Ashes and Blood aotg-2

by Terry C. Simpson

  “Really?” Galiana smirked. “I cannot tell. Only a silly boy would refuse help in times as dire as these. Unless, of course, your mother is no longer a concern.”

  Ancel’s glare would have split rocks. “I want no help from her.”

  “Control.” Ryne’s voice was a low rumble of thunder. “Seek it. And show proper respect to the Shin.”

  “But-”

  “No buts. Master yourself.”

  Ancel inhaled, slow and deep. “She left us. She left me.” He paused. “At a time when I could have used her help. Now she’s back, as an Ashishin no less, and I’m supposed to say nothing?”

  “I know I hurt you, Anc, but-”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Fine. I had my reasons. There were things I had to do.”

  “Yes, I know.” Ancel’s voice took on a sharp edge. “‘Life and love are brutal teachers. Learn, adjust, and survive. Or die. Those are your choices. I choose life.’ Remember those words? I do.”

  “I–I.” She hung her head. “If I could change things I would, but I can’t. I’m a stronger woman for the choices I’ve made. Hate me or love me.”

  Ancel locked gazes with her. “I hate you.”

  A throbbing pain seared her chest. Why was she feeling like this? She thought she’d overcome these emotions. Finding out his parents might not be the evil people she believed only made things worse. She’d given up a big part of her life only to lose one of the things that really mattered to her. She took a deep breath. “If that’s how you feel.” She turned to Galiana. “Well, what is it you wanted to discuss.”

  “This first,” Galiana indicated her and Ancel, “but I see this is something you must sort out between yourselves. For now, set it aside. You have been hiding things from me, Ancel. What did Charra do out there? What is he?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Cannot or will not?”

  “I’m not allowed.” Ancel set his jaw stubbornly.

  Even after all these years, Irmina recognized that expression.

  Galiana tapped her lips for a moment as she studied him. “Very well. Shin Irmina, tell us what happened in Ostania, how you come to know Ryne and Kachien.”

  After another glance at Ancel, Irmina told her story beginning with her mission to find Ryne, to Kahkon’s taking, to discovering Kachien near the bodies of murdered strangers around Carnas. She continued, reliving the battle at Castere, but making sure to omit Bertram’s revelation of Ryne’s true identity. When she finished, Ryne told his part, repeating much of the same with the inclusion of Kachien near the Wraithwoods. All gazes settled on Kachien.

  “High Shin Jerem sent me to Carnas to protect Kahkon and to watch Ryne,” Kachien said, voice emotionless. “I did kill the men they found. They were all Amuni’s Children. When their army massacred everyone in Carnas and fed them to the shade, my own people were among them. I knew then my home was no more. I reported my failure to Jerem. He gave me a choice; help keep Ancel safe or take my own life.”

  “High Shin Jerem again,” Irmina said. “I’m growing tired of him moving us like players on a senjin field.”

  “Jerem does as he needs, but there is something else bothering me.” Galiana turned her gaze on Ryne. “Why would you need protection? Why couldn’t you have stopped all this from the start?”

  “There are limits to even my power. Besides, Mayor Bertram was another such as myself, under someone else’s influence. Whose? I don’t know.”

  Galiana’s brow puckered for a moment before she spoke. “Another thing, Irmina, you mentioned the dead men were all near kinai patches. Ryne said the Wraithwoods with the villagers were not far from a kinai orchard. Jerem told us something similar was discovered by you on this side of the Vallum.”

  “Yes?” Irmina furrowed her brow, uncertain where Galiana was going.

  Galiana turned to Ancel. “Remember that glen of yours and Mirza’s?”

  The mention of the glen brought back fond memories of time well spent in Ancel’s arms. The effort not to look in his face proved harder than she could manage.

  “Yes,” Ancel avoided her eyes. “Wait … you don’t think.”

  “It could be used for Wraithwoods?” Galiana nodded. “Would we even know who has gone missing with all the shadeling attacks? We still have not visited each outlying farm or small village raided since. It is time we did.”

  “No one has been there since my father?”

  “Yes, the Seifer and Nema patrols, but from what Irmina says, I would like us to send some of our own now.”

  “When?” Ancel’s face lit up at the prospect of hunting the shade.

  Why would he seem so enthusiastic? She still had nightmares about the creatures.

  “You will not be coming with us,” Galiana said. “I need you safe, especially with him here now.” Her gaze drifted to Ryne.

  “I agree.” Ryne nodded. “There’s no reason for you to take a risk. In time, with more training, yes. Now? No.”

  “A sensible teacher.” Galiana smiled. “The type I like and you need.”

  Rolt brought dishes laden with food to the table.

  “Well, I would not want to impose on you two any further.” Galiana stood. “Irmina, I need to speak with you.”

  Reluctantly, Irmina pushed up from her chair. This time she didn’t need to try to catch Ancel’s attention. He was staring at her. His eyes were chips of ice.

  Chapter 16

  Long after Shin Galiana left with Irmina and Kachien, Ancel sat picking at his food, chewing on a thin slice of deer without tasting it. He reached a hand up to the pocket where he once kept Irmina’s letter before he stopped himself. It was no longer there. He’d destroyed it the night he met Kachien.

  With a heavy sigh, he pushed his plate away. Almost two years had gone since she abandoned him. Now she reappeared as if nothing happened. It didn’t help that she was more beautiful than his savored memories. When Irmina left, she was a tad softer, but that had changed. The unmistakable mark of muscles honed from years training marked her now, and apparently not in her features alone. Her jaw line and chin stopped a hair shy of masculinity, but somehow, that tough exterior warmed his loins. So did her confident air and haughtiness. Maybe the attraction was a product of the rigors he experienced since this entire ordeal began. At least he hoped so. Yet, he knew it was more than that. He’d watched her move, taking in her sublime mixture of grace and strength, that when combined with her curves, he found intoxicating. To him, she was trouble personified.

  He thought he’d gotten over her, but seeing her again brought forth emotions he’d buried. Unwanted feelings. The worst of them left him aware of a love he loathed yet was unable to cast aside.

  His relationship with Kachien complicated matters even further. Her job as an assassin and the power she used, which at one time induced fear, no longer bothered him since he gained his Etchings. And she stopped working as a courtesan ever since she rescued him. The hint of a smile tugged at his lips. Mirza would have said whore. He wondered what his friend would think of Irmina’s return. Probably nothing good.

  Well, he didn’t care. She was the past, dead to him like the meat on his plate. The longing to rush into her arms and hug her had almost overwhelmed him until he remembered her letter. Two years. Two years with no word from you. He grimaced. May Amuni damn you to Hydae.

  Frozen fingers crept down his spine. He shook the feeling off, picked up his wine cup, and emptied the contents. Maybe he should drown his thoughts about the woman. Or call on Kachien. The time spent with her often brightened his temperament on days when his mother’s plight preoccupied his mind. Would it be the same with Irmina here? He couldn’t say one way or another.

  “You’re troubled,” Ryne said across from him, his voice muffled. The man was sopping up sauce from his third plate with a thick piece of bread.

  “A little.”

  Ryne grunted. “More than a little. I can feel you, remember?”

  Ancel let out a brea
th. He’d forgotten about the link. Over the past few months he taught himself how to push the connection to the back of his mind. He’d done the same for the links in the pendant and the sword. When deep in thought, he hardly noticed any of them. Ryne’s words made him aware of the ball inside himself.

  “How can you tell what I feel?” Ancel strained his mind toward the lump trying to sense Ryne’s emotions.

  “Eventually, you’ll recognize them as you would your own. The more time we spend close to each other, the stronger they will be come. Of course, you can always talk to me.” Ryne gave him a lopsided grin, and then stuffed the bread into his mouth.

  “I’m talking to you now,” Ancel said.

  Ryne stopped chewing to swallow. “There’s talking. And then there’s talking.” For the second sentence, his mouth never moved.

  Ancel gasped. Ryne’s words had come from inside his head. “H-How-”

  “Picture what you feel of me in your mind. Reach for our connection as you would the Eye. Sink yourself into it and project your speech to me.”

