Aegis of The Gods: Book 00 - The Shadowbearer (10 page)

C
HAPTER 10

A
s the sun drifted high enough to illuminate the broad shoulders and soaring peaks of the Cogal Drin Mountains, Celina and Anton skipped along the garden path. Rose vines climbed up one side of the villa, the red and yellow blooms adding color to the otherwise drab sandstone and granite walls. Two months had passed since Stefan came home, and these daily walks with his children were now a routine he anticipated. His children brought a smile to his face, made him laugh outright at some new antic, or caused him to stare in wide–eyed amazement at how quickly they learned. More often than not, they grasped the wrong things the fastest especially swear words. He needed to remember to watch his mouth in front of them.

A squeal from Celina, followed by Anton’s giggle, revealed the boy chasing her while brandishing some new insect he discovered. They ran around a circular hedge of blue bellflowers. When they returned from the other side, Anton was still after her, but this time she had somehow gotten his favorite toy soldier crafted by one of Benez’s woodworkers from him. Her own doll in her other hand, Celina was the one laughing.

Stefan basked in the joy of watching them at play while inhaling the sweet scents. Blue and yellow bellflowers highlighted most of the hedges. Carved in circles and squares, the gardens extended several hundred feet, sloping down from the villa toward Tezian Avenue. Servants tended to the flowers and small trees, making sure each stayed uniform. Beyond the gardens grew Thania’s small kinai orchard. The red fruit stood out in the bright sunlight as several workers under Perta’s direction harvested them. The day was another good one, not chilly like the past week.

The synchronous thud of marching feet announced another five–guard patrol travelling down Tezian Avenue.
Right on time this evening,
Stefan noted. He still had difficulty adjusting to their regularity. At night, a watch joined them. His inquiries about the increased security revealed assassination attempts on the King and several of his court members. Since the first attack, when Nerian lost the Knight General that Cerny had replaced, there had been no further deaths. Cerny’s promotion still bothered him. Despite the Knight General being a powerful Alzari who seemed to enjoy kissing royal ass, Stefan could not picture the benefits, not when other competent Alzari made up the King’s High Council. The Nerian he knew was meticulous in making his choices; there had to be some special factor he simply was missing.

“Papa.”

Stefan glanced down to Celina’s voice and the pull of tiny hands on his trousers. The patter of small feet announced Anton’s arrival next to his sister. With her doll, Celina pointed toward the colonnade at the villa’s entrance.

Stefan allowed his gaze to follow her toy. What he thought had been the usual patrol was marching through the gate. They took up positions next to the columns. Ahead of them rode Knight General Cerny on a roan gelding.
Speak of a shadeling and one will appear.
Stefan shook his head.

Back straight, chest puffed out like the prideful fool he was, Cerny wore a formal green jacket with silver scrollwork on the sleeves. Sunlight glinted off the three golden knots of his station attached at the chest. One of Stefan’s guards approached the Knight General. The guard bowed and a conversation ensued between the two. Cerny gave a dismissive wave of his hand then continued up the colonnade.

Stefan’s lips curled—both at the Knight General’s presence and for not hearing the horse’s hooves ringing on the flagstones when the patrol approached. “Children go inside to your mother.” He peered over to the kinai orchard. Perta was riding hard toward the villa’s stables and its rear entrance. Knowing Cerny could not see him yet, Stefan hurried toward the front door.

This section of hedge was taller than the rest. Unable to catch a glimpse of the Knight General any longer, Stefan waited. Time passed as he listened to the unhurried clip–clop of hooves. As the sound drew closer, his hand drifted to his sword. He inhaled a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

“Greetings, Lord Cerny. Welcome to the Dorn home,” said Perta’s high–pitched voice.

“Thank you. I have come for your master … at the King’s request.”

“Ah,” Perta said. “Clesi, Dani, fetch some spiced wine and fruit for the Knight General. I’m sure he must be a tad warm on a day like this.”

“Thank you.”

A rustle of sound reached Stefan.

“No. I won’t be staying long so taking my mount is unnecessary. Perta, is it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Lord Dorn?”

“Ah, yes. Pardon me, I forgot that quickly. He’s in the gardens I think. One moment, let me send someone to find him.”

Head tilted as if he was inspecting the mix of bellflowers and the rose bush winding up the trellis, Stefan stepped around the hedge and onto the colonnade.

“No need,” Cerny said.

As Stefan turned toward Cerny, he widened his eyes. “Knight General Cerny? What a surprise. No one informed me you were coming today.”

“The King sent me for you … sir.”

“Oh? Why?”

