Etchings of Power (Aegis of the Gods)

by Simpson, Terry C. ; Wilson-Viola, D Kai; Ordonez Arias, Gonzalo

  The chase continued for a few minutes before Ryne realized they no longer gained. In fact, the man stayed just out of reach the entire time. A face, covered in dark green and yellow paint, flickered back at them.

  Another Alzari? This far into the Mondros?

  Ryne glanced to the side again. Two lapras now loped along their flanks, focused on the Alzari. Seeking easier prey then, or what’ll remain when we’re done. Ryne smiled with the thought.

  The assassin’s body twisted and his hand flung out toward Sakari. Before his hand retracted, he faced forward again without losing any momentum to his flight.

  Sakari rolled his shoulders and slipped to one side. Three daggers flew past where he was moments ago.

  Sunlight glinted from the blades now flying toward Ryne. Unable to duck, he leaped to one side without stopping. The daggers stuck into a tree trunk somewhere behind him with near simultaneous thuds.

  Ryne reached through his Scripts for Mater around him. At that moment, what bothered him became clear. He stopped himself from touching the elements. Still in pursuit, he frowned.

  The Alzari were Matii who could Forge the element of Forms and its essences. Why didn’t this one do so and make himself one with the trees? Why did he make the mistake of breaking a branch, but now ran without touching a single leaf?

  Ryne skidded to a halt, his heart racing. “Sakari. Cease.”

  Sakari glanced back at Ryne, and then he too stopped. His smooth gait returned him to Ryne within moments. The Alzari still ran without a sound.

  “Is all well?” Sakari showed no signs of exertion.

  Ryne’s breathing slowed to normal. “Alzari assassins aren’t allowed on their own until they perfect their craft. If he intended to try to kill one of us, we wouldn’t hear him coming. And this one doesn’t have the aura of Amuni’s Children.”

  Sakari’s face remained blank.

  “Either he wanted us to hear him and lead us into a trap, or he’s protecting something. Think. When we came within range, he slowed for us. He never used Mater to escape as they often do. Why’s that?”

  Sakari shrugged. “Let us return and see.”

  Winding their way back, they stopped to check several possible hiding spots. Behind them, lapras howled. The earlier beasts had drummed up the courage to attack the Alzari after all, Ryne thought with a smirk. The fight wouldn’t end well for the animals.

  They continued to search until they stood close to where the chase began. A slight movement drew Ryne’s attention. His gaze crossed an area that did not quite fit within the leaves and brush. An aura bloomed with light in patterns he recognized, but he pretended not to see.

  “Mariel’s returned,” Sakari said.

  “Yes. I meant to ask you on the mountain. Have you ever seen an aura like hers?”

  “Besides yours? No.”

  Ryne’s eyes narrowed at Sakari’s answer. He was about to speak when an unusual sound fluttered behind them. The noises of the forest ceased. Moments later, the sound repeated from behind the roots of one of the biggest trees.

  A soft whimper.

  They looked at each other and turned away from Mariel’s aura. The noise issued again, followed by shushing sounds. Ryne and Sakari split apart and crept closer.

  A figure leaped from behind the roots, hands flashing. Several daggers flew through the air.

  Sakari rolled to one side, three blades cutting the air where he once stood.

  Three other daggers sped toward Ryne. He swung his sword swung up, batted them away with loud pings, and sheathed the weapon in the same motion.

  Hands gripping two matching, wide-bladed knives, an Alzari woman stood before them, her hair shorn short like all the others of her clan. War paint hid her face. Keeping her elbows squared with her arms extended in front of her, one above the other, she held the knives flush against her forearms. The foot-long serrated blades pointed outwards, steel glinting as she swayed from side to side. Blood stained the right shoulder of her tight green shirt. Reddish-brown crusted her forearm. Her lithe body trembled, and dark circles rimmed her wild eyes, her gaze shifting from Ryne to Sakari.

  Several dozen feet behind the woman, three new lapras crept through the trees. Whimpers rose from the roots in the animals’ path. Before the sounds subsided, she attacked.

  The woman flowed toward the closest threat, Sakari. He extended his arm with his unsheathed sword held by the middle, chest-high, between him and the assassin. Her blades spun upright in her hands as she swept in.

