Knight Redeemed: The Shackled Verities (Book Two)

by Tammy Salyer

  Halla crested the eastern horizon as the Gildr sailed into a vast bay off the coast of Dyrrakium and docked. Upon hearing the shouts of the crew, Ulfric and the Knights left their cabins for the top deck and caught their first sight of the great shunned empire.

  His eyes couldn’t widen enough to take it all in. The shores of the bay contained enough docks for a hundred ships, with piers built on stone pillars reaching to the ocean floor and stretching out into the calm waters for hundreds of paces. Trade and storage warehouses extended a short distance back from the piers until butting up against a tall stout red-stone wall that looked sturdy enough to outlive the world, a fortified bastion along the bay’s entire shoreline. An unbroken string of heavy armaments decked the wall, appearing capable of holding off a full-scale invasion.

  The wall’s three enormous drawn porticos gave him a glimpse into the city beyond that stretched so far past the limits of his vision that it appeared to have no end. Six immense statues rose above the city like watchtowers and towered ten times higher than the sea wall. Massive and imposing, each was the shape of a regal-looking man or woman, armed with Dyrrak weapons, their dress carved in the simple yet refined elegance of the Dyrrak people he’d met. He quickly took in that the statues were built in a V-shape stairstep pattern leading to a distant tower that seemed to glow with a reddish haze in the overhead sun. Even from this distance, the structure loomed large, and Ulfric guessed the tower’s purpose. Something that formidable had to have been built for a ruler—or a Verity.

  Thousands of people thronged the port as the Dyrraks tied off the fleet. The Knights and Ulfric returned to his cabin.

  Safran said, This city is huge. I’ve never seen anything like it. There are at least as many people outside to meet the ship as there are in Asteryss. If they’re not as devoted to Vaka Aster as they say, we’re in real trouble.

  Their faces all reflected the same mixture of readiness and caution, and no one, Ulfric noted, looked to Eisa for her reaction at Safran’s implied doubt in the Dyrraks.

  After a moment, she continued: Shall we then? I will take the lead.

  “No.” Ulfric stepped toward the exit, doffing his eye shields and handing them to Mallich to carry. He needed to be recognized in the role he was playing. It would be…safer. “I will. It’s me, or who they think I am, that draws them.”

  Just as he finished, the shadow of the Domine Ecclesium appeared in the hatch. He didn’t take a knee this time, merely bowed his head and did not meet Ulfric’s eyes. Foregoing the direction that he speak through Eisa, he said, “Vaka Aster, your people await you.”

  Ulfric gave a brief nod, and the Ecclesium went on, speaking to the assembled Knights. “The ever-faithful Dyrraks have waited so very long for the opportunity to be witness to you, Great Creator. Their excitement, I assure you, will remain respectful. You and the Knights Corporealis shall be escorted through Elezaran, our capital, to the Citadel Suprima. I hope that our program suits you.”

  He remained with his head tilted down, awaiting Ulfric’s response. So Ulfric had guessed right. Some kind of unlooked-for ceremony would herald this new chapter in his long life. He couldn’t let this continue for too long or he truly would go—how was it Jaemus put it?—muddle-minded. A pause drew out, then he answered, “It is good, Domine Ecclesium,” and said nothing more.

  The Ecclesium seemed to expect more, however, and waited another few heartbeats before dipping his head in acknowledgment. Then, addressing the Knights, he said, “Follow me.”

  “Have a care for the Himmingazians, too,” Stave gruffed.

  In the short time they’d been in the cabin, the ship had come to full rest and was anchored to the dock so securely that the gentle waves breaking against it didn’t rock it in the least. As Ulfric and the Knights proceeded toward the lowered gangplank, he breathed deeply, noting the coolness of the sea breeze that mixed headily with the otherwise warm air. Halla beamed brilliantly, almost scathingly, from above, lighting everything with stark rays. The beauty of the architecture and the obvious skill and devotion to the craft of construction its makers had shown while creating this city affected Ulfric. Dyrrakium’s imposing aestheticism hadn’t waned in the least during their exile, and the people filling the port appeared dignified to the last person. They carried themselves upright, tall, their postures without a hint of docility or servility. “Proud” didn’t come close to describing them, and “noble” only touched on their features and carriage. He could see that their immense statues were in no way an exaggeration of their nature.

