Ashes and Blood aotg-2

by Terry C. Simpson

  Irmina frowned, her brows knitting as she realized something else. Their voices were inside her head, similar to what she herself did when she connected with beasts to tame them. Touching upon her Gift to control almost any creature, she pushed back against the voices, the minds, and expelled them.

  Gasps escaped the Exalted’s lips, and more than one wore wide-eyed expressions of shock. Within moments though, their features became serene.

  Emboldened by their faltering, Irmina folded her arms. “This would go easier if I knew your names.” Several sets of hairless eyebrows arched at her statement. “And please stay out of my-”

  A hand raised by the man with the stormy eyes cut her off. But the effect wasn’t just from his hand. Something constricted against her throat, preventing her from speaking. She snatched at her Matersense and choked back a yell at what she saw.

  Mater boiled around the Exalted in thick bands, undulating, overlapping and in so many strands and colors she was unable to separate each or discern the difference in the essences much less the elements. Elongated strands of Mater stretched from the man’s hand to her throat. As his fingers tightened so did the tendrils around her neck. A stern look from the disembodied woman, and the pressure eased. The woman cocked her head and stared at her counterpart. He sighed, and the elements retreated.

  Heart thumping, blood roaring in her ears, Irmina sucked in a breath. Her fear threatened to skitter within the boundaries of the Eye. By sheer force of will, she inhaled deeply several more times before her hand stopped its shaking, and her heartbeat eased.

  “Raijin Irmina,” the woman with the disembodied voice said. “I am Exalted Malinda. It is uncommon. No. I will be frank. What you did has not been done in five hundred years. So please pardon Exalted Buneri.” She tilted her head toward the man whose stormy eyes now flashed, his lips curling as he sneered. “This,” Malinda continued, pointing to the younger male in their group, “is Exalted Leukisa.” She motioned to the taller of the other two women. “Exalted Ordelia and this is-”

  “I’m Verturi,” hissed the remaining woman, eyes cold and dead.

  “Thank you.” Irmina bowed. “I meant no disrespect, but when you’re in my head, I find it hard to think.”

  “We understand,” Leukisa said.

  “But you must still explain,” began Ordelia.

  “Why the Council is alive,” added Malinda.

  “As well as Ryne and the one he’s linked to,” finished Buneri.

  Face a blank mask, Verturi merely tilted her head to one side.

  “The shadeling army attacked as I was about to strike at Ryne. He went to fight them.” Irmina kept her gaze steady and unflinching as she spoke. “Galiana Materialized with Ancel before I could do anything. The remaining Shin did the same for the people who were left.”

  “Those traitors are not Shin,” Buneri said. “Never have been. Never will be.”

  “Where did she take them?” Malinda asked.

  Irmina bowed, making her voice carry the appropriate amount of regret. “I–I don’t know, Exalted.”

  Buneri snorted.

  “And the others?” Malinda asked.

  Irmina glanced up to meet their eyes. “From what I overheard before they departed, they headed to Cahar and the port there.”

  “Hmm. How is it then that you managed to take the council?” Ordelia’s lips curved into a slight smile.

  Irmina sensed she needed to be extra careful around her. She shrugged. “You saw how many of their Matii are dead near the gates. I managed to defeat the ones responsible for the council before they Forged.”

  “Well, at least she gave us that much,” rumbled Buneri with a smirk and slight shake of his head. “But let me guess, Malinda, you will say to allow her to live.”

  “She managed to get us the boy’s father,” Malinda said. “Come now, Buneri, you did not expect her to challenge the Eztezian did you?”

  “Expectation and orders are two different things.” Buneri folded his arms, placing his hands into the sleeves of his robe. “The question is did she try?”

  “What you wanted would have been suicide,” Irmina said, “but I would have tried.”

  “Sometimes death is preferable to not making an attempt.” Verturi’s expression remained blank, but a certain glint in her eyes told she expected nothing less.

