“Why?” he asked, the words that followed flowing like stones out of his throat. “Why did you create us?”
“I created nothing. That power is beyond me, beyond anything in this universe. I merely . . . transformed.”
“Don’t avoid the question.”
“What kind of answer are you looking for?”
“The truth. All of it.”
“That may take some time.”
Draevenus shrugged. “There’s nowhere else I need to be.”
The darkwisps around the room fluttered, shimmering with shadows, and the air around the coffin seemed to constrict. For some reason, it made him think of a sigh.
“The easy answer would be to say that I took pity upon you. Seeing your plight, I knew I had the power to offer succor, a way to turn your fortunes around. While there is no falsehood in this statement, it does not encompass the full scope of my motivation.
“I made your tribe into what you are now because I needed a strong right arm to enact my will.”
“So we were tools after all.”
“Yes. But it was not I who ended up wielding you.”
Draevenus growled. “Rekaj.”
“Your third emperor was a shrewd and jealous man, and, unfortunately, clever enough to figure out how to sever the link I shared with all your people, hoarding all knowledge of my will to ensure his own stranglehold on dominance. That it also affected his own ability to contact me was unintended. I think, in the end, he came to regret it.”
“A pity you couldn’t have done anything to stop him.”
“Pity? Pity is reserved for the misguided, and there were none more so than Rekaj. None less so than your sister.”
Draevenus grunted. “I take it she was not kind to you during her visit?”
“Hardly. But I care little what is done to me. My only concerns are for the people of this world. For it was my own folly, so long ago, that set in motion events that are now coming to pass. I must make it right. I tried to impart upon Vashodia the importance of such a task, but I fear I have failed.”
“She’s not very good at taking orders.”
“No indeed. But now that you’re here, perhaps hope is not lost after all.”
Groaning with the seemingly monumental effort, Draevenus lurched to his feet. He leaned over the sarcophagus, feeling a burden settle on his shoulders that he was not ready to accept. “Please, don’t ask. I can’t be your champion in this. I’m a broken man, good at only one thing despite centuries I could have spent bettering myself. I’m not worthy of your trust.”
“There are none worthier for the task I have prepared for you. Devalue yourself not. I could love you no less even were you to fulfill your original purpose in coming here.”
“You’re so sure I’ve changed my mind?”
“No. I simply have faith.”
Draevenus let out a short laugh. The absolute absurdity of the situation demanded no less. This is not at all how I envisioned this encounter going.
“Tell me something,” Draevenus said.
“Yes?”
“Why do you even care what happens to this world?”
“To explain that would be to tell the tale of the ages. The recitation will not be over quickly.”
Draevenus turned and slid down, pressing his back against the smooth side of his god’s living tomb. The ground just around it was clean and dry, yet soft, a fact for which the assassin was grateful. He had a feeling his backside would become intimately familiar with it.
“Then tell me. Maybe afterward—if you’re lucky—I won’t still feel the need to kill you.”
Jasside wiped sweat from her brow, freeing her forehead from the hair matted across her face. They’d been tracking the Sceptrine army, having crossed the southern border into Fasheshe days ago. The trail was not hard to follow.
The remnants of the coalition forces retreated south, while Fasheshish horsemen harried Chase’s host every step of the way. Signs of their clashes, brief yet violent, marked a straight line across the country, a land that dried out and flattened more with every passing league. Both she and Vashodia wore only loose black dresses, having packed away their cloaks sometime ago. Jasside didn’t miss hers in the least.
“Those vultures are a good sign,” Vashodia said, pointing over the next hill. A flock thick as a storm cloud hovered on the horizon.
“Ah, yes,” Jasside replied. “Flying harbingers of death. How lovely.”
“You might actually think so if you stopped to ponder the implications of their presence.”
“We’ve been dashing nonstop for over a week now. Pardon me for my lack of preternatural insight.”
Vashodia sighed. “If I must spell it out for you then. Does Sceptre make it a practice to bury their dead?”
“Yes.”
“And Fasheshe?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then those vultures . . . ?”
“Aren’t feasting on our allies’ flesh.”
“See? Lovely indeed.”
Jasside scoffed. “Not the word I’d use to describe carrion ripping apart corpses with their beaks.”
“Then you show your lack of imagination once again.”
“At least I don’t mistake imagination for reality.”
“My dear apprentice, don’t you understand? There is no mistake when our will can recraft the world around us to our liking.”
“Just because we have the ability to do something doesn’t mean we should.”
“Why not?”
Jasside took a deep breath to calm herself before continuing. “Innocents always pay the price when the powerful fail to contemplate the repercussions of their actions. No matter what good you think you’re trying to do, some losses can never be justified.”
For a time, Vashodia remained silent. Jasside almost believed that the mierothi was actually considering her words. She supposed there might have been bigger miracles, just none she’d ever seen.
“Come,” her mistress said at last. “I do believe the chase is almost up.”
