by James Erich
This, he knew instantly, was the Iinu Shaa.
Koreh didn’t need to be told to bow. The man—or was he a god?—exuded such an aura of power that Koreh instantly dropped to his knees and inclined his head. He was not precisely frightened, but he knew instinctively he was in the presence of a power greater than anything he’d ever conceived of—a being who could kill Koreh with a wave of his hand.
The figure standing in the middle of the downpour—for Koreh himself was still kneeling upon dry leaves—did not speak, but the Taaweh surrounding the clearing whispered in unison, “Come, iinyeh Koreh. It is wished that you shall see.”
Was that the Taaweh talking, or was the Iinu Shaa somehow using their voices? Koreh lifted his head to find the Iinu Shaa gesturing for him to come closer. Koreh stood and walked toward him.
To his surprise, even though he walked through the wall of rain, Koreh didn’t get wet. It wasn’t so much that the rain separated to let him through as the individual drops somehow missed hitting him. He also noticed, now that he was in the midst of it, the rain was not only falling down, but up as well. Drops seemed to jump out of the puddles on the forest floor and leap straight up toward the sky.
As he approached the Iinu Shaa, the man gestured again and the storm grew stronger, so that Koreh could barely see the Taaweh on the other side of the downpour. The man turned away from him, but to Koreh’s horror, there was no back to his head. Where the back of his helmet should have been, the Iinu Shaa had another face with dark blue-black skin like that of a corpse. Its mouth was locked in a grimace, teeth bared and elongated because the gums had shriveled and withdrawn.
May the Face of Fear look upon him.
The hollow eye sockets were black and so infinitely deep that Koreh felt he was looking into a bottomless abyss. He had to look away.
The Iinu Shaa raised his hands and the rain grew stronger, so that Koreh was no longer able to see the Taaweh at all. Instead images began to flit across the wall of water, surrounding him and the Iinu Shaa on all sides.
Koreh saw the Great War—saw and somehow understood more than mere images could convey how the humans in these lands had once worshipped the Taaweh. The Taaweh had watched over them, assuring the growth of their crops and the fertility of their livestock; guiding them from birth through adulthood; guiding them into the Great Mist when their life left them.
Then the Stronni came and sought to wrest the land from the control of the Taaweh. The war raged for century upon century, laying waste to the land from the mountains to the ocean in the west and the ancient forests in the south. The human population was devastated until only small numbers remained, scattered and isolated from one another, no trace of their great civilization remaining.
The Taaweh had lost their greatest city and retreated to the southern forests, but it was the destruction of the land and the near-extinction of the men who had once worshipped them that grieved the Taaweh most of all. The Iinu Shavi had sought to establish a truce with the Stronni in a bid to save the few humans who were left.
But she was met with treachery. And after her capture, the Stronni tried to destroy her. But this proved impossible. Even unconscious, her body was impervious to fire and blade. The Stronni knew they could never allow her to touch the earth, or she would awaken. So they suspended the hall high above a chasm, where none of the Taaweh would be able to reach it. And there she remained, seemingly lifeless, for a thousand years, while the Taaweh retreated and vanished into history.
For the Taaweh, who could not die, a thousand years was not long. They waited and watched from the shadows while the land healed and the forests re-grew and mankind all but forgot about them and turned to worshipping the Stronni. But the Taaweh did not forget. They remembered the forests as they once were and the civilization of mankind as it had been. And they remembered the Iinu Shavi, still held prisoner all these centuries.
And they plotted their return.
The images faded as the downpour eased back to a light rain. Koreh blinked, feeling as though he were coming out of a trance.
The Iinu Shaa turned to face him once again with the pale face, whose visage was… not exactly comforting, but at least less frightening. Koreh heard the Taaweh around them whisper, “The time for the Iinu Shavi to awaken is nearing, and the war will begin again. The devastation will be great.”
