Dreamspinner Press Year Five Greatest Hits

by Tinnean

  He bowed again deeply before clapping his hands together sharply. The others straightened immediately. “I am Ostyn Tan, the Hyson of Narsyk, and I have come to bring you the word of the Emperor of Narsyk, the Light of Time, Jaron Siu.”

  At the mention of the name of the emperor, all in the party put their hands out to their sides, then turned their palms up.

  “I am pleased to greet you, Ostyn Tan,” Cerus said, smiling widely. “We have been most anxious at the thought of your imminent arrival. We looked forward to meeting you all.”

  Again, Ostyn bowed. “Our emperor sends his deepest regards with the hope that you will accept our gift and will be able to grant us that which we seek.”

  “Please,” Cerus asked, “allow us to know our gift.”

  “The great Ko-Tai, our emperor, he proposes that the empire of Narsyk and the kingdom of Rieyn together rule the ruined kingdom of Crosas. Our emperor says that we can rebuild it together, create a place where both cultures and people may meet and blend along with those remaining Crosans. We will create a safe haven for those of any race, and so your border will once more be your own, and your vigilance can be traded for brotherhood.”

  “We had thought that the empire of Narsyk meant to go to war.”

  Ostyn looked sad suddenly. “And well we still might, great archlord, if you cannot grant us the brother of the Ko-Tai.”

  Voices came from everywhere at once. It took Cerus several moments, with the help of Nictorus, who came forward to where he and Ostyn Tan were standing, to quiet everyone back down.

  “You would plan and create a new state with us, together as equals?” Nictorus asked. “If only we would grant you the brother of your emperor?”

  “Indeed. The emperor has two brothers. One he displaced when they fought for the throne, and the other, he lost during the war. The brother he displaced, Arterus—now there is only strife and blood between them, but his other brother…. He is precious to him, to all of us, and we would have him restored.”

  More outbursts of noise, disbelief mixed with awe, as all information was absorbed.

  “Ostyn Tan, Hyson of Narsyk, we cannot give to you what we do not have in our possession.”

  Ostyn straightened and turned to look at one of the men who had entered the hall with him, Irachis Qhan, the Scion of Narsyk. In so doing, he directed everyone’s attention to him, including the archlord’s. Cerus stared, seeing a man with unnaturally red hair. It looked as though it had been dyed with blood. So dark, yet so visibly crimson, and not a color the archlord had ever seen before. The scion’s hair was tied back from his face with a long, black silk sash that hung down his back. The ferocity of the eyes that regarded him took the archlord by surprise; they allowed for no trace of softness. He wasn’t sure what to make of the man, whether to be fearful or not.

  His voice when he spoke was soft but deep, with a thick accent that no one had ever heard before but was in fact from the plains of Narsyk. He spoke at length to Ostyn in a stream of mellifluous sound, but then, after a minute, realized his rudeness and suddenly bowed.

  “Forgive my breech of courtesy,” he said, and the words, spoken in the language of the west, in Jebet, were clipped and halting, as though he were forming and choosing them quite carefully, not at all comfortable with his usage. “Perhaps there are more to ask?” he suggested, turning from Cerus to the hyson.

  Ostyn nodded, agreeing, and turned his attention back to Cerus. “Great archlord, may we put the question to some of your warriors?”

  “It would be our pleasure to find an answer to your quest in the form of one of the Prefects of Rieyn,” Cerus assured him, and he ordered every prefect to come and stand before the hyson. Ram did not want to be the first to be interrogated and so prodded Ehron up before him.

  The Prefect of the First Legion stepped forward to face the man. The hyson leaned forward to bow, and Ehron, wanting to show the man the deepest respect, wishing that Daemon were there beside him to whisper what was culturally correct, followed his lead. The small gold medallion that he wore around his neck escaped from under his doublet, and when he rose, it fell against his burgundy velvet jacket and glittered brightly against the darker surface, catching the light.

  “Ah.” Ostyn Tan smiled broadly, taking everyone by surprise, beaming at Ehron after appearing so somber and stern. “Fortune smiles on us indeed. It seems we take a step closer to finding ourselves at the end of a great journey,” he said as he reached inside his coat and withdrew an exact match of the medallion Ehron wore. It hung from a similar chain around his neck.

