Circle of Reign (23 page)

That might change if he had mastered the Influence he had stolen from the Gyldenal.

“The forests here are so dark,” High Duke Wellyn remarked as he looked up. The canopy of tightly intertwining branches and leaves resembled an overcast night, only allowing slivers of moonlight and occasional flickers of starlight to pierce its veil. Far above, the veins of the Triarch leaves were barely luminescent.

It was not actually the Influence he had taken that he planned on demonstrating, but its opposite. “Taken” was perhaps the wrong word; rather, he had learned the Influence through ill motives and subterfuge, though he frustratingly could not use its power. It was the knowledge of the Lumenatis and its workings that provided the ability to wield the Influence, but also, he surmised, alignment
with the Light’s will. Tyjil, however, was not interested in mastering the Influence as it was. His motives were darker for understanding the Living Light, for he desired to undo it. And for this, one needed to understand it thoroughly in order to comprehend its opposite. To understand the Dark, study the Light; for death, life; for pain, pleasure. He had become many people, many things; but the High Duke’s advisor pledged his pursuits to one thing above all: power.

Power did not corrupt, as some taught. Power perfected one’s true self, harvesting the fruit of seeds planted in the soil of sovereignty. Dominance. Supremacy. He understood that not everyone had the fertility to nurture greatness within as he did and Tyjil did not discriminate toward them.

“Every master needs stepping stones to his throne,” he reminded himself often.

A throne is what Tyjil knew he was destined for. Not the Granite Throne his Duke occupied, but a figurative one made of darkness, for he understood the Dark Mother and her desires. And when one understood another’s desires, manipulation was possible.

He had convinced Wellyn of the power held in the Arlethian lands and tempted Wellyn with it, but they would need time in the Tavaniah Forest, time Tyjil was not afforded when he last visited those lands three years ago. Once he could discover the Lumenatis itself, Tyjil would either harness it for himself and control it, or, if that proved impossible, extinguish it.

Unknowingly, the Borathein had provided an interesting opportunity that Tyjil intended to exploit. It was vital that he succeed and gain the trust of this fool who had traveled from across the Glaciers of Gonfrey. Shilkath claimed he could marshal a host great enough to wipe out the Senthary and claim these lands. The fool had actually given advance notice of his intent, saying his gods demanded it. The last thing he needed now was a war between the Senthary and Borathein. That would be most interruptive to his plans. But, if he could remove the Arlethians—yes, that would be fruitful indeed.

“This is some chance we take with you exposed, My Lord,” one of the Khans said. “Perhaps if you could have taken more—”

The chase-giver snickered from behind his hooded cloak.

“More? More what?” the chase-giver taunted. “I smell your apprehension, craven.” Emotional scent gave chase-givers the ability to track and discern their prey, Tyjil knew, but they could also identify the source or motive behind an emotion. Though anxiety itself may have a unique scent, as do all emotions, there were subtle ranges or degrees within each scent that were used by chase-givers to identify gender, species, and motive or reason for the emotion felt. Though not quite as clear as telepathy would likely be, it was nonetheless a powerful advantage to decipher another’s motives.

Tyjil knew more about this lethal race than a chase-giver himself would, their legends having become more myth than history as they were passed down. But his own emotions had no scent; or, none that escaped. He easily captured and recycled them. This lesson from the Gyldenal had stayed with him and he found it most useful in the presence of a Helsyan.

“Perhaps if you had brought more courage with you, Khan, we wouldn’t be plagued by your whining.”

The sentinel moved forward, glowering at the chase-giver. “My concern is for our Duke, who holds your leash, dog. Perhaps you should remember your place.” His words hissed forth. “My resolve is unwavering, while your—”

“Hadik.” Wellyn spoke with irritation laced through his words, putting an end to the confrontation. The Khan immediately broke off and resumed his guard position at the right flank of Wellyn with two other Khans on horseback. The chase-giver made a whimpering sound, as a hurt puppy would, jeering Hadik. The Khan did not react.

“I am passing the points of patience,” the tallest member of the group muttered in a thick guttural accent. “My javelin will return to your people if we do not see this proof you have promised. We require you to shoulder much of the effort for our pact to have meaning.”

