in the same leveling tone.
Cayri nodded, holding her gaze to Ilayna’s. “It’s important that your husband meets with us to organize Indhovan against an imminent strike. Cities to the north are falling, which will give them access to the coast. Alliance troops are being organized and will move this way as a contingency, but the collaborative forces are already spread too thin. Every city needs to respond to this invasion with an aggressive defense.”
Lady Tahrsel drew in a breath, glancing past Cayri at her son, before speaking. “The Cities Alliance has been borrowing resources from this city for years. With good cause, yes, but we’re depleted somewhat for it. I feel that depletion is mostly in morale. It affects even my husband.” With a small shake of her head, she concluded her statement. “He only wants to protect this city … though at times I can’t help to feel that he’s given up.”
Cayri understood the emphasis on ‘only’. It was still better footing than complete ignorance, however. Defeat was something she hadn’t considered. “We’re here to help him protect this city.”
“I understand,” Ilayna said. “However, he does not. He wants to cut away Edrinor’s darker parts, of which he considers the Seminary one. If he learns that you and your colleagues are here, he will have you arrested immediately and soon thereafter escorted from the city. He believes that the Vadryn exist and that they go where you go … that mages and Vadryn are performing a doomed dance. Like a fire. It grows when fed, but with nothing to feed it, it dies.”
“This fire will not die until it reaches the sea,” Cayri said sternly. It may have been her many years working alongside Vlas that spurred her to such immediate and forceful response. She found hearing the governor’s attitude in better detail more aggravating than she anticipated. “Whether or not Edrinor unites under the Old Kingdom, whether or not it becomes something new … there will be no debate about any of it if Morenne is allowed to continue. We will be conquered and Edrinor wi
ll be no more. Does your husband understand that?”
Ilayna’s expression took on a gentler hue, though she maintained her ground. “Mage Cayri, I know how dire this is. Believe me. Morenne has taken so long growing to the force you and others tell us it is and while we don’t disbelieve—we know that our soldiers go to a cause—it remains difficult for some of us to take in the full scope. Sadly, my husband especially is one of those who have yet to fully grasp.”
“But you aren’t,” Cayri understood.
Ilayna confirmed with a small shake of her head. Without breaking her gaze from Cayri’s, she said, “I have friends who lost family in Haddowyn when it was taken. Worse than taken, it’s as if the town simply ceased to exist. There was no further contact from anyone who had lived there. Surely some of them must have survived the invasion when it came, and escaped.”
Cayri could see the fear in the woman’s eyes now, as she thought back on something that may have scarred her younger years. As Cayri understood it, Haddowyn was not invaded, it was swallowed, directly into the mouth of the demon hiding at its core.
Lady Ilayna glanced to the ground, then toward her son as she continued. She spoke even quieter, as if she wanted no one beyond the two of them to hear. “Men among the activists have traveled to Haddowyn, seeking survivors. They found none, not within the town nor its near vicinity. There was not one living soul within the entire area. For a place taken by enemy forces, one would think it occupied … one would expect to find evidence of battle. Granted this was some years after it fell, but the men who went were met with desolation. By their description it looked a place that no one had been for a century or more. It chills me to consider what may have befallen those people.”
Whatever the woman envisioned, it could be equally or less dark than the truth, but no darker. Even with her experience as a mage Cayri doubted that even she understood the horrific reality of a fate snatched into the hands of demons. It was the hunters among them and the ancients who had such insight. “Haddowyn can happen here,” she stressed to Ilayna. “It can also be avoided if the city is properly prepared. You must help us communicate with your husband.”
Ilayna sighed, not with belligerence, but in frustration.
Cayri continued. “Speak to him.”
Ilayna nodded, a firm frown of determination forming on her lips. “I’ll do what I can.”
That was all Cayri could ask for, but she had more information to gather from this conversation before parting ways. “Who are your husband’s advisors?”
The small quirking of the woman’s eyebrows suggested she hadn’t anticipated such a question, though she answered easily. “Men of station within the city. Konlan Ossai is included, in spite of his rebel views.”
“Irslan Treir?”
“No.” Ilayna shook her head. “Irslan’s point of view is too strong for my husband to tolerate. He considers him dangerously like his uncle. It’s only the seeming passive social presence he maintains that’s kept him out of the constabulary as a term boarder.”
“I see,” Cayri said. “And the resident coven? What does your husband know of it?”
It was almost cryptic that Ilayna said, “They’re tolerated.” The tone in her voice was neutral, but the words were delivered with an uneasy sensation regardless. She confirmed that unease with a conclusive, “I’d rather not speak of it.” And then she beckoned her son. “Deitir.”
The lady took a step back, waiting for her son to join her, which he did promptly. “I will do my best to bring this topic to my husband,” she said to Cayri. “If I have any further word for you, I shall pass a message along to Irslan. Is that all right?”
Cayri nodded that it was. “Thank you.”
