Embers of a Broken Throne

by Terry C. Simpson

  “Like you said, I’m no fool.”

  “Agreed, which is why you must go to the Broken Lands. You might be in more danger here than any other place. That memory Forge you saw wasn’t the Chainin’s reaction to your presence. Someone among you, other than Traushen, knows who I am or who I used to be.”

  “A netherling?”

  “Or someone from the Shadow or Light Councils. You can rule out shadelings. I warded Benez against any guise they might wear.”

  Ancel sighed. “On one hand I have you to contend with and on the other I have the Nine’s agents and Amuni’s Children. Neither of whom we’re strong enough to defeat as yet.”

  “Alone? No. Combined? Possibly. But your brother is on another task. Your sister, however, should be able to help with your endeavor to the Broken Lands. Speak to Jerem. The man has more secrets than an old whore.”

  “Nothing is ever easy.” The sense of a headshake passed through the link. “It feels strange contemplating advice from a sworn enemy. Any sensible person would ignore you.”

  Ryne asked the question niggling at him. “How is Stefan handling this?”

  “To say he’s in a rage would be an understatement. He’s summoned the Council and demanded they send out an army to hunt you down. He even went so far as to say if they didn’t that he’d lead those loyal to him in the endeavor.”

  “It would be a mistake.”

  “How so?”

  “He’d leave Benez and your army exposed to Varick should the Tribunal strike now. You would have to stay. It might be what the Nine or whomever exposed me wishes.” Ryne sensed Ancel’s distrust. It beat with its own rhythm through their link. “By now you realize that feelings are laid bare along the link. You know this is no deception.”

  A long silence stretched between them. Finally, Ancel spoke. “When the time is right, where will I find you?”

  “You will know.”

  Ancel had started down the path, and although it might be sooner than intended, Ryne meant to see him to its end, good or bad.

  “Perhaps, it’s silly of me to ask, but as they say, a man will never know until he tries,” Ancel said, “What do you plan now?”

  “Why, to reclaim what is mine, of course.” With those words, Ryne opened the entrance to the Entosis and stepped inside, cutting off the link.

  When he travelled to the necessary location inside, he opened another door. The Nevermore Heights’ mist-shrouded peaks greeted him, the air warm despite the mountainous terrain. In the center of the Nevermore stood the great Svenzar citadel of the Stone, a mountain unto itself.

  Chapter 30

  “Whatever you do, you mustn’t reveal your knowledge to Ancel,” Jerem admonished with a point of his slender, aged fingers. Thin lips drawn in a tight line, he peered off toward the Netherwood.

  “How can I not? By now he must have put it altogether, he’s no fool. He’s already inquired about my animosity toward Ryne on several occasions.” Irmina gritted her teeth against the idea of what Ancel must be feeling. She blamed herself for not telling him in the first place. Coming to this spot on Benez’s walls, with the cool air and the gray quilt above her, had allowed her time to think, to reach a decision. Until Jerem’s arrival.

  “If you do, it will hurt him further This unfortunate event has dented his already fragile trust. He needs people at his side he can rely upon now more than ever. At least to stay the course for the Broken Lands and the steps afterward. Steer him as necessary.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Deny your knowledge. Tell him your reaction to Ryne was because of your ordeal with the rockhound or that you blamed him for not doing more to help Carnas’ people after the shade took them. Stefan is already making outrageous demands. You, Trucida, and I know Ryne is no threat to us, but we cannot argue the point with anyone else without creating suspicion.”

  She opened her mouth to speak and stopped. “He’s here.”

  Moments after she spoke, Ancel appeared in the alcove a few dozen feet from where they stood. Face mired in flickering shadows cast by lamplight, he strode over to them, his eyes devoid of any emotion. It pained her to see him like this.

  “Jerem, how soon until the Tribunal’s forces arrive?” Ancel asked with such certainty that she frowned.

  “Perhaps a week.”

  “See to it that they’re here in five days.”

  Jerem arched wispy eyebrows.

  “Ancel,” Irmina began.

