Blades of the Old Empire

by Anna Kashina

  “Magister Egey Bashi. Aghat Raishan. What a surprise.” The newcomer’s soft, insinuating voice crept straight into the gut, making the hair on the back of the Magister’s neck stand on end.

  “Reverend Haghos?” he asked slowly.

  The former Reverend of the Church, displaced from his high post by an impressive showdown that also put King Evan on the throne and restored Kyth’s position as his rightful heir. Didn’t the Keepers expel the man for good?

  Haghos chuckled. “I’m so glad you recognize me, Magister. And it’s Kaddim Haghos, thank you very much.”

  Of course. How silly of me not to guess. Egey Bashi narrowed his eyes. Was Haghos a Kaddim Brother all along? Or did his exile, after a failed attempt to usurp the throne, drive him to the Brotherhood?

  “What’re you doing here?” he asked.

  Haghos’s smile widened. “You’d really like to know, wouldn’t you, Magister? No wonder you’re snooping around. And speaking of that, did you really think a Diamond Majat could protect you within our walls?”

  Our walls. With the ancient brotherhood infesting the Monastery things were much worse than he thought. Does the new Reverend Cyrros know?

  Is he one of them?

  The thought was too disturbing to dwell on.

  “I was under the impression I was venturing into holy grounds,” Egey Bashi said. “If I’d known I was walking into a lair of Ghaz Kadan worshippers–”

  “Don’t speak the sacred name in vain.” Haghos threw his hood off, revealing a tonsured head and a pale bony face. His eyes gleamed with a feverish glow. Behind, Nimos and his companion emerged from the open doorway, blocking the way to escape.

  “You have no idea what you’re up against, do you, Magister?” Haghos said. “How about a small demonstration? Kaddim Farros?” He nodded to Nimos’s companion.

  The hooded man nodded and stretched out his palms, parallel to the ground. A silent thunder shook the air, pressing on the eardrums with an invisible force. The blast brushed past the Magister and hit Raishan full in the face. The Diamond swayed. His face became deadly pale. A thin streak of blood appeared from his nostril. He struggled to keep upright, then, after a terrifyingly long moment, he sank down to his knees onto the stones of the courtyard.

  The hooded man lowered his hands. The pressure subsided, but Raishan did not rise. Egey Bashi resisted the urge to help him up as he watched the deadliest fighter that ever walked the earth grovel on the ground like a drunken man. His heart quivered.

  A smile twitched Haghos’s pale lips. “That blast would have killed you, Magister.”

  Egey Bashi met his gaze. “Let him go. You don’t want to quarrel with the Majat, do you?”

  Haghos shook his head. “When we are done, the Majat won’t matter anymore. But…” he looked past Egey Bashi to the silent shapes of Nimos and his companion, “as much as I’d like to continue this demonstration, we are in a hurry. Our little session with you will have to wait. In the meantime, you can perhaps provide some company for our poor old Reverend Boydos. Ex-reverend, I should say.” He laughed, then clapped his hands. Hooded figures appeared from the shadows at his back, surrounding Egey Bashi and Raishan. The Magister’s arms were grabbed from behind and a bond that felt like wet leather pulled his wrists together, making his hands go numb.

  As the men approached Raishan, the Diamond pushed off, sliding behind a stone column. A blast from the hooded Kaddim Brother shook the air, but missed its target. Before Raishan could make his way across the yard, all three Kaddim Brothers rushed forward, stretching out their palms. Force reverberated in the narrow space between the columns. Raishan fell on the cobbles face-down, twitched, and went still.

  Egey Bashi watched with a sinking heart. Up until now he hoped against hope that other Diamonds, like Kara, could develop immunity to the Kaddim. But, as he looked at Raishan’s limp shape sprawled on the cobblestones, he was fighting a feeling of helplessness. With Raishan disabled and Kara about to be assassinated by her own kind, what hope could they possibly have?

  Their captors tied Raishan’s hands behind his back with force that seemed enough to dislocate his shoulders. The Kaddim Brothers’ faces showed relief. Despite his sorry condition, Egey Bashi made a mental note of it. Something in this short scene troubled them, and the source of that trouble might well hold the key to their escape. The Keeper just had to find out what it was.

