Aegis of The Gods: Book 02 - Ashes and Blood (20 page)

C
hapter 31

I
rmina tensed as the search party surged through the snow and away from the small cave set in the cliff behind them. Fear and worry tied her stomach in knots. She had stopped feeling the link to Ancel not long after he left Eldanhill. Her mind conjured the worst possible scenarios from its absence.

“On the other side of that ridge,” a tracker yelled above the rockhounds’ baying.

Similar to the one she controlled in the Mondros Forest, these had a stony carapace, but were not as large, maybe the size of a wolf. The six-legged creatures paced back and forth at the plateau’s edge.

Ahead of her, several High Ashishin in woolen trousers and fur-lined jackets picked their way toward the edge of the ridge. Half a dozen Pathfinders in their customary silver armor, faces enclosed in full helms, followed them. The trackers were pointing below as she caught up.

The tiny forms of three people, two on horseback, were fleeing through a gully several thousand feet below them. Somehow unimpeded by snow, they made good time. The largest of them was carrying another person on his back. Sunlight glinted from swaths of color on the big man’s arms. Irmina’s breath caught in her throat. At once she knew that was Ryne and Ancel. She attempted to find the link but came away with nothing.

One of the High Ashishin snarled. Three others raised their hands.

Essences of cold coalesced as they sapped them from the ice, snow, and the chill in the air itself. A crackling sound ensued; a semi-transparent bridge formed. It elongated out over the precipice and down.

A roar reverberated, rebounding off the surrounding cliffs. The bridge shattered.

Icy shards careened through the air. Quick as thought, the Pathfinders erected a shield of solid air. When the projectiles struck its translucent surface, they broke into pieces. The Matii scrambled away from the precipice.

“They dare to attack us?” High Jin Quintess blurted, round-eyed, auburn hair spilling about her face. “Finders, use—”

A gust of howling wind cut her off. It abruptly grew to gale-like proportions, snowflakes pelting them, tiny icicles pinging off armor, and thudding into Irmina’s clothing. If not for her layered wools and furs, Irmina was sure the wind and icy barrage would have sliced to the bone. Squinting, she pulled her scarf up to cover her mouth and bowed her head. The snowflakes became pebbles.

However, she knew they shouldn’t be exposed to the hail of ice. The way the ridges and plateaus formed, with this one being maybe a few hundred feet from the one directly opposite, and the method in which the outcrop of the ridges above extended over each other, they should have been sheltered from such weather. The storm had found a way to funnel itself down into the passage.

Before she could dwell on the idea, the hail grew bigger, some almost the size of a fist. Now, they didn’t simply thud against her clothes. They hurt. One struck her in the head. She cried out. Bright lights danced before her eyes. A moment later, she felt something wet under her fur-lined cap. Warmth trickled down her brow followed by the sharp scent of blood.

She thought she heard yelling above the gale, but when she glanced up she couldn’t see but a foot or two in front of her face. Ice crusted her eyebrows and lids. Instinctively, she retreated to the cliff face rather than attempt to move forward against the swirling eddies buffeting her. Her breaths grew raspy as the temperature plunged.

Head throbbing, she remembered the caves. With her back to the icy wall, the torrent of the storm was less. She edged sideways, a hand feeling along the cliff to where the opening should be. When she met empty air, she grasped the edge and pulled. The cave mouth and the warmth within yawned blessedly before her. Breaths coming in ragged gasps, she stumbled inside.

Irmina blinked several times for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. A rustle of movement sounded in a corner, and then a light bloomed. The luminance resolved into a small fire. Around it was what remained of their party.

There was High Jin Quintess, lying on her back, eyes closed; High Shin Hardan, his eyes reflecting the flames, silver hair soggy as he worked a mending on Quintess; High Shin Cantor with his broad back against a wall, nursing a gash to his head, blood running down his dark-skinned pockmarked face. Of their counterpart, Neftana, there was no sign. Only four of the six Pathfinders remained. Not a single tracker or rockhound was among those inside.

A sound drifted over the howling wind outside. Several more joined it. Although her head throbbed, Irmina frowned. It was a bark ending in a roar or piercing growl.

She reached her senses out and recoiled as her mind touched another consciousness. It was like slamming her fist into a brick wall. She gasped.

