Aegis of The Gods: Book 02 - Ashes and Blood (12 page)

C
hapter 17

D
espite 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.

The situation with Ancel served to make things worse. She’d hoped the boy had grown past his anger and had at least a little love for Irmina. His open dislike didn’t go over well. Irmina had returned as an Ashishin and an assassin, but her love for Ancel was still evident. The pain in her face when he said he hated her had almost been too much for Galiana to watch in silence. How his loathing would affect Irmina’s actions remained to be seen.

With some luck, Ryne could continue to keep him in check. The Eztezian himself presented his own set of problems. What she saw from Irmina toward him amounted to nothing less than hate. The kind of hate that drove people to kill. But that didn’t make sense unless there was something they were both hiding. Which brought her to her other concerns about the man. Who or what could have such power to control an Eztezian? The only answers were the gods themselves or a netherling. She quickly ruled out the deities. As much as she believed in them, she had yet to see proof that they could touch the world. A netherling, on the other hand … Lips pursed, she listened to the council discussing their options.

“I don’t see the point in waiting any longer,” Edwin Valdeen said.

Galiana’s expression soured simply from his voice, much less from looking at the beady-eyed man, his head so well-oiled it shone. Thank the gods Stefan had relieved him of his duties as Headspeaker. He should count his blessing he hadn’t lost his head when Stefan found how close to death Ancel, Mirza, and Danvir had come. Only Edwin’s past service to the council and the Setian as a whole had saved him.

“Yes, yes, we know.” Guthrie Bemelle pushed back his chair a bit to make room for his belly. “Your daughter is safe in Torandil so we should abandon everyone as you did the boys.”

“That was a mistake,” Edwin protested. “And last I checked your son is in Torandil also.”

“A mistake we should have fixed,” Devan Faber said, voice even. “With your head on a pike.”

“I’m so tired of this. How many times must I say I’m sorry about your sons? You want my head so bad, take it then!”

“With pleasure.” Devan reached for his sword.

Stefan’s hand slapped against the tabletop. “Stop it.” His voice cracked with a force to match the blow. “We voted and that’s final. You two need to get over it. If I can, so can you.”

“We’re not you though, Stefan.” Devan’s eyes flashed with anger. “I’ll never forgive him for almost making me lose my boy.”

“I doubt any of us will, but we all make mistakes.” Stefan’s hands spread on the table. “I’ve made my share and cost many their lives—”

“Come on,” Guthrie shook his head, “you can’t compare what you did leading men into battle to what he’s done.”

“Soldiers or common folk; life is still life. Our boys are alive, Dev, Guth. Let their survival mean something. We have enough issues without fighting amongst ourselves.”

The two grumbled their protests but nodded.

“Good.” Stefan sighed. “Now, Javed, were you able to muster enough mounts from the outlying villages and farms?”

Thin lips moving as he silently counted, marking off numbers by touching each finger with his thumb, Javed’s features wrinkled even more than usual. One milky eye narrowed. The man smelled like his stables. “Not quite. Too many old folk stayed back. We could manage if the weather was warmer and the dartans were out of hibernation.”

“If wishes had wings,” Stefan said. “Galiana, any progress convincing more folk to go to Torandil or at least head across to the Red Ridge and trek down to one of other towns?”

“Not much. Ever since the shadeling raids ceased, they began to feel safe again.”

“Even with the reports of increased wolf and mountain cat attacks?” Stefan raised a questioning brow.

Galiana nodded. “They brought those up as a reason they needed to stay and protect their property. When the Dagodin show up, they ask to be left alone. Some say they were born here and they will die here before giving up their land.”

Stefan sighed. “People tend to be the same no matter where they’re from … willing to die for what they believe is theirs. We mustn’t give up though.”

“So you intend to hold on here until spring?” Edwin asked.

“If we need to.”

Edwin scowled. “But what if … no, not what if … the Tribunal is sure to retaliate as they did in Randane. Look at us, we’ve donned Setian colors. The Quaking Forest and Dosteri flags fly here instead of the Tribunal’s Lightstorm. They’re going to come for us. And if not them, one of the other Granadian kingdoms for sure.”

“Not to mention the shadelings,” said Rohan Lankon, hair whiter than wispy clouds. “Anyone who thinks they’re all gone is a fool. There were simply too many. One thing the Shadowbearer War and the War of Remnants taught us is that they’re here, somewhere.”

“I agree with him,” Devan said. “I wouldn’t want to expose our people to any more harm than necessary.” His lips curled as he glanced in Edwin’s direction. “No matter what anyone else says.”

Galiana gave a slight dip of her head in Irmina’s direction.

Irmina stood. The other council members made to stand also.

“Stay seated, please,” Irmina said.

They did as she asked, but not without nervous glances. Eldanhill had more than their fair share of men and women who’d gone off to become Ashishin, but not under the present circumstances with them rebelling against the Tribunal. They’d all appeared elated at Irmina’s return until Galiana mentioned her title.

