Aegis of The Gods: Book 02 - Ashes and Blood (2 page)

Twenty feet.

Without thought, he aimed and loosed.

A yowl echoed.

One wolf staggered. The others came on faster, galloping.

Arrow. Nock. Loose.

Another painful cry.

This time a wolf fell.

Arrow. Nock.

They pounced.

Ancel leaped to the side, hitting the ground and brush in a roll, ignoring the pain of the quiver digging into his back as he crushed icy leaves beneath him. He dropped his bow in the process, and when he came to his feet, he already had his sword brandished.

The wolves skidded to a halt. One of the animals he’d shot was limping, a whine escaping its mouth with every breath, an arrow in its side. The other lay motionless.

Snapping and snarling at each other, the wolves spread apart. They surrounded him, mouths to the ground, jaws leaking slobber.

Ancel spun in a futile attempt to keep his eyes on each one. Every time he turned away from a wolf, he needed to spin to cover his rear as he heard another beast charge. But each movement was a feint. They were measuring him for an opening, their reactions more human than animal.

Where in Hydae is Charra?

The answer to his silent question appeared in a blur of gray-white from the forest’s edge. Before the closest wolf turned, the daggerpaw’s jaws closed on its neck. A yowl choked off as bone snapped. Charra threw the carcass aside.

Red oozed down Charra’s fur and covered the knife sharp protrusions of his bone hackles. Too much blood for the one bite he’d inflicted. Neither had he speared the wolf before he attacked.

What—?

Growling, four more wolves tore from among the trees.

Ancel almost smiled. The wolves had set a trap for him all along.
More human than wolf indeed.

Charra spun to the new the threat. Ancel took several steps back while he faced the other wolves on his side. With Charra providing protection to the rear, he stood a chance.

Breaths laboring heavily, the wounded wolf eased to the ground. One of the others whined. A bark answered from those Charra occupied. The wolf in front of Ancel loped over to its counterpart, sniffed, gave one plaintive moan then a growl like distant thunder.

Ancel’s heart thumped at the sound.

With a sudden lurch, the wolf spun to face him and bounded forward. At the same time, snarls issued from behind him, followed by Charra’s barking roar. Out of the corner of his eye, Ancel saw the other wolf on his flank lunge.

He met the first animal head on as it soared through the air. Sidestepping at the last moment, he sliced.

Silversteel met fur. Flesh parted. Blood spurted.

A whimper ensued as the beast dropped to the ground. Ancel was already turning to face the flanking one, throwing his cloak up for protection.

As the second wolf crashed into him, he tried to drop to one side and roll. Pain lanced up his arm. The wolf had its jaws locked on, and even through the fur-lined cloak, his pelts, and leather armor beneath, the crushing power of those canines bore down on him.

He hit the ground hard, the wolf atop him worrying at his arm. A snarl made Ancel glance up. Its fur matted with blood, the wounded wolf had risen to its feet and limped over, jaws spread in a rictus. Golden brown eyes stared into Ancel’s own.

Ancel tried to bring his sword up, but it was trapped beneath him. An eternity passed between one heartbeat and the next. The wolf’s shoulder muscles bunched. A torrent of panic cut through him like an icy gust in a storm.

With desperation came the voices of his new power—the voices from his nightmares. The heartbeats stretched. The world stilled.

“What is ours is yours.”
It was the whisper of death yet somehow tantalizing.

The wolf kicked its legs as it sprang.

“Use us as you will.”
The goading speech of a fierce gale rushing by a mountain.

Canine jaws spread, fangs sharp and white.

“You must not die here.”
This voice was the gurgle of a brook before it became a river.

Other voices rose, beseeching, commanding, filling him with promises. They crowded his head, tried to consume his being. Some competed with each other.

Behind them all, he sensed a greater power still. It felt as if it spanned deeper and wider than the world.

Ancel’s mouth dried. Fear so strong he tasted it made him cry out.

The wolf was completing its leap, eyes so close he picked out the pupils’ patterns, open jaws so near, he felt the heat of its breath. Slobber struck his face.

Yelling at the top of his lungs, Ancel suffused himself within the Eye. The speakers cut off with a howl. In the same instant, he reached out for his power.

The wolf jerked, whined once, and then pitched over. An arrow jutted from its neck.

A second later, the one tearing at his arm gave a matching cry and fell dead. Blood spurted from a similar wound.