  “You have access to Heralds, correct?” Ancel gazed off toward the east, ignoring her. It hurt.

  “Yes,” Jerem answered.

  “Good. Pass a message through the maps that Varick must come by afternoon five days from now.”

  “For what purpose?” Eyes narrowed, Jerem watched him.

  “To occupy my father. I’d hate for him to take any soldiers away from here or be foolish enough to chase after Ryne.”

  “Ah.” The High Shin nodded.

  Speechless at Jerem’s acceptance of the order, she waited for Ancel to continue.

  “You two, Cantor, Quintess, and Mirza are among the few I can trust.” Ancel shifted his attention to Jerem. “You, because of Galiana, my mother, and Irmina. They all followed your lead, believed in you.” He turned to her, features softening. “You, because … because I love you. The others because they would die for me.”

  His voice made her want to embrace him, to soothe away his agony. She almost did. A part of her pined to tell him of the zyphyl’s revelation, of the Eztezian in Everland, but that too would create a problem, present a foe for which he was unprepared. Avoiding the thought for fear of the developing link between them proved to be harder by the day.

  To Hydae with Jerem, she decided. “Ancel, I’m sorry I never told you of Ryne. Not a day passed that I didn’t want to, but I knew you needed to learn from him. There was no one else, and if you didn’t learn to control your power, you would die.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I couldn’t have that, couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.” A weight lifted from her, even if her other secrets were a different burden.

  Jerem’s expression could have broken rocks, but she didn’t care. She felt liberated.

  Ancel was simply gazing at her, eyes soft. “I understand. I hate it, but … but I understand.” He let out a deep shuddering breath. “And besides, how can I be angry with you when I kept my own secret? I killed your aunt. I burned the city down around her.”

  “I know,” she said, smiling. “I always knew.”

  “Then why? Why did you ask so many times?”

  “Because I wanted you to be able to tell me anything, to know that I would be there for you regardless. Not to mention that I wanted to be sure, because I really intended to kill her if you hadn’t.”

  Ancel’s face contorted for an instant, the expression somewhere between joy and grief.

  She took a step toward him and threw her hands around his shoulders. “I love you.” She buried her face in his neck, inhaling his scent. He smelled like the Netherwood, but it was he, in her arms. Nothing else mattered.

  “I love you too.”

  Hearing those words never felt so good. Contented at last, she held onto him, before a prickle of concern over what was to come edged through her, made her tense.

  “What is it?” Ancel leaned away from her, the shadow of a frown crossing his face.

  “What you might do next troubles me.”

  “Almost everyone expects me to take up my father’s call, to rush after the Shadowbearer.” He released her, gazing off toward the forest. “Soon, word will go out to the other kingdoms that he lives. Whether they take it as rumor or fact matters not. Benez will become a target. It already is with Varick’s army on our doorstep. Going after Ryne now would be the short term solution, but this isn’t a quick Senjin game, it’s one with a hundred different strategies, and it’s time to put mine own into action.

  “You wonder what I’ll do, well I will tell you. We’re going to the
Broken Lands first, and then wherever else afterward until I’m strong enough to kill Ryne and help defend the land against whatever comes. We will not be cowed, we will not succumb, and we certainly will not fall to the shade or the Nine.” His clenched hands shook, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “I was afraid you’d let what happened sway your decision against doing as Ryne suggested in the first place,” Jerem said. “But I see now that my fears were unwarranted. Any other way I might help?”

  “Yes, in fact, there is. Call to account whatever influences you have in my sister’s court. I need her army to help stop the shade in the Broken Lands.”

  Jerem stroked his beard. “Such a venture might please her.”

  “When she agrees, tell her to meet us at Ostere. Also,” Ancel continued, “you hold sway over the majority of our Matii, see to it that they deny my father any help if he seeks to go after Ryne. I will speak to the other Council members myself. And see what influence Leukisa and Ordelia might have on Varick’s men or the Knight Commander himself. Lastly, don’t reveal any plans until absolutely necessary.”

