Embers of a Broken Throne (22 page)

A blue glow leaked from the once dark doorway.

Enthralled, Ancel entered.

In a room given its glare by the blue luminance, symbols and glyphs decorated the floor, the walls, the pillars. But none of those held his attention.

Not so for the towering silver spike at the back of the chamber. His gaze was riveted upon it.

Below the Chainin shone the blue light’s source. An orb, several feet wide and tall, displayed a series of soundless images and action.

Battles ran their course, men against men; men against shadelings; shadelings against shadelings. A multitude of races, banners, and armies. Within them all, one constant spun to the forefront: a man, garbed in different iterations of armor, won victory after victory.

Ancel gasped as he recognized the face from countless years studying under Galiana and at the Mystera. This man was Nerian the Shadowbearer.

Another image superimposed itself over Nerian, the differences subtle at times, drastic at others, but enough to maintain the illusion of a separate identity. The final picture showed a giant of a man, Etchings covering his body, armor seamless, a huge
divya
greatsword in one hand.

The man and the Shadowbearer were one.

Ancel’s heart felt as if Ryne’s sword had clove it in two. His knees weakened. “No,” he yelled. “NOOO!”

“Ilumni help us,” Stefan cried.

I
ntermezzo 3

A
rchrender Anton peered down at the boiling black shapes near the edges of the Great Divide’s barrier. He took a breath, inhaling the arid air. At first he had not believed the reports that the deadly creatures imprisoned within the Divide had somehow broken free. Constructed from Prima Materium, the primordial elements from which the gods themselves were created, the prisons were mostly impregnable. He could think of only one man with the knowledge to achieve the feat. The last time such a breach occurred had been the Shadowbearer’s doing. But that man was long dead. No other Eztezian could or would dare unravel the Forge. It held the shade’s worst creatures still trapped in Denestia at bay. This had to be the working of something greater, something far more powerful.

He, like the other Elders, had felt the breach when it occurred, the tearing of earth, metal, and wood essences that made up the elements of Forms. The shattering of the Stream’s light and heat. Moments later, he’d witnessed the counterstroke in a luminance so bright it seared his vision. Power shot through the Sanctums of Shelter, creating the barrier that now trapped the majority of the shade’s minions.

This day had been inevitable. Regardless of prophecy. Nothing could be imprisoned forever. Funny how some people saw the unavoidable as fate.

Amuni’s black plague had stalked the land as long as anyone remembered. It took many forms, from the grotesque malformed shadelings that were products of experimentation in a war between gods, to the darkness that resided within the hearts of all men. That darkness grew in many a battle, all part of one great war. A war began when the gods battled for dominion over all, and continued even after they disappeared from the world. A war of race. Of religious crusades. All the things good and bad in men. A war of belief.

Heart heavy, Anton shook his head while he assessed the enemy before him. Belief was one of man’s greatest strengths and biggest flaws. A man would fight to the death for what he believed. He would become benevolent, wax poetic, adventure to the end of the world. In the same breath he would pillage, murder, become corrupt for what he deemed most important. None more so than to enforce relationships between men and gods, to ensure the possibility of his own prosperity even after death.

A sense of helplessness eased through him as he surveyed the barrier. Eventually it too would fall. His predecessors had formed mountain lines from the Kelvore to the Everlast to the Nevermore to the Riven Reaches to help protect the rest of Denestia. Although imbued with the Form’s raw power they had failed.

In the past, when he had nightmares of this day and the ones to come, he imagined himself running, taking his people to a safe haven provided by the gods. He never spoke of his dreams. To mention them, and in turn state it would take a combined effort even from those who did not worship the Forms’ deities, would have been seen as blasphemy. As the Archrender his faith had to be beyond question. He was the most pious. The holiest of men. The deliverer.

A man could break under the weight of expectation. But not him. Long ago, he learned how to bend.

A pull, toward the near southeast, and then another even farther south than the first, reminded him that what his people saw as profane would have to be sacrificed. Another lighter tug, with a similar resonance to the others, drew him to the Great Divide itself. The gaping rent in the earth, a black gash across Everland from the mountains to the sea, held something else. A prisoner existed there. This, he knew beyond a doubt. He recalled the short years spent in her loving arms, hearing her comforting words, the nights she put him to bed with stories such as the one before him now.

To have a chance in the upcoming war began with her. Melancholy edged through him with the thought.

He raised a hand encased in stone and metal.
Steadfast and immovable as the mountains
, he thought to himself. “Summon the Stoneguard. We march.”

C
hapter 29

W
ith darkness and distance as his sole allies, Ryne waited next to the Entosis amid the smell of fresh earth and rich forest. Insects played a melancholy tune to match his mood. Avoiding disaster with Traushen had been a close thing. To repeat the feat this time required him to leave. He ground his jaw. He hated feeling as if anything or anyone forced him to flee.

Little choice remained to ensure Ancel’s growth and safety. He knew the risks with the throne room and the Chainin the day they revealed the plan to return to Benez, but the resonance he sensed spoke of a Forge rather than Ancel’s presence causing the
divya’s
reaction. Traushen came to mind as the person responsible, but his gut told him it was too obvious. He wished he had more time to prove his suspicions, but the enemy had outmaneuvered him.
If wishes had wings.
He smiled grimly as he thought of the words Stefan often used. Blowing out an annoyed breath, he continued to wait.

“So it’s true.”
Ancel’s words echoed through their link. So did his hate. His fury was a beast bubbling below the surface, barely restrained.

“Is it?”

“You wouldn’t be where you are if it weren’t. I’d have come for you.”

“Yes, you would have, and I believe that was the intention behind it. First Traushen and now this immediately after. The person behind the plot was certainly persistent, so to prevent any misfortune, I left to give you a chance to think. You sought the Eye?”

“Can’t you tell?”

Ryne smiled.
“Good. Then you’ve taken to the first lesson well. Control is everything.”

“This is the secret you and Irmina kept from me.”
A sense of hurt carried across the link.

“Don’t treat her differently because of this. She did what was best for you.”

“I can still come after you.”

“You could, but you won’t. You have a choice to make, to help save your people and at the same time gain the power to challenge me, or simply consume yourself with my immediate demise. I doubt you’ll make a foolish decision. The first achieves both purposes in time. Also, you realize there’s a greater plot afoot.”

Silence.

“Why? If you’re him, then why help me? Why not just kill us all?”
The quaver in Ancel’s voice tore at Ryne.

“Because I’m myself now. I told you the Shadowbearer was under the shade’s influence.”

“Why do you say it as if you aren’t one and the same?”

“The part of me that would kill innocents is dead. At my weakest when I had used Mater without the Eye’s protection, I left myself open to influence, either by the Nine or the Skadwaz leading Amuni’s Children. Perhaps both are part of the same plot. Even when my actions seemed to say the contrary I have always obeyed the gods’ mandate to protect Denestia.”
A tide swelled in his chest, insurmountable like the Sea of Swirl’s maelstroms.
“But I am me now, Thanairen Danindad Adelfried, Materwarden of the shade, Ruler of Undeath, the Sealer of Fates. Let those who would summon the gods before their time tremble in my wake.”

“I am not impressed.”

Ryne laughed.
“Good. You, of all people, shouldn’t be.”

“You do know I’m going to kill you.”

“Perhaps. If it is needed for you to acquire my Tenet, then I welcome it. But remember, others before you have lost sight of their goal, have tried to take me before their time. They all died.”

“Like you said, I’m no fool.”

“Agreed, which is why you must go to the Broken Lands. You might be in more danger here than any other place. That memory Forge you saw wasn’t the Chainin’s reaction to your presence. Someone among you, other than Traushen, knows who I am or who I used to be.”

“A netherling?”

“Or someone from the Shadow or Light Councils. You can rule out shadelings. I warded Benez against any guise they might wear.”

Ancel sighed.
“On one hand I have you to contend with and on the other I have the Nine’s agents and Amuni’s Children. Neither of whom we’re strong enough to defeat as yet.”

“Alone? No. Combined? Possibly. But your brother is on another task. Your sister, however, should be able to help with your endeavor to the Broken Lands. Speak to Jerem. The man has more secrets than an old whore.”

“Nothing is ever easy.”
The sense of a headshake passed through the link.
“It feels strange contemplating advice from a sworn enemy. Any sensible person would ignore you.”

Ryne asked the question niggling at him.
“How is Stefan handling this?”

