Embers of a Broken Throne

by Terry C. Simpson

  A slew of questions passed between the guide and Ancel. Eyes narrowed, Ancel listened. After a while he turned to the others in the room.

  “This man, Keherene, has confirmed my suspicions,” Ancel said. “Amuni’s Children and the shadelings are led by a Skadwaz who is using the message maps to travel faster across the Broken Lands.”

  “How?” Irmina asked. She’d seen Bodo work the maps. A way to use them to travel faster seemed impossible.

  Ancel faced his sister. “I wondered about the possibility when Traushen used the map in Benez to connect to you and you were able to send a message through much like the Envoys do. By then we had already activated Benez’s wards against Materialization. I also noted that I could Shimmer, which made me believe the wards are attuned to a specific type of portal or Forge.

  “Those two things gave me an idea. The maps work like the Travelshafts, each side needing to be cut from the same stone, from the same Forms. The Skadwaz are tinkering with the message portals whenever they sense one open. Someone among them is strong enough in the Forms to make the portals in the stones big enough to step through, thus circumventing the Broken Lands’ wards.”

  “Ingenious,” Mirza said. “I’d never think of that.”

  “Do you think those pets of yours can get us there quickly enough, Irmina?” Trucida asked. At first the old Exalted had her reservations when Ancel first brought the creatures near Carnas, but she hadn’t said much after she saw them in action.

  “They say they can.” Irmina gestured to the Desorin. “Ask him how far the armies are from Kajeta.”

  Another series of questions followed from Ancel to Keherene.

  “Two cities, a few hundred miles. He says the Desorin Assembly has sent forth most of their army and destroyed the message maps. If all goes well it will buy them a few weeks to evacuate all they can from Kajeta.”

  A few weeks. Irmina glanced at Mirza. He’d become adept at riding the new mounts in a short space of time and was a good judge of the distance the creatures could Shimmer.

  “It might be enough, depending on Ancel’s diversion, and how long it takes our guide to get the Queen’s forces to Kajeta,” Mirza said, stroking his braided beard.

  Words passed between Ancel and the guide once more. The man was protesting something, shaking his head from side to side while throwing up his hands. Eventually, he gave in.

  “He says it’s risky, maybe impossible, but I convinced him to try. I guess it’s time for us to act then.” Ancel’s expression hardened, eyes pinpoints of emerald steel. “Sister, make your arrangements with him and the Sojun to accommodate your men. Irmina, Mirza, if you will, I have a meeting to attend in the Nevermore.”

  Chapter 34

  Under a sun that baked the land around them, Ancel stood beside Irmina upon a path that snaked along a wind-blasted ridge. To one side the land fell away, an abundance of kinai and fleshberries crowding the slopes, sprinkling the air with the fruits’ sweet blooms. The groves spread down to the edges of a forest, its canopy a carpet. Well past the mountains’ feet the silvery glint of rivers flowed, veins splitting the patterns of light and dark greens, faded and deep browns, and in some places threading through the cities that appeared as toy-sized replicas on a map. Up ahead, peaks sprouted into impenetrable mists.

  “I am glad to see you once more,” Halvor said, musical tones echoing in his words. The Svenzar had reduced the stony planes of his body to ten feet from a height four times that. “Guardian Waldron said you would come.”

  The mention of Ryne struck a spark inside Ancel. With an effort of will he suffocated it before it grew to a blaze. “You know who he really is, don’t you?”

  “The Svenzar do, yes.”

  “Why have you helped him? All the suffering he’s caused, why not kill him?”

  “It is not our place to decide his fate,” Halvor said. “We forbade ourselves from interference long ago. At one time we had many Eztezians among us, including a few Chroniclers, and some of us used the futures they laid out to alter events. More often than not, those changes worked against all of Denestia. Whether those events were of an atrocity that we could prevent mattered not. So we did what we could. In life, there are times when darkness is needed to make the bright days more appreciative. This holds true particularly among you humans.”

  Ancel grunted. He gazed toward the central peaks where he felt the pull that spoke of Ryne’s location. Other resonances drew him: Stefan’s from Benez, his mother’s as a slight tug toward the northwest. Within range of Irmina’s zyphyl he still could not feel the other Eztezians.

  Resisting the urge to link with Ryne’s mind, to Materialize to him and strike, was more than just difficult; it was near impossible. He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. “Did he say why I would come?”

  “He did. It is the reason I brought them.” The Svenzar beckoned to the plateau behind him, a metallic glint reflecting from his hand and arm.

  The Svenzar army stood beneath fluttering banners that depicted a line of mountains. Among them Ancel picked out only six actual Svenzar, miniature mountains to their smaller counterparts and offspring, the Sven. He recognized at least one of them as Svenzar Kendin. Lined in front of the Stoneform creatures were tall, gangly men, hair sandy brown or russet, skin tones polished sandalwood. One might ignore the simple leather and cloth they wore, but their long-hafted great-axes could not be dismissed.

  The rocky ground ahead of the formation shifted and roiled, and Ancel took an inadvertent step back. The ground to the left and right of the Svenzar burst apart. Gerde poured forth, bodies stony carapaces, the eight legs on each clicking on stony ground. Eyes wide, he watched as they flowed together by the hundreds, seamless, until what appeared to be another thirty Svenzar occupied either side of the army.

  Halvor bellowed a command in Sven, his words a rhythmic drumbeat, a rolling peal of thunder that carried through the air. A gasp from Irmina made Ancel shift his head to follow her gaze.

  From the tree-line strode at least another hundred Sven, stone and dirt falling away from their bodies. Each step they made caused grass and new growths to sprout. As fascinating as their appearance was, the creatures with them were even more so. Rockhounds to match Charra’s size stalked ahead of the Sven, each one’s body a mixture of sediment and lichen-covered stone.

  “So what do you think Guardian Ancel Dorn, will this small force of ours suffice?”

  Ancel thought the Svenzar was either making a silly jest or gloating, but Halvor’s impassive expression said different. “It should be enough to get their attention at least.”

  “But you need to hold it, if I am not mistaken. What is your plan to ensure that happens?”

  “I’ve seen your people fight, and the stories of the Harnan Stoneguard precede them. And I’ve also battled shadelings myself. Although deadly, the shade’s minions pale in comparison to you.”

  “You fought the weakest among them.” Halvor said. “Wraithwolves and darkwraiths are little more than Amuni’s footsoldiers.”

  Ancel smirked. “Are daemons and a Skadwaz also footsoldiers?”

  “Underestimating your opponent is a precursor to losing a battle,” Halvor rumbled. “Considering who your father is, I would expect the Disciplines to be ingrained into you.”

  “I’m not underestimating them. I defeated them before.”

  “Every battle is different, each one with its own advantages and disadvantages, formations, soldiers, and generals. To act as if your enemy cannot change as you can is to mislead yourself. Tell me, young Dorn, can you best Guardian Waldron?”

  Ancel clenched his fist. “At the moment, no.”

  “And yet you’re an Eztezian like him.”

  “He’s more powerful, more experienced.”

  “And your father, have you bested his swordsmanship yet?”

  “No.”

  “And yet you’re more powerful.” Halvor looked at him, face blank.

  Ancel hung his head. He had overlooked a
n obvious aspect of battle.

  “This plan of yours has its merits, but somewhere in its formation, you either let the fires of your anger or your detachment within the Shunyata skew your thoughts.” The Svenzar’s face softened. “Your destruction of another Chainin means even stronger creatures have crossed the Planes. We know of at least four archdaemons, and they make daemons seem like children. We also garnered reports of grogs. Where there are grogs, there will be gurangars.”

  “Gurangars?” Irmina repeated.

  “Giant creatures of ebon steel, shade, and flesh, as skilled as any Raijin with their blades, so adept in Forging that they remain unseen until the moment they strike. Grogs are their scouts.”

  Considering the number grogs they’d killed on their trek to Benez, Ancel could only imagine how many of these gurangars were among the shade’s armies. He recalled the one that had attacked him in the Cogal Drin. The creature’s skill had been worrisome.

  “Do they have a weakness?” Irmina asked.

  “They rely too heavily on the element of surprise,” Halvor said. “Gurangars prefer to watch their enemies engage the grogs to get a sense of how their target fights. Their biggest flaw is their belief in their invisibility. One might not be able to see the beast’s true form until it appears, but if you keep them to the edge of your vision, you can make them out. They appear as a distortion, a haze on the air, and with them comes a chill as they suck away heat essences.”

  “So they prefer to strike from hiding, like cowards,” Irmina scoffed.

  “It makes them no less dangerous,” Ancel said. “Who among you is strongest with the Forms?” He nodded toward the gathered army.

  “We are all adept, but I can give you at least five who are particularly gifted.” Halvor issued another command, the tone softer. Five Sven strode forward. “These will be able to do anything you ask of them with the Forms.”

  “Good,” Ancel said. “If your men are ready, our destination lies east of here, where the Nevermore Heights overlook the Broken Lands.”

  “Not the Nevermore,” Halvor said, “the Riven Reaches. It is an easy enough trip. We can open a portal to the slopes you require.”

  “Is there a navigable route down from there? And how long would it take? Time is the one thing working against us here.”

  Halvor smiled, rocky chips falling from his lips. “We are the Svenzar, all the Forms belong to us. For us, traversing a mountain is the equivalent of walking on a cobbled street for you.”

  Ancel turned to Irmina. “Return to Mirza and the others and move into position. Give me one day.” He hoped it would be enough.

  She stepped toward him, inched up on her toes, and planted a kiss on his lips. He kissed her back, one hand clinging to hers. When they finally parted, his heart was racing. Since the revelation with Ryne, he’d forgotten how good it felt to experience her touch.

  “Be safe.” She gave him another peck.

  “You too.”

  Their hands lingered on each other for a moment before she released, strode a few feet away, and opened a portal beyond which he saw the Orchid Plains. An army waited on the other side, the Quaking Forest, the Guardian Wall, and the Searing Fist flying high above them. She stepped through, and the slit closed behind her.

  By the time he brought his attention back to Halvor, another portal was open, large enough to swallow several Svenzar. The army marched through to a rocky wall, the sky lit in blood behind it. Halvor beckoned him on. After one last glance toward where Irmina had been, Ancel followed them.

  Halvor and Kendin stood at a split between cliffs that towered on either side of their army. Wrinkling his nose, Ancel joined them. He would have expected the air here to be pure, clean, but instead he caught an unsavory scent that reminded him of strong incense or rotten eggs. He recalled Ryne’s warning and Forged, filtering the stench. As he breathed easier, the area thousands of feet below them caught his attention.

  Under the red sky, a vast land spread for miles. Crevasses and rents in the earth belched steam, gases, and fire. Major sections of land were cut off by such phenomena. A few had the remnants of bridges, jagged edges hanging over nothingness or molten rock. Heat rose in waves, and Ancel was sure it would have scorched him if not for the protection his Etchings offered. Smoke drifted from the skeletal remains of cities, towns, villages, and in some places from swaths of land that appeared to have once held plant life. He gasped as he scanned beyond the devastation.

  Arrayed before one of the three remaining cities was a massive army, boiling black. A contingent from the city was attempting to circle wide to the edges of the Riven Reaches miles from where he stood. Creatures appeared in their midst, out of nothing, size to challenge the Svenzar, metal glinting from their dark bodies. They bore blades that might hew a barn in two. With vicious swipes, they tore through the Desorin, shearing through several soldiers at once. Those not sliced in half or mangled by the blades were sent flying several dozen feet.

  “Gurangars,” Halvor said.

  “Where are my five?” Ancel asked, letting the massacre pass over him.

  Halvor made another musical sound. The five Sven joined them.

  In Sven. Ancel said, “What we do now, we might not survive. I want only those who would volunteer.”

  “It is why we are all here,” Halvor answered.

  Impressed, Ancel gave the Svenzar a grim nod. “Their numbers are more than expected, but it doesn’t change my plan. It means more of you will be involved than I wanted. Our force must appear to be able to challenge theirs. Since you’re all adept in the Forms, follow my lead.”

  He delved into the mountains and earth around him, using their structure to create constructs by the thousands. They grew from the very walls, from cliff faces and crags, from boulders. When he glanced behind him, their force had more than quintupled.

  Ancel drew his swords. Battle energy crept through him, but he kept enough of his emotions in check so his bloodlust would not become overpowering. “Now, how quickly you can descend?”

  “See for yourself.” Halvor pointed.

  Ancel leaned over the cliff. At the base, Sven, Svenzar, and gerde appeared, protruding from the rock-face before they detached and stood.

  “Now it is our turn.” Halvor grew, his stoneform stretching up until Ancel had to crane his neck. The Svenzar could have been a part of the mountain. He reached down and held out his open palm. Shaking his head in disbelief, Ancel stepped onto Halvor’s fingers, and then into his palm. With his next move, Halvor strode off the precipice.

  Exhilaration surged through Ancel. The Svenzar stepped down onto the Broken Lands as if the Riven Reaches had been a stair. Already, Ancel could tell that Halvor’s monolithic size had drawn the shadelings armies’ attention. He needed to hold it.

  “Tell the five to stay close. They must protect me.”

  A croon echoed from Halvor’s throat, washing through the air. He placed Ancel on the ground, and his massive form subsided.

  Ancel charged toward the oncoming shadelings. One thought dominated his mind. They had to believe.

  Chapter 35

  Winds swirled, each gust threatening to snatch Ryne from his perch. In a pass between two massive cliff faces, four Svenzar and several Sven commanded the Forms in Forges he could only dream of duplicating. He’d once thought himself a master at construct creation, but those below made him feel like a mere novice. Metal, wood, and earth essences had coalesced into intricate threads, the final product perfect down to the tiniest details. Any person would have a difficult time discerning the constructs from the real creatures.

  Roaring, the constructs and the rest of the Svenzar forces engaged at least a dozen shadebanes, matching their enemies in number. The ground shook with their charge. Ryne followed the ebb and flow of combat, amazed at what the Sven were achieving. They’d come so far since the days of the Luminance Wars. Their constructs fought with an intelligence he would have once thought impossible. He could see their one flaw, but it matte
red not. A quick burst of power directed by one of the real Sven or Svenzar among them, and the enemy would believe their foe had Forged.

  Considering the battle was being fought on terrain pockmarked with rents, holes, and crevasses, some spouting steam that filled the air with sulfurous fumes, the advantage should have been the Sven’s with their ability to dissolve into stone and traverse the field. But time spent within the Broken Lands had taught the shadelings the value of Blurring. Wraithwolves, darkwraiths, and infected Alzari utilized the skill, launching themselves over any spaces to attack their enemies. They sought to overwhelm by sheer volume.

  In the midst of the shadelings armies, the ground rumbled and shook, gouts of fire, steam, and rock fountaining into the air. From the rents, giant stoneform creatures appeared, splitting apart almost immediately into a few thousand gerde. They hamstrung and maimed before being absorbed into the ground once again. The attacks repeated, wreaking havoc on the shadelings and men alike.

  But the Svenzar forces weren’t on the winning side of every such clash. Skittering grogs sped between legs and over bodies, tearing into enemy lines. A subtle shift in the battlefield’s heated haze followed. That haze became gurangars, titanic in size, massive swords shearing through five to ten Sven with each strike. Any foe still standing was met with a black wave of shade, all rot and filth and death.

  The Harnan Stoneguard, who had remained out of the fray, engaged. Using their connection with the earth essences below them like a spring, they leaped over Sven to within a dozen feet of the gurangars. The moment they landed, they flung their long-hafted axes as one. End over end, the weapons spun sideways, slicing into gurangar legs, arms, and backs. With each strike the Stoneguard called upon the essences imbued into their weapons, weakening the shadelings’ ebon steel skin. Before the gurangars shifted into their invisible states, nearby Sven joined together, bodies enlarging. Bellowing, they pummeled the gurangars with Form-enhanced fists.

  As ferocious and deadly as the Svenzar attack had been, they were still being forced to retreat. Foot by bloody foot they fell back, a litter of bodies in their wake.