Ashes and Blood aotg-2

by Terry C. Simpson

  Ancel took in the rest of their surroundings. Sparkling with minerals, canyon walls rose behind them, stretching up so high they appeared endless. A waterfall splashed down a sheer cliff face that was black and green from the water flow and the vegetation thriving there. It crashed into an emerald pool below. From there, the water flowed off into a twisting yet short river pouring into the center of the valley to form the enormous lake.

  Whistles and singing calls played a medley of life, each refrain higher than the next. Multicolored birds flew in a dozen or more flocks toward fruit trees along the plains. Small herds grazed on the grassy slopes. Among them he spotted sheep and goats. Slotopes rolled along the ground in their shells, then uncoiled to reveal six legs, four they used to stand on while reaching up, tongues snaking out to snag leaves. There were also slainen, with their leathery hide, long necks, and backs lined with several small humps, as well as other creatures he’d never seen before.

  One in particular caught his eye. They were horse-like in appearance but with a longer, more tapered face. They stood maybe two hands taller than any horse. They ranged in color from an almost pure white to a light shade of gold. On their heads, about where horses normally had forelocks, stood what could have passed for horns, except they were blue in color and moved on their own. Not the flutter of hair from a breeze, but the purposeful twitch of life when the creatures flicked their heads or bent to graze. The appendages grew one above the other with the higher one twice as long as the lower. On some of the animals, their golden manes stretched down their backs meeting their tails before stretching out behind them. Those particular ones strutted majestically most of the time and made trumpeting calls.

  “What are those?” Ancel pointed at the beasts.

  “Kentens. The fastest animal alive if you can somehow manage to tame one. They can use Mater to port from one location to the next, similar to Materializing.”

  A large herd of deer pranced and played along the edge of the big lake, while other animals settled closer to the small pools dotting the landscape like glittering jewels. Several deer began drinking from the water when the lake abruptly roiled. Two long, scaled necks shot up from what had been a shadow on the water. The deer bounded away, but some were too slow. Large jaws with many rows of teeth and an eye on either side snapped down on two of the animals. The creature recoiled, the murky waters swallowing it and its prey.

  Ancel gaped.

  “This place is a circle of life and harmony much as Mater itself is the same,” Ryne said.

  “What is it called?” Ancel asked absently, his attention still on the lake.

  “An Entosis. It exists between the Planes of Existence, but is outside the influence of our time. That’s why the weather is different here than where we left, but it’s still a part of our world, of all the worlds.”

  Ancel scrunched up his face. “But aren’t the Planes sealed by the Kassite? Isn’t that why creatures cannot cross into ours from the Nether, or Hydae, or any one of the other worlds?”

  “Yes. They are sealed, but as I understand, if you travel deep enough into an Entosis you will encounter the Kassite itself. It can be crossed there if you’re strong enough in Mater. Some say you would need power comparable to a god.”

  For a moment, Ancel searched his memory for any familiarity but drew a blank. “How come no one has ever mentioned this … Entosis … in any books I’ve read?”

  “Not everything in the world can be found in a book. Only Matii of considerable power can sense, much less enter, an Entosis. I’m uncertain if even High Ashishin are strong enough.”

  That would mean … For the first time, Ancel noted the absence of Galiana, Mirza, and Charra. Their horses grazed nearby.

  “They’re here,” Ryne said to his unspoken question. “Well, all but Charra. They’re off gathering kinai.”

  “But you said-”

  “A powerful enough Matii can bring a few into an Entosis with him. Five are the most that can accompany me.”

  “If that’s so why isn’t Charra here?”

  Ryne took a breath. “We were being chased by Pathfinders. Charra decided to be a diversion.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t be too concerned,” Ryne said reassuringly. “Judging from what he is, I doubt they’re strong enough to overwhelm him. At the very least, they can’t stop him from escaping.”

  The certainty in Ryne’s voice eased the tightness in Ancel’s shoulders.