  “By the gods,” Cerus breathed, and many echoed him as Nictorus and Ram and Mycah crowded around Ehron.

  “I received this of my consul,” Ehron told Ostyn, staring at the medallion the man held even as he clutched at his.

  “If I may be permitted to question this man as to where he received the likeness of the Empress Juto, I would be most grateful. Perhaps he knows of our beloved Daemon.”

  There was a choice. He could run. He could remain a stray and leave his birthright unclaimed and remain forever in obscurity. Or he could accept his place whether cursed or not. It was time to choose. The decision was finally upon him.

  Daemon.

  The name echoed through the room as Daemon pushed past Caseen, moved through the crowd, and stepped out into the space between the edge of the room and where the contingent from Narsyk stood before the archlord, warlord, overlord, and all the prefects and barons of Rieyn. He took a deep, quivering breath and raised his arms level with his shoulders before turning his palms face up.

  Ehron turned and looked at him, as did every head in the room. There was not a pair of eyes not locked on him. Ehron caught his breath as he saw the shudder run through his consul.

  Ostyn turned to where everyone else looked, and his breath caught in his throat. “The will of Hatsu be praised,” he whispered, walking around Ehron and dropping to one knee. He knew who he was looking at, of course he knew, under the cloak could be no other than the man he sought. He had been similarly clad the last time they had looked on each other. The entire delegation followed suit, unsure of their hyson but never, ever, doubting him. They were not allowed to.

  “All praise to the Emperor of Light, he who grants us our life and our death. All sing the glory of Jaron Siu,” Daemon said softly, tears running down his cheeks under the cowl. “Hatsu be praised.”

  Ostyn rose slowly and staggered a moment before drawing himself up and walking toward him. When he was only a few feet away, he stopped and bowed deeply. Daemon returned the bow even as his vision blurred with tears. When they both straightened after what seemed forever to those assembled, Ostyn lunged at Daemon and grabbed him tight.

  “Still you wear this mark of disgrace,” he gasped, leaning back and pushing the cowl away, revealing, finally, to everyone, the animal underneath.

  Gasps and cries filled the hall, and when Daemon tried to push Ostyn away, to cover himself, cover the cat that he was, the other man held tighter.

  “You fool,” he growled. “It’s a glamour that lasts because you believe, and nothing more. I wrung the truth from the witch before I took her head. It holds no power over you, none at all.”

  Daemon pushed free and breathed. His eyes tore around the room, looking, searching, until they landed on Gareth. He expected to see fear, loathing, and instead found only the same expression from the night before.

  Love.

  Gareth Terhazien loved him, and so did the man standing before him, his best and truest friend, the man who had never given up on finding him.

  “We need you at home,” Ostyn told him. “I am hyson now. Jaron is—”

  “How are you thus?”

  “Jaron kept me with him as you would have once I finished my studies.”

  Daemon only nodded because his throat had closed up.

  “Hear me, Jaron now is emperor, and Arterus… Arterus will be a horror if you do not return and temper his rage with truth. He only listens
to you, and only you can be a bridge between them. He is still powerful. There are still men that will follow him to the abyss and drag innocents along with them. Transform now, save Rieyn from the giant of the west, save Narsyk from more civil war, and return to your station. You have lived as a beast. Now live as a man.”

  Daemon closed his eyes tight and tried to believe all the words that his friend spoke.

  “You are needed. Cast off this mantle and return to us.”

  Into Daemon’s thoughts came Gareth and his expression when he saw Daemon was a beast—unchanged, the love still strong and brave, a living, breathing thing. When he opened his eyes, he heard new murmuring and whispers. Everyone saw the looks of stunned joy on the faces of the contingent from Narsyk. They were a study in astonishment, relief, and adoration.

  “There is my friend.” Ostyn smiled widely, hand on Daemon’s cheek. “I have missed your face,” he whispered.

  A voice spoke then, and the tone was gentle, and the words flowed in a stream of sound that caused the hyson to rise and look at the scion as he finished addressing him. They moved to exchange places, Ostyn Tan returning to stand before the archlord, Irachis Qhan slowly advancing toward Daemon. All watched as he looked at him with swimming eyes and then bowed low. He mirrored his action, bowing before Daemon.

