Aegis of The Gods: Book 02 - Ashes and Blood (22 page)

C
hapter 34

G
aliana spun to the feel of power emanating from behind her. Reminiscent of a flood drowning an open plain, it washed over her. Even the animals grazing from the kinai fruit appeared to experience it. Their plaintive cries filled the air. Several herds trotted away.

“What—!” Mirza exclaimed.

She opened her Matersense to a surge of essences stronger than any she’d ever experienced. More powerful than when Ancel had drawn power from the Chainin. They also were different to the ones outside of the Entosis: less malevolent, calm, almost comforting.

A transparent dome of energy encompassed the area where she’d left Ryne watching over Ancel. Within its borders, she made out a titanic construct of a man stretching at least thirty feet. Dark hair in long braids hung down past his shoulders. Golden eyes dominated his face. He was staring at Ancel. Shrouded by the dome, the construct’s features seemed familiar.

She attempted to draw on the essences around her, to attack the dome, but nothing happened. It wasn’t that she was blocked. The essences simply did not respond to her call. Clenching her fist, she strained her mind, willing them to do as she commanded.

Nothing.

“They won’t respond to you here, not if you intend to harm one of their own.”

A shimmer resolved into Ryne, Etchings aglow, striding toward her.

“Wha-What is that thing?” Mirza asked. “And what’s it doing to Ancel.”

“Teaching him how to use his Etchings,” Ryne answered. “He will be fine. I assure you. Mirza, if you don’t mind, continue picking the kinai. Ancel will need some when his session is finished.” He peered toward her, expression grim, eyes unflinching. “Galiana, if you will …” He gestured beyond the orchard’s red blooms.

Galiana frowned at Ryne’s demeanor, but his words concerning Ancel eased some of the concern from her mind. “After you.”

The big man turned and strode away, his leather molding to his body like an extra covering of skin. She followed.

“What is this about?” she asked as they cleared the orchard’s edge.

“You.”

Galiana almost missed a step.
What could he be referring to?
Unless …
She dismissed the thought. “What is it about me?”

“Don’t play with me.” He eased the pace and length of his steps until she caught up to him. When she did, he stopped, and stared toward the distant mist-shrouded peaks. “You’ve made an art of hiding who you are.”

This time she did miss a step. Having not released her Matersense, she considered attempting to bind the man, but the earlier futility lent her caution. Besides, for better than a thousand years her deceptions had been perfect. She made her face into an implacable mask, betraying no emotion.

He turned to face her, his eyes jeweled pinpoints, his jaw iron. “When I’d look at you in Benez, I often thought I knew you. I mean other than being High Ashishin Galiana. And I did, Exalted Jenoah Amelie, once White, but now leader of the Gray Council.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Exalted Amelie died some thousand years ago.”

“I thought the same too, until my brother’s essences revealed you.”

Ryne had to be guessing. Sure, the essences here were stronger than those outside. They matched those rumored to have existed back when the first Tribunal made the Iluminus and Damal Adelfried appointed her as Exalted.
Wait.
Openmouthed, she turned slowly and stared back the way they’d come. The giant construct was still visible. She recognized the face now.

Damal.
One of the leaders among the Eztezians, her first mentor and lover. So he did die. She choked up. All these years spent hoping he had managed to save her city. If Damal was dead, then Jenoah, her home, her city, it was ….

Ryne’s words came to her again. His brother. Memories of Damal’s younger brother swept through her; a man full of life and power, destined to become one of the most powerful Eztezians. For reasons unknown, he’d thrown himself at the shade’s armies for countless years since the Kassite sealed away his brother. In the end, with no gods to fight, he’d spearheaded the attacks against his own who’d went mad. During this time, he helped create the Great Divide. After that, he’d vanished like the other Eztezians. She faced him, unable to hide the shock on her face. “Thanairen?”

His voice softened. “That was my name once, but I cast it away after my brother’s death. I flung myself headlong after the Skadwaz, seeking revenge.” For a brief moment, pain flashed across his face, before his expression soured. “Until I found out how he died.”

