The Shadowbearer (aegis of the gods)

by Terry C. Simpson

  Stefan slowed, allowing Kasimir and High Shin Clarice to draw abreast of him. Kasimir simply nodded, while Clarice’s eyes blazed. Stefan smirked. High Ashishin had a habit of thinking they decided who should move and when. While that held true most of the time, he intended to deny the woman any satisfaction. He needed her angry enough to do her part.

  A High Ashishin’s power was something to fear, but it was no different to facing a skilled swordsman in battle. He was wise to be afraid of either, but he could never let the emotion show. Showing fear, not fear itself, is a weakness. Fragility leads to death. He had no immediate plans to die. Not even on a full stomach.

  As they drew closer to the three Erastonians, Stefan frowned.

  The men no longer wore their oversized helmets. Their pale, almost corpse-white faces contrasted immensely with their armor. Black, wooly locks wrapped their heads. Matching beards coiled beneath their chins. One stood ahead of the others, the large spaulder on one shoulder carved in the shape of a lion’s head marking him as their King.

  Behind him was Guban. Guban’s gaze shifted from the King to one of the other men. Not once did he meet Stefan’s eyes.

  Something wasn’t quite right. “You may get to prove how strong High Shin are after all, Clarice.” Stefan eased his hand toward his sword.

  Black leather rippling around his wide form, the King took a step back. The Erastonian soldier on his left strode forward, drew a short sword, and promptly slit his own throat. Blood spurted to the ground as he dropped to his knees, bent his back, and bowed in supplication facing the Setian.

  A moment later, High Shin Clarice hissed. “I’m afraid I will be of little help. That one sacrificed himself so he could Warp the Mater around us. He has prevented me from Forging.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Stefan hauled on his reins, bringing the dartan to a halt, its neck tossing and turning at the scent of blood. Beside him, Kasimir brandished his sword.

  “They can’t Forge either, correct?” Stefan kept his eyes trained on the two remaining Erastonians.

  “Yes,” Clarice said, her voice strained.

  “Put away your weapon.” Stefan didn’t look, but the rasp of metal on leather confirmed Kasimir obeyed the order. “Stay here you two. Wait for my signal before you come to me. High Shin Clarice, at no time should you let them know you speak their tongue.” He expected her to protest being ordered, but she rolled her eyes and nodded instead. A yank on his reins sent his dartan walking forward.

  Guban stepped in front of his King, his gaze sliding from Kasimir to Clarice and back to Stefan. One hand rested on the hasp of the axe at his hip.

  When Stefan came within six feet of the Erastonians, he made a spectacle of slowly raising his fist above his head. As he lowered his arm, he unfolded his index finger and pointed at Guban. In a sudden move, he brought his hand down across his body and up, imitating a quick slash.

  A foot taller and heavier than Stefan by far, Guban flew to the side as if the wind snatched him up and flung him several feet. He hit the ground in a jumbled heap, dirt kicking up where he landed among the ploughed furrows of the field.

  The Erastonian King’s eyes widened then narrowed. His hand snaked down to the sword at his hip. He said something in his native tongue-a series of rolling yet harsh words. When he appeared to realize Stefan didn’t understand or care, the King took two steps back and made to turn.

  Stefan pointed at the King before clenching his fist and acting as if he lifted a heavy weight.

  Caught in mid step, the King froze. He rose a foot off the ground and hung suspended.

  Guban stumbled to his feet. “P-Peace, Lord Dorn.”

  “Now you beg for peace?” Stefan clenched his teeth against the urge to slay the commander.

  “We meant no harm in what we did,” Guban wheezed, blood dribbling from the corner of his lips, marring the white paint on his face. “King Jelani fears those such as she, as all the last of Everland’s Dosteri do.” He nodded toward Clarice. “We have seen the destruction when the madness takes their kind. In our land they are used up and disposed of quickly.”

  The name Dosteri sparked some familiarity in Stefan, but he pushed it from his mind. “Not in our land. Here you will treat them with respect.”

