Embers of a Broken Throne (11 page)

C
hapter 15

T
he twin moons hung low in the night sky amid an army of stars, providing enough light for Irmina to see. She huddled in her cloak outside the house previously owned by her family. Once a villa, the building was now rundown, towers crumbling, gardens overgrown with shrubs and trees, their blooms staining the air. Vines snaked up the pillars, clung to the walls before weaving their way into windows like shadowy entrails.

“I still remember Garrick,” Quintess said from beside her. “Like you, strong and willful, and a formidable warrior. Did you know the Astocans tortured him to give up Stefan and his army? As adept as they were in the art of pain, he didn’t break.”

Irmina drew a mental image of her ancestor, a man as large as her father, clad in armor and ready for war. “What of my parents?”

“Merisse and Arshan, two great Beasttamers,” Quintess said. The woman had regained a bit of her weight since her ordeal. Her eyes were still piercing, golden pinpoints. “Although the trait ran in your family line, not everyone had the gift for it. Garrick never did. There were others like you though, not just in Seti, but also in other places around the world. Slowly they were culled before we even realized. One of your parents’ greatest virtues was their loyalty to family. They could also keep secrets. Many still believe they all turned to the shade.”

That last bit hurt. Irmina refused to accept it as true. “The notes they left said they intended to reveal the corruption within the Tribunal, how the Exalted disguised wars, raiders, and slavers in order to gain sela for their Forgings.”

“The people who would know of those notes are either staunch Tribunal supporters or dead,” Quintess said. “The fact is some of your family did serve the shade, and that knowledge was used to taint them all. You cannot blame Stefan for what happened.”

“They were my parents. I …” Irmina’s voice trailed off.

“Yes, as Jillian was your aunt, and look what she did.”

At the mention of Jillian, Irmina stiffened, rage clouding her vision. Knowing Jillian’s treachery, having seen the destruction shadelings wrought, she might have killed her own parents, if they had indeed turned. The days when they’d fled to Felan during the War of Remnants were like a dream. Why had they decided to send her on to Eldanhill? What had they hoped to gain? Were they protecting her, hoping that one day she’d take revenge on the Tribunal? So many questions, so few answers.

“How did you know I’d be able to tame a zyphyl?” She changed the subject before her emotions got the better of her. “There’s so little written anywhere about people like me, with my skills. Suppose I had failed?” It was as if Beasttamers had been stripped from the world in a similar fashion as much of the writings that chronicled the Setian or the Shadowbearer.

“More a hope than anything else. A prayer, if you will.” Quintess shrugged. “Almost every creature of the shade has an opposite. The same holds true for all the other essences. Through research, many of us concluded the zyphyls to be the equals or nemesis of the vasumbrals. If you had failed, we wouldn’t be here to speak on it.”

Irmina shuddered at the mention of the vasumbrals, conjuring images of the gigantic worm-like beasts that burrowed underground and devoured Mater to add to their strength in the same way the zyphyls multiplied or suppressed the essences. There had been dozen of vasumbrals at Eldanhill. She wondered about their present location and the training it would require for the Dagodins to defeat them.

Her mind shifted to her pet where it flew somewhere above the Cogal Drin. The lack of resonance from it said another of its kind wasn’t in the city. At some point she would check the Travelshaft to be certain.

Before that, she needed to attend to the Eldanhill folk. Steyn and other officers were directing them through several portals into Benez. Leukisa and Ordelia were busy organizing the Matii, except for the Pathfinders. Cantor commanded the full-plate-wearing warriors. The Seifer and Nema leaders had already chosen a part of the city where the refugees would call home, and had set up a perimeter patrolling with their pets. Several retired Ashishin who’d taken the jobs as Teachers helped with the elderly or infirm. All things considered, the transition appeared to be a smooth one. Everyone seemed grateful they had been saved from several more days at the mountain’s mercy.

As she watched them prepare to bed down for the night in and around the dilapidated structures, she noticed a few things. The Granadian refugees cast furtive glances in the direction of the Setian. The Dosteri soldiers kept their hands on their weapons, and the big-boned clansmen made no effort to hide the focus of themselves and their pets, often snapping commands to the animals. In turn, the Benez’s Setian warriors, particularly the ones who possessed daggerpaws, patrolled between the two groups. Already it was as if an imaginary line had been drawn.