Jenoah Amelie—no, she couldn’t think of herself by that name now—she was Galiana Calestis. Yet, she remembered that other life, and the events leading up to Damal’s defense of her home. Instead of sending an army of Matii to help Damal, the White and Shadow Councils of the original Tribunal decided the best course was to keep their armies on this side of the Kassite. It began the end of the Tribunal as she knew it. The Ashishin tried to reform their own since, assuming the old name, but the stain of their betrayal to one sworn to protect them tainted the relationships between the councils and the Matii. Since that day, they remained splintered.

To this day, thousands of years later, she still had faith that somehow Damal survived. If she ever surrendered to despair, she would be giving up hope on the world. The memory dredged up old pain and a longing to be by his side that she’d buried time and again.

So many years spent pointing one faction or another toward the Chronicles, all for a chance to breach the Kassite’s seal and find him. A great weight settled on her shoulders. Her age, her lost life, dead lover, failure as a leader, came crashing down. If not for Ryne’s hand grabbing her arm, she would have fallen to her knees.

Something else Ryne said struck her. Galiana pushed away from him. Few lived from Benez who knew her role as High Ashishin. She searched his face, studying the lines of his jaw, removing the scars on his face, imagining him without his Etchings. She gasped.

“You were also Nerian.” She managed in a barely audible whisper. Now she understood why Jerem kept Ryne’s existence, his identity, such a secret. All hope lost, she turned to flee, but again his massive hand on her shoulder stopped her. Slowly, she faced him.

“Yes,” he said, shoulders slumping, his face becoming a cringing mass of anguish.

“Why?” she pleaded. “Why would you do that to your own people? Was it because of Damal?”

He squeezed his eyes tight. When he opened them, his face embodied serenity. “I felt when Damal died, the pain he endured. For years, I dreamt of revenge on the councils, but I had a greater purpose. A purpose given to me by him. His final words to me were that no matter how the gods turned out, the people themselves were still more important. He made me promise to put Denestia first. It’s why I pushed myself so hard in battle for so many centuries after. Until I lost myself.

“My brother knew there were those among the Skadwaz who Amuni had taken for his own. Those he’d given power to match us. Helped by several of the remaining Eztezians, one of them captured me, invaded my thoughts through Manipulation, made me become Nerian. Whoever he is, he used me to help force the following of the Chronicles, as well as for one other task. Only I could release the power stored within the Great Divide. Only I could free the other Eztezians from their prison. You see, we recognized the threat we represented, but at the same time the world would one day need us. So we sealed off our power and locked ourselves away.

“This Skadwaz knew. I assume it must be by development of a Bloodline Affinity. He also used you and the other councils to keep searching out powerful Matii, to spark the wars, to create founts of sela, to feed on your emotions, to feed himself power. Tell me, who is Ancel’s mother? And don’t say she’s a High Shin or some such.”

Galiana cleared her throat, trying to find words. Finally, she said, “She’s my sister.”

“And following the Chronicles that you believed were leading you true, you found a man strong in Eztezian blood, his father.”

She nodded.

“Still there has to be more than that. I see the way Prima reacts to him.”

Galiana let out a long, protracted breath. “He was born in here.”

A stunned silence followed.

“I’ve never been inside before, but somehow she knew of this place. She said a voice told her of its existence. We came to the entrance one day. I couldn’t see it, but I could tell where the power congregated. Only Thania with her Gift was strong enough to pass through.”

When Ryne finally spoke, his voice was low. “She chose this place because of what she thought happened in Benez with her other children. She couldn’t have known what giving birth here meant or would do. Before today, I would say no one knew.” His voice became distant, lost in his assessment. “But whoever led her here did. Using your belief in the Chronicles, they guided her. They hoped to ensure the Eztezian created was powerful enough to break the Chainin. They knew Ancel’s act combined with the power I released from the Great Divide so long ago would unleash Prima into the world.”

