Shadows of Destiny

by Rachel Lee

  Bozandari fighting with the Anari? The rumors had come to his ears, but he had dismissed them. No Bozandari soldier could be guilty of such treason. And most certainly not his cousin Tuzza. He had been convinced that what his scouts had seen was nothing other than their brethren being marched as prisoners, possibly as hostages.

  But what he saw arrayed before him now he could not mistake. The survivors of his cousin’s legion were arrayed for battle, ready to fight their own kindred.

  Alezzi had been hardened by many years of service, but he was not hard enough to look at this without feeling betrayed to his core. He had been sent to rescue his cousin’s legion, and his cousin who was so dear to the emperor. Instead he must now fight them as enemies.

  He was about to lift his arm and signal his army to descend from the hills and meet the Enemy on the plain below—for what other option did he have?—when a sight stayed his gesture.

  Descending from the facing hills came three riders: a Bozandar by whose posture in the saddle he recognized as his cousin, a man all in black with a gleaming sword at his side and a quiver and bow on his back and—most striking of all—a woman clad all in white who, to his disbelieving eyes, seemed to gleam as if she were part of the morning light itself.

  They carried a parley flag with them, overlaid squares of black and white. He could have ignored it and simply attacked, but his cousin was out there, and curiosity was too strong to ignore.

  “It is a trick,” his lieutenant Malchi said.

  “It is my cousin. I will go to meet him and see what he has to say.”

  “They are using him.”

  “Perhaps. And perhaps he uses them.”

  Malchi’s brows lifted. “I had not thought of that.”

  “Which is why I command this force and you do not.” It was a harsh statement, but Alezzi had always found Malchi to be of less use than trouble, a man who had risen to his present position simply by connections and money, having earned none of it himself. Alezzi’s family, and by extension Tuzza’s, had always scorned those who failed to understand that wealth and position carried with it great responsibility. They were not merely toys for the lazy.

  “Who will you take?”

  “Why, you, of course,” Alezzi answered, as if there could be no doubt. In truth, he would rather have the man at his side than behind him where he could make mischief. “My standard bearer and one swordsman.”

  “Only one?”

  “Aye. I can protect myself, but you might need some protection.”

  Malchi’s face turned a deep hue of red, and anger flared in his eyes. Had Alezzi not already known what a powerless toad the man was, he might have become genuinely concerned. As it was, while Malchi had his faction within the legion, they numbered far fewer than Alezzi’s supporters.

  A short while later, he and his small band ventured forth to meet his cousin and companions. Alezzi, however, did not carry the parley flag; he carried his own black lion. Let them know that they were not safe from attack should he consider it necessary.

  Tuzza watched his cousin’s approach with mixed feelings. The two of them had been closer than brothers most of their lives, though the demands of their positions had often carried them hundreds of leagues apart.

  It was good to recognize his cousin riding toward him. It was not good to see the banner his cousin’s standard bearer carried, for it was a message of no mercy, a message of readiness to attack. They were not to be granted the ancient rule of protection for this meeting.

  “It is not good,” Archer murmured. “Tess, you must head back to the army. We cannot afford to lose you.”

  “You will not lose me.” Her voice carried not a shadow of doubt.

  Archer sighed exasperatedly and wondered how it was he had let the woman talk him into joining them. Hadn’t he only yesterday said she must not be taken, even if it meant her life? Yet here he was, allowing her to expose herself in a way that might very well require him to slay her to keep her from capture.

  But somehow it was impossible to ignore the decree of an Ilduin when she drew herself up and fire flashed from her eyes. So like Theriel, he sometimes thought, yet even greater in power, for he had, to his own sorrow, ignored Theriel too often.

  Tuzza looked at the two of them, one on each side of him, then shrugged and shoved the parley banner’s staff into the ground so both his hands would be free. The wind lifted it and flapped it, that dull sound that fabric made, a sound that had accompanied most of his adult life. It was rare, however, to hear it in the kind of silence that swathed the plain right now.

