Ascending Shadows (The Age of Dawn Book 6)

by Everet Martins

  “I’m sorry. It was a stupid idea.” Grimbald’s heartbeat throbbed in his throat, feeling the spot where Juzo’s teeth had wanted to go.

  “No, no. It was fine, should’ve been. It’s alright. Let’s see to Nyset.” Juzo swallowed, slipped on his cloak and sword. He wrapped his cloak tight around his angular form.

  “Yeah, right. Follow me,” Grimbald beckoned and led the way, making sure there was always at least a few feet between them. Juzo didn’t seem to mind at all.

  Six

  Shadow Rising

  “Keep your darkest plans in your heart alone. When you execute them, strike like lightning.” – The diaries of Nyset Camfield

  Senka’s lungs were starting to burn. She had already gone up twelve flights of stairs. She went up another flight, turned up another, another after that, and finally crested the last landing. Her chest was heaving, the physical conditioning she once had long departed. Maybe this many stairs would’ve winded her in the past, she couldn’t remember. Her memories were like shattered glass, bits and pieces occasionally showing through the haze of Angel’s Moss. She turned right to face the hallway leading into the Arch Wizard’s office.

  She stopped to catch her breath and propped her elbows on the stone windowsill, peering out to the west. She took in the vast midnight landscape. The dark plains sprawled out from the tallest building in Zoria: the Arch Wizard’s spire. The moon was a bright silver, the flatlands of the Plains of Dressna all shifting shadows. She thought she might have been able to see the tips of the Mountains of Misery, but her eyesight wasn’t what it once was. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her breath and letting the cool air peel off some of her sweat.

  It had been over a year since she’d last seen the Arch Wizard. Would she even remember what she looked like? How should she act? What was she doing here? More questions rose from her mind, but she pushed them away. The Mistress had summoned her, and it had to be for a good reason.

  She opened her eyes, faced the hallway and started onward. The walls were beautiful, pairs of elegant arches crisscrossing over each side every few feet. It looked as though every stone was adorned with fine carvings of the Dragon and the Phoenix in a myriad of poses that all looked to be in motion. Between the arches were oil based paintings of the great battles waged during the Shadow War. One depicted the initial touch of the Shadow’s scourge on Breden, another the Battle of Dressna, and another the Silver Tower’s siege by the slain demon god Asebor.

  The last painting before her closed door was of Walter Glade, standing victoriously over the Shadow god’s body. Senka was there and remembered Walter had looked anything but victorious. She remembered watching the flesh torn from his body, stripped down to a husk of bleeding bones and sinews. His jaw had been torn free, and his eyes had become bloody pits. She’d never forget that day in the Shadow Realm for all of the years to come. It was another memory added to the gallery of her nightmares.

  She raised her hand to knock, hesitated a second in mid-air, then rapped on the door. She was here in the Tower. She was doing this.

  “Come in,” the Mistress’ silken voice called.

  Senka carefully opened the door, staring at the floor, eying the towers of books scattered about. She sniffed the aroma of old paper, sharp despite the four opened windows in her room.

  “Senka!” Nyset squealed and rushed over to her, arms thrown open.

  Senka found herself smiling as Nyset pressed herself against her, arms giving her a firm hug. “Mistress,” she managed.

  “How are you? Please, make yourself comfortable,” Nyset turned and gestured for her to sit.

  “Very well, Mistress. Very well, thank you for calling on me.” Senka swallowed.

  “Never going to give up that title, are you?”

  Senka weakly smiled.

  There were four chairs, each a distinctly different style. They were pushed in front of a round table strewn with an enormous map marked up in reds. Senka made her way for a chair, avoided stepping on the twenty or so scrolls scattered about the floor between the neat stacks of books. She caught a few of the filigreed titles: Slaves of Fire, Questioning the Abyss, Serpents with Wings, and Signs of the End.

  Senka slipped off her cloak and draped it over the back of the chair. She wore her old leather armor, faintly smelling of mold after sitting in her trunk for too long, even after repeated cleanings. It still fit her well, the leather soft in the right places and hard where she needed protection. Plates had been mended and leather stitched where it had been damaged during the Shadow War. It might’ve even passed her father’s inspection.

