Thread Skein (Golden Threads Trilogy Book 3)

by Leeland Artra

  Hiri-Rula considered everything that had happened. Her base being attacked, the attack on Gracia, and her strange feelings. She’d witnessed many things. In the past, she’d often worried about some actions, but it had never bothered her so much. Recently, it was as if her mind had been freed from some kind of binding, and she was able to assemble the facts and reach sound conclusions easier now. Both her perceptions and interpretations were clearer than ever.

  She attributed some of it to the advancement in rank and the need to take more note of everyday actions. But she knew that ever since she’d taken up Colonel Mishia-Ollan’s ancient odassi, she had a higher sense of purpose. Just holding the blades made her more confident in her decisions, especially when she opted for compassion and the older definitions of honorable action.

  The throne room doors were closed, and four honor guards stood blocking them. On her approach, they rapidly came to attention and stepped out of the way. She used magic, instead of her hands, to push open the large doors with their broken-shield handles. They made a banging sound just as she stepped over the threshold.

  Warlord Eshra-Zunia remained seated in the carved throne. The other generals and officers present stood and formed a path for Hiri-Rula. They bowed in unison as she moved past them to stand directly before the throne. The warlord frowned at her, anticipating the news.

  “General Hiri-Rula, what news of our attack on Duke?”

  After a slight bow, she reported, “Warlord, the attack was devastating. We have been able to determine that Lord Dohma survived. Many of Duke’s senior officers have also survived. We’ve reduced the division under Duke’s direct command by at least thirty percent, perhaps as much as fifty.”

  There were more than a few sharp intakes of breath at the news.

  I’m not the only one who finds this news disturbing.

  Walking backwards in her mind, she identified who had been standing where as she went past. She took note of the direction of the sharp intakes of breath, indicating horror or surprise, and added all five of those people to her list of possible allies against such mass killings in the future. She knew she would have to sound them out, but she was pleased to note that one of those people was her own general.

  The warlord did look unhappy, but not horrified by the casualty numbers. “What of Duke?”

  “We could not detect Duke’s life force.”

  The throne room doors swung open again, banging even louder than she ever dared to do. The warlord’s eyes widened, and everyone around Hiri-Rula prostrated themselves on the floor. She turned to see a magnificently chiseled warrior standing in the doorway. His black armor was beautiful, with a pattern of grey highlights and piping. The armor had wide shoulder plates that turned up from his muscled shoulders. He stood taller than everyone in the room. The large doorway framed him perfectly, a fact Hiri-Rula knew was no accident.

  Shar-Lumen walked straight towards her. She dropped to one knee. “Lord.”

  She did not look down. Her entire attention was riveted on his violet eyes. He stopped before her.

  He looked up at the warlord. “Warlord Eshra-Zunia, you have served well. Not even my most sensitive mage can detect Duke. He’s well detained. Hopefully, he’s also buried or trapped.”

  She didn’t move a muscle, at least nothing she was aware of. Yet Shar-Lumen’s eyes came back to her. “You don’t believe we’re so lucky?”

  How did he know? What did I do?

  His eyes remained on her.

  Think. How do I explain my prediction? No mage can see clearly at that distance.

  “Grand Warlord, Duke was with Lord Dohma. We have detected Lord Dohma. Through whatever means, it’s likely Duke saved Lord Dohma, and therefore, will be found rapidly.”

  Shar-Lumen blinked as he continued to stare at her.

  No one dared speak. After what seemed like an eternity, Shar-Lumen nodded almost imperceptibly. “Very sound reasoning, General Hiri-Rula.”

  Shar-Lumen looked back at the warlord, and it took every ounce of her mage training in control to not let out a sigh of relief.

  “Warlord, congratulations on the excellent execution of our plan. Now, you’re to take what aid you desire and go to the city of Llino. You are to assume command of all forces there and to take the city. I do not care if the city is destroyed, but you will deliver to me in Hisuru Amajoo Lord Dohma’s family, alive and uninjured.”

  The warlord stood and slapped her chest in salute. “It shall be done.”

  “Warlord, when I say family I mean all of his family. His sister, his brother, their spouses, their children, and most especially, Countess Electra Neyon of Waylisia. None of them are to be threatened, mistreated, or in any way harmed beyond the necessary force to hold them and guarantee their passage.”

  “Understood, sir!”

  Shar-Lumen turned and started to walk out, but paused. He turned back, looking at Hiri-Rula, his eyebrows creasing. He then waved for her to approach. She stood and stepped up to him. He placed a hand on her shoulder and drew her odassi of prayer with his free hand. He examined the blade before sliding it back into its sheath.

  “Warlord, may I borrow your second-in-command for a special assignment? It may take some considerable time.”

  The warlord clearly didn’t want to agree, but she snapped instantly, “Sir, your will and pleasure. I trust she will serve you admirably.”

  Shar-Lumen’s smile sent chills down Hiri-Rula’s spine. He gestured to her aide, who, she was surprised to see, had followed her and still stood ready to assist. “You shall remain here.”

  He turned and stepped back through the doors and started walking down the long, empty corridor.

