... Stay with me, Gannah ... Please ... The woman’s eyelids fluttered but did not open. ... Your man waits for you in Deren ... You don’t want to keep him waiting, do you? ...
He strengthened his focus within himself and amplified outward more of the life energies of forest creatures thrumming around him. U’Nehíl, the “not nothing.” The technique had saved his life as often as his sword and his amulet. He tensed, bowstring-taut, ready to launch himself at this new threat, amulet in one hand, sword in the other.
Dozens of uniformed riders charged out of the frozen fog into the clearing. A tall, helmeted warrior on a black stallion emerged as fighters bearing the black-and-silver livery of Dar-Azûl province fanned out behind him.
Kaarl shot to his feet. “Tetric! Thank the Aspects! Hurry. We have wounded.” He waved the tall rider closer. He carried Gannah from the brambles as the Fal’kin reappeared from deeper in the woods.
Tetric Garis removed his helmet and quickly dismounted. “We followed the grynwen, thinking they might be tracking survivors who had fled Falantir.” He knelt beside the fallen young woman and grimaced as he peeled away the makeshift bandage.
“Defender, can you hear me?” He closed his eyes and gripped his dark silvery hematite amulet with one hand while placing the other over the gaping wound in the woman’s side. A glow emanated from the crystal. “Listen to my voice.”
The defender woman’s eyes flew open and she flailed her arms against the man’s ministrations as though fighting against some unseen foe. Kaarl struggled with her. “Gannah, stop. It will be all right. Lord Garis is here to help you.” He released her and stepped back, giving the tall rider room to work.
“Do not fight me. You will no longer be in pain.” Tetric gripped her wrists, immobilizing her.
Kaarl studied the man as he used the Healing Aspect on the injured woman. Fal’kin seers like Binthe Lima could peer into the skeins of time and anticipate an enemy’s sword strike. Others healed those broken and diseased of body far quicker than nature. Fal’kin defenders like he and the riders around him had the unique ability to release amulet fire. Nothing—not wood, not metal, not stone—could withstand the intense light of amulet fire. He frowned at the absolute futility of the Aspect at this moment.
Tetric, however, was something yet again. He held all three powers, an exceedingly rare Aspected known as a Trine—one of the few individuals in recorded history to be thrice blessed by the Aspects Above. More than once, Tetric’s presence alone had turned the tide of battle against the Ken’nar, sending them into retreat as he rode through the fray. He himself was known for his stature, but the Trine stood a few inches taller still. That only added to his formidable reputation.
At this moment, however, he cared nothing for the other man’s knowledge from the skeins of time, his amulet’s fire, or his imposing appearance. It was his Healing Aspect he so desperately needed now.
Morgan drew closer, followed by Binthe. “I had her under my cover,” the young defender said. “The grynwen—”
“Were everywhere,” Tetric finished, opening his eyes. He sat back on his heels. The wound in the defender woman’s flank had faded into pale scars across her dark skin, but she remained in the muddy, bloody, icy pine needles, her eyes open, fixed on nothing. He rubbed his face and gave a long exhale.
Kaarl cursed. This should not have happened. His troops were the best on the continent, with all the powers of the Aspects at their command. He had been warned they would be ambushed. Yet, somehow one of his defenders lay dead in the melting snow.
Fal’kin were created by the Aspects Above to protect all of creation and the Unaspected peoples. Or at least that’s what the ancient sages, who wrote the holy books, had said for three thousand summers. After decades at the battlefront, he wasn’t certain any longer if the Fal’kin, who had the blessings of the Aspects, could even protect themselves, let alone protect the Unaspected, who did not.
The forest stilled once more, save for the gentle pattering of rain on armor. Blood from the dead Fal’kin woman and the carnivores stained red the remaining shreds of crusty white snow. He wiped the sweat and blood from his eyes. He kept them closed for a moment, the emotion taking a few heartbeats longer to recede.
He rose wearily to his feet and opened his eyes. He reached to grasp the chain of Gannah’s amulet when the Trine stayed his hand.
“Leave it.”