Grimacing, she recognized the potential issues. The exiled Setian had reclaimed their home, and now it was already being encroached upon, supposedly by people the same as them but who hadn’t suffered with them. After being bandits for years, hidden within Felan’s Barrier Mountains, their natural distrust would be hard to shake. For the refugees’ part, their ordeal had been terrifying. And they’d done most of it flying banners of a people that most of them didn’t recognize as their own even if many among them were Setian descendants. For the Dosteri who had learned their true history, not only did they have to accept the Seifer and Nema as part of them, and in turn that they were all descended from the once feared Erastonians, but their future relied on the very same race that defeated them.

If the tension among the mix of races grew any more volatile, it would boil over. She wished Jerem were there to offer reassurances to the Setian he’d helped collect. As she considered her options, she realized there might be another way.

“You notice it too,” Quintess said. “The slightest mistake by anyone, and this will go badly.”

“Yes.” Irmina signaled to a young Dagodin. The man hurried over. “Send for Pathfinder Cantor, please.” The man bowed and left.

“Hmmm.” Quintess made a steeple of her fingers. “I don’t know if I agree with this. Utilizing the Pathfinders may cause more fear.”

“Because that’s who we see them as,” Irmina said. “But these people are accustomed to the Pathfinders delivering other Matii here instead of to the Iluminus’ dungeons. Some of those freed Matii were from Sendeth and Doster. Cantor and his men should know which ones.”

“How does that help with this situation?”

“We reunite them with their families. Having already found a place here in Benez, it will make it easier for the others to become accepted.”

Quintess arched a thin brow. “It might work. I always said you were among the brightest students we had.”

Irmina smiled at the compliment. When she first met Quintess, the woman had been the fear-inspiring leader of the Raijin, the Tribunal’s most elite assassins. When the Tribunal had summoned her, and she’d faced Quintess, Irmina expected nothing but bad things. As it turned out, Quintess had been testing her. She’d not just passed, but had earned the High Jin’s trust.

“How do you think it’s going inside?” Irmina dipped her head in the direction of the gray-walled castle.

“Truthfully, I cannot say. Both Ryne and Ancel have proved to be formidable. Although Stefan was once their leader, he’s not the same man now as he was then.” Quintess cleared her throat. “And then there’s the idea of being free, independent. These remnants have been that way for decades. Will they actually accept the coming change? Perhaps if Jerem were here, there would be no question. He’s a constant they recognize, like the Pathfinders. Hardly anyone remembers Trucida, even if she has a stare that could crack rocks. I would say everything hinges on Stefan’s ability to rein in his need for immediate revenge, to not lose his sanity completely.”

“Do you believe he’s that far gone?”

Quintess shrugged. “A man can only bend so much before he breaks. Stefan has carried the weight of our people for centuries.”

“Let’s hope he’s still flexible then,” Irmina said. “If he fully breaks we might lose Ancel.” She couldn’t fathom that happening. The thought hurt.

The Dagodin reappeared with Cantor striding beside him. Unlike the other Pathfinders, their leader seldom wore his full plate helm. His eyes carried the golden highlights that spoke of years spent Forging. They stood out in his dark-skinned, pockmarked face. Cantor said a few words to the Dagodin who then returned to his post.

When Cantor reached them he gave a slight nod. “Jin Irmina—”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t call me that.”

“Understood.” He dipped his head in apology. “Just Irmina, then?”

“Yes.”

Cantor smiled and turned to Quintess. “Same for you?”

“If you please,” Quintess said.

“I understand your feelings.” Cantor came to stand next to them, surveying the last of the refuges passing through the portals. “Being what you were carries the stigma of the Tribunal’s lies or at least the Nine’s. However, for us Pathfinders, we’ve always been above such issues. To us, Matii are Matii. Anyway, why did you summon me?”

“How is everything going?” Irmina gestured in the direction of the portals as they closed. Dagodins carrying torches guided the last refugees down an avenue.

“As well as can be. Berenil, Leukisa, and Ordelia have things in hand. The other High Shins are following their lead and their instructions.”

Irmina scowled. “I don’t trust those two.”

