“What reasons could be good enough to hide the past from our people?” Elihu said harshly.
“You must understand,” Rekus implored him. “It is to protect the ronhym that we have done this.”
“That is not enough. Why have you hidden the knowledge of them?”
“We betrayed them once,” Rekus said, pain evident in his voice. “It must never happen again.”
Shakre and Elihu exchanged shocked looks. “I accept what you have said and I apologize for my harshness. Clearly you have honorable reasons,” Elihu told Rekus. “But still we must know of these ronhym now. We have to know more. Walk us into the past. Now.”
Rekus rubbed his face, then nodded. He looked around. “We should go somewhere private, where we will not be seen.”
Checking to make sure they were not being observed, the three stood and walked away from the camp into the darkness. They found a spot beside a small stream and sat down in a circle. Rekus leaned forward and placed a hand on each of their foreheads. He gave a small push, and they fell back into the past…
Thirty-two
When Tarnin finished reading the parchment he crumpled it in his fist, walked over and threw it into the fire burning in the fireplace. It was nearly winter and the nights had grown cool in Kaetria, the capital of the Empire. Tarnin snatched up the goblet of wine off his desk and drank deep, the dark red liquid spilling down his chin. Then he slammed the goblet down and turned on Kirtet, his second-in-command, the one who had brought him the message and the only other person in the richly appointed room.
“Where is the one who brought this?” he snapped.
“Growing cold in a pool of his own blood, two floors down,” Kirtet replied. His long hair was oiled and tied into many braids. He wore a knee-length tunic cut from rich cloth and dyed red. Moccasins of the finest leather came to his knees. His arms were bare except for a single gold band around each bicep. Swords hung on each hip, the one on the right shorter than the one on the left.
“Good,” Tarnin growled. He was a tall, powerfully-built man, solidly muscled, with the deliberate moves of a serious fighter and he was dressed and armed much like Kirtet, except his tunic was dark blue. “The seal was unbroken?”
“No one else in Kaetria knows of this but you and me.” Kirtet wasn’t as tall as Tarnin, but he was quicker, and muscled like a cat. The two men had risen to their positions atop the Takare legions largely by virtue of being two of the best Takare fighters alive.
“Would that Genjinn stood before me right now,” Tarnin said, clenching his fists. “I would tear his tongue from his head and force it down his throat.”
“I share your outrage,” Kirtet said.
“We have to act quickly. By now the same message will have reached a number of others,” Tarnin said. According to the messenger, the same message had been sent to every ranking Takare officer across the Empire.
“My thoughts precisely,” Kirtet said. “I took the liberty of ordering the Kaetrian legion to be ready to ride at first light for Ankha del’Ath.”
“I want messengers to leave tonight. Immediately. They will ride to every ranking officer with a message from me, declaring Genjinn a traitor, and ordering all Takare legions to march on our homeland.”
“If I am not too bold, Legate Tarnin,” Kirtet said, producing another parchment, this one from his belt. He handed Tarnin the parchment. “I have scribes copying this as we speak and the messengers are saddling their horses. I knew you would want no time wasted.” He gave a slight bow. “If it meets with your approval.”
Tarnin scanned the parchment, then nodded. “Good,” he said, handing the parchment back and taking another drink of wine. “Make sure they ride within the hour.” Kirtet saluted and started to leave, but Tarnin stopped him. “Have the Ominati made any more progress with the ronhym?”
“No,” Kirtet said. “The creature still refuses to power the crystal. It continues to claim that stone power focused through a relif crystal is beyond what humans can control.”
Tarnin’s scowl deepened. “Tell the Ominati they have permission to use whatever means necessary to force the creature’s compliance.” Kirtet nodded and left. Tarnin poured more wine and walked to the window to stare out at the night. The Takare needed the power contained within that relif crystal and they needed it soon. Let that fool Urin think they were trying to get the power to save the city of Kaetria from the encroaching sands. Tarnin cared nothing for Kaetria. In fact, it suited his purposes if Kaetria was buried forever. It would make establishing a new capital for the empire that much simpler.