Koreh felt chilled by these words. If the war between the Taaweh and the Stronni was to begin again, it could mean the end of all the men and women who lived in these lands. It had nearly wiped them out the first time. Suddenly the prospect of a battle between the emperor and the vek seemed almost insignificant.
“Iinu Shaa,” he asked, wanting to call the man “lord” or “majesty” but knowing there was no need. “Iinu Shaa” meant those things and much more. “Why have you shown me this?”
“Iinyeh Koreh,” the Taaweh whispered. “You will be of great use to the Taaweh—you and your tyeh-iinyeh. Very soon.”
Koreh looked at him in surprise. “How will I be of use to you?”
“That is not to be discussed, at this time. It is to be discussed how the Taaweh may be of use to you.”
Chapter 25
FOR the third time in just a few days, Sael awoke to find himself cradled in Koreh’s arms. It felt good. And this morning, he felt no need to restrain himself when his morning erection asserted itself. He reached back to run a hand along Koreh’s smooth, naked hip and then rolled over to burrow into the warmth of Koreh’s embrace, lowering a hand to slip between his legs.
Koreh sighed and stretched and said, with his eyes still closed, “Not until you say you love me again.”
“I love you,” Sael replied, nuzzling his neck. “I adore you.”
He soon found himself embroiled in a passionate wrestling match that left them both spent.
Diven knocked while they were catching their breath, lying in a tangle of bedsheets, dripping with sweat and smelling of sex. They scrambled frantically to cover themselves before admitting the servant.
Once again, the man showed no reaction to the fact that they were in bed together. Sael was unconcerned, apart from making certain they were both covered from the waist down. No doubt the servant had seen his fill of… antics… in the keep. Servants had been helping Sael dress and bathe his entire life, including during the time he spent at the Academy in gü-Khemed, so being naked around them didn’t seem quite the same as being naked around… well, other people.
Diven brought them breakfast and lit a candle on the table, for the room was still quite dark with the curtains drawn, even during the day. After drawing hot water for their bath, the old man left.
Sael slipped out of the sheets and padded naked across the room to the table.
“Father wants me to attend war counsels all day,” he said, putting some of the pheasant sausage and fresh bread on a plate to bring back to bed with him. “The emperor’s army will be here by tomorrow morning, we expect. Will you be helping out in the courtyard again?”
Koreh shrugged. “I suppose so.”
Something was obviously bothering him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I didn’t sleep very well.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “And… I was visited last night. By the Taaweh.”
Sael felt a flash of panic. “The Taaweh? They came here? Into the room?”
“Yes.”
“They simply walked past the guards? Or did they climb the walls?” He hated the fact that his voice was shaking. But the thought of someone entering his room while he slept had terrifying implications now.
“They move in the shadows,” Koreh replied, growing irritated. “They can go anywhere the shadows go. But stop panicking and listen to me. They weren’t here to assassinate you. They wanted to talk to me.”
“About what?”
“I can’t say just yet,” Koreh replied and then added quickly, when Sael frowned, “Something’s going to happen. Soon. But they need to move cautiously. And I need you to promise me som
ething.”
“What?”
Koreh stood and moved closer to him, reaching out for his free hand. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t just say it. I need you to be sure.”
Sael thought about it for a moment. He knew Koreh could be rash and sometimes a bit childish. But he always seemed to come through, and whenever Sael looked into those beautiful blue eyes, he felt as if he could see past all the bravado and churlishness, and what he saw was good and kind and loyal. “I trust you. Absolutely.”
Koreh smiled, though it seemed a bit… distant. “I need you to remember that.”
Sael climbed back onto the bed, trying not to tip the greasy sausages off the plate.
“Will you join me for dinner? Tonight, I mean.”
He was trying to sound casual, but he could tell Koreh saw through that immediately. Waiting for Koreh last night had been awful, and Sael hoped to avoid that tonight. After all, weren’t they… well, bonded somehow?
Koreh gave him a distracted smile and said, “All right.”