  “It has been a pleasure, Magister,” Haghos said. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again, but I can’t guarantee that you will still know who I am. Our inquisitors know their job.”

  He nodded, the three Kaddim Brothers brushing past toward the exit at the end of the gallery. Robes rustled on the cold stone and the three figures blended with the shadows, melting away into the distance of the monastery courtyards.

  Hands grasped Egey Bashi from behind with such severe deliberation that there was no use in fighting. He relaxed against their hold, concentrating his efforts on making himself as much of a burden as possible. His mind raced.

  Raishan seemed badly hurt. When the robed men pulled him upright, the Majat’s head lolled and Egey Bashi noticed a smear of blood on his face. It was clear that Raishan was in no position to offer any help. He was the one that needed saving.

  The men turned Egey Bashi toward the side courtyard exit, where a gaping doorway led into a darker passage. From his previous assignments he knew his way around the monastery pretty well, but this part was unfamiliar. By the position of the moon he was guessing they were facing the northeast corner of the compound, housing the deep dungeons and the inquisitors’ grounds. They were going to be tortured and mutilated. And then, they were going to be left to rot until the Kaddim Brothers returned from their hunt for Kyth.

  Egey Bashi couldn’t allow this to happen. He had to get out and find his way to the Grasslands in time. Except, what could he possibly do against men who could disable a Diamond Majat so easily?

  A commotion around Raishan drew his attention. The robed men were having trouble keeping the Majat upright. His injuries were apparently far worse than any of his captors imagined. As the Keeper watched in a horrified silence, Raishan fell sideways, collapsing against the man next to him. The man cursed, struggling to keep the limp body of his captive from sinking to the ground. Another hooded man hurried to help.

  As they steadied Raishan, he suddenly came to life, pushing against his captors’ arms. As they stumbled back, overbalanced, he sprung forward, his momentum carrying him onto the other captors with dizzying speed. His knee shot up and caught the man in front right below the belt. The man doubled over with a satisfying grunt. Raishan continued his movement, landing on one foot and swinging out the other so fast that the air around him whistled. Bones cracked, followed by short screams as two men at his back collapsed, grasping their legs. The last man backed off toward Egey Bashi’s group, but he wasn’t fast enough. Raishan completed the spin, his heel catching the man on the chin. The man fell backward onto the stones of the courtyard, splattering blood.

  Egey Bashi let out a breath, watching the men crouched on the ground with horrible injuries that had taken Raishan seconds to inflict. One of them was clutching at his groin. Two others lay flat on their backs, whimpering, their out-turned knees suggesting really bad breaks. The fourth one was still.

  A blade pressed against Egey Bashi’s neck.

  “Tell your friend to stop, Magister,” said a voice by his ear.

  Egey Bashi took a breath. “Aghat Raishan,” he said quickly. “If they kill me, you must go and help Kyth. This is my dying wish.” He gasped as the blade pierced the skin. But it didn’t go any deeper. The events in front of them unraveled too fast.

  Raishan’s muscles rippled. A dark blade slid out of his sleeve into his hands, tied behind his back. Steel glinted in the moonlight and the tight ropes holding his arms together up to the elbows snapped loose. Raishan shook his hands, flicking them to the sides as he faced the remaining enemies. His eyes had a ruthless, frightening gli
nt that echoed in the set of his features. A long, dark stiletto geamed in his hand.

  The men around Egey Bashi backed off, holding the Keeper in front like a shield. Raishan leapt forward, his blade sweeping by so fast that it blurred. Egey Bashi felt the hold on him released as the body by his side sunk to the ground like a deflating sack. He stumbled and Raishan caught him by the shoulder and pulled him over to his side, cutting the ropes around the Keeper’s wrists in one short move.

  Egey Bashi flexed his fingers, feeling slowly returning to his numb hands.

  “Are you hurt, Magister?” Raishan asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

  They turned and ran.