Stopped midway before he embraced his power, Ancel kicked the beast off him and rolled over. Less than fifteen feet away, his father controlled his horse between his legs. The hood of his fur jacket thrown back, Stefan held his oversized, black longbow in one hand. Stefan nocked another arrow and aimed toward Charra. Ancel’s gaze followed his father’s aim.

Four dead wolves lay in the snow, but five more had joined the fray. Blood covered Charra’s bone hackles in dripping rivulets.

The bowstring twanged; another wolf fell. The others turned tail and darted toward the woods.

Heart still racing, his breathing labored, Ancel scrambled to his feet, his sword held out before him.

“In Ilumni’s name, didn’t I warn you about coming in here alone?” Stefan bellowed, bow trained on the fleeing animals.

Ancel lowered his weapon as he turned to meet his father’s furious glare. “Yes, Da.” He tried to make his voice as meek as possible.

“So why are you here? You could have died today, boy.”

That last irked Ancel. “I’m not a boy any—”

“When you act like this … you are. Have you learned nothing?”

“Da, it’s just—”

“There’s no excuse for foolishness, for unnecessary risks, or for taking out your anger on the wildlife. Hunting for fur or food is one thing, but wanton killing is another.”

Ancel hunched his shoulders and averted his eyes from his father’s stony gaze. “I-I’m sorry.” He sheathed his sword.

“Son, you could have gotten yourself killed.” Stefan’s voice became tender. “You’re more important than ever.”

“I know, but I’m so tired of waiting.”

“Patience and perseverance go hand in hand for any task to be completed,” his father said, quoting
the Disciplines.
“Restraint. Try to remember that when you feel the way you do.”

“Yes, Da.”

At that precise moment, Charra gave a warning growl, a throaty rumble deep and long. The daggerpaw stared off into the trees.

Ancel began to turn when a presence in his mind drowned his every thought. The lump of his third bond had grown incrementally ever since he received his first Etching, but now it felt as if it would explode. He squeezed his eyes closed and brought a hand up to his temple. The throbbing pulled him toward the direction in which Charra faced.

“Dear gods, what is that?” Stefan murmured, voice shaky.

Ancel opened his eyes. His father had his bow drawn, the feathery fletching of the arrow to his ear. He was aiming toward the tree line.

There, among the shadows, lurked a man-shaped, hulking form, at least seven or eight feet in height.

C
hapter 2

G
aliana Calestis contemplated High Shin Jeremiah’s words. Seated at a window in the Mystera, she looked out onto the forests and plains steeped in white north of Eldanhill. Where clouds once scuttled across the sky, they now hung in sooty clumps. She squinted, imagining she could see the peaks shrouded to the northeast and beyond them to the Everlast Mountains and the towers erected there.
The Sanctums of Shelter. Could those spires live up to their promise of sheltering the world? What if they aren’t as powerful as we hope? Then, all your plots, sacrifices, and actions over the centuries will have been for nothing.

Heat and a crackle rose from a nearby fireplace. Scented candles in glass holders around the well-furnished room carried sweet hints of jasmine. The hearth’s warmth did little for the chill in her body. Like the seasons themselves, the world was in flux. Nothing in her ancient bones said the change was for the better.

The recent odd behavior from the Greenleaf’s animals said as much; it wasn’t a coincidence. She did not believe in coincidences. The animals’ propensity for violence and Jillian’s impending trip to Torandil were why she’d summoned the woman here as part of the meeting with Jerem.

Dressed in a scout’s light leathers, Jillian sat with her back to the table facing the window through which Jerem stared. Jillian hadn’t said a word as he’d relayed the news.

“Are you positive?” Although she knew what to expect, Galiana wished to hear another answer. One with promise. Misguided or not, hope was a virtue worth clinging to in times such as these and more so in those to come.

“Taeria does not lie. You must feel the shift in the world, how events have caught up to us too quickly.” Jerem’s gaze remained focused beyond the foggy glass.

The wispy web of his hair, the lines around his eyes, and the way his silver robes hung loose spoke of the same weakened state she experienced. Time eventually took its toll, even on them. She remembered when he was a younger man, spry, ready to leave his mark on the world, hair shiny obsidian. She wasn’t sure if this was what he had intended. It certainly was not what she envisioned.