No, Tarnin wanted the power within the crystal for a different reason: to dispose of the only real obstacle remaining in his way. That obstacle was not the emperor, who posed no threat. He was weak, barely more than a boy. Tarnin had him in his pocket.
He stared out at the city lights, hating the place, as he hated the weaklings he and his people were forced to serve. It was time they took control of the Empire. Under his guidance the Empire would become truly great. His gaze shifted to the massive building to his right. The Tender temple. They were the only ones with the power to thwart his plans. That was why he needed the power contained in the relif crystal so badly. Stone force was more powerful than LifeSong. The Ominati had already made quite a lot of progress with it, as witnessed by the light source they lit their building with. But he needed so much more. With what could be focused by the crystal, he could finally move against the Tenders and bring them down once and for all.
Except that now he had to deal with Genjinn and his traitorous uprising first. The fool. Couldn’t he see that what Tarnin did, he did for the good of their people? Instead he sent out his letters, filled with miserable, weak puling about external power corrupting the Takare in their quest for internal perfection. Just thinking about it made Tarnin so angry it was all he could do to keep from hurling his goblet against the wall. The worst part was that there were plenty of Takare who would be stirred by such a call. That was why it was so vital to move quickly, to crush Genjinn’s rebellion before it could grow.
There was a knock at the door and Tarnin turned, surprised. Kirtet should not have returned so soon and no others would risk disturbing him in his quarters at this hour. He called out and one of the guards posted outside stepped in, a worried look on his face.
“It is the FirstMother, Legate,” he said, saluting.
That was certainly odd. “Send her in.” Tarnin composed himself, wiping away the anger from his face and sitting down at his desk, pulling some papers to him and making it look like she had disturbed him in the midst of work.
FirstMother Gwinen, a tall, imperious woman dressed in a white robe, her long, black hair braided and coiled on top of her head, strode up to his desk and tossed a parchment down on it. For a heart-sinking moment Tarnin thought she had obtained a copy of Genjinn’s treachery. Then he looked at it and saw with relief that it was a different letter. Relief turned to surprise as he saw that it said much the same thing as the message he had received from Genjinn. The difference was that it was addressed to the Tenders and it spoke of how the Tenders had lost their way, consumed by power and wealth. It concluded by calling for all Tenders to come to Ankha del’Ath and join the rebellion. It was signed by a Tender named Aballa.
“I know you got something similar,” the FirstMother said. “Don’t bother trying to deny it.”
In answer, Tarnin shrugged. The FirstMother had as many spies as he did. Probably he would have had word of this letter by tomorrow if she hadn’t brought it to him.
“Tomorrow, when your soldiers march, I will accompany you, along with a cadre of Tenders.”
“We don’t need your help,” Tarnin grated.
“This isn’t about what you think you need,” the FirstMother said, crossing her arms. “This is about eliminating a mutual threat as quickly as possible.” She waited, and when he did not respond, she continued. “You don’t like me and I don’t like you. Someday soon we will have our reckonin
g. You and I both know this. But that should not stop us from meeting this threat together.”
“I still maintain that we do not need you,” he said.
“Spare me,” she said coldly. “I know your soldiers are the greatest warriors ever, blah, blah, blah. But I have seen Wreckers Gate myself. All your vaunted martial abilities will avail you nothing against it.”
Tarnin considered this. She was right, of course. His hope was that when Genjinn and the other rebels saw the massed might of the Takare fighting men and woman arrayed against them that they would back down, or that some of them could be convinced to betray the other rebels. But he was honest enough with himself to know it was a weak plan.
“We can open the Gate for you. The rest is up to you. All we ask is that you capture Aballa alive. She needs to be made an example of.”
Tarnin made a sudden decision. “You and two other Tenders. No more.”
The FirstMother laughed at him. “And put myself at your mercy like that? How stupid do you think I am?”
“Then you stay here.”