“Back at the Whitewater Inn, many of you were worried about the Tribunal’s response to what you’ve done here,” Irmina said. “I don’t know their exact plans. Will they act? There’s no doubt about that. Before I left, they were massing supplies and soldiers. Whether they were meant for here, Sendeth, Barson or Ostania, I can’t say.”

“Why would they bother with Ostania now?” Devan asked.

“Not all the shadelings have been culled. Also, a portion of Amuni’s Children are laying siege to a few towns. There’s also the matter of them losing their toehold in Astoca.”

“From the reports I received, the Ostanian kingdoms can now take care of their own,” Stefan said.

“The Tribunal still has other desires besides simply helping to clean up the aftermath of the shade’s invasion.” Irmina’s voice was cool, but her jaw worked.

A knowing smile graced Stefan’s lips. “Ah, an excuse for them to get one kingdom or another in their debt.”

“Meanwhile, we’re suffering here,” Edwin said.

“Yes, but it’s not like they aren’t dealing with their enemies here also,” Guthrie chimed in. “The Sendethi losses show as much.”

“Although I would hate to go against your decision as commander, Stefan,” Irmina said. The room quieted. “I think it’s in your best interest to leave for Torandil as soon as possible.”

“Duly noted,” Stefan replied. “But I abandoned my people once. I won’t leave a single one behind this time.”

Irmina inclined her head. “Very well. There’s also another reason the Tribunal is gathering their armies.”

This part worried Galiana. She wasn’t sure how Stefan would take it.
Would he be willing to leave immediately?
She hoped he would, but suggesting as much may push him in the other direction. For years, he wanted them to prepare for this day by funneling their people back into Ostania. And for years, she refused, stating that the Tribunal suspected. Advising him to leave some behind now wouldn’t go over well, at least not from her.

“As you know by now,” Irmina said, “I met Ryne Waldron before. In Ostania. Together we encountered other Setian.”

Galiana took in the council member’s reactions. Except for Stefan, they all appeared surprised.

“As I thought.” Irmina was staring at Stefan. “You know.”

“Yes.”

Intrigued, Galiana did her best not to sit up. She had to appear to know everything. All eyes shifted to Stefan now.

“Not every Dagodin or Ashishin from the Mysteras who were stationed in Ostania have died or remained with the Tribunal’s legions.” Stefan met each gaze. “I had someone close to me before the Shadowbearer War take in those I trusted. He’s held a foothold in our lands in preparation for the days to come. They’ve been between this side of the Vallum and Seti ever since.” He regarded Irmina with a raised brow. “How did you guess?”

“Daggerpaws,” Irmina said. “You often advised us to get more of them, but they proved too dangerous to keep around Eldanhill.”

Galiana frowned, remembering those past requests by Stefan. Charra came to mind once again. She would have to find a way to convince Ancel to reveal the beast’s secret. Right now, something else struck her. “The Siefer and Nema belonged to you all along. You taught them about daggerpaws. You used the animals to gain the clans’ trust.”

“Along with enough kinai to keep them warm through the long winters.” Stefan smiled.

“That’s why they never troubled you,” Guthrie added. “Why you would often visit the mountains …”

Stefan shrugged.

“What else have you been hiding?” Edwin wore his usual scowl.

Stefan’s eyes became steely pinpoints. “I’m surprised you’re questioning me considering I’ve never led us astray. Trust me; anything I hold from you is for your own good. Why did you mention the Setian?” Stefan asked in Irmina’s direction.

“When last did you hear from them?”

“A few weeks before the Sendethi siege.”

“Then, there’s something you don’t know that you should. They were struggling with attacks of their own,” Irmina said. “Shadeling attacks. Ryne fought the man responsible and failed to defeat him.” She grimaced. “They never had a chance to warn you of the Wraithwoods growing on this side of the Vallum. The Tribunal found out also. One of the places mentioned was here, in Eldanhill. I advise you to gather who you can and leave.”

The members burst out into panicked chatter.

Galiana couldn’t help her smile.
Smooth.
The way Irmina had drawn out everything wouldn’t point to them having planned the conversation. The rest was up to Stefan now. With this news, what choice was there but to call for an immediate exodus to Torandil?

“Your argument makes sense.” Stefan’s voice was calm, too much so. “However, I promised myself long ago I’d never leave my people in the hands of the shade again. I won’t break my vow now.”

Despite her hopes, Galiana suspected Stefan might still react this way. She resigned herself to their second option, one she wished to avoid despite the threat Jillian said might lurk within the forest. “There is only one way to know whoever stays might be safe. We must scour the Greenleaf, starting at Ancel’s glen.”

“Makes sense,” Stefan said. “I have someone in mind to lead a cohort. Give me a couple weeks to make the necessary arrangements.”

Galiana stood. “Good. Now, if you all will excuse me, I have other business to attend to at the Mystera.” There had to be a book within the libraries with information on Ryne.

