The Shadowbearer (aegis of the gods)

by Terry C. Simpson

  “We could run away,” Stefan said into the silky, perfumed tresses of his wife’s hair. “We could go to Granadia.”

  It took a few sniffles before Thania answered. “The house is watched. Who knows what he’ll do if we tried to escape and were captured. What I used to produce the image is the extent of power any Matii can Forge within the city. Somehow, the King has found a way to dampen our Forgings here. It’s enough to train with but not near enough to Materialize us away from here.”

  “Besides,” a female voice said from the sitting room’s direction, “you are needed here. It is more important than ever that you make sure your children are safe.”

  Stefan slid his hand to his sword hilt. He eased a step from Thania and the children to face the voice.

  High Ashishin Galiana Calestis stood in the open doorway. Stefan squinted. Or was she High Alzari? Or both. The same chiseled face, ember hair, and golden stare from when she left twelve years ago greeted him. Dressed in green and gold robes, hair in a tight bun, she kept her gaze focused on him. Twelve years and still the woman did not appear to have aged a day from when she mentored him. Her complexion was a little pale as if she’d spent too much time out of the sun, but that was to be expected when one visited Granadia, even more so when the visit meant an extended stay at the Tribunal’s Iluminus.

  Galiana’s brow quirked as her gaze shifted from his face to his sword hand then back to meet his eyes once more. “What a way to greet your old teacher and wet nurse.”

  “Is that all you are?” Hand still on his hilt, Stefan shifted, placing himself between his family and Galiana.

  A pained expression crossed Galiana’s face. “I should paddle your bottom.”

  Stefan ignored the quip. “According to Nerian you were key in setting him on his current path.” He kept his tone conversational despite the angry heat inside. “A path that may yet cost me my family, my happiness, and hundreds of thousands if not millions of Setian lives.”

  “He said that?”

  “Not in so many words, but you provided him with information you gained in your infiltration of the Tribunal.”

  Galiana’s lips twitched into a smile, but her eyes were frozen pinpoints. “Have you ever killed for your King, Stefan?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “Have you ever disobeyed your King’s orders?”

  “How dare you? Never!”

  The smile wilted from Galiana’s face. Her lips became a tight slit. “Good. The same for me. Until now.”

  “What?”

  A change came across her then. Galiana’s shoulders slumped, and she appeared tired, older, lines of worry about her eyes. “I gave King Nerian copies of several tomes the Tribunal kept in the Iluminus’ most guarded libraries. The tomes of the Chronicles. You remember those, correct? Written by philosophers and fortune-tellers countless years ago, they tell of things in the past and of events to come. Events that occurred since the Chronicles were written.”

  “Are the stories really true?”

  Galiana shrugged. “Apparently, they are. According to the Iluminus’ researchers, the people who wrote the tomes were the Eztezians and their direct descendants.”

  Stefan frowned. The Eztezians were great warriors, the most powerful Matii to grace Denestia. Said to be a part of the gods’ lineage, they were tasked with protecting Denestia from the shade. And from itself. Driven mad by their overuse of Mater however, they almost destroyed the world. Eventually, they created the Great Divide, which brought about the shade’s defeat. Then they turned on their masters, sealing the gods in the Nether to prevent future wars and the creation of more creatures like the shadelings. Stefan could not picture such men and women sitting down to write anything. If they did, what else had they included in such texts?

  “I see you understand the importance,” Galiana said.

  “And you gave them to the King. Why?” Stefan asked.

  “The Tribunal has been using The Chronicles for years to maintain their empire. It is how they can tell who would be their greatest threats and eliminate them beforehand. Seti is one of those threats. In fact, the Chronicles state Seti will overthrow the Tribunal’s rule but not how. That part is written in ancient Seti, a language several millennia old. No one knew how to read it.”

  Stefan eased his hand from his sword and began to pace. Some things began to make sense to him now. What Galiana said would explain why of all the kingdoms, the Tribunal had chosen Seti to be its main ally in Ostania. He stopped and faced her. “Does King Nerian know how to read it?”