“Oh, come now,” she said, taking a seat and crossing her legs. The solid gold Reminder hanging around her neck gleamed in the lamplight. “Think about it for a minute. Are you sure you want to leave me here alone while you’re gone? What kind of problems might I cause for you during that time?” Her elbows on the armrests of the chair, she steepled her fingers, pretending to be deep in thought. “Perhaps it’s time to root out the Ominati. I know they have peered into forbidden powers. I am thinking I can’t allow it to continue longer.”
Tarnin’s hands clenched in his lap as he fought the urge to attack the irritating woman right then and there. But he did not know if he was fast enough to kill her before she summoned her power and if he was not…
“Okay. We leave at first light. But one cadre and no more.”
She inclined her head with a smile. “As you command, Legate,” she said mockingly, then stood and left.
The bulk of Takare might had returned to their homeland. They stood there in silent ranks before the massive, gleaming blackness of Wreckers Gate. At their head stood Tarnin, with Kirtet on his right. To Tarnin’s left stood FirstMother Gwinen, backed by fifty Tenders, most clad in green or blue robes, a handful in white.
On top of the gate stood Genjinn and Aballa.
Tarnin wanted to rage and threaten, but Kirtet had convinced him to try a softer approach first. There was still a chance that some among the rebels could be convinced to recant their traitorous ways. If enough of them did, he might be able to win this victory without the help of the Tenders.
“It is too late for you, Genjinn,” Tarnin called. “You must pay for your treason. But for those who stand with you I say this: if you surrender now, I will spare you. You will be pardoned completely.” His voice boomed powerfully, loud enough for every fighter on both sides of the gate to hear him clearly and he knew that the Tenders were using their power to amplify him.
“I do not fear for myself,” Genjinn responded, his voice also unnaturally loud. “I fear for my brothers and sisters that I look out upon. I fear that it is too late for all of you. I fear that no matter what I say, you will not hear. We are sick, my brothers and sisters! Our wealth and power has sickened us. It is a sickness that grows stronger every day. What happened to the Takare of old, when the only power we sought was power over ourselves, when the battles we fought were against the inner enemy, when our wealth came from the purity of our path rather than from gold and jewels?”
Tarnin felt his anger start to rise. There would be those among his soldiers who would listen to such words. Talking was a waste of time.
“My words are not a revelation to you, my brothers and sisters,” Genjinn continued. “But what I have to say next is. There is more you do not know and you should.”
Tarnin and Kirtet exchanged a look. How much did Genjinn know? How did he know?”
“Along with our other crimes, we can now claim the crime of betraying an ally.”
Tarnin felt his pulse quicken. This was bad. The Takare prided themselves on their loyalty to those who treated them with honor. To go against this was one of the worst crimes a Takare could commit. To the FirstMother he hissed, “Shut him off! Do not let them hear him!” But she ignored him and it was already too late. Genjinn continued to speak.
“Some months ago representatives of Legate Tarnin met with our ancient allies the ronhym, those friends responsible for the creation of this gate you see before you. Afterwards one of the ronhym accompanied them back to Kaetria, for what purpose we do not know. What we do know is that the ronhym was taken captive there and he is even now being tortured to reveal secrets of power.”
There was an uneasy shifting amongst the gathered soldiers and looks were exchanged. The ronhym were their oldest allies, going back beyond memory. These were serious charges. Tarnin knew he had to act.
“These are lies!” he yelled. “The ronhym is our guest. No harm has come to him. Genjinn is only saying this to sway you.”
“Then explain why the deep ways are sealed,” Genjinn responded.
Disturbed murmuring arose from the Takare soldiers. Such a thing was unheard of. The deep ways—the massive complex of tunnels and caverns underneath the Truebane Mountains that was home to the ronhym—had always stood open to the Takare.
“We have tried other means to contact them and we have been rejected. When we asked why, they told us of the torture of one of their own. When we heard that, we knew we must act,” Genjinn said.
“Enough of this,” Tarnin growled. He gave the signal and archers released a wave of arrows. But Genjinn and Aballa were ready for that and they jumped down out of sight.