  Not a whisper or cough came from the crowded port or walls, as if the empire were inhabited by mutes. The Knights waited on the deck as Dyrraks aligned themselves in ranks three deep from the base of the gangplank to the nearest portico through the city wall, creating an enclosed gauntlet of sorts for them to pass through.

  Hearing footfalls ascending from belowdecks, Ulfric looked over his shoulder. Aoggvír, or more precisely, in the habit of the Dyrraks, Seldeg Aoggvír, Heir of the Third Line, Chancellor of the Dyrrak Phalanx, passed by. The sight of the woman trailing her made Ulfric reach for his sword—which, in order to uphold the charade of being Vaka Aster, he was not wearing. For a heartbeat, he thought he was staring at a Ravener.

  Then he realized that, although the trailing woman’s skin was as gray and lifeless-looking as the Raveners’ had been, she was different. For one thing, she wasn’t as gangly as the Battgjaldic soldiers, and for another, she was even less animated than they had been. Her steps were halting slides, as if walking did not come naturally to her, and her body moved stiffly and unnaturally, with neither her arms swinging nor her knees appearing to bend. She was dressed from head to toe in a hooded crimson robe, a few shades darker than her hair, that hid all but her face and hands—completely unlike the short breeches and abbreviated tunics of the Dyrrak people—and her unblinking eyes were a filmy blue. Her face…something about it was familiar.

  “By my faith…” he heard Mallich whisper. “Eisa, what did you do?”

  As Ulfric tried to place the strange woman’s familiar features, the Ecclesium said a few final words of preparation to the Dyrrak crew aboard the ship, asked the Knights to wait a few moments while he addressed the crowd, then stepped to the top of the gangplank, positioning the woman beside him.

  Putting a hand on her shoulder, he began to speak. “My devoted Dyrraks, today the faith and loyalty with which we have lived for thousands of turns has reached its pinnacle, for we, the worthiest creations of our divine Vaka Aster, have become unified at long last with our maker. Vaka Aster had chosen us!”

  The words blew by Ulfric nearly unheard, for it was not the words but how they were spoken that shocked him. Though he could hear the Dyrrak leader’s voice, the speech was repeated by the woman before him. Not only repeated, but projected louder than any human could speak. Her voice rang from her mouth like a tolling bell, washing over the crowd and echoing from the city wall. It was uncanny, a wystic affect. But how? The Ecclesium was no Knight, nor was the strange woman.

  The Dyrrak ruler concluded his speech. “No longer do we declare the Six Aspects of our devotion to the void, but now we may do so directly to the Creator himself.” He stepped to the side, lowered his head, and swept a hand toward Ulfric.

  “Declare it to our maker, people of Dyrrakium!” the Ecclesium commanded.

  As one, every Dyrrak yelled back, “Faith! Strength! Wisdom! Duty! Loyalty! Dominion!” The port went immediately silent once more as the last syllable died on the calm breeze.

  That word again—dominion, Ulfric thought. He stepped forward reluctantly and looked at the crowd. Again, nearly in unison, every person knelt before him.

  Verity’s tears, Ulfric thought. This was never what I wanted.

  The Ecclesium stood and with his eyes still lowered said, “Great Creator, we’ve prepared a palanquin to bear you toward the citadel. It lies just inside the city gate. Please, follow me.”

  He turned and began pacing down
the gangplank, but Mallich stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Is there no quieter and less attended route, Ecclesium? Vaka Aster prefers solitude.”

  The Dyrrak leader turned back slowly. “But Knight Roibeard, don’t look so worried. You are among devoted servants. There is no danger to our maker anywhere within the borders of this empire. Your role as the vessel’s protector, such as it is, is all but obsolete in Dyrrakium.” He looked at Mallich’s hand still gripping him, then pulled his arm away. “Besides, our maker is more than capable of meeting any challenge offered without assistance from you.”

  Did Ulfric hear an insult in those words?

  Mallich looked at him, and Ulfric gave a brief nod. For now, we should follow the Ecclesium’s lead to the citadel, he sent.

  I’m beginning to think we might have been better off in Asteryss, I am, Stave said.

