Endric watched him complete a circle of the grounds before stopping and surveying the garden. Through the nearest gate, Endric saw him start forward, a slight hitch to his step making him seem to limp, stopping along the pathway leading to the palace entrance. There he sat and crossed his legs, eyes closed but his face looking out into the city.
Rain fell on his tired face and he smiled.
12
Only the pale moon lit the night sky. In the distance, thunder rumbled and Endric could almost imagine the clouds rolling toward him. Occasionally, a dark cloud passed over the full moon, throwing the night briefly into darkness. Rain fell endlessly and the city stank of dampness and mold for it.
He paused, unable to ignore the feeling that something followed him, but he heard nothing other than distant thunder and the incessant rain. There came a burst of far-off lightning, and strange shadows flickered with it before everything once more fell still.
Endric moved carefully, slipping into the rocky Lashiin ruins on the edge of town. He should have reported to Calnin by now, but he was just not ready for more patrol. Part of him wondered whether Pendin would be disappointed or annoyed. Probably a bit of both, if Endric knew him as he thought he did. Urik was a different matter.
A shiver overcame him as he passed through the remnants of a stone doorway that arched high overhead. He scrambled up the loose rock until he reached a relatively flat area where a half wall remained. There he sat, leaning out and looking into the night.
Hearing a soft cascade of loose gravel, he turned. Even without seeing her, he knew it was Senda, recognizing the flowery scent she wore.
“Did you follow me?” he asked, turning away and looking over the wall. At least he knew now what it was he’d sensed, surprised she had followed him here. Few enough dared enter the ruins in the daytime.
She sniffed but didn’t answer. Instead, she moved to crouch next to him, laying her staff on the ground and hugging her knees to her chest.
“Pendin worries,” she finally said.
He glanced over. She looked up at him; her eyes glowed softly with reflected light. A hint of nervousness was evident in her tense arms and shoulders. Even her eyes darted slightly.
“You are assigned patrol tonight.”
He sighed and blinked slowly, turning away. “My friends shouldn’t suffer because of me,” he said softly.
Senda didn’t answer at first. “Talk to Urik,” she suggested.
“I already did.”
“Then find a way to move on.” Her voice was not harsh, and the gaze she fixed upon him was worried but no less uncomfortable.
“I’m trying,” he admitted.
Senda took a soft breath, and Endric waited for her next admonishment. What she said next surprised him, though he knew it shouldn’t.
“How can I help?”
She stepped closer and touched his arm. He expected her to pull him away from the wall but she didn’t, only standing there, the warmth of her hand seeping through his shirt. He didn’t pull away.
“I don’t know. Everything is…” He hesitated, not knowing what he wanted to say. “Wrong,” he finished.
“Hiding doesn’t help.” She moved closer and their bodies touched slightly. She fixed him with an open expression. He was aware of the heat between them and tried to ignore it.
Endric shook his head. “What else can I do?”
“What do you want to do?”
Endric looked away. “Honestly?” he asked, his voice strained. “I want vengeance.” He closed his eyes, pushing back the tide of emotion that threated to overwhelm him. “Andril is gone. Killed by these Deshmahne priests. And the Denraen do nothing.”
“What you want would put countless others in danger.”
He remained silent. That she spoke the truth didn’t make it any easier to hear. Andril wouldn’t have put additional Denraen in danger without understanding the risks.
Inhaling deeply, Endric opened his eyes and stared out at the night, letting the palace draw his attention. The huge structure swallowed everything else, towering over the rest of the city, and the view from the ruins only magnified it.
“Why did you come here?” she asked. He felt the warmth of her breath as she spoke.
“The solitude,” he answered.
She tried to laugh but it came out as mostly a cough. “There are better places.”
“Are there?” he asked, turning back to her.
“This place is…”
“Old,” Endric suggested. “Some say the ruins were ancient when the Magi first settled the city.”
Senda frowned at him, some of her confidence returning. “This is not a place for idle conversation.”
Endric waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. He understood her reservations about the ruins. Many felt the same superstitions when it came to the old religion. He had not expected that from Senda. “Why did you come here?”
“You were to return to patrol tonight. I worried that you would…”
He shook his head. “I will not do anything foolish, if that’s what you fear.”
“No?” she asked, cocking her head slightly. “You think taunting the gods is not foolish?” Her gaze skipped across the stone before settling once again on Endric. “You sit in the Lashiin ruins and stare upon the palace of the Magi, the first of the Urmahne. How is that not foolish?”
Endric surprised himself and smiled. “You give the gods too much credit. Or too little.” He shrugged, holding out his hands to keep her from interrupting him. “To the gods, I’m a rather small drop in a large storm.”
Thunder sounded in the distance, as if emphasizing his point.
“Still,” Senda said. “This place is not meant for nighttime contemplation.”
Endric glanced at the broken stone around him, the low wall seeming to hold back the night, and at the other scattered remnants of structure. “I think it is a peaceful place for contemplation.”
