by Simpson, Terry C. ; Wilson-Viola, D Kai; Ordonez Arias, Gonzalo
“Let me guess, you could not muster a good enough score to be admitted to one of our Mysteras.” Galiana said, unblinking. “So you resort to snide remarks in hopes you can bruise a Matus’ pride while your envy is plain to see.” She shook her head in disdain.
Giomar smiled mirthlessly. “I have no envy toward the Matii. You’re as good as any other watch dog. You keep the nobility safe from the other dregs of society. You enforce the iron rule of the Tribunal and maintain the blessings of the Streamean temples. I simply feel you should be treated no different than a wolf hound. Once its day is done, the animal needs to be put to pasture. Why King Emory allows your school in Sendeth is beyond me. And if you are still a Shin, rather than one of these so called Teachers,” he almost spat the last words, “tell me, why are you in Eldanhill? There are no nobles to be protected in this useless town.”
“Despite what you may think, it is an Ashishin’s duty to represent all. Whether they are lowly peasants, soldiers led by an overzealous Captain, or the King himself. Everyone is afforded the same protection and counsel,” Galiana said.
The lines about his eyes tightened, and a fire flickered in them for a brief second. Good, now he knows where I stand as far as he and King Emory are concerned.
The dark haired man schooled his face to calm as he replied, “It seems the King’s name does not ring out as it should within the Whitewater Falls despite it being part of Sendeth.”
“The people here do not take kindly to badgering, not even from the King’s men.”
“Are you saying their refusal was warranted?”
“I’m saying Whitewater Falls folk and those in Eldanhill in particular have provided more than their fair share to the King’s coffers. That has never changed. Not when they suffered the worst winter storms in years or when pestilence struck their crops. As such, they should be treated with respect. Yet, you approached them with hostility and demands as if they were beggars and thieves. What did you expect? Wine, women, and song?”
Giomar shrugged, but the lines about his eyes tightened. “I expected them to obey. Everyone faces trials and tribulations, but there’s one defining constant. This entire area is within Sendeth’s borders, and thus under the King’s rule. I am but an extension of the King’s arm, and he decreed I should recruit, so I obey.”
“Is that the excuse you used for trying to secretly recruit Eldanhill’s youth without their parents’ permission?”
“You’re all part of Sendeth, aren’t you?”
“I see you miss my point or you are simply a blind fool. I’m positive King Emory advised you of my presence here. But, you decided to do as you wished in his name. Only idiocy could promote such an action.”
Giomar scowled, his face becoming a dark shade of red. “I would watch my mouth if I were you. The Tribunal has decreed they will not interfere with the local government within the kingdoms, and this is a local matter, Ashishin.” He hawked and spat to the side. “My orders were to seek new recruits, and I will leave with as many as I deem necessary.”
“About new recruits,” Shin Galiana held the man’s gaze and hardened her voice, “You will not recruit Eldanhill folk.” She drew herself up until she no longer leaned on her staff. Giomar’s eyes widened. “I shall send word to the capital to address the people’s concerns about recruitment. You and your men can make yourselves useful by keeping Eldanhill safe in the meantime. I’m sure you have heard the rumors.”
Giomar’s body stiffened at her command, and he strode to the pavilion’s other side. “Galiana, is this the Council’s decision?” The air in the tent stilled as he turned to face her, his eyes blue ice, his hands balled into fists. “If so, it is treason against the realm to deny a royal decree.”
“Treason?” Curling her lips in as contemptuous a smile as she could manage, she allowed Giomar’s anger to wash over her. “Captain, is it? You seem to have lofty goals for a man of your rank. Well, I suggest you allow me to assist you with them.”
“Gal—”
She waved her hand and cut him off. “The decision was made by me, Ashishin Galiana Calestis as the Tribunal’s representative here in Eldanhill.” She refused to allow the man any attempt to recover. He needed to be humiliated. “Should you,” she paused, pointing a finger at the man, “choose to meddle in the Tribunal’s affairs, rather than provide Eldanhill with protection, you will feel mine and their wrath.”