  “And if I died,” Irmina allowed her annoyance to drip from her words, “who would tell you that the man who brought those shadelings was himself a netherling? The very same creature, in fact, that once posed as Ryne’s bodyguard?”

  Not only did their expressions change, but their thoughts, their voices rose in a thousand whispers like the rustlings of a reedy field on an especially windy day. Concern, disbelief, but above all, fear skittered across those thoughts. Squeezing her eyes tight, Irmina tried to shove them from her mind. They receded to a buzz but did not completely disappear.

  Irmina opened her eyes and studied the Exalted. Brows wrinkled, lips pursed, Buneri waved his hand occasionally as he strived to make some point or another. Of them all, his expression said he was the least concerned. For the most part, Malinda simply nodded. Ordelia and Leukisa seemed to agree on whatever they argued. Verturi made periodic objections. Finally, they appeared to reach a common decision, and all gazes turned to her.

  “There’s a way for you to redeem yourself, Raijin Irmina. We know where they fled. We shall send you with a contingent of Pathfinders and High Shin to capture them.”

  Chapter 29

  Eyes burning, shoulders so sore she could barely lift an arm, Galiana monitored her two patients from where she sat on a slab of rock. The campfire crackled and danced like a spirit of flame, throwing shadows across Ancel’s and Ryne’s features. Periodically, she fed the two men a kinai potion enhanced with sweet fleshberries to help with the mending process. Both their faces appeared serene as if in some pleasant dream state. Their chests rose and fell evenly. At one point, Ryne had taken several sharp, indrawn breaths. Beyond that, both were healing fine.

  Pinpricks of dawn inched through the cave’s yawning mouth. The interior smelled of horse, smoke, and unwashed bodies coupled with a daggerpaw’s musky stench. Over in a corner near a small spring, their mounts stood with their heads down. Charra sat next to Ancel, golden eyes aglow even more so with the fire. Poking a branch into the flames, Mirza studied his friend. Whenever he glanced her way, he scowled. She shook her head.

  “I would not do anything to harm them,” she said. “I understand your dislike for us, for any Ashishin, but I raised you, young man. You have known me long enough to realize I am nothing like those who took your mother. Keep this up and I will set you on my leg and paddle your ass like the child you’re acting.”

  Mirza’s expression became defiant. His eyes were beads.

  “If you hate us so much, why choose to become a Dagodin?” She needed to find some way through his stubbornness. He was as mule-headed as his father, Devan.

  “What choice did I have with what we face?”

  She nodded. “True, but I sense there’s more to your decision.” Despite her proximity to the campfire, the thoughts of what she witnessed the night before sent chills through her body. Shadelings, daemons, vasumbrals, and netherlings. Knowing there would be worse to come did not help. All the while the world was mired in petty squabbles. She hoped Jerem was faring better than her with their other plans. Huddling into her cloak, she resisted the urge to shiver.

  “When the Pathfinders came I didn’t know why they were there or who they were.” Mirza tossed little bits of wood into the fire. “I got all excited about the hounds they had with them. I thought they were Dagodin like Father used to be. I couldn’t understand why Father seemed so afraid.” He shook his head. “After Father told me the Pathfinders took Mother, I promised myself that I’d never let your kind hurt someone else close to me. For that, I needed to grow stronger.”

  She understood. The idea brought a smile to her face. “At the same time, you intended
to discover any weakness an Ashishin might possess. After all, since you Dagodin cannot Forge, how would you hope to defeat such as I?”

  Mirza’s eyes narrowed and the stick stopped moving.

  “You have every reason to be upset when it comes to the Tribunal’s actions, but your mother left the Pathfinders no choice,” she added.

  The stick broke.

  “You hate hearing it, but that does not change the truth. I have taught you long enough for you to understand what happened with her.”

  “How do I know any of your teachings weren’t another set of lies?” Mirza’s voice was low in his throat.

  “Have I lied to you before?”

  “Have you? I’m not as stupid as some think. I know how the Tribunal twists reports to their benefit, even going so far as to use the Devout to spread the ‘truths’ they want told. I have seen some of my mother’s old books. They are different to the versions we were given in some classes.”

