Aegis of The Gods: Book 02 - Ashes and Blood

by Terry C. Simpson

  Ancel’s sword had almost been their undoing. It held power, Etchings to be exact—a requirement to weaken the seals and release Prima—but it was also a locator. One he’d relied on in hopes of finding a person who could wield the weapon when he believed the Dorns were dead. If not for Jenoah Amelie, or Galiana as she now called herself, he would have lost this battle long ago. She created replicas of the weapon through the Imbuers. When the one link to the sword changed into several hundred thousand, spread all across Denestia, he and Sakari stopped searching. Thank the gods for her plan. Otherwise, Ancel would not exist.

  A sigh escaped his lips at how close his brethren had come to defeat. The boy’s life meant they had a chance, even if it did not nullify the Nine’s or Amuni’s chances. Better a sliver of hope than none at all.

  Seven more Etchings for Ancel to hold the elements. At least if he were meant to possess them all. Three more to complete the Streams. Even now, he felt four of his brothers moving away from them. Somewhere far north, toward the Great Divide. In ways, it made sense. Prima would congregate at the prison, drawn to the Etchings Forged into the ruins within the Divide—the original Iluminus’ ruins.

  He abruptly sat up. What better place to wait for the Eztezians? Ancel’s release of Prima might not only be for the benefit of those powerful enough to wield it in the Nine’s or Amuni’s service, but also a trap. But set by whom? Which faction? He tempered the urge to rush off and warn the others. More than anyone else, Ancel needed him to finish his training, but he also needed the other Eztezians. Torn, Ryne couldn’t decide if it was worth the risk to try warn them or to help them. To pursue either endeavor required planning and resources that might be beyond him. Better that though than the alternative of Ancel having to travel into the Nether or to Antonjur.

  Ryne stood and attempted to gather his thoughts. He felt as if his mind had split into a hundred pieces, and the wind now rattling the window had swept them away. For the second time in recent memory, exhaustion crowded him, and unlike then, he hadn’t expended any effort to Forge. He gazed at the beds where Ancel and Mirza slept peacefully. So much rode on the young man’s shoulders, and there was no one to carry the weight for him. Ryne knew the feeling. He’d carried the same burden for countless years.

  Not wanting to wake them, he picked up his sword belt from the bed and buckled it around his waist. At times like these, he missed Damal and the others. At least there would have been someone to talk to, a person who could relate. Now, all he had was loneliness.

  ‘The life we lead are not ones any sane man would envy. The same way order balances chaos, responsibility balances power.’ Damal’s words echoed in his head. Maybe that’s why we are destined to go mad, brother. Maybe that’s why our brothers are walking into an obvious trap. A chance to end it all after too many years languishing, struggling against the inevitable, against enemies from all sides. At the door, he paused to look back at Ancel and Mirza once again. They deserved more. The world deserved better.

  When he left by the Stoneman’s upper entrance, he made his way toward the bridges. The wind swirled, bringing with it a chill and fresh air, while the sun’s rays coated the mountains and plateaus in golden swathes, yet its warmth didn’t reach the town. The few people on the streets hurried by, bundled up in furs and leathers, heads covered by their hooded cloaks. Those who noticed him gave a wide berth. Several wore leather armor in the Tribunal’s familiar crimson.

  He stopped at the middle of one of the spans. Mists gathered below him, obscuring the other bridges with its inkiness. The folk traveling along them disappeared in its spirals like fleeting spirits. With the fog, the canyon walls spanned down into a void that appeared endless.

  The yawning chasm below reminded him of the years spent mired in war. One war after the other. Not mere battles but conflicts that sometimes spanned centuries as well as several countries. Kingdoms rose, lived, and died, some to live again, others to remain dead. Great cities lay in ruins, their secrets, their people perishing with them. If he could count the dead, he was certain they numbered in the tens of millions. And even now, there was no end in sight.