  “And in case you’re curious, he has more than enough power to enter an Entosis on his own. In fact, go ahead, open your senses, and take a look around you.”

  Ancel did as requested. Essences spilled around him in pools, waves, and bands, thicker, richer, and more complex than anything he’d witnessed before. Some of it had the viscous consistency of blood. They spooled and dived, congealed, intertwined, and whipped about in a display of dizzying colors. It was like what he’d witnessed when he unleashed the power to summon the netherling but multiplied tenfold. He recognized many essences, but others he couldn’t begin to fathom. He gasped when swaths of shade swept by him before flying off to join the others. The movements of the essences were more akin to living creatures, frolicking and cavorting along the light breeze.

  What he noticed next were the voices. He could discern those he normally heard, but they were muted in comparison to the constant susurrus of the essences here. They made no demands of him. Exactly what they said, he could not tell.

  “Amazing isn’t it?”

  Speechless, Ancel nodded.

  “These are the primordial essences from which the ones that inhabit our world are formed. The ones you don’t recognize are completed elements. It will be some time before you can manage to Forge those, if ever.”

  “What are they called?”

  “Prima Materium.”

  “How is it the shade is so prevalent among them?”

  “Shade is a part of most things, Ancel, as is light. Because men use shade for wickedness doesn’t make it evil. It’s the intentions of those who wield it that dictate such a distinction. I know,” Ryne continued as Ancel arched a speculative eyebrow, “some would say that’s blasphemy, but it makes it no less true. Remember when I mentioned the relation between essences and emotions?”

  Ancel nodded.

  “Apply those same concepts to the gods. It’s the touch of the gods that give each essence its individual aspects. Ilumni’s benevolence exists in the light. Amuni’s malevolence in the shade. Bragni would be heat, passion, anger. Rituni is cold, empty, indifference and so on. We Eztezians believed that at one time the essences simply were.

  “Imagine an ocean unaffected by weather or current. We think that the elements themselves were perfectly balanced and intermingled, but the presence of the gods changed all that. Yet, somehow, because the gods were opposites, they complemented each other and still provided the necessary balance and harmony. Now, man’s influence is repeating a similar process in Denestia, but with dire effects. Those are part of the differences with the essences here and outside. Think of the ones on the outside as being tainted.”

  Essences drifted down, coiling around Ancel. They caressed him as they mingled with his aura. His aura. He gasped. For the first time, he was seeing it while calm. He held up his arm. In a nebulous, soft glow, it sat an inch off his skin. He tried to touch his aura, but his hand passed through. The essences seeped into it, and he could tell where it grew stronger as the luminance increased. As they drifted up his arm, they twined into his Etchings. He became aware of each stroke, each line, as if an artist carved the drawings into his skin at that moment. Wide-eyed, he glanced up at Ryne. The giant man was smiling.

  “This is the secret of the Etchings. As far as I know, they’re the only way to harness Prima Materium inside an Entosis and carry it outside. You can then call on Prima’s essences at will. To a lesser extent, the Etchings will filter the tainted counterparts outside in the world, but eventually you will need to return here to replenish.�
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  As more and more Prima entered his Etchings, a sense of incredible power seeped into Ancel. It was like being at sea, thrust under wave after wave, barely able to gasp for air between each one. He felt as if he could accomplish anything. His back arched, and for a moment, he couldn’t think as the power suffused him. When the effect subsided, he heard Ryne continue.

  “What you feel now is a mere pittance compared to what you will possess as you gain more Etchings. That is why you must master the one you already possess. And to master them requires that you know the Tenets.”

  “The Tenets?” Ancel was still trying to piece together all Ryne had just revealed. To think more existed was daunting. Had he missed this much in neglecting his classes at the Mystera?

  “They are a set of rules, if you will, that govern the essences. They are interpreted differently by many. For us, they’re a connection to the Prima essences residing within your Etchings. With the Tenets, you can summon their full power.

