by Phil Tucker
Asho ignored him. "Shaya, what are you doing here? Are you free?"
"Yes," said Shaya, and she fairly glowed with happiness. "I have so much to tell you, but, yes, I'm free. I was freed by a kragh warlord called Tharok. He also freed Nok, and since then we've been traveling with his tribe. I'm part of his clan, and he's gathering so many kragh – you wouldn't believe it, highland kragh, just like Nok here – to come and liberate our people."
Asho blinked. "Wait. An army of kragh? You've joined one of their clans?"
Shaya grinned, delighted at his shock. "I knew you wouldn't believe me. But it's true. They're – I don't even know how to tell you, Asho, how amazing and hard and rewarding these past few months have been. Tharok freed me, but I chose to stay with them because of what I had seen. There is a nobility to them that's completely lacking here in the Empire. They respect their women. They – never mind. The point is that, yes, Tharok is coming, and at the head of a huge army, like nothing the Empire has ever seen."
Asho heard her words, but he couldn't process them. Couldn't make sense of what she was saying. Shaya stepped forward and took his hand, squeezed it tightly with both of her own. "Tharok is coming, Asho. He's asked me to prepare our people. He's going to smash through Abythos and crush anyone who stands in his way." There were tears in her eyes. "He's going to liberate us, Asho. You, mother, father, all of us. At long last we're going to be free."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
By slow degrees, Kethe came to know the other members of her cohort. Each morning she awoke refreshed and energized despite the brutal training regimen of the day before, and each day she felt herself becoming ever so slightly more integrated with the group. She grew to expect Dalitha's boisterous call for the group to gather for breakfast, and to catch Khoussan on the balcony at dusk, alone and brooding with his thoughts. She met Wolfker, the other Ennoian Consecrated, who was a blond and vulpine counterpart to Sighart's concentrated lethality.
At first Makaria's death lay like a shadow over their interactions, but beyond that, looming over their own hesitations and resentment, glittered the memory of the White Gate. That memory would come to her at strange moments – that feeling of absolution, of how close she had come to dissolving into the... divine? She wasn't sure what to call it. But that sensation still thrummed through her core like a sheath of white fire over her bones.
The White Gate. Each of them had touched its glory and managed to walk away, and that fact above all others pulled them together. Kethe could catch Gray Wind looking out into the distance, fork raised to his mouth, and know what he was thinking. A moment of hilarity would be followed by a pensive silence as their thoughts turned from their jest, for no reason they could discern, to the monumental nature of the White Gate above them.
It overshadowed the group's initial resentment, it defanged their horror. It forced them in time to accept her rebirth, according to Ascension's doctrine. It broke down the barriers between them without even being mentioned. Its existence was all that was needed to eventually bring them together.
One evening Kethe stepped out onto the broad balcony and found Akkara alone in the corner, sitting in a chair with her knees bent under her chin, gazing out distractedly at the setting sun. Of the group, only Akkara seemed to actively resist mingling. Or perhaps she was simply too different, too fey, to blend in with the others.
Kethe leaned against the balcony, gazing out over the crimson cloudscape, marveling as always at the magnificence of the view, and waited. She'd learned that Akkara spoke when she was ready, if at all.
"Doesn't it terrify you?" The Bythian's voice was pitched low, almost hushed.
"Does what terrify me?" Kethe could think of a half-dozen things that might qualify.
"Being this close to divinity." The Bythian's eyes glittered with fear. "Knowing it's up there at this very moment. That we were chosen to serve it. Doesn't that responsibility fill you with fear?"
Kethe hesitated. Did it? Her thoughts strayed constantly toward the Gate, it was true. But she'd managed to marvel at it without allowing her mind to wander down the lines of consequences, the implications of what she'd felt. The classes she'd begun taking on history and theology seemed academic, abstract; she refused to let them become personal. "Maybe," she admitted.
"It does me." Akkara coiled up a little tighter. "They say we're chosen because we are the perfect receptacles for the Ascendant's vision here on Earth." She bit her lower lip and shook her head. "But what does it say about the Ascendant if he'd pick tools as poor as us?"
As me, Kethe heard.