  Galiana hung her head for a moment and then raised it to meet his gaze once more. “He found a way.”

  “And he’s using it to bring the words to pass even if it means sacrificing his own,” Stefan concluded.

  “I swear to you, I did not know. When I found out about the tomes and how the Tribunal used them, I saw this as a threat to our survival. I did what you would do. I made sure to manipulate events to see we would outlast whatever they intended. My loyalty is to our people first. When Nerian brought forward his plan for Everland and the Great Divide, I realized the chance to secure power beyond the Tribunal’s had corrupted him.” She squeezed her eyes tight. “Stefan.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “I saw Nerian’s translations. If he stays on this course, the Setian as we know them will perish.”

  Mind whirling, Stefan glanced over to Anton, Celina and Thania. His wife did not appear at all surprised by Galiana’s news. “She discussed this with you already.”

  Thania nodded. “It’s why I wasn’t at the celebrations.”

  “So what do we do?” He began pacing again. “What can we do?” Even as he asked the question, he wondered if he could trust Galiana. Everything she said so far was based on translations only she knew. But what if they were true? What if this was Kalvor’s warning?

  “Well, for the first question,” Galiana said. “You will have to do as Nerian says and lead his armies. For now, it is the only way to keep your family safe.”

  Stefan stopped pacing, his hand sliding to his sword. “I could gather the men loyal to me-”

  “I know what you are thinking,” Galiana said. “You cannot flee and you cannot fight him right now. You need to give me time to devise a plan.”

  “What if none of this is his doing?” Stefan found it hard to believe Nerian could have changed this much even from the conversation he had with the King. There had to be another catalyst. “I have my suspicions concerning Cerny. The way the man has come into power and the fact he’s an Alzari.”

  “I had my people inquire after him years ago,” Galiana answered. “They came up with nothing out of the ordinary. Which leaves Nerian.”

  “You believe you can find a way to stop him?”

  “To stop him? No. To limit the damage he does … Yes.”

  “How?”

  “The Chronicles lay out many possible futures. They also hint at events not within the books. The possibility for change is endless if caught before a certain point.”

  Again, possibilities revealed by Galiana alone. Stefan mulled the information over. If he was to act, he needed confirmation. Finding a way to draw it out of the King may be the only way to be sure. Galiana may have been his mentor, but Nerian had been like a father. “If changes can occur, we can save our people.”

  “Not exactly. The tome foretells that once Nerian received his copy of the Chronicles, that the Setian are doomed. There was talk of a remnant being able to survive.”

  “Does Nerian know of this?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it didn’t change his mind?”

  “He never wavered. I spent the last two years learning ancient Seti using the King’s own translations. When I went back to the Iluminus, there were a few more texts dealing with the demise of Seti. Nerian’s actions will bring about a cataclysm caused by a cult worshipping Amuni and using shadelings for their armies.”

  Stefan’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Dear Ilumni save us.” As he s
aid the words though, more doubts concerning Galiana’s intentions crowded his mind. Her knowledge seemed all too convenient. And it made Nerian appear as vile a man as any. Something Stefan could not believe. “What did Nerian say when you told him?” he asked, voice soft.

  “He said that is but one path. He believes he can prevent whatever is coming. At that point, I knew he had to be stopped. Which brings me to the second part of what you can do.” Galiana strode over to the table with the wrapped bundle.

  Frowning, Stefan watched as she picked up the cloth and gingerly unwrapped it. When the material fell away, it revealed a plain leather scabbard and a simple hilt. Stefan’s brows drew together tighter. A sword?

  “This,” Galiana said, reverently, “is the key, not only for your children but the Setian as a people.”

  Eyes full of hope she unsheathed a sword, its metal carrying the high silver shine of imbuement. A divya. But the way she held it out like some offering before the altar of a god spoke of something special.