  Where did the honor guard go?

  Without any other orders, Hiri-Rula fell into step with him, the throne room doors closing behind them.

  At the end of the hallway, another pair of large doors with shields for handles waited. They opened, either by themselves or with Shar-Lumen’s magic. Hiri-Rula wasn’t sure, because she sensed no magical usage by him.

  The doors opened on an impossibly grandiose room with a tall throne on a raised platform. Shar-Lumen swept through the well-dressed officers and warriors in the room, cutting a path like a ship running through the ocean. Stepping up, he turned and sat on the throne.

  We’re in Hisuru Amajoo! I didn’t feel anything: no gate, no power, nothing. How did we get here?

  Chapter 10

  Ancient Mistakes

  Hiri-Rula

  Hiri-Rula roamed the great halls of Hisuru Amajoo, unsure of what to do. Shar-Lumen had swept her there in his wake, like the great ships that collected debris as they moved through the sea. She was sure he would demand more intelligence from her, or perhaps accuse her of hiding secrets. The Grand Warlord was a top-level mage, a warrior beyond measure, and mysterious. He never explained his plans, but everyone knew he protected his people. Of those that served him, he demanded perfection of service, and strict adherence to the Nhia-Samri code of honor.

  After introducing her to his command staff, he’d dismissed her with instructions to relax and visit her family. Expecting to be sent off on some dangerous mission, Hiri-Rula had found her father, Hiri-Ming. He was Shar-Lumen’s chief avenarius, in charge of all the stables for the entire fortress. Her brother, Hiri-Yonu, was following the family’s traditional profession, and had just been named avenarius for Hisuru Amajoo’s farming stables.

  Her brother and father were both busy men, but took what time they could to visit with her and discuss everything that had happened. She felt better, being able to talk through some of her feelings. Her father was truly proud that the ancient blades had chosen her, and he even took her to see the town’s leaders, known as the elders’ council. The elders had shared wine with her and congratulated her, as each elder respectfully touched the blades�
� hilts.

  In all, she had a wonderful couple of weeks. Every day, she came prepared to leave. Every day, she was told Shar-Lumen was not ready for her.

  She’d been tempted to use the mirror, but fear of discovery kept her from even opening the compartment. She still studied the book, trying to decipher the complex formulae and unusual terminology, which was either made up, or from a language unknown to her.

  She’d found the seemingly infinite library complex on her third day. It was filled with texts and books on every subject. Whole sections were locked off, or sealed under the Nhia-Samri preservation shields similar to those she’d used to seal the empty barracks.

  The chief librarian was a nimble, smart, and chatty old lady named Olmanna-Yillion. Hiri-Rula had tripped over her when she was carrying too many books to see where she was going. She’d swept up all the books and gotten Hiri-Rula to join her for tea.

  Through that entire first meeting, Olmanna-Yillion had chatted almost nonstop, but the tea and pastries were amazing. Since then, Hiri-Rula had tried to avoid her. Every time she encountered her, it seemed she lost three marks of her day. But the chief librarian had different ideas, treating Hiri-Rula like a new prized pupil, giving her access to hidden and locked-away treasures, and often leaving little notes with many references to help her studies.

  The main hall of the library was over a hundred feet tall, with a golden dome. The western half of the dome had a masterpiece series of panel paintings, depicting a terraced city that filled half of the ceiling. Opposite the city were panels of men and women dressed in various robes and outfits from many ages. The people were of all ages, and through a clever ploy, they held hands in an unbroken chain. She’d spent a whole afternoon staring up at that ceiling, tracing the hands, only to end up back at the main figure in the front. The figure was a muscular man wearing leather pants and a loose white linen shirt with the billowed sleeves that came and went in popularity. She liked the man. He had a strong face, and she felt he was someone who could be trusted. She’d asked librarians who he was, and they shrugged, suggesting it was just a heroic caricature.

  A magnificent chandelier held what she thought was a representation of all the constellations. Each light was artistically shaped like a star, and golden ropes moved back and forth between the lights, which she assumed were some kind of oil distribution system. The lights never flickered, making her think it had been changed out for a more reliable magical light source at some point.

  She’d started using the vast resources of the library to improve her understanding of what was in the book she carried. Although there were hundreds of books available on the subject of divination, none of them held a candle to the enchanted text. Divination was considered a shoddy and unreliable science that was best left to lesser-talented mages who needed to impress villagers.

  Her stomach grumbled about her light breakfast that morning, but Hiri-Rula had been reading an interesting book on a secondary existence theory about parallel realities. That book wasn’t generally available to anyone, but she’d been given access to it. It wasn’t allowed outside of the library, so she’d eaten quickly and was rushing back to continue studying it.

  I almost hope I meet Olmanna-Yillion today. I would love to get some of her pastries. I really should ask where she gets them. She laughed internally. That is, if I can get a word in edgewise.

  A junior warrior ran past her, heading for the library. But when she saw Hiri-Rula, she skidded to a stop and jogged back, coming to attention just to the side of her path. The warrior kept turning her head slightly to glance at her. She had a message, but was reluctant to interrupt Hiri-Rula’s thoughts. Never mind the fact that her noisy appearance and nervous glances had already done just that.