“What is it,” High Shin Cantor asked, his voice a dull rumble steeped in pain.

“Daggerpaws,” Irmina replied. “Hundreds of them.”

C
hapter 32

A
ncel drew the sword. The Etchings running down the blade glowed. As they did so, the essences rushed into its surface and bonded. In a burst of luminance, the weapon transformed, its width increasing to massive proportions made up entirely of completed elements. The Etchings spelled out a single word.

Antonjur.

He pointed the sword skyward, to the heavens above Jenoah.

Elemental power roiled across the sky as if the gods of Streams and Flows battled for supremacy. No, not as if. They
did
indeed battle. He felt them. The threads of their power, of their essences, flowed and congealed all around him. He imagined their fear-inspiring visages clad in the finest armors, only their sparkling eyes showing through slits in their helms.

Ilumni and Amuni wielded the elements of Streams. The essences of light and shade within each comingled. The god of light’s power resonated in the lightning flashes and in the wan afternoon sun. Amuni’s taint bubbled everywhere, from the foliage below, infected and decaying with his shade, to the darkness choking the air. Even the sun appeared diminished here in Hydae.

Opposite those two, Ancel sensed the twin goddess and god of Flows lashing out together. Their power sent prickles across his skin as if he stood naked instead of in his silversteel armor filigreed with Etchings. Aeoli commanded the void, using the air itself to form the storm winds. Hyzenki paired with his sister in the fight, breaking the thunderheads to make water join the fray. Black rain pelted down before howling winds whipped the drops sideways like arrows shot from a million bows.

However, the attacks were not aimed at each other. The blasts soared through the sky, across the lands and seas, headed toward Ancel and the hundreds of thousands of people in Jenoah. A single word echoed in Ancel’s mind.

Protect.

Energy coruscated from his sword. It formed a dome many miles wide and high, encompassing the entire city. From his Etchings came a Matersurge. It joined that in the air. The primal essences were his to command. A towering figure wreathed in light formed.

The attack of the four gods struck. The world went white. He screamed.

Mouth open in a soundless shriek, Ancel jerked upright. Sweat poured down his face. His heart felt as if it would burst from his chest. “Mother, Da …” his voice trailed off as the greenery around him caught his eye.
A dream
. He gulped in air, let out a slow breath, and then frowned.
Green? And why was it so warm?
The last he remembered was dragging Ryne—. He froze, his heart thundering once more.
Where am I?

Dotted by occasional blooms, verdant plains of grass spread down from the slope where he sat. Beyond them was a lake, its waters glinting with the sunlight, and a forest with so many different shades of color it appeared as if someone draped a rainbow atop the trees. The aroma of fruits and flowers was so overwhelming he could taste them. The expansive forest continued to where a mountain sprouted in the distance, a titan of earth and stone wearing a green cloak, its shoulders and peaks disappearing in mists and clouds. He scrubbed at his eyes and licked his lips, but neither the sights nor the tastes wavered.

Although he couldn’t see them, he felt the pull of essences as if they wanted to snatch the skin from his body. It brought memories of the night the man in black took his mother. He slid his hand to where the link said his sword should be next to him and closed his fingers around the hilt.

“You’re awake, finally.”

Ancel almost leapt out of his skin. He snapped his head around. Behind him, Ryne stood with a hand on his hip. Eyes narrowed, the giant man, stared at him.

After swallowing a few deep breaths that he hoped Ryne didn’t notice, Ancel found words. “What happened?” He somehow felt more refreshed than he had in a long time.

“You Forged too much Mater in your efforts to help me. You not only depleted your sela, but you damaged your aura.” Ryne still squinted.

Ancel remembered what he saw leaking from Ryne and the cracks in the man’s aura. He nodded.

“It’s why I needed to get here and brought you.” The tightness in Ryne’s eyes eased. “There are several outcomes to a broken aura. Madness can be a result. Death is inevitable if the damage isn’t completely sealed. This,” Ryne gestured around them, “is one of the few places where such a mending can take place. It’s also one the few places where an Eztezian can empower their Etchings.”