The fallen woman’s amulet glowed, golden light from the yellow sapphire emanating between the man’s fingers. Was she still alive? No. He was being a fool. Tetric’s touch ignited it, not Gannah. A Trine could connect with any amulet, chosen or free, not just the one oh-so-ineffectual crystal that hung heavily from his own neck. “Her man will want it.”
“I will not remove it from her as if she were a criminal,” Tetric replied. “Her man. He will understand.”
Binthe stepped closer to Kaarl. The fair skin of her face grew paler against her cold-reddened cheeks. “Gannah and I came to the il’Kin together. Both of us were so far from home. I will bring the news of her death to her family.”
“I will send word to her family and her man in Jad-Anüna. That is my responsibility. Not yours.”
The heavy rain began to turn into ice once more, so many needles stinging his face. “We can do nothing more for her,” he said to the rest of his troops. “The scent of blood will draw more grynwen. We had best leave now.”
As he walked back to his mount, he said to Tetric, “How long have the Ken’nar been in Falantir?”
The Trine pursed his lips. “I would guess they’ve been there for some time. I sense no urgency among their minds.”
“Meaning they’ve settled in and aren’t expecting a counter-attack.” Kaarl sighed and lifted his head toward the waning daylight. He let his chin fall back down in a nod. “Where are the rest of your men and women?”
“Some are in the woods. Others in the thickets just outside. Where are the rest of yours?” Kaarl said nothing, letting a glare answer for him. The Trine shook his head slowly. “Do you still feel it is better to not unite our forces? How many more do you have to lose?”
Again, he let the question hang and climbed into Ashtar’s saddle, gritting his teeth against the cold stiffness in his body.
“We will ride with you to Deren,” the Trine said as he retrieved his helmet from the frozen ground. “There is much I would discuss with you and your prime.” He swung his long leg over the back of his mount. ... I heard her call as well ...
Kaarl cursed, the steam of his breath adding substance to the invective. The man would only follow up with inevitable questions. And that horrible little thought that her call had gone far beyond the immediate area pierced his brain like the tip of a stiletto. He snapped that sharp thought off before it could grow further.
Tetric trotted his horse next to Kaarl’s and gripped his arm, initiating a private connection to his mind. ... We were all under U’Nehíl ...
He jerked his arm away. ... Such communication is not possible ... He clicked his tongue, guiding his horse forward through the trees.
... It is possible ... For one who is more than a seer ...
He looked over his shoulder. “I know what you are insinuating.”
Tetric had not moved. “I am the only one in Kinderra who can be certain of it. You must let me test her.”
Kaarl reined his mount around to face the other man. “My daughter is a seer, Lord Trine. You know we misinterpreted her Seeing Aspect to be the Defending Aspect when she was a young child. It is not unheard of, especially for a child born so early before her time. And she certainly does not heal. Ai, she is uncommonly skilled, but she is nothing more than a seer.”
... Kaarl— ...
He drilled his silver gaze into Tetric. ... If the Dark Trine believed for one moment she was anything else, he would send every last one of his Ken’nar to kill her ... Her life would be in as much danger as your own ... I will never let that happen ... Never ...
He kicked h
is horse’s sides, leaving the Trine’s reply and the dead to the sleet.
CHAPTER 3
“What is power? Is it might of the sword? Wealth? Followers? Strength of the Aspects? No, it is the ability to decide when to use none of these.”
—The Codex of Jasal the Great
The Ain Magne led his horse away from the others as they made camp for the night. Irritation needled him like the dampness that leached through his cloak and under his armor. He must keep moving forward with his plans. Especially now, after the girl’s call. Which made this delay unnecessary.
He took a breath to calm himself. A pause in their ride might have been unnecessary for him but not for the others. Those with whom he traveled needed their rest more than he, as did his horse.
“My lord,” one of the defenders said as he jogged closer, “do you wish a guard to accompany you while you rest?”
He removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. “That won’t be necessary. I’m easing my horse from the ride. I’ll be back soon.” The young man nodded and returned to the camp.