Senda frowned again but said nothing, and Endric let the silence between them grow. He had known some women who couldn’t let simple silence rest, uncomfortable in the absence of noise. With Senda, there was no tension, nothing awkward to the silence, and Endric realized he enjoyed feeling Senda’s warmth as she stood next to him.
There was not absolute silence. Wind whipped through the ruins, stirring stone and whistling through strange corners. Distant thunder, so common to the city, promised the coming rain. A few insects even called quietly, adding their sound to the others of the night.
Through it all, he heard the rhythmic sound of Senda’s breathing and found it soothing.
Silence was not the only reason he enjoyed the ruins. The view here allowed him to stare at the entirety of the palace without any of the neighboring buildings obstructing his sight. During the day, the palace had an almost austere aura, and he saw it as somewhat oppressive. Night was different. Especially when the moon was bright. At night, the white stone walls were nearly luminescent and he felt a sense of peace. He needed that now.
“They speak of your father differently now,” Senda said finally, easing into the silence between them.
Endric glanced over and waited.
“There was another attack in Brohstin. Much was similar to how Andril and his regiment were attacked.”
“Deshmahne then?”
Senda nodded slightly. “Some think so.”
Endric didn’t need to ask for clarification. “What does Listain know?”
She met his eyes and he saw a decision made. “Very little,” she said and sighed. He knew it cost her to break her confidence with Listain. “Rumors mostly.”
“I have heard some of the rumors,” he admitted.
Senda tilted her head. “Urik?” she asked but didn’t wait for his response. “You are one of only a few that even know what they call themselves. The other rumors are more frightening.”
Endric held her gaze, feeling a surge of anger. “You mean that fifty of these Deshmahne killed a regiment of Denra
en.”
She nodded. “Unfortunately, that is more than rumor.”
“Urik thinks they are endowed with abilities,” he said, wondering if Listain had shared the same with her.
Her eyes widened briefly and she nodded.
“Like the Magi?” he asked, thinking of what Urik had mentioned. What would happen if even one of the Magi joined the Deshmahne and attacked?
Senda shook her head slowly. “From what we know, it is not the same.” Endric felt a hint of relief. “The Magi are born to it. The Deshmahne are rumored to come upon it differently. That is part of the appeal. Any man can gain powers akin to the Magi.”
“At what cost?”
She shook her head, leaving her dark hair flickering behind her and flowing in the gentle breeze. “That is not known.”
“How is that even possible?” He turned back to stare at the palace of the Magi as he asked the question. There was no doubting the appeal. The idea was frightening if true and explained how Andril and his regiment had been so easily ambushed. Endric couldn’t imagine facing an army of men with such endowments.
“We don’t know how it’s possible. Or even if it is. These are only rumors still.”
Rumors. With enough evidence to make them believable. Andril’s death was proof of that.
“Endric.” She said his name softly.
He closed his eyes, unable to keep his thoughts straight.
“You know this is bigger than Andril,” she said. Her words almost begged his understanding.
Endric opened his eyes, blinking back the sudden pain. Every conversation turned his thoughts back to his brother, a reminder of how he had failed him. “I know.”
There was nothing else for him to say, and Senda didn’t force him. They let the silence fall between them once more as both turned to stare at the palace, his thoughts turning over.
Had he missed something? The meeting he and Pendin had observed in Stahline. The miners. The Deshmahne. Andril’s death. Could they all be tied together?
He turned to Senda, thinking to ask her, and saw movement near the palace.
Dark shapes moved through the night, visible only as a contrast to the white stone, and seemed to shimmer as they crossed the open lawn stretching in front of the palace. He wouldn’t have seen it if not for his vantage.
At least three shapes moved across the lawn and turned toward the back of the palace. The way they moved was unnatural and coordinated, unlike any creature he had ever encountered. He stared, trying to determine what it was that he saw, but the clouds that had been gathering in the distance began to move over the moon, casting everything into a deeper darkness.
“What was that?” He spoke aloud without really intending to.
“Not sure,” Senda answered in a hush. “But I saw what you did.”
He looked over and saw a nervous expression upon her face. There was something she wasn’t sharing. Endric waited, thinking she would say something more. When she didn’t, he started down the small rocky embankment, moving quietly and carefully so as not to disrupt any of the crumbled stone.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
He paused, his eyes lingering on the strange movements on the palace lawn. “Investigating.”
Senda hesitated, then followed as silently as she could.
13
“You know we’re not to enter the palace grounds,” Senda hissed at Endric.
He glanced back at her. There was reticence in her steps. “You don’t have to follow. This will fall only on me.”
The words had the expected response and she glared at him.
“You know something,” he said, watching her for a moment before continuing. Gates occasionally interrupted the low wall encircling the palace, and Endric suddenly remembered the Magi walking from gate to gate in the rain and wondered if they were locked.
“Endric.”
He heard the message as she said his name. There was something she couldn’t reveal.
As he reached the nearest gate, he hesitated before pulling at the small carved handle. Tradition held that the teralin gates would remain unlocked, but Endric didn’t know that any had ever tested tradition. Tradition also held that none other than the Magi—or their servants—would enter the palace grounds. Now he intended to test one and violate the other.
