“What are you doing here, Master?”
The smile faded, and he shook his head ruefully. “I fear we are in danger. After all these years, your father has finally come forth—at the side of the one who stole your mother's sword.”
Her mouth dropped open, a flame of fury kindling in her chest. “That boy! I knew it!”
“We have prepared you as best we could, my dear, but the time has come for you to face him. To slay him, and claim the Ravager as is your birthright. Are you ready?”
She tried to say yes! but the word caught in her throat. She had waited so long for this, but some part of her had hoped it wouldn't come. Few memories remained from her childhood, but whenever she thought of that man, her father, she felt a pain in the place where humans kept their hearts.
“I— I— Yes,” she said, because she could not refuse, no matter how terrified she felt.
Her master smiled and said, “Good. We start now.”
Coda
Marks passed as the throne room slowly collapsed around them. The Palace's white roof slumped, then shredded, cold wind cutting through the great shrouds that hung from its ribs. The walls peeled like old skin to reveal fine honeycomb patterns; the throne sagged bizarrely, seat collapsing, arms coming apart like skeins of yarn.
Cob kept watch as best he could. With each passing moment, his burns hurt worse, making him grind his teeth and scratch at the floor to keep from scratching the injury. The hollow numbness of the Void beckoned, but he knew what would happen if he gave in again.
He thought the others slept, but without the Guardian's senses he couldn't be sure. They both needed it—Arik spiritually injured by his act of anger, Enkhaelen perhaps crippled by his ordeal. When Cob had imagined the end of his journey, it hadn't been like this.
Hadn't been like anything, really. Staring at the unraveling throne, he could admit to himself that he'd come here to die. In that regard, he wasn't so different from Enkhaelen.
Now dying wasn't an option for either of them. After the Seals, he would return to Cantorin, find Fiora, and fix whatever it was they had between them. Find the others—Lark, Weshker, Ammala Cray—and apologize. Make amends in some other way than flinging himself into the Light.
He didn't know how, yet, but he'd figure it out.
At some point, his eyes must have closed and failed to open, because he startled awake at a nudge to the shoulder. Arik loomed there in wolfman form, muzzle still blood-flecked, and gestured forward with his clawed hand.
Ahead, the dais and wall had split, exposing the stone beneath. Steps curved up into shred-hung darkness.
“We ready?” said Cob, levering himself up. His whole body ached. Arik nodded, then moved to assist Enkhaelen as he tried to rise. The necromancer managed to get his feet beneath him, but when it came time to straighten and stand, his legs folded uselessly; only the skinchanger's grip kept him from the floor.
“Just carry me,” Enkhaelen said, annoyance written deep into his face. “Don't have the strength to puppeteer myself right now.”
Cob traded a wary glance with Arik; for all the necromancer's apparent acquiescence, they both knew how dangerous he was. But Arik nodded and scooped the small man up, then slung him across his shoulders for a one-handed soldier's carry. The necromancer muttered a few curses, but didn't struggle.
On they went, their way lit by Enkhaelen's single dim mage-light. A frisson ran up Cob's spine when he set foot on the stone steps—part cold and part tension, uncertain what they would find above—but it faded quickly with the monotony of the climb. The first leg of it went on under a persistent shroud of loosened Palace material, which flickered and billowed with the wind outside. It insulated them, and he dreaded the time when they would be exposed.
The Needle path spiraled slowly upward, sandy-colored stone pitted by the Palace's grip. They walked in a tall groove that some unknown hand had carved here centuries or perhaps millennia ago. Each step was nearly a foot high, and soon Cob's legs burned with effort—another reminder of the Guardian's absence.
The cold intensified the further they went. Barefoot and clad in only an undershirt and breeches, Cob weathered it as best he could, but by the time the last Palace fibers peeled away, he was shivering, toes numb and scorched arm aching. As the wind knifed in, he paused a moment to steel himself, then pushed forward again at a steady pace.
Above, the night sky wheeled slowly, bright despite the darkened moons: the Chain of Ydgys rising broadly in the east, the Eye of Night setting westward in its ring of leviathan and phoenix. Between them, the vast panoply of stars winked down their sharp and distant lights.