  Galiana pursed her lips. Mirza liked to read, but he always appeared slower than most in class. She smiled inwardly. To keep so much to himself and yet play the role he did was a noteworthy accomplishment. Wisdom in the disguise of foolishness. The boy she’d known had changed much since Randane and even more so since Stefan gave him the Disciplines. “To answer you, no, nothing I taught was a lie. I can tell you this: Pray you never feel the suffering a Matus who can Forge experiences when they go mad.”

  Mirza glanced over to Ancel, his expression softening. “Will he …”

  “If he uses his power with the necessary caution, he can hold it off for a long time, maybe as long as I have. Living as we do is a nightmare, but we do what we must.”

  “There has to be a way to stop it altogether.” Mirza looked up to her pleadingly.

  She shook her head. “For us, there is no if, only when.” She refused to coddle him. When any Forger succumbed to the madness, the elements became more volatile. The destruction left in their wake tore at the fabric of the world itself.

  The Pathfinders existed to lessen such occurrences. Disciplined unlike any others, they consisted of the minority who made no mistakes when wielding the essences. They survived longer and proved to be stronger than almost any other Forgers. In combat, few could stand before them. When dispatched, they took no prisoners.

  “You’re worried about them too, aren’t you?” Mirza asked as if he read her thoughts.

  She hesitated a moment before answering. Finally, she sighed. “Yes. They were at Eldanhill tonight. How many? I do not know. But if they have our trail it will only be a matter of time before they catch us.”

  “What if we fled to Ostania?”

  “Not a bad idea.” She hadn’t intended to reveal that was indeed her plan, at least not yet. “The problem is getting there before they can stop us. When deep in Doster, we will be fine for a while, but to cross into Ostania, we must take a ship from Damal’s Landing which means going through Ishtar. Even then, unless some captain wants to brave the Glowing Sea, we’ll land in Felan Mark.”

  “We’ll be travelling through Tribunal territory almost the entire time,” Mirza blurted.

  “Yes. Land with wards and Bastions able to pick out any strong Matii. Unless we find another way, they will catch us before we cross the Vallum of Light.” She and Jerem had come up with one way to make sure a portion of their people made it out of Felan. However, that plan involved Quintess and the Iluminus. The longer she was stuck here, the harder it would be to accomplish.

  “Why don’t you Materialize us there? Can’t you manage now that it’s only us?”

  “Materialization is not that simple.”

  “It isn’t?” He shrugged. “You open a portal between one point and another, step through, and poof, you’re there. Sounds simple enough to me.”

  Galiana smirked. “First, Forging takes a great deal of energy and mental strain. The risk of succumbing to the elements then is higher than at any other time. One of the main reasons why we teach Ashishin to restrict themselves. It’s even more so with Materialization. But even if the Matus could deal with the strain and had enough power, he or she couldn’t Materialize beyond the Vallum. It was built to prevent such a breach.”

  “So,” Mirza pursed his lips while rubbing at the stubble under his chin, “an Ashishin could Materialize within or outside the Vallum but not cross it. Well, just take us to the Vallum’s entrance then.”

  “And appear at the camp of the largest army the Tribunal possesses? Smart. Not to mention that it’s too great a distance.”

  “Wait …,” the young man’s brow furrowed, “if what you say is true then whoever took Ancel’s mother must be on this side of the Vallum.”

  “Either that or they made short trips until they reached Vallum’s edge then crossed.” She’d considered the same possibility as Mirza suggested when she tried to understand why the Heralds had failed to sense any powerful Forges or the shadelings.

  “Fine, then take us to Calisto or even Torandil?”

  She sympathized with his desperation to act. “Too risky.” Galiana shook her head. “The moment I Materialize, the Tribunal’s Pathfinders would know. Like I said, Granadia is littered with wards against such releases of Mater. Any powerful Forging will draw them to us.”

  “You know, for all your power, you Ashishin are beginning to sound pretty fucking useless.”