  At last the sound of the hooves of the approaching horses could be heard. Tuzza did not misunderstand his brother’s message in bringing an additional swordsman. The beginning of this talk would be difficult indeed.

  Alezzi reached them and reined his steed. His eyes, very like Tuzza’s, scanned the two men and the woman before him. “Who commands here?”

  Tuzza answered, “In what way, cousin?”

  Alezzi’s brow lifted. “Who commands this army?”

  Tuzza signed toward Archer. “Annuvil. Firstborn son of the Firstborn king. And the Lady Tess.” He gestured toward her. “The Weaver who was foretold.”

  Alezzi’s face reflected shock, then scorn. “Are you maddened by your losses, cousin? You listen to children’s tales? You are seeing things?”

  “The things I have seen I have not imagined. I was close to death, but this lady saved me. She saved hundreds, friend and foe alike. She walks with the white wolf.”

  Again the chill passed down Alezzi’s back. “And you have become a traitor, cousin?”

  Tuzza shook his head. “I have much to tell you and show you, Alezzi. But give me the time. Then, if you are unpersuaded, you may kill me and join the battle. But it is a battle you will not win, for this army is guarded by Ilduin.”

  Again the chill ran along Alezzi’s spine, even as his mind tried to rebel and tell him that clearly Tuzza had lost his mind. He glanced toward Malchi and saw that his lieutenant would gladly draw his sword right now and begin the fight.

  Perhaps it was Malchi’s expression as much as anything that made Alezzi hesitate. He never respected the wisdom of bloodlust.

  He looked at the lady again, and saw a light that seemed to shine from within. Then he looked at the large, silent man in black, the one his brother had called Annuvil, and sensed something of great dignity and patience. What he did not see on any of the three faces before him was the hunger he saw on Malchi’s face.

  “We will talk,” Alezzi said.

  Malchi started to object and Alezzi turned to the swordsman he had brought with them. “Guard Malchi from all harm,” he said to the man. “But at the same time, make certain he stays here and talks to no one.”

  The swordsman, one of the strongest and most trustworthy in the legion, a strong supporter of Alezzi, nodded. “Aye, Overmark. So it shall be.”

  Then Alezzi looked at his cousin. “I will give you the remainder of the day to persuade me why I should not condemn you as a traitor and wipe your misbegotten army from the face of the world.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Within an hour, a huge bonfire had been lit in the center of the plain, a sign to both armies that a parley was taking place. As long as that fire burned, none would take action against their foes.

  Alezzi, and even Malchi, as it happened, learned something very important in the building of that fire. While soldiers had gathered the dead wood from the surrounding hills (and much there was, this being a desert) and laid it, it was a wave of Annuvil’s hand and a few murmured words that set it ablaze.

  Alezzi, sitting on a camp stool, felt awe creep into his every bone. All knew the Ilduin had possessed magicks, and one Ilduin worked for the Bozandari emperor, a woman who, to Alezzi’s way of thinking, accomplished very little that couldn’t have been done as well with a few spies.

  But since the First Times, no man had possessed magicks of any sort. He looked at the one who claimed to
be Annuvil, and began to wonder.

  Then Annuvil, he whom the others called Archer, pulled from his scabbard a sword so beautiful that Alezzi wondered what mortal could have forged it.

  “This is Banedread,” Annuvil said. He lifted it, and in his hand it began to hum, making a sound not unlike the most beautiful of crystal chimes. “In my hand alone will it sing, and to my command alone will it come. It has accomplished awful deeds in the past, Alezzi. It alone can kill me or kill the Enemy who faces us. It alone can murder the Firstborn.”

  He thrust it point down into the sand and let it stand for all to see. “It alone can be used to kill me,” he repeated. “If you think we play you false as we talk, take it and pierce me. I will not see another dawn.”

  The Lady Tess gasped, and made to move as if she would shield the sword, but then she sank back on her small stool and sighed. “Trust we must have.”

  “Aye,” said Annuvil. “And we must have it now, or the Enemy will triumph and turn all the world to his evil ways. Only through trust can we triumph against the coming dark.”

