Embers of a Broken Throne

by Terry C. Simpson

  Ryne glanced over to Ancel’s father. Tears trickled down the Lord General’s sunken cheeks. Even his son appeared surprised by them. A smile spread across Stefan’s face and without uttering a word, he strode across the room and hugged his old friend and former General. The two men sobbed and laughed and talked. For the first time in a long while a semblance of joy stirred in Ryne’s chest.

  “I suggest you eat while they catch up on old times.” Garon gestured to the tables.

  “As much as I would love to,” Ancel said, “my people outside are in need of supplies and food themselves. I won’t eat until I know they’re taken care of.”

  Ryne couldn’t help the pride he felt. Ever since the Iluminus Ancel had grown more assertive. Although his father had assumed the lead, Ancel made certain no one wanted for anything.

  “It’s already being handled, I assure you,” Garon said.

  “Thank you.” Ancel nodded once.

  They made their way to the tables and sat. Soon they were digging into beef stew, baked chicken, roasted potatoes, fruit, and pouring kinai wine from several flagons. The drink chased away the onset of Ryne’s fatigue.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him smile.” Guthrie waved a chicken leg in Stefan’s direction.

  “Hmm,” Devan said, “ever since they took Thania he’s been different.”

  “Da …” Mirza bumped his elbow into Devan.

  “Oh sorry, Ancel.” The boulder-shouldered man dipped his head toward the younger Dorn. “I—”

  Ancel waved him off. “It’s fine. And besides you’re right. I wondered if I would ever see any light in his eyes again. Perhaps this is the start of something.” A wistful expression crossed the young man’s face. “Who was he to my father?”

  “General Kasimir Edsel,” Guthrie declared, “one of his most trusted men.”

  “Along with Garrick Nagel, they were near inseparable,” Devan added.

  “Nagel?” Ancel paused with a potato near his mouth. “You mean like Irmina Nagel?”

  Devan nodded. “The same. She’s a sixth or seventh generation Nagel.”

  “Is that the one my father was supposed to have killed?”

  “Oh, there’s no supposing,” Guthrie said between bites. “Stefan took his head and burned the corpse. He’d been taken by the shade, transformed into a wraithwolf.”

  “It changed the old man.” Devan stared openly at Stefan and Edsel. “Changed all of them. Your father had already sworn that his men would be free to return home and start new lives, build families. Nerian took that all away. It was bad enough when he lost to the Erastonians, but after Garrick, your father was determined to save his family and put down Nerian.”

  “He failed on both accounts,” Guthrie said.

  Ancel opened his mouth to speak. A sense of what he intended to say passed through Ryne along their connection. Ryne reached along that link.

  “Don’t,” Ryne ordered.

  “Why? If all these failures and deaths of loved ones is what has my father like this, then telling him can only be for the best.”

  “He would leave everything behind and rush off to find them. His focus needs to be on the work he has to do here, on gathering allies and preparing for what’s to come.”

  “I don’t know. I mean, look at him …”

  Ancel’s pain echoed through the link, a throbbing thing that ate at him as he watched his father’s daily struggle, but Ryne couldn’t allow him to do what he intended.

  “I just need you to trust me on this one thing for bit longer. At least until High Shin Jerem returns.”

  Frustration bubbled through the bond. Then Ancel let out a breath. “Fine.”

  The next few moments passed with the conversation turning to questions for Garon. The four Eldanhill men asked after the city’s people, particularly families they knew from the days of the Shadowbearer War and the War of the Remnants. Garon wove the tale of how they’d become bandits in Felan all the way to them rescuing a batch of Mystera refugees. Jerem had appeared and whisked everyone away to Benez and put Edsel in charge. He was well into telling how they were handling the city’s rebuilding when Stefan and Edsel came to the table. Everyone made to stand, but both men bid them to remain seated.

  “I see you’ve made yourselves at home,” Stefan said, still beaming. “Kasimir, this is my son Ancel.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, young Dorn.” Lamplight shone from the silver flecks sprinkled among the gold of Edsel’s eye. “Your father has told me much about you.”

