Embers of a Broken Throne

by Terry C. Simpson

  The battle ended abruptly, the zyphyl, dull and gray, falling from the sky. One of Buneri’s tentacles skewered Galiana through the chest. A few hundred black, worm-like forms darted around her, before they paused, and then shot forward as one. They covered Galiana completely. When they finally floated up into the air, not even a bone remained.

  The sphere cut off.

  “This is what really happened,” Ryne said. “A battle between netherlings. A few of them have worn the guise of Exalted for years. Those few believe they can replace the gods, and it’s one of my mandates to stop them. It was their actions that led to the shadelings’ resurgence. You also recognized that last Ashishin they battled against, did you not?”

  The Knight Commander swallowed, and shook his head. “Exalted Jenoah Amelie.”

  “Leader of the Gray Council for years.”

  “But the Grays—”

  “Were never the enemy. The true enemy has always been the Shadow Council and the Light. The Gray tried to thwart them both.”

  “Even if it’s true, how can-how can you stop netherlings? It’s like fighting against the gods.”

  “A vast divide exists between like fighting against the gods and fighting the actual gods. I’ve already begun the process to give us a chance. I changed the properties of the Vallum’s protection to prevent any netherlings from crossing. They will need to destroy the Bastions to undo what I’ve wrought. Only an enemy would do so.”

  Varick paced from one side of the table to the next. He stopped. “One of them fought for you. How can I be certain I’m not already on the correct side.”

  “Because I’m telling you you’re not.” Ryne stared down Varick without flinching. “Trust me, that’s all I’m asking. A battle with us will only serve their purposes in the end, weakening Denestia. We can’t afford that. Regardless of who would win this particular conflict, it’s a small dance at a larger ball.”

  “I-I’ll think about it.”

  Ryne growled under his breath. “I could simply kill you and the Knight Generals and be done with it.”

  “But you need us.”

  Ryne nodded. Varick was too shrewd not to see the dilemma. “Your answers are in Felan Mark. The Tribunal and the Exalted would never allow Seti to rise again. They have used its threat to band together much of Granadia, have they not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

  Varick stopped to think. “The Shadowbearer, and before it, the Luminance Wars. It’s how they gained much support.”

  “It repeats itself now, or so they claim, correct?”

  Varick nodded. “They say the new shadeling incursions are the product of this Setian uprising.”

  “You were with me in Castere,” Ryne said. “I know you saw the Alzari, and many might think what the Tribunal preaches is true. If this threat is what they say then they will hold nothing back in destroying Benez.”

  “Agreed. It’s why they sent actual Tribunal officers and a few Exalted. They also gave me additional soldiers.”

  “Look to your men, Varick. Walk among them as you often do, as your predecessor and mentor, Stefan Dorn always did. Listen to them. I’m certain you will hear many of them voice their doubts about what occurred at the Iluminus. Those are the soldiers the Tribunal sent you. Lastly, look to those Exalted, to any among your men who find one reason or another not to cross the Vallum. Your answers lie there.”

  After a deep breath, Varick’s expression became empty. “When I reach Benez, you’ll have your answer. Until then, I have strategy to discuss.” Without waiting to hear a response, he turned his back, and strode from tent.

  With a sigh, Ryne left. He prayed he wouldn’t need to kill his friend.

  Chapter 23

  “So, with Benez’s wards activated, we play wait and see with this Knight Commander Varick. I just hope Ryne succeeds. I would rather not have to fight.” Ancel hated the idea of losing anyone else. He stood next to Irmina atop Benez’s wall, overlooking the Netherwood, the smells of wet earth and rich forest drifting on the air. Clouds scudded overhead, puffed mounds of ash to match the towering trees. Rain pattered on his head, and a cold breeze flapped his cloak out behind him. “You’ve met him, what kind of man is this Varick?

  “Not one to make any decision lightly,” Irmina said. “I’ve seen him plan strategy and fight. He’s excellent at both, possibly as good as your father.”

  “And he’s got a massive Tribunal army at his disposal.” Ancel sighed heavily. He couldn’t do much about the situation but wait. “How much longer for this visitor of ours?”