He hung the helmet from straps on his horse’s saddlebag while the animal pawed at the crusty snow in search of grass. He pulled his cloak tighter against the incessant rain. The stallion did not prefer the company of others. He understood. He, too, often needed solitude.
My Lord. Ain Magne. The Great One.
He pressed his lips tight against his teeth in frustration. The men and women he led conferred these monikers upon him. The Fal’kin and the Unaspected whispered another name—the Dark Trine. Ai, he was a Trine, but he was not dark. Those who refused to augment their innate Light from Within with life forces pulled in by the Power from Without, those who preferred war to peace—they were the dark ones. Not he.
Titles were desired by those who needed to know where they stood in the hierarchy of order. He, however, stood at the head of the Ken’nar, and soon at the head of the Fal’kin as well. All of Kinderra. No one sat above him, except for the Aspects Above. He was not a deity, of course. He was not one of their godhead trinity. He was a man, yet he was no more like the men and women who surrounded him now than his stallion resembled a draft horse. They did not know him. In truth, no one did. One day, however, they would know and understand and accept.
The Ain Magne removed his horse’s saddle. He wiped some of the water from the stallion’s neck as a vague sense of discomfort from the animal returned to his mind mediated by his Healing Aspect. The beast was not a companion and certainly not a pet, but a tool, even a weapon, one of the most valuable he had. Because of that, he lavished attention on his mount. He removed a water skin from a saddlebag and took a drink. He would eat later after he had attended to his horse.
Securing Falantir, the capital of Kana-Akün province, had been a costly affair. Costly in terms of lives. Costly in terms of something almost more precious: time. He pursed his lips tighter and, again, an ember of frustration burned in him. He had no one to blame but himself. The Kana-Aküni forces had put up more resistance than anticipated. In his hubris, he had not followed his Sight far enough, a mistake he thought he was long past making. Like hubris. He was not above learning from his mistakes, however. It would not happen again.
The Ain Magne led his horse away farther still, shouldering the heavy saddle. He glanced back at the camp. There would be no fires tonight with the sleet. No fires also meant he could melt into the gloomy darkness, wrapped in dark leather and armor and U’Nehíl.
He set the saddle down on the ground and reached out to search the Aspects for the mind of his seer second. The young man was leagues away in Falantir with the remainder of his forces. Although he knew the seer’s mind as well as his own, the distance still made such contact difficult. Difficult, ai, but hardly impossible.
Like his horse, his servant was another exceedingly important tool. The young seer’s sensitivity toward divining visions, and his interpretations of them, were extraordinarily accurate. His servant was also another source of his frustration. A most infuriating one at that.
... Eö hac, my lord ... I am here ... his lieutenant’s mind-voice returned.
... Your grynwen attack—one I did not order—was not successful ... the Ain Magne called.
... Pinal and his lackeys reached the bulwarks of Falantir and our garrison here ... I saw an opportunity ... I was merely acting on your desires ...
The Ain Magne ground his teeth. ... You have no idea what my desires are ...
... Forgive me, Lord Trine ... I exist but for your will ... I had no right— ...
He sent a searing reprimand into his second’s mind, his Healing Aspect feeding on his lieutenant’s very life force, pulling at it, drawing it from the seer to inflame the young man’s nerves. ... How dare you even presume to make such a move without my orders? ... Did it not occur to you that I might have wanted the il’Kin to glimpse our presence there? ... Knowing something of my might would more likely draw the Fal’kin out in our next engagement ...
... Forgive me! ... Please! ... I beg of you! ...
Ai, sometimes his seer second and others under his command needed to be taught a harsh lesson, but inflicting pain for its own sake repulsed him. He seldom abused the Healing Aspect in such a fashion.
The Ain Magne loosened his hold on his second and blew out his breath. He had spent more than fifty summers learning forbearance. His second, having seen but twenty-two summers, still had lessons to learn.
His stallion nickered at his loud exhale. He drew his hand down his horse’s fetlock, as much to calm himself as his mount. He lifted the hoof to examine it.