  Ryne’s brows drew together. The last person he remembered with eyes like those had been Sakari. But unlike Sakari, Charra, or the numerous other netherlings he’d met, Edsel had an aura that carried the same hues and properties as it did in the past. It was smooth and normal without a hint of malice. Not that he could trust it completely, but it gave him some relief.

  “I’m happy to meet you too, sir,” Ancel said. “Anyone who can bring a smile to my father’s face I count as a friend.”

  Edsel chuckled, his intricate silver braids spilling down past the neck of his shirt. “Calling me sir makes me feel old. Not that I’m young, mind you, but I’d much rather Kasimir.”

  “Yes, si—I mean, Kasimir.”

  The old General turned his good eye toward Guthrie and Devan. “And you two, inseparable as ever. It’s good to have two old coots like myself with whom to reminisce.”

  “Never like you,” Devan said, smiling.

  “I’ll have to agree with my friend.” Guthrie had a chicken breast this time. His mouth was already greasy from how much he’d eaten.

  “This is my son, Mirza,” Devan said.

  “With that hair and those looks, he must take after his mother,” Kasimir said, grinning. He grew serious as he noted no one else was amused. “Which brings us to you two.” When Edsel’s gaze passed over Trucida, his eye grew steely. “Ever since what happened to Seti, I’ve had little respect for the Iluminus, so excuse me if I don’t show the proper respect, Exalted.”

  “Well, I didn’t expect hugs and kisses.” Trucida gave Edsel a little smile. “Not after all you have been through. Perhaps before this is all done you can find a place in your heart for us again.”

  “We shall see.”

  Trucida raised a glass of kinai and inclined her head.

  “And you, Ryne Waldron.” Edsel’s smile was warm and wide. “As always you’re welcome under any roof of mine.” The old General paused, surveying everyone but Ryne with that single eye of his. “I was waiting for Stefan to mention it, but it appears none of you know about Ryne.”

  “Know what?” Stefan’s brow wrinkled as he regarded Ryne.

  Ancel was also peering at him, trying to read his face. The young man thought perhaps Edsel was about to reveal the secret. Ryne waited, expression as unreadable as ever.

  “You’re in the presence of the Lightbringer or the Shadeslayer, whichever he’d prefer to be called.” Edsel declared. “Or, if you let the more pious tell it, Ryne the Lost Battleguard.”

  Gasps issued from many a mouth at the table.

  “Wait,” Stefan said, holding up a calloused hand, “I knew there was something familiar about him, but you’re saying this is the same man that saved you at Coronad, that hunted some of the Setian who became Amuni’s Children? We all thought he was dead.”

  “Me too,” Edsel said. “Until he saved us again from a Skadwaz.”

  “Thank you,” Stefan said, expression unreadable despite the praise.

  “It’s the least I could do.” Ryne nodded. “Not all the Setian that fell in those days were the tainted.”

  “Dark times.” Guthrie downed his drink.

  “Well.” Stefan sat and poured himself a cup of wine. “Now that we’re here, we can start to repair our reputation or lack of it. But before that, we need to get our people mended. Trucida, if you don’t mind gathering any other Matii with knowledge on brewing potions and the like, that could go a long way. Edsel, are the old groves stil
l there?”

  Edsel had also taken a seat. “They should be, if the Netherwood hasn’t consumed them.”

  “I’ve been wondering about that place,” Mirza said. “Folks we picked up were whispering all sorts of stories. At first I thought them to be exaggerated, but even here in the city no one ventures close to the woods.”

  “Well, like most things, the stories carry some truth. In the case of the Netherwood, more so than not.” Edsel gave that dry chuckle of his. “Henden, Remus and a few others describe the Nether as place blacker than black itself. That’s how the great forest that surrounds Benez got its name. All kinds of beasts call it home, many of them several times larger than their counterparts on the outside. Even when we launched the final attack on the Shadowbearer here in Benez, we avoided the place. We still should.”

  “Not possible,” Trucida said. “We have many in need of mending, and kinai and fleshberries are essential to my tinctures.”