“How dare—”
“Before you utter another word, Giomar.” She realized now her words nor her uniform would be enough. She gave the essences around them a subtle touch. “You say you possess a royal decree, yes?”
Giomar’s face bloomed almost purple with the struggle to restrain himself. He gave her a single nod.
“Good. You should know every decree bears the Seal of Light, approved and signed by the Tribunal. Yes?” She dipped her head slightly. The man nodded, his skin flushed as if he was choking. “Every Royal decree contains instructions on who could override its order and who should be treated with as much respect as the King himself. I suggest you look at your Seal.”
As she spoke, she made a delicate Forging. A slight amount of water from one of the pitchers on his table, a tiny amount of dust to give it substance, and the singular shade she could touch to give her creation its color.
Giomar reached among the maps on the table and picked up the half-rolled sheet of glossy paper she’d noticed earlier. Unrolling the lower part, he uncovered the Seal and the names listed there. His eyes narrowed, and then he gaped.
“Overstep your bounds Giomar, and you shall answer to me,” Shin Galiana said in a soft tone.
“Yes, Blessed High Shin. My humble apologies, Blessed High Shin.” Giomar’s words almost tripped over each other with not a single hint of divisiveness attached. His shoulders slumped, and he looked as if he lost a foot or more in height.
Galiana smiled. With Giomar’s spirit broken, her task became simple. “Now, here is what you shall do. This year we sent an unusually large amount of kinai wine and juice to King Emory. As the Dosteri have decided to slay Sendethi merchants, we would not want one of our own to be mistaken as such. You would not want them to lay their hands on Lord Loriz after the failure of the negotiations. Yes?”
Giomar’s face blanched. He nodded weakly.
Galiana continued, her voice soft but nonetheless filled with the authority the Captain expected. “You will leave Eldanhill at once and proceed toward Randane to escort the Lord as normal. Your purpose will be twofold. See to his safety and make sure the Eldan Road is safe from here to the capital, sending men to escort any of our people you may meet on the road. You will maintain the King’s peace for at least two weeks.”
“Yes, Blessed High Shin,” Giomar answered as if in a trance, his gaze locked on the Seal.
Now, for the most important and delicate part. “You will forget we had this conversation or that my name is on the Seal. When asked you will state your actions are a part of your orders to strengthen the King’s regiment.” She couldn’t help but smile. The man’s own blind loyalty would be his undoing.
“I hear and obey, High One,” Giomar intoned. He bowed from his waist.
Galiana gave him a mere dip of her head and strode from the tent.
She left the stunned man still staring at where he thought he saw her name signed after the King’s on the royal decree.
CHAPTER 29
Ancel and Ryne retreated from the army of shadelings surrounding them. Ten thousand throats wailed. The army washed over them in a black wave.
Irmina started awake. Yet, she couldn’t see. No, that wasn’t entirely true. She could see, but her eyes wouldn’t open. Raising her brow to force her lids apart made no difference. They refused to budge. Brightness shone through the skin of her lids as if someone held a torch inches above her eyes. She would’ve pried them open with her fingers if her hands didn’t also refuse to do as she bid. With each failure, her heart raced, and her breaths came in short, panicked gasps.
Take a hold of yourself, woman. She reached for that cold place deep within her mind and found calm.
Her concern drifted to the rest of her body. She was in her small clothes. From the smell, someone had changed her bandages. The wounds no longer lanced with pain as they did earlier, and their ache was now a dull throb. Something soft, maybe layered furs or rugs, lay beneath her, a blanket hugged her body, and a pillow cushioned her head. She again attempted to open her eyes, but managed no more than a flutter. When she tried to push up onto her elbows, she failed.
She would have frowned if she could. The last she remembered, she, Ormand, and two surviving Dagodin Knights were fleeing toward the Vallum of Light. Why am I now in a bed? Attempting to conjure a memory of how she arrived here proved futile. Something rustled above her. She held her breath. Fingers like old leather stroked her face.