  “As you wish.” Jerem dipped his head slightly.

  Irmina arched a brow at that. She couldn’t recall ever seeing Jerem take such direct, abrupt orders from anyone. “What am I to be doing when all of this is happening?” she asked.

  “First, you’re going to give me a hand in the Entosis, and then coming with me and bringing our friends.” Ancel nodded toward the Netherwood.

  “Well, if there’s nothing else,” Jerem said, “it is time for me to put things in motion.” He shuffled away, cane tapping on the bricks. After a bit, he paused. “I must say, I’m surprised how well this turned out, all things considered.” He continued into the alcove and the darkness beyond.

  Unable to hold back, Irmina threw her hands around Ancel again and hugged him tight. She so much welcomed his scent that she buried her face in the crook of his neck, and let go of her tears. “How long have you been inside the Eye now?” she said after a few moments.

  “Since it happened.” His shoulders sagged. “I fear what I might do if I come out.”

  She could only imagine what he felt. “You realize you can’t remain within it forever?”

  “As long as I’m using Prima and not Mater to Forge, I should be fine. At least for the moment.”

  In her guise as a Devout she’d witnessed a Matii who’d remained within the Eye for too long while Forging. When the beings within Mater had fully consumed her sela, the woman had gone mad, killing everyone around her. Irmina shivered to think of such a fate befalling him.

  “I will manage.” He stroked her hair.

  “Are you certain?”

  “No. But it makes no difference. I have to.”

  She understood. It made her want to do something, anything to help alleviate his burden. “So what’s this plan for the Entosis.”

  “One you’ll enjoy.”

  As much as the words should have made her feel better, the emptiness in his voice caused her to hold him tighter. Lightning and thunder heralded a patter of raindrops. Unconcerned, she clung to him.

  Chapter 31

  To avoid undue attention and alarm, Ancel left his army of Pathfinders, Dagodins, and Forgers hidden within the foothills of the Ost Mountains. In four days he’d gathered all he needed, including the bulk of the Netherwood’s animals led by Charra and the daggerpaw king. He’d lost valuable time, if what Ryne said held true, but the work in the Entosis with Irmina had taken longer than anticipated. Irmina and Trucida had Materialized his little army to the Fretian Woods, east of Carnas. He’d considered going to see the village of Ryne’s most recent origin, but they advised against it. Nothing but bad memories, they claimed.

  The trip across the last of the Wilds and the Orchid Plains with its flowers in full springtime bloom had been refreshing. He relished the recollection of the red and blue sea’s perfumed aroma as if they still rode through knee-high stalks or whooped and hollered at the great herds of dartans that called the plains home. He could do with that scent now. Along the River Ost they had only the reek of mud and brine for company.

  The closer they came to Ostere, the stronger the bond that told of another Eztezian’s presence grew. As did what he felt through the pendant.

  As they rounded a bend in the River Ost, a small forest on one side, Ostere slid into view. The river’s main tributary split the city down the middle. A white bridge spanned murky waters littered with a variety of vessels, some built for war manned by large crews, others for more leisurely purposes, and the smaller ones occupied with anywhere from two to a dozen fishermen. Squat buildings lined the banks from the docks out to the surrounding fields. One structure was several stories higher than the others, a flag bearing a diamond and a gold bar flying above it.

  The first semblance of a road presented itself, cobbles overgrown with weeds and cracked from years of nonuse. According to Irmina, the Wilds were a place to be shunned except by the most adventurous or foolhardy, and yet in the inherent danger he’d found some solace. Despite her claims, they were no worse for wear. And some place within the city he would meet his long lost sister and take another step to gain what had been thrust upon him. A risk taken for much gain.

  My sister. Heat’s Tenet.

  He grimaced. Shouldn’t he feel something? Elation, anticipation, excitement, a sense of fulfillment? Instead, he was numb.

