The other Syldoon, who I assumed was a Commander, was the shortest in the group and had one large malformed ear that looked like a pale vegetable, and a close-cut blond beard.
The War Memoridons were outfitted like the ones we had met in the frame tower—scale and lamellar cuirasses, blousy trousers, one with a sword, another with a svelte-beaked warhammer on her belt, a third with a military fork propped on her shoulder, and Soffjian was again in her usual scale cuirass, though the bandages underneath were clearly visible on her shoulder. She had her customary ranseur as well, but clearly was in no condition to wield it.
Nustenzia was the only one who looked truly out of place, as she was— unarmed, balanced precariously between haughty resignation and fear, with the carved flesh on her face marking her as an outsider even a distance.
When the group stopped ten feet away, Braylar and his officers saluted Darzaak, fists twisted and hitting their chests, and he returned it briefly, saying, “You lads alright then, Captain? Your sister here was tight-lipped on the particulars.”
Braylar said, “That is not altogether shocking. As to our condition, Commander, most of our men are dead.” He turned and pointed up to the hills. “No doubt you marked those there. That is all that remains of our company.”
Cynead wore a hard smile. “The great provocateur, Captain Braylar Killcoin, unwitting pawn of the Memoridon ploy to undermine everything that underpins our Empire. The irony is thicker than whale oil, really. But still, I had rather hoped that the next time I saw you, your head would be on a pike or some such thing. So very disappointing, truly. I am also surprised my new lieges here have not blasted your skull apart already. I would rather enjoy that, though perhaps they recognize the part you played in abetting them.”
Braylar replied, “Ah, it’s such a treat to see a deposed emperor in the flesh. They so often are only bones. First Thumaar, and now you. I do wonder how long before these Memoridons see that you will only be a magnet for unrest so long as you yet live. They are exceedingly clever. It can’t be long.”
Cynead started to respond, but one of the War Memoridons, a tall woman with her red hair pulled back into a severe bun, turned to the former emperor. “You are here as a courtesy, Syldoon, and have no authority. Do remember that.”
Cynead looked at her, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. “That would be such a difficult thing for me to forget, Memoridon.”
The Commander with the cross-cropped beard nodded at Braylar coolly and said, “Captain. I do not know you except by reputation. But I know Commander Darzaak here, and that is enough for me.”
“Many thanks, Commander Meodrik.” Braylar returned the nod and then looked at Soffjian. “So, as a matter of protocol, how should we address you? Are you a bevy of Empresses, then?”
Soffjian replied, “How we style ourselves is not particularly important. I will only say we are not Empresses. But what is entirely more important, Bray, is that you have called us here, requested this meeting, when you truly should be anywhere else in the world just now. I do recall advising you to flee, did I not?”
“You did indeed,” Braylar said. “And I was eager enough to follow such sound advice. But as you have read in my missive already, that is not possible. Not now.”
Soffjian said, “Yes, yes, a matter of urgency, fate of the empire, so you said. And yet—”
“And yet,” the Memoridon of austere features and bun said, “our sister here made the mistake of allowing you to leave the Citadel in the first place. So we regard her recommendation to meet you here at all to be suspect.”
Braylar replied, “I am quite sure you do, Latvettika. Though I must admit, given that you would not even be the unnamed and multitudinous rulers of a fractured Empire right now but for Soffjian’s expert manipulation of us, I am rather surprised you did not name her Empress for all time and kiss her gilded toes. And as to her allowing us to leave”—he flicked Bloodsounder’s haft up—“I am quite sure you have been briefed—this snake is not to be charmed by the likes of you. So if anything, I allowed her to escape. Pray I do the same with you.”
Latvettika began to reply but Braylar cut her off. “But neither party is here to issue threats or ultimatums or proclamations. We are here because we possess knowledge that might very well save our Empire if we work together. And you are here because your Memoridons in Graymoss have gone utterly silent. So however suspicious you are of my intentions, you would not be here or have brought with you the Commanders as I requested, unless your suspicions that I was telling the truth were greater still. So. Let us try this again, somewhere north of amenity and south of acrimony, yes?”
