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.
“Some days I wish I could make all this go away,” Ancel said. “The worry, the pain, the anger, the uncertainty, the war, the death to come … the betrayal.” Kachien’s involvement in what was happening cut deep, even if he found it hard to believe. The visions within the zyphyl had shown him other possibilities. Ones that confirmed his suspicions about the way the wolves acted back in Eldanhill. “I wish I could make it all go away.”
Ryne remained silent.
“If wishes had wings,” Ancel said to himself. Cohorts formed ranks on a wide avenue, enough to be at least one full legion, their weapon and armor reflecting the morning sun. He took a deep breath. Alys’ perfume still tickled his nose. “Do you think we have enough to accomplish our plan? And will the others,” he pointed out the window to those already fleeing the city, “the rest of them be safe from any retaliation?”
“I cannot reassure you that anyone will be safe. They are making a choice they have to live with.” Ryne paused. “As for our forces, Kendin and some of his Sven will accompany you. The Dosteri refuse to let you go without several of their cohorts. And apparently, while you were training in the Entosis, the remainder of the mountain clans, both Nema and Seifer made their way here. Half of them demanded to be a part of that battle. The other will fight at the Iluminus.”
Frowning, Ancel faced Ryne. “Why?”
“I noticed it when I first arrived in Eldanhill. Many of the Dosteri, the Nema, and the Seifer are of the same bloodline. They were originally Erastonians.”
“From Everland?”
“The same. It is because of your father’s actions that they still live. If not for the preparations he made right before the Shadowbearer War, the Dosteri as we know them would not exist today. They owe him a life debt they say. It extends to all his immediate family. They feel they owe him even more now with some of their people’s betrayal.”
A memory sparked within Ancel’s mind like a lamp blinking on at dusk. He recalled the entire passage from the Chronicle of Undeath, of the Dosteri’s rise and the essences. “So it seems one of your Chronicles is true.” If indeed it referred to him, then he still lacked fire, ice, and shade. That last brought apprehension creeping through his body.
“Unfortunately, yes.” The big man’s features saddened. “Do you know why I named it Undeath?”
“After the zyphyl, I think I do. I saw what happens when daemons harvest sela. The zyphyl showed me what will become of the people in Randane. Not just the ones from Eldanhill, but everyone not aligned to the shade.”
“It’s the fate most of us will suffer if the shade wins out.”
“And the Nine?”
Ryne shrugged. “Who knows, but from what I have seen, it wouldn’t be much better. At least not for us. Slavery, used as cattle, or worse.”
Ancel didn’t want to imagine what could be worse than that already mentioned. “Are you certain you wouldn’t prefer to help me in Randane?”
“What I would rather do, and what I must do, are two different things. We all have a part to play. I believe you’re strong enough for this. Don’t doubt yourself. It’s a precursor to failure. Strike hard and fast.”
“Even if it means I must kill some of my own? Or someone I love?”
“Then so be it.” Ryne’s gaze was cold and unwavering. “People die so others may live. It is a harsh reality, but a reality nonetheless.”
As much as Ancel agreed, he couldn’t find the words to say so. He turned away from Ryne and gazed outside once more. “Have them bring the preparations to an end. We must attack before word of our exodus reaches anyone.”
Chapter 48
Irmina knew stealth would be of no use here. Even within the Iluminus’ dungeons, no shadow existed. Light radiated from the walls. Besides, she was a Raijin. What she needed to do was be herself. Dressed in the black, form-fitting uniform with crimson sleeves of her calling, she approached the dungeon guards w
ith an expression that screamed she’d gut anyone who stood in her path. So much so, that not only did they avert their eyes, but not one among them questioned her. The score of Dagodin following behind her marched in a rhythm to challenge the finest army.
These weren’t the deepest cells—those were reserved for the more violent offenders, those the Pathfinders had captured—but they still stunk of piss, shit, unwashed bodies, and blood. A hallway lined with metal doors stretched before her. Moans, groans, and muttering echoed along its length in odd counterpoint to her soft footsteps and the louder leather on stone thud of her Dagodin complement. The dissonance was a grim reminder of the impressive number of prisoners the Iluminus kept. As tempting as it was to free many for sheer chaos, she’d come here for a select few.
Although she knew the cells by memory, she stepped to each one she needed anyway, slid back the metal grate over the solitary window, and peered inside. Refusing to cringe at the stench, the half-healed wounds, yellowed and scabbing patches of skin, and disheveled, torn clothing on people she barely recognized anymore, she gave commands to remove each Eldanhill Council member.
Guthrie Bemelle was a sliver of his former self, clothes hanging loosely around what was once a barrel of a belly, his cheeks withdrawn, jawbones protruding. Devan Faber wasn’t much better, the mining foreman having lost the slabs of muscle that marked him. If Javed was old before, his current appearance leaned toward senile, the once robust kennel and stable owner now feeble, his skin drawn tight over his skull.
Irmina frowned at the next two cells. Of Edwin Valdeen and Rohan Lankon, she found no signs. An awful feeling gnawed at the pit of her stomach.
Stefan’s condition was by far the worse. She couldn’t help the involuntary hiss that escaped her lips. Jaw lopsided, his face wore a mask of purple and black. Scrawled across his back was a tapestry of cuts, welts, and scabs. Blood crusted his missing fingernails. The usually well-groomed gray hair was dirty and matted brown; his unkempt mustache and beard formed a bush. Not once did Ancel’s father raise his head when the two Dagodin entered and picked him up under his armpits. He didn’t even groan.
Aegis of The Gods: Book 02 - Ashes and Blood Page 34