  The sounds of pursuit grew fainter as they sped through the stone courtyards like two dark shadows. They didn’t stop as they saw the wall ahead of them, whipping out their grappler hooks as they ran. In no time they were over, running along the cobbled street on the other side into the maze of alleys leading down the Holy Hills toward the port.

  After the monastery wall was out of sight, Egey Bashi paused to catch his breath. Raishan waited. They eyed each other in silence, then started down the street at a fast walk.

  “Couldn’t you have given me a sign or something?” Egey Bashi asked after they turned the corner.

  “Why?”

  The Keeper opened his mouth to speak his mind, but decided against it. Tempers aside, Raishan was right. There was probably no reason to let Egey Bashi know that the Majat was actually all right, and that his near-death state was no more than pretense, aimed to give him advantage in a fight.

  “I thought you were really hurt,” the Keeper said. “What the Kaddim Brothers did to you looked bad.”

  “It felt bad,” Raishan confessed. “I thought it was going to kill me. What the hell was that power?”

  Egey Bashi frowned. “When the Kaddim’s mind control is focused onto one person, it becomes so intense that it can make a man’s heart explode. Used like that, it is called Power to Kill. One needs a great command of power to be able to do that.”

  “That man – Kaddim Farros, was it?”

  Egey Bashi nodded. “He’s very powerful. If Nimos brings him along in his hunt for Kyth, there’s no telling what they can do.”

  They turned onto the familiar street with the battered sign showing a blackened picture of a wild mountain aemrock.

  “We must go to the Grasslands at once,” Egey Bashi said. “I don’t care what your Guildmaster says, but we must help Kyth. We can’t allow him to fall into these men’s hands.”

  Raishan glanced at him but said nothing.

  “We must leave right away,” Egey Bashi went on. “We must beat the Kaddim Brothers to it, if we can.”

  “I doubt it’s possible,” Raishan said. “They’ll probably use a lizardbeast relay, or something. But we can certainly make good speed if we hurry.”

  28

  ON THE RIVER

  Kyth dreamed.

  He was standing in a large field, facing three robed figures. The hoods were pushed back, but their faces shifted features, making it hard to see what they really looked like. Waves of force emanated from their outstretched palms. Three streams of force joined into one, an overwhelming torrent too strong to oppose.

  People crouched on the ground at Kyth’s feet, covering their ears against the pressure. Their faces were pale and blood trickled from their nostrils. Kyth knew they were about to die, crushed by the hooded men’s power.

  He had to stop it.

  The pressure of the force was enormous. While Kyth didn’t seem to be affected as much as the others, he was weakening under the flow. Soon he would be overpowered, and then nobody could save them anymore.

  He raised his head, searching for anything to aid him.

  The wind.

  He had to relax and let in the wind. But if he did, he would also let in the power of the strange men. He would no longer be able to resist it.

  He had no other choice.

  He relaxed, letting go. The wind filled him, mixing with another type of power, darker and heavier, but still adding to the flow. In his mind, he gathered it into a single point, shaping it into an invisible spearhead. He held it out toward his enemies and moved it, cutting through the blanket of power.

  The pressure subsided. The hooded men looked at him in surprise. Then they changed, focusing their entire blast on the people dying at Kyth’s feet.

  I have to save them.

  He focused his spearhead into a large streak of light, sharp like the finest blade he had ever wielded. He made it wider, cutting through the power that enfolded each of the people in turn. He watched them lift their heads, one by one. Their agonized faces relaxed, making them once again recognizable: Alder; his foster father, the Forestland blacksmith; Garnald the Mirewalker; Ellah; Magister Egey Bashi…

  They were all getting to their feet, smiling. He had saved them from certain death. But just as he was about to rush to them and embrace them, a terrible blast of power sent him tumbling over the ground. His spearhead shattered into a thousand pieces.

  He screamed and woke up.

  It took Kyth a moment to realize where he was. He sat up in bed, slowly recognizing his surroundings. He was in the crew tent, in the bow section of the upper deck of the barge they were traveling on. He was lying on a low wooden bed nailed to the deck. Water splashed overboard, and low gusts of the cool night breeze touched his skin.