Only minutes later a messenger galloped up and slid from his horse. He saluted and went to one knee. “Legate Tarnin, I bring dire news from the capital. The Ominati have been destroyed. They are all dead.”
Tarnin drew a sharp breath, his hand going to the hilt of his weapon. Beside him, Kirtet did the same. They both looked at the FirstMother, standing with her Tenders a short distance away, both wondering the same thing. Had she chosen this opportunity to strike at them?
“What killed them?” he asked.
“No one knows. Some monstrous creature. It raged unchecked through the entire building complex and killed everyone. Then it disappeared. I was dispatched to inform you before an investigation could be completed.”
Tarnin motioned to his personal guard to follow and he and Kirtet walked over to the FirstMother. The FirstMother saw them coming and turned toward them. The other Tenders spread out in a row to face them. Tarnin felt the buzz in his bones and saw the faint glow around their hands that told him they had summoned Song.
The eyes of every Takare there were on him by the time he reached the FirstMother. Before he could speak, she did.
“I assure you, we had nothing to do with the death of the Ominati. I heard about it some days ago.”
“You knew about this, yet you said nothing,” he seethed.
“Because I knew you would react this way. It was my hope that we would have this settled already and be on our way before you learned of it. Yet we are still here, because you wanted to handle this your way instead of listening to me.”
“You expect me to believe this?” Tarnin itched to make the gesture that would unleash thousands of Takare warriors on these hated women.
“No. I don’t. But think about it. If I was going to move against you, would I be here? Look around you, man,” she said sharply, becoming irritated. “You are backed by thousands of your soldiers. We are only fifty. If it comes to open conflict a great many of your people will die, but we will lose. You know this. I know this. I would be a fool to attack you now. This attack on the Ominati is as much a surprise to me as it is to you.” She gestured at the gate. “Let us open the gate for you. Let us finish what we came here to do. Then we will return to Kaetria and we will learn the culprit behind this attack.”
“Your words make
sense,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “But if you did not do this, then who did? There is no other party with the power.”
“Are you sure?” she asked him. “I know that the Ominati—with your backing—toy with powers far beyond anything you can imagine. They tamper with forces within the Spheres of Stone, Sea, and Sky. Is it not possible they angered something?”
Tarnin pondered this. He could see no flaw in her reasoning. He shot a look at Kirtet, who shook his head slightly. Slowly Tarnin took his hand from the hilt of his weapon. Following his example, the gathered warriors did the same.
“Good,” the FirstMother said. “Now, can we open this gate and finish this?”
Tarnin nodded. The assembled warriors made a path and he and Kirtet walked with the Tenders up to Wreckers Gate.
“This won’t take long,” the FirstMother said. “Have your soldiers ready. You may want to stand back.”
The Tenders in green, of the Arc of Plants, arrayed themselves in a line in front of the gate. Behind them the blue-clad Tenders, of the Arc of Birds, lined up. Each of the green Tenders pulled something from a pouch she was carrying. The sun had set and it was hard to see in the uncertain light, but it looked to Tarnin as if they were seeds, though far larger than ordinary seeds. Each was about the size of a melon.
Power spilled from the blue-clad Tenders, coalescing above them, swirling around. There was a blur of movement within the power and glowing birds materialized out of it. The birds flew up and hovered there, wings flapping. The green-clad Tenders threw the seeds into the air. The birds snatched the seeds out of the air and carried them up into the sky. They flew over the gate and released the seeds, winking out of existence a few seconds later.
Then Tarnin and Kirtet could do nothing but wait, wondering what was going to happen.
The handful of Takare rebels guarding the gate looked up as they heard the seeds fall, several jumping aside to avoid being struck. The seeds hit the ground and burrowed into it. Within seconds they sprouted. Shoots tipped with sharp thorns shot out in every direction. The rebel guards never had a chance. The shoots pierced them, stilling their cries before they could be uttered. Every guard slumped to the ground, dead.
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