“The Exalted?” Cantor asked.

“Yes,” Irmina said. “After Buneri was exposed as a netherling I tend to think all of them have either been corrupted or are the same as he.”

“Wouldn’t Ryne or Ancel be able to tell?” Quintess asked.

“I’m not so certain,” Irmina admitted. “When I first met Ryne, his personal bodyguard was Sakari, who turned out to be a netherling. I don’t think Ryne ever knew until I exposed the creature. The one saving grace so far is the netherling pact with the gods that prevents them from attacking anyone or anything except in self defense.”

“Not being able to tell which of them might be the enemy could be catastrophic,” Quintess said.

“Possibly, except for a few things,” Cantor said. “Ryne re-attuned the Vallum of Light to prevent anything of the shade or of the Nether from crossing into Ostania. And if those two were the enemy, why didn’t they simply have someone kill or capture Ancel in Randane?”

“I gave that some thought.” Irmina felt a sense of relief as the last portal closed. “I think they wanted him to destroy the other Chainin or at least stop the Skadwaz from using it. We know the Nine sees the shade as an enemy. I think they’ve been using Ancel and us. What better way to rid yourself of a potential threat than to pit your enemy against them?”

“But by destroying it, he broke another one of the Kassite’s seals.” Cantor grimaced.

“Which doesn’t make sense,” Irmina said. “Doesn’t breaking the seals not only free the gods, but also opens the Kassite completely, allowing passage between Hydae, the Nether, and Denestia?”

The two High Shins nodded.

“Perhaps to replace the gods, the Nine need to fight them first?” Cantor suggested.

“Except that the Nine are netherlings, and the gods are imprisoned in the Nether. Why not kill the gods there?”

“Something must be preventing them from doing so.” Cantor lips formed a tight line. It—“

“I can confirm that the Nine intended to have the seals broken,” Quintess said.

Irmina froze. She slowly faced the older woman.

“For years I was a Listener for the Gray Council, by Amelie’s command.” Quintess was frowning now. “I infiltrated the Light Council and attended several meetings in a dream realm the Nine used to communicate. A place much the same as what we see when we Materialize, dark and featureless. It’s how I attained much of the information on the loyalties of many within the Iluminus.

“Their instructions in the final meeting were to allow Ancel to be taught. They mentioned the unsealing, ascension, and something about his siblings. And some place that exists between worlds, an Entosis. One of their netherlings reported to them that it posed a threat, but the Nine were unconcerned.”

“Does Ancel know of this? Why haven’t you told anyone?” Irmina asked, voice low.

“I reported to Jerem and Amelie as per my orders. I can only assume one of them told him of me.”

“So, Leukisa and Ordelia could possibly be the enemy,” Cantor said. “They had no reason to stop Ancel. He was already doing what they wanted.”

“Knowing what we do, why would Ancel destroy the Chainins?” Quintess was again watching her with those assessing eyes.

“I felt the power Ancel released from the Chainin that first night. We all did.” Irmina looked from one High Shin to the next. They both nodded. “The same with when two of the
divyas
were destroyed. When I asked him about them, he said the Tribunal was trying to use the one in Eldanhill, and Mensa was siphoning power from the one in Randane. He feels he couldn’t afford to allow either party to grow stronger while we were still weak.”

“But at the risk of releasing the gods?” Cantor shook his head. “It never made sense to me, but who am I to question an Eztezian. I’m a Pathfinder. I was born to serve him.”

Irmina took a moment to think. “The Chainins aren’t the only seals, according to Ancel. The Eztezians themselves are seals.” Her mind drifted to the conversation she had with Herald Bodo. Much of what the man had said turned out to be true, and more appeared likely. If, as he claimed, the gods were created from the bodies of netherlings, then that could answer why the Nine felt they had the right to ascend. Bodo had known about the seals, the netherling plot, and that Ryne was an Eztezian. By his account, his information came from Jerem. Who was Jerem, really? How much information had died with Galiana? And then there was Trucida. Why did she feel as if they were all being misled? Again.

“If that is the case, it makes sense in a way.” Cantor grunted. “They plan to destroy the other Chainins, negating whatever power the Nine and the shade can muster, gather the other living Eztezians and fight on their own terms.”