  “The King wanted to make sure she was no threat.” Guban regained some measure of himself. His gaze darted from the King to Stefan’s outstretched hand.

  Words issued in a low growl from Jelani.

  Guban started.

  “What did he say?”

  “The King …” Guban eyes shifted uneasily. “The King apologizes for his misstep and begs for you to release him. He will make amends in any way you deem necessary.”

  Stefan sneered. He eyed Clarice who shook her head. Whatever the King actually said, maybe it was better he didn’t know. Stefan needed to keep them off balance and fearful, thinking he Forged within a Warped area. He still had one last revelation to convince the King. “Tell him to signal the others hidden among the brush to the east. I came here in good faith, so should you. Didn’t we prove ourselves against the shadelings?”

  Guban translated, his words coming out in the harsh, guttural tongue of the Erastonians. The conversation went back and forth for a few moments before King Jelani nodded.

  Out across the field to their east, several Erastonians, their garb a lighter brown to match their surroundings, stood and loped the way they’d come. They had split from the secondary force when the legion disappeared below the hill’s crest. The slight change in numbers had been Stefan’s clue.

  Stefan waved then dropped his hand to his side.

  The King crumpled to his knees. Guban hurried over to his liege and helped the man to his feet.

  With a dip of his head, Stefan signaled for Kasimir and Clarice to approach. By the time they arrived, Jelani and Guban were standing straight. Guban’s eyes were wary, but King Jelani’s glittered angrily.

  “High Shin Clarice, Knight General Kasimir, meet King Jelani and Commander Guban,” Stefan said, resting his hand on his sword hilt.

  Clarice and Kasimir nodded while Guban translated.

  The King’s lips curled at the mention of Clarice’s title, and he asked a question.

  “The King asks why they will not dismount.”

  “Well, in case you planned something else, they will return to our army before either of you can stop them. Warping doesn’t affect us as you thought. So, in that case, we’ll see if your horde can stand against a real Setian army.” Stefan let his teeth show in a mirthless grin as he patted his dartan.

  Guban passed the message on. The King blinked several times before responding.

  “We bargain in good faith. Shall we begin?”

  Stefan nodded.

  After removing a parchment from a pouch at his waist, Guban squatted. He unrolled it to reveal a map of Ostania and placed a stone on each corner.

  “In exchange for our help ridding you of your King, this Nerian, and saving your people, we will require a portion of your lands. We also want the people that inhabit them to do with as we will.” Guban looked up.

  No surprise there. Stefan nodded. He would agree for now, but no matter how long it took, he would eventually drive the Erastonians back into Everland. “What land do you require?”

  Guban translated.

  The King said a few words.

  Guban drew a line with his finger starting from the Nevermore Heights in the north where they bordered Everland. The line continued south through Astocan and Cardian lands, all the way to the coast, cutting Ostania in half. “Everything to the east of this line.”

  A gasp escaped Kasimir. Clarice made a choking sound.

  “You’ll never get the Harnan out of the Nevermore,” Stefan said. “Not with the Svenzar to support them. To fight them you must take on the mountains themselves.”

  “That is where you come in. You and your Ashishin will help us take the Nevermore.”

  “No.” Expression stern, Clarice step
ped forward. “We will partake in a battle to free the Setian from Nerian, but we will not help you take any other Ostanian lands.”

  “Then we have no deal.”

  “The Ashishin and the Tribunal might be hated in Ostania,” Stefan said, “but if they offer to help free the land from both you and Nerian, all of Granadia will be at their disposal. With what Nerian has done, allying with shadelings, I’m certain more Ostanian kingdoms will side with the Tribunal. The Felani already have. The Harnan are with us, which means we also have the Svenzar. You suffered one defeat already by a small portion of our might. It’s your choice.”

  “By refusing, Ostania will fall to the shade,” Guban said, after translating.

  Stefan gave the man a grim look. “Yes, and the Tribunal’s armies will simply return across the Vallum of Light, leaving you to battle the shade on your own. When you have been weakened …” He closed his fist.