  Alezzi looked at his cousin. “Speak to me, Tuzza. Tell me why you have turned against your own kind.”

  “But I have not, cousin. The threat facing Bozandar is greater than that of a slave uprising, or a war for independence by the people we have oppressed. What lies ahead of us if we fail now will be an oppression beyond any we have inflicted on others.”

  “But how can you know this?”

  Tuzza looked at the Lady Tess. “She walks with the Snow Wolf. It is the time prophecy has foretold.”

  “You have seen this?”

  “I and my entire legion, or what is left of it. The white wolves came with her like an escort, and the biggest walked beside her.”

  “I find this hard to believe. Those tales…they were but cautions for the nursery!”

  “Would it were so,” said Annuvil. “Would it were so.”

  Tuzza kicked at a pebble with the toe of his boot, as if to unleash a frustration beyond words. “Have you any idea what happens in Bozandar, cousin? I would have turned about to go to the city’s aid were it not that our emperor loves you so much. Were it not that the mothers and wives of your legionnaires demanded their bodies be returned. The streets run with blood. A messenger has come but recently to say that the Anari slaves have revolted and killed hundreds, if not thousands. That even now they flee the city and head toward my legion. What do you expect me to do?”

  “Let them flow through you as water flows around rocks. When they meet their fellows, they will know why they were called.”

  “Called?” Alezzi looked up. “By the gods, who called them?”

  “Anahar,” Tess said quietly. “Her stones sang, and her song reached the heart of every Anari. Those who were free to do so came and joined our army to withstand Tuzza’s attack. The rest…apparently the rest have answered Anahar’s call in the only way they could, by gaining their freedom.”

  “How can there be any good in so much bloodshed?”

  Tess’s gaze turned steely. “How can there be any good in slavery?”

  Malchi snorted, ignoring the order he had been given to remain silent. “Some are meant to be slaves. It is right that the powerful should use them.”

  “So power makes right?” Annuvil asked, looking at Malchi.

  “Aye, that it does. The strongest arm, the deadliest sword. These are what grant authority, and those who do not have them are fated to serve beneath the heel of the strongest.”

  Annuvil nodded slowly. “Then I am the most powerful man you will ever meet, Malchi, and it is only just that you should lie beneath my heel.”

  Malchi’s face reddened and he took a threatening step toward Archer. The man set to guard him moved to block him, but Archer waved him back. “No, we must settle this now. This man misunderstands true power.”

  “I do not!”

  “Aye, you do. If the ability to deliver death is power, then I have more power than you will ever have in a lifetime. If it elevates, then it has elevated me to near godhood. I have helped destroy entire cities in my time. I am the one who caused the creation of the plain of Dederand. Have you seen it, Malchi? Have you looked upon the leagues and leagues of black glass where nothing will ever again grow? That happened because of me. So let us talk of power.”

  Malchi stepped back, his eyes uncertain.

  “Aye, think about it, Malchi. True power lies with the Lady Tess. Power beyond your imagining. Perhaps you should place her heel upon your neck right now. But the most interesting thing, Malchi, is that she would not let you do so. For all her power, she wishes none to bow to her. And when she calls upon her power, it is to save and almost never to destroy. For she understands power, Malchi. The real power is the power to help.”

  Malchi spat. “That is weakness, not power.”

  Annuvil shook his head. “I pity you.”

  “You pity me? You are a madman whose mind has been bent by ancient tales until you think you are immortal. There are no immortals, and you are but a pale shadow of a true man. As for her…” He looked at Tess. “She plays tricks with her white dogs. They are not the snow wolves of which prophecy speaks.”

  Tuzza spoke sharply. “Malchi, you do not know of what you speak. Be silent!”

  But Malchi had other plans. Before anyone could stop him, he leapt toward Tess, grabbed her and held a knife to her throat. “Power? If she has power, let her save herself now.”

  The men had risen to their feet, as if they would act, but the knife blade pressed too close to Tess’s throat.

  “Let the woman go, Malchi,” Alezzi barked. “Let her go or I will see you drawn and quartered and left for the buzzards.”