  The history of his many lives poured forth, and with it came bleakness. The memories settled on him as Nerian, and then Ryne before he regained his stolen consciousness. His heart ached. Someday he would have to kill Ryne Waldron and once again become Thanairen Adelfried. Today wasn’t that day.

  Footsteps stopped next to him as a gust delivered scented soap. “When I see a man gazing over the edge of a precipice, I often wonder where his thoughts are.” Galiana’s voice sounded almost as weary as he felt.

  “His thoughts ask if it was worth it. All the suffering, the pain, the struggles through the years. If he can manage to see it all to an end.”

  “What conclusions has such a man come to?”

  “He doesn’t know yet.” Ryne watched as his breath spiraled up from his mouth. “He’s done a lot of good and bad. Sometimes he thinks he’s done more bad than good. But there’s always been a purpose when his actions were his own. Now, he wonders if he is too late. If his years spent hiding, in denial of his power, of his responsibility, cost those he holds dearest. His own people.”

  “Doesn’t his admission of his faults show his humility?”

  Ryne sunk into himself. “Maybe, but the people need someone who will stand strong, undaunted in the face of what is to come.”

  “Thanarien,” Galiana’s voice grew soft, “you have shown more strength than an army of thousands. Your perseverance has withstood the test of time.”

  “And yet still I might fail.”

  “Demand perseverance but first show determination. Demand pride after you show humility. Demand they overcome after you prevail.” She repeated each quote with a distinct air of belief. “I am surprised you forgot some of your brother’s foremost teachings.”

  The words sparked memories, and as simple they were, he knew the truth within each. He’d lived the Disciplines all his life. “I have not forgotten, but there is only one of me. We face a battle with Ancel still unprepared. In Ilumni’s name, the entire world is unprepared. Whenever I receive news, it seems as if our enemies are ten steps ahead of me. My own brothers hate me. Even now, I sense them heading to probable doom. As much as I want to warn them, my duty lies here with him.” He faced her. “Have you ever had a wish to be able to split yourself in multiple parts?” She nodded. “Well that is how I feel right now. I am powerful and yet still powerless.”

  “Frustrating isn’t it?” Despite her long leather cloak, the bottom of Galiana’s white dress billowed in the breeze.

  “Too much so.”

  “Tell me,” Galiana looked up to meet his gaze, “why would your fellow Eztezians hate you?”

  Ryne paused as he considered not answering. Finally, he took a breath. “When we created the Great Divide, it served three purposes. To imprison the shadelings, trap our power within it, and seal the other Eztezians. We agreed that whichever among us was the most lucid would be the one to complete that last task. I was the youngest so it fell to me. Later, as Nerian, under control of Voliny’s master, I broke their seals and released our power back into the world before the Shadowbearer War. My weakness is the reason we face what we do. Now, they return to that fount of power, and I’m sure our enemies await them.” He’d expected some sense of shock from her.

  Instead, the tightness around Galiana’s eyes and lips eased into tenderness. “You are so much like your brother. You place the world on your shoulders. A world that the Annendin created pantheons to manage its survival. Yet, you feel you should be able to do what they could not. These aren’t humans we face, Thanarien, but netherlings who managed to defeat the gods with their schemes, even if it is only a momentary victory in the scope of time. On the other hand, in the Skadwaz, we face a god’s creations who are at least as powerful as you.”

  “And here I tho
ught your intention was to make me feel better.”

  Galiana smiled. “I am giving you some perspective that you seem to have lost. It will take a combined effort from all of us, the people included, as well as whatever else we can draw to our side.”

  And still we may face defeat.

  “Things may look impossible, but believing there is a way is better than the alternative.”

  He sighed. “In many ways I wish the gods would free themselves already, and either declare their retribution or their protection. At the rate events are moving, no path exists where they aren’t freed.”

  “I will tell you honestly,” Galiana said, “I never thought there to be any other way. You and I both know some things are beyond the hands of men. We play our part. That is all we can do.”

  “Hoping it will be enough has become drearier over the centuries. Regardless of what we do now, not much is left besides ashes. Ashes and blood.”