  He took a deep breath, the nightmare slowly releasing its hold. Then he saw a dark, still shape at the tent’s entrance, watching.

  Kara.

  When she realized he had noticed her, she turned and walked out of the tent. Kyth hastily scrambled out of bed and followed.

  The deck was awash with moonlight. The lonely crewman on duty quietly dozed at the wheel. Kara made her way past him to the aft section, through a narrow winding passage between the barricades of crates piled on deck to a small, secluded space at the stern. Kyth hurried to catch up.

  She stopped at the rail, looking at the river whose majestically flowing waters glimmered in the light of the moon high overhead. Kyth came over and stood by her side.

  “It seemed like a bad nightmare,” she said.

  He nodded. “Some are worse than others. I hope I didn’t scream and wake you.”

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

  “Why not?”

  She smiled. “Maybe because I’ve had enough? Ever since we came on board, all we do is sleep.”

  “We have a lot to catch up for,” he said, “after our ride to Aknabar.”

  They stood side by side, looking at the low bushes passing by on the distant shore, painted into silvers and blacks by the streaming moonlight.

  “We’re making good speed,” Kara said. “We should arrive in Jaimir tomorrow morning. With luck, we’ll cross over to the Grasslands right away.”

  Her voice sounded calm, but, knowing her well, Kyth could tell she was holding something back. He turned and peered into her face, trying to see her expression. She averted her gaze. It seemed she was deliberately trying to keep her face in the shadows.

  “What is it that you’re not telling me?” Kyth asked quietly.

  She turned her face into the stream of moonlight and closed her eyes, a silvery gleam washing over her face. She looked so beautiful that Kyth’s breath caught in his throat. He could just stand like this forever, watching her.

  “Remember,” she said, “when I told you I wasn’t sure I could handle whoever’s coming after us?”

  “Yes,” Kyth said slowly.

  “After we meet with the Cha’ori,” she said, “you’ll be under the protection of their hort. You must promise that whatever happens, you’ll think only of your mission. You won’t try to do anything foolish.”

  Kyth gave her a searching look. The feverish gleam was back in her eyes, just like before, when she didn’t sleep for eight straight days. Standing next to her, he c
ould feel how tense she was. He had never seen her this way before.

  “You know what’s coming, don’t you?” he asked quietly. “You’ve known all along.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, tell me.”

  She raised her eyes and finally met his gaze. “The Majat Guild. They… they’ll try to capture me and bring me back. They won’t do anything to harm me, but they’d likely have orders to kill anyone who stands in their way. I want you to remember that and not interfere, however bad it looks. Can you promise me that?”

  “You want me to stand by and watch you get captured?”

  Her face was desperate. “There’s nothing you can do. Believe me. I can handle them. If you interfere, you’ll get yourself killed for nothing.”

  “Can you handle them?”

  “Yes.” She looked away, watching the shore slowly moving by.

  Kyth reached over and put an arm around her. She turned and hid her face on his chest. He held her, gently stroking her hair, resting his cheek against the side of her head. He had never seen her like this. Something was terribly wrong, and she wasn’t going to tell him what it was. He stroked her until she quieted, her tense muscles relaxing under his hands.

  After a while, she raised her face to him and put her arms around his neck, drawing him toward her. Lightheaded with her closeness, he brushed his cheek against hers. She turned and met his lips.

  The kiss echoed through his body like thunder, overpowering his weakening mind. He stroked her and she responded, shivering and clinging to him as if her life depended on it. A light moan escaped her lips as his hands found the right spots, evoking a response that surged through, forcing out the last bits of reason. All that remained was raw senses, taking over all possible control.

  Kyth didn’t remember when he suddenly felt that, instead of the shirt, he was touching her bare skin, smooth and firm under his hands, and so hot it burned his fingers. He wasn’t sure how the cloth that separated them disappeared, their contact so sensational that for a blissfully long moment it seemed too overwhelming to bear. He could no longer tell up from down, but it seemed that instead of standing they were lying on a heap of clothes, the rough boards of the deck underneath soft and smooth like the finest bed. His entire being focused on their contact, deeper than one could experience in a lifetime.