  Her Dragon headed daggers sat on her hips, heads gleaming in the flickering torchlight. She’d been a warrior once and wanted the Mistress to remember that. She felt at her bracers, touching her fingers on the underside to ensure the poisoned needles were intact. She surely didn’t want any slipping free and falling into Gaidal’s curious hands. He had to be able to walk now, she guessed.

  “You came armed.” Nyset nodded and pushed golden locks behind her ears. Her hair was messy, knotted in a few places. “That is good.”

  “Why is that, Mistress?” Senka looked up at her, still standing where they had first embraced a few feet away.

  Nyset clasped her hands over her chest and licked her lips. She looked so small, so wasted. Her cheeks had drawn in around her jaw, and deep lines had formed around her brows. She wore a bright robe of finely woven silk with wine-red trim over the edges of her plunging neckline and broad sleeves. “In time, dear. Tell me, how is life in the new city faring?”

  Senka suppressed an uncomfortable sigh, and her legs started bouncing. “It’s well... what you’ve done, well, it’s wonderful.” It truly was. Sure, there were things she was unhappy about, but they weren’t related to the state of the city. She would not whine about the trap she’d set for herself, stepping into the jaws of Angel’s Moss.

  “You’ve not grown bored with an ordinary life?” Nyset tapped a finger to her plump, chapped lip. “Not carrying on the ways of the Scorpions?”

  Senka’s armor was becoming hot and stifling. “No, no. It’s a pleasant life.” Awful, miserable. I don’t belong here. “As far as the ways, well, of course. I must, it’s my duty, my oath to my father.” Senka’s throat felt dry. “Maybe, perhaps someday I will write a book to pass them on, so they don’t die forever.” She forced a smile on her face.

  Nyset broke into a smile as well and rushed over to a chair, kicking scrolls away and sitting beside her. “You should. We have a decided lack of scholars with first-hand knowledge of war, even more so with poisons. Most are charlatans, writing from the bastions of their keeps with their hands unsullied.”

  Senka nodded, her eyes drawn to the map scrawled in red. She knew then this was part of the reason she’d been summoned. War? Bandits? Pirates? What was happening?

  “I’m sorry that I haven’t been more communicative.” Nyset leaned towards her, smelling like a mix of strong body odor masked by lilac extract. “I’ve been so busy with everything. Documenting Walter’s legacy, the Shadow War, Walter’s discoveries. There is so much… it’s overwhelming,” She looked over her shoulder and let out an exasperated breath.

  Senka shrugged uncomfortably. “I know you are very busy, your duties great.” But why did you toss me away like a used carcass? she wanted to ask.

  Nyset’s eyes rolled around the room. “I was wondering, Senka, why you stopped coming to visit me?”

  Senka felt her jaw slip open. “Why I…” She cleared her throat. “Claw, the Northern barbarian, dismissed me. He said you…” She shook her head. She didn’t understand. “I’m so confused, Mistress.”

  “What?” Nyset’s voice cut the air. “What did you say Claw told you?” She leaned in close.

  Senka’s cheeks burned with blood and she shook her head. “It’s okay, I understand.”

  “No, tell me, Senka. Please.” Nyset’s request came out sounding like a command, and she was obliged to comply. />
  Senka half-smiled and looked into her curled hands. “He told me that the Tower wasn’t a place for mercenaries and that—”

  “The bastard!” she seethed, rose up and started pacing. “I’ll talk to him. I can’t believe him! That man…” She wrung her hands, and her eyes flashed in a spark of the Dragon’s brilliance.

  “What?” Senka asked. “Are you saying you didn’t dismiss me?”

  Nyset came around the table and put her hands on Senka’s shoulders, looked into her eyes and saw they were pools of fire. “No, Senka. I thought you grew tired of your service and left the Tower for a different life.” She turned her back on Senka and shook her head. “He was only doing it to protect me, protect Gaidal. Doesn’t make it right.” She faced her again, and the fire in her eyes winked out. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so distracted by…” She gestured at the map. “All of this.”

  Senka peered at it again, ominous red X’s dotting an unfamiliar coastline. “I thought you had forgotten about me,” she found herself muttering. There it was, the truth of how she felt: forgotten and unloved.

