She’d never seen a zyphyl physically latch onto someone. People lost themselves to the visions long before they made it to the exit. To have one of the creatures try to hold onto Ancel was more than troubling. It was frightening. What had it shown him?
Ever since the occurrence, Ryne had become more agitated. He and Mirza waited outside the room with Ancel’s Pathfinders. Charra would have none of it, insisting to be close to his master. She still regretted not being able to question Ancel about the beast. But so far, Charra posed no threat, and its intentions were for Ancel’s well-being. That wasn’t good enough for her considering what it had done to the Quintess and the others, but for now it would have to do.
Her thoughts drifted to Irmina and Eldanhill’s refugees. She hoped Irmina managed to convince the Exalted to spare the lives of the council members. The refugees were of a greater concern. Neither they nor Kachien had made it to Torandil yet. They were several weeks late. Nothing good that she could think of would have caused such a delay.
Added to that dilemma was Jillian’s disappearance. According to the other elders, she’d been gone for months, supposedly researching stories of shadelings somewhere to the north. The woman’s absence worried her, considering what they were about to face. They could use Jillian’s input and her eagles. Why the woman would disobey her orders and leave the planning for their trip from Torandil in someone else’s hands was not acceptable.
Galiana stood and walked over to one of the large windows looking out onto the city. Considered an architectural wonder by many, Torandil sat at the edge of the Hallowed Cliffs, overlooking Bluewater Bay and the many islands and ships dotting its surface. Black basalt, sandstone, bloodstone, and feldspar mixed in with cobalt made up the ordered buildings within the city. Sunlight reflected from them in a myriad of colors that never failed to leave her breathless. She stared across to where the bay’s water caressed the sky, one melding into the other like entwined lovers.
Beyond that horizon lay Ostania, Seti, and the city of Benez. Beyond that horizon was a new beginning. One begun by bloodshed and would end in more before it was done. But it was a beginning nonetheless.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Enter.”
Jerem strode in quickly followed by Ryne. White hair sprinkled with silver strands, Jerem appeared almost emaciated beneath his silver robes. Events had to be taking a great toll on him, yet, he still had a light step to his walk.
“We have a problem,” Jerem said.
“Well, good day to you too,” she replied.
“No time for niceties. We’ve been betrayed.”
She frowned. “By who?”
“Kachien. She’s taken the refugees to Randane.”
A chill eased down Galiana’s spine to match her mounting consternation. “Why Randane?”
“There’s only one reason I can think of. The Bastion. Whoever controls the city must be able to use its power.” Robes swirling about him, Jerem paced back and forth across the carpet. “It makes what the Assembly did even more worrisome.”
Galiana waited for the man to sort his thoughts.
Jerem continued to pace, head down, brow furrowed tightly. He stopped and looked at her. “Why would the Assembly withdraw their forces from Randane knowing the possible threat a Bastion in the hands of its enemies might cause?”
“They did what?” Galiana couldn’t hold back her shock. A Bastion in the wrong person’s possession could be used to circumvent the Vallum’s protection.
“The only Tribunal forces close to Randane are those stationed at Eldanhill under Exalted Leukisa and Ordelia.”
“Two of our own,” Galiana mused. “Your orders or the Assembly’s?”
“Theirs, which means they know where their allegiance lies. I believe the others are of the Shadow Council.”
“That or they belong to the Nine. What do you think, Ryne?” She glanced at the giant man who’d stood silent as he listened.
“It could be worse than simply belonging to the Nine,” he said. “One of them could be one of the Nine.”
“What makes you think that?” she asked, even as she prayed for Ryne to be wrong.
“Too many coincidences, too many pieces moving in concert, too many things in favor of the Nine’s goals. It’s like watching a senjin game without rules unfold. They’re overwhelming us because they can cross zones they aren’t supposed to be able to. We’re stuck in our area while they have us outnumbered and outmaneuvered.”
“You sound as if you’re saying we do not stand a chance,” Jerem said.
