Thread Skein (Golden Threads Trilogy Book 3)

by Leeland Artra

  The walls had unseen eyes the same as his outpost. He knew these eyes did not serve him. Not yet. His outpost was built for the Nhia-Samri and answered to them. The palace and city were built for the Duianna Empire and did not honor treaties of men. If he was to gain control of the region in total, he must wrest it from the Alliance. He must hold it and force them to acknowledge the Nhia-Samri claim to those lands and his status as the overlord there.

  He’d mistakenly thought that such an acknowledgment by an official representative of the prior lords of the land would suffice. It did for the population, but not for the ancient systems there. Whatever magic, guardian spirit, or mechanism that controlled the ancient defenses and powers refused to acknowledge Maru-Ashua as the rightful ruler.

  That, and the approaching armies, were why he had not yet brought his wife and children there. He knew his son would love to run around the castle, tiring all but the hardiest of watchers. His daughter was older and would spend a lot of time pestering him to let her join the warriors.

  His feet had brought him to the balcony where he’d forced the surrender of Princess Sheila, heir to Laeusia. She’d done everything required, according to the historical texts and transcripts, to turn rule over to him. He’d studied the ceremonies used at the formation of the Alliance 5,000 years before. Those had been well documented.

  The Duianna Emperor had sliced up his empire, giving it over to the dukes, duchesses, countesses, and barons, making them kings, queens, and rulers. The emperor had traveled to all the new national capitals, and used the exact same ceremony in all the locations, naming the new rulers. It had both diminished the Empire and strengthened it beyond its original limits. It had been a brilliant stroke, breaking the Empire up into more manageable portions and then forming the Alliance to pull all those nations back under the control of the emperor.

  The new nations continued to swear fealty to the Empire, even after the last emperor had vanished mysteriously without an heir. The regents had taken control as they were supposed to. The world had continued well enough without an emperor on the throne in Gracia.

  The fertile green fields were being tended, and he could hear the industrious sounds of his city. The reconstruction of damaged property was almost finished. With the influx of citizens evacuated from the northern lands, around Nhia-Samri holdings, ahead of the Alliance attacks, the land was thriving.

  The northern cities they’d taken had provided even more civilians with needed skills and hardy backs. Many of the newest citizens taken there had moved out into the open lands, carving homesteads. By all reports, most were happy. He’d given his various honorable officers land grants throughout the areas. A functioning government had formed, one that honored all the normal Nhia-Samri laws and morals.

  Dotting the city were the new water towers. To fill them, special aqueducts had been erected through small mage-gates back to Hisuru Amajoo’s vast water reservoir. Many of the civilian population had been forced to fetch fresh water from far upstream from the city to comply with the Nhia-Samri code of never drinking or using city water. Several of the locals had wondered at the new requirement to not use their own wells. It was taking a lot of work to keep down the rumors that the wells had been poisoned by one side or the other. With the fresh water supply restored, things had finally settled down.

  With Shar-Lumen’s most recent order to relocate all the outposts from the southern hemisphere to those lands, there would be a Nhia-Samri outpost within a day’s ride of any location. In less than a cycle, it had gone from a sparsely occupied remote area on the southern edge of Laeusia, to a thriving nation with military outposts located throughout the land.

  Small towns and cities were already popping up, and trade routes were being established through the mountains to the east, between Hisuru Amajoo and Hopu Rinyaru. Even more trade routes were being established westerly to the southern port city of Ithiliunna, which was a major trade port for goods from Yalthum, Karakia, and Dulgrium.

  If we can hold to this new land, we can even establish trade with Aelargo and Nasur to the east.

  He breathed deeply, feeling some of the promise on the air. Throughout his whole life, he’d been a natural leader. Still, that was more than he ever dreamed of. He’d been a strong son. He learned all the drills and won all the games. The only thing he’d never managed to master was the use of mana. He was stronger than most mages, but only because of the blades he wore at his side. Those magnificent ancient blades had chosen him when he’d been sent as a new first lieutenant to Outpost One.

