Aegis of The Gods: Book 02 - Ashes and Blood
Page 21
The room spun and blackness took him.
Chapter 27
Sometimes the snow fell so heavily it blotted out the surroundings, but as the flakes touched the ground, the blood of the fallen painted it red. Moans of the dying, wails of the mourning, screeches of the bloodthirsty, and the gurgles of death washed through the air upon the howling wind. Mangled armor and torn bodies lay strewn as far as the eye could see as if flung by a massive storm.
There had been a storm, Sakari thought. A storm of death.
His shadeling army boiled black across the land tearing into the Dagodin ranks.
And shattered.
Garbed in armor to match the bloody snow, the Tribunal’s soldiers held fast. Their shield wall dropped with the precision of a hundred thousand dancers synchronized to one song. A symphony of steel played. Shadelings died.
Several hundred beasts Blurred up and over the shield wall. Bolts of fire and lightning met them. The concussions from both should have rocked the Dagodin formations below the shadelings, but the Shins had formed a layered barrier to protect them. Dark blood spattered upon its surface. Bodies landed, appearing as if they were suspended in the air above the enemy’s ranks.
As for his vasumbrals, the writhing, worm-like monstrosities churned underground before boring up and out. Earth and snow crashed into any nearby soldiers, flinging them from their feet or crushing them. Maws agape the beasts snatched men by threes or fours, their black bodies bulging as they swallowed. Foolhardy Shins attacked them with any manner of Forge, from icy spikes able to skewer a man in half, to searing fire waves or bolts crackling with energy. Unaffected, the vasumbrals wreaked havoc, absorbing as many Forges as they could, growing stronger, maturing.
But not fast enough. Not against this army.
The telltale hiss that imitated a giant sword slicing the wind rose over the din of battle. Those weren’t any blades. More portals were opening to allow the Tribunal’s Matii in—Dagodin, Shin, High Shin, and Raijin by the thousands.
Mater surged moments later. A swath of light cut through a shadebane, decimating its number by half. The daemons threw up their own shield too late, barely saving a few of their number.
With the Exalted and the Raijin joining the fray, he knew he needed to call a retreat. This wasn’t the time or the place to war against them. Not unprepared. Not without the Skadwaz and not with immature vasumbrals. Besides, Ryne and his ward had fled. Of that, he was sure.
He considered breaching the shield over the town and taking the young man’s father and the woman, Irmina. He sensed her presence there and knew the council was still within Eldanhill’s confines. Acquiring either would not break the accords as they had both attacked him directly. However, destroying the shield would expose the rest of Eldanhill. That would violate the agreement.
So much had transpired as he hoped, as his master decreed, but so much had gone wrong. Ever since Benez, he and Thanarien had searched for years to find the Dorns, all to no avail. Rumors spread like snow from the heavens, each one dissolving when they grew warm. Someone had used his master’s own methods against them, spreading lies as if they were the truth, subtly changing fact into myth and myth into fact.
Now, he’d failed by no fault of his own, or at least it would appear that way to Kahkon. The accords had always been a hindrance, but the Eztezians forced it upon the Nine as reassurance before accepting the Etchings. As much as it seemed that he had wanted to fulfill the orders to kill Thanarien, they prevented him and any other netherling from doing so. He could not help his smile. A useless habit he’d picked up from humanity, but he smiled nonetheless. The pact was of no consequence now though, not as far as Thanarien was concerned. His old master had broken that protection himself.
A chance still remained to trap Thanarien and his ward, but he doubted anyone else knew the location of the nearest Entosis. If they did, then Charra would need to lend a hand. He knew he needed to tread carefully now. His job was a precarious undertaking. Hopefully, he’d bought enough time.
After surveying the remnants of the battle once more, he decided it was time to withdraw. He nodded to the ebony, glossy-winged form of the archdaemon, its color tinged with deep blue, and watched as it concentrated, fixing its mind along the link with all its brethren.
