The Siege of Abythos

by Phil Tucker

Akinetos was standing in his monstrous full plate beside Ainos and Henosis, the three of them grouped by a window, flutes of golden liquid in hand. Mixis was lying on a chaise, ankles crossed, fingers interlaced behind his head, eyes closed.

  Theletos strode into the center of the chamber and placed his hands on the back of the chair at the head of the table. His position, realized Kethe. The leader of the Virtues.

  "You will have many questions," Theletos said calmly. "And in time, they will all be answered to your satisfaction. Your doubts will be laid to rest, and you will stand as unwavering by our side as you did before."

  Kethe blinked and looked at Ainos. Had she shared their conversation? But Ainos' face was bland and betrayed nothing.

  "Your situation is unique in that you've spent precious little time as a Consecrated, and thus your education and training are only just beginning."

  Kethe raised her chin. "I did well enough without this training, I would think."

  Theletos raised an eyebrow, looking amused instead of annoyed. "There is far more to being a Virtue than one's skill with a blade. The soul must be as tempered, as sure, as resolute. Regardless, you will not be taking the field anytime soon. Instead, you will remain here in Aletheia, training your cohort and learning in turn what it means to be a Virtue in service to the Ascendant."

  Kethe nodded, then paused. "Wait. Training my cohort?"

  "Of course," said Synesis from above, not even looking at Kethe as she turned a huge page. "Makaria's cohort. Don't tell me you've already forgotten about them?"

  "They are yours now," Theletos continued evenly. "And your responsibility. Their attitudes, their martial training, their discipline and outlook are solely your responsibility, and will reflect on you to your glory or shame. They have had a hard time of it as of late and need guidance."

  Akinetos drained his glass and set it aside with surprising delicacy; his massive gauntlet looked easily capable of crushing the flute by accident. "It's a good group. Wolfker, Sighart, and Gray Wind are talented. They will do well if you push them."

  Kethe nodded. Her cohort... "And the rest of you? Will you be returning to the field?"

  Mixis snorted but didn't open his eyes.

  Theletos' smile was patient, but his eyes glittered. "I never leave Aletheia. My sole duty is to the Ascendant. I am his last and ultimate line of defense."

  "Oh, of course," said Kethe. She smoothed down her tunic, realized she was doing so and locked her hands behind her back, only to realize that doing so made her chest strain against the fabric. She immediately brought her hands back to the front. "I meant everyone else."

  Henosis rested her glass before her lips, her elbow propped on her other arm. She looked ineffably at ease in her own skin, beautiful and powerful and predatory. "I return to his Grace's side tomorrow."

  Akinetos rumbled deep in his chest. "Mixis and I are deliberating what to do. Now that the heretics have broken free of Otran and disappeared, our army is at a loss."

  "Wait, what?" Kethe took a quick step forward. "The Agerastians have left Otran?"

  Theletos leaned his elbows on the chair back, as languorous as a cindercat. " Our army was attacked from behind by a strike force of some seven hundred cavalry. They broke our siege line and allowed the heretics to escape."

  "And disappear," rumbled Akinetos. "Against all odds, deep in the Ennoian countryside."

  Mixis shook his head slowly, eyes still closed. "Come morning and the opening of the Gate to Ennoia, I'm sure we'll receive word of their location."

  Synesis turned another page. "Unless they timed their attack so as to escape through a Lunar Portal." A thin vertical line appeared between her brows. "But, even then, it couldn't have stayed open long enough for them all to escape." She turned yet another huge page. Kethe caught sight of what looked like a strange map, crisscrossed with arcs and bright red lines. "And I'm not seeing any sign of a stonecloud passing through the area that they could have climbed onto."

  Theletos straightened abruptly, the first sign of impatience that Kethe had ever seen him make. "Seven hundred heavy horses would leave a trail a hundred yards wide. Come morning, we'll hear of where they went. Akinetos, Mixis, report to his Grace as well. I'm sure he'll have you follow that trail and destroy the enemy."

  Mixis sat up, eyes opening at last, and gave a curt nod. "You can count on it."