"I don't know," said Kethe. "I don't know what to think." I don't want to think, she almost said. Train, yes; listen to lectures, fine. But absorb the implications? What they might mean for Asho? For her mother? For the Agerastians? No.
Khoussan came out onto the balcony, saw the pair of them and almost turned around. Kethe straightened and gave him a hopeful smile. Of the group, Khoussan was the one she felt the most at ease with. It wasn't that the others judged her, more that she felt a need to portray herself as something worthy in their eyes.
"Evening," he said, his voice a low and mellow rumble. He walked up to the railing and rested both hands on its broad surface. "Am I interrupting?"
"Yes," said Akkara quietly.
"No," said Kethe at the same time. "We were trying to understand what it means to have been chosen by the Ascendant."
Khoussan frowned. "Our teachers have made it clear."
"Yes, but their words don't satisfy me." Kethe suddenly wanted to know what Khoussan truly felt. What thoughts smoldered behind his dark eyes. "I know the official dogma as well as anyone at this point. But it doesn't make sense in here." She tapped her chest over her heart.
A flock of white feathered birds flew slowly past. Behind them, the sun's dying rays rose in great golden beams as the clouds parted for a moment and then faded away once more. Khoussan was staring in that direction, but Kethe didn't think he was really seeing anything.
"Khoussan?" She felt as if she were walking on ice. "What do you think?"
Akkara was listening intently, her mouth hidden behind her crossed forearms, her eyes trained on the dark-skinned man.
"You don't want to know what I think," he said at last. It was clear he was picking his words carefully. "My opinions are not accepted around here."
"That's exactly why I want to know," said Kethe. "Mine aren't either. I don't –" She looked around quickly to make sure they were alone. "I don't – or didn't – believe in Ascension anymore."
Akkara's head rose, and Khoussan half-turned to her, brows raised.
"I didn't. And maybe I still don't." Kethe looked down at her hands, freckled and callused and nicked with healing cuts and pale scars. "I know that fairness isn't supposed to have anything to do with it, but when I was at Mythgraefen Hold, thinking about all the events that had my mother and I cast out of our home, I came to understand new truths." Even as she spoke, she thought about the overwhelming beauty of the White Gate. Her words came with great difficulty, as if she were wading thigh-deep in mud.
"Bythians aren't one step above animals. Ennoians aren't noble warriors. Aletheians aren't the purest of us all. Asho – my Bythian friend – he saw Aletheians do something that shocked us all to the core." She felt cowardly for not mentioning the Grace's betrayal outright. "And if the people who are meant to be more evolved aren't –what does that say about Ascension?"
Khoussan opened and closed his left hand, causing the tendons to ripple along the back of his muscled forearm. "You're right about one thing. Ascension has got nothing to do with fairness."
"Unless you're at the top," said Akkara.
Khoussan nodded. "Agreed. You asked me why I think we were picked to have this power?" He clenched his jaw, pursing his lips as he dredged up what he was about to say next. "Cruelty. A reminder that Ascendancy doesn't care about people as people, that it doesn't care about our actual lives. That it cares only for its soul-cleansing cycle, at any
cost. It plucks men and women from their lives not because they're special, but because it can. It shows that we're all at its mercy. From the highest Aletheian like Gray Wind to a Bythian like Akkara."
Kethe listened, eyes wide. "What happened to you, Khoussan?" Her voice was almost a whisper. "Who were you before?"
"Me?" He laughed. "Nothing. Nobody." He paused, and she thought he might walk away. Then he hung his head, his ropes of hair spilling down over his shoulders. "That's not true. I was someone. I was a husband. A father. No one special, other than perhaps in how much I loved my life. My wife Eitani and I owned a small cobbler's shop, just off of Iokaja Market, down by the bay. I bought it for almost nothing. A burnt shell, but I bought it repaired it with my family. We lived in a small apartment above it. My children..." He trailed off, his eyes glazing over, mouth thinning with pain.
