by Simpson, Terry C. ; Wilson-Viola, D Kai; Ordonez Arias, Gonzalo
“Oh?” Varick removed his sword and strode over to a bedroll, the only other contents in the tent. “The gods work in strange ways. Before I received the message from the Tribunal, I planned to come to Carn—.”
Ryne took a deep breath at the mention of his home, his hand tightening on his sword.
“I’m sorry,” Varick said. “I forgot. You feel like talking about it?” He carefully lay his sword down on the bedroll.
“Not much to talk about. They didn’t leave anyone alive. Not much different than what I’ve done in the past.”
“You shouldn’t compare yourself to them. You’ve always fought for the light, for Ilumni.” Varick headed to the table and its maps. “There’s nothing but darkness in what they do. We’ve both seen it, Ryne. They have to be stopped, or else we all fall.”
Stooping slightly, Ryne moved close to the tent’s center to better accommodate his size. “I just don’t understand the point to all of this. The killings, the wars. Is it just for territory? For power? If this is all part of a divine battle in preparation for the day the seals break, wouldn’t Amuni secure his powerbase in Hydae first, before he tried to claim Denestia? What of the other gods? Where do they fit in? If Denestia is Ilumni’s, why does it seem we’re always defending? When do we attack? Is this really about divinity or just some story drawn up for us to spill blood so one kingdom can claim another in the name of religion?”
Varick remained silent for a moment. “You’re asking questions I can’t answer. I’m just a soldier who’s been fighting for too long. The Tribunal points, I attack. This is the way things have always been.”
“You ever questioned it?”
“Question who?” Varick grunted. “The Tribunal? That’s not my place. I’m not you. I can’t defy them. If I could kill a Pathfinder, maybe. But look where doing so got you. My tasks are simple. I see a threat, and I respond. We’ve both seen enough to know they’re greater powers at work here. You’ve always sought answers since I met you, Ryne. More answers than most. You say because you can’t remember who or what you are. Yet, even after your pardon, you refused to go whenever the Tribunal asked for an audience. I’ve backed you in the past against them, but you’ve never said wh—”
“Because it’s not up for discussion.” Ryne’s hands clenched around his sword once more. After all these years, Varick was still insistent. “The High Ashishin Tribunal is not all pure like they make people believe.”
Varick shrugged. “None of us are. But we do what we must, as they do what they must. I don’t think you’ll ever get the answers you seek without going to them. Demand bravery by conquering your fear. Remember? It doesn’t only apply to grooming troops. Hiding across the Vallum will only work for so long. Sooner or later, you’ll have to go to them.”
“Well, let’s just hope it’s later. I’ll continue searching for my answers elsewhere. Speaking of which, why were you looking for me?”
“Well, there’s two parts to that. First, The Tribunal has sent several legions across the Vallum in the past few months alone. Many of them raw recruits. Trained Dagodin, yes, but hearing what I did today, training will only take them so far. So—”
“So you were going to ask me to train them, or at least to help.” Ryne smiled. This fit what he needed perfectly. A glimmer of vengeance to come warmed his insides. “How’s the Tribunal feel about that?”
Varick gave Ryne a sidelong glance and a smirk.
“I see. What’s the second reason?”
“Not only did they dispatch these new legions but they also ordered all Dagodin Imbuers to begin crafting divya.” Varick paced back and forth from the table to a cot in the corner. “It really became strange when they managed to drag Dagodin Lucina Adler from wherever she retired to train these new Imbuers.”
Ryne frowned. “The Lucina Adler?”
“Yes.”
“Too much of a coincidence. It reeks of the Tribunal knowing what was about to happen here. Always plotting,” Ryne mused, stroking his scars.
Varick nodded in agreement. “Even so, once I heard they’d dragged her from wherever she was hiding, I thought of you. She’s one of the few people who may be able to tell you the origins of your weapon. And not go running back to the Tribunal, that is.”
Ryne perked up, possibilities flitting through his head. “So where can I find her?”