  Ancel attempted to reach out and touch the lump. After a few tries, he managed to caress it with his mind. He pretended the link was simply a part of his body then tried to make it a part of his thoughts. Nothing happened.

  “Keep trying,” Ryne said, “You’ve mastered entering the Eye so this will come easier.”

  Ancel scrunched up his face.

  “Don’t force it. Adapt it to what you sense, to what your mind tells you is available. Make it an extension of your will.”

  Inhaling deeply, Ancel made several more attempts, but to no avail.

  “Your mind is clouded now by your thoughts of Irmina. Once you push that distraction behind you, you’ll be able to properly link with me.”

  “She’s even getting in the way of my training,” Ancel growled under his breath. “What do you suggest I do?”

  “Confront the issue. Go to her. From there the rest is up to you.”

  “I told her I hated her. What if she doesn’t want to see me?”

  Ryne shrugged. “She won’t turn you away. It’s in her eyes. She loves you.”

  Ancel almost choked. “All I saw was hurt and loathing.”

  “You weren’t looking closely enough.”

  “I was.”

  “Were you?”

  Ancel frowned, and then narrowed his eyes. “You mean … the auras?”

  Ryne nodded. “The strongest emotions are the easiest to see. That’s how I knew you were going to strike the Knight Captain. You have this anger seething below the surface. The essences can use that against you, coaxing you to take their power. Become your hate’s greatest foe, and not only will you be happier, but your control will be much easier. A darkness resides in you, Ancel. Whatever the reason for it, you must overcome its pull.”

  The night of his mother’s taking rushed into Ancel’s mind. The voices spoke to him that night, giving him the power he needed to use the divya his parents had hidden away at the winery. Through the artifact, he connected to the temples throughout Denestia and tapped into the Mater housed in each. Exactly how the elements came to be built within them, he wasn’t sure, but he’d been able to draw upon them nonetheless. He unwittingly summoned the netherling with that power.

  Plates of its black armor honed to a fine edge, the gigantic beast stepped through the portal. Tentacles split into four along the ribs, shortening and solidifying into arms with skin so shiny it glowed. Claws tipped each four-digit hand. Slits opened where a head should be to reveal eight milky-white eyes. The face formed, jaw stretching into a fanged eel-like countenance. A horn stood out on the forehead, and two others stretched back where there should have been ears. Wriggling worms-like beings swarmed around the creature, floating in the air, each about five feet long, their facial features matching their giant counterpart.

  “Ancel. Ancel. Stop. Release your Matersense now.”

  Ryne’s frantic voice and a hand shaking his shoulder broke Ancel from his daydream. He shook his head, trying to focus. Finally, Ryne’s massive form appeared, hovering over him.

  “What happened?” Ryne asked. “One moment you were fine, and the next you opened your Matersense and began drawing on the essences. You held more power than you can control. More power than you have naturally.”

  “My, my mother,” Ancel said, his head throbbing. One hand squeezed tight around his mother’s pendant. “Sometimes I get these dreams of her. More like memories of what happened that night but as if it’s happening right now. I repeat what I did then, drawing on the power of a divya they kept in our home. Through it I–I connected to the temples and drew on the Mater they stored.”

  Ryne leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “An amplified link and Forge. One of the reasons I first came to the Setian. They used Forgings well beyond their means.” He appeared lost in thought, frowning as if he strained for something. “Hmmm,” he continued absently. He scratched at his long hair. On the back of his hand, a creature with features like one of the great mountain cats stood out. “To make such a link, there needs to be a catalyst.” Eyes shifting from side, he sat staring into the distance.

  “A catalyst?”

  “Yes,” Ryne said. “To create an amplified link or Forge, something must connect the Matii, the divya, the essences, and the resources used. Usually the catalyst is made from natural sources as they work the best. For example, to create a large enough Forging to alter the weather, the Matii would need to reach through each other, a divya, the Flows, and an extraordinary pool of water or heat depending on what change they wished to accomplish. In this case, the water or heat would be the catalyst. I never discovered what the Setian used when I was among them.”

  Ancel frowned. If you were in Seti at some point, how did my father not recognize you? Since the revelation that his father was one of Seti’s most brilliant Knight Commanders from before the Shadowbearer War, they often engaged in conversations about those times. His father taught him as much concerning military strategy as he knew, often quoting Henden’s Disciplines of Soldiering. Stefan would talk about all they’d lost and the times and peoples he remembered before the majority of the Setian perished in the Tribunal’s final assault against Nerian. Not once had he ever mentioned a giant warrior with tattoos covering his body.

  Memories of his father’s stories made him consider Stefan’s age again. Several centuries at the very least. He remembered something else. “The kinai.”

  “What?’

  “That’s the catalyst,” Ancel said. “Galiana told me. The kinai. They used the juices and wines my father was famous for along with my mother’s Gift to extend their lives, Forged through the divya at the winery.”

  “What time of day did they pick the kinai?”

  “Either at dawn or dusk.”

  “The Spellforge Hour.”

  Ancel frowned. He’d never considered it before, but now it made sense. The Spellforge Hour was the time the essences were at their strongest. No wonder the kinai juice was more portent.

  “Can you take me to this divya?”

  Excited by the prospect, Ancel answered quickly. “Yes. It’s about half a day’s ride by horse.”

  “I’m a little … large for a horse,’ Ryne admitted.

  “Well, the dartans are in hibernation so we can’t get there any faster unless you ask Shin Galiana to Materialize us. And I doubt she’ll do that, not after ordering the Matii to rely on less powerful Forges. She fears Pathfinders will come here.”

  “An honest assumption,” Ryne said. “Although sooner would be better, there’s some training you need before we go.”

  A bit disappointed, Ancel asked, “When then?”

  “A few weeks. Gives me time to get some much needed rest, and you, your training.”

  “Which reminds me,” Ancel calculated Ryne’s massive body where he sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, “where are you going to sleep? I doubt any inn has a bed big enough for you.”

  “Stables are fine.�
��

  “Master Javed’s,” Ancel volunteered. “He has space to spare, and he also keeps most of the dartans. You should be able to find a decently warm spot next to one of them.”

  “Sounds as good a place as any.” Ryne scratched at his unkempt beard, hanging almost to his chest. “Hopefully I can borrow a butcher knife from him and kill this thing.”

  Ancel chuckled. “I’ve grown quite fond of mine, but I understand how you feel.”

  Ryne’s face grew serious. “So tell me, when did a netherling attach itself to you?”

  Ancel eyed Ryne. “Charra? How did you know? His aura?”

  “No,” Ryne said, “his lack of an aura.”

  “So anything without an aura is a netherling?”

  “No, not necessarily, but no aura often signifies a creature not of this world. I had a friend who …” A pained expression crossed Ryne’s face for the briefest of moments. “That’s a story for another time. Let’s just say over the past few months I’ve come to the conclusion missing auras or ones that appear perfect mean something isn’t right. Nothing is perfect. In those cases, it’s best to be careful. With Charra, I guessed his origin.”

  “But how did you know he belonged to me? He defended Kachien.”

  Ryne climbed to his feet but remained in a stooping position, his head a foot shy of touching the ceiling. “Charra told me. Come. Take me to these stables of yours.”

  Chapter 17

  Despite the room’s warmth, Shin Galiana huddled inside her cloak. The hearth crackled at her back, the scent of the wood used within it almost making her relax. Lamplight brightened the meeting hall’s interior. The remaining members of the Eldanhill Council sat at their seats around the oak table. After the Sendethi attack and the subsequent shadeling encounters, they were down to ten instead of thirty. The number included the four who she’d sent with the other townsfolk to Torandil. The time to act was drawing closer than any of them suspected.

  Irmina sat in the chair next to her. She wondered if the woman had accepted all she told her concerning the Dorns. It appeared so for the most part, but whenever Irmina glanced in Stefan’s direction tiny creases formed at the corner of her eyes. To what extent she would take her animosity, Galiana wasn’t certain.