  “When the gods initially created us, our jobs were to defend Denestia first, help those who couldn’t help themselves, and to build the world into something greater. When the netherlings added the Etchings, they gave us more. The power to destroy, to judge those we found to have broken the balance in the world, including the gods themselves.” Ryne paused.

  “You sound like a greater version of the Pathfinders.”

  “In ways but we’re much more.”

  When he’d read the histories of the Eztezians during classes, Ancel often asked why they did the things they had. How was it that Mater could have overwhelmed such powerful men and women? But now, he understood. The entire world looking up to you, expecting you to save them from every disaster, every plague, every war, from famine and starvation, worshipping you almost as if you were a god. All the while, the Eztezians knew the eventual effects wielding Mater would have. Such responsibility placed on the shoulders of a finite group of people. No wonder they folded under such a burden.

  “By your expression, I can see you understand our plight. It’s yours now, too.”

  The words came as a shock to Ancel. He’d never thought of it that way. This entire time, he’d considered himself as someone with a talent, yes, but not as an Eztezian. Well, wasn’t that what you were being trained for? To become one of them? How do I handle all this? He could barely manage his emotions concerning Irmina, much less the near overwhelming situation with his mother and his father.

  Immediately, his concern for them threatened to drown him. Where was Irmina now? Was she somewhere being punished by the Tribunal? And Kachien? Had she managed to lead the other Eldanhill refugees away safely? What of Mother … and Da … He nolonger sensed his mother within the pendant. He licked his suddenly dry lips. “I–I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

  “No one is ever ready. If I had my way, you would stay here until you had a full grasp of your Etchings and control over your emotions, but time is something we don’t have. For now, I’ll recite the Tenets that correlate with the strongest of my Etchings since one of yours matches mine. Then, I’ll teach you the next one you are strongest in.”

  “What determines their strength?”

  “Two things. One, similar to us, netherlings are generally more adept in one essence or another. They can use others, but as with humans, there is one essence to which they have an affinity. That determines the type of Etching they imbue into an Eztezian.”

  “And the second thing?”

  “I was getting to that,” Ryne said with a smile. “Number two is your own lineage. Although there has been much intermingling of races, a bloodline from the original Matii can often be traced in his or her strongest essence.”

  Ancel frowned, thinking. “Mine is light right, like any Ashishin.”

  “No,” Ryne said. “And that’s another thing. Over the years, the title Ashishin has become commonly applied to any Matus who can Forge. That wasn’t always so. There were actually twelve different types of Matii, each representing an essence and the gods associated with them.”

  “Twelve?” Ancel pursed his lips, and then he began to count off on his fingers as he spoke. “Ilumni, Amuni, Bragni and Rituni, the gods of Streams. Humelen, Liganen and Kinzanen, the god and goddesses of Forms. Hyzenki and Aeoli, the god and goddess of Flows. I guess I would need to add Annendin, the One God, but he’s supposed to represent all the elements in one isn’t he?” He frowned as Ryne nodded. “Are the others two minor gods?”

  “No,” Ryne said. “The god’s name is Entopi, he represents life and death.”

  “Sela,” Ancel added.

  “Yes. The Entoses were named after him.”

  “Do you know what happened to all the other Matii?”

  “No, I don’t, but stories predating even myself say that some left to populate other worlds in the Omniverse, setting themselves up as gods. But that’s a lesson for another day. Of the gods, there’s a race of Matii derived from each. Here in Granadia, where the Ashishin have ruled for so long, you tend to see mostly their affinity for light within the people. There are signs of others to a lesser extent, as a result of the original Tribunal’s founders and of course from those who emigrated from foreign lands.”

  “Like us, the Setian,” Ancel added.

  “Exactly.”

  “So who are the ancestral Matii of the Setian?”

  “The Alzari, among the strongest Matii, able to wield the Forms and the Streams.”