  Stefan scratched at his beard. “Then we’ll have to brave it. Perhaps a Dagodin cohort and a few Forgers? Not to mention that a path will need to be cleared for the future.”

  “Ancel should be a part of the group,” Ryne said. “And Irmina. Her skill at taming might come in handy. I’d suggest the Seifer and Nema also.”

  Stefan nodded grudgingly. The others agreed.

  “As for our next move, we should consolidate our strength,” the elder Dorn said. “On our way here I sent word to my Banai connections. I’m awaiting their answer.”

  “What do you plan to do about the Astocans and the Cardians?” Edsel asked.

  “Jerem went to speak to this Queen Lina the Everlasting.” Stefan was frowning. “Considering how close he was with Galiana, I trust him. At worst the Cardians and Astocans might end up fighting each other. That gives enough time for the Banai to show where they stand. I’ve also sent to the Harnan by way of the Svenzar. They will spare what they can. Sooner or later the Tribunal will send its forces out from Felan. They know our choices of safe haven are limited to here and Svenzar territory. I want to be ready for them.”

  “Speaking of the Felani,” Edsel said, as he poured himself a drink, “tell me you didn’t have those banners out for all to see when you crossed the Cogal Drin.”

  “We did,” Ancel answered. “Why?”

  Edsel leaned back and shook his head. “Because the Felani have Envoys at various outposts within those mountains. They’ve been there for years, following old legends that said the Setian would one day return.”

  “I guess we have a problem, then.” Every gaze shifted to Ancel. “When Ryne and I went after the last batch of shadelings, mine were at an outpost we passed a few miles from where we met your men. Of the three hunters there, only one survived, a Felani named Kester Merin.”

  Edsel leaned forward, his single eye intense. “Tell me he’s with you or dead.”

  Ancel shook his head. “The last I saw of him he was on horseback, galloping away for all he was worth.”

  “How much time do we have?” Stefan directed the question to Edsel.

  “A few days, possibly a week at most. Like I said, Kester’s an Envoy. As soon as the chance presents itself, he’ll be sending a message through to a Herald.”

  The room became silent. Ryne could picture what followed, as could all of them. Ashishins and Dagodins being marshaled, most likely with Varick at the helm, and High Shins opening portals to Benez. Except a chance existed to stop any Materialization. He had to find a way to introduce it without drawing suspicion to himself.

  “First we must determine the places where they can breach the city by portal,” Stefan said, lips pursed. “Do we have any up to date maps of the city?”

  “We do,” Edsel confirmed, “but the Tribunal’s forces won’t be able to Materialize into the city.” The old man let his words hang, looking to each man. Ryne allowed himself the same puzzled expression as everyone else. “One of the first things Jerem showed my Forgers were the wards the Shadowbearer had set in place to prevent anyone from opening portals directly into the city. All we need to do is reactivate them.”

  “That makes the situation a lot more manageable.” Stefan smiled to match Edsel’s grin.

  As they waited for the maps, Stefan questioned Edsel concerning the forces currently in the city. He also sent for the other Exalted, Irmina, Quintess, a few prominent High Shins, and whomever else Edsel said led the Setian Forgers. He also asked for the brightest Setian Dagodins with potential to lead cohorts.

  Watching the display, some of Ryne’s doubts dwindled. A hint of madness and grief still hovered in Stefan’s eyes and his aura, but the man had finally found something else at which to throw himself.

  Chapter 17

  Ancel left the castle, accompanied by Ryne, Irmina, and Mirza. His father and the other men stayed behind to catch up on old times. Throughout the journey he’d worried over his people on a daily basis. Here in the city, despite the chance of a threat, the tension he experienced had eased from him like the sun burning away morning mist. With its departure he’d also noticed Irmina more.

  He tried to avoid looking at her now and instead pictured what it would be like to finally hold her in his arms later. Playing in her hair while she lay on his chest was a joy he missed. So was their lovemaking. His cheeks and loins grew warm. In order to dispel the thought he surveyed the city and its dark ruins.