“If we don’t change the rules, maybe. At this point, it’s in our interest to assume there are no rules. The Nine intend to replace the gods. The White Council’s primary purpose is to release Ilumni. The Shadow Council wants the same for Amuni. Those don’t exactly fall outside of what the Nine need. The Gray, on the other hand, wish for things to remain the same, for the people to rule themselves, beholding to no gods.”
“Which is no different than it always was,” Jerem pointed out.
Jerem’s lack of surprise or questioning of what the Nine might be registered with her. As usual, the old bastard knew more than he was willing to reveal. She would take the issue up with him at some point, but now was not the time.
“Yes, which supports my line of thinking,” Ryne said. “In order to replace the gods, the Nine need an influx of power. I believe the conflicts started by the Tribunal over the years were more than to just increase the longevity of the Ashishin. Suppose, that like Amuni’s daemons, the Nine have been siphoning sela into the Nether?”
“What made you think of this?” Galiana asked, skeptical but still pondering if it all of it was possible. If it happened to be true, then this Nine Ryne spoke of had been gathering power for millennia.
“What I saw in the zyphyl.”
“And you believe those dreams, those temptations?” Jerem’s expression made his opinion clear.
“Mere dreams for those not an Eztezian.” Ryne let out a breath as if releasing a great weight from his shoulders. “For us, they are the futures, the past, the present, the many possibilities that exist.”
“The Chronicles,” Galiana whispered in awe.
“Yes, and they can get a hold of you, drive you in ways you might not wish. It’s why we banished the zyphyls o the farthest reaches of Everland.”
A knock at the door stopped Galiana from offering her opinion. “Who is it this time,” she called.
High Shin Cantor strode in, his face a mask of worry. “Word has come from the Iluminus. They are ready to act now.”
“They cannot possibly be,” Galiana protested. “This is too soon, much too soon.”
“Time waits for no one,” Jerem said.
“Why though?” Galiana pursed her lips. There was no way Quintess should be ready to make her move. Neither the refugees from Eldanhill or the other Mysteras were safe in Seti as planned.
“According to the reports, the Assembly has summoned the majority of their armies from all over Granadia.”
“To what end?” Galiana asked. “And if so, it only makes Quintess’ position in the Iluminus even more a risk.”
“Let me guess.” Furrows lined Ryne’s forehead. “They did not send them to the Iluminus. They deployed them in Ostania, either at Felan Mark or at the entrance to the Vallum itself.”
Cantor nodded.
Now, Galiana understood. “They are planning to stop us. The only other access through the Vallum is from the Iluminus itself.” Her mind continued to work. The Matii from the Mysteras in Redemia, Konil, and Torcal combined with the ones she’d sent ahead to Torandil months ago, made for a force of over forty thousand, at least half of who were Forgers. That was without counting what the Svenzar brought or the thirty thousand from the Dosteri. An imposing army against many an adversary. Not so in relation to what the Tribunal could muster.
“A bold move, but it does make sense,” Jerem said. “Why come after us when we have to go to them?”
“What should we do?” Galiana was not frightened in the least, but she would rather face the Tribunal’s Matii without risking the refugees.
“Attack,” said a raspy voice.
Everyone turned to Ancel’s bed. His Etchings rippled across his chest and arms as he sat up, sunlight glinting off the intricate artwork.
“That’s madness,” Cantor hissed.
“No.” The hoarseness in Ancel’s voice made it crack. “Think on it. They expect us at the Vallum or at least in Felan Mark. More than likely they have spies among us, Listeners, just like you have among them. By pooling the majority of their army there, they tell us two things. One: they fear the threat we’ve become. Two: the Iluminus is now their weakest point. I overheard much of what you said. You already have people within the Iluminus. Surprise will be your advantage.”
Those words made Galiana regard Ancel in a new light. He might be as much a strategist as his father.
“Not only will you save the thousands here in Torandil, but you will be able to free my father, or at least try.”
Galiana glanced at all the others, not quite certain what she was hearing, but Ryne’s and Jerem’s intrigued expressions matched her own suspicion. “It sounds as if you have other plans.”