  The woman’s hands flickered with lightning speed. She attacked low, her blades slicing at Sakari’s thighs. With a subtle shift of his body, he dodged. In the same motion, her knives swept up toward his face. Sakari leaned away from the strokes, and they swished through empty space.

  The assassin’s blades flashed again, hurtling down at Sakari’s now exposed midsection. He sucked in his stomach and chest, the weapons missing flesh by a breath and slicing his shirt instead.

  The Alzari woman continued her attack, her hands in perpetual motion. She spun and sliced, up and down, left to right. Her feet took tiny steps through the damp leaves as if she danced.

  Dodging every attack, Sakari danced with her. Not once did he unsheathe his sword.

  The woman’s brow furrowed, and she growled. Her attacks sped faster and faster. A storm of movement.

  Yet, for all her attacks, she didn’t use the Stances like the other Alzari they encountered. Her attacks were basic, and only once or twice did Ryne notice a Style. Not one blow touched Sakari’s flesh.

  Under her marred war paint, Ryne could see her jaws clench. Now she grunted with each missed attack, her breaths laboring. Fresh blood showed through the shoulder of her shirt.

  The blows slowed, and there was a brief respite as the woman paused. She no longer held her weakened arm in a fully poised position. Instead, she tried to hide that she cradled it with the other. Sweat flowed freely down her face. Her good hand edged up until she wiped her forehead.

  In that instant, Sakari darted in.

  Still sheathed, his sword rammed into her stomach. She gasped, the air knocked out of her. With the same motion, he landed a spinning kick to her head. As his leg swung down from the kick, his fist shot out and slammed into her bloodied shoulder.

  She staggered, her knives falling from limp hands. Sakari caught her before she hit the ground and eased her onto the leaves.

  Whispers upon the wind were Ryne’s only warning. He dodged three small daggers that split the air within an inch of him.

  The Alzari assassin from earlier sprinted among the trees toward him. Two blades spun up into his hands.

  The whimpers from behind the roots increased. They became a full-throated baby’s bawling.

  Ryne reached for his sword and ran toward the roots.

  The Alzari woman screamed.

  CHAPTER 20

  Ryne landed behind the tree roots, sheathed sword in hand. Below him, against a corner where two large roots met, huddled two children. One was a young boy, no older than three or four, and the other, a crying baby, both dirty and disheveled. The boy’s eyes bulged from their sockets, staring past him.

  Spinning away from the children, Ryne unsheathed his greatsword and swung up. The blade took the first lapra’s head with one blow while the second creature was dashing in, dripping jaws agape. Ryne’s sword flashed down as part of the first motion and another head fell. Green, foul smelling blood spurted into the air in viscous jets. The third lapra turned tail and fled.

  The Alzari jumped over the roots behind Ryne. Blades bared, he placed himself between Ryne and the crying children.

  Ryne turned to face the man with his palm upraised. “I mean you and yours no harm.” With a flick of his wrist, he shed the blood from the sword before returning it to its scabbard.

  Short for an Ostanian, but like any other Alzari, rife with languid muscles and sinew rippling beneath his fitted clothes, the assassin swayed from side to side. Eyes like burnished gold s
tared out from behind the war paint. His daggers remained raised, but he kept silent, gaze flickering from side to side.

  “Sakari, let her up,” Ryne commanded.

  Sakari lifted his foot from the woman and stepped back. She crawled to her feet, her right arm limp as she bent and picked up her knives, sliding them into sheaths at her hips. Hands on her stomach, she limped over to the roots.

  The Alzari male’s eyes shifted from Ryne to her. Flinging a leg up onto the root, she attempted to crawl over, her body leaning precariously to one side. The man’s hands flashed, and his knives dropped into hidden sheaths along his forearm. Before the woman fell to the ground, he caught her and set her down next to the crying children.

  “Why are you out here?” Ryne asked in a level voice. “This is well outside your territory. Why are children with you?”

  Groaning, the woman propped herself up beside the infants, cradling the baby in her arms as the young boy stumbled over and hugged her. Their sobs dwindled to whimpers. The Alzari male kept himself between the woman and Ryne, his gaze flashing to Sakari for a moment before his attention returned to Ryne.