The other Memoridons glared at him, particularly Latvettika; Soffjian had difficulty curbing a smile, Darzaak didn’t bother hiding his at all, and even Cynead had to appreciate the captain needling his captors from a position of some leverage, even if he wanted the man dead.
Braylar nodded. “Very good. Now, I presume you have all read my brief manifesto on the vast danger currently marching towards you, which means you surely have questions. Ask. But do so with haste. Every moment we spend here discussing the veracity is one less we have to prepare. And there is so very much to do.”
Latvettika said, “How did you do it? That is all I wish to know. Was it that cursed flail?” She looked at Bloodsounder as if it were a real serpent that might strike her at any moment.
“Sadly, no,” Braylar replied. “I had nothing whatsoever to do with it. While I could have slain several of your sisters in Graymoss, I had no desire to, at least no overt desire or plan. But even if I had, there is no way I could have managed such a thing unless they all took supper in a beer garden and imbibed a great deal first. Are they prone to that? I suspect not. So someone would have sent word to you if I had gone on a methodical Memoridon assassination spree. Next question.”
Darzaak all but barked, “I enjoy your machinations as much as the next man, Captain, and hope you have a doozy up your sleeve to justify all this. But cut to the point and be done with this charade.”
Braylar looked at his sister as he replied, “With all due respect, Commander, there is no plot this time. No wheels within wheels. It is actually quite simple. And dire. But before these women can arrive at their own conclusions and act decisively, I require corroboration. And there are only two here who can do so.”
The lightning-bolt vein pierced Soffjian’s brow and she suddenly paled. Very slowly and quietly she said, “I imagined it was Bloodsounder as well. I assured my sisters you had discovered a way to use it to stopper our communication. But that isn’t it. Is it, Bray?”
“Would I possessed such power, blood sister, but no,” Braylar said. “And when you eliminate that, as well as the extremely unlikelihood all your Memoridons contracted the plague on the same day and died before sending word to Sunwrack”—he looked at Nustenzia—“that leaves only one real possibility, does it not?”
Nustenzia closed her eyes and sighed deeply.
Soffjian saw the Focus’s reaction and whispered, “Gods. They are here.”
“Not gods,” Braylar said. “That much you know all too well. But yes, the Deserters are here.”
Latvettika’s lips were so pursed they nearly puckered, and her brow was as wrinkled as a fallow field.
Mulldoos laughed, looking at Soffjian. “Oh, that’s blooming rich! You didn’t plaguing tell them, did you?”
Commander Meodrik was a man of few words, but asked, “What is it I’m missing here?”
Soffjian started to reply, but Latvettika spoke over her. “On that score you are entirely wrong, Lieutenant. Soffjian revealed everything she knew. We merely hoped that she was mad.” She looked at Braylar. “But you are claiming she spoke true? Is that it?”
Braylar replied, “If we had the luxury of time and I trusted you a great deal more, I would simply let you sift through the memories of one of my men and confirm this for yourself. But she spoke truly. The Deserters exist. But the Godveil is a misnomer. While they ar
e incredibly powerful, wield memory magic far beyond your reckoning, and are giants besides, they are not gods. They bleed. They die. At great cost, but they can be defeated. But thanks to your impressive coup, they must believe the Empire is weakened enough to strike now. A large host of Deserters has crossed the Veil. And they are coming for Sunwrack.”
The short-haired and long-faced Memoridon with the military fork said, “Then they are incredible fools as well. Even if these creatures could defeat us in the field—and I am sure you are overestimating them doing even that much—Sunwrack it the most fortified city in the world. It cannot be taken.”
Braylar gave her his most withering look. “And here I thought Memoridons considered themselves paragons of perception. Perhaps you missed the beginning of the conversation, Wenna, when I mentioned where you lost contact with all your sisters in Graymoss? The implication was not especially subtle, but I will spell it out for anyone else obtuse enough to have missed it—the Deserters not only wiped the Memoridons out, but every inhabitant in the city as well. Without engines, sappers, poison, starvation, or any other conventional means of siege craft. In under three days, they killed every man, woman, and child inside, without losing one of their own. Nay, without even knocking down so much as a cup inside. The city itself is untouched, the stones undamaged. It is the most perfectly conceived and executed siege ever carried out, I assure you.”