Cerny’s thin brows rose. “Did you forget? The games?”

“Actually, I did,” Stefan said. “I have not been able to think about much besides my children.” He gave a warm smile. “Perta, fetch my mount, please.”

“Yes, my lord.” Perta bowed and hurried away.

“I see you are taking special care of your gardens once again,” Cerny said.

“They’re Thania’s pride and joy. When she’s happy so am I.”

“I’d find that kind of attachment burdensome.” Cerny’s gaze roved across the grounds. “I would much rather go hunting.”

“You? Hunting?” Stefan stifled a laugh.

“What about it?”

“I’m sorry,” Stefan said with a shake of his head. “I have a hard time picturing you as a hunter.”

Cerny’s eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly as it sounds. You don’t appear the type who goes out to the forests to hunt.”

“Who said anything about the forest?” Cerny’s lips spread in a slow smile. “My hunts are more subtle. I have a nose for sniffing out conspiracies and the like against the King.”

Stefan kept his face straight and regarded Cerny with a cool expression. “Sounds useful but I much rather hunting in the wild myself.”

“There’s no more challenging game than man,” Cerny said, his eyes searching Stefan’s face.

“On that we agree.” The Knight General appeared far too comfortable for Stefan’s liking, like a cat batting around a mouse. “Speaking of games … what were you playing at by not informing me of the instability in the elements and the reason you took the Alzari? Was my warning about undermining my authority not clear enough?”

“My task wasn’t to inform you. As for why I took the Alzari,” Cerny shrugged, “I did tell you they were the King’s orders, did I not? But you wanted to flaunt your authority in front of your men.”

“Do you always follow those commands to the letter?”

“Don’t you?” Cerny still smiled. “Wait, no you don’t. Your orders were to kill all the Astocans. Whatever lives were lost because of you disobeying the King’s orders are on your hands. My sole purpose is administering the King’s wishes—for as he goes so does Seti.”

Stefan wanted to reach out and choke the man when he thought about the crazed Ashishin and the dead, but in ways, what happened was his fault, at least partially. “You should have warned me instead of allowing my men and innocents to die.”

Cerny leaned forward. “What innocents? There is Seti then the enemy. Remember that.” Cerny straightened. “Look, we can both stop pretending. You don’t like me, and my sentiments for you are the same. As for the Astocans, you did as expected.” Cerny let out an amused grunt. “You think me a fool, Stefan. You may have made a good Knight Commander at one time, but you are losing touch, becoming soft. Do not allow it to be the end of you. You hold your post for now … but know this, one day it will be mine.”

Stefan arched an eyebrow at Cerny’s boldness. Forcing his hand to stroke his clean–shaven chin rather than reach for his sword took a great deal of effort. A time existed when none dared speak to him in such a fashion. While he often returned from war to many changes, this one in particular he did not anticipate. Added to how different Nerian had grown, Cerny’s direct challenge let Stefan know he needed to tread with caution.

He’d miscalculated much about the Knight General. The man was more adept than he let on. Cerny had used that against him.
By mending the Astocans, not only did I appear rebellious, but I cost a few lives. Then I came home and refused the King’s request to lead his army. What must Nerian be thinking of me now?
Stefan couldn’t help the twitch of his lips. The Knight General might be a terrible strategist when it came to war, but he seemed to be a master at manipulation. How much of the events happening in Seti were the King’s own doing and how much was Cerny’s influence? Worse yet, were the rumored assassination attempts on the King and those achieved on some members of the court any of Cerny’s plots?

“What’s to stop me from striking your head from your shoulders right now?” Stefan asked, playing the part of his old self.

“Other than the fact I’m an Alzari?” Cerny scoffed. “I have the King’s ear and men who will say you attacked me without provocation.” His head gave a slight shift toward the guards near the pillars. “And well, then there’s your family to think about. You—”

“You’re the second person to make me feel as if they’re threatening my family,” Stefan said softly. He gave the Knight General a dead–eyed stare. “Be warned, Cerny. Neither the King nor the gods themselves can save you if you make such a mistake again.”

Cerny licked his lips. “You misunderstand. I was pointing out your family would struggle without your presence.”

“Where am I going? I don’t plan to leave or retire any time soon. In all honesty, it’s you who misunderstood. In my family, I’m the weakest. I wouldn’t wish Thania’s wrath on my worst enemy. You’re far from that.” Stefan allowed himself a slow smile.

Hooves on the cobbles announced Perta’s return with the mount. Stefan purposefully turned his back to Cerny, took the reins to his favorite black stallion, and mounted. When he met the little man’s gaze once more, Cerny’s eyes were tight and his face dark with anger.

