Etchings of Power (Aegis of the Gods) (49 page)

Without pausing, she eased forward, a silent silhouette of death in the darkness. A slight motion and a mumbled curse that died in his throat, the next soldier’s flesh met her blades. The noise woke the third Sendethi.

Judging from her earlier speed, Kachien could have reached the man before he rose, but she didn’t try. The soldier leaped to his feet, fumbling about in his boiled leather armor, the still smoldering coals painting his bearded visage with its ruddy glow. He snarled and snatched his sword from his scabbard.

This time, Ancel couldn’t suppress his own gasp with the swiftness in which Kachien moved. Her form was a blur flashing by the firepit. The Sendethi’s hand rose to swing. He never finished the attack. Black blades flashed across his armor parting it like paper. With a gurgle, he collapsed.

Bile rose in Ancel’s throat, not just from seeing the murder, but sick from what Kachien represented. He bit back the sensation, the sour taste filling his mouth. Struggling to remain calm, he eased down the hill the way they’d come, his legs and thoughts wooden. The feel of the grass and uneven ground were distant brushes against his boots.

How could he have fallen for this woman, this heartless killer? The quick deaths he witnessed moments ago, and the times she’d run off back in Randane replayed over and over. Was this to be his destiny? To be caught within the throes of his power with death being the only way to appease it. He squeezed his eyes tight against the thought.

Despite the revulsion he harbored toward Kachien’s acts, he also pitied her. To be unable to function properly until she answered her power’s craving was a burden he couldn’t begin to comprehend. How did she manage to live in such a way? Even as he thought it, he knew he’d do the same if given no other choice. The idea of killing himself to be free of such a curse was beyond him.

I must’ve been a fool to think I could control such power. Look what a monster it has made of her. What chance do I stand if and when the power takes me in the midst of my emotions?

When they’d fled back in Randane, the fear of capture had been overwhelming. Watching her moments ago, tension worming its way through his stomach, had brought on the same effect. Both times, all he could do was watch. Could he really find the Eye in the heat of battle, in the flames of rage, in the icy clamminess of fear? Uncertainty filled him as he trudged through grass laden with dewdrops toward the small hollow where their dartans were tethered.

Ancel glanced over to Danvir. He now understood how his friend must have felt in the tunnels when he’d openly wept about having killed someone. Not far away, Mirza strode, his face blank, gray eyes empty. Whining, Charra padded next to Ancel. He reached a hand out and trailed his fingers through the daggerpaw’s fur. No matter what, Charra was always there for him with no concern for what he faced.

They soon reached the dip in the land where they’d left the dartans. As they often did when Charra approached too close, the creatures mewled. Ancel and his friends hurried over and shushed them. Charra stayed just below the top of the slope watching the way they’d come as nearby trees cast long shadows with the orange hues of dawn now tinting the sky. Far east, red mountains loomed in innumerable plateaus and ridges, their ranges spreading north until they met and became one with the Kelvore Mountains.

Danvir gripped the reins of his mount and drew the beast close. “Did you see how she moved? How can any human be so fast and kill without flinching?”

“Of course we did,” Ancel said. “But at this point, it doesn’t much matter. She did what she needed to bring herself under control.”

“And you’re fine with it?” Danvir protested, his lips curling around the words, disgust twisting his features. “We just watched her murder four men.”

“I thought you’d gotten over this already?” Mirza said, eyes brows raised quizzically. “At least she didn’t turn on us. Not that I think she would, but if this is anything like Ancel said, then it’s the risk we have to live with in order to get home safely.” His voice was hard but calm. “You know, when she used her power to save us at the river, it was fine. Now it’s not. You need to wise up. You seem to forget the Sendethi soldiers have tried to kill or capture us. I, for one, intend to survive this. I want to see Eldanhill again. With you two by my side. I’ll pay any cost.”

Ancel blinked at Mirza’s words and his temperament. Mirza, who was so excitable, taking much for fun, who’d been fearful when they were in the glen, had become a different person. The events in Randane had changed him. Ancel hoped he could carry himself in the same way when the time came for him to take a life.

A low growl from Charra announced Kachien’s return. She appeared at the top of the slope and jogged down to meet them. The occasional twitter from an early morning bird interspersed the still air as they waited. Somewhere, an owl that should have been asleep already, hooted.

Ancel forced himself to meet Kachien’s eyes. The tight lines from earlier no longer marred her features. As much as she’d appeared haggard, now she was the opposite—calm, serene and full of energy. Her face betrayed no emotions as she stopped next to her own mount.

In one hand, Kachien held several sheets of paper. She waved them before her. “These soldiers were looking for you.” Her unyielding gaze took them all in.

Ancel took the papers, reading them wordlessly before passing them around. Drawn on the first sheet was a likeness of him and Charra. On the others were Mirza and Danvir. Mirza hissed and Danvir swallowed.

“And they carried a map of this side of the river. The path they have marked leads to your home,” Kachien added.

All Ancel’s earlier worry about Kachien’s darker side fled him, replaced by concern for Eldanhill. She’d saved their lives yet again. Ilumni smiles on those who follow him in many ways. Maybe Kachien was his way of smiling on them. Either way it was an issue for him to worry about later. He turned to Mirza. “How far are we from the bridge?”

“At least three days.”

“I still think using the bridge is a mistake,” Danvir said. “I have a feeling either Dosteri or Sendethi troops will be there.”

Mirza shook his head. “Unlikely. You’ve taken that route yourself many times. Only the quarry workers and miners use the path through the Red Ridge Mountains down to that bridge. All others take the ferries. If we stay as we are, we’ll skip the ferry landings.” He looked from Kachien to the map she held. “May I?” She passed the map to him. Mirza opened it up. “Look.” He pointed as they drew closer around him. “Here and here are the landings.” The areas he indicated were farther north and toward the Kelvore River. “We’re about here. From the route these soldiers marked, they assumed we would go for the ferries. We stay wide, push hard and we make the bridge. No one will be the wiser.”