Ancel took in the rest of their surroundings. Sparkling with minerals, canyon walls rose behind them, stretching up so high they appeared endless. A waterfall splashed down a sheer cliff face that was black and green from the water flow and the vegetation thriving there. It crashed into an emerald pool below. From there, the water flowed off into a twisting yet short river pouring into the center of the valley to form the enormous lake.

Whistles and singing calls played a medley of life, each refrain higher than the next. Multicolored birds flew in a dozen or more flocks toward fruit trees along the plains. Small herds grazed on the grassy slopes. Among them he spotted sheep and goats. Slotopes rolled along the ground in their shells, then uncoiled to reveal six legs, four they used to stand on while reaching up, tongues snaking out to snag leaves. There were also slainen, with their leathery hide, long necks, and backs lined with several small humps, as well as other creatures he’d never seen before.

One in particular caught his eye. They were horse-like in appearance but with a longer, more tapered face. They stood maybe two hands taller than any horse. They ranged in color from an almost pure white to a light shade of gold. On their heads, about where horses normally had forelocks, stood what could have passed for horns, except they were blue in color and moved on their own. Not the flutter of hair from a breeze, but the purposeful twitch of life when the creatures flicked their heads or bent to graze. The appendages grew one above the other with the higher one twice as long as the lower. On some of the animals, their golden manes stretched down their backs meeting their tails before stretching out behind them. Those particular ones strutted majestically most of the time and made trumpeting calls.

“What are those?” Ancel pointed at the beasts.

“Kentens. The fastest animal alive if you can somehow manage to tame one. They can use Mater to port from one location to the next, similar to Materializing.”

A large herd of deer pranced and played along the edge of the big lake, while other animals settled closer to the small pools dotting the landscape like glittering jewels. Several deer began drinking from the water when the lake abruptly roiled. Two long, scaled necks shot up from what had been a shadow on the water. The deer bounded away, but some were too slow. Large jaws with many rows of teeth and an eye on either side snapped down on two of the animals. The creature recoiled, the murky waters swallowing it and its prey.

Ancel gaped.

“This place is a circle of life and harmony much as Mater itself is the same,” Ryne said.

“What is it called?” Ancel asked absently, his attention still on the lake.

“An Entosis. It exists between the Planes of Existence, but is outside the influence of our time. That’s why the weather is different here than where we left, but it’s still a part of our world, of all the worlds.”

Ancel scrunched up his face. “But aren’t the Planes sealed by the Kassite? Isn’t that why creatures cannot cross into ours from the Nether, or Hydae, or any one of the other worlds?”

“Yes. They are sealed, but as I understand, if you travel deep enough into an Entosis you will encounter the Kassite itself. It can be crossed there if you’re strong enough in Mater. Some say you would need power comparable to a god.”

For a moment, Ancel searched his memory for any familiarity but drew a blank. “How come no one has ever mentioned this … Entosis … in any books I’ve read?”

“Not everything in the world can be found in a book. Only Matii of considerable power can sense, much less enter, an Entosis. I’m uncertain if even High Ashishin are strong enough.”

That would mean …
For the first time, Ancel noted the absence of Galiana, Mirza, and Charra. Their horses grazed nearby.

“They’re here,” Ryne said to his unspoken question. “Well, all but Charra. They’re off gathering kinai.”

“But you said—”

“A powerful enough Matii can bring a few into an Entosis with him. Five are the most that can accompany me.”

“If that’s so why isn’t Charra here?”

Ryne took a breath. “We were being chased by Pathfinders. Charra decided to be a diversion.”

“What?”

“Don’t be too concerned,” Ryne said reassuringly. “Judging from what he is, I doubt they’re strong enough to overwhelm him. At the very least, they can’t stop him from escaping.”

The certainty in Ryne’s voice eased the tightness in Ancel’s shoulders.

“And in case you’re curious, he has more than enough power to enter an Entosis on his own. In fact, go ahead, open your senses, and take a look around you.”

Ancel did as requested. Essences spilled around him in pools, waves, and bands, thicker, richer, and more complex than anything he’d witnessed before. Some of it had the viscous consistency of blood. They spooled and dived, congealed, intertwined, and whipped about in a display of dizzying colors. It was like what he’d witnessed when he unleashed the power to summon the netherling but multiplied tenfold. He recognized many essences, but others he couldn’t begin to fathom. He gasped when swaths of shade swept by him before flying off to join the others. The movements of the essences were more akin to living creatures, frolicking and cavorting along the light breeze.

What he noticed next were the voices. He could discern those he normally heard, but they were muted in comparison to the constant susurrus of the essences here. They made no demands of him. Exactly what they said, he could not tell.

“Amazing isn’t it?”

Speechless, Ancel nodded.

“These are the primordial essences from which the ones that inhabit our world are formed. The ones you don’t recognize are completed elements. It will be some time before you can manage to Forge those, if ever.”

“What are they called?”

“Prima Materium.”

“How is it the shade is so prevalent among them?”

“Shade is a part of most things, Ancel, as is light. Because men use shade for wickedness doesn’t make it evil. It’s the intentions of those who wield it that dictate such a distinction. I know,” Ryne continued as Ancel arched a speculative eyebrow, “some would say that’s blasphemy, but it makes it no less true. Remember when I mentioned the relation between essences and emotions?”

Ancel nodded.

“Apply those same concepts to the gods. It’s the touch of the gods that give each essence its individual aspects. Ilumni’s benevolence exists in the light. Amuni’s malevolence in the shade. Bragni would be heat, passion, anger. Rituni is cold, empty, indifference and so on. We Eztezians believed that at one time the essences simply were.

“Imagine an ocean unaffected by weather or current. We think that the elements themselves were perfectly balanced and intermingled, but the presence of the gods changed all that. Yet, somehow, because the gods were opposites, they complemented each other and still provided the necessary balance and harmony. Now, man’s influence is repeating a similar process in Denestia, but with dire effects. Those are part of the differences with the essences here and outside. Think of the ones on the outside as being tainted.”

Essences drifted down, coiling around Ancel. They caressed him as they mingled with his aura. His aura. He gasped. For the first time, he was seeing it while calm. He held up his arm. In a nebulous, soft glow, it sat an inch off his skin. He tried to touch his aura, but his hand passed through. The essences seeped into it, and he could tell where it grew stronger as the luminance increased. As they drifted up his arm, they twined into his Etchings. He became aware of each stroke, each line, as if an artist carved the drawings into his skin at that moment. Wide-eyed, he glanced up at Ryne. The giant man was smiling.

“This is the secret of the Etchings. As far as I know, they’re the only way to harness Prima Materium inside an Entosis and carry it outside. You can then call on Prima’s essences at will. To a lesser extent, the Etchings will filter the tainted counterparts outside in the world, but eventually you will need to return here to replenish.”

As more and more Prima entered his Etchings, a sense of incredible power seeped into Ancel. It was like being at sea, thrust under wave after wave, barely able to gasp for air between each one. He felt as if he could accomplish anything. His back arched, and for a moment, he couldn’t think as the power suffused him. When the effect subsided, he heard Ryne continue.

“What you feel now is a mere pittance compared to what you will possess as you gain more Etchings. That is why you must master the one you already possess. And to master them requires that you know the Tenets.”

“The Tenets?” Ancel was still trying to piece together all Ryne had just revealed. To think more existed was daunting. Had he missed this much in neglecting his classes at the Mystera?

“They are a set of rules, if you will, that govern the essences. They are interpreted differently by many. For us, they’re a connection to the Prima essences residing within your Etchings. With the Tenets, you can summon their full power.

“When the gods initially created us, our jobs were to defend Denestia first, help those who couldn’t help themselves, and to build the world into something greater. When the netherlings added the Etchings, they gave us more. The power to destroy, to judge those we found to have broken the balance in the world, including the gods themselves.” Ryne paused.

“You sound like a greater version of the Pathfinders.”

“In ways but we’re much more.”

When he’d read the histories of the Eztezians during classes, Ancel often asked why they did the things they had. How was it that Mater could have overwhelmed such powerful men and women? But now, he understood. The entire world looking up to you, expecting you to save them from every disaster, every plague, every war, from famine and starvation, worshipping you almost as if you were a god. All the while, the Eztezians knew the eventual effects wielding Mater would have. Such responsibility placed on the shoulders of a finite group of people. No wonder they folded under such a burden.