“She’s in Felan Mark. I figured it being in Ostania would give you a better chance to talk to her before anyone could do something about it.”
“Why would they send her all the way there?”
Varick’s face brightened. “Oh, I don’t know. Some commander reported he needed the weapons as soon as possible. The Tribunal agreed.”
Ryne couldn’t help his grin. Varick had a way of seeing he got things done just the way he wanted them. Ryne’s face grew serious. “You’ll need those divya more than you know.”
“Really?”
Drawing a deep breath, Ryne told him what had happened. He started with Mariel then continued on with the missing villagers, the murdered men, the golden-haired stranger, the infected lapra, the Alzari, the wraithwolves found in the woods, the darkwraiths and his battle. He left out Halvor and the Entosis.
Varick’s expression went from wide-eyed shock to disgust until his brow furrowed tightly. “Mariel, you say? I almost forgot. There was a third reason I needed to see you. A couple months before I left the Vallum, there was a slim, dark haired woman with gold eyes like an eagle's looking for you. Claimed she was a Devout named Mariel. I had one of my men look into it. She was really an Ashishin named Irmina, well on her way to becoming a Raijin. One of the Tribunal's favorites or so I’ve been told.”
Ryne ground his teeth. Not only was the woman an Ashishin, but she was training to be a member of one of the deadliest assassin corps in Granadia. I knew I should’ve killed her.
CHAPTER 36
From Irmina’s vantage point atop a hill, travelers and soldiers alike approaching the main fort appeared as small colored figures dwarfed by the Vallum of Light’s size. In groups, they disappeared into the two-hundred foot wide mouth of the passage that served as the only exit or entrance through the wall. The Vallum itself stretched three hundred feet into the air, its white alabaster, feldspar, and steel, shining with an ethereal glow. Irmina knew the radiance for what it was—light and fire essences imbued into the structure.
In truth, the fort was two Bastions—Hope and Forlorn—like every other Bastion named for whatever the High Ashishin who undertook their construction felt they represented. The oval edifices, with their lines of crenels separated twenty-five feet between each, extended another hundred feet above the Vallum, and were positioned to the left and right of the entrance to and from Ostania proper. Not that the land spanning from the Vallum west to the Sea of Swirls was not part of Ostania, but as that swath was currently under Tribunal rule, it was often considered Granadian territory. The fact the local Ostanian kingdoms disagreed with such considerations was of no consequence.
As the setting sun painted wispy clouds purple and orange, Irmina rode down from the hills toward the throng of travelers heading to and from locations beyond the Vallum. Those without an armed escort were already preparing camps not far from the wall’s protection. Wagons rolled along, and those on horses, dartan or slainen galloped by those on foot in an attempt to reach the gates before the call to close the entrance sounded.
The activity around her droned on in an incomprehensible racket. Peoples in fashions she didn’t recognize, various skin colors from pale Granadians to ebony Cardians, and languages and dialects she couldn’t begin to understand, journeyed the wide road. Quick bows came from those who glanced up and saw Irmina’s crimson Ashishin uniform as Misty sped by.
Irmina followed the path set aside for nobility and military, red armored Dagodin greeting her with salutes. As she passed the first massive gate set into the wall, Irmina cringed. Unlike other gates, this one was all stone—a part of the wall—and required an Ash
ishin to trigger the wards that closed and opened it. She had once seen what would happen to those caught between when the massive slabs slid together. Dark red splotches marked the most recent occurrence.
Neither lamp nor lightstone lit the passage, but the glow from the essences within the structure made the inside as bright as early afternoon. Murder-holes and arrow slits dotted the walls and the bridge above that spanned between the two Bastions. With a soft trill, Irmina urged Misty to go faster. Minutes later, they crossed the five hundred foot tunnel and out into the open air. Tension eased from Irmina’s shoulders, and she allowed herself a deep breath.