  He allowed a smile at the memory. He’d been assigned to clean, repair, and oil every weapon in that armory for speaking out of turn to a superior. In taking that job seriously, he also decided to repair all the ancient shelves and weapon racks. He’d worked day and night to sand, oil, and repair the racks. He hadn’t known why at the time, but that included cleaning and recaulking the walls. That was when he found the secret compartment that held the blades. He was sure they’d influenced him to step up and do the extra work. They’d chosen him, perhaps on that very day, after witnessing him work for some time. They never said anything directly to him, only vague feelings and nudges. The power they had was beyond any other blades he’d encountered.

  He’d done such good work that the officer he’d offended had publicly acknowledged that Maru-Ashua was a worthy and dedicated officer to be emulated. His rise through the ranks was fast. He slowly learned to control his emotions and tongue. He’d also learned the value of always doing a job to the best of one’s abilities. That single lesson had been a defining moment.

  His introspection was halted by someone drawing near from the hall behind him. The person stopped to wait for permission to approach. He was alone on the balcony, and his personal guards were in positions around the doorways in the hall, ensuring it remained as he desired. Since his guards didn’t react, it had to be one of his generals or an adviser.

  “You may approach.” As he turned around, he was surprised to see his chief mage.

  “Your Grace, the Alliance forces are three days from our borders. We cannot locate Duke or Lord Dohma. The forces have at least a thousand mages. They’re maintaining shielding for all three divisions.”

  “Are you sure they’re full divisions?”

  The mage nodded. “Yes. Although we cannot see them clearly with magic, we have used gates to move scouts near their locations. We have confirmed division numbers roughly: 1,500,000 warriors, 200,000 Dagger officers, and 300,000 non-combatant support personnel.”

  The numbers were far more than he anticipated. It was an almost unbelievable number. The Alliance had pulled everyone who could carry a blade. Most had been involved with a battle or two against a Nhia-Samri outpost on the march south, making them seasoned veterans. All of them were being trained by Daggers.

  The Nhia-Samri might be able to defeat them if they could fight as mercenaries, but not as a nation. Their tactics of hit and run did not allow for holding and defending land. In that battle, they could easily lose due to attrition.

  The fact that the Alliance would field three million warriors against them meant they were serious and scared.

  “What of the eastern fronts?”

  “We have confirmed reports of a similar number of divisions landing in Nasur and western Aelargo. There are no more Nhia-Samri outposts or strongholds remaining in the northern Alliance territories. The last, in Oslald, fell yesterday.”

  “Duke has kept his word. He’s moving for Hisuru Amajoo. Alliance forces will box us in completely from east and west. I need a report on the defenses being built on the northern borders, both east and west of the mountains. Begin preparations. We might need to evacuate all the civilians to Hisuru Amajoo. I don’t want to miss even a lone trapper on a circuit.”

  The mage bowed and left.

  Maru-Ashua turned back to look out over the city with one
burning question. Why? Why go through all this effort? Shar-Lumen has had us gather civilian tradesmen from around the world. We have turned no one away that desired to join our people. We have boosted our civilian population with those from the north and south. We have gathered and moved whole families, giving them more freedom and land than they could have hoped for. Evacuating all the outposts to these lands has provided a strong military to police and protect the nation. He even had a name ready. That wasn’t something he just thought of. This has been planned out years, maybe even hundreds of years, ago. Why do all of this if the Alliance armies will just destroy all of it before it even started?

  He tried to find some clue in everything Shar-Lumen had said or done, but his mind kept returning to the night the Gods had attacked Hisuru Amajoo. Shar-Lumen had calmly watched as their might was turned aside by a shield he’d built 600 years earlier. Shar-Lumen had said with deep conviction, “I protect my own.”

  You’ve been working on this for over 600 years. You said things were not going as you desired, but you’re clever. How can you stop the Alliance?

  A communication channel opened to Maru-Ashua directly. He touched his odassi. It was Hiri-Rula. Her strike team had managed to get far enough away from Elraci to communicate and gate safely.