  Ancel gasped. Ever since the day when Jillian referred to Kachien as Alzari, he’d wondered about the name. He’d been tempted to search the library, but he asked Kachien instead. She’d reminded him of their conversation on that day outside Randane. He recalled her words vividly.

  ‘We are mercenaries. From the day we can walk until the day we die, we are trained to kill.’

  But that wasn’t the worst of what she had to say. When she told him the majority of her people now fought alongside Amuni’s Children and whatever was left of the shadelings in Ostania, he was left stunned. Was that their fate? His fate?

  “I know what you might be thinking,” Ryne said, “that it seems your people have always served an evil purpose, but that isn’t so. Nerian the Shadowbearer was under the influence of another, stronger power when he led the Alzari and the Setian down the path he did. A power strong enough to defeat even one of us.

  “Before and after the Shadowbearer War, the Setian and Alzari split several ways to try preserve the remnants. Some came to Granadia under the leadership of your father and Galiana. Others stayed close to the Vallum of Light, hoping to find a way to survive. Others became the Alzari clans we know today. Still, others, the ones steeped in their darkness, continued in Nerian’s footsteps, which eventually led to the War of the Remnants. By then, so much had been twisted by different tellings, that much of the true histories were lost.”

  “It-It’s just so much,” Ancel said. “So much I need to relearn, so much that’s different from what I believe or have read, so much I need to control. How could one people turn out this way?”

  “This isn’t just about you, Ancel, but the entire world.” Ryne’s voice softened. “Denestia as a whole has suffered, and although the Ashishin have attempted to shield Granadia from most of it, the effects are still there. But it is time for them too to understand that the world needs unity. I fear what has happened in Ostania and now here, is just the beginning of events to come. The netherlings saw you as worthy to become one of us. There has not been another granted the blessing of the Etchings in five hundred years.”

  Ancel’s eyes bulged, and his mouth opened. “But-But, that would mean you-you’re …”

  “Old? Ancient?” Ryne smiled. “Yes.”

  “Are you immortal?”

  This time, Ryne laughed, merriment twinkling in his eyes. “No. The closest things to being immortal are the gods. Despite what I told you,” he continued, “it doesn’t mean that you’re Denestia’s savior. Some will tell you differently, and some who look for a sliver
of hope may cling to you as if you’re expected to save the world. No single person can. No matter what any ridiculous prophecies say. Only the entire world can save Denestia from what is to come. You will have to work with kings and queens, commoners and thieves, the most pious and sometimes the most immoral. Our job … your job … is to get them to work toward a common goal. Survival. And the task begins with your own people.”

  A flood of emotions swept through Ancel. Whatever was at stake, it appeared many believed in him changing things, not only the netherlings, Ryne, and Shin Galiana, but his father too. He remembered his mother’s smile despite her dire situation when he unleashed his power at their winery. A smile that said she expected nothing less from her son. She and his father had gone to great lengths, sacrificing much to see the small portion of their people in Eldanhill and elsewhere survived, that their heritage still lived.

  No matter what was required of him, he would not disappoint. He would help change the fate of his people. He would help pave a new path. “Show me what I need to do.”

  Chapter 33

  Ryne couldn’t help his smile and the prideful swell in his chest. Not only did Ancel continue to show his potential for learning, which so much reminded him of Kahkon, but despite the hardships, he exhibited some of the strongest traits for an Eztezian-in-training. Indomitable will and determination.

  However, what he’d seen around Ancel disturbed him. In all his years, he’d yet to see the essences within an Entosis react to any being as they did to Ancel. They caressed him, appearing almost as if he and them were one. At some point, he needed to investigate the reaction. Training was what Ancel required most now.

  “Your sword work and creation of the construct was to focus on the connection between the essences and emotions,” Ryne instructed. “Where a normal Forger attempts to use the Eye to shut out their emotions against the essences’ temptations, we Eztezians embrace those emotions through our Etchings. They make us that much more powerful.”