  “He should appear any moment.”

  “Any word on the Banai?”

  “Yes. An eagle arrived this morning. Apparently this Gavril is someone with rank among the Banai’s religious sect. He’s willing to meet with you at a place of your choosing.”

  “Good.” Perhaps he could bring the Banai over to their side if Gavril was as much in his father’s debt as Jerem mentioned. So far Father’s other contacts had not responded. It bothered him a bit that Father hadn’t specifically mentioned the man. He hoped it wasn’t due to some enmity he knew nothing about.

  Off to the right, a bird twittered. A red cariot by the sound of it. Except red cariots weren’t known to live in Ostania. A dozen forms appeared within the trees. Accompanied by several Seifer and Nema and their animals, a charcoal-skinned man on horseback approached the city, huddled into furs as if it were the dead of winter instead of the beginning of spring. The man kept glancing around him, the whites of his eyes stark, gaze flitting between the daggerpaws and the wolves.

  Irmina grunted. “Lord Traushen.”

  “You know him?”

  “Yes, an annoying and shrewd Cardian Lord. He petitioned the Astocan court before King Voliny was exposed. He’s the one I told you of some time ago.”

  “Hmm.” Ancel had listened to her tell the story of her exploits in Castere. Hearing her describe the Astocans and Cardians had been fascinating.

  The group drew closer to the main gate. Soldiers called down a challenge. The patrol gave the appropriate answer.

  Ancel eyed Lord Traushen, frowning at the nods the guards gave the Cardian as he passed through the gates. It was as if they were old friends. “I suggest we find out what he wants.” He strode to the other side of the battlements from which he could see much of the city as it sloped up, buildings seeming to grow atop each other. He Shimmered to the ground.

  Irmina landed beside him. “How did you know we’d be able to accomplish that?”

  “Accomplish what?”

  “Shimmer. With the wards, I thought—”

  “As far as I’ve learned, only a complete obstruction of light can prevent a Shimmer.”

  “An umbra. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  They found Lord Traushen dismounted and waiting at the gate. A guard was hurrying up the main avenue to carry word of his arrival to the castle.

  “We’ll take him from here,” Ancel said to the guards. The men bowed and returned to their stations.

  The first impression of the lord said he was the type of man who tended to peer over his nose with disdain at anyone he thought inferior. And that meant almost everyone who wasn’t named Lord Traushen. He somehow achieved this feat despite the top of his fur hat falling even with Ancel’s lower chest. Similar to the Astocans he had slits on the side of his neck that fluttered when he breathed. Dark pupils with a hint of gold glittered from a face like black glass. Or a burnt pot. Either would do. Never before had Ancel encountered a person with such a complexion. He made charcoal look good.

  “I was about to say I’m here to see Stefan Dorn and his son.” Lord Traushen’s easy smile stood out, chips of bleached bone in a tar pit. His voice was garbled, almost a growl, which made Ancel strain to understand him. “But I think I’ve found the son.” The rain pattered harder, a drizzle becoming pebbles.

  “Maybe you have.” Ancel strode over to the man with his hand out. “More i
mportantly, who are you?”

  “You look quite a bit like your sister.”

  Ancel froze and withdrew his hand. Behind him, he heard Irmina’s gasp. He became acutely aware of the pendant under his armor.

  “My sister died a long time ago. So did my brother.” He hadn’t shared what Ryne told him with anyone. A thousand questions raced through his mind, but he forced them down.

  “So the tale went,” the man answered easily, “a cleverly concealed lie. Or if not a lie, let’s say misdirection?” He shrugged. “Cardian myths say a netherling brought her to us.”

  “I’d be careful where I told such stories.” Ancel causally leaned his hand on the sword hilt at his hip. “My father might not take them well. Neither may I.”

  Traushen sniffed the air, and then licked his lips. Above the clasps of his cloak the slits beat feverishly. “No slight intended, but you’re placing me in a dire situation, one that could cost me my life.” Traushen produced a handkerchief and dabbed at his face. “I was ordered here by your sister, Queen Lina the Everlasting, Ruler of all Cardia, the Right Hand of Aeoli, the Left Hand of Hyzenki. When she bids any of her subjects to complete a task, it must be done, or else one loses his head. I’m quite fond of mine.”