  He allowed the connection. “Report.”

  “First Warlord, we have succeeded with a surprising bonus.”

  “Explain.”

  “Sir, Lebuin is a God. He had Magus Vestul’s journal, and he has broken the seals. We have secured him, Ticca, Ditani, and the rest of their team. They’re healthy. I’m opening the gate to Lumendaria.”

  “Wait. I’ll have a terminus established in the throne room in one mark. I want you to gate through to there directly. Stand by for a link to the terminus mage.”

  “Sir!”

  He closed the connection and moved into the hall. “Get a gate terminus mage to the throne room now. I want a gate to General Hiri-Rula, due south from here on the edge of the Circumveni Desert, established immediately.”

  One of his guards saluted and ran down the hall. Maru-Ashua went the opposite direction, to his quarters, where he changed into his full ceremonial armor and then jogged to the throne room. He arrived just as the gate mage was completing the assembly of the rods that would provide the focus point for a magic gateway. The room was being prepared. Twenty guards had been brought in, just in case. He noted that a few heads of houses that had relocated from Hisuru Amajoo to Lumendaria were there, too. They didn’t seem surprised at his arrival in full ceremonial gear. They nodded and chatted amongst themselves as they took up positions on the sidelines.

  He pointed to the center of the room. “Place the terminus there and proceed.”

  He climbed the stairs to sit in the throne. Moments later, the gateway flashed, revealing a dry mountain path of broken granite and lava rock. Standing back from the gate was General Hiri-Rula, her mage necklace glowing like a bright star. Her armor was spotless, as was all the armor and clothing of the people around her.

  She extended all the clasp’s abilities to the entire group. At least they’ll all be immaculately presentable.

  Three at a time, the group proceeded through the gateway. Each triad consisted of a pair of Nhia-Samri, one hand holding the arm of a Dagger prisoner who was stripped of weapons and forced to wear a pair of arm bindings. Only four Daggers remained out of the original nine. They were followed by Colonel Runa-Emry, personally escorting his own daughter, Runa-Illa, who once was a shining jewel of the Nhia-Samri, with every chance of eventually becoming a warlord. She too was weaponless and shackled.

  Four Nhia-Samri escorted a Karakian he recognized from reports as the ancient warrior, Kiotiaditani, son of Lady Lothia, the Raven. Ditani looked around and smiled, walking where he was told, not docilely, but with a dignity impossible to impersonate.

  Kiotiaditani was with them! The Gods have been very busy.

  General Hiri-Rula stepped through the gate with one hand holding the arm of Lebuin. Behind Hiri-Rula, six more Nhia-Samri followed, watching Lebuin closely. He had on a collar like those worn by Magus Cune, Lady Sula, and Lady Lothia. Hiri-Rula had taken it as a means to subdue a powerful mage. She was lucky it could hold a God, as well.

  Behind those, the last four started to come through. At their center was the young girl he’d met in Algan, the mysterious Ticca of Rhini wood.

  General Hiri-Rula had walked up the base of the dais with Lebuin. “First Warlord, I present....” She was cut off by a grand trumpeting that filled the throne room.

  A shimmering column of light flowered up from the floor, forming into a sphere, like a fountain, around the gate. Ticca, who’d just come through, stopped, seeming just as surprised as everyone else. Below her, the inlaid seal of Laeusia split and fell away, making it look like the group stood on nothing, over a bottomless chasm that had once been the floor.

  From the depths, a shimmering silver seal rose precisely under Ticca. It was in the shape of a square shield. A blazing sun was at its center, the Imperial panther profile at the top, and the dagger of justice in a wreath of olive leaves at the bottom. The shield was topped with the Imperial crown.

  All of the house heads present dropped to one knee, their heads down, saying together, “Vivant et imperii decus est famuli tui Duianna Hopu Rinyaru!”

  The lights intensified around Ticca until her clothes were a luminous, sparkling gold. Her four Nhia-Samri guards were pushed away by the expanding, sparkling sphere.