  “He won’t hurt you,” Ryne said reassuringly. “Neither of us will. Why’d you attack us?”

  Eyes hardening, the man crossed his arms. “You chased me. I had to protect my family.” His voice was smooth and soft.

  “You wanted us to chase you, and we did. Throwing the daggers was something else entirely.” Ryne tilted his head toward Sakari. “My friend only defended himself against your mistress.”

  The Alzari’s lips pursed. “Melina thought you were going to kill us. Try to claim our heads for bounty. Your reputation precedes you among our clan, bounty hunter. You’re Ryne the Shadeslayer or for some, the Deathbringer.” He nodded toward Sakari. “And he’s Sakari the Stone. Together you’re unbeatable.”

  “And yet, we didn’t wound either of you once,” Ryne countered.

  The assassin nodded and uncrossed his arms. “I’m Jaecar. Our little boy is Kass. Our baby girl is Blas. Thank you for saving their lives. We’re forever indebted to you.” He bowed to Ryne.

  Lines creased Ryne’s brow. He revealed their names. He knew the truth of such a revelation. A sign of trust. Ryne’s gaze followed Kass’ to the animals’ remains. Already, tiny foragers, worms, and many-legged insects gorged on the dead animals. The boy glanced wonderingly at Ryne while his sister quieted and played with her mother’s face.

  Finally, Ryne spoke, “It’s nothing. I did what any man with honor would do.”

  Jaecar’s lips twitched. “It’s strange hearing such from you.”

  “And that means?”

  “I’ve watched you kill from afar for many years. Like the storms, you didn’t separate the young from the old or woman from man when you killed. Now you speak of honor and spare our lives.” Jaecar gestured to himself and his family.

  The pain of memory burned in Ryne’s chest. Another time, another life. He shrugged. “Maybe today the gods shine on you.”

  “Then I shall remember to praise Humelen,” Jaecar whispered.

  Overhead, thunder rumbled. The forest already no brighter than early dawn, darkened. Seen through gaps in the canopy, gray clouds blanketed the sky in rolling waves. Lightning illuminated the thunderheads and the leaves and vines a mild blue. Through the same gaps, rain fell. Jaecar’s aura appeared to give off a subtle shift and grow darker, but the next instant, it was whole and perfectly normal again. Ryne squinted, but there was no change, so he dismissed it as the effects of the storm.

  “Come,” Jaecar said. “We have a shelter not far from here.”

  Jaecar helped Melina to her feet before picking up Kass. Without a backward glance, he made his way deeper into the forest. Ryne nodded to Sakari, and they followed.

  Rain smattered harder and harder as they trekked through the evergreens, the water a welcome respite in the baking forest. Breathing in deep, Ryne savored the rich earthy smells the downpour imparted.

  “There’s a woman following you,” Jaecar stated without looking behind.

  “I know.” Ryne gazed out into the dim forest where Mariel’s light aura hovered at the edge of his range. “I’m surprised you haven’t killed her.”

  Jaecar chuckled. “I would say the same about you. For me, it wasn’t from a lack of effort.” He raised his shoulders. “She has a rockhound with her. It’s what has the lapras so upset.”

  Ryne frowned and glanced as Sakari. “It was chasing her?”

  “No. Not at all. This woman speaks to the beast. It attacked a few lapras that threatened her. They couldn’t take her, so I guess they thought me and mine would be easier.”

  “Hmmm,” Ryne said, masking his surprise. What Forian had said was true after all. Mariel could tame animals. The confirmation brought his suspicions roaring to the surface. He bit back on the sudden anger before it bloomed into something much worse.

  “We’re here,” Jaecar announced.

  They arrived at an ancient rosewood that dwarfed any others close by. The trunk spanned twenty paces across and leaned slightly to one side, its massive buttress roots stretching across the ground in rounded humps. Jaecar passed Kass to his mother and strode to the side the tree tilted toward where small branches and vines hung in a thick mass. After dragging the foliage away, he revealed a hollow, the size of a tiny room, carved into the trunk. Inspecting it briefly, he ushered Melina inside.