The silence stretched out between them. Kethe didn't know what to say. Finally, Khoussan sighed, the tension leaving his powerful frame. "When I started to develop this power, I denied it. I knew it was a death sentence to the person I was. I didn't tell Eitani or my children, my mother or my best friends until I was nearly dead. Eitani had me carried to the wise woman, who knew what was happening. I don't remember being taken to the Solar Gates. I don't remember saying goodbye to my family." He stared down at his fists. "I just remember waking up here, and being told to learn how to fight, to kill, all for the Ascendant's glory."
From inside the apartment, they heard Dalitha's excited cry as she came in through the front door. "Everyone! Hey, everyone, get in here!"
Kethe wanted to curse, but Khoussan had already turned away. That raw vulnerability was gone, hidden once more behind a calm mask of iron control. A family. Children. How else could he see his powers but a curse?
Akkara rose stiffly to her feet, wary and awkward, and shared a look with Kethe. Her glittering eyes betrayed nothing, and together they followed Khoussan inside.
Dalitha was almost vibrating with excitement. She grinned widely at them all, then darted to Gray Wind's door and banged on it. "Get out here, Gray! You've got the rest of your life to meditate. Come on!"
"What is it now, Dalitha?" Sighart crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against his doorframe. Wolfker was sitting on a bench against the wall, a blade across his knee, the hilt and pommel removed so he could inspect the tang.
"News! Theletos has issued a summons! He's recalling the Virtues from the field. They're all going to be back here by tomorrow. All of them!"
Gray Wind's door opened and he stepped out, his hair undone, a number of clips in his hand. "Even Henosis?"
"Yep." Dalitha rose to the balls of her feet and back down. "The Grace will have to do without her. They're all coming back to pay witness and judge!"
"Judge what?" Kethe moved forward, still uneasy about speaking up with everyone present. "What's going on?"
Gray Wind looked surprised. "Theletos isn't wasting any time. I suppose that makes sense, given the crisis we face in Otran." He looked over to Kethe. "There's to be another Quickening. One of the Consecrated will be elevated to fill Makaria's position and become the new Virtue of Happiness."
Dalitha clapped her hands. "At last! Sighart, I know you're going to win." She mimed holding a blade, fell into a deep backwards stance, then leaped up to spin neatly in the air, cutting out with a slash. "No problem!"
Sighart snorted.
Kethe felt a fluttering in her stomach. "What's this Quickening? Does it involve the White Gate?"
Dalitha rolled her eyes and was about to respond, but Wolfker spoke up first. "It's a trial by combat. All forty-nine of the Consecrated will battle each other, the winner proceeding to the next round, until only six are left. Those six will each fight a Virtue. The one who puts up the best fight before losing will become the new Makaria. We just had one a few months ago to find the new Synesis."
Kethe blinked. "But how does that make any sense? Virtues are chosen solely on their ability to fight?"
Gray Wind reached up and began fastening his hair. "Think about it, Kethe. Combat for us is a combination of martial skill and our ability to wield our power. The winner will have demonstrated a mastery of both."
Dalitha nodded vigorously. "You can't hope to win just by being good at one part of it, see? You need to be lethal with the blade and also steeped in righteous power."
Kethe bit her lower lip as she thought about it. "But it's not fair. Any Ennoian Consecrated will have years of training under their belt."
"True," said Sighart. "But no amount of training will overcome a Consecrated with a mastery of their power."
Kethe looked around the group. "And how do we measure up against the other cohorts?"
Dalitha punched her fist into the palm of her other hand. "Pretty good! Sighart and Wolfker are lethal. Sighart advanced to the final round last time. I'm not too bad, either. Akkara and Khoussan are kind of useless, but that's not their fault. They just got started."
"I think you have a chance," said Sighart to Kethe. Dalitha's eyebrows shot up, but Sighart nodded. "I've seen you train. I wouldn't be surprised if you went far."
Kethe spluttered. "What? No. No no no." She stepped back, fighting the urge to run out onto the balcony. "That makes no sense. I killed Makaria. I can't – how would –?"
Khoussan grunted. "That would fit my understanding of Ascension perfectly."
Gray Wind finished twisting his hair into a knot and patted it once to make sure it remained in place. "We've told you a hundred times, Kethe. What you did before your Consecration literally doesn't matter. Our pasts are forever gone. Only the present and our future remains."