  Galiana never felt the Forge that knocked him on his ass.

  “You should learn some fucking respect.”

  She snapped her head around at Ryne’s voice. Leaning on one elbow, he had dark rings under his eyes, and his cheeks were so indrawn, his jaw-line stood out. Charra perked up momentarily before settling back down.

  Mirza scrambled away, glaring at them both, but fear evident in his expression. After a moment, he muttered an apology.

  “We need to leave right away.”

  “Why?” Galiana shifted to get a better look at Ryne. His skin still had a faint pallor. “Ancel still needs more time.”

  “In order to escape the Tribunal’s Pathfinders, I Materialized here.”

  “You did what?”

  “That isn’t the worst of it. The Exalted were with them.”

  Galiana stood abruptly and began to pace, trying her best to fight down the urge to gather Ancel, put him on his mount and flee. After a moment, she stopped. “There is no way we can outrun them. Our only chance lies in making it to Harval.”

  “First I must regain some strength.” Ryne climbed to his feet. “So does he.” He gestured to Ancel. The young man hadn’t moved. “The only place we can do so lies deeper into the Red Ridge.”

  Galiana frowned. To what was the man referring?

  “How do we get there if he can’t move?” Mirza asked.

  “I’ll carry Ancel. It will be faster than tying him to his horse. The sooner we leave the better.”

  “What of our trail?” Mirza stood. He bent to gather one of their saddles.

  “Trying to hide it will not make a difference,” Galiana said. “They will have trackers with them. Ryne, are you sure this detour cannot wait?”

  “It can’t, not if you want either of us to be of any use when the Pathfinders do catch up. Besides, where we’re headed should confuse their trackers for a time. What’s so special about this town, Harval, anyway?”

  “The one chance to put enough space between us and the Pathfinders … a Travelshaft.”

  Openmouthed, Ryne stared at her. “Those have been sealed for centuries. You would brave the mind-twisting of a zyphyl for a chance to escape?”

  Galiana could not help the inkling of fear that passed through her at the mention of the gigantic, silver, worm-like beasts created to protect the entrances to the Travelshafts. Even asleep, they warped one’s perception of reality. Surviving the zyphyl was a test all on its own. “At this point, I will do anything to save Ancel.” Her heart ached. “With his father in the hands of the Exalted, he’s our only chance of keeping our people together.”

  Ry
ne eyed Ancel then nodded. “There might be a way to give us more time if you can manage it.”

  Galiana frowned.

  “You said they will have trackers. Give them a different path to follow.”

  “How do we-” She cut off as the answer dawned on her. “A construct.”

  Ryne smiled. “Exactly. Give it my scent and send it in the opposite direction. Such a Forging won’t take much.” He pointed to the walls around them. “Not with all this material to work with. When you’re done, I’ll feed a bit of me into it.”

  Galiana almost asked if what he suggested was possible: wrapping one’s own essence into another person’s Forging. But then, the man was an Eztezian. He should know.

  Through the Eye, she opened her Matersense. The essences flooded her vision with their usual brilliance. Around Ryne, they shone even brighter. They flitted, roiled, and spun in half a hundred different patterns touching both his armor and flesh. Some disappeared when they did.

  Ignoring most of them was disturbing all on its own, but she managed. As a mender, the essences that made up Ryne’s appearance grew clearer with each passing moment. With a subtle touch to keep her Forging hidden, she kneaded the earth and metals within the Forms of the rocky ground near her feet to match the man.

  The ground trembled and shifted. A form rose slowly from the surface of a similar height and build to Ryne. For this, she didn’t need intricate details, which saved her from using too much power. She gave the shape the barest necessities for it to appear as Ryne from a distance.

  As she made the construct, she noticed the strands of Mater easing out from Ryne to touch her creation. They writhed around it and eventually sunk inside. When they did so, a breathtaking change took place. Layers of earth peeled away from her construct and in its place stood an uncanny likeness of the man, down to much of his essences. She gasped.