  Kethe realized she had been holding her breath. They didn't know about Starkadr or its multiplicity of Portals. Of course not! That army was no doubt already secreted away, possibly back at Mythgraefen Hold, possibly in Agerastos. Should she tell them? She was Makaria, was she not?

  An image flooded her thoughts: the White Gate, burning with divine light, filling her with an impossible longing for something she didn't even understand.

  The Virtues were watching her. Kethe blinked. Had she given her thoughts away? "What?"

  "You were part of the enemy force until only a few weeks ago." Ainos' voice was calm, almost quiet. "Is there anything you wish to share with us?"

  "Yes," said Synesis, closing her book and laying it flat across her knees. "How did you come to Aletheia? My understanding is that there are only two Lunar Portals from the land of your Mythgraefen Hold. The Raven's Gate and Lord Laur's Talon Gate."

  "I don't know." Kethe wanted to turn away from their prying eyes. Instead, she fought to tell only the truth. "I was unconscious when whoever brought me here did so."

  Theletos looked up at Synesis. "Find out who dropped Kethe off at the Temple. They would have given a name. I want them brought in for questioning."

  Kethe felt her throat tighten but kept quiet.

  Mixis was staring coldly at her. "What were your mother's plans before you left?"

  "Honestly?" Kethe laughed, though it was more of a croak. "Survival. She knew Lord Laur would be sending a second force to avenge the first. We estimated we had two months to prepare. She was finalizing an alliance with the local mountain folk and fixing the Hold as best she could."

  Theletos' eyes glittered, and she had to strain to hold his gaze. There was no judgement there, but he seemed to peer into her depths in such a disturbing manner that she was forced to look away before she blushed once more.

  "And this surprise attack on our forces at Otran," said Mixis. "You know nothing about it."

  She felt a prickle of anger. "I do know that the Agerastians can Sin Cast. Maybe they've found a way to magic their way past your defenses."

  The silence that followed was broken only by Theletos' voice. "Our defenses."

  Kethe looked down again. "Right. Our defenses."

  Henosis set her glass down on the windowsill with an audible clink. "Enough. I know our situation is difficult, but you are ringing the poor girl like a pack of vultures."

  Theletos narrowed his eyes. "The Empire's safety is –"

  "Yes, yes, Theletos, I know, I know." Henosis strode forward, rounding Mixis' chaise, and approached Kethe. "But, enough. Her head must be spinning, and she needs time to adjust. Come." She took Kethe's hand in her own and pulled her toward the double doors. "Let's go."

  "I – ah – all right." Kethe followed, trying not to feel as if she were being rescued, ignoring Theletos' frown and the strange impact it had had upon her. Why did she care whether he approved or not of her actions, her words?

  Henosis' hand was warm and dry, strong and callused. They walked out into the hall, the doors swinging shut behind them, and there Henosis released Kethe's hand only to link her arm through Kethe's instead. The Virtue of Oneness was shorter than her by several inches; she was just shy of being petite, a fact that Kethe would never have guessed from watching her in battle.

  "Theletos is so full of himself that he often forgets that others have feelings of their own." Henosis led her down the hall and out onto a small balcony. When she reached the stone railing, she turned to lean on one elbow and face Kethe. "How are you doing?"

  "How am I doing?" Kethe laughed and laid both hands on the railing, stiff-arm
ed, ignoring the grandeur of the cloudscape. "Overwhelmed?"

  Henosis nodded, her coiled snakes of bronze hair gleaming in the dying sunlight. "It takes years to come to terms with who you have discovered yourself to be. A word of advice: don't tell your cohort to call you Kethe."

  "What? Why?" And how had Henosis known she'd intended to do just that?

  Henosis' smile was lazy. "It was my little act of rebellion when I first became a Virtue. Your cohort is yours to train and treat as you wish. I thought I could maintain a sense of identity outside of being a Virtue by having them call me by my own name."

  "And?"

  "It didn't go well. It confused them, made it hard for them to obey me as they should. You are a Virtue now. Not their equal, not their friend, but their mentor. And should you ever lead them into battle, their successes and failures will be a direct reflection of your leadership."

  "Lead them into battle?" asked Kethe. "I thought they never left the Temple."

  "In times of true crisis, they will. It's happened a half-dozen times that I know of, over the centuries. So, understand this. The amount of respect and obedience you command on the training grounds will be a precursor of how they will respond to you in battle."

  Kethe hesitated, then nodded. "Are you telling me this because you think we'll be taking them into battle?"

  "Honestly? No." Henosis looked over her shoulder at the world below. "This Agerastian rebellion is proving difficult to suppress, but now we have their measure. The Empire can be slow to gather its forces, but we are pulling soldiers and commanders from the hinterlands of Zoe and suspending the Black Year to keep Ennoians on the field. We're drawing down our Cerulean Elites from Sige and recalling the expedition we sent out last year into the Ymergardian Wastes north of Ennoia. No matter how bravely the Agerastians fight, they will be crushed within three months."

  The copper-skinned Virtue sighed. "Then comes the clean-up. The shipyards along the coast of Ennoia are already hard at work building frigates and warships. By my guess, we'll be invading Agerastos by this time next year." She frowned, considering unknown variables, then shook her head. "So, no. We'll not be drawing the Consecrated from the Temple. But we should always be prepared."

  "Oh," said Kethe. She wanted suddenly to ask about her mother's fate and the alliance the Grace had made with Lord Laur, but that remained treacherous ground. Instead, she blurted out an observation without thought: "Mixis and Synesis seem to hate me." She instantly wished she could draw the words back, but went on, "Is there anything I can do to help them get over the fact..."

  "The fact that your former self killed their lover and mentor?" Henosis shook her head. "By all rights, they should forgive you your prior sins. But you'll soon learn that we Virtues are just as human as everyone else. Give them time, and give them the opportunity to get to know you, to see your value. We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other. In time, they will forgive you, and will come to know you as Makaria, a new version of the person they loved."

  "Do you believe that?" Again, Kethe felt hesitant. With Ainos, she had been defiant, but she found now that she wanted Henosis' approval, and was afraid of asking foolish questions, betraying how ignorant she truly was. "That we're an extension of the prime Virtues? That you're really Henosis?"

  The Virtue rolled her head from side to side, considering, then nodded. "It's complicated, but yes. The way I see it, each incarnation brings with them their own life experiences, values, and personality. But the Virtue shines through them, like a light might glow through a pane of painted glass. I'm not an exact replica of the previous Henosis, but over time I've come to see that I share some fundamental qualities. I am Henosis, but I am a unique expression of the Virtue of Oneness."

  "And I'm the Virtue of Happiness." Kethe laughed shakily. "I don't feel happy."

  "You once told me, years ago, that nobody should strive to be happy. Instead, they should fight to feel fulfilled, to be whole, and only then will happiness come of its own accord. It will take time. You have years of tedious studying ahead of you. I envy you not." Henosis grinned. "You – the previous you – exemplified a joy in living. You lit up the room, not in the sullen pretty-boy way that Theletos does – though don't tell him I said that – but more. You lived each moment to its fullest. You drank deep from the cup of life, and whether its waters were sweet or bitter, you relished the drinking. You were fiercely alive, and simply being close to you made one feel more alive as well."

  Henosis stopped abruptly and stared down at her hands.

  "He was your friend," said Kethe, feeling young and stupid and awkward. "And here you are, talking to me nicely." Guilt flashed through her. "I'm sorry."

  "I do miss him." Henosis' voice grew rough with emotion. "We Virtues – we are a complicated lot. Arrogant, prickly, and often a chore to work with. But Makaria – he pulled us together. We all feel his absence. This is the first time we've gathered without him, and it's almost as if we don't know what to do without his laughter and camaraderie to pull us together."

  Henosis sighed and straightened. "But we will continue. And, perhaps, in time, when you mature and reach your full expression as a person, you will exemplify that virtue of his. Perhaps, years and years from now, you will be the center of our group, its beating heart."

  Kethe wanted to shake her head, to laugh bitterly, but the gravity behind Henosis' words precluded such quick denials. "Perhaps."