“Shin Irmina, you must rest. Go back to sleep,” commanded a motherly voice tinged with steel.
Irmina didn’t recognize the woman. In her mind, she frowned. No one commands me. She made another attempt to rise to her elbows and tell this person as much. She barely managed to twitch a few fingers and her leg. Nothing more. Helplessness overwhelmed her. Unbidden tears welled up in her eyes, and her mind drifted to Ancel. She wished he was there to help.
“You will be fine, young Shin. I will take good care of you. Rest,” the woman coaxed.
The voice sounded so sincere, so tender, Irmina couldn’t help the contented smile that played across her lips. She obeyed. The brightness outside her eyelids faded.
Irmina woke from another fitful dream. This time, her eyes eased open. Morning sunlight drifted through a window across from where she lay upon a few soft furs. Her wounds no longer ached, and she felt no stiffness. The room smelled of old blood, herbs and mending. The odor reminded her of Galiana’s hospice back in Eldanhill.
Glancing down, she saw she was now dressed in the crimson and gold uniform of a Raijin. Her legs were covered in tight leathers that reached high up her thighs, and a leather skirt split on both sides to give an apron like effect covered her waist and loins. A belt with several divya discs to collect and store Mater kept the skirt in place. Light, elaborately crafted gold and red chainmail hid her breasts, but left her stomach exposed for ease of movement. The same pliant armor—rerebrace on the upper arm and vambrace on the lower, crafted as one with plate mail at the elbow for added protection—covered her arms up to her finger-less leather gloves.
“Ah,” the motherly voice called, “Finally, you wake from your long rest.”
Instinct taking over, Irmina reached for her sword but found nothing.
The voice chuckled. “Your weapon and your Ashishin and Raijin pins are over here. You may take them at your leisure.”
Irmina sat up with a grimace.
Sitting in a chair on the other side of the room was a woman dressed in homespun linen. She was so old she appeared more like one of the ancients or crones from a story. What hair she did have was as white as sun bleached bones and hung in sparse wisps about her wrinkled face. Her bald patches bore speckled brown splotches, some the size of a coin. Her arms were frail things that looked as if they belonged on some featherless bird. Her skin had the appearance of old, cracked leather.
“Who are you?” Irmina asked, eyes narrowing into slits.
“Only the person who saved you, dearest Shin.” The old crone’s words broke into a toothless cackle, her watery white eyes shifting unnaturally.
Irmina fought the apprehension knotting her stomach. “No. Your name,” she said, trying to sound braver than she felt as she studied the woman. Whenever their gazes met, Irmina glanced away. Stop it. Look her in the eye.
“Names are of no importance, but if you must, you can call me Tae.” She flung Irmina’s sword and pins to her with a strength beyond her apparent fragility.
They landed next to Irmina. She eased her hand over until it rested on the comfort of sword’s pommel. Her gaze still locked on the woman, she picked up the weapon and the insignias. Savoring the feel of the hilt against her palm, she stood, belted on the scabbard and stuck the pins to the leather patch woven into the pliant chainmail pauldrons at her shoulder. As she did so, visions from her dreams assaulted her. Each appeared more real than the next. From her office, to the shadelings’ attack, the fight with Jaecar, her Forgings and her flight from Ranoda. Recognition of each grew. They were no mere visions, she realized, they were real. Her head throbbed.
“Where am I?” Irmina massaged her temple through the mass of her dark hair.
“You’re somewhere safe.”
“How long have I been here? And where are my men?”
“Long enough,” Tae said. “As for your men…” Her smile was a dark slit. “They’re dead. They gave their lives for you.”
Irmina stiffened, ice freezing her veins with Tae’s words. “What do you mean?”
“Think about it,” Tae said. “I know you remember. You were dying. So were they. You needed to live. They didn’t. So I did as needed. I fed them to you.”
Irmina’s stomach lurched, and bile rushed up into her mouth in a bitter torrent. Retching, she bent over. No. This woman had to mean something different. Right hand tight around her sword’s hilt, Irmina wiped the acrid taste from her mouth with her left.