  CHAPTER 9

  Unimpressed, Stefan shrugged. “It’s a divya. The King’s armies carry thousands of them much like the one on my hip.” He indicated his sword. “What’s so different about this one?”

  “According to the Chronicles this is an Access Key to another, greater divya,” Galiana said. “One able to unleash a power to rival the gods themselves. The tomes also state this is the way to ensure a remnant of the Setian will survive the coming times.”

  “Can it be used to defeat Nerian?”

  Galiana shrugged. “No one knows how powerful he is, not even me, and I trained against him on several occasions. I lost every session.”

  Stefan shook his head in resignation. “If a High Shin like yourself cannot defeat him, how do you expect me, a simple Dagodin, to succeed? The divya is useless to me. Nerian would kill me the moment he senses I’m a threat.”

  Galiana snorted. “I never understood why you Dagodin underestimate yourselves. You can do what we Ashishin or any other Forger cannot, yet, you complain.”

  “I think you overestimate us. Honestly, do you think wielding some weapon imbued with Mater is better than being able to Forge?”

  “Pwah.” Galiana’s eyes glittered angrily. “Has a Dagodin gone mad or died from the influence of the essences? For too long now you have allowed your fear of being a Matii and of Matii in general cloud your judgment. On some days, Stefan, we would trade our places with yours for some semblance of a normal life. The knowledge that our deaths will inevitably come because of our gift is a thing we struggle with every day. Imagine doing so while living to my age.”

  “Sometimes I wish I could live to your age,” Stefan retorted. “Many would give themselves for such a chance.”

  “Honey.” Thania’s supple fingers touched his shoulder. “She’s right. I dread the day when I won’t recognize any of the people I love. One moment I’ll be well … the next … I’ll be gone.”

  His wife’s pain resonated in her eyes. Truth be told, he wouldn’t trade his ability or his shorter life span for the longevity of any Shin. He couldn’t imagine not recognizing Thania’s beautiful face or her sweet voice. He was almost overwhelmed as he studied his children and thought of losing what he’d gained. “So how does the sword work?”

  “I’m not certain. The Chronicles were not specific about its use. There was a picture of a Dagodin wielding the weapon and the three elements of Mater flying off into a spire. I …” Galiana shook her head, “I think he was using the sword to Forge.”

  “Impossible,” Stefan whispered. The possibility of a Dagodin using a divya to Forge Mater in this fashion would change the scope of every war.

  “Normally, I would agree,” Galiana said with a slight nod, “but I’m inclined to believe the Chronicles.” She held out the sword to him.

  Gingerly, he took the weapon, turning the scabbard in his hands. The leather was of simple yet intricate craftsmanship. Nothing stood out at first, but upon closer inspection, he could not discern where one part of the material joined with the other. The pieces appeared seamless. He unsheathed the sword. Lamplight glittered off the blade’s edge. He was willing to bet the sword would cut metal if he tried. Runes and glyphs ran up and down the flat of the blade. A tingling sensation crept up his arm and through the rest of his body. He held the weapon out before him and frowned. The sword felt as if he’d wielded the thing for years, one with his arm, like an old lover’s tender caress.

  “One other thing about this,” Galiana said.

  “Hmm?”

  “It is said to be able to warn you if a shadeling is close.”

  Mouth dropping open, Stefan was at a loss for words. A weapon able to identify shadelings? A hand stroking his chin, he shook his head as he considered the sword. No wonder the Tribunal had kept such a thing hidden deep within the Iluminus. How many of these did they possess?

  “I can see your mind work, Stefan,” Galiana said. “I checked myself. The Tribunal’s Imbuers attempted to duplicate this for nearly two hundred years. Every one of them failed. This is the only divya of its kind.”

  “Makes sense then. They would have conquered the rest of the world long ago if they had more.” He sheathed the sword, unclipped his own weapon from his sword belt, and attached the new one. The scabbard felt as if it belonged. “How did you manage to escape with this anyway?”

  Galiana smiled mischievously. “I Forged a construct that was an exact duplicate. By the time they realized, I was long gone.”