He took a deep breath and glanced at Senda. Her dark eyes were drawn and worry mixed with fear across her face. Then he pulled.
The gate swung open easily and without sound. The metal, like all things teralin, was warm to the touch, not quite hot. It was slippery, almost as if covered in grease, and he feared burning himself by leaving his hand upon it. Men had been scalded by the touch of teralin. According to Pendin, that was only part of the reason why mining was so dangerous.
Endric slipped through the open gate. He glanced at Senda to see if she followed. She watched him for a moment, then clenched her jaw as she stepped onto the palace grounds, eyeing the teralin like someone might watch a dangerous animal. She didn’t take her eyes off it until she was well past.
Within the palace grounds, everything was still. Small shrubs lined the pathway, neatly groomed. Some taller shrubs were sculpted into shapes resembling birds, wolves, or other creatures. Huge pots with flowers in bloom interrupted the line of shrubs, their colors subdued in the darkness. Only the mingling of their fragrant aromas announced the variety within the planters. How did they coax these plants to grow well here, this high on the mountain?
As they made their way along the path, eyes open for movement, Endric saw a few intersecting pathways. Small, carved benches marked each crossing. Endric didn’t need to sit to know they were made of teralin as well. He could almost imagine the Magi sitting upon the benches, staring at their lush garden. Sculptures of the gods were placed carefully along the path, their features long since worn away. Fitting for the nameless gods.
Nearer the palace, a few trees stretched like shadow figures, only the upper branches and their leaves moving in the wind. The thirteen trees on the grounds were the only trees in the city, each planted in memory of the original thirteen founders. The constant rain and lack of predictable sunlight stunted their growth so that they were twisted and deformed, looking nothing like Goldenwren trees anymore. Even their trefoil leaves had changed, distorted and crumpled so that they were more olive and brown rather than the gold, wide flowing leaves of their namesake.
A gust of wind sent the branches fluttering again as it whistled through the garden, sounding every bit like a far-off moan. Otherwise, nothing moved.
He crept toward the nearest tree and hovered in the deeper shadows it offered. Senda sidled next to him. The palace loomed larger here, and the white stone seemed to glow with its own light, part of the mystique of the palace. Andril had long ago taught him that it was little more than retained light, absorbed and reflected at night. This light allowed him to make out the movement along the far northern wall.
Cloaked in blackness that seemed deeper than night, it was only the contrast with the palace that made the creatures visible. There were three of them, and they flickered as they moved. Watching them was dizzying.
“We should get help,” Senda suggested, the nervous edge still clear in her voice.
“I don’t think there’s time,” Endric said. For some reason, he suspected that whatever moved wouldn’t be there long.
He slid to the next tree, now closer to the palace. Up close, the rough bark had a pungent odor, and he had to take shallow breaths to keep from feeling light-headed. Peering around the trunk, he spied the figures stepping in a strange pattern. Endric stared for a moment, trying to figure out how best to approach without being seen. No nearer trees or shrubs stood between him and the figures.
Coming up with nothing better, he crouched low and slid through the soft palace lawn, only darkness and shadows between him and the figures.
As he neared, the shapes became clearer. And less clear.
He couldn’t explain what he
saw. Part of him didn’t trust what his eyes revealed. Cloaked figures, standing nearly as tall as he, stepped in a sort of rhythmic movement. Each step was jerky, a staccato dance, and the shape seemed to flash briefly into shadows darker than night as it moved, disappearing then quickly reappearing as a smudge of darkness. The effect was disorienting.
Endric would say they were men, but he had never seen men move as these figures did. Suddenly their steps ceased and they stood, fully upright. The pale moonlight illuminated them, and even then he found it difficult to penetrate the darkness and shadows swirling around them. Endric froze, thinking they saw him, cursing silently before rushing forward, praying the noise of his movements didn’t betray him.
When they flung off their cloaks as one, revealing bodies covered by paint or ink, he nearly stumbled, barely catching himself in time. They wore nothing else and stood otherwise naked to the night. The markings swirled and moved on their own, as if the very skin beneath them was alive. Even then, shadows clung to their skin.
They were men, but unlike anything he had ever seen. Painted in such a fearsome fashion and performing some sort of ritual on the palace grounds, Endric knew he didn’t want to wait to find out why.
Each man then raised his hands toward the night sky and wordlessly chanted. Sliding closer together, slithering toward the center of the circle, they made no other sound. The night itself seemed to hold its breath. Their fingers touched, twisting into a knot. The muscles in their bodies were taut.
Then the markings upon their flesh started swirling faster, a furious energy begging for release. Deep blackness seeped from them, darkening the night. Even the soft glow of the palace stone could no longer penetrate the shadows.
Endric harbored no illusions that he wanted to witness the culmination of this ceremony.
He had been unable to take his eyes off them but now, as he watched and realized something was about to happen, his mind suddenly lurched forward as if unfrozen. He grabbed his sword and unsheathed as silently as possible. He heard Senda suck in a breath behind him but paid her no attention.
Soldier Son (The Teralin Sword Book 1) Page 9