“To say he’s in a rage would be an understatement. He’s summoned the Council and demanded they send out an army to hunt you down. He even went so far as to say if they didn’t that he’d lead those loyal to him in the endeavor.”

“It would be a mistake.”

“How so?”

“He’d leave Benez and your army exposed to Varick should the Tribunal strike now. You would have to stay. It might be what the Nine or whomever exposed me wishes.”
Ryne sensed Ancel’s distrust. It beat with its own rhythm through their link.
“By now you realize that feelings are laid bare along the link. You know this is no deception.”

A long silence stretched between them. Finally, Ancel spoke.
“When the time is right, where will I find you?”

“You will know.”

Ancel had started down the path, and although it might be sooner than intended, Ryne meant to see him to its end, good or bad.

“Perhaps, it’s silly of me to ask, but as they say, a man will never know until he tries,”
Ancel said,
“What do you plan now?”

“Why, to reclaim what is mine, of course.”
With those words, Ryne opened the entrance to the Entosis and stepped inside, cutting off the link.

When he travelled to the necessary location inside, he opened another door. The Nevermore Heights’ mist-shrouded peaks greeted him, the air warm despite the mountainous terrain. In the center of the Nevermore stood the great Svenzar citadel of the Stone, a mountain unto itself.

C
hapter 30

“W
hatever you do, you mustn’t reveal your knowledge to Ancel,” Jerem admonished with a point of his slender, aged fingers. Thin lips drawn in a tight line, he peered off toward the Netherwood.

“How can I not? By now he must have put it altogether, he’s no fool. He’s already inquired about my animosity toward Ryne on several occasions.” Irmina gritted her teeth against the idea of what Ancel must be feeling. She blamed herself for not telling him in the first place. Coming to this spot on Benez’s walls, with the cool air and the gray quilt above her, had allowed her time to think, to reach a decision. Until Jerem’s arrival.

“If you do, it will hurt him further\ This unfortunate event has dented his already fragile trust. He needs people at his side he can rely upon now more than ever. At least to stay the course for the Broken Lands and the steps afterward. Steer him as necessary.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Deny your knowledge. Tell him your reaction to Ryne was because of your ordeal with the rockhound or that you blamed him for not doing more to help Carnas’ people after the shade took them. Stefan is already making outrageous demands. You, Trucida, and I know Ryne is no threat to us, but we cannot argue the point with anyone else without creating suspicion.”

She opened her mouth to speak and stopped. “He’s here.”

Moments after she spoke, Ancel appeared in the alcove a few dozen feet from where they stood. Face mired in flickering shadows cast by lamplight, he strode over to them, his eyes devoid of any emotion. It pained her to see him like this.

“Jerem, how soon until the Tribunal’s forces arrive?” Ancel asked with such certainty that she frowned.

“Perhaps a week.”

“See to it that they’re here in five days.”

Jerem arched wispy eyebrows.

“Ancel,” Irmina began.

“You have access to Heralds, correct?” Ancel gazed off toward the east, ignoring her. It hurt.

“Yes,” Jerem answered.

“Good. Pass a message through the maps that Varick must come by afternoon five days from now.”

“For what purpose?” Eyes narrowed, Jerem watched him.

“To occupy my father. I’d hate for him to take any soldiers away from here or be foolish enough to chase after Ryne.”

“Ah.” The High Shin nodded.

Speechless at Jerem’s acceptance of the order, she waited for Ancel to continue.

“You two, Cantor, Quintess, and Mirza are among the few I can trust.” Ancel shifted his attention to Jerem. “You, because of Galiana, my mother, and Irmina. They all followed your lead, believed in you.” He turned to her, features softening. “You, because … because I love you. The others because they would die for me.”

His voice made her want to embrace him, to soothe away his agony. She almost did. A part of her pined to tell him of the zyphyl’s revelation, of the Eztezian in Everland, but that too would create a problem, present a foe for which he was unprepared. Avoiding the thought for fear of the developing link between them proved to be harder by the day.

To Hydae with Jerem, she decided. “Ancel, I’m sorry I never told you of Ryne. Not a day passed that I didn’t want to, but I knew you needed to learn from him. There was no one else, and if you didn’t learn to control your power, you would die.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I couldn’t have that, couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.” A weight lifted from her, even if her other secrets were a different burden.