As he turned away, Sakari waved a hand and several portals appeared, their blackness blotting out the land behind them. He stepped through. The portals would be left open long enough for the vasumbrals and the daemons. Whatever shadelings made it back through would be a plus. The rest he would abandon to wreak havoc and keep the Tribunal occupied for a while.
He had a homecoming to prepare.
Chapter 28
On one knee, head bowed, Irmina waited for the Exalted. The stillness of the room needled at her, making her want to stand, move around, anything to dispel her apprehension. The marble floor of the Mystera’s main audience hall was cold even through her leather armor. Dagodin and Ashishin had escorted Stefan and the other council members to another building. Full-throated screams echoed from that direction, rising above the howling gale outside. She flinched with each painful wail.
When the door opened, five people strode into the room, chilly air and swirls of snow accompanying them. If not for the softness of the three females’ features, the difference in sex would have been impossible to tell, especially with their matching, pristine white robes. Colors shimmered from their sleeves as if a living rainbow inhabited them. As she noticed within their room at the Iluminus, the reek of festering flesh wafted from the Exalted. Throat constricting, Irmina swallowed against a sudden lump.
The Exalted’s heads were bald and speckled like eggs. But where an egg would be smooth, their skin reminded her of old, pale leather. It was wrinkled and dry, loose in spots, pulling at the edges in some areas, while tight and shiny in others. Not a single pair of eyes among them contained an iris and instead appeared to be radiant, golden pools. The hands exposed by the openings of their long sleeves bore the same splotches as their faces and heads and were just as sickly and emaciated. Irmina always thought of Jerem as old, maybe ancient. When she gazed upon the Exalted, one word came to mind.
Eternal.
“Stand.” Their voices were one.
She obeyed.
“What is the meaning of this, Raijin Irmina?” The voice was the disembodied one she remembered from the Iluminus.
Irmina tried to discern who spoke but not a single pair of lips moved.
“You were ordered to kill this Ryne, whoever he was linked with, and the council.”
“You did none of this but still saw fit to call on us,” said the voice that dripped like water.
“You failed,” said musical tones.
“Yet you dared summons usss,” hissed steam from liquid poured over hot coals
“Punishment,” Thunder rumbled.
The voices rose around her, their doubts repeated, their threats maintained. They came from so many directions her head spun. If there had been a wall close by, she would have leaned on it to steady herself. Instead, she did the one thing she could think of; she allowed herself to delve into the Eye. Almost instantly, a sense of calm settled over her.
With serenity came clarity. Each voice grew more distinct. She could attach each to a face. Disembodied belonged to the woman on the far right, her nose slightly crooked. Musical tones tinkled from a man with smoother features than the others, his skin a shade darker, a wry smile on his face. Owned by a woman a hand taller than the other two females, dripping water pattered faster and faster before cutting off as Irmina stared directly at her. The hissing voice was a woman who made a habit of interlocking her fingers as she spoke and whose expression showed no emotion. The last man, thunder, had eyes that reminded her of storm clouds. Their voices dwindled to a faint buzz as Irmina looked from one to the other.
Gasps escaped the Exalted’s lips, and more than one wore wide-eyed expressions of shock. Within moments though, their features became serene.
Emboldened by their faltering, Irmina folded her arms. “This would go easier if I knew your names.” Several sets of hairless eyebrows arched at her statement. “And please stay out of my—”
A hand raised by the man with the stormy eyes cut her off. But the effect wasn’t just from his hand. Something constricted against her throat, preventing her from speaking. She snatched at her Matersense and choked back a yell at what she saw.
Mater boiled around the Exalted in thick bands, undulating, overlapping and in so many strands and colors she was unable to separate each or discern the difference in the essences much less the elements. Elongated strands of Mater stretched from the man’s hand to her throat. As his fingers tightened so did the tendrils around her neck. A stern look from the disembodied woman, and the pressure eased. The woman cocked her head and stared at her counterpart. He sighed, and the elements retreated.