  Already the plans they developed inside were taking shape. Torchlight flickered off helmets and armor as the occupied sections of the city showed the activity of men preparing for a possible attack. Radiant pools flickered across the walls where additional guards and Matii took up positions. The highest towers within the city held lookouts. Seifer and Nema scouts teamed with Setian daggerpaw handlers to patrol any areas they thought vulnerable.

  “So you say Benez’s zyphyl was already gone?” Ancel asked Irmina.

  “Yes. Exalted Leukisa claims the Tribunal removed it soon after the Shadowbearer War.”

  He’d been hoping Irmina could recruit another one of the beasts to their side. With the creature gone, it also left them open to attacks from any enemy who could traverse the Travelshaft. At least the one she possessed would warn them of incoming Forges. “How are they protecting the entrance?”

  “A full cohort of Forgers, another of Dagodin, and two made up of archers.” Irmina nodded toward a number of green clad Setian with longbows. “They also have several ballistas loaded with specially imbued stones that explode on impact, flinging liquid fire in every direction. Not to mention a deep pool of pitch spreading from the shaft’s entrance out several hundred feet.”

  “Hydae’s Flames,” Mirza muttered.

  “In this case that would be appropriate.” Irmina smiled grimly. “One thing I can say for them is that they’re efficient and prepared.”

  “Good.” Ancel snapped a brief look toward the Cogal Drin Mountains looming behind them. “It’s more likely they will attack from up there like my father said, but at least we would have ample warning.”

  “You know, I’ve been thinking about that,” Mirza said. “If this Knight Commander is as smart as Stefan and Ryne claim, then I’m willing to wager he’ll do what no one expects.”

  Ancel eyed Ryne. Almost everyone had been surprised the giant Eztezian knew this Knight Commander Varick well. He said he considered the man a friend. “What do you think, Ryne? Any ideas?”

  “The same one I presented inside.” Ryne strode with one arm on his sword hilt. Torchlight flickered off the Etchings covering his arms and armor. “Varick will come straight through the Netherwood.” Not a bit of doubt colored his reply.

  When Ryne had mentioned his opinion, everyone had disagreed. Edsel explained the abnormal size and ferocity of the creatures that called the Netherwood home, but Ryne had been steadfast in his assessment. Even when Stefan had insisted that Varick would try the pass because Matii guarded it. Father quoted the Disciplines as his reason. It is better to fight the enemy with whom one is familiar. Ryne
hadn’t budged.

  Although he had his reservations, Father had ordered lookouts to be set on the Netherwood’s outskirts in conjunction with several Matii, handpicked by Quintess and Ordelia. Each Matus chosen could read the message maps. The use of the maps had been Mirza’s idea. Everyone had forgotten about them. With some tinkering Trucida found a method to remove the map’s connection to the others around Denestia.

  “After giving it some thought, and after looking at the maps, I agree with Ryne.” Expression troubled, Mirza was staring down toward the walls and the broken gates. They would need to get those repaired as soon as possible.

  “Explain,” Ancel said.

  “Well, Edsel mentioned it earlier … the fastest way to attack the city.”

  “Materialize directly here.” Ancel mulled over what he remembered of the conversation and his knowledge concerning Materialization. He let his mind roam, assessing the problem as they strode down the avenue.

  Soldiers continued to flow by, carrying supplies of one sort or another. On several occasions Matii bypassing them recognized Irmina and dipped their heads. Dagodins in uniforms who must have picked out the double set of crossed swords on Mirza’s lapel put fists to heart. Ancel smiled. It felt good to be ignored for a change. Several daggerpaw patrols went by, the smell of the animals thick in the night air. In the midst of his musing, the missing bits of conversation surfaced.

  “First they would have to know the place to even attempt it,” he said. “And that doesn’t account for the wards.”

  “Many among the Tribunal’s forces are as old as your father, so we can be pretty confident they not only have maps, but know this city and the wards,” Mirza said.

  “From the look on your face you don’t think that’s going to stop them.”

  “Delay them a bit, maybe. Stop? No. If I were this Varick I’d go after the wards. They’re imbued within the walls.”