“How long do you think we have?” Galiana kept her voice low as if whispering would give the words a different meaning. Sometimes she wished making a change for the better could be as simple as uttering words.

He shrugged, his shoulders making little to no impression in the robes. “Not long, I suppose. A Bloodline Affinity may be one of, if not
the
most difficult of Forges, but whether we believe someone mastered it or not, that man knew to take Thania. To me,” he touched his chest near his heart, “that is proof enough. It is only a matter of time before they come for Ancel. Besides, we could not hide him for much longer. Not after the way he announced himself to the world. If not for the protection offered by the Vallum and the Sanctums of Shelter, I am sure his actions would have drawn much more unwanted attention.”

Bloodline Affinity.
Galiana mulled the words over, a chill running through her body. In her lifetime, she could think of no one who perfected the ability. It was similar in ways to the Forge the Pathfinders employed to trace the ancestral history of a Matus they hunted. By using blood from that family line, they had a chance to identify the other members. However, a strong enough Matti could negate the Pathfinders’ skill or make subtle, misleading changes. On the other hand, a perfected Affinity allowed the Forger to delve into a person’s mind, trace their roots, and supposedly, their possible future siblings. The power of the one under such a Forging was of no consequence. According to research, the Bloodline Affinity was infallible.

“Do you believe he is an Eztezian?” Galiana asked.

“I doubt it matters what we believe.”

“But do you?”

He faced her, the silver pools that were his eyes steady and unrelenting. “Yes.”

The knot in her stomach clenched tighter. “And the one … this Ryne that you mentioned, him also?”

“Yes.”

The tension eased somewhat, enough to allow her a steadying breath. “Ancel might stand a chance with this master to help him.”

Jerem gave her a skeptical look. “Against what took Thania? I doubt they will be enough.”

She cringed at his words. No Skadwaz, no matter how strong in Mater, could have beaten Thania. At least, she didn’t believe it possible. After all, like her, the Skadwaz were only another form of Matus, not an archdaemon, a netherling, or a god. Employed and enhanced by the shade, yes, but still, in all her time she had yet to encounter a Skadwaz stronger than an Exalted. This man had treated her and Thania’s combined power as no more than a trifle.

“Added to what manner of creature he is, there are the forces the Cardian Queen have mustered.” Jerem looked to the north again. “And what Taeria says awaits in Everland as well as the Skadwaz marshaling their armies from the Great Divide. Add all of that to the Matii the Iluminus possesses, and we will need more than one or two Eztezians or even their entire contingent. We need a unified people. Even then, there is the other problem. How in all that is holy did the shadelings breach the Vallum of Light? Its wards worked fine against anything else trying to cross after Ancel released the power. So why did it fail in keeping them out? How is it that not one single Herald at the Bastions received any sign that the shade bypassed the wards?”

Galiana recalled the nightmares she had trying to find answers to the same questions. With all their resources, the Bastions to provide warning, the message maps and their near infinite range for communication, their own ability to Forge wards, the Heralds had not seen, heard, or sensed a single shadeling. Not one. The Heralds’ failure had left cities ravaged by the creatures, the majority of the attacks at other Mysteras.

“I wouldn’t place all the blame on the Heralds.” Jillian clasped her hands in her lap. Her helm with its eagle’s beak rested on the table next to her. The woman’s eyes reminded Galiana of the birds. Dark and predatory.

“Not that I disagree,” Galiana said, “but what makes you say that?”

“Something is amiss, maybe bigger than anyone suspects. Not seeing this threat doesn’t sound much different from what my eagles experienced in the Greenleaf. They confirmed the animals are acting out of sorts, but I cannot find a reason. Any creature’s mind I try to touch rejects me, especially the wolves.” Jillian appeared lost in thought for a moment. “Their habits have been erratic, much as if they’re afraid of something.”

“And you believe shadelings are the cause?” Jerem asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know. This is the first time my pets failed me. My suggestion is to bar anyone from entering the forest.”

Galiana nodded her agreement. “With that being said, Jillian, I need you to escort the next convoy to Torandil.”

Eyes growing steely as they often did when she was being stubborn, Jillian made a steeple of her fingers. “I’m much more use here with my eagles keeping an eye on the forest.”