  It is their way, Safran supplied, and unfamiliar to us. They have been exiled for too long, cut off from Vinnr and the cultures and histories of the other kingdoms, and have lost their reverence for the Knights Corporealis. Even Vaka Aster is little more than an idea to them now. We have to be leery, but they’ve shown us no reason to suspect them of malicious intentions. She paused. Yet.

  Ulfric looked to Eisa, expecting a sneer or cold scowl from her for the suspicion the Knights held for her people, but what he saw surprised him. Her face had gone pale beneath the bronze burnish, and her unbroken stare rested on the pale woman who’d delivered the speech.

  Eisa? he sent. We will follow your lead.

  With an expectant look, the Ecclesium turned to face them.

  The warm sun began to grow too hot, uncomfortable. They needed to get moving before whatever engineered calm they were experiencing fractured. He said aloud to the Ecclesium, “The Himmingazians shall accompany us. After you, Ecclesium.”

  The Domine Ecclesium nodded, then said, “Speaker, return to Chancellor Aoggvír.”

  The gray-skinned woman turned around in stilted jerks that caused her robe to part, giving Ulfric a view of her torso. A pearly crystal about the size of a large walnut was embedded in a metal setting in the woman’s chest, just where her heart would have been. The crimson tunic the woman wore beneath the cloak was sewn into the edge of the setting, as if neither the stone nor the clothing was ever removed, giving the impression the woman was an elaborate doll with a strange jewel-like organ.

  Fate’s fury, sent Stave, is that what I think it is?

  It was. A Fenestros, or part of one. Exactly like the one he’d used to look into Lífs’s Scrylle back in Himmingaze just days ago. This was a piece of the realm’s missing Fenestros. Griggory had not recorded that in the Scrylle, at least not that he’d read. And there was only one way it could have come to be here.

  He looked at Eisa. Her face, wooden with tension, revealed nothing of what she was thinking. She stared at the back of the retreating Ecclesium as he walked down the gangplank. Without even glancing at Ulfric, she sent: Are you coming? and stepped after the Dyrrak leader.

  Palatial yet austere, the Citadel Suprima’s foreign architecture and unusual stonework defied Ulfric to guess its age. Pyramidal in shape, it rose to half the height of Vigil Tower, giving the impression it was more solid and ancient than the earth beneath them. As the procession had drawn close, he’d noted patterns in the structure’s red blocks created by a rust-colored yet gleaming type of stone. It could have been mistaken for a metal, but it was much too rough for that to be the case and clearly unworked by hammer or anvil. The way it caught the sun and refracted its light gave the citadel its reddish haze from a distance. The effect was almost ethereal, as if Halla at sundown illuminated the citadel from within.

  The trip to reach the citadel took much longer than Ulfric wanted. The beasts transporting his palanquin and the Himmingazians’ carts were stout, lumbering, lizard-like quadrupeds just a bit smaller than an average-size horse, but far slower. All along the route, the Dyrrak people had lined the streets and bowed their heads in respect. Safran had guessed their reverence for the Order and their maker had diminished during their long exile, but they seemed to have reclaimed it for the time being.

  Even before the Knights had been given a tour of the full citadel, Ulfric required they be shown their quarters and left alone. The Ecclesium tasked Chancellor Aoggvír with providing for them and took his leave almost immediately. She showed them to a massive hexagonal chamber at the pyramid’s peak with a dais near the back that rose five heads over the tallest Dyrrak, upon which was anchored an ornate carved-stone throne. Six fountains encircled the chamber’s periphery, and the sound of flowing water, colored a dull red from the ever-present red-stone dust that lightly coated the entire city, created a harmonious susurration throughout. This was to be Vaka Aster’s chamber.

  Or prison, thought Ulfric.

  Before the chancellor exited through the chamber’s heavy iron doors, Ulfric asked, “Where are the Himmingazians now?”

  The Ecclesium had shown the foreigners little more than indifference, but respectful indifference, if such a thing existed. Jaemus watched the woman with anxious eyes. He’d wanted to go with the Himmingazians, but Ulfric had requested he at least see where the rest of the Knights would be first.

  “They’ve all been shown to a suite on the lower floor of the citadel to settle in and try to recover from the voyage,” the woman responded, head bowed. “We will provide for them as our own, Great Creator.”