With a polite nod in return, which was accompanied by a passing glare from her son, the two departed. Cayri remained in the silence that followed, considering the conversation. Eventually, she reached into the pouch at her belt, fingering the small orb Ceth had given her. It was textured with many small holes. When she took it out and examined it beneath moon and lamplight, she could see the shadow of movement within. She could not descry the cause of such movement nor did she try very hard to. Ceth had given her instruction on what to do with it. When was at her discretion and it was not now, so she put the item away.
They moved quickly down the corridor, Korsten feeling the same urgency as the last chase. He felt that one of the demons was definitely nearby. The familiarity of the sensation may have alluded to the same demon, though Korsten hesitated to consider that they would feel as distinct as a person in that way. It was the first time it crossed his mind with such precision to separate them like that. He was forced to dismiss his initial inclination because distinction was essential to individuals, which they were. The Vadryn weren’t part of a collective. Each could act autonomously. Each could feel different. Could each then have a personality? The arms master at Lilende crossed his mind in that moment … and the argument the demon had made through Bael.
Korsten had to stop thinking about it. Now was not the time. He focused on Merran’s footsteps just behind him, the walls to either side of them, the flames they passed and the haze the smoke cast over the air above them. His subconscious mind searched for shapes within the smoke. His immediate focus returned to the chase. It was a blind chase for the moment and he didn’t care for it.
The corridor came to a crossing. A silhouette shifted through the accumulation of light in the intersecting space. “Why are these particular beasts so bent on running?” Korsten wondered aloud.
And it was in that brief space that the feel of presence spiked obscenely through his blood. Like a dagger cloaked in shadow, Korsten felt the dangerous nearness of one of the demons score across his perception. The beast itself was on him afterward, bouldering against his shoulders and upper back. He let himself tumble forward with the momentum, into the crossing, where he learned that the floor sloped steeply in one direction. He and the Vadryn rolled down the ramping stone at an alarming pace. They separated before too far and Korsten fell into a slide toward an area too shadowed to discern in any real detail. He made a few attempts to grab hold of anything or to angle himself so that he might stop himself. At one point he managed, just long enough to brace his leg against the wall while he laid his hand flat against the ramp and literally pushed backward to hold himself briefly in place. His arm strength was not a match for his leg strength, however, and his leg strength was disinterested in the weight that slid down onto him before too long. He thought at first that it was the Vadryn, but he realized in the moments that followed that the body hovering very near to his in his renewed descent was Merran.
Their path ended abruptly at a level place. They found themselves on a grated floor overlooking a cavernous room with a dim natural light to it. It wasn’t enough light to penetrate the deeper shadows or to properly let them see the water they could hear lapping below them. They made a silent, mutual decision to rise when the grate dropped out from beneath them with a heavy clanking sound. Korsten quickly rolled himself into a position to grab hold of it. He made a reach for Merran at the same time and got the shoulder of his coat in the very moment Merran was grabbing hold of the metal panel on his own. They each planted their feet as if the grating were a ladder and after a brief span of silent confirmation that the other was all right, they hazarded a better assessment of their situation.
“Where did the Vadryn go?” Korsten asked.
“There were two,” Merran answered, simultaneously reminding Korsten that they’d encountered two in the streets the first time. “They both leaped off the ramp before it ended. I didn’t see where they went.”
“Are they toying with us?” Korsten could feel the edge of irritation in his own words. It was bad enough that the beasts had devised a new method of possession, worse that they’d developed a sense of humor as well. He preferred simple, raw instinct. Though these attacks were far less vicious thus far
than they could have been.
“The water must have channeled through these corridors once,” Merran guessed, not quite irrelevantly, while he looked back up the way they had come.
Korsten wondered at times like this if that was Merran’s way of redirecting his attention from stress, which would surely build irrationally if allowed. They both knew that too well. Korsten would have to work harder at … well, he was thinking he needed to panic less, but this felt more a loss of temper than of courage.
“Perhaps,” Korsten said in response to Merran’s observation, less curious about the caves now than he had been upon entering them. He looked around their perch, watching a pale glow waver over the stone; the reflection of water. It must have been directly below them, but how far? Would they be able to climb back up to the passages above?
The air felt alive in the ensuing moments of consideration, as it had above, but….
“Listen,” Merran said as a chorus of scuttling shifted dissonantly through the chamber.
Korsten looked down at Merran, concentrating on the sound and the sensation simultaneously. If above had been a dagger manifesting out of shadow, then this was a rain of black arrows. Yes, there were more of the Vadryn in Indhovan. So many more….
They would never stand a chance at their position, against numbers they couldn’t even see. They both knew that, so when Merran instructed him to let go, he did. In the moment, they were in the hands of the gods. They dropped through the darkness. Korsten watched a swarm of erratic shapes fold over the opening above them, and then the water snapped him into its stinging, cold grip. They hadn’t fallen far enough to cause any actual damage, but the distance was considerable, ensuring that a climb back to their original location would likely not be possible.
That was the last Korsten thought of it for now. He righted himself in the water as quickly as possible and surfaced. Slinging his wet hair out of his eyes and spitting out excess water, he searched for Merran. His friend bobbed to the surface not far away. While he didn’t suspect anything otherwise, he still felt a slight wash of relief and almost smiled at the sight of his partner.