Ancel’s eyes were hard, glinting emeralds. “I trusted, Kachien. If this is how she repays that trust, then there can only be one outcome. My father left our people’s fate in my hands. I will not disappoint him. Whatever I have to do, I will get them back or die trying. When I’m finished with Randane, whoever or whatever is there, will find no cobble to hide beneath.”
“Have you given any thought to it being a trap? That this might be exactly what they want? For you to rush off and play savior.” Galiana kept her gaze fixed on Ancel’s face for any sign of doubt, but she saw none.
“I know it’s a trap. King Emory or whoever owns him, wants me, even more so now that I escaped his grasp last time. I’ll give him what he desires, what the shade desires … me. I will let them have a taste of what I bring.” For an instant, his Etchings glowed. “We fight while we take our people to safety. It was silly to think we could do this without losses, without sacrifice. We paid in blood in the past. We will pay now too. But from them we will take what matters most. Their hearts.”
Moments passed in silence as not only she, but also the others stared at Ancel. Pride shone from Ryne’s expression, and she was certain hers might be showing as plainly. She regarded Jerem, who appeared oblivious to all around him as he stroked his wisp of a beard. She could picture Ancel’s suggestions growing in her old mentor’s head, expanding as he analyzed possible outcomes.
“Well said.” Jerem strode over to the window and looked out. “I will send word to Leukisa and Ordelia to assist you at Randane. As for myself, I cannot return to Calisto. The Exalted have already made a decision concerning me. Several High Shin and Raijin loyal to them invaded the city.
“I’ve brought those loyal to me here already. Coupled with the Matii you all possess and the Dosteri’s military, we may succeed striking where they least expect. Plus, it is not as if we intend to hold the Iluminus. Between you,” he turned to nod toward her, “myself, Ryne, and the other High Shin on our side, we can hold it long enough to escape through the Vallum and into the Sands of the Abandoned. From there, we cross the Cogal Drin Mountains and into Benez. Not the plan I had, but it will do.”
Galiana could see how it might work. With support from within the Iluminus, they might manage it after all.
“I’m afraid I will not be accompanying you into Benez,” Ryne said. “I will help as I can with the Iluminus, and no, I will not be there for you either, Ancel. I have faith you will handle what comes until we meet again. I had planned to help my fellow Eztezians at the Great Divide once I took you to safety, but everything I saw within the zyphyl tells me they need me now.”
“Why there?” Jerem asked. “The Skadwaz are massing millions of shadelings northwest of it. Even you and the others would be hard pressed to stop them without help.”
“Because we have no choice, Jerem. It’s either we stop them or the Sanctums of Shelter will fall. As the Sanctums go, so goes the rest of the world, swept under by a black tide before we’ve been able to mount our first real offense.”
Around the room, silence reigned. With so much hanging in the balance, they had to cast aside all doubts. They’d prepared for this for all these years. In ways, it felt good to know the first major battle hovered on the horizon.
“Then, we must plan,” Galiana said, “and be quick about it.”
Ancel sent out for Mirza, and they began to lay down the foundations for what they hoped would be victory.
Chapter 47
Although not fully recovered from his ordeal with the zyphyl, Ancel felt a lot better. Seeing Danvir and Alys again certainly helped. Until he considered the news he had for them.
Danvir had grown larger than when he was in Eldanhill. Not much prettier though. The same old too big ears and nose stood out in his face. Alys, on the other hand, was more beautiful, hair the ochre of sunset, her features fine, an orchid blossoming more lovely than any other bloom.
“We thought you’d never make it here.” Alys smelled of saffron and roses. “Rumors have been spreading that the Ashishin attacked Eldanhill.”
“They did, but we managed to escape, as you see.” Ancel missed the times they once spent together. Overburdening her or Danvir with the details of what occurred in Eldanhill seemed unnecessary.