“It is true,” Tyjil said, “that without a distinct advantage and well-defined plans, there can be little hope of defeating the Arlethians. This is why we are here, yes? We cede our lands to you in exchange for you exterminating the population of the Western Province. It’s a fair trade, I think, yes? Especially in light of their betrayal of your kin so long ago.”

“We can take the land from you anyway!” Shilkath threatened.

“I do not think so,” the High Duke countered as he rubbed the amulet under his robe. Tyjil heard Rembbran’s breath quicken, likely with anticipation.

“Regardless, what does this thing do for you? You will destroy your own people?” Shilkath asked Wellyn.

“Call it opportunity,” the High Duke answered. “And, the Arlethians are not really my people, are they? Besides, many more of your people will live rather than die fighting an all-out conquest against the Senthary, including the Arlethians, with no certainty of victory. The result you seek is granted at less cost.”

“Let me see this trick,” Shilkath demanded, his patience fleeing.

“No trick, Deklar. An Influence,” Tyjil corrected.

“We do not know these things. It is a trick if it is anything.”

Tyjil smiled. “We shall see, yes?” The old bald man turned to a tree, the one closest to him. He made sure it was one the wood-dwellers called a Triarch. He knew it had the most Light within it. Arlethians did not even know why they could speak with trees, why the forest was “fluent,” as they said. Not unless they were the very few who were part of the Gyldenal, who most believed to be nothing more than tales for children at bedtime. Well, Tyjil would help ensure that they did in fact become nothing more than myth.

He thrust his hands forward and grabbed the tree. The pressure of his grip turned his old knuckles white and fingernails purple as blood was truncated from flowing into his hands. His jaw quivered as he conjured up the Dark within him. A blue luminescence began to radiate from the tree and the others stepped back, save for Shilkath, who stood unmoved.

“Trick,” he said again.

Tyjil opened his mouth and sucked in, making a discordant sound as the air vibrated his vocal chords. The strident symphony of his inhale grew to an almost inhuman volume when the blue light suddenly dissipated. It looked as if it were a material that simply disintegrated. To the others, it may have looked this way, but Tyjil knew the truth. He had consumed the Light into the Darkness he held and then exterminated it completely. Forever. That portion of the Lumenatis would never be regained. The Song of Night played in his head as Noxmyra’s presence drew nearer.

Next he injected a piece of himself into the tree that was nearly as old as Våleira itself. Under his hands, the bark of the tree started to harden and turn cold. Its lively light brown tint turned gray. Great cracks and snaps were heard within the mighty Triarch, as if explosions rippled through it as it fought desperately for life, but the Dark Influence was too powerful for the tree’s Light. The change spread out from Tyjil’s touch, down to the roots and up the trunk until the branches far above with their wide-spread leaves all petrified. A loud creeking sound filled the night, the tree’s final breath of resignation. The radiance of the Triarch leaves faded and the effect spread to three other trees whose roots were directly intertwined with this now dead tree, but did not spread farther.

Shilkath smiled so big they could actually see his teeth through his thick beard. He clapped once and said, “Ha! Good trick!”

“This is only a small example,” Wellyn told him. “Tyjil will be able to force this Influence through vast portions of the forest when the time comes.”

Tyjil stepped back from the petrified wood and found himself exhausted. The dark harmony that played in his mind was fading away as the power receded. When he glanced up, he was met by various looks ranging from fear to utter disbelief, save for the chase-giver. Rembbran’s gaze was elsewhere, fixated upon what only appeared to be darkness.

Noticing the chase-giver’s attention, Wellyn came to his side.

“Fear,” Rembbran growled.

“I don’t see anything, your Grace,” a mounted Khan offered. His horse whinnied.

“Not surprising,” Rembbran scoffed.

Tyjil was still weak from his demonstration but this did not stop anxiety from pooling inside him.
We cannot be discovered! Not yet!

“Are you certain we are not alone?” the High Duke asked.

“Quite so, my Liege.” Tyjil could hear the anticipation in the chase-giver’s answer. A predatory smile spread across Rembbran’s rune-pocked face.

Do it!
Tyjil pleaded inwardly.
Charge him!