  For four days he’d made a prison of his emotions within the Eye. Four days to remain detached lest his feelings over Ryne’s deception grow from where it simmered into a blaze to peel skin from flesh and flesh from bone. Even now, with a new goal in sight, he dreaded the thought of putting key to lock and releasing his hate and the fury that would accompany it. Releasing his bloodlust. The wound he nursed was still too fresh, a scab that cracked and leaked blood, an ember destined to explode into roaring flames given a slight breath.

  At least he hadn’t Forged to speed along the depletion of his sela. Regardless, he still felt it leaking away. One day soon it would force him to face the tumult in his mind. He’d worry about it later. In war, one built on small victories.

  “Finally,” Mirza said atop the speckled dartan next to him, “civilization. Good food and a hot bath are calling me.”

  “You might find Banai food a bit spicy for your taste,” Irmina warned. “It’s been known to cause issues for those who lack a strong constitution.”

  “No worries, I have just the cure.” Trucida’s toothless gums showed in a mischievous grin. “Cleans the system out nicely.”

  Mirza groaned. “I’ve had enough cleaning out to last me a lifetime.” He hadn’t taken well to the concoctions Trucida had insisted they drink to combat the Wilds’ dangerous plants and insects.

  “Can never be too clean,” the old Exalted declared. “If your shit doesn’t smell like flowers then something’s wrong.”

  “One man’s flower garden is another man’s outhouse,” Mirza said.

  “There’s nothing pleasing about that picture.” Irmina grimaced in disgust.

  Ancel smiled to see them in such good spirits. His mind drifted back to days like this when it would be Mirza and Danvir beside him. Or when he’d visit Alys or some other girl only to have one of his friends interrupt with loud thumps on the door. He missed Dan, and hoped their old friend would find the home he sought.

  The few Banai along the road, yellow-skinned and bald-headed, gave their party odd looks. Those on mounts offered a cursory nod and handled their dartans with a deftness he envied. As he often did when he encountered new people he took in their auras. Each one held a distinct individuality that would remain etched in his memory. He saw some hostility, but nothing that warned of an attack.

  “Why do they keep looking at us that way?” Mirza asked.

  “Because no one in their right mind would willingly venture into the Wilds,” Irmina said.

  Mirza shrugged. “Except for the insects and those lapra packs, I found the area quite pl
easant.”

  “I think the presence of a few thousand soldiers and our abnormally large allies had more to do with the ease of passage than anything we actually did,” Ancel said.

  “Come to think of it, I would’ve avoided us too.” Mirza shifted in his saddle toward Irmina. “How in Hydae’s Flames did you manage to tame those beasts anyway? Then again, considering the ease with which you slapped a leash on Ancel, I shouldn’t be surprised.” Both he and Irmina broke into chuckles.

  “I think we have a greeting party,” Ancel said, smiling.

  Three dartans trotted toward them, the riders to either side carrying the Banai flag. The two standard-bearers wore sleeveless vests that shimmered each time they caught the sunlight and exposed arms as big as a man’s thigh. An older man rode between them, dressed in plain robes. Unlike the other two who bore colorful swirls on opposite sides of their heads, a tapestry covered this leader’s baldpate, oiled to a sheen.

  “I can see my reflection from here,” Mirza said under his breath.

  “Stop it,” Irmina admonished, but a hint of mirth tinged her words. “He’s their Sojun if my memory serves me correctly. And not one to be trifled with. He has as much or more power than the king.”

  Ancel narrowed his eyes, regarding the men with greater care. “There’s no threat from their auras.”

  “And I haven’t seen anyone who might pass for—” Mirza stopped, turned in his saddle, and let out a groan.

  “Let me guess,” Ancel said, not bothering to glance back. “Soldiers of some sort among the folk who passed us.”

  “Archers,” Mirza said.

  People scrambled from the road as the Banai approached. Each one dropped to their knees in supplication when the Sojun passed. The three riders stopped several feet ahead.

  “I’ll go on alone,” Ancel said.

  “But—” Irmina began.

  “If I see the slightest hint of treachery, I’ll kill them and anyone else armed behind us. So, no worries.” He pulled on the chain reins and sent his dartan into a brisk trot.