  Still, Hiri-Rula waited a full minute before stopping near the warrior, looking at her as if she’d just noticed her. Unsure about what to do, she saluted, and glanced at Hiri-Rula again.

  Trying not to smirk, Hiri-Rula nodded at her. “You have a message for me?”

  The junior officer let out her breath. From the sound of it, she’d been holding it the whole time. “General Hiri-Rula, I bring you greetings from my master, First Warlord Maru-Ashua. He requests an audience with you at your convenience.”

  “Why would he wait for my convenience?” The fact that First Warlord Maru-Ashua would wait for her was so shocking that she asked the question without thinking.

  The warrior didn’t seem to notice the inappropriate response. “General, First Warlord Maru-Ashua directed me most specifically to not interrupt any research or work you were engaged in.”

  That explains the odd behavior. She expected me to be in the library, and didn’t know how to deal with finding me roaming the hall she was running through. She was probably planning on a more dignified approach.

  “Take me to First Warlord Maru-Ashua, now.”

  The warrior saluted and turned back in the direction from which she’d come. She marched, leading the way. She didn’t seem to be paying attention to Hiri-Rula, yet she maintained an excellent distance two steps in front. But Hiri-Rula became curious, and slowed to examine an artifact in the hall. The warrior slowed, and even stopped when Hiri-Rula did. A slight tingle caught her attention, and she shifted to mage sight. The warrior was pulling power from her odassi to enhance her hearing.

  Very astute usage.

  The girl didn’t have the internal magic potential to be a full mage, but she was highly attuned to her odassi, which caught Hiri-Rula’s attention. They weren’t the new style. In fact, they were ancient odassi, just like Hiri-Rula’s.

  There are not that many blades of such age left. This junior officer having a set is surprising.

  Hiri-Rula pondered the coincidence as she was led through the complex to a set of iron-bound oaken doors. There were two guards on the door. The guards were both majors, and they saluted as Hiri-Rula approached.

  One of them knocked once on the door, and opened it without waiting for a response. As she entered, she noticed that both of the majors also had ancient odassi blades.

  Four sets of ancient blades. This cannot be coincidence. But what does it mean?

  Stepping inside, she was surprised by the large room. It had a fireplace, with a set of plush sofas around a coffee table. Two of the walls were bookshelves, stuffed with ancient-looking tomes. Her fingers twitched to run along their spines, reading the titles.

  At the far end of the room was a beautiful wooden desk, inlaid with gold in a series of sweeping lines that curled in interlocking vines around it. Behind the desk was an almost throne-like, high-backed leather office chair, in which sat a hulking man whose chest and upper arms stretched the wool shirt he wore, revealing rolling pectorals and bulging biceps. This was the man, whom she knew to be First Warlord Maru-Ashua. He looked as athletic as any young warrior, despite being over fifty years old. Only the grey streaks in his hair gave away his age. He was the largest man she’d ever seen.

  Before the desk, arrayed in a semi-circle, were six wing-back chairs covered in a blue patterned, tapestry-like cloth. Three colonels and one general revealed themselves by standing up out of those chairs. They turned in a leisurely manner to look at her, all with welcoming faces. None of them revealed much in the way of emotion. Somehow, she knew she could trust them, and that they in turn would welcome her into their midst.

  The warlord also stood. His face remained a mask of neutrality. Seeing him standing, she re-evaluated her original estimation of his mass. Saying he was immense didn’t sum up his presence. He wasn’t wearing his armor, but his odassi were in a holder behind him within easy reach. She was sure his clothes had been made for him, yet they were snug, leaving little to the imagination about his muscled torso. He stood well over everyone in the room at two meters tall, and if there was an ounce of fat on his frame, it wasn’t visible. His arms were rolling muscles, the size of mo
st men’s legs.

  The warlord pointed to an empty chair. His hand was large enough to grab her entire head and crush it like a grape.

  “General Hiri-Rula, join us.” His voice matched his size, but was soft and gentle.

  She walked across the vast room, all of the men watching her every move. She felt like some kind of special specimen being brought in for study. None of the men made even the slightest sign to indicate their thoughts.

  As she moved before the chair, she realized that every person in the room, including the warlord, had ancient odassi matching her own.

  This is beyond coincidence. The warlord has intentionally gathered officers selected to bear the ancient blades. But what can it mean?

  She took her seat, and the men followed suit. A porter approached her with a tray of drinks. Glancing at the others, she saw that they all had drinks and small plates of food on the tables in front of them. As she took some of the hot arit offered, she noted that even the porter was an officer wearing ancient odassi blades.

  No one said a word until she’d taken a drink. As soon as she placed the cup before her, the warlord continued a conversation that had been going on before she came in.

  “Eshra-Zunia will have a hard fight to take Llino. Once the city is breached, the palace will be strong enough to resist for some time.”

  The general leaned forward. “I could go there as an adviser. I’m aware of the tactics used for penetrating those defenses. Plus, we all witnessed your capture of Allornia.”