Ignoring the people either heading to the closest encampments of travelers or continuing toward the town in the distance, Irmina veered right. Spread below in a vast field were thousands of tents, many with the Lightstorm insignia flying above. Barked orders, the clash of steel, and the synchronized stomp from Dagodin practicing formations rolled through the air. She rode abreast the Vallum, bathed in its white glow, until she reached the rounded granite structure where the Bastion Forlorn began. The Dagodin outside snapped to attention as she dismounted and dropped Misty’s reins over one of many hooked spikes set into the wall.
The gravity of the news she brought crawled within her as she entered the building. Before long, her hurried footsteps became a run. Several winding stairs later, she reached the well-guarded communication center.
The room’s rough-hewn, feldspar and steel blocks rose into a dome far above her head. As with the passage, no lamps hung along the walls, but the room was bright all the same. A lone man, with a round, too-smooth face, wearing a long robe with colorful sashes embroidered in diagonal patterns that identified him as an Ashishin Herald studied the message map on the floor.
This was not her first time inside a Bastion, but she still found herself muttering prayers to Ilumni and casting glances at the glowing walls around her. Sometimes, the light felt like a great weight upon her, and she would rub her shoulders. The feeling diminished the longer she remained inside the Bastion. She waited to the side as the Herald studied the message map. Every so often, he stopped to stroke his thin, forked beard, which was in odd counterpoint to his cheeks and even rounder bald head.
Created from metal, wood, and stone, the map spanned almost the entire floor. Life-like replicas of the cities and other important locations jutted into the air inches off the stone. They appeared real and solid as if she could reach out and touch them. If she did, her hands would just pass through them. Irmina didn’t need to open her Matersense to see that an intricate Forge created the effect. Like almost everything else within the Bastion, the message map was a divya.
Lightstones in various colors gave off a sharp gleam, highlighting the major cities in Granadia. Others matched the location of every Bastion along the Vallum as well as those built within Granadia. Lesser lights between the cities moved on their own accord, following Envoys’ movements. Across the entire message system, every map and their stones were designed from the same divya. This intricate network never ceased to amaze her.
Irmina made sure to remain a few feet from the map. Heralds took their jobs to heart and considered it blasphemous for anyone not of their own calling to tread upon their work. She’d thought about becoming a Herald once, until her calling showed her another path.
The man continued to study the map, ignoring her presence. Every time he moved, his robes flowed around him and made the sashes appear to swirl all the way to just below his waist. Irmina tapped her foot and coughed.
Herald Bodo looked up from the map. “Ah. Shin Irmina.” He signaled to the two Dagodin standing just inside the door. “Leave us and close the door behind you.” The men bowed and did as asked. Bodo waited a moment with his eyes closed. When he opened them again, he took her in with a wry smile and a twinkle in his silver-blue eyes. “I see you’ve done away with that farce of a Devout uniform. Does Jerem approve or will I be visiting you chained to a wall? I’m sure the old coot must have had a heart attack.”
Irmina smiled. Bodo was one of few she ever heard speak of her master in anything close to affection. Most others simply cowered. “He doesn’t know yet. That’s to be part of my message. I fear the rest isn’t so pleasing.”
“Well, considering if your wearing a Raijin uniform when you haven’t graduated yet is to be considered ‘pleasing’, I cannot imagine what other ill tidings you bear.”
She told Bodo about the little she discovered about Ryne, before she gave him the news of the attack on Ranoda by the shadeling army and Amuni’s Children. Herald Bodo handled it well, nodding and grunting while stroking his forked beard. When she relayed her rescue by Tae and the message the old woman wanted her to deliver to their master, Herald Bodo’s face paled. He paced back and forth across his message map, his robes swishing through the replicas in colorful swirls as if they didn’t exist.
“May Ilumni help us all,” he uttered when she finished.
“I understand shadeling creation shouldn’t be possible in Denestia, and the chance of one among them being as strong as a High Ashishin is daunting for sure. But we should be able to handle this if we act now,” Irmina insisted.
Herald Bodo paused for a moment, listened, shook his head then continued pacing and muttering to himself.
“Bodo?”