Galiana’s mind whirled. For years, she and Jerem had worked with the belief much of the Chronicles were true, or at least predictions of what might occur. What if they were another ploy, similar to the ones the Tribunal already used? Misdirection and deception using man’s tendency to believe in a savior, destiny, in prophecy. She couldn’t believe her gullibility. How could she have not seen this? Had she not done the same when she and the other Exalted first formed the Devout so many years ago? Repeat the same words enough times and eventually it carries a truth of its own. Repeat it in the right places, to the right ears, and one can make people believe. A tightness gripped her chest. “How much of the Chronicles are lies?”

“Not lies, but a composition of dreams, nightmares, visions, theories passed down by us. If an Eztezian claimed to have been linked to all the Planes of Existence—Past, Present, and Future—who would say he was not? The gods made us. The netherlings gave us more power. Surely, we could see all things. Convincing isn’t it?

“Little exists to separate what is real from what isn’t, what is carefully crafted stories, and what might truly be prophecy. There are those among the netherlings, known as the Nine, who seek to harness power for themselves. They have been guiding us to specific paths that serve their purpose. It’s one of the reasons we decided to seal the gods themselves. To protect them. Only by killing the gods can the Nine take their places.

“Then there are other factions, some who believe the world is better off with the gods regardless of what they’ve done in the past. It’s been my suspicion over the years that they are behind the Skadwaz or
are
Skadwaz, looking to ensure their master returns. From what I witnessed at the Chainin, this Skadwaz can draw on Prima. Not only that, but its release will tempt the other remaining Eztezians. If they can find concentrations of Prima, they no longer need to find an Entosis to recharge. But why? This is all wrong.”

“I don’t believe you,” Galiana said, although what Ryne said rang with truth. “I cannot imagine deception on this grand a scale.”

“Oh?” Ryne said. “So then what you’ve taught at the Mysteras or all across Denestia is true? Or the way blame was laid at Nerian’s feet. How about that? Didn’t the Tribunal themselves fail to reveal every Matii that was at the brink to purposely goad me to act? Didn’t they play me against the Erastonians, making me believe the Erastonians were responsible for the release of shadelings into Seti? The war between Astoca and Cardia and their subsequent split was because the Tribunal considered their ancestors to be their strongest adversary, and therefore drove a wedge between them with broken treaties and mishandled trade policies. Is any of that less grand a scale? It all affected the world. You worked events the same as the Nine does. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Nine are planted deep in the Iluminus.”

Overwhelmed by the possibility, Galiana eyed Damal from a distance. What more of an example did she need? Damal had defended her city against a strike by the gods, but some stories and songs had it that he’d destroyed Jenoah. It wasn’t much different from how most Eztezians were normal men, outside of those from the Svenzar, but by use of constructs and with the Svenzar’s own size, the Eztezians had become synonymous with giants who protected the world.

“We need to inform the other councils,” she said, finally. “Call a gathering.”

“No,” Ryne said. “The Shadow Council will not waver in its support of Amuni, and the same can be said for the Whites and Ilumni. Both are staunch in their belief that the gods’ return is the only way to see harmony in Denestia. They’re fanatics. They would both rather scour the world of any who did not worship their gods. Neither of them are ready. Not yet.”

“Maybe, but faced with this, from the mouth of an Eztezian, they would have to change.”

“Wishful thinking, but you know better than that. They would see me dead.”

“Then it’s just us of the Gray. We still hold onto much of what the Tenets and Principles taught us. Besides, we probably have the greatest army of Matii seeing that—” She cut herself off. Why did she suddenly feel the need to work with Ryne, with Nerian? Did she dare believe what he said about being Manipulated? Suppose he was doing the same to her? She squinted but saw no Forging from the man.

“I see suspicion creeping across your face,” Ryne said. “If I wanted to harm the boy, or you, or Stefan or any others, I could have. Not one among you possesses the power to stop me.”

“Still as arrogant as ever, I see.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I swear in my brother’s name and by the blessings of the Streams, that I mean no harm. It is Denestia I want to help save.”

Oaths were not something Thanairen gave lightly. She’d never known him to break one. “Very well. What do you suggest we do?”

“First, Ancel must finish this portion of his training. Then we gather the rest of the Grays, find the other Eztezians, and discover the location of this Skadwaz. Instead of defending, it’s time we strike.”