C
hapter 18

W
eeks later, after a particularly grueling day spent training with Ryne, Ancel relaxed at a table in the Whitewater Inn’s common room. Or at least he attempted to. Clean-shaven, wearing a dark gray coat, he nursed a drink. Since Irmina’s appearance, the only times he managed to shake her from his thoughts were when he practiced. He delved into his sword work daily, often from dawn until late evening. When it wasn’t the sword, then he read up on Ostania’s history, or memorized more from
the Disciplines
. Ryne still hadn’t allowed him to do any Forging beyond touching his Matersense, identifying each essence around him, and discerning ways in which they interacted with his Etchings. Whenever he asked to do more, Ryne told him that he wanted to ensure his connection to Mater became as smooth as the natural flow of his sword Stances.

Accompanied by Mirza, he made this trip to the inn nightly, often bringing Kachien with him, while Charra either waited outside or found some sport in the Greenleaf. Tonight, Kachien was on the small stage singing an Ostanian song while a musician strummed a takuatin, his fingers gliding across the instrument’s thirty-two strings in an upbeat rhythm. Locals crowded the tables, along with merchants, refugees, as well as a few students in uniform. Spilled beer, wine, food, and sweaty human bodies made for a mesh of odors that some may have found upsetting. For him, it added some sense of normalcy, as did the raucous laughter and chatter within the room. They were a welcome respite to the atmosphere of worry and uncertainty of late.

Although Irmina lived at the inn, it happened to be the one place where he didn’t run into her. When he stayed home, sometimes she’d show up with Galiana to have a meeting with his father. If he trained later than usual at the Mystera, eventually she would come watch him as she often did in the days before she abandoned him. After trying different ways, he discovered the best method to avoid her was to venture to the inn.

Except for tonight. For whatever reason, she chose this night to sit at a table in a secluded area, having a meal. What grated at him was that she acted as if he didn’t exist, not once glancing in his direction. Almost every patron who entered the serving hall acknowledged her with a bow. Out of respect, he’d been forced to do the same. Her presence made him want to get drunk.

“She’s here on purpose,” he grumbled. “Trying to get under my skin.”

“I’d say she’s doing quite the job of it too.” Mirza smiled, his sharp blue shirt and matching jacket enough to put a noble to shame. He downed his drink.

Ancel glared at his friend. “Why’d she have to eat here anyway?”

“Um, she lives here?”

“You know what I mean.”

“To get under your skin?” Mirza shrugged, his eyes now twinkling with mirth.

Ancel growled under his breath.

“You know, for a man who claimed he’s over her, and for one who has that,” Mirza nodded toward Kachien on the stage, “you do seem a bit … bothered. If I were you’ I’d go over and say hello.”

“This coming from my best friend who pushed me toward forgetting about the woman.” Ancel shook his head.

“You remember when I made fun of you about not being able to bed an Ashishin that day we went to the glen?”

Ancel frowned for a moment before nodding.

“Well, you could prove me wrong.”

“Do you think …?” Ancel’s voice trailed off as he took in Mirza’s smug expression.

“And there it is.” Mirza’s teeth showed in a wide grin. “I knew it. Especially after you shaved. For all your supposed anger and annoyance, you
do
want her back.”

Ancel opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but words failed him.

“Exactly.” Clasping his hands behind his head, Mirza leaned back in his chair.

Although his skin crawled to admit it, he knew Mirza words rang with truth. His friend had a knack for that. The more he saw Irmina, the more he thought of her, the more he wondered what things could have been like between them, or if there could still be a relationship despite their differences. How else to explain why he’d shaved? Her leaving still stung, and her return had opened old wounds, but to be honest, he felt better knowing she was in Eldanhill.

When he searched his feelings, the knowledge that he got to see her face, her dark hair, and those golden-brown eyes of hers made him want to smile. Unbeknownst to anyone, he found time at night to watch her head to the inn from one of her many meetings. Sometimes, he stayed outside peering up at the windows until she put out the lamps and went to bed. Of late, dreams of her were a welcome change to the nightmares about his mother and the black-armored man.

He glanced toward her table again, hoping to catch her eye, and frowned. Mouth open, a slice of bread held at chin level, Irmina was staring in the direction of the stage. At that moment, Ancel noticed the music’s change to a slower pace, bubbling like a spring formed from newly thawed ice. He followed Irmina’s gaze.

Kachien was swaying like a drunkard, her voice growing softer until it faded into nothingness.

No
, Ancel thought as he realized what she was doing.
Please, no.

But not only didn’t she stop, her movements increased into a full-fledged Temtesa.

As the patrons noticed, conversations dwindled. The room fell into silence broken only by the takuatin’s notes, and the flutter of Kachien’s trousers and shirt with each twirl, stretch of her leg, and flick of her honey-colored hair. Her hips snapped back and forth, and despite her trousers, they radiated seduction. As she always did when she danced the Temtesa, she had eyes only for him. His face grew heated. Riveted where he sat, he drank in every movement.

And then a strange phenomenon occurred. On stage, Kachien blurred and became Irmina as she used to dance for him in the same fashion. Those times flashed through his head, bringing on a longing he hadn’t experienced in almost two years. He shut his eyes in an attempt to drive away the images. The music picked up in speed, and with it so did the swirl of those old images. Faster and faster they came. He and Irmina together as they once were.

He barely heard the whoops and applause from the crowd or noticed when the music ended. Staggering to his feet, he fled.