  Ticca held her hands up before her, looking at her glowing sleeves, eyes wide. The shackles melted off her arms, turning into glowing dust that vanished before striking the floor. The trumpeting reached a crescendo.

  As the sound of the horns faded, a woman’s voice came from nowhere and everywhere. “Ave, imperatrix Duianna. Ut et illustris, nobilem Duianna, vivere per te imperii. Vivat regiam.”

  Ditani shook free of the shocked warriors holding him and stepped out, eyeing Maru-Ashua.

  “Warlord Maru-Ashua, Nhia-Samri all, please recognize me, Kiotiaditani, speaker of the tribes of Kiliua-ona, and allow me to present to you Her Royal Majesty, Empress Ticca Ethulin Duianna, the one true daughter of Duianna. May the honorable and glorious Duianna Empire live through you. Long live the Empire.”

  Kiotiaditani dropped to one knee.

  The warriors looked at Maru-Ashua for guidance. All he could do was stare at Ticca. His mind had frozen harder than the high lakes in winter.

  The ice broke with an almost audible cracking, and hundreds of thoughts raced around his head, demanding immediate attention.

  Empress! She is the Duianna Empress. A Dagger! No wonder Duke obeyed her. He knew! I can’t hold her. She’s more precious than Lady Lothia or Lady Sula!

  He glanced around the throne room. Aside from the floor, and the shimmering golden globe of lights around Ticca, nothing else had changed. But he knew the city’s invisible guardian who’d just spoken in the ancient Imperial formal language recognizing Ticca. It was the same language Damega used to command the Emerald Heart, and which the old emperors had used to control their artifacts for hundreds of generations. The city was watching and would not hesitate to protect Ticca with all its might.

  He had no illusions about the sudden reversal of the situation.

  I sit on the throne, but she commands here. Worse, even if we can hold her, if any of the assembly even suspect we’re holding her prisoner here, all of the nations will descend upon us with everything they have. They’ll level everything to get to her. There won’t be even a speck of usable soil left. Did Shar-Lumen know this? It would explain his order that she be captured unharmed.

  He stood and slowly stepped down the dais.

  Shar-Lumen’s words echoed out of his memory, reverberating around his mind, calming his thoughts. ‘I protect my own!’ A plan for
med, and he knew what he had to do.

  Lebuin

  The spectacle was done. Lebuin squeezed his fists so hard that he felt his nails digging into his skin. His mind raced, trying to find a way out of the mess.

  There go all of our secrets. Bad enough we come into an Imperial throne room, but why did Ditani just expose Ticca’s full identity? I know that mage commander Hiri-Rula knows I’m a god. If only that meant something! A full Magus would be better suited to deal with this than I am.

  The guards were so confused that they let Lebuin pull his arms out of their grip. He took advantage of the situation to shift the collar and scratch under it. Every time he tried to use some magic, it sent a painful shock into his nerves, and worse, it siphoned off the power.

  I bet this thing is channeling that power straight to a Nhia-Samri power station. I hope it doesn’t figure out how to tap into the connection to my collector.

  Everyone in the room was focused on Ticca and the amazing light show she was producing. Ticca was radiant, literally. Her clothes and gear hadn’t changed shape, yet everything on her looked as if it was made from some silky substance that flowed and sparkled. She was also surrounded by a shield, but it wasn’t like any Lebuin had seen before. It hummed, and small waves flowed across it, distorting his vision.

  He tried to shift to magical sight, only to feel the power sucked away and a painful shock vibrating down his spine.

  I wish I could look at the incantation channels making that shield. I bet it’s unique. We’ve learned so much, and yet we’ve still lost more than we’ve gained.

  The last few weeks had changed everything, but the world was still the same, more or less. The Gods were still living somewhere on the world, and flitting around in the between realm, interacting with each other and their followers. Argos still sat, or lay, or whatever he did, in Miniath-Tur, at the center of the universe, watching over not only that world, but hundreds of others.