  “And hope. Remember you mentioned that first. All these years and never once did you give up. So why now? Why when you appear to have one of the most powerful Eztezians since Damal?”

  Weariness dragged on Ryne, heavier than the sword at his hip, more persistent than the mists clinging below. “If this were a thousand years ago, and he had time to learn every nuance of his skills, maybe. But as you pointed out, we need everyone. To know four of them may die before the day of reckoning comes leaves much to be desired.”

  “If fate had not proved to be nonexistent thing, I would say it was meant to be.” Galiana looked directly into his eyes, her expression solemn. “What if there might be a way to reach your brothers?”

  Ryne perked up at the suggestion, but he had an inkling of what she might suggest. “With the presence of the vasumbrals, as well as the Pathfinders, Materialization is a terrible idea. Not to mention that one cannot Materialize from one side of the Vallum to the next.”

  “Which is why I did not mention it.”

  “Then how?”

  “The Elder Assembly woke the zyphyls.”

  Ryne made to speak then stopped and began to pace. Mind whirling, he considered the possibilities. He froze in mid-step. “Galiana, when did they wake them?”

  “At least a year ago.”

  “Who did?”

  “My source only said the order came from the Elder Assembly. Why?”

  “Did you ever discover how the shadelings managed to breach the Vallum?”

  From Galaina’s hiss, he could tell she understood.

  “Oh no, oh, oh, no,” she whispered.

  Chapter 40

  “We should have gone down to the common room.” Mirza took another sip from his mug. All that remained on his plate was a sizable flatbread. “It’s a good way to start the morning, admiring the Stoneman’s girls.”

  “I’d expect that from Danvir, not you.” At the room’s large mahogany table, Ancel licked sauce from his fingers, savoring the tangy flavor and scent of boiled eggs mixed with creamy, diced potatoes.

  A bone cracked where Charra was worrying at a haunch almost devoid of meat. Golden lances of sunlight shone through the slits in the half-open shutters and space in the curtains, illuminating the marble floors. Wood in the hearth crackled, but the fresh air eased the room’s heat.

  “What do you mean?” Mirza asked.

  “It isn’t such a smart idea.” Ancel was doing his best to be modest.

  Mirza paused with the mug to his lips and glanced at him askance.

  “Think on it, as you and Dan like to say. The trackers and Pathfinders were already here. If we go into the common room, it’s likely that someone will put faces to names as Ewald did. All it will take is one eagle, and they’re back here again.”

  Mirza offered a half-hearted grumble before he sipped his tea again. The old Mirza would have spoken his mind regardless.

  “You know, you’ve been acting strange ever since the Entosis.” Ancel stared directly at his friend hoping Mirza would meet his gaze.

  “What makes you say that?” Mirza avoided looking his way.

  “We grew up together, Mirz. I know you as well as I know myself.”

  “That’s debatable.”

  Ancel smiled. The quip was a little of the Mirza he enjoyed being around. “Anyway, as I was saying, you’ve been acting strangely toward me. Every conversation with you feels like I’m pulling teeth. You act as if you can’t joke with me anymore. Some days when I catch you looking at me, it’s as if you’re seeing someone else.”

  Silence stretched between them broken by the crunching of bones. The clang of smiths at work and the buzz of a busy town awaking floated upon a breeze that rattled the shutters and whispered its secrets to the curtains whose fabric swished an answer.

  Mirza let out a protracted breath, his chest sinking in as he shook his head. Finally, his and Ancel’s eyes made four. “Since the … that place, I do see someone else.”

  “I’m me, Mirz, the same Ancel you’ve always known.”

  “Are you?”

  “Well … yes … just a bit stronger.”

  A smile creased Mirza’s lips. “See, that’s another thing. Somewhere since all this happened, you learned to be humble. Just a bit stronger.” He shook his head again and made a sound in the back of his throat. “We walked into a place in the middle of winter, and inside, it was summer. There were creatures I have dreamed of and others I never knew existed.