Kachien nodded, a respectful gleam in her eye as she regarded Mirza. He’d discussed this idea before, but she’d insisted on them heading to the ferries instead of the old bridge.

“I agree with you, Mirza,” Kachien conceded. “This way will be safest.”

Danvir groaned. “That’s all we need now. Someone telling him, he’s right. We won’t be able to live this down for a week.”

Ancel couldn’t help his smile. Mirza gave Danvir a smug look and shrugged. In return, Danvir snickered.

Kachien climbed onto her dartan, the beast’s massive carapace dwarfing her slight form. “We have no time to waste. I intend to not only reach the bridge, but be in your home in three days.”

Ancel’s brows climbed his forehead. “You plan to push us until they drop?”

“If I have to. These soldiers weren’t alone. There must—”

Charra’s low growl cut her off.

Ancel’s head snapped up as his daggerpaw bounded down the slope to them. Kachien had already whipped her reins and sent her dartan galloping up the hill. Everyone else followed suit. Before she reached the hilltop, she dismounted and snuck up the remainder of the way. Without thinking, Ancel did the same.

When he peeked over the other side, he was at a loss for words. At least forty armored soldiers, with the Charging Boar flying high, trotted toward their position on horses. One of them, in leather rather than the chainmail the others wore, dismounted and inspected the ground. He stopped, stared toward the hill where Ancel and Kachien hid and pointed. A tracker. The soldiers kicked their horses into a gallop.

Kachien’s hand pulled at Ancel. “Go! Now! We have to flee.” She ran for her mount.

Wide-eyed, Ancel scrambled onto his dartan. “It’s a regimental squad,” he said to the bewildered expressions from Mirza and Danvir.

Recognition and fear swam across their faces.

“Mirza,” Kachien called from her mount, her voice a little more than a whisper. “Lead the way. Push as hard and as fast as you can. Our only hope is to tire their horses.”

Behind them hooves drummed and armor jangled. Shouts rose from over forty throats as the soldiers urged their mounts on.

Sweat beading his forehead, Mirza maneuvered his dartan to face the north and slapped his reins. The beast took off. Hands tight on his reins, Ancel followed.

CHAPTER 40

“You should at least hear the message she carries,” Knight Commander Varick said from the tent’s rear as he scratched his scraggly beard.

Ryne’s eyebrow arched. “That a command, Varick?”

The Knight Commander smirked and removed his gauntlets. “As if you would follow it anyway. All I’m saying is if the Tribunal sent her, at least hear what they propose.”

“Because I allowed High Shin Jerem to bring me here doesn’t mean I trust the Tribunal. Even assuming they’re who sent her, I’ve heard enough from them,” Ryne snapped. “If she makes a single threatening move, I’ll kill her. I’m giving you and them, fair warning. There’s been enough grief wherever she’s shown her face. You yourself said she’s almost a Raijin.”

Varick drew a deep breath. “I’ve tried sending men to talk to her, but so far they’ve been unsuccessful. At this point, if the Tribunal’s High Ashishin did send her, and you kill her, they’ll just send someone else, someone worse. Maybe Pathfinders or even a full Raijin. It won’t be like last time.”

Ryne shrugged. “Then I’ll pray for Ilumni to show mercy on their souls like the others.”

“Listen to yourself, Ryne. Killing won’t stop them hunting you like it did in the past. It’s not that simple anymore. They won’t grant you a third pardon. No matter how many battles against the shade we win.” Varick scowled and paced to the table with its maps of Ostania showing military positions.

Ryne strode to the front of the tent. Unlike before, he didn’t need to stoop. Outside, a few feet from the entrance, Sakari sat on a crate, staring at the thousands of white canvas spread below the Vallum of Light. Sunlight glared from the towering, ever-shining wall in a near blinding effect.

“Death’s always simple, Varick. We spend our entire lives dying.”

Varick snorted. “Easy for you to say. Try telling that to the mothers who watch their children get slaughtered in these forsaken wars.”

Ryne turned back to Varick, crossed the distance to the table, and pointed to the locations listing the shadeling army’s last known positions. “Exactly why I refuse to go to the High Ashishin. I’m more important here than I ever will be answering questions about a power I don’t even understand. I’m needed here, at the front lines. We both watched too many die, friend. My soul craves for revenge. It sings for battle against the shade. I can no more shun its calling than you can relieve yourself of command and leave your soldiers here. Or leave these people to the shade’s mercy.”

Varick sighed. Even in his intricate silver armor, Ryne could tell his broad shoulders slumped. “Ryne, there’s going to come a time when the High Ashishin will no longer accept no for an answer.” The aged Commander craned his neck and gazed into Ryne’s eyes. “It’s not like you can hide.”

Ryne met the smaller man’s hard eyes with a cold stare of his own. “I’m done hiding. And I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way.”

“Even me?” Varick asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

Ryne refused to answer. The tight lines around the Knight Commander’s eyes softened. Ryne looked away from Varick and pushed the thought of ever having to fight the man from his mind. “I’ll think about it on my way to Felan Mark.”

Knight Commander Varick let out a whoosh. He sifted through the papers on his table and handed Ryne his personal pass—a gold insignia engraved with a sword surrounded by lightning. “Show this to the guards, and only state once that you’re there to see Miss Adler.”

Ryne nodded and strode toward the tent’s entrance. “Varick.”

“Hmm?”

“Warn her. Let her know I decide when I feel like meeting.” Ryne didn’t wait for an answer. He raised the tent’s flap and ducked outside.