Heart thumping, blood roaring in her ears, Irmina sucked in a breath. Her fear threatened to skitter within the boundaries of the Eye. By sheer force of will, she inhaled deeply several more times before her hand stopped its shaking, and her heartbeat eased.
“Raijin Irmina,” the woman with the disembodied voice said. “I am Exalted Malinda. It is uncommon. No. I will be frank. What you did has not been done in five hundred years. So please pardon Exalted Buneri.” She tilted her head toward the man whose stormy eyes now flashed, his lips curling as he sneered. “This,” Malinda continued, pointing to the younger male in their group, “is Exalted Leukisa.” She motioned to the taller of the other two women. “Exalted Ordelia and this is—”
“I’m Verturi,” hissed the remaining woman, eyes cold and dead.
“Thank you.” Irmina bowed. “I meant no disrespect, but when you’re in my head, I find it hard to think.”
“We understand,” Leukisa said.
“But you must still explain,” began Ordelia.
“Why the Council is alive,” added Malinda.
“As well as Ryne and the one he’s linked to,” finished Buneri.
Face a blank mask, Verturi merely tilted her head to one side.
“The shadeling army attacked as I was about to strike at Ryne. He went to fight them.” Irmina kept her gaze steady and unflinching as she spoke. “Galiana Materialized with Ancel before I could do anything. The remaining Shin did the same for the people who were left.”
“Those traitors are not Shin,” Buneri said. “Never have been. Never will be.”
“Where did she take them?” Malinda asked.
Irmina bowed, making her voice carry the appropriate amount of regret. “I-I don’t know, Exalted.”
Buneri snorted.
“And the others?” Malinda asked.
Irmina glanced up to meet their eyes. “From what I overheard before they departed, they headed to Cahar and the port there.”
“Hmm. How is it then that you managed to take the council?” Ordelia’s lips curved into a slight smile.
Irmina sensed she needed to be extra careful around her. She shrugged. “You saw how many of their Matii are dead near the gates. I managed to defeat the ones responsible for the council before they Forged.”
“Well, at least she gave us that much,” rumbled Buneri with a smirk and slight shake of his head. “But let me guess, Malinda, you will say to allow her to live.”
“She managed to get us the boy’s father,” Malinda said. “Come now, Buneri, you did not expect her to challenge the Eztezian did you?”
“Expectation and orders are two different things.” Buneri folded his arms, placing his hands into the sleeves of his robe. “The question is did she try?”
“What you wanted would have been suicide,” Irmina said, “but I would have tried.”
“Sometimes death is preferable to not making an attempt.” Verturi’s expression remained blank, but a certain glint in her eyes told she expected nothing less.
“And if I died,” Irmina allowed her annoyance to drip from her words, “who would tell you that the man who brought those shadelings was himself a netherling? The very same creature, in fact, that once posed as Ryne’s bodyguard?”
Not only did their expressions change, but their thoughts, their voices rose in a thousand whispers like the rustlings of a reedy field on an especially windy day. Concern, disbelief, but above all, fear skittered across those thoughts. Squeezing her eyes tight, Irmina tried to shove them from her mind. They receded to a buzz but did not completely disappear.
Irmina opened her eyes and studied the Exalted. Brows wrinkled, lips pursed, Buneri waved his hand occasionally as he strived to make some point or another. Of them all, his expression said he was the least concerned. For the most part, Malinda simply nodded. Ordelia and Leukisa seemed to agree on whatever they argued. Verturi made periodic objections. Finally, they appeared to reach a common decision, and all gazes turned to her.
“There’s a way for you to redeem yourself, Raijin Irmina. We know where they fled. We shall send you with a contingent of Pathfinders and High Shin to capture them.”