  The small room contained piled dry leaves, several blankets, an iron bucket filled with water, and two saddlebags. Two swords leaned against the dark brown bark. Melina eased into a corner and laid the baby down with care. Blas’ eyes were closed in a contented sleep. Kass snuggled next to his sister.

  Ryne’s hand made an involuntary clench at the sight of the enclosure. A memory blossomed of him locked in a cell just as small by the Tribunal’s command. Pain from long healed lashes tore across his back and sides as if he suffered the whipping right there and then. Stepping away from the trunk, he closed his eyes, and allowed the pattering rain to fall on him.

  “You still haven’t told me why you’re out here,” Ryne asked as he calmed.

  Jaecar watched his family for a moment more before he turned to Ryne. “Our clanhold was destroyed.”

  “What?” Ryne brushed water from his eyes and returned under the trunk’s shelter.

  “I don’t know how many survived or if any others did. We were lucky to escape.”

  “Your entire clanhold?” How?” Ryne found it difficult to picture anyone destroying an Alzari clanhold. Even the artisans among them fought with enough skill to be worth three soldiers in any other army.

  Jaecar’s eyes shone wetly as he spoke. “They came in the dead of night. I had started Kass on his survival training, so we were in the woods. I smelled the smoke and heard the fighting. Melina, she always comes with me, hates to be alone. Even when she was pregnant she helped on missions. I sent her away with the children to one of our secret places like this one, and I went to see what was happening. When I reached the clanhold, it crawled with soldiers. Our clansmen had no chance. These invaders were dressed in all black armor I’ve never seen before. They didn’t fight as well as we, but they were too many. For every clan member, there must have been five to ten men. At first, I thought we had a chance to beat them back. But then I noticed they were not all men.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My clansmen tried to hack their way through. But our weapons had little effect unless they took a head or a leg.”

  Ryne’s body stiffened. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I would never forget such. No one who took part in the War of the Remnants could.”

  Ryne agreed with an absentminded nod. Could this be the reason for Halvor’s warning? One slipping by he could understand, but how could an entire army bypass his wards. How did they survive where I almost died?

  “If it had been men alone,” Jaecar continued, voice steeped in melancholy, “most of our people would have fled and us
ed their skills to hide. Indeed some tried. Those were among the first caught. I watched from among the tree branches as clansmen used the Forms to hide themselves. Horns sounded and wraithwolves appeared by the hundreds. The shadelings tracked each and every use of Mater and revealed those who hid. Against such a force, not even the Eztezian warriors of legend could have held.” Jaecar’s lips trembled.

  Ryne almost asked if the assassin could be mistaken, but he knew better. The look on Jaecar’s face spoke for itself. Even if he hadn't seen the beasts when he found the missing villagers, he would've believed the man. He exhaled deeply, his hand folding into a fist.

  Jaecar sighed and hunched into himself. “At that point I fled among the trees making sure not to use the Forms. It’s why when you chased I didn’t use them to hide. I dreaded drawing the creatures here.”

  “Why didn’t you go warn the other clanholds?” Ryne asked.

  “I thought about it, but first I used the lantums to scale a great tree.” Jaecar gestured to the large vines entwined around the trunks and branches. “There was smoke coming from the other holds within the Scattered Hills. Farther south, I saw more smoke, toward the Fretian Woods. I decided the safest way was here. So, I took my family and ran and have been doing so ever since. I’m going to the Vallum of Light and beyond if I have to.”

  Ryne’s thoughts whirled. Jaecar’ revelation explained the smoke he saw from Nevermore. Still, for all six clanholds to be defeated, the numbers required to accomplish such a feat would have to be staggering. “Do you think some among your people knew they were coming?”

  Golden eyes becoming glittering beads, Jaecar took a step back. “You’re suggesting we were betrayed by our own. No, I refuse to believe it. Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “There were two Alzari deep within the Fretian. They bore the mark of Amuni’s Children. They were also accompanied by an infected lapra.”

  “I know nothing of this. The taming of infected lapra is an old thing. Some say they were once used to fight the shade.”

  Ryne allowed himself to ponder what the man said, staring off into the forest. Something about his words nagged at Ryne like a gnat. The flash thunderstorm finished spitting its torrent, and water runoff played a distant staccato as it pattered to the ground from leaves.