  A knock came from the parted door. “Nyset?” A deep voice called, but the Mistress ignored it and stared into her eyes, seeming to quiver. “No, Senka, I did not forget you,” she breathed out the words.

  Senka felt a great warmth starting to push out from her eyes but broke away before it became a torrent. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, turned as a hulking man ducked under the archway and shuffled in. She recognized him immediately.

  “Make yourself at home, Grim.” Nyset rose to her feet and sniffed.

  “Always do.” He smiled broadly. “Senka. Didn’t know you were here.” He regarded her with a nod and put his hands on his hips. “Visiting or…?”

  “I asked for her,” Nyset said flatly.

  “Alright.” Grim shrugged. “Good to see you. You well?”

  “Well enough. Yourself?” Senka sat bolt upright, peering at the other figure slinking in behind him, her heart thumping.

  Isa?

  No.

  Grimbald replied, but she didn’t hear him. The man was lean as a corpse with an eye glowing with the red of Death Spawn. “Juzo?” Senka gave him a limp wave. She hadn’t seen him since Walter’s funeral. He’d left the Tower, never to be seen again by her accounting.

  “Senka.” He smiled, his face pinked with what might have been smeared blood. She saw his hair was speckled with what certainly was blood.

  “Ny, this room is a tinderbox.” Grimbald puffed his chest out. “As commander of your guard and protector of the Tower, think it goes without saying it’d be unsafe to use Dragon fire in here.” He eyed the stacks of books and piles of scrolls.

  “Thank you for your concern, but I assure you it’s fine.” She smiled at him.

  “You take all the books from the library?”

  “Hardly. This is only a small percentage of what the Death Spawn hadn’t burned. The loss of so much knowledge… is a terrible tragedy.”

  Senka rose up and strode over to Juzo to shake his hand. It felt cold as ice, but she did her best to hide her disgust. She turned to Grimbald with her hand offered, but he wrapped his arms around her in a surprising hug. “Good to see you,” he rumbled into her ear.

  “You too.” She pulled away and grinned at him. He smelled like spirits but assumed everyone would tonight. It had been so long since she’d seen them all. Truthfully, she never thought she’d see them again. Grimbald was entrenched in the Tower, busy with training the Armsman.

  Senka stepped back, bumping into a stack of tomes. “Sorry,” she huffed, quickly adjusting them before they could topple.

  “Not a bother.” Nyset shrugged.

  “Wow… you’ve been busy, Ny.” Juzo peered about the room and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Busy, busy… crazy busy, even.”

  “That’s Arch Wizard for you,” she snickered and crossed her arms, overtly raising her nose.

  Juzo scoffed. “Well, it seems the rumors are true.”

  “What rumors?” Nyset asked.

  “Looks like you’ve finally gone fully crazy. I always knew it would happen eventually, always had a bit of a loon in you, but not at such a young age. Thought you had at least ten more years before the seams started unraveling.”

  “Very funny and from you of all people.” She grinned at him with her head tilted. “Come over here and give this old crone a hug.”

  He laughed, and they hugged. “It’s great to see you. How’s your cabin in the wilds? Don’t get lonely there?”

  “You too. No lonelier than I imagine you do up here in the sky, lording over all the peasants down below.”

  “Oh, stop.” She gently pushed him.

  He leaned out between twin pillars of books butting up against a window. “New Breden, huh? What a view!”

  “Mm. Like it?” Nyset asked then knitted her brows. “Is that blood in your hair?”

  “Likely. Can thank Grim for that.” He nodded towards him.

  Juzo pushed away from the window and turned to face the room. “It’s nice, maybe a bit much. You should come to the west. Old Breden’s been rebuilt. Nothing like this of course, but it’s almost like it once was. Kind of strange, really. Like seeing an old memory brought back to life.”

  “So what’re we all here for?” Grimbald ran his fingers along a bookshelf, making his way over to the center table. “Not for tea and honey cakes, I’d guess.” Senka noted there was a dent in his armor near his ribs on one side, saw him favoring the other in the way he moved.

  “No. Something far less enjoyable, I’m afraid. By the way, heard about your scuffle at the Explorer. Couldn’t resist causing a scene, could you?”