Chapter 29
Eyes burning, shoulders so sore she could barely lift an arm, Galiana monitored her two patients from where she sat on a slab of rock. The campfire crackled and danced like a spirit of flame, throwing shadows across Ancel’s and Ryne’s features. Periodically, she fed the two men a kinai potion enhanced with sweet fleshberries to help with the mending process. Both their faces appeared serene as if in some pleasant dream state. Their chests rose and fell evenly. At one point, Ryne had taken several sharp, indrawn breaths. Beyond that, both were healing fine.
Pinpricks of dawn inched through the cave’s yawning mouth. The interior smelled of horse, smoke, and unwashed bodies coupled with a daggerpaw’s musky stench. Over in a corner near a small spring, their mounts stood with their heads down. Charra sat next to Ancel, golden eyes aglow even more so with the fire. Poking a branch into the flames, Mirza studied his friend. Whenever he glanced her way, he scowled. She shook her head.
“I would not do anything to harm them,” she said. “I understand your dislike for us, for any Ashishin, but I raised you, young man. You have known me long enough to realize I am nothing like those who took your mother. Keep this up and I will set you on my leg and paddle your ass like the child you’re acting.”
Mirza’s expression became defiant. His eyes were beads.
“If you hate us so much, why choose to become a Dagodin?” She needed to find some way through his stubbornness. He was as mule-headed as his father, Devan.
“What choice did I have with what we face?”
She nodded. “True, but I sense there’s more to your decision.” Despite her proximity to the campfire, the thoughts of what she witnessed the night before sent chills through her body. Shadelings, daemons, vasumbrals, and netherlings. Knowing there would be worse to come did not help. All the while the world was mired in petty squabbles. She hoped Jerem was faring better than her with their other plans. Huddling into her cloak, she resisted the urge to shiver.
“When the Pathfinders came I didn’t know why they were there or who they were.” Mirza tossed little bits of wood into the fire. “I got all excited about the hounds they had with them. I thought they were Dagodin like Father used to be. I couldn’t understand why Father seemed so afraid.” He shook his head. “After Father told me the Pathfinders took Mother, I promised myself that I’d never let your kind hurt someone
else close to me. For that, I needed to grow stronger.”
She understood. The idea brought a smile to her face. “At the same time, you intended to discover any weakness an Ashishin might possess. After all, since you Dagodin cannot Forge, how would you hope to defeat such as I?”
Mirza’s eyes narrowed and the stick stopped moving.
“You have every reason to be upset when it comes to the Tribunal’s actions, but your mother left the Pathfinders no choice,” she added.
The stick broke.
“You hate hearing it, but that does not change the truth. I have taught you long enough for you to understand what happened with her.”
“How do I know any of your teachings weren’t another set of lies?” Mirza’s voice was low in his throat.
“Have I lied to you before?”
“Have you? I’m not as stupid as some think. I know how the Tribunal twists reports to their benefit, even going so far as to use the Devout to spread the ‘truths’ they want told. I have seen some of my mother’s old books. They are different to the versions we were given in some classes.”
Galiana pursed her lips. Mirza liked to read, but he always appeared slower than most in class. She smiled inwardly. To keep so much to himself and yet play the role he did was a noteworthy accomplishment. Wisdom in the disguise of foolishness. The boy she’d known had changed much since Randane and even more so since Stefan gave him the Disciplines. “To answer you, no, nothing I taught was a lie. I can tell you this: Pray you never feel the suffering a Matus who can Forge experiences when they go mad.”
Mirza glanced over to Ancel, his expression softening. “Will he …”
“If he uses his power with the necessary caution, he can hold it off for a long time, maybe as long as I have. Living as we do is a nightmare, but we do what we must.”
“There has to be a way to stop it altogether.” Mirza looked up to her pleadingly.
She shook her head. “For us, there is no if, only when.” She refused to coddle him. When any Forger succumbed to the madness, the elements became more volatile. The destruction left in their wake tore at the fabric of the world itself.