Kethe hugged herself and ran her hands up and down her arms. "Tell that to Synesis."
Akkara's voice slipped in, cold as a knife. "I hope you don't win, Kethe. The Virtues will punish you if you reach the final round. Not just Synesis."
"No, they won't," Dalitha snapped immediately. "That's nonsense."
Akkara shrugged and looked away.
"Regardless," said Sighart, pushing off the doorframe. "We'll find out tomorrow."
Kethe nodded glumly. The group began to splinter, each person moving off to their own space to contemplate the situation. Akkara gave Kethe a knowing look before she returned to the balcony.
"Hey, cheer up, Kethe," said Dalitha as she moved toward her room. "At least that means we get to skip some lectures tomorrow, right?"
"Right," Kethe said, and shivered.
The Quickening began the following day, an hour after dawn. The training ground had been converted into a small arena, with staggered seating rising up on both the northern and southern wings. Important Aletheian figures had been arriving to claim their seats since before dawn, with ministers and counselors seated in the lowest front seats, their retinues extending up and behind them like glorious capes of scintillating colors. There had to be several hundred spectators already in place by the time Kethe and her cohort emerged from their tunnel. To the west arose a simple dais with seven seats along its length. It was clear who would be sitting there.
The other Consecrated were already moving into place, lining up in columns across the arena from the chair of their Virtue. Wolfker led Kethe's group to the empty space across from Makaria's chair and stood at the front. Behind him stood Sighart, then Gray Wind, followed by Dalitha, Khoussan, and Akkara. Kethe slipped behind the slender Bythian woman and hunched her shoulders.
She was known by the other Consecrated. How could she not be? She'd killed a Virtue. Dark looks, sidelong glances and some outright stares came her way. She ignored them as best she could and instead watched the stands. It was like watching a thousand peacocks settling in to roost. She'd never seen anything like it. Here and there, stringed instruments were strummed, never quite breaking out into music, but building the excitement, as if a great song were on the verge of being played.
Glancing behind her, Kethe saw that the sky was clear of all clouds. Brocuff's words came back to her as if from a
different life: Always mind the position of the sun, lass. It's as important an element in combat as your weapon. It can become a weapon, if you use it right.
Suddenly, the crowd fell silent, an unexpected hush that tugged at Kethe's nerves like a fist grabbing at her hair. Why were they all going quiet? She peered around Akkara's narrow frame and saw that everyone was looking toward an archway that disappeared into the stonecloud behind the dais. Six figures emerged from the tunnel, and for the first time Kethe saw the Ascendant's Virtues all in one place.
Theletos the Longed For walked in the lead, indolent and at ease, the light catching his unruly hair and handsome features. He gazed out over the assembled Perfecti of Aletheia with a private smile on his lips. Clad in a crimson robe over gray clothing, he was effortlessly elegant. He could have come out wearing sackcloth and he'd still be breathtaking, Kethe realized. He had that kind of raw charisma.
Behind him came a tall woman, her blonde hair thick and curled about the nape of her neck. She was a mature woman, handsome and stern, and though she appeared to be in her forties Kethe had heard she was actually much older. A Virtue's power slowed their aging. This was Ainos the Praised, the Sigean Virtue. Kethe had seen her once or twice in the halls of the Temple. Stately, serene, she appeared all the more matriarchal compared to Theletos' irreverent appeal.
A familiar figure came next. Slender, painfully young, her black hair radiating out like a storm cloud behind her striking features, Synesis the Virtue of Intelligence seemed to burn with an intensity that seared the air around her. She was wearing the deep blue of Nous, which contrasted beautifully with the rich darkness of her skin. Though she'd been born in Zoe, she had been chosen to represent Nous. Another mystery.
A massive man towered behind her, almost as wide as he was tall, his rough features and bald head looking to have been chipped out of granite. He was the only Virtue who was wearing plate armor, and even from where she was standing, Kethe could see how heavy it was. Only the man's formidable strength allowed him to move within that suit; the metal looked to be more than an inch thick. Akinetos the Immovable, Virtue of Ennoia.