  “Great archlord,” Ostyn said suddenly, his voice startling everyone as it filled the space around them. Eyes turned away from Daemon and Irachis, all attention shifting back to the hyson. “We have no words to tell you of our joy in having Valian Shar returned to us. His brother, the Ko-Tai, sends you all his blessings. We look forward to working alongside you to secure the peaceful country of Crosas. We will be pleased to meet your regent and have you meet the one we chose as soon as you appoint one that they might rule together.”

  Cerus couldn’t speak. None of them could. No one could speak except Ehron, because he saw Daemon no differently than he had a moment ago. He could not separate who he was from the fact that he had been his consul for ten years.

  “Daemon,” Ehron called to him as he advanced toward him, Nictorus and Ram trailing behind him.

  “You address him with his title?” Ostyn asked, barring his way, as was his first instinct.

  Ehron stopped short. “His title?”

  “Daemon,” Ostyn said, looking back at him and then at Ehron again. “Yes? You said Daemon, did you not? This means ‘brother of war’ or ‘brother of blood.’ It translates to both and is the title of the brother of the Ko-Tai. It is not a name, Daemon, but how he is addressed at court and by our people. The brother of the Ko-Tai is the daemon, but he is called by his name, Valian.”

  “Valian?” Ehron breathed it. Never had he uttered it, not once. Beside him suddenly was Gareth, and he too said his name.

  “I saw him look for you in the crowd.” Ostyn Tan smiled at Gareth. “Are you his intended, or have you already spoken vows?”

  Gareth shook his head, strangely unafraid to speak his heart in front of the hyson. “In Rieyn, it is not permitted for two men to bind themselves together.”

  Ostyn smiled at him. “In Narsyk it is. To put limits on the heart is not the place of the state, only to ensure health and prosperity.”

  Gareth nodded. “In Narsyk I could claim him? He would be mine?”

  “Aye.” Ostyn smiled wider. “Though from the look on his face, I would say that you already have.”

  Gareth watched as Ostyn took a step back and bowed to him.

  “You will be his wudon, or consort, and when we return to Narsyk, the ritual of binding will be performed. You will love Narsyk, and Valian’s home, Deline, runs from the edge of the Corollian Sea to the mountains of Jerris.” He sighed deeply. “I have been steward of it these many seasons but look forward to granting the land and people to you. All that is his will be yours. Tell me your name.”

  “Gareth Terhazien.”

  Ostyn offered him his hand, and when Gareth clasped it, the other man’s smile was wide. Gareth felt a wave of energy go through him. It felt like rolling heat and made his teeth clench and his eyes water. He couldn’t breathe for a moment, but he shook his head hard to gather his thoughts, and the blast receded even as it left him shivering.

  “You loved him before he was revealed to you.” Ostyn nodded. “You will make a fine wudon for him, Gareth Terhazien. The entire state will be well-pleased, and you will be a great ambassador for your people.”

  He was aware of all the eyes on him when he took a breath.

  Ehron’s hand on his shoulders steadied him. “You are to be consort of the Daemon of Narsyk,” he said softly. “Is this your desire, Gareth?”

  He nodded, smiling sadly. “I will miss Rieyn, but to be caretaker of the land, Daemon’s land and mine… how could I want for anything more?”

  “My mind reels!” Cerus announced loudly, capturing everyone’s attention. “Let us hear more from Ostyn Tan, the Hyson of Narsyk.”

  Everyone looked to Ostyn and found Valian suddenly beside him. They stood together now, whispering urgently. All saw Valian’s hand pressed between Ostyn’s two palms.

  “Great archlord, it seems that you have sheltered the daemon, though you knew it not. We ask now for your indulgence as we suspend our speech with you so that he may greet his brother.”

  “Greet him?” Cerus asked. “I understand this not.”

  Ostyn Tan lifted his hand from Valian’s and then presented Irachis with his outstretched palm. “I give you the Scion, the Portal of Narsyk, Irachis Qhan, the eyes of the Ko-Tai.”

