Embers of a Broken Throne (20 page)

The name Antonjur filled Ancel’s head with images from his dreams, pictures of an Eztezian and a Skadwaz as they fought in Jenoah while the gods battled in the sky before destroying the city. “The Nether seems out of the question. And Antonjur has haunted me. Where and what is it?”

Etien turned and pointed toward the distant mountain. “The old home of the gods. It sits upon that peak, trapped in a place between worlds.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound likely either, nor enticing. Although it seems a better choice than Hydae and the Nether.” Ancel cringed as he mentioned the names.

“Even if it did seem a choice, you lack the power to breach that which protects it.”

“Which leaves the Eztezians,” Ancel said. “Heat’s Materwarden resides in the Broken Lands, but I’ve yet to discover the other.”

“Everland.”

Ancel groaned.
Nothing is ever easy.
As he pondered a trip to the Broken Lands, a question dawned on him. “Etien.”

“Yes?”

“Would you know who released Light’s Tenet to me? Who started the process for me to become its warden?”

“Normally, yes. But that part of me is vague, a blur, a memory shrouded in black and emptiness.”

Ancel narrowed his eyes as he replayed everything up until he called forth Etien. “Was it Ryne?”

“No, it could not be. He once held light, but he gave it up long ago.”

“To whom.”

Chasms and hills grew on Etien’s brow. “I, I do not know. Perhaps it returned to the Nether.”

“So that explains it,” Ancel mused. “When I activated the Chainin, the netherling that appeared bestowed the Tenet and my Etchings.”

“Your Etchings, yes, for only a netherling is capable of imbuing into living flesh, but he did not pass on the Tenet.” Certainty echoed in Etien’s voice.

“How do you know this?”

“Once the essence attached to guardianship and a Tenet passes into the Nether, it becomes tethered to a netherling and them to that plane. They cannot leave. Besides, your ability to activate the Chainin and call forth Prima meant you already possessed light’s Tenet.”

The shock of the declaration numbed Ancel. Eyes narrowing, he wracked his brain, trying to think who might have been responsible. Few possibilities came to mind, the most prominent among them being his mother. To free her he knew he needed to be stronger. The Broken Lands called. It had been heavy before, but now his pendant felt as if he carried a mