Oathkeeper (31 page)

“I'll start on the second part.” A third goddess, Shidarva's twin, Sedvinia, goddess of sadness and joy, emerged from Uled's old laboratory. She looked down on Wylant with open eyes glistening with one extreme of her emotional responsibility or the other. “With your permission?”

“G'hd,” Wylant answered.

“Kholster,” Sedvinia called as her glow suffused Wylant. “Given time it seems as though she would have made a full recovery of her own. She has deific essence flowing through her body. Do you know anything about that?”

“All I did was put my scars on her back,” Kholster said evenly, “as requested. It is possible a little of my blood may have been absorbed as part of the traditional scarification method.”

“Traditional method?” Shidarva asked. “She's the only person you've scarred yourself, the rest were done by your warsuits.”

“Who,” Kholster asked, baring his doubled canines, “would know more about Aernese tradition than me? And given that I was First Forged, however I choose to perform an Aernese ritual . . . well, that is the traditional method, by definition. If you want a default, Shidarva, I am the traditional method.”

“He has you there,” Aldo clucked.

“Sleep now,” Sedvinia whispered, her refreshing presence flowing around and through Wylant's body, mind, and soul. “You'll feel much better soon.”

None of that was the thing he wanted you to find out, Mother,
Vax thought at Wylant as she drifted into slumber.
Just so you know.

The general tried to laugh, but all she got out was a snore.

CHAPTER 22

EVERYONE HAS A PLAN

The Chamber of Four, the throne room of the Eldrennai, was an open room without doors. Rae'en, flanked by Glayne on her left and Varvost on her right, felt her eyes drawn to the accents of various crystalline devices representing the gods inlaid into four steps that led up to the throne. Large, but not cavernous, the white marble room showed a simpler aesthetic than she'd expected. No banners or tapestries hung here, and even the royal emblem appeared worked in stone on the granite throne itself rather than the walls.

At the center of the chamber, serving as the focal point of a widening circular pattern of variegated tiles, stood a large table wrought of a metal Rae'en did not recognize. Ragged along one quarter, the rest was smooth and unlined as if it had been ripped free of some larger construction. A candle sat atop without a candle holder, just a plain off-white cylinder of wax with a new wick jutting from the top.

Four metal bowls sat arranged at the ordinal points around the candle. One bowl held water, another sand, one held kindling, and the fourth bowl was empty.

Have you ever seen this done?
Rae'en asked Kazan first by default.
In a memory or
—

She caught herself before she tried Vander next, then sent the question to Glayne. Even though he was Sixth, the others seemed to have decided he should be Prime until the current emergency was resolved and Rae'en picked a new Prime . . .
if
she had to.

New to me
, Glayne thought back.
Grivek took the throne after the Sundering, and Aern were not high on the Oathbreaker guest list
.

Rows of benches composed, via some Artificer manipulation Rae'en did not fully understand, of the same platforms she had seen suspended from the ceiling earlier lined either side of the room, populated by elderly Oathbreakers in varying outfits. Some, the Elementalists—Glayne provided—wore robes, others wore armor or tunics. Yet another delegation, mostly younger, wore scant tops leaving their backs and the scars (in some cases wounds) Bloodmane had carved there clear for all to see.

In Rae'en's mind's eye a map of the room unfolded with those individuals Glayne or her other Overwatches could identify plainly labeled, the others noted by presumed role, magical ability, and threat rating.

“The Overwatches will be granted full access,” Rae'en bellowed, stepping out from behind Glayne. The shouted phrase sent four guards who had shown no sign of moving to intercept her Overwatches back farther out of positions cowed and frowning. “Sorry about that.” Rae'en gave Glayne a brief nod as three Overwatches she'd borrowed from Mokk's kholstering moved into position at the corners of the room.

And you're sure this is all I need do to let him know I don't hold him responsible for alerting us sooner?
She thought at Bloodmane.

He'll take it as an honor and know you still trust him
.

Good.
With the loss of nine Overwatches and their warsuits, the last thing Rae'en wanted was anyone feeling worse than they already felt and running off to try and prove themselves before they had some idea how the Zaur had done this.
Do we have any clue what is taking my uh . . . personal . . . Overwatches so long? I know my father set an impressive pace, but how long does it take?

If they sleep when they are tired and maintain a reasonable pace,
Bloodmane thought back,
it may take them up to twice as long. If you have changed your mind about a patrol . . .

No
, Rae'en thought back. She wanted to say yes, but the pride of her Overwatches aside, how would it look under the current state of uncertainty? Officially, she guessed it didn't matter how it looked. The First could just order it done, but she couldn't picture Kholster handling things the same way. He would have trusted his troops, given them time to carry out their mission unless he had firm intelligence suggesting a needed change of plans.
We'll give them another few . . . days?

No more than another week would be my projection,
Bloodmane sent.
I took the liberty of having End Song check and he said, “The bulk of the bone metal of Joose, M'jynn, Arbokk, and Kazan is all in one place and moving in the appropriate direction for them to be en route to their kholster. Soul tokens of those individuals entrusted to the Ossuary are, of course, still in the Ossuary back home in North Number Two.
”

Thanks.
Rae'en felt relieved and silly at the same time.
And please convey the First of One Hundred's thanks to the Ossuarian as well.

That doesn't sound lofty at all
, she thought sarcastically. In her mind's eye, the numbers Five and Six (looking very strange in the positions normally occupied by Vander and Amber's token) as well as Square tokens from the borrowed Overwatches flashed golden to let her know they were in position.

So weird to have Overwatches who were so old their numbers were their symbols send data to her mind. Stranger still to have gotten used to them enough that not having Amber and Feagus covering her had become awkward. Did her core Overwatches feel the same about her age? Of course, Amber had replaced her father when he'd died and chosen to be merged with the souls of all Aern. Rae'en wondered if it annoyed Amber to no longer be the highest-ranking Aernese female now that Rae'en had become First.

No, kholster Rae'en
, Amber replied.
That's a younger Aern's concern
.

Sorry
, Rae'en thought back.
I didn't mean to send that
.

You didn't send anything
, Amber thought,
I just felt the edge of it and I can read you well. You think a lot like your father
.

That's high praise
, Rae'en thought.

Yes, it often is.
Amber paused a moment.
And praise is how I meant it in this instance, but you could do with a little more of your brother's viewpoint, too. Oh, and Vander's still fine by the way. Sleeping soundly
.

Thanks for watching him
, Rae'en thought.
I know others could have done it, but we'll both rest easier having you and Feagus right there with him
.

I think they are about to start
, Glayne interrupted.
On your right
.

Rae'en inclined her head toward a hunchbacked figure with a deformed skull shambling forward, flanked by Crystal Knights and Elementalists on either side.

The guardian of the throne thing
, Varvost prompted.

Right
, she thought back. It had slipped her mind completely in all the rush and chaos.
Thanks
.

“I apologize, kholster Rae'en,” the elf purred. “Prince Rivvek has asked if you wouldn't mind observing the proceedings from the throne.”

The name Sargus scrolled under the Aiannai's image in her mind's eye in Bloodmane's elegant script. An image of the Aiannai as he truly was without his false hunch and haffet disguise and of Bloodmane etching Zhan's scars into his back flashed through Rae'en head.

He's an Oathkeeper
, Glayne thought at her.
Safe to trust him, like as not
.

“There will be no objections?” Rae'en asked.

“No further objections.” Sargus bowed. “It is a statement of acknowledged authority Prince Rivvek feels imperative. Not necessarily for today's audience, but—”

“I have no objections.”

Kholster Rae'en, I'm sorry, but you should know that Prince Dolvek is on his way to the capital to interrupt the ceremony
.

It was on the tip of her mind to tease Bloodmane, call him something mean, but she couldn't do it. In the rush of things, she was glad to have him in her head. His steady calm was balm to her mind, his advice, his presence reassuring.

What does that idiot think he's going to do about it? Isn't he supposed to be at South Watch?

He slipped away from the group. I apologize. I—

Don't worry about it, Bloodmane
, Rae'en thought.
If he shows his stumpy little ears here, I'll kill him just like I killed his father.
Rae'en growled.
Wait. I have a better idea.

“Hey.” Pausing at the top of the steps to the throne, Rae'en tapped Sargus's fake hump. “Prince Dimwit has abandoned his post and I am reliably informed it is his intent to disrupt the Test of Four. What happens if he does that, Sargus?”

Sargus blinked. “Under the old law, an acknowledged sibling in good standing may challenge his brother's right to rule and demand a trial by elements, but—”

“Good standing?” Rae'en nodded.
You said he left without leave?

Yes.

You were officially kholstering him?

I was
.

“I am further informed that he left his post without permission from his kholster . . . General Bloodmane.” Rae'en showed her doubled canines in a wolfish grin. “Does that leave him in good standing?”

“No, it does not.” Sargus bowed.

“Fantastic. Then as kholster of your realm's defense by virtue of command having been given to my warsuit, I declare Prince Dolvek a traitor and order that he be killed on sight.”

Glayne? Bloodmane? If you don't mind sending the word around?

*

How dare they?!

Dolvek rocketed across the Eldren Plains, propelled by a roaring column of elemental air. Salt trails of anger and grief dotted cheeks flushed red with rage. Sorrow felt bitter and wasteful to him, but fury could be wed to action. He could recall times when he would have charged into battle wearing a breastplate of conjured crystal, but no more. The sun heated the steel of his new armor.

They could call him stupid, but it had only taken him one encounter with the Zaur to understand the foolishness of the “crystal” plate employed by the knights of his order. Summoned crystal made marvelous armor for fighting humans or other Eldrennai, but against Zaur or Aern . . . something non-magical as a base became necessity.

Even then, the armorers at the watch city had looked at him like he was a fool when he patiently described what he wanted made for his personal use. Jolsit and the others could wear full plate all they wanted, but Dolvek needed to maneuver. He did have to give the armorers credit though; once he'd explained what he wanted, they'd done an excellent job with it: a steel demi-cuirass, spaulders, and vambraces over blue brigandine, reinforced with mail. The armorer hadn't had time to finish the legs, so he wore black high boots to protect his legs below the cuisses.

He hoped it would still give him some protection from Skreel blade slashes, which would serve, but the next time one of those cursed reptiles tried to sink its fangs into him, Dolvek wanted them to break. Flexing his brigandine gloves, he smiled. They still weren't exactly right, but they would be easy to cast in.

The only nod he allowed to his former attire was a cloak of dark blue with the royal seal, three intertwined castles, embroidered in silver thread across the back. He wore the hood high, buttoned into place over his three-quarter helm with a handy snap attached to the leather of his flying goggles. Dolvek had thought the goggles a stupid and ugly affectation of lazy Aeromancers until he'd gone flying in battle amid the dust and debris raised by the Geomancers and Pyromancers under Bloodmane's command. As it was, he had come to regret his own refusal to wear a scarf or mask to cover his mouth and nose.

He accomplished the same thing with a touch of Aeromancy, but it was yet one more spell of which he had to keep track. Reaching back to touch the hilt of his sword, actually one of Jolsit's spares, he pictured his father's face. Past arguments flowed through him as his shadow stretched out on the plains beneath.

They had never agreed about anything: not the Aern, the Vaelsilyn . . . not even elemancy. All of those clashes of word and magic lay on his heart, and he wanted to feel bad about them, to sense some form of regret, but rather than regretting the fights, rage that they would never have another one drove him on. So the Eldrennai had done terrible things to the beings they had created. Once they were freed, once as much amends as seemed reasonable had been made, what gave the Aern the right to come marching in and destroy everything? Some promise? And even if they were Oathbound to keep it, with Kholster dead and the oath nullified, how dare his daughter choose such barbarism.