High Duke Wellyn did Charge the chase-giver. Rembbran shuddered as he prowled toward a specific spot but found nothing. His nose gills flared and he snapped his head north.

“Female,” Tyjil heard Rembbran say to himself. “Succulent.” And then the Helsyan was gone, tearing through the forest as the great devourer his kind was born to be.

SEVENTEEN

Lord Thannuel Kerr

Day 22 of 3
^rd
Low 400 A.U.
9 Years Ago

THANNUEL KERR SLAMMED HIS FIST
down hard against the beast’s head, but it stubbornly held on to his right forearm with its jaw locked. Jayden nearly cackled with laughter and pride. This wasn’t the first time Lord Kerr had moved too slowly while sparring, underestimating his opponent. He cursed himself for not setting a better example as all his men looked on anxiously while their Lord took his turn. Both soldiers and hold guard stood intermixed as they shouted their calls of encouragement, and Thannuel felt abashed as he heard some cheering for the wolf. Wood-dweller he was, but the wolves’ skills escalated the more they trained against Thannuel and his men. As Lord of the Western Province, Thannuel had ultimate command of the army of the West but interfered little with military leadership. He trusted the men he appointed over the army and focused more on his training of his hold guard, who were with him day and night.

“Thannuel, you dolt! I should have left you on the shores of the Runic Islands! Don’t embarrass me, now!” Colonel Roan teased.

“Perhaps you can do better, Antious?” Thannuel asked.

“Of course, my Lord. As soon as that beast lets go of your arm I’ll be happy to show you!”

The men looked forward to these long excursions to the Gonfrey Forest to train with Jayden’s packs as sparring against only one another had become stale, producing little benefit. New opponents were needed to keep a soldier sharp. Bringing in soldiers from other provincial forces proved dull and unproductive to the army of the West, although it was priceless training for those sent. Lord Calder Hoyt of the Southern Province seemed to send in an increasing number of his men to train with the wood-dweller army, but winning all the time in sparring did not hone the skills of the victors.

Jayden’s packs, however, had shown the wood-dwellers a new challenge. Thannuel thought it was a curious proposal from Jayden when he received it at his hold the previous year but decided nonetheless to pursue the offer.

“Are you sure this is wise? Why would someone raise wolves?” Aiden had asked. “Personally, I would somewhat question the old woman’s sanity, my Lord.”

“I am certain she has her reasons,” Thannuel offered. “But I have heard she is no reed in the wind. It would be likely unwise to presume too much.”

As Thannuel drew his fist back again for another blow, the wolf decided to spare its cranium another lump and released Thannuel’s forearm. Lord Kerr quickly inspected his wounded right arm and found the wolf had not sunk its fangs deep. The punctures were only superficial but enough of a reminder to stay focused. The use of his primary sword hand did not appear to be hindered.
Primary
was indeed the correct description, for Lord Thannuel Kerr was almost as skilled in steel with his left hand as his right. Contrary to the belief that one had to be born ambidextrous in order to achieve the skill Thannuel possessed was the truth that it was simply a reversal of balance. Imagining oneself fighting as a reflection in a mirror was often all the mental exercise required to begin to
learn the steel katas in the opposite hand. Imagining each fluid movement with enough concentration could prove more effective than the physical practice or outward action.

The wolf backed up and lowered its head and front legs, taking a stance from which it could easily attack or defend. Stepping back, Thannuel found his footing and launched forward, jumping upward from tree trunk to tree trunk, higher and higher, until he reached the top of the trees and was directly over the wolf. Without stopping, he dove down through the air and raised his sword above his head. Seeing the attack coming, the wolf launched toward Thannuel, meeting him in the air. It dodged the strike from Thannuel’s sword and found his neck with its jaws as they hit the ground entangled with each other.

“Enough!” Aiden called out. The wolf snarled. Thannuel was…laughing. Though the deadly jaws of the large white wolf were lightly clenched around Lord Kerr’s neck, the point of his short blade rested solidly between the wolf’s third and fourth ribs. Both blows would have proved mortal.

At Aiden’s command, the match was over.

Ancients, that boy is protective!
Lord Kerr thought as he looked to Master Aiden.