Time passed like meltwater dripping, each footfall a universe to itself. He never looked down; the stairs weren't broad enough to prevent vertigo, and he had no desire to see the city below. His breath and the whistling wind became all he could hear, and more than once he checked behind him to make sure Arik was still there. Each time, he was relieved to see the skinchanger's dark shape against the stars; even when Enkhaelen's mage-light suddenly winked out, he was there, climbing along in silence.
By the time they reached the top, the Eye of Night was long set, the Chain cutting a wide diagonal through the sky. Cob had not raised his head in ages, too stuck in the rhythm of the climb, and so when clear space appeared at his side he nearly startled from the stairs. The landing they had come to was not the true pinnacle—a final upthrust of rock stood at its back—but it was the last place with steps, and even in the starlight he could see the great circle carved into the floor.
Surmounting the edge, he stood there for a moment, staring around at the endless blanket of night.
There were other Needles out there, he knew—the lesser points of the Palace's tiara—but they were no more than shadows against the sky. Nothing impeded his view, but neither was there anything to see, as if all the land below had been engulfed by a black ocean.
Arik nudged him inward then, and he moved obediently toward the circle as the skinchanger lowered his burden. “Time to wake up,” Arik gruffed, shaking the necromancer a bit. Cob saw the man's eyelids flicker, then open as if forced.
“Oh, 'lready?” slurred Enkhaelen like a drunk. His pupils were huge, and the way he hung in Arik's grip did not inspire confidence. “Take me t' the middle 'n then go 'way.”
Arik looked to Cob, who nodded. With a huff, he hefted the necromancer again and moved cautiously through the carved rings, set him down, then scampered out of range.
For a moment, Enkhaelen just sat there, shoulders slumped and head bowed as if he'd fallen asleep. Then a faint yellowish light kindled from the central ring, echoed by a glow beneath his borrowed robe, and spread swiftly across the stone in a network of twisting runes. As the two outer rings triggered, Enkhaelen's dark hair curled up from his neck and away from his face as if moved by unseen currents, the golden light spreading through his skin to turn him molten.
Then it flowed out from his fingers into the stone, and a sensation of pressure clamped down on the Needle. Above the faint rasp of his breath, Cob caught another sound: distant at first but rising, as if approaching at speed—
He stepped back from the edge, which was fortunate because when the wind hit him, it took him right off his feet. In an instant the rising moan became a screaming gale, shreds of Palace stuff whipped along with it as it tore across the small plateau, and he threw his hands up in defense of his face as he was dropped to the stone then thrust along it by the force of the wind. Strands and leaves and chips of stone stung at him. If not for the overhang of the Needle's true peak, he might have been tossed right off the other side.
As it was, he fetched up hard against the rock, the wind alternately blasting and yanking at him with icy fingers. He couldn't open his eyes, couldn't hear, could only curl up as much as possible against its raking force.
It seemed like forever before the wind ebbed, and even after it stopped hammering him he still heard it wailing among the Hag's Needles like a tortured thing. He open
ed his eyes to see Arik sprawled flat, claws hooked into cracks in the rock, and Enkhaelen utterly unmoved. The light had gone from both his skin and the sigils.
“Coulda warned us,” Cob grated as he got up.
The necromancer turned a hollowed look toward him. “My apologies. The cold and the dark are...not conducive to clear thinking. Though I suppose we're fortunate it's winter, else the energy in warmer air could have made that last for marks.”
“The Seal's reset?”
“This one, yes.”
“What next?”
“I rest,” said the necromancer. “Then...Aekhaelesgeria probably, in the Corvish mountains. Though I would like to return to my sanctum first. I can open a portal to there in the morning, which should be about...”
He looked up, and Cob tried to follow his gaze, but the stars had never meant much to him beyond his fear of the Eye. He knew some people could tell time by them, or direction, or a hundred other clever things, but he wasn't clever. Not at all.
“Cob?”