“You don’t understand just how dire our situation is, do you?” He stopped pacing for a moment before he began again.
“Actually, I think I do, after all she told me. Why else would she have risked Materialization to get me here so fast?”
The Herald paused again at the mention of Tae’s Materialization Forge. His mutterings grew more pronounced. “You’re the closest we have to this situation. I would risk telling you, but not without our master’s permission. A moment, if you will.” He stepped onto the path built around the map.
Irmina embraced her Matersense. As if a fog lifted before her eyes, all around her came alive with new clarity. The walls of the Bastion thrummed with essences so bright she squinted. On the message map itself, essences matching those that made up the actual cities filled their ethereal counterparts. Mater flowed from point to point like blood running through veins. And Herald Bodo manipulated them all.
The Forging he made was so complex she lost track of the strings of essences in their intricacy. As usual, her own power surged within her, begging for release. Already within the Eye, she ignored it. Control was hers, and she wouldn’t relinquish her hold. The scale of Bodo’s Forging built to incomprehensible proportions. Irmina felt her bonds begin to weaken, and her resolve grew tenuous. Before she could lose control, she cut off her Matersense. Everything faded to a pale, washed out version of what she’d witnessed, and the essences vanished.
Bodo’s ragged gasps made Irmina look toward the man. “What was that all about? Do you need to use that much power for a message?”
“No,” Bodo said, still breathing heavily. “But in order to hide this particular message, it had to be done. No one can see what I sent except Jerem.”
“What now?”
“We wait. His answer—” Bodo paused, his eyes trained on the map. “Ah, permission has been granted.”
Irmina frowned. What could be so important all of this needed to be done?
Bodo paced back and forth again.“Where to start? Where to start?” he said to himself.
Irmina swallowed. “He wants me to get rid of the Raijin uniform doesn't he?”
“Actually, no. He didn't bother with that.”
“He didn't?” Irmina gave a slight shake of her head. Her work entailed the use of many a disguise, but anything above a Devout's garb, from Raijin to Exalted, was expressly forbidden and punishable by a pain penance at the very least.
Bodo stopped pacing. “Ah. What do you know of the Eztezians?”
“History was never my area of expertise, Bodo.”
“Still what do you remember from your schooling.”
Irmina shrugged. “They were the appointed
Guardians of Denestia responsible for sealing the gods in the Nether. The very same gods that appointed them. Later, driven insane by their own power, they fought against each other and brought about the Great Divide in which they almost destroyed the world. What do they have to do with anything? They’re long dead.”
Bodo’s eyes twinkled, and he gave her a knowing smile. “Therein is your first mistake. Not all the Eztezians are dead. And they weren’t just the Guardians of Denestia. They were the direct descendants of our so called gods and also their Battleguards.”
Irmina tried to grasp the concept of humans being the gods’ Battleguards. “So you’re telling me every scholar, every book, every school, every story about the Eztezians’ existence are all wrong?”
“Not wrong, but purposefully misguiding. Do you know how the Eztezians sealed the gods?”
“They used some kind of powerful divyas. There are no real records of the divyas’ creation or their names. At least not that I’ve seen.”
“Well yes, but the divya were people. The Eztezians themselves were the divya.”
Irmina stared in disbelief. “How’s that possible?”
“By use of Etchings. Our gods were created in the Nether, out of the bodies of netherlings by the One God. The netherlings—”
“The same netherlings which were later used to help create the first shadelings?”
“Precisely so. And they never forgave the gods for such misuse, for the destruction of millions of their kind to create the armies of the shade. The gods warred among each other using these forces. Until the netherlings decided to rebel. They used their control over Mater in its most primal state to bestow power comparable to the gods unto the Eztezians. Many of the Eztezians themselves had grown weary of the constant war and the destruction of all they’d grown to love about the worlds. So, they allowed the netherlings to Etch this power into their core. On the very strongest of the Eztezians, the Etchings also included the seals. With surprise on their side, they betrayed their forefathers and trapped the gods in the Nether.”