  Guban winced then relayed the words to the King who openly stared at High Shin Clarice. She shrugged.

  “Here’s what I propose.” Stefan squatted, facing Guban. He drew a line south of the Nevermore Heights, starting below the Mondros Forest. “You can keep whatever you already claimed since you left Everland.”

  “Bah. This is nothing but deserts and mountains near the Everlast Mountains.”

  “Setian land nonetheless,” Stefan countered. “We can help you claim these lands from the Astocans and Cardians. However, that will end at the southern coast, here.” He indicated the Misted Cliffs. “We will never beat their combined might at sea where their strength lies.” Stefan stood.

  A long conversation ensued between Guban and Jelani. The King shook his head furiously several times and indicated the Nevermore Heights. Whatever it was, the man wanted something there in earnest. There was no way he would get what he coveted. Even if Stefan wanted to help, the Svenzar and the equally hardy Harnan were simply too strong when within the mountains. Finally, the King growled under his breath and gave a reluctant nod.

  “The King asks what of this land to the east.” Guban indicated Bana.

  “No,” Stefan said. “We owe the Banai much. If he presses the issue we can call this off now.”

  The two Erastonians spoke for a bit longer then Guban said, “We agree. He asks how do we know you will not turn on us after we deliver your city back to you.”

  “Faith,” Stefan said folding his hand into a fist then releasing.

  A slight flinch from the King brought a smile onto Stefan’s lips. Stefan met the King’s gaze, exaggerating his confidence in reminding the Erastonians of the power they feared he possessed.

  After Guban translated, the King huffed and gave a slow nod.

  As Stefan turned away from the two men, he held in a relieved sigh and mounted. Behind him, The King said a few words.

  “We shall do our part and supply enough of our dead to keep up appearances of a deadly battle,” Guban said. “The King asks how you will keep what happened here secret among your men.”

  “Tell him not to worry,” Stefan said from atop his dartan. “All will be in place. A week from now you’ll be able to strike Benez and help me free my people. High Shin Clarice will arrive when the attack is to commence.”

  A pained expression, quickly masked, fluttered across King Jelani’s face before he nodded hesitantly.

  “Until then, peace be with you, and may Ilumni guide you.”

  Guban started, before translating to the King, who frowned, then clasped his hands, and gave a slight bow of reverence.

  Stefan returned the sentiment before yanking his reins to turn his dartan and trot away. When he was out of earshot of the Erastonians he finally let out the breath he held. “Well that went well.”

  “A little too much so,” the High Shin said dryly. “Do you mind telling me how you managed to Forge where no other Matii should have been able to? King Jelani asked about what you did almost as much as he suggested killing you.” She paused. “In fact, you cannot Forge, you’re a Dagodin.”

  Stefan grinned. “I would say I do mind and leave you and yours to ponder the question from the next several years, but you would hound me down until you found your answers.”

  “Well?”

  “First, I didn’t Forge.”

  “But-”

  “People believe what they think they see. Fear is a powerful thing.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “Me? I did nothing besides wave my hand and look fancy, but he doesn’t need to know that, does he?” Stefan waited for Clarice to understand.

  Kasimir caught on first, sucking in a breath as he did so. “You had another Ashishin close by but out of range of the Warping.”

  Stefan rolled his hand in front of him and made a mock bow as if performing at a play.

  “How …” Clarice began. Her brows drew together. “She or he was Masked. Risky. Any slight move on their part would have revealed them.”

  “A worthy risk in this case.”

  “It’s a wonder the Erastonians never suspected,” Clarice said.

  “Fear.” Stefan shrugged. “I simply used their own plan against them and their emotions did the rest.”

  “Who was it?” The High Shin turned slightly, her eyes scanning the area behind them.

  “You have your secrets and I have mine.”

  Clarice cocked her head to one side to regard Stefan. “Fair enough, but how did you know they would use a Warping?”

  “I didn’t, but if I was in their shoes, I would make sure I had some precautions against Matii. Accepting that nothing is beyond your opponent leaves you well prepared.”