“It’s been a nice chat, but as you say, the King awaits. Shall we?” With a flick of his hand, Stefan shooed the Knight General away, making it plain he no longer wanted the man’s presence on his premises.

C
HAPTER 11

T
he journey to the amphitheater dragged by without any further conversation. Although he didn’t fear Cerny, Stefan still kept an eye on him. He would be a fool to overlook the man now. He’d considered bringing his own guard complement, but that would have played into Cerny’s hands. He much preferred the man to be confident. Overconfident, if possible. For now, he intended to keep up appearances that Cerny’s maneuvering did not bother him. He doubted the Knight General would have the nerve to make an attempt on his life in daylight anyway. Cerny was more the type to brandish a knife in the dark.

Marching ahead of them, the Dagodin guards kept the avenues and roads clear of people on their way to the games. From the way the men managed to stay in front of the trotting horses without appearing to tire, Stefan figured they must have drank some kinai concoction before the trip. Dressed in vibrant colors and designs, the townsfolk bowed as he and Cerny rode past. The stench of sweat and unwashed bodies made him glad to be riding. Children pointed from roofs and windows, and the occasional dog’s bark echoed amongst the murmuring crowds.

“Make way! Make way!” yelled one of three soldiers at a crossroad. The other two helped to funnel people to one side or another, keeping the intersection as clear as possible.

Thousands of conversations droned in an incessant buzz. Ahead of them, a coach carrying some noble trundled along the cobbles, its driver dressed in red and gold livery. Stefan had lost count of how many such carriages they’d passed. It appeared everyone but he had remembered the games. Not that it bothered him. Dartan fights and duels between slaves did not hold his attention as they once did as a youth. However, he did understand the need for sport, especially, the games. They brought the Setian together. The coin gained filled the city’s coffers as people from all across Seti and the surrounding lands attended and spent lavishly on everything from clothes, to food, to wagers.

The huge sandstone and alabaster construction of the amphitheater dominated the landscape below as they turned onto the King’s Road. Here, the throngs packed to the sides in a milling mass as they inched forward in the lines leading to the arena’s main entrance. At certain sections, food vendors shouted out their wares beside their carts and stalls either by themselves or with criers. Their calls added to the cacophony. Smoke and steam rose from pots and cook fires. Meat roasted on spits, and stews and soups boiled in large pots. Spicy smells of peppered deer, quail, and roast chicken drifted through the air. Stefan’s stomach growled in protest. He hadn’t eaten yet. An image of the feast the King always provided brought on another grumble.

He hadn’t seen Nerian since the day he returned from Astoca. Not that he minded. The time had given him a chance to think. Whereas the Chronicles mentioned a link to the Dorn line, who was to say the King they referred to might not be someone who overthrew Nerian? Maybe even Cerny. Or could it all be some grand Tribunal scheme Galiana was unwittingly tied up in? All the years spent under her tutelage and upbringing made him doubt she involved herself in a conspiracy to harm not only the man he thought of as a father but the Seti people as well.

Whether or not the Eztezians could see all these different threads of the future was something he couldn’t simply dismiss. The Svenzar, Kalvor, seemed to believe, and so did Galiana. Head throbbing from the way his thoughts spun, he was still undecided as they rode into the amphitheater’s shadow.

“A moment, General, Lieutenant,” a gold clad guard announced.

At first, Stefan didn’t acknowledge the soldier. Then he realized the guard had used the new titles attributed by the King. Stefan gave a slight dip of his head to the man. The guard nodded toward a line of dartans crossing the street. They headed toward the ramp that led to the arena’s bowels.

Stefan frowned at the sight of the beasts. Prize fighting dartans were nothing new, but the way the handlers dealt with these ones certainly was. Normally, it took several armored men prodding and poking at the animals with long lances to keep them in line. Even then, he’d witnessed once when a creature went wild and ignored the sharp points that too often did not penetrate their tough hides. The dartan snaked its head out, snatched the closest handler, and ripped him in two. Another time, a dartan plopped to the ground and withdrew its head and six limbs inside of its shell. No amount of stabbing or poking bothered the beast. It took an Alzari’s Forging to make the animal move.

These handlers bore some kind of lengthy metal rod with a thick rubber handle. Anytime a dartan stepped the wrong direction, the handler gave the beast a jab. A jolt of blue light, much like the lightning Forgers called from the sky, arced across the rod’s tip. The beast mewled in pain, put its head down, and followed almost as docilely as a newly broken horse.

Amazing.

“Shocksticks,” Cerny said.

Stefan narrowed his eyes.