  Grimbald cleared his throat and forced a smile at the Mistress. “What? Just keeping the edge sharp, you know how it is.”

  “I see some things never change.” Nyset clicked her tongue.

  “Knew there had to be a good reason to send for me,” Juzo muttered and glanced at Nyset.

  “Yes, well…” Nyset paused, her skin flushing from her cheeks to her neck. “I’ve been troubled, busy. You’ll see why… just waiting for one more. Hate to have to repeat myself.”

  Footsteps came from the hall, seemingly purposefully made to be heard. Isa Dodred stepped into the room, his expression guarded. Senka’s heart leaped into her throat, and her stomach squirmed. He wore a billowing cloak over layers of heavy leather armor. She noted the numerous weapons studding his belt and the sword draped across his back. He didn’t look to have aged an iota.

  “Arch Wizard,” Isa bowed low, eyes down. “I am your blade.”

  It was really him. He was really here.

  “Isa, thank you for coming. Had a testing tonight, didn’t you?”

  Isa grunted a reply, his jaw working. “May I?” He gestured at the chairs, moving toward them before she answered.

  “That’s what they’re for.” Nyset nodded.

  Isa strode over to the table, eyes distant, and slumped into a chair beside the one Senka had been sitting in. Her heart hammered through her every limb. The scent of him, sweet smoke and earth wafted into her nose as he passed her by without a glance. She felt a deep longing emerging from someplace deep within her chest, like sprouting flowers pushing through piles of hardened earth. She was surprised to find that longing still there, thought it long dead.

  Senka watched him, waiting for the illusion to vanish. He stared at the map for a moment then his eyes flicked up to meet hers. He gasped, then failed at trying to hide it. “Senka!” He vaulted up to his feet, cobalt eyes bulging. This was no illusion. “I didn’t know you were here.” He stood there, frozen in place like his feet had been snared to the floor.

  “I’m here.” She felt herself involuntarily smiling and breaking eye contact. “How have you been, Isa? It has been long since our paths have crossed.” She dared to meet his eyes again, felt as if there might have been a visible form of energy traveling between them. But there was only air. />
  “Yes.” He nodded, his eyes exploring her face. “Too long.” His hands went to his belt, resting on a pair of daggers and pushing his elbows out.

  “Heard about your scuffle in New Breden too.” Nyset held her arms behind her back, staring daggers at Isa and drawing Senka’s attention.

  “Too?” Isa said, his brow furrowed at her.

  “Never mind.” Nyset shook her head. “By the Dragon, what is wrong with you? You can’t go around killing civilians.” Nyset gestured with clawed hands, sparks sizzling on her fingertips.

  Isa seemed to shrink in his chair “They weren’t civilians. Even if they were, they got what they had coming to them. Have you lost your trust in me?”

  Nyset took a long breath and started to pace. “Of course I trust you. But think about how it looks. A man, supposedly a Tower assassin, if there were such a thing, loses his mind in a whorehouse and kills two men, mortally wounds a third. What am I supposed to do?”

  “There was a survivor? Losing my edge.” A sinister smile crept across his lips. “I gave them a chance to leave,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You say it as if you did nothing to provoke them. Somehow, I doubt you didn’t have more than a few chances to extricate yourself from the scene.” Nyset pulled on a strand of hair.

  Juzo gently sat in the chair adjacent to Isa, his red eye whirling about and inspecting the room. Grimbald moved to the table across from Isa, his plate armor shifting.

  “I told you they got what they deserved.” Isa’s voice was ice. “Not unlike any other mess I’ve left before, right?” He cocked his head at the Mistress.

  Nyset’s posture slumped, and her robe fell from one shoulder, showing most of her chest. There was a thick scar going down her olive skin from her collarbone to the top of her breast. “It doesn’t matter. We have bigger issues at hand. Far bigger.”

  Isa was in a whorehouse? Why would he go to a place like that? Senka didn’t want to know the answer. She made her way around the table to sit next to him, watched a drop of sweat creep down his temple. She saw her quivering fingers, the need for Angel’s Moss screaming out to her like an urge to breathe. Isa narrowed his eyes, shifting them from her hands to her eyes, and she stuffed her hands under her legs. “Not feeling well,” she mumbled.