  All eyes moved to Irachis as he stepped forward alone into the newly made circle of the nobility of Rieyn. He stretched his arms wide to each side, and as he did, it seemed as though he drew light to him. It was subtle at first, something one saw out of the corner of the eye, taken for a trick of the shadows or a flight of imagination. And then there were the murmurs for the gods to protect them from the aberration as Irachis Qhan threw his head back as shards of light came from every corner of the room and slowly illuminated him. The grimace of pain was clear as beads of sweat collected on his forehead and his hands clenched into fists. A blue light hovered around him, first as small as a child’s fist and then suddenly three times the size of the scion. The wind rose out of nowhere and whipped through the Hall of Judgment, sending the fallen rose petals into the air like a snow flurry. The blue light paled to opalescence and then became clear as it took up an unwavering position over his head. The cries came loud with murmurs of shock and disbelief, everyone knowing at once that had they not been here to see for themselves, they would never had believed it possible. For where there had been nothing a few moments before, there was now a window that had opened to Narsyk.

  There was at once a long roofed walkway that attached one section of a house to another. So quiet, so peaceful, and there came the drifting aroma of quince tea. Everyone started. Even Nictorus gasped, as he could smell the heavy, humid air rife with the fragrance of djarny blossoms and wet dirt. Suddenly all eyes saw a figure standing on an ornately carved wooden bridge, painted bright red, that curved up over the meandering garden pond.

  There came a rush of quick movement, a blur of the portal, and then a man filled the vision of all those collected in the hall. Cerus saw the delegation of Narsyk go to their knees along with Valian. He turned to Nictorus and saw his eyes widen. When he turned back to the sight before him, he saw what had made the warlord gape in wonder. They were looking at the man, and he was clearly looking back at all of them. The level gaze left no mistake that he could see everyone in the room.

  “My humble greetings to you, mighty archlord,” the man said softly, his voice ominously low. “May the house of Tapal ever prosper.”

  Cerus wasn’t sure if he should speak or not. He was too stunned to do anything more than bow.

  The show of respect was returned, but only slightly. It was the barest of acknowledgements before the man turned his attention to the others.

  “I am the Ko-Tai of Narsyk, Jaron S
iu, and I send all my blessings to you at the deliverance of my brother, the Daemon, Valian Shar.”

  His eyes came to rest on Valian then, and everyone saw them fill as he regarded him. “I am so pleased you live.”

  Raising his head off the polished marble floor of the Hall of Judgment, Valian regarded his brother.

  He was dressed for war. Valian knew that to the men and women of Rieyn, the sight of him now had to be terrifying. From the enormous black lacquered helmet to the plated body armor and chain mail, arm- and leg-armor, to the long sword that hung at his waist, he looked vicious. Nictorus took in the smaller sword thrust through the sash, also at his waist, as well as the dagger fastened around this right thigh. The weight of the armor was carried on the neck and shoulders. Jaron was tall with broad shoulders and a wide chest and back. His features were not soft and delicate but chiseled: a straight nose, sculpted mouth, hard line of jaw. And finally the dark brown eyes, not dark, warm liquid, but hard. Unlike Valian with his warm bearing, he was able to stand completely still and offer threatening menace.

  “You and Arterus must speak,” Valian said, his voice the only sound in the hall, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “And bring an end to this strife between you.”

  “If he comes in your presence, I would see him.”

  Valian rose to smile at his brother before turning to look at Gareth. “Come.”

  Gareth moved quickly to the man’s side. When he was close enough, Valian reached for his hand and drew him close.

  “I would present Gareth Terhazien, son of Torbald Terhazien, baron of Rieyn.” He took a breath. “He is my… my….” He wasn’t sure what to say. Nothing had been discussed between them, and he realized he had been hasty in calling Gareth to him.

  “I am his wudon,” he told Jaron levelly, having never seen a more frightening man. “And I will be returning with him to your home, mighty Ko-Tai.”

  Jaron nodded. “I am pleased that my brother has not been alone and welcome you, Gareth Terhazien, to Narsyk. I will look forward to your counsel when dealing with the regent that your kingdom will place in Crosas. It would be best if you knew the man.”