“What about the others?” Face clean-shaven, and dressed in an immaculate blue coat with white scrollwork down the arms, Danvir made for quite an imposing figure. “My father, Devan, the other council members, the other refugees? I heard that many who abandoned their farms and villages went to Eldanhill. I had cousins among them. Distant ones, but still family.”
This part pained Ancel. He’d chosen to deliver the news to them in person while Galiana’s task was to inform the rest. “Some went to Descane and Old Paltz. I hope your distant cousins might be with them.”
“Where else would they be?” Danvir’s brow puckered.
Ancel sighed. “For whatever reason, it appears that Kachien took the last set of refugees to Randane.”
Alys gasped, bringing a hand to cover her mouth. Danvir’s reaction was a tightening of his jaws and ham-sized fists. His arms looked as if they would burst from the sleeves of his coat.
“I warned you about trusting her.” Danvir’s voice hissed between clenched teeth. “I warned you.”
“You did. But nothing changes what has happened already.”
“What are Galiana and the others planning to do about it?” Alys wrung her hands.
“They have other issues to worry about-”
“Other issues!” Danvir blurted, his face darkening. “What could possibly be more important than our own?”
“Nothing.”
“But you-”
“Dan, you know I wouldn’t leave them to their fate, but we have you and the others here to worry over also. Granadia is no longer safe for any of us. In a few days we’ll be leaving to bring those here to some place safe.”
“There’s no safer place than where we are now, on this side of the Vallum.”
Ancel smiled inwardly. Danvir wasn’t dumb by any means. Never had been. “Maybe that was once true, but with shadelings here, and the Tribunal after us, not to mention the hate the rest of Granadia harbors against the Setian, we have little choice.”
“I am not Setian,” Danvir said. “I was born here.”
“Tell that to any one of the other kingdoms who have already sent threats to King Tozian.”
“Wait.” A frown creased Alys’ forehead. “You don’t mean heading to Ostania, do you?”
“I do.”
“What does my father think about this and the rest of the council?” Danvir asked.
The anger written across Danvir’s face was so raw that Ancel was taken aback. His friend had voiced his
displeasure before he left with the others for Torandil, but his loathing of who they were had grown with time. Ancel wondered how many others felt the same way. “The council supported this decision, Dan.”
“I don’t believe you. Where is my father now so I can ask him?”
He had succeeded in avoiding the question once, but Ancel knew he wouldn’t be able to again. All he could picture was the pain and the anger his words would bring. Overcome with emotion he hadn’t realized he’d buried deep inside, he leaned back and closed his eyes against the urge to cry.
“What is it, Anc?” Alys’ fingers touched his, tentative at first, but then gripped him stronger, squeezing. “What’s wrong?”
Fighting hard to keep his expression steady, he met her eyes. “Your father … my father … the rest of the council … gave themselves up to the Tribunal to help us escape.”
“No, no.” Alys’ face contorted; tears streamed down her cheeks.
Danvir stood abruptly, fists quivering. “Tell me this isn’t true, Ancel. Tell me,” he pleaded.
Mouth downturned, all Ancel could manage was to gaze at his friend. Danvir spun on his heels and stalked from the room. Before Ancel uttered another word, Alys ran after Dan, sobbing. When they left, Ryne walked in.
“I guess they didn’t take it well?” Ryne crossed the room, outfitted in his leather armor, one hand on the greatsword at his hip.
Ancel scowled and turned away to gaze out a large window, its open panes stained in red, green, and blue to match the others in the castle’s northernmost tower. The city below was a beehive of activity. Along lanes and avenues, people packed their belongings into wagons and carts. Many, who weren’t natives, lined the docks or made their way to them along the roads and paths carved into the cliff faces that led to the BlueWater Bay. Ships and boats of all sorts congregated on the ocean. Soldiers in Dosteri colors kept order throughout the city, ensuring that the mass exodus did not lead to riots. At the front gates, more folk streamed out than in. Those on horse or in coaches and wagons inched forward. This high up, the crowd noise was more a buzz than the normal chaotic din associated with a city of Torandil’s size. The Guardian Wall and the Quaking Forest were the lone banners flying.
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