He squinted. Enkhaelen's voice sounded strange, but he had not remade his mage-light and it was hard to discern his expression in the darkness. “What?”
“Do you know how long we were climbing?”
So little had happened on the way up that it was difficult to gauge. “Not really, but... I guess maybe a mark before we got past the Palace scraps, then from Chain-rise 'til now.”
“And what time did everything...happen, down in the Palace?”
“I dunno, midnight? Little later? Why?”
Enkhaelen was silent for a moment, still staring up at the sky. Then, in a slow, cautious voice, he said, “Eight marks since midnight, and it is still full dark.
“Cob... I think we broke the sun.”
Continued in Book 4, The Bloodied Army
Cast List
Cobrin son of Dernyel, the current Guardian vessel.
Dasira te'Navrin, formerly Darilan Trevere, a bodythief and ex-Imperial.
Fiora Kinrick, an acolyte of the Trifold Goddess, in service to Breana.
Lark of Bahlaer, a Shadow Folk agent and diplomatic liaison.
Arik, a quillwolf skinchanger dedicated to Cob's cause.
Ilshenrir Eisaia je'sa Vallindas, a haelhene formerly of House Mallandriach, now siding with the airahene wraiths and the Guardian.
Shaidaxi Enkhaelen, necromancer, Ravager vessel, Silent Circle and Inquisition Archmagus, and close confidant of the Emperor. 'Maker' of the specialists.
Geraad Iskaen, a Silent Circle mentalist currently in Enkhaelen's clutches.
Rian, a juvenile goblin.
Tarren and Wydma, servants of Enkhaelen.
Blaze Company:
Firkad Sarovy, captain of Blaze Company, currently stationed in Bahlaer.
Erolan Linciard, lieutenant of lancers under Captain Sarovy.
Weshker en-Nent, a former slave, now a Blaze Company scout.
Makoura Jaedani Yrsian, a mentalist and scryer assigned to Blaze Company.
Revek Voorkei, a foreign mage assisting Blaze Company by order of Enkhaelen.
Kanor Vrallek, Houndmaster-Lieutenant and leader of Blaze's specialists.
Savaad Rallant, infantry sergeant and senvraka specialist in Blaze Company.
Talvus Wreth, Colonel in the Crimson Claw, one of Captain Sarovy's superiors.
Aran Cortine, an Enlightened Messenger of the Imperial White Flame.
Independents:
Gwydren Greymark, also known as Jasper. God-servant disguised as a tinker.
Ammala Cray, widowed farm-woman and mother of Izelina, Aedin and Jesalle.
Ardent of Taradzur, a shadow-blooded Enforcer for the Shadow Folk.
Sanava en-Verosh, a rebellious slave in the Crimson camp.
Vriene Damiel, former Mother Matriarch of Turo.
Sogan Damiel, bear skinchanger and husband of Vriene.
Erevard of Cantrell, formerly Cob's camp-mate, now a White Flame ruengriin bearing an akarriden blade.
Imperials:
Aradys IV, the Risen Phoenix Emperor.
Kelturin Aradysson, Crown Prince and former Crimson General, now in disgrace.
Argus Rackmar, Field Marshal of the Imperial Armies, acting General of the Crimson Claw, and High Templar of the White Flame. The Emperor's right hand.
Lord Chancellor Caernahon, an Imperial advisor and aide.
Anniavela te'Couran, a lagalaina of the original batch, former handmaiden to the Empress and ex-friend of Darilan Trevere.
Pendriel and Nerice, servants of Field Marshal Rackmar.
Guardians:
Dernyel, Cob's dead father.
Liska, Cob's dead mother.
Vina, an ancient ogress who fought in the wraith wars.
Jeronek, an ancient Padrastan soldier who witnessed the Sealing.
Aloyan Erosei, an ancient Kerrindrixi warrior who fought Enkhaelen at the Seals.
Haurah, a wolf skinchanger who tracked Enkhaelen to the Imperial Palace.
Organizations:
The Crimson Claw, third of the Imperial Armies. Controls all territories west of the Rift. Previously led by Crown Prince Kelturin; now under the command of Field Marshal Rackmar.