  Jaemus, unable to hold himself back, pressed, “Take me to them.” He shot a glance to Ulfric, and he gave him a slight nod. He couldn’t very well expect the Himmingazian to be kept from his own people. He had never asked for this duty either, after all. Ulfric was uniquely sympathetic.

  “This way,” said the chancellor.

  Jaemus followed on the woman’s heels, and just as the doors swung shut, Eisa said, “I’ll go and ensure the chamber and the citadel are secure,” and followed them.

  Mallich looked to Ulfric. “Would it best for me to go with her?”

  Ulfric shook his head. “No. She’ll keep us apprised through our lenses.”

  Mallich was silent, and Safran and Stave followed his lead, each adjusting to their new confines in their own ways. He didn’t know who besides Roi might have guessed who the revenant creature on the docks was: Lillias Grannd, Eisa’s former Yorish lover. What had Eisa done to her? And in the name of the Verities, why?

  In a moment, Safran sent: I am worried for them, the Himmingazians. They are doing poorly and have grown worse on the journey here.

  Ulfric eyed her. “What do you mean? Their world is entirely water. It seems unlikely they would get seasick.”

  They are having trouble adjusting to Vinnr. They seem to be suffering from a wasting condition. Like a disease, but I believe there is no cure except to be returned to their own realm. She looked past the doors where Jaemus had gone: Jaemus seems well enough. The spark he carries protects him as it would us. An immunity of sorts.

  Ulfric felt cold, and he turned away from the others. Isemay.

  It was easy enough for the others to follow his thoughts, and Stave said, “Sym will know what to do, Ulfric, she will. And that girl of yours is as tough as her parents anyway. We’ll find them, and they’ll be as fit and fine as a bruhawk with a gullet full of hare. You can be sure of it.”

  Ulfric looked at Stave and tipped his chin briefly, acknowledging his words if not Ulfric’s confidence in them.

  Ignoring Stave’s last statement, Mallich said, “What do you think, Ulfric? Is it time to send someone to find them?”

  Ulfric nodded decisively and turned to Safran. “Now that we’ve reached safety, will you see to Yggo and Urgo and have them come?”

  Nodding, she paced to one of the chamber’s tall windows and raised her Mentalios to link to the bruhawks. The creatures had stayed within range of the ships throughout the entire journey, carrying the satchel containing the celestial artifacts of both Vaka Aster and Balavad within their claws, only leaving the
m briefly with the Knights on their private deck when they needed to hunt. When Safran called, they swooped in the chamber and alighted on the tall dais within moments, leaving the satchel at its base.

  Safran released the sightlink and gently scratched beneath their neck feathers as she praised them quietly. They bent their heads, crooning low at the welcome attention. They’ll want to be fed soon, or they’ll hunt on their own, she sent. And the Dyrraks must be informed that they are allies so no one attempts to catch or kill them when they’re away from the citadel. Yggo and Urgo won’t be as tolerant of misplaced aggression as we might be.

  “I’ll spread the word.” Stave had already started toward the chamber door and spoke briefly with a guard posted outside. He came back in a moment. “Won’t be long, it won’t. I asked for some grub for us as well. We’ll get that burly chancellor to formally brief the Dyrraks once we’re done here. She looks like someone nobody in their right mind would dare defy, she does, ” he finished and eyed Ulfric expectantly.

  “Ulfric,” he went on. “Who was that gray lady and why was a Fenestros punched into her like a dart?”

  It was Mallich who answered. “Her name is Lillias Grannd, and she is the reason for what Dyrrakium has become. The Fenestros, though, I don’t know where that came from.” He turned to Ulfric with an eyebrow raised questioningly.

  He shared his theory with the rest. “I believe it may be part of the missing Fenestros of Himmingaze. When I was able to read their Scrylle map, I could only find four. How and why this one is here is a mystery.”

  A mystery Eisa could answer, Safran said, her assumption right on point as it usually was.

  Ulfric nodded. “Perhaps, but that is a matter we can wait to discuss, preferably with Jaemus present. It’s his world’s artifact, and he should be consulted. One thing we’ll all agree on is that it will need to be…retrieved.” One more problem for us to resolve, he noted with an internal sigh.