  “Then you should be quiet when it comes to any siblings of mine,” Ancel said softly.

  “But I cannot, and thus my dilemma.” He held up his hands slightly apart in a gesture of helplessness. “I’m the poor ant with the boot hovering over him. Regardless of the danger to myself, I must deliver.”

  The man certainly did have a way with words, a bit annoying, but disarming at the same time. Qualities that went well with his infectious smile. His odd manner of speech and accent, however, made Ancel want to stuff his fist down the lord’s throat and tear out his larynx.

  “By the way, this is an interesting place you have here,” Traushen added. “If I’m not mistaken those men outside, well brutes or savages really—” Irmina’s snicker cut him off, and Traushen dipped his head, offering her a smile. “They’re Erastonian and Everlander descendants, some of them might even be from the original bloodlines …” He placed a hand on his chin to stroke a non-existent beard. “I always thought the Dosteri seemed somewhat familiar. And this,” he said, gesturing up toward the castle and the obvious signs of the city’s revival, “who would have thought to see the Setian return? I have little use for prophecy, but to see one come to pass is fascinating. Might make a man believe the rumors of the Shadowbearer’s return.”

  Ancel found himself struggling against Irmina’s hands as they gripped his quivering forearm. He glanced down to see he’d drawn his sword halfway from its scabbard. Water dribbled down his leather pauldron and onto his vambrace, staining the dark leather darker. The wetness felt colder. He shuddered.

  “Calm down,” she implored, voice low. She eyed Traushen. “Be more careful of what you say if you wish to keep your head.”

  Rainwater dribbled down Traushen’s face. He sputtered when he spoke. “I, I can see that now. I, I intended no slight.” He dipped his head in apology several times.

  “If that’s the case you wouldn’t have mentioned the man who’s tormented his family,” Irmina said, scowling.

  Traushen bowed again. “I apologize. I, I wasn’t thinking.”

  “No you weren’t.” Ancel released his grip on his weapon; Irmina’s hand remained on his arm. Although the lord said the words, Ancel doubted Traushen ever did anything without thought. “If you intend to speak to my father, I suggest you don’t make the same mistake.”

  “Again, my apologies. I’ll do as suggested and take more care with my words in the future.”

  Anger abating, Ancel turned from the man. “Follow me.” He strode up the avenue, unperturbed by the increasing downpour, forcing Lord Traushen to follow.

  “Are you alright?” Irmina asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” he answered, resisting the urge to twine his fingers into hers for the comfort it would offer. Offering her a smile, he continued on their path.

  This far down into Benez, the cobbles were cracked and broken, muddy from the passage of soldiers, collecting pools of water, some already stagnant from precipitation weeks’ prior. Since winter had only recently ended, insects hadn’t begun to thrive yet, but Ancel was certain these pools would be teeming with little cretins at some point. The idea made him want to scratch or slap at his neck. Moss and lichen swallowed the buildings in this section of the city, signs of stone few and far between except in the places where the structures had begun to crumble. As much of Benez as was experiencing a revival of sorts, a vast part of the city was dead. Haunted by its past. Still and silent. Skeletal. A shade of its former glory.

  “So, tell me about this sister of mine. How is it that she didn’t know our father was alive?” Ancel slowed a bit to allow Traushen to catch up.

  The man huffed, muttering something about the cold under his breath. “The same way you and many others didn’t know she or your brother Anton still lived: deception, misdirection, a healthy dose of influencing others with the same story. The formula should be familiar.” Lord Traushen glanced at Irmina from the corner of his eye.

  The Cardian was right. Under the Nine’s direction the Tribunal had applied the same methods for millennia. Histories shifted, myths changed, legends rearranged and made, men worshipped like gods, good made to seem evil, and vice versa.

  “What does she want?” Irmina asked.

  “To rekindle her relationship with her parents.” The Cardian eyed Ancel. “To help defeat the shade and whoever might be behind the resurgence of its armies. And to get to know her little brother.”