  “Ancel, you flung fire and lightning, created shields from the earth, and moved faster than humanly possible. I think the only thing I didn’t see you do was shoot lightning out your ass. Although you got trashed most of the times, there was the odd moment or two where you held your own against some giant that taught you. Wait. No. Not just a giant. According to Galiana, the spirit of an Eztezian.

  “You summoned a creature I can’t begin to describe. Something we would have read about in books or our mothers would have told stories about. And you walk and talk as if it’s nothing. So does Ryne and Galiana.” He pointed at Ancel’s right arm. “You have enough of those now to rival Ryne.” His eyes shifted to Charra. “Not even he’s normal. So tell me how you expected me to act. Seriously. You know what? Let me ask now, before I lose my nerve. Exactly what in Ilumni’s name are you?”

  Ancel felt his eyebrows bolt up his forehead. His friend’s words were a little more than he’d bargained for. “I’m an Eztezian.” For the first time, as if saying the words had some added impact, he believed.

  “So you’re a god.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Mirz, Eztezians aren’t gods.”

  “Might as well be. All things considered though, I’m handling this pretty well. Danvir probably would have bawled like he did back in Randane.”

  Ancel couldn’t help but chuckle. For whatever reason, Mirza appeared more relieved than anything with his admission. “Now that you know, can you please stop acting as if I’m going to eat you?”

  “I’d taste disgusting anyway, but I’ll think about it.”

  The crunching of bones stopped. Massive head raised, Charra glanced toward the door before he returned to his meal.

  “It’s Ryne,” Ancel said to Mirza’s unspoken question.

  As he finished the words, Ryne, with Galiana close on his heels, pushed open the door and entered. His expression was grim. Galiana’s face was a reflection of his.

  Ancel shoved his plate away. “What is it?”

  “Trouble.” Galiana shuffled toward the window and pulled the curtains closed.

  Mirza groaned. “Just when I was beginning to relax.”

  “We need to leave right away,” Ryne said.

  “What about supplies?” Ancel asked.

  “No time. The zyphyls are awake.”

  “And that means …?”

  “This is
the second time I heard you mention a zyphyl,” Mirza said. “And we have no clue what they are.”

  “You tell them.” Ryne inclined his head toward Galiana. “You two get dressed while she talks.”

  Galiana took a seat at the edge of a bed. “During the Shadowbearer War, we faced a crisis. The Travelshafts, which we used for fast transport between all major cities, were not only being raided by the Svenzar, but were used by the shade’s armies as well.”

  “Why didn’t you close them?” Mirza was pulling on a new set of wool trousers the serving girl had delivered with the food.

  “We did not know how. The Svenzar built them, and they never shared their secrets. So, we had to decide on a solution. Upon construction, one of the original issues with the Travelshafts was that they could not be used to traverse large bodies of water like the sea. It was something to do with the shafts being of the Forms, and therefore in direct opposition to the Flows. Anyway, one of The Custodians within the Iluminus’ Great Library found a solution in one of the Chronicles: a creature balanced between the essences and elements. It was more myth than anything, but so many of the Chronicles proved true, how could we not follow this one?”

  “You were desperate,” Mirza said with a snort.

  Galiana glared at him. “Several expeditions ventured into Everland’s northernmost wastes as suggested, and there we found the zyphyls by the hundreds. Afterward, we placed one at the doorways to the shafts connecting Felan Mark with Damal’s Landing, making it possible to cross the Sea of Swirls without a ship. We then added more zyphyls to a few cities farther inland in both Ostania and Granadia.

  “As the Shadowbearer War progressed, we realized we needed to prevent travel between the continents should Nerian’s armies breach the Vallum. However, the zyphyls were quite volatile and their use had other side effects, which later led us to abandon them. We experimented with putting them to sleep. They still worked as intended. At the same time, we discovered shadelings had used several shafts in cities they captured to cross the Vallum of Light.”