Wenna all but spat, “Preposterous!”
“I assume,” Braylar said, ignoring her and looking at Latvettika, “that you have already dispatched riders to investigate so you can verify this for yourself. Provided they managed not to run directly into the army of Deserters now headed this way, that is.”
“We are not fools. Of course we did,” Latvettika said.
Of everyone in attendance, only Cynead seemed unrattled by any of this. “So, at the risk of being obtuse, let me see if I apprehend correctly. You somehow crossed the Veil”—he pointed at the flail—“with that, I am guessing, obliquely as it were. And on the other side, you discovered giants—”
“Eyeless horned giants,” Vendurro added.
“Of course,” Cynead said. “Eyeless horned giants, that for a millennium we assumed were the gods who abdicated the realms of men. Only it turns out they are nothing deified at all. That could be seen as a boon or a disaster, depending on who you ask, only you didn’t. Not surprising, but you and your men offended or angered them. That alone might not have been problematic, except for the part you played in upending the powers that be and fracturing the Empire as never before. So they have finally returned, and they mean to destroy us. Is that the sum of things?”
Braylar smiled, remarkably without a twitch. “That is mostly on the mark. Only it isn’t the entire race that has crossed the Veil. Only a small army. Of giants.”
“Well. That is a relief,” Cynead replied.
Commander Meodrik said, “This all sounds like the poorly-drawn panels in a bestiary, and yet you all speak of this as if it is in fact . . . fact. Do you expect me to believe this is true?”
Braylar said, “True, yes. And what’s more, the Deserters do very much possess the means of destroying us. We fought them on the other side, and lost ten men to one of their warriors, but that isn’t the worst of it, being a numbers and strategy game after all. You see, they have the equivalent of Memoridons called Wielders who can do things that would put these women to shame.” The captain looked at his sister. “I imagine you told them of the dome Veil around the city of Roxtiniak?”
She nodded slowly, color draining from her face, looking as pale as Mulldoos, and then Braylar stared at the other Memoridons in turn. “You are all exceptionally familiar with how the Godveil operates, yes? Well, these Veildomes are no different.” He looked at Darzaak and Cynead. “They fashioned the fabric of the Veil into domes around their cities as a means of defense. Only it seems they have learned a new trick.”
The captain addressed the Memoridons again. “My scouts witnessed the Wielders constructing a dome around Graymoss, enveloping the city in its entirety, just as they had their own. Only this dome was not built to defend, but to annihilate. They closed it down on the city over the course of several days, shrinking it, collapsing it in on itself. The dome passed the city walls, growing tighter, and tighter still. They herded every inhabitant to the center of the city, the people inside trampling themselves in vain to try to escape the Veildome closing in around them, until there was simply nowhere left to run. They executed more than sixty thousand without a single loss on their part.”
I looked at the Focus and couldn’t resist saying, “Do you still consider your masters so very superior, Nustenzia?”
Before she had a chance to reply, Braylar turned back to Soffjian. “So. You see, then, that perhaps tearing off your leashes just after paying the Deserters a visit might have been a bit ill-conceived.”
While Soffjian had looked somewhat stricken by the realization of a Deserter laying waste to an entire city a moment ago, her expression hardened. “Do not speak to me of timing, brother. Your kind has a manumission. Ten years a slave? Nothing. You can’t possibly—”
Darzaak interrupted. “We don’t have time for sibling rivalries and spats. What’s done is done. How do we stop them? That’s all that matters.”
“No,” Latvettika said, “that is not all that matters.” She looked at Nustenzia. “Why now? I don’t mean Vrulinka attacking—I saw it on your face; you agree with the Captain’s assessment. And there is no denying that we are in a precarious position.” Wenna started to interject, but Latvettika pressed on. “But if what he claims is true, and the Wielders can envelop and destroy a city with memory magic, why wall us in behind the Godveil in the first place? Why didn’t they simply destroy us all when they realized we posed a threat? Why wait until now to unleash it?”