  “Then so be it, but at least you will no longer consider turning traitor to your people! You will see that these three lie to you, that your cousin is deluded.”

  “Malchi.” Tess spoke quietly. To the surprise of the others, her eyes showed no fear, only sorrow. “Malchi, cut me not, for my blood judges.”

  “Tripe!”

  “I have seen it,” Annuvil said. “Let her go. If you so much as prick her, you will burn in a fire beyond your imaginings.”

  Malchi glared at him, his knife still pressed to Tess’s throat.

  “Malchi,” she said again. This time her tone was less sorrowful, more steely. “I pray you, do not do this thing. Save yourself. Spare me, spare all of us, the horror of what my blood will do to you.”

  With those words, she began to glow faintly, a blue aura that crackled. Malchi was startled but did not release her. “Soft words and pale magicks. They may fool ignorant Anari, but they will not fool me.”

  Then, as if to prove he was not intimidated, he moved his knife, drawing it down Tess’s cheek and laying it open.

  Tess cried out once, but her cry was nothing compared to the shriek that issued from Malchi’s throat as her blood dripped on him. Alezzi stared in horror as Tess’s blood spurted freely onto his lieutenant, and everywhere it landed he began to burn. It was not a natural fire, but one that burned inward, blackening deep holes in his flesh. He dropped his knife and backed away, still screaming.

  “Oh, Elanor, I cannot save him!” Tess cried, recoiling from the horror of what her blood had done. She reached out as if to lay hands on Malchi, who now rolled in the dirt in agony, but Annuvil pulled her back.

  “No, my lady. You must not. Your blood has judged him. He is beyond the power of anyone to save now. You will only bleed on him more.”

  She turned swiftly away, covering her ears, trying to close out the gruesome scenes and sounds. Alezzi stared both in horror and amazement as the drops of her blood fell to the desert sands and small blue flowers appeared almost immediately. Behind her, Malchi’s cries weakened, and finally died.

  He noted, too, that where Tess’s blood fell on Annuvil, it did not burn. Truly the woman’s blood was a judgment. He knew then for certain: She was who they claimed she was.

  In his entire life, he had b
owed to no man or woman save the emperor, but he bowed now to the Ilduin. He had seen all the proof he needed.

  Annuvil nodded his way, then swept Tess into his embrace, covering her shaking figure with his black cloak, holding her as if he would suck the pain from her if only he held on tightly enough.

  “’Twas not your choice, my lady,” he murmured. “You did not choose this. It was not by your will that Malchi died, but by his. You warned him.”

  She shook with sobs now. “Why must I be so cursed?”

  “You must be protected until the Enemy is defeated. It is for this reason that your blood judges. And it will judge whether you will or no whoever seeks to harm you. But it is not for you that it protects you. It is for all of us.”

  She lifted her tear-stained face to search his eyes, and Alezzi saw with awe that the wound on her cheek had already healed, leaving nothing but the thinnest, finest of scars to tell the tale.

  Tuzza caught his eye. “What think you now, cousin?”

  Alezzi steadied himself. “I think we must talk. And I am fully prepared to listen.”

  Alezzi ordered Malchi’s burial first, calling down a squad from the hills to deal with it. He made a point, though, of refusing Malchi even the smallest of military honors. If anyone else in his legion was thinking about disobeying an order, the message should be plain.

  Senior officers from both sides were also summoned, and soon a dozen men, both dark and light-skinned, faced one another, some seated on camp stools, others on rocks. Denza Gruden, the officer promoted by Tuzza, once again sat almost like a bridge between the two groups.

  The distrust among Alezzi’s commanders was evident in every gesture, in every look. They eyed Tuzza, Odetta and Denza with something like scorn, and the Anari Ratha and Jenah with outright hatred.

  But Alezzi carried enough of their respect that they opened their ears, if not their hearts.

  Tuzza faced Alezzi’s officers, standing in the pose of an orator. The pose signaled that he commanded nothing from them except a hearing. No Bozandari would deny him that much.