The Golden Wing, second of the Imperial Armies. Controls the territories of the central Empire and northern border. Commanded by General Lynned.
The Imperial Inquisition, an order of mentalists tasked with mindwashing the Imperial Armies and interrogating its enemies. Led by Archmagus Enkhaelen.
The Sapphire Eye, first of the Imperial Armies. Controls the eastern Imperial territories and the Garnet Mountain border. Commanded by General Demathry.
The Shadow Folk, also called Kheri, a smuggling ring made up of employees and children of the Shadow Lord Kherus Morgwi. Led by the Regency, with Offices in charge of enforcement and other tasks. Nominally allied with the Trifold.
The Silent Circle, a supposedly-independent mage order under the Empire's thumb.
The Trifold Faith, worshiping the three goddesses Breana, Brigydde and Brancir. Allied with the lion-god Athalarr and the Shadow Folk; enemies of the Dread Triad. Regional leaders are called Mother Matriarchs.
The White Flame, a small Imperial army and associated priestly order dedicated to the defense of the Palace.
Glossary
Abomination, a biologically manipulated servant of the Empire. Also called a specialist.
Aekarlis, the Gheshvan name for the Ravager.
Aenkelagi, also called bodythief, a body-stealing specialist. 'Skin-thief'.
Aesangat, the Gheshvan name for the Guardian.
Airahene, a 'grey' wraith of the Mist Forest.
Akarriden blade, a necromantic weapon forged by the haelhene of Akarridi.
Beastfolk, a group of skinchanging peoples trapped in hybrid form by the death of their parent spirits.
Caiohene, the blanket term for wraiths. Their language is caioleth.
Dalurvykhe, roughly translated as body-magic. Biomedical arts and knowledge used by some necromancers.
Eiyet, a small creature made of living shadow. Said to be a child that died before it was named. Their language is eiyenriu. An eiyetakri is an eiyet-gift.
Eshar, the caioleth word for teacher.
Gestalt, a mental or spiritual connection between a group of people that allows them to act in concert and share senses or strength.
Gheshvan, the language of the ogres and the old tongue of the north. Some dialects are Ridvan (spoken by the Riddish) and Brinvan (the liturgical language of the Trifold).
Haelhene, a 'white' wraith of Ylwenna, the White Isle. Imperial allies.
Kai, a Shadow Folk enclave in the physical world.
Lagalaina, a female control-type specialist. 'Intoxicating woman'.
Muriae, the silver elementals of the Thundercloak Mountains of Kerrindryr.
Ogre, a member of the tall, tusked race that formerly dominated the north.
Rovagi, a mantis-like combat/surveillance specialist. 'Reaper'.
Ruengriin, a pain-insensitive combat-type specialist. 'Person-eater'.
Sanwy, the caioleth word for leader. Sometimes translated as captain.
Sarisigi en-dalur, a doppelganger-type specialist. 'Mirror of body'.
Senvraka, a male control-type specialist. 'Best man'.
Skinchanger, a shapeshifting individual bound to its race's parent spirit.
Thiolgriin, a so-called 'hound', usually controlled by a ruengriin. 'Wolf-eater'.
Copyright © 2015 by H. Anthe Davis
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Cover Art by D. D. Phillips
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Cover Background by FantasyStock
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Table of Contents
Part 5 Anamnesis
Chapter 1 – The Hospitality of Wolves
Chapter 2 – The Plan
Chapter 3 – Blaze and Shadow
Chapter 4 – Conversion
Chapter 5 – Tectonic Lever
Chapter 6 – Balance of Power
Chapter 7 – A Conspiracy of One
Chapter 8 – Blaze and Flame
Chapter 9 – Borderline ...
Chapter 10 – Salted Earth
Chapter 11 – Division
Chapter 12 – Future and Past
Chapter 13 – Hlacaasteia
Chapter 14 – Black Water
Chapter 15 – Lineages
The Living Throne (The War of Memory Cycle Book 3) Page 111