AFTER they ate, Koreh allowed Sael to bathe first. Then Sael insisted upon draining the water into a pipe built into the floor and refilling the tub from the spigot. Koreh had learned there was a water tank on one of the upper levels. A windmill on the roof of the keep pumped water into the tank from one of Harleh’s many underground springs. Before daybreak every morning, a servant lit a fire underneath the tank. Hot water could then be brought down by pipes to the rooms of some of the nobles, or brought down by buckets to other rooms.
Koreh felt this was all extremely indulgent, but he wasn’t above enjoying a soak in the hot water. Twice a day might be a bit much, but if it got Sael to take his clothes off, Koreh was in favor of it.
After he dressed, Sael gave Koreh a quick good-bye kiss and then left to attend one of the interminable council meetings being held by the vek. Koreh settled down to soak for a while, having no great desire to hurry to the backbreaking labor that awaited him in the courtyard.
If he was going back to the courtyard, that is. The Iinu Shaa had been vague about exactly when their plan would go into effect.
As he soaked in the hot water, Koreh closed his eyes and thought about what he’d seen. The Iinu Shaa’s twin faces put him in mind of Neesha and the Face of Peace and the Face of Fear. It was possible the name “Neesha” was a distorted version of “Iinu Shaa.” Also, the images Koreh had seen in the rain had informed him the Taaweh guided men and women into the tyeh-areh—the Great Mist—when they died. Was the Iinu Shaa a harbinger of death?
After a short time, there was a knock on the door. There was a silk screen decorated with a white and pale-green floral pattern set up between the tub and the door, so Koreh was unable to see who entered. He stood to peer over the screen and found Diven and the vek standing in the open doorway.
Koreh was tempted to comment on the fact that everyone in the castle seemed determined to watch him bathe, but he was in no position to start a quarrel with Sael’s father.
“You will please get dressed,” Worlen said calmly. “I wish to have a word with you.” He turned to the servant. “You may leave us, Diven. Thank you.”
Diven bowed and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Worlen took a seat at the table, allowing Koreh to dry himself and dress in privacy behind the screen.
When Koreh emerged, the vek was counting katik out in two piles on the table, drawn from his purse. The man looked up as Koreh approached.
“Koreh, is it?”
Koreh didn’t want to bow, but something in the man compelled him to make an awkward half-bow with his head and shoulders, nonetheless. “Yes, sir.”
“Your Grace.” When Koreh looked puzzled, Worlen added, “It is customary for someone of my station to be addressed as ‘Your Grace’.”
There was nothing hostile in his tone. He was merely stating a fact. And almost without realizing what he was doing, Koreh heard himself say, “Your Grace.”
Worlen nodded in acknowledgement. “Koreh, you have demonstrated great skill and bravery in escorting the dekan and his mentor to Harleh. I am most grateful. And I wish to offer you a small reward for your efforts.”
He pushed one of the piles of katik forward. Koreh stared at it openmouthed. It was more gold than he’d ever seen in his life. He estimated it would be enough to rent a small cottage for forty or fifty years.
The vek saw his expression and a wry smile crept onto his face. “You find this satisfactory?”
Koreh closed his mouth. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“I’m glad.”
His hand moved to the other pile of coins, the same size as the first, and slid it forward as well.
“This,” Worlen stated, looking Koreh directly in the eye, “is to persuade you to leave Harleh after the battle and never return.”
Koreh had been expecting it. But it still angered him, and he had a hard time keeping his tone respectful when he said, “Sael doesn’t want me to leave, Your Grace.”
“You will refer to him as ‘the dekan’,” Worlen replied coolly, “or as ‘His Lordship’. And he now has responsibilities that must override his desires.”
When Koreh didn’t respond to that, Worlen continued, “Please understand. This is not at all personal. If you remain in Harleh, it is inevitable that you and Sael will continue your relationship. Were Seffni still alive, I would not be… overly concerned. But Sael is now the last of my line, and that is a different matter entirely.”
“And what if I choose not to leave?” Koreh asked curtly, his pretense at good manners fading. But Worlen merely stared at him in stony silence until Koreh added, “Your Grace?”
“I can easily have you arrested and transported to the dungeon at Worlen. Sael will never know that you did not simply run away from the impending battle. Or perhaps he’ll think you were killed. One of the unidentified dead.
“You are a brave and honorable young man,” he went on when the temper flared in Koreh’s eyes. “I would rather Sael remember you as such, and not as the coward who abandoned him. But I warn you—I don’t make idle threats. One way or another, I will make certain that you and Sael never see each other again.”
Koreh no longer trusted himself to speak. He simply glared at the vek until Worlen stood and refastened his purse to his belt.
“We have a day or two still before the emperor’s army reaches the city. That should give you time to think matters over.” When Koreh didn’t respond, Worlen said, “You may bow.”
Seething, Koreh obeyed.
Worlen nodded to him and walked out of the room, leaving Koreh staring at the two piles of gold coins on the table. He wanted to throw them at the closed door or out the window.
It was then that he heard a faint sound coming from the shadows. He whirled to face it, acutely aware that his dagger was out of reach on the bedside table. If this was one of the emperor’s assassins, Koreh would have to escape rather than try to defend himself. He braced himself to drop through the floor.
But it wasn’t an assassin.
His enhanced vision showed him one of the Taaweh in the corner of the room, near the bed, dressed in the familiar dark-hooded cloak. The man extended a hand to him.
“It is time.”
SAEL glanced around the council chamber uneasily. He’d never known his father to be late for anything before. Had he run into trouble? Assassins? Sael hated how paranoid he’d become, but the simple fact of the matter was, the emperor was trying to kill him and his father. Everything out of the ordinary now seemed ominous.
He sat on a raised dais opposite the massive double doors that led into the chamber. His seat was to one side of the throne and Geilin was on his left. Under normal circumstances, Sael would occupy the throne as Dekan of Harleh, but today it was reserved for Vek Worlen.
The chamber was dark, illuminated only by tallow candles in metal candelabras affixed to the walls. All the windows were shuttered and curtained to prevent the empero
r’s ömem from witnessing the proceedings. The ömem of Harleh and Worlen sat on another raised platform on the left side of the room, eighteen women still and silent in their deep-blue robes and veils. Worlen would have preferred to keep them out of the chamber entirely, but he was forced to rely on their dubious sense of honor to keep the meeting from the emperor, or risk offending the Sisterhood and lose all assistance they could provide in the coming battle, as well as afterward.
All the other seats in the room were taken up by the heads of several noble families in Harleh and a number of top-ranking military commanders.
Sael had an uneasy feeling, though he couldn’t put his finger on why. But before he could comment on this to Master Geilin, the vek appeared, trailed by Meik and Sidmot. The ömem did not rise, but all the men in the room rose from their benches and bowed as Worlen strode through their midst and climbed the stone steps to take the throne.
When Meik and Sidmot had taken their seats on the vek’s left, Worlen announced, “The emperor’s army, according to our ömem, is less than a day away.”
There was a murmur throughout the room and the vek raised his voice to talk above it. “This should come as no surprise to anyone in this room.”
Worlen swept the crowd with a fierce look as the room fell silent once again.
“By the time the army arrives, we will have enough supplies in our stores to endure a siege of perhaps a few months. This will be to our advantage. But we are still vastly outnumbered. And though the odds of our survival may not be completely disastrous, the odds of a victory are slim. This was the emperor’s intent—not to win, but to halt our advance. He is degenerate and corrupt, but he is not stupid. With this attack, he has broken the fragile alliances we forged with the other cities in the veikit. They’ve abandoned us, for the time being, awaiting the outcome of this battle. If the emperor forces our army to retreat within Harleh’s walls, he will have beaten us in every way that matters.”