Jerem’s expression could have broken rocks, but she didn’t care. She felt liberated.

Ancel was simply gazing at her, eyes soft. “I understand. I hate it, but … but I understand.” He let out a deep shuddering breath. “And besides, how can I be angry with you when I kept my own secret? I killed your aunt. I burned the city down around her.”

“I know,” she said, smiling. “I always knew.”

“Then why? Why did you ask so many times?”

“Because I wanted you to be able to tell me anything, to know that I would be there for you regardless. Not to mention that I wanted to be sure, because I really intended to kill her if you hadn’t.”

Ancel’s face contorted for an instant, the expression somewhere between joy and grief.

She took a step toward him and threw her hands around his shoulders. “I love you.” She buried her face in his neck, inhaling his scent. He smelled like the Netherwood, but it was he, in her arms. Nothing else mattered.

“I love you too.”

Hearing those words never felt so good. Contented at last, she held onto him, before a prickle of concern over what was to come edged through her, made her tense.

“What is it?” Ancel leaned away from her, the shadow of a frown crossing his face.

“What you might do next troubles me.”

“Almost everyone expects me to take up my father’s call, to rush after the Shadowbearer.” He released her, gazing off toward the forest. “Soon, word will go out to the other kingdoms that he lives. Whether they take it as rumor or fact matters not. Benez will become a target. It already is with Varick’s army on our doorstep. Going after Ryne now would be the short term solution, but this isn’t a quick Senjin game, it’s one with a hundred different strategies, and it’s time to put mine own into action.

“You wonder what I’ll do, well I will tell you. We’re going to the Broken Lands first, and then wherever else afterward until I’m strong enough to kill Ryne and help defend the land against whatever comes. We will not be cowed, we will not succumb, and we certainly will not fall to the shade or the Nine.” His clenched hands shook, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I was afraid you’d let what happened sway your decision against doing as Ryne suggested in the first place,” Jerem said. “But I see now that my fears were unwarranted. Any other way I might help?”

“Yes, in fact, there is. Call to account whatever influences you have in my sister’s court. I need her army to help stop the shade in the Broken Lands.”

Jerem stroked his beard. “Such a venture might please her.”

“When she agrees, tell her to meet us at Ostere. Also,” Ancel continued, “you hold sway over the majority of our Matii, see to it that they deny my father any help if he seeks to go after Ryne. I will speak to the other Council members myself. And see what influence Leukisa and Ordelia might have on Varick’s men or the Knight Commander himself. Lastly, don’t reveal any plans until absolutely necessary.”

“As you wish.” Jerem dipped his head slightly.

Irmina arched a brow at that. She couldn’t recall ever seeing Jerem take such direct, abrupt orders from anyone. “What am I to be doing when all of this is happening?” she asked.

“First, you’re going to give me a hand in the Entosis, and then coming with me and bringing our friends.” Ancel nodded toward the Netherwood.

“Well, if there’s nothing else,” Jerem said, “it is time for me to put things in motion.” He shuffled away, cane tapping on the bricks. After a bit, he paused. “I must say, I’m surprised how well this turned out, all things considered.” He continued into the alcove and the darkness beyond.

Unable to hold back, Irmina threw her hands around Ancel again and hugged him tight. She so much welcomed his scent that she buried her face in the crook of his neck, and let go of her tears. “How long have you been inside the Eye now?” she said after a few moments.

“Since it happened.” His shoulders sagged. “I fear what I might do if I come out.”

She could only imagine what he felt. “You realize you can’t remain within it forever?”

“As long as I’m using Prima and not Mater to Forge, I should be fine. At least for the moment.”

In her guise as a Devout she’d witnessed a Matii who’d remained within the Eye for too long while Forging. When the beings within Mater had fully consumed her sela, the woman had gone mad, killing everyone around her. Irmina shivered to think of such a fate befalling him.

“I will manage.” He stroked her hair.

“Are you certain?”

“No. But it makes no difference. I
have
to.”

She understood. It made her want to do something, anything to help alleviate his burden. “So what’s this plan for the Entosis.”

“One you’ll enjoy.”

As much as the words should have made her feel better, the emptiness in his voice caused her to hold him tighter. Lightning and thunder heralded a patter of raindrops. Unconcerned, she clung to him.