  The High Shin nodded.

  They continued riding, no one saying a word. The wind picked up, dry leaves and brush skittering across the ground before it, as the foremost part of the storm began to drift over. Behind them the Erastonian war horns blared twice, the drums thumped, and marching boots rumbled.

  Kasimir broke their silence. “What I really want to know is how you plan to keep what happened here from reaching Nerian’s ears.”

  “Easily.” Stefan smiled at Kasimir’s blank face. “We were defeated. Dead almost to a man. I alone will report our failure to Nerian, while you take what’s left of the army into the Barrier Mountains. You’ll await word from me there.”

  Kasimir gaped. “Sir, you can’t do that. Or at least let me accompany you.”

  “I have no choice but to return, Kas. My family is still in Benez. Nerian has them watched day and night. Secreting the families of our men out of Seti over the years proved hard enough. There was no way I could do the same for mine without drawing more suspicion.”

  “I will have to agree,” Clarice said. “It makes no sense risking more than necessary at this point. Besides, Nerian expected you to be defeated. Whether he will play this out seeing you as his old friend or simply another who failed against the Erastonians and deserves to be beheaded is another question altogether.”

  “I don’t think I have anything to worry about there,” Stefan said.

  Nerian still wanted the sword after all.

  CHAPTER 26

  By the time they reached the encampment, the thunderstorm had swallowed their surroundings, turning late morning into dusk. The Erastonians had disappeared within the blinding sheets of rain, their drums, horns, and marching feet washed away by heaven’s bellows. With Kasimir and Clarice following on his heels, Stefan entered the tent, happy to get out of the rain and the sucking slog of mud. Torchlight flickered within the pavilion’s confines, throwing back the dimness the storm wrought. Outside, the wind’s howls waxed and waned, and rain drummed an accordant percussion.

  Deliberately not addressing her by title, Stefan said, “You know what’s required, Clarice.” He faced her and braced himself. “Get to it.”

  The High Shin’s eyes glinted angrily, and her face flushed.

  “I still don’t agree-” Kasimir began.

  The flick of Clarice’s hand and Stefan’s subsequent painful cry cut hi
m off.

  Heat spilled through Stefan in a rising wave, followed by stings and burning sensations all across his body. A final, agony-riddled surge ripped along his abdomen as if someone slashed his stomach with a sharp blade. His hand immediately went to the area. Blood spilled over his fingers. Fatigue attempted to suck him under as if he’d dueled a dozen foes.

  Gasping, he uttered, “Enough.”

  Kasimir rushed to his side and steadied him. “He said make it look good, not try to kill him.”

  “I hardly tried to kill him,” Clarice said, her voice bearing a hint of satisfaction. “Anyone who inspects those wounds will think he’s been in a deadly battle.”

  Stefan eased his eyes shut, gritting his teeth to quell the pain. “It’s fine,” he said in a raspy whisper. “If she went too easy, it would have been obvious.” He sagged against Kasimir’s arm.

  “Maybe you should mend him a little.”

  “No. Any competent Forger will be able to tell.”

  “Don’t do anything that wouldn’t seem natural,” Stefan said. Still clutching his side, he limped over to his table with Kasimir helping to keep him on his feet the entire way. “Here, this is where I need to go.” He pointed north of a town named Karsten. “A Travelshaft is there at a main stationing point for our forces. They’ll be able to mend me enough to get me home safely.”

  “I could simply take you near Benez,” Clarice said.

  Stefan frowned despite the pain. “I doubt you know the area well enough to Materialize me to the city. Even if you did, Nerian has wards placed all throughout the capital and its surroundings.”

  “So you are assuming I know this Karsten. You are also assuming I can manage to take you despite all the energy I already expended with my Forgings.” Clarice shook her head. “I need more time to recover.”

  Stefan coughed. “I assume nothing. I didn’t ask you to take me, did I?”

  Clarice’s eyes shot open. Immediately, she glanced around. “Your secret Ashishin is in here with us, isn’t she?”