  Little brother. Ancel replayed the phrase several times, letting it roll through his mind, off his tongue. It felt … good. A hint of a smile touched his lips.

  “Since she’s this, what did you call her? Queen Lina the Everlasting? I suppose she has armies at her disposal,” Ancel said.

  “Indeed, one that when I left was on the verge of taking Castere, and with it, all of Astoca. Given direction by one of your own, a High Shin Jerem.”

  The idea of such a force on their side brought a hundred possibilities. Ancel was glad for Jerem’s success, and relieved that the Astocan and Cardian problem had resolved itself.

  “So,” he said, “tell me about my sister.”

  As he listened to Lord Traushen, excitement bubbled through him. Since Ryne had revealed that Anton and Celina lived he’d fought hard not to say anything about his brother and sister to anyone. It had been especially difficult on nights spent with Irmina. Seeing his father lose a bit of himself made keeping the secret doubly painful. Yet, he’d promised Ryne and Jerem not to broach the subject for the sake of their people. But now with Traushen here, all would be revealed, the blame not on his shoulders. He hoped the news brought his father some solace, a measure of the old Stefan.

  With newfound eagerness he took in the histories the Cardian spilled before him, the rain and coming storm forgotten, swept away on the winds of Lord Traushen’s voice. He held Irmina’s hand, squeezing as they walked, each tidbit a morsel he devoured. To know he had a sister and a brother ready to fight or already fighting on his side made the past few months worth the hardships they had endured.

  When finally they stood before his father in his bedroom, Ancel was grinning. He couldn’t help himself. In response to Stefan’s questioning frown, he gestured to Lord Traushen, introducing the man as a Cardian ambassador. Then he pulled up a chair to watch.

  With Traushen’s every word, Stefan’s eyes grew wider and wider until they appeared as if they’d burst from his skull. All the while, Stefan was muttering under his breath, shaking his head in denial. When at last the Cardian Lord leaned forward and whispered something into his ear, Stefan scrambled over to a small jewelry box. From it he took a pendant. Ancel recognized the piece. It was similar to the one he wore under his armor.

  “Prove what it is you say,” Stefan ordered, hands shaking as he held up
the charm. “Let her show me the twin to this.”

  As if he expected the challenge, Traushen strode over to a message map at the rear of the room. He walked along its length, taking care where he stepped, and making sure he didn’t damage the replicas of the world’s cities. At Castere, he stopped. A nimbus sprang up around him as he Forged.

  Ancel waited, not daring to breathe. The lights on the map glowed in a message he couldn’t decipher. And then the air split. The hole was less than a foot tall where it stretched from the representation of the city to the air above it. Squinting at the portal, both in thought and concern, Ancel couldn’t suppress his gasp when a chain dangled through the opening. The pendant’s twin swung from it

  He made to voice his concern, but Fathers eyes, brimming with tears stopped him. Stefan stared at the pendant a moment longer before the message map’s portal closed. As if released from some enthrallment, Stefan collapsed to his knees, praising Ilumni. Ancel made his way to his father and hugged him tight.

  Chapter 24

  Accompanied by the rainfall’s constant tap on her cloak and hood, Irmina found herself alone atop Benez’s bulwark. Bricks gray as the pregnant clouds, the fortification extended from where the castle nestled against the mountain’s ragged chest. She’d left Ancel with Stefan and Lord Traushen. As much as she preferred to be present, this was a time for him and his father. A time for family. She recalled the sheer joy on Ancel’s face as they walked with the Cardian Lord, the lightness in his step, the enthusiastic squeeze of his hand on hers. The contentment. In the revelation of his siblings, he’d discovered something precious, worthwhile, a ray on a dark day, and he’d clung fast. She wondered if she would ever experience such a feeling. Heart heavy, she pushed the Dorns from her thoughts.

  The Netherwood’s expanse stretched around the city walls before ending hard against the Cogal Drin’s base. Earlier, only the clouds heralded the rainfall, now, thunder and lightning made their grand entrance. Forked arcs seared through the gray mass followed by hungry rumbles. Unlike the storms that chased them on their trek from the Iluminus, this one was natural. Her zyphyl reassured her of that much.