The Focus looked tired, and suddenly as old as her years. “The Godveil draws memories to it. My masters have ever used it to scry on you. But even if that told them nothing, they are tuned to the channeling of memory magic on this side, and the fetters that contained it. Between those, they felt or saw your Memoridons free themselves.
“And as to why now? The answer is simple. Discovery. Much as you yourselves only recently learned how to untangle a millennium’s worth of invisible chains. My masters have skills far beyond yours, but as has been established, they are not gods. They discover things, just as you did. Vrulinka has long sought a means of manipulating the energies in this way, though I had no idea what she intended to do. I assumed she intended to use such an ability against rival city-states on the other side of the Veil.” She tucked some hair behind her ear nonchalantly and said, “Clearly, she has mastered it now. And found an unexpected use for the tactic.”
Wenna wasn’t convinced. “Even if this is all truth, who is to say they could possibly envelop Sunwrack with such a . . . Veildome. The city is ten times the size of Graymoss, and the trebuchets on the walls would prevent any giants from getting close. Do you really think they are capable of such a feat, creating a dome that massive, or from such a distance?”
Soffjian replied, “Yes, it is ridiculous. It’s not as if these Deserters created a wall of memory magic that encircled and ensorcelled the entire world. Clearly they lack the ability a thousand years later to engineer something on a much smaller scale. How absurd.”
Darzaak said, “Which brings us circling back to my question. How do we plaguing stop them then?”
Braylar replied, “That is precisely why I summoned the bevy here and asked them to include you, Meodrik, and Cynead, as Commanders of three of the most influential Towers.” He looked at Cynead, “And before you disparage the Jackals on size alone, recall that Commander Darzaak is still one of the most respected Commanders in Sunwrack.”
Then he turned to Latvettika again. “You see, while you have control just now, it isn’t exactly the kind that inspires loyalty. While some Towers have openly thrown in their lot with you, many have no desire but to see you
fail and slaughtered in the streets.”
“He does have a point on that score,” Cynead said, smiling.
“So,” Braylar continued, “in order for our stand against the Deserters to succeed, you will need the major Towers to stand as one. And that will only happen if you have respected Commanders such as these three to sway and lead.”
A Memoridon with wide-set eyes and a broad nose, who looked as if she might have been hit by a shovel, spoke up. “He is a known liar. And this is simply a ploy to empower the Towers against us, to set us up for nothing but slaughter or slavery again.”
Braylar regarded her coolly. “It is true, I do have a gift for deception. And I speak the truth only when it directly serves my purpose. As it does here. You will ascertain for yourselves in short order, again assuming your investigators survive. But we need to begin preparations. The threat is very much a reality. The Deserters are here, they are capable of killing off entire cities—large cities—even without bloodying their giant hands, and whatever Vrulinka’s larger agenda, she certainly feels the need to wipe out the Syldoon. If we do nothing, the Empire is doomed. We have fought them. We know their strengths and weaknesses. And we can help marshal the forces to drive them back. That, and that alone, is why I am here. But we must start immediately.”
The flat-faced Memoridon started to reply, but Latvettika held up a hand, and she shut her mouth. “Captain, for what it is worth, I do believe you are correct about the threat. What I fail to understand though, is why you are even here. You fled Sunwrack. Officially and formally, you are no longer even of the Empire. Why return and risk your lives on our behalf? What is it you hope to gain? And before you spout off some creaky platitudes about loyalty to Tower and Commander, need I remind you, you abandoned your Tower in the night, scurrying away like rats.”
Mulldoos looked ready to finally disobey the order about minding his tongue, but it was Braylar’s turn to hold up a hand before replying, “Given your disparate natures, and festering hatred of your former Syldoon overlords, I am sure this will be difficult for you to comprehend, Memoridon. But to a Syldoon soldier, the only thing that does truly matter is one’s Tower. Creaky or not, it is reality, not platitude. And after we inadvertently helped my sister break the binds of the frame . . . ” He paused and then looked at Soffjian. “Lest I forget, I must give credit where it is due—that bit of manipulation and theater was deftly done—I never suspected you were capable of such treachery.”
Chains of the Heretic Page 55