His seer’s mind, soft with repentance, nudged his own. ... Shall I eliminate the il’Kin who survived? ... Say the word, and even their amulets will not be found ...
... No ... I will deal with Kaarl Pinal and the il’Kin soon enough ...
Kaarl Pinal. He threw down his horse’s hoof. The name filled him with as much vexation as respect. When his mount tossed its head in annoyance, he stroked the animal’s flank.
For summers, the Ain Magne had fought against Pinal and studied him on the battlefield. Not just his skills and tactics but him. He knew the man’s many strengths as well as his weaknesses. The defender showed far fewer of those, but they were much more important. Like the use of a man’s own life to fuel the Power from Without, a man’s weaknesses were weapons to be used against him. He now knew which particular weakness would be the man’s undoing.
... We have lost too much time in capturing Falantir ... he called to his servant.
... Allowing the il’Kin to remain is not a wise move, my Trine ...
The Ain Magne smiled without humor at his second’s impudence. Perhaps his servant’s usefulness was growing less useful. He cocked his head to one side, stretching the muscles in his neck to relieve the returning tension. For now, he required the young seer’s Aspect as well as his brutally efficient talents with a blade.
He trailed a gloved palm along his horse’s flank as he walked to its hindquarters. ... Let me ask you this: how do the provinces view Pinal and his il’Kin defenders? ... He sensed his servant’s wary confusion.
... They are considered heroes ...
The Ain Magne bent down and raised the hind hoof of his horse. He frowned. A small, sharp stone had embedded itself against the sole in frozen mud. ... And if they were all killed? ... When his seer second made no answer, the Trine continued. ... Martyrs ... The brave il’Kin and their noble Defender Commander Kaarl Pinal cut down in the defense of Kinderra—they would be hailed as martyrs ... But alive, with just a handful limping home, they are failures ... Whom do you think the provinces would be more likely to place their faith in, a martyr or a failure? ... He paused again, allowing his words to take effect. ... Oë comprende? ... Do you understand now? ...
... Ai, my lord ... Ëo comprende ...
... I hope you do ... You are not above being made an example of what happens to those who counter me ... Which you have done ... Twice ... That is twice
more than any other living man or woman ...
... I am your servant, my Trine ... You have more than my fealty ... You have my life ... his lieutenant returned, his mind’s voice full of contrition.
The Ain Magne ignored his humility. Let the boy worry for a while. He preferred the loyalty of the Ken’narren to come from respect, but fear was sometimes a very appropriate—and effective—motivator.
He unsheathed a small knife from his belt and began to pick away at the mud under his horse’s hoof. ... What of Kana-Akün’s healer prime? ...
... She cannot keep up the pace of harvesting you have demanded ... Her body fails, and we must wait until she revives ...
... She will soon have assistance ...
The Ain Magne heard raised voices coming from the camp and turned to face the noise. The shouts degraded into raucous laughter. A call from one of the defenders came to his mind inviting him back to the camp. He gently repelled the contact, hoping the defender would honor his need for privacy.
... Stay present a moment ... he called to his servant. ... I may have more need of you ...
He continued to pick away at the packed dirt under his horse’s hoof, but the stone refused to dislodge. He would have to use much stronger means to remove this frustration. As he would with building his forces.
Some Aspected, like his seer second, freely chose the Ken’nar way and fully embraced the Power from Without, but there were never enough of these for his needs. He added to his armies through a skill most in Kinderra believed a terrifying rumor: the Soul Harvest.
Oh, it was no rumor. It was very real.
The Soul Harvest was a dramatic description, perhaps, but an apt one, for those harvested were left bereft of anything that once made them individuals. It could be accomplished only through the Healing Aspect. With that most precious of Aspects, he winnowed away self-awareness like needless chaff.
The ancient sages were right to forbid the Soul Harvest’s use and Kinderrans were right to fear it. In a way, he agreed with both conclusions. The arcane skill was a despicable act, but it was necessary for peace. He would do anything necessary to accomplish that goal. Even kill. Even perform the Soul Harvest.
Trine Rising Page 3