“Some Ashishin Imbuer came up with the idea.” Cerny shrugged. “They took the essences of energy during a lightning storm and infused them into the metal like any other
divya
. Then they attuned it to the dartans. Rather than needing a Dagodin to wield this type of
divya
, anyone can. Simply place the shock end onto a dartan’s skin and the reaction is instant. As you can see, quite effective at controlling those monsters.”

The practicality of such a discovery wasn’t lost on Stefan, but right away he considered other possible uses if such
divya
as the shockstick could be attuned to other things besides dartans. Before he drew any conclusions, what he saw next left his mouth agape.

A merchant dressed in silks was riding a dartan.

Seated in a hollow carved deep into the animal’s shell, the man waved to children and other folk who pointed and stared as Stefan did. Occasionally, the dartan swung its head around to reach the rider, but the merchant’s position prevented it from doing so. A shorter version of the shockstick dissuaded the dartan on such occasions. The man’s head and shoulders stuck up beyond the shell to give him an ample view of his surroundings. He tugged on reins made from silvery chain, and the dartan leaped forward in an easy lope that took it past the others and down the ramp.

“Show off,” the guard said.

“Who is he?” Stefan managed to ask.

“That’s Merchant Vencel. He loves to make a spectacle since he figured out a way to ride them things.” The guard shook his head. “I still wouldn’t risk it. Got these fool youngsters all over the place trying. Many of ‘em are dying too, behind that foolishness.”

Thoughts still swirling Stefan said nothing. He promised himself to have a talk with this merchant at some point.

“Well,” the guard said, “the way’s clear. You may go now, sir. Enjoy the games.”

With a nod, Stefan spurred his mount forward and crossed Humelen Avenue with its huge statues of giants carrying mountains on their shoulders—some builder’s representation of the god of Forms after whom the street got its name. He entered through the wide entrance meant for nobles only, nodding to the guards as he did so. Whether Cerny followed or not, he didn’t care. Now that he was within the amphitheater, his hunger pangs took on more urgency.

After leaving his mount with a young stable boy, Stefan entered the main hall. Dignitaries, merchants, and court members crowded the area, smoke from pipes floating lazily. The sweet scent from the giana pipes mingled with the perfumes of the women and created an almost sickly odor. As Stefan stepped into the room, the chatter paused as minor nobles acknowledged his entrance. Moments later the conversation buzzed on once more.

Several times Stefan swore there was a weird thrumming from the sword against his leg. However, when he attempted to focus, it disappeared. Soon, he dismissed the sensation as a residual effect from the stomping and yelling in the arena outside. A glance over his shoulder revealed Cerny had stopped to chat. Stefan took food from a platter a servant carried and continued to weave his way through the men and women to the door leading upstairs.

“Stefan,” a raspy voice said.

A smile on his face at his recognition of the voice, Stefan turned. Although bald, Knight General Senden still looked half his ninety years. His shoulders were straight and broad in his immaculate white jacket with green scrollwork down the sleeves. Next to him was Knight General Renaida. The twenty years of youth he had on Senden did not show. The man’s eyes were sunken sockets and pockmarks marred his face. His hair was as white as Senden’s jacket.

“Walk with us,” Senden said.

Renaida’s eyes shifted from side to side. Sweat beaded his forehead, running a trail through the bronze powder he used to give color to his skin.

Stefan frowned at the man’s apparent worry. “After the games.” He rubbed his stomach. “Right now, I could eat an entire dartan.”

“No,” Senden said with a hint of urgency, “before you visit the King.”

“Fine. Let me—”

“Ah, there are you are, Lord Dorn,” called Cerny from a few steps behind.

Renaida gave a slight twitch at the sound of Cerny’s voice but quickly covered the reaction.

“I have been told the King is in his chambers already, awaiting your presence.” Cerny stepped up beside them, a serene smile on his face. “If you Lieutenants will excuse us?”

“Sure.” Senden smiled, but from his eyes, the expression was forced. “We would not want to delay the General. After the games then, Stefan.” Senden bowed, motioned to Renaida and the two eased their way into the crowd.

A thumb stroking his chin, Stefan eyed the two men until they disappeared from view. He’d spent years on many a campaign with them. Never did they appear as fearful as they did now, not even when they faced shadelings.

“I’d be careful associating with them,” Cerny said. “They are the only ones on the High Council who openly criticize the King’s new campaign.”

“Now you’re going to suggest who I keep as friends?”

“Not at all, sir. Not at all.” Cerny wore the same smile on his face. “But as I said, the King awaits. Shall we?” He spun with a flourish and stepped through the door.