“No need. There’s but a few months left before we abandon Eldanhill. I want you to ensure this next group reaches Torandil safely. We cannot have them falling into Giomar’s hands, or whomever it is that now holds Randane. Neither can we have them taken by the Tribunal’s armies. Also, both Jerem and I feel we need an older council member to take charge of our preparations in Torandil.”

Jillian opened her mouth to speak, but Galiana cut her off. “There is no room for discussion in this.”

For a brief moment, Jillian’s eyes flashed, and then her jaw relaxed. “As you wish. If there’s nothing else, I will join them now.”

Galiana knew the reason for Jillian’s wish to stay on. According to Jerem, the Tribunal had discussed the possibility of sending Irmina to Eldanhill. Denying Jillian a chance to see her niece wasn’t her primary purpose, but Irmina would have enough hostility toward the Dorns without adding her aunt’s volatility.

After taking a deep breath, Jillian clasped the chair’s arms and pushed to her feet. She tucked her helm under her arm, bowed to Galiana first, then to Jerem, turned on her heels, and strode from the room.

“I still have my concerns about her.” Jerem stroked the long threads of his beard while watching the door.

“She simply wants to protect what is left of her family.”

“As do we all,” answered the old man. “As do we all.”

“Anyway,” Galiana said, “how has the Tribunal taken the Heralds’ failure?”

“Not well. The Assembly squabbled over their punishment. Some even suggested recalling them and stripping them of their ranks. Whispers around the Iluminus were that the Heralds suffered from the shade’s corruption.”

Galiana felt her eyebrows climb her forehead. “Not a good rumor to start.”

“You can imagine how that went. The Tribunal tested the Bastions themselves since then, using captured shadelings. They sensed the creatures and any strong Forging just fine. In the end, they decided to send inquisitors to interview each Herald. They also stationed several cohorts at each Bastion in fear they could be taken.”

“No wonder they’ve thrown such numbers at Randane. What of Calisto?” Galiana asked, frowning. She doubted they would react the same to Jerem’s city.

“Treated the same. The nerve of them,” he grumbled. “I wasn’t even worthy of them asking permission. They informed me an inquisitor would be on the way on the same day he arrived.”

Galiana could see how much the insult angered Jerem. “I would have said they are panicking, but Randane proves their actions might be necessary.”

“Possibly, which is why I suggest we plan for the worst. I would say sitting in Eldanhill is a bad idea, but you have protection here that you can be certain of. Amuni’s Children must act soon if they have shadeling armies across the Vallum other than the ones you defeated. The Tribunal siege on Randane also gives you time.”

“I agree.” As much as Galiana wanted to be gone from Eldanhill, Ancel kept reassuring her that his mentor was coming. She did not bother to ask how he knew. All that mattered was how soon his teacher would reach Eldanhill. “In the meantime, we have gathered as many stragglers as we could and are training them. The response and the numbers have been good. One could almost think the gods are smiling on us. How has your own recruitment gone?”

“Well enough. Better than I hoped.” Jerem grunted, a smile playing across his lips. The first one she had seen since he arrived. “They will certainly be a surprise for many.”

The words provided some relief, however small. “Can we flee, take him there for safety?”

“Oh no, not yet. He must accomplish his first task and bring the Setian together. Some parts of the world may hate him for it, but it must be done.” Jerem stared out the window. “He will need an army behind him. One unlike the world has ever seen.”

“Still it might not be enough,” she said under her breath.

“No, it might not.” Jerem’s voice was grim. “But at least he will give the people some belief, a place to turn. Despite what we have preached, there are no saviors, Galiana. The people, the world itself must carry the brunt of what is to come. All we can do is help in any way we can to lessen its impact.”

Galiana couldn’t help but hunch in on herself at such a prospect. “What if he is killed like all the others before him?” It pained her to ask, but she needed to hear these answers, feel what was at stake from another mouth. One she trusted.

“Then chances are we all die. And whoever remains standing will enslave those who survive.”

Galiana pondered what Jerem said. This could not be the last chance. Out there, somewhere, someone else knew what was happening. Someone else was preparing a way to help Denestia. She had to believe that. If she did not, then her own hope would abandon her. “What word from the Iluminus?”

“Quintess has set things in motion. She and a trusted few.”

“Then I guess it is time for us to see this to the end.”

“Agreed,” Jerem said, “but timing is delicate. Do not move until you are forced to do so.”

Galiana nodded absently, her mind drifting off to consider how best to protect Ancel and what the future held if the world burned.