They shadow-dashed to the next hill and looked down upon the sight of slaughter. A single glance confirmed their suspicions. Jasside tried not to study the mass of bloody flesh and squawking feathers too closely. She’d witnessed the aftermath of enough battles to know she’d never grow used to the sight.
“Chase never stopped to engage these raiders the whole way down,” Vashodia said. “I wonder what changed?”
Jasside lifted her eyes over the carnage. “I think that might explain it.”
Across a flat expanse of brown only rarely broken by strangled shrubs and pillars of spinning dust, two great stains smeared the horizon. The space separating them seemed pitifully, dangerously slim.
The two armies, in the fullness of their force, were about to meet at last.
At this distance, and with no terrain barring her view, Jasside was able to estimate a count of their numbers. The result staggered her.
“Something troubling you, apprentice?”
Jasside licked lips rendered dry by harsh, incessant winds. “There are so many of them. Even the battle for Mecrithos, with both sides combined, had fewer than each army here. Bloodshed is coming on a scale this world has never seen and should never have to witness.”
“Well, then. I suppose we’ll have to put a stop to it, now won’t we?”
Jasside turned to question her mistress, but before she could, the mierothi vanished in a streak of darkness. With what seemed the last ember of her reserves, Jasside followed.
Sceptrine soldiers were already bowing to Vashodia by the time she arrived.
“Oh, enough with the honorifics,” Vashodia was saying. “Just tell me where the king is already.”
A guide volunteered from among the crowd, and their trek began.
>
Navigating the massive camp took nearly two tolls. The delay would have driven her mad if she hadn’t seen the reason for it. Chase kept his headquarters in constant motion, never settling down in one place for long to make it harder for enemy war engines to strike at his location. Even their guide had to ask around, changing directions more than once.
By the time they reached the royal tent—which looked no different than any other—Jasside didn’t even have the patience to protest when Vashodia flung the guards out of the way with a wave of power. They marched in without further challenge.
“What the bloody abyss are you doing?” said Vashodia.
Chase sat on a cot, oiling his sword. “Preparing for battle. Nice to see you, too, by the way.”
“It was folly to come here.”
“I appreciate all the help you’ve given me and my people, but that does not give you the right to dictate our fate.”
“We agreed that I would help you. Yet what’s the first thing you do once my back is turned? Throw all I have accomplished on your behalf to the wolves.”
Chase stood now, sword gripped tightly under white knuckles, a dangerous look in his eye. “We had our enemy on the run, and I, for one, would like to ensure they never return.”
“Oh, and I suppose it was your brilliant strategies that led to all your victories?”
“In part. Though I could not have done it without your assistance. If you think I seek to diminish the scope of your aid—”
“I know very well the depth of my aid. I hardly need the approval of a suckling king to know my worth. What I do need is for you to listen. Because I’ve weighed the impact of my actions against the capabilities of you and the coalition. Do you know what I found?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me whether I want to hear it or not.”
“Only a fool spurns the words of those wiser than himself. And you’re no fool. I’d have not let you take the crown otherwise.”
“Let me? How dare you!”
“Yes. I do dare. Because, king, the coalition forces left your land far too easily and quickly. You’ve led your army into a trap.”
Chase shook his head. “They’re well entrenched, but we have them outnumbered and have captured enough of their weapons to negate any advantage.”
“What about the war engines?” Jasside asked.
“That will soon no longer be a factor.”
Vashodia clenched her fists. “What have you done?”
“Our enemy thought that keeping those monstrosities to the rear of their position would keep them safe. They are too arrogant to think we’d have the courage or the skill to assault it from behind.”
“When is the attack to take place?”
“As we speak.”
“Then your soldiers are either dead or captured already.”
“You can’t possibly know that!”
“Yes, I can. Just as I know the reason for their doom. And soon, yours.”
“Which is?”
“Reinforcements, come up from the south.”
“Impossible. My scouts would have seen—”
“What? Dust clouds behind a marching army?”
“Yes.”
“That would help if they were all coming by land. But what if the bulk of them came in the night by air?”
Chase’s mouth dropped open. “No. No it can’t be. They never used their sky carriages in Sceptre.”
“For fear they might be captured, and your casters would be able to reverse-engineer their construction. But where are we, right now?”
“Fasheshe.”
“Indeed. And they have both the plan and the power to annihilate every last one of you. They’ve no fear of their little toys falling into the wrong hands.”
Chase slumped back onto his cot, the sword falling from limp fingers. “What have I done?”
Jasside now realized what she should have immediately. What the king’s strong reactions had been indicating all along.
“Daye,” Jasside said. “He’s leading the sneak attack.”
The king’s slight nod was almost unnecessary. “What can we do now?”
“Whatever you do,” Vashodia said, “do not attack.”
“We’ve come too far to retreat now.”
“Do your best to avoid engagement, at the least. You’ve been aggressive thus far, so if nothing else, the tactic will give them pause.”
“We will defend ourselves if necessary. I can promise nothing beyond that.”
Vashodia scowled but said nothing else as she spun on her heels.
“Where are we going?” Jasside asked.
“To keep all these fools from killing each other. We can’t afford any more deaths on either side. Every last body will be needed.”
“For what?”
Vashodia only shook her head. And Jasside couldn’t help but wonder what could be worse than the bloodshed about to take place.
Arivana felt guilty for enjoying the wind. After so long stuffed inside that wagon, though, the pleasure of fresh air and light seemed almost overwhelming. The deck of the sky carriage, converted to purposes of war, hummed beneath her, swaying mere paces above the crest of a dune. Her guilt stemmed from many places, it seemed. From the sight of all the fighting men and women arrayed across the dry land before her. From Flumere, broken of will and voice, chained up and bruised at her side. From accepting the grace of a man she’d once looked up to but now only despised.
“Look, Arivana,” Tior said, perched against the oiled-wood railing. “Look upon the realities of war.”
And so she did.
Even through the clouds of dust, she could easily make out ranks of the fabled Panisian war engines, lined up like the hedgerows in the royal gardens. And closer, climbing up a ridge behind them, a cluster of dark-clad soldiers.
Sceptrines.
It was, she realized, the first time she had actually set eyes on the people she’d declared an enemy. That the war was never truly her doing was little comfort. She’d gone along with it willingly for far too long. That she’d even sat among the councilors and encouraged it.
Such was inexcusable.
At a gesture from Tior, four smaller ships sprang forward. Arivana studied their decks, filled with wrath-bowmen by the scores and over a dozen robed casters. Had the Sceptrines been alerted to the threat ahead of time, it might have been an even match. As it was . . .
She turned her head away as the slaughter began.
“I think not, my queen,” Tior said. “If you wish an end to your ignorance, you must watch and watch closely. This is truth. I will never withhold it from you again.”
He gripped her chin with wrinkled fingers and began pulling. She resisted at first, mostly out of reflex, but soon gave up. She could hear the screams, smell the fire and blood. There was no use trying to salvage the innocence of her eyes.
To her surprise, the battle was far from over. Two of the ships burned on the ground, and the other two had landed to unload their troops. The Sceptrines must have had wrath-bows or sorcerers of their own. The fighting devolved into a close frenzy of flashing steel as the enemy soldiers counterattacked. No spells flew. Had they already killed all the casters?
She could not find it in herself to cheer on those combatants in Panisian uniforms. They were not her soldiers even though they were still her countrymen. That their true leaders worked through deception, and stood for no good thing, did not detract from their loyal, brave service. But that didn’t mean she wished ill of the Sceptrines. Not anymore.
Why can’t we all live in peace?
She knew immediately it was a stupid, childish thought and hated herself for even thinking it. As long as things like greed and domination were allowed to run rampant—to even be called virtues—there would always be those who didn’t know
the meaning of enough and would burn down the world just to have a little more. Too many people had died in service to vile callings already. As long as I draw breath, I will never stop fighting to end it.
Tior shifted at her side. His hand relaxed, and she quickly jerked her head out of his grasp. Not to look away, though. Instead, she glanced up, and saw a concerned look on his face, replacing the arrogant confidence from before. A more focused scan of the battle revealed why. The Sceptrines had nearly succeeded in driving back their attackers. She could make out a single swordsman cutting through Tior’s men like a whirlwind and his allies rallying everywhere he went. Unless something changed drastically in the next mark or so, Tior’s trap would fail.
“Ah,” Tior said, his grimace reversing, “so the message got through at last. It’s about time.”
Arivana followed his gaze. Upon the ridge that the Sceptrines had recently abandoned climbing, a fresh wave of Panisian soldiers appeared. Reinforcements from the artillery companies, no doubt. They aimed crossbows down the steep incline and began loosing bolts in perfunctory waves, cutting down the Sceptrines from behind.
The remaining enemy scattered, but Fasheshish horsemen raced out from adjacent ravines, eclipsing any hope of escape. Hands rose in surrender everywhere she looked.
Tior gestured behind him, and their ship lurched forward. “Let’s go take a look at our new prisoners, shall we? I think I recognized one of them. If I’m right, we’ll have made quite the catch before battle has even begun in earnest. Tell me, my queen, are you enjoying your new education yet?”
She was almost numb. And yet, she found it wasn’t from shock but from anger. Anger at her lack of control. Anger at the unnecessary slaughter.
She said nothing, though. She simply stood there, refusing to give the minister even a drop of satisfaction.
At the moment, it was the only victory available to her.
“Is she still asleep?”
“Her dose isn’t due for another two tolls. You’ve seen how she is. Won’t stir a bit.”
“What about Lerathus?”
Shadow of the Void Page 38