When she managed to speak, Irmina’s voice was hoarse and cracked. “Speak so I can understand, woman. How do you mean, you fed them to me?” She opened her Matersense. A tingle of anticipation tugged at her as she prepared to Forge.
Around the room, the essences beckoned. She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her mouth as her sight passed over Tae. A staggering mass of essences gathered about the woman. More than she’d ever seen even around Jerem when he touched the elements.
Tae gave a knowing smirk. “You nor your men didn’t escape. You were allowed to go. A test of sorts to see how well the shade’s weapons worked. You were all poisoned by the shade’s taint. You were either going to die and be used as fodder, or you yourself were going to be transformed into shadelings.”
“Impossible,” Irmina managed to whisper, her voice a disembodied shell of itself. The news of shadeling creation caused the essences she saw around the old woman to shatter into a million pieces as she lost her grip on her Matersense.
“Who’s to say what’s possible? Be that as it may. That’s where you were headed, or into the belly of the beast.”
Somehow, Irmina found a breath despite the lump caught in her throat. “I-If this is true, then h-how did you save me? Why couldn’t you save them?”
“Aha. There lies the question. You needed an infusion of sela essence to drive the taint from your body. It didn’t matter where it came from, as long as you received it. I couldn’t save you all, so I did the most prudent thing. I fed their sela to you.”
“You’re—” Irmina wheezed, before she sitting down flat on the furs, any semblance of reason or coherence fleeing her mind. She clawed for a sense of calm to grasp the elements again, but her dread had a steel grip on her senses.
“A daemon? A Skadwaz? Fear not my dear, I’m neither.”
Irmina could only sit and stare. Finally, she found words. “Then how…?”
“It’s an ancient art.” Tae chuckled. “I would say lost, but that wouldn’t be true would it? Well, as you see, I’m very old.” Tae’s eyes changed colors rapidly from gold to green to white to blue.
Irmina fought against the urge to crawl away, but she couldn’t help cringing as the memory of Sakari’s eyes came to life. Something inside her made her believe Tae. Why would the woman save her only to kill her now? At last, when she found a sense of calm, she asked, “Why has no one used such a skill before?”
Tae arched an eyebrow at her. “You’re presumptuous, aren’t you? Who says no one has? If you could do it, you could
live for a thousand years.”
Irmina covered her open mouth with her hand. “You’re speaking about the Tribunal aren’t you? An-And the Eldanhill Council leaders.”
Both of Tae’s eyebrows rose. “Am I?”
“Are you?”
“Infusions of Mater could accomplish the same thing. If you knew how to make people ingest enough. Even those who couldn’t possibly touch the elements.” Tae smiled wickedly, her brown gums failing to come together, leaving a dark hole in her mouth.
Irmina frowned. What could she be hinting at? She’d discovered just how old the members of Eldanhill’s Council and members of the Tribunal were. Some could be traced back at least a millennia according to the records she’d smuggled from among the Pathfinders. How they’d accomplished such a feat was unclear. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because one day soon, my dear Shin, you will need to use this knowledge to save many lives.”
“When? What can I do against Matii who are practically immortal.”
Tae chortled, a carefree rasp of a sound of someone trying to hide amusement but failing. “Dear, dear one.” She shook her head, her mouth split again in a morbid grin. “No one is immortal. Hard to kill? Yes. Immortal? No.” She chortled again. “Relieve a person of their head or their heart. No one can survive that. Destroying their brain works just as well too.” She subsided to a low chuckle before she cut off.
Irmina’s expression soured. “If it’s so simple why don’t you do it? Why tell me?”
“Because my part in this is done for now. As for you, you’re special as you well know. As your parents and much of your lineage were before you. It’s why the shade sought them out.”
Irmina trembled with the mention of her parents in the same breath as the shade. Her anger lent her strength. “What do you know of them?” she spat. “They walked in the Ilumni’s light and were murdered to hide the Tribunal’s secrets.”