  "I'll tell you what the previous Theletos told me when I was Quickened. She told me that there is little comfort and certainty in being a Virtue. That it is a hard and lonely road, and while we walk it in the company of the other six, each of us is truly alone with our doubts and fears. In the end, she said, the only comfort, the sole source of solace that she returned to over the course of her long life, was that she was more than she could perceive. You are now more than you ever were as Kethe Kyferin. You are Makaria, the Virtue of Happiness, and the full meaning of that, the true role you play in this world and the consequences of your actions, will be forever beyond your grasp."

  Henosis reached out and tapped Kethe's sternum with two fingers. "But believe it in here. You are a servant of good. For all your power, you serve. So, when you doubt, when you fear, when you feel weak, remember: you are more than you know. You are greater than you can comprehend. You are a Virtue of the Ascendant, from now until you die, and you will change the world for the better, even if you do not see those changes, the consequences of your actions, yourself."

  Kethe shivered, goosebumps running down her arms, and she hugged herself tight. For the first time it felt real, her being a Virtue. For the first time, she felt like she was starting to grapple with the reality of what had happened, and it awed and terrified her.

  Henosis smiled. "Give yourself time. It will come. Until then, learn to put up with Theletos. Especially because he will always be here in Aletheia. He's so earnest and self-assured and caught up in his own supposed divinity that the only thing that makes him bearable is the fact that he really is as good as he thinks."

  "He is? He's better than Akinetos?"

  "Oh, Makaria." Henosis' smile was laced with pity and sadness. "If Theletos believed it was necessary, he could defeat the six of us all at once. There is no touching him. And that, in the end, is his curse."

  Kethe realized that Henosis' pity wasn't for her, but for Theletos, and shook her head in incomprehension. "His curse? But why?"

  "One day you will understand. Now, I need to see to my cohort. I've spent precious little time with them since the Agerastian invasion. If you ever have need of me, send word. If I can, I will always come to your aid."

  Tears came to Kethe's eyes. "Thank you, Henosis."

  The other Virtue stepped forward and gave Kethe a tight hug. "Be patient. With yourself, with us, with Ascension itself. All will become clear in time."

  Kethe wiped the tears away. She didn't know if she believed Henosis, but she nodded regardless. "I will. Thank you."

  Heno
sis moved toward the doorway, then turned back to Kethe with a smile. "It's good to have you back with us, Makaria. I've missed you."

  Then she was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Tharok was flying. The rhythmic beat of the wyvern's wings was entrancing – the continuous upbeat, hang, and then descent into the next powerful flap of the leatherine wings. This was no graceful glide, but a muscling through the air, an ongoing combat with the forces that sought to pull them down. He thrilled at the prodigious, terrible strength that coiled and released and coiled once more beneath him, and at the great muscles of the wyvern's shoulders that wrapped around its chest. He could almost feel its serpentine tail undulating out behind him. With his mind melded with the beast's, it took little effort to imagine that it was he himself who was flying.

  Mentally, he was holding on to more than fifty wyvern minds, while far below, surging across the land like a horizontal avalanche, came another sixty stone trolls. It pushed him to his limit, strained the fabric of his mind, caused the iron band to burn and sear into his skin, a continuous wound that only the Medusa's Kiss allowed him to resist and heal. It felt akin to a fever dream. It was hard to focus on anything, any one thought, to keep his goals clenched firmly at the front of his mind.

  It was as if his presence had been distributed among all the creatures under his dominion; as if his spirit were shuttling through a network of corralled souls, enforcing his will, goading them on, leading them toward a destiny alien to their kind. He fought to encompass the enormity of what he was seeking to accomplish, to keep the burn that seared his mind from turning into a conflagration and destroying him.

  And, wing beat by wing beat, he managed.

  They flew high over the Chasm Walk. Looking down past the wyvern's neck, he could see an ocean of shadows flitting across the land beneath him. He was the spear point of the flock. The air thrummed with the sound of wings and was rent asunder by the occasional trumpet as a wyvern expressed its frustration at not being allowed to veer away and hunt.