  A sudden thought struck Stefan. “Why do you think this was meant for me?”

  “Part of the passage concerning the weapon … it said:

  ‘When the Setian once again become an empire,

  A King shall be blinded by memory lost and desire

  To wield the power the gods wrought

  He shall sow chaos as his lot

  Under the influence and with armies of shade,

  Man and child sacrificed for the way laid

  Mater feeds life, Darkness descends,

  Ever encroaching until the light transcends,

  Wielded by a warrior from the line of thorns

  The first part of the Aegis will see their ancient line reborn.’

  One eyebrow arched, Stefan asked, “That refers to me how?”

  “One from the line of thorns,” Galiana explained. “In ancient Seti, your name Dorn means thorn. Your lineage is what the passage speaks of. This sword belongs to the Dorns. Supposedly, only one of you can harness the power residing within it. Coupled with your triumph over the Astocans when the King officially declared Seti to now be an empire, and considering his plans, the conclusion seemed obvious.”

  “But you also suggested he will turn to the shade,” Stefan said. “That, I cannot believe.”

  Shin Galiana shrugged. “I would not believe he would try to tap into the Forging used to create The Great Divide either, but that is his intention. No one can tell what will happen then. The power in the Divide is as unfathomable and unstable as anything I have ever witnessed.”

  “Maybe he knows something you don’t? That none of us do?” Thania said, lips pursed.

  “Possible,” Galiana said, “which is why I wonder about the mention of the sword being the first part of the Aegis. If he found out what the Aegis is, that would explain some of his interest in The Chronicles.”

  “What is this Aegis?” Stefan asked.

  “The Chronicles refer to it very vaguely. It is some type of weapon or power strong enough to defend against or to protect the gods.”

  “You seem to suggest they’ll escape the Nether somehow or if they did, would need protection.” Stefan smirked as he touched the sword. “They’re gods. This is simple silversteel.”

  “Why the gods would need protection is beyond any of us, my dear,” Thania said.

  “Are you certain he isn’t aware of this?” Stefan touched the new weapon’s hilt.

  “Unless he can get someone into the heart and soul of the Iluminus past sever
al dozen High Ashishin, Raijin and worse, then, no.”

  Stefan whistled. “They moved the Chronicles into the Halls of the Exalted?”

  “Indeed,” Galiana replied.

  “So, until we find out how to use the sword, what do I do?” Stefan regarded Anton and Celina even now doubting the decision he was being led to make.

  “Nerian is willing to give you a year to spend with your family before he begins his campaign,” Galiana said. “He will use the time to recruit. I will translate the other parts of the Chronicles I have copied by then.”

  Stefan paced across the room. “I don’t know. If all this is true, if Nerian is threatening my family, if he is now a lunatic like you say ….” He shook his head. “Pretending to side with him, hiding my feelings might be beyond me.” Every fiber of his being told him to take his family and flee, but he also knew he could no such thing without guaranteed safety. Not to mention his men to whom he’d promised peace and a prosperous future. If this was all true, the lives of many rested on his shoulders. He stopped. What if Galiana is lying and this is some Tribunal plot? What if it isn’t? Stefan squeezed his eyes shut.

  “My dear heart, I don’t think you will need to hide how you feel,” Thania said. “For this to work, for you to keep us safe, you must let Nerian see your anger. Let him be aware of how this situation fuels you. Only then will he believe you’re sincere in aiding him in this endeavor. Anything less and he will be suspicious. Not only will he not let you close to him then, but he may take us anyway.”

  Stefan stared tenderly at his children, gritting his teeth against hopelessness. “What if he decides to take you all regardless of what I do?”

  “Until now Nerian has followed the teachings of the Disciplines more closely than anyone,” Galiana said, “including you.”

  “‘Demand honor but first show righteousness,’” Stefan quoted, temper flaring. “His recent actions violate the third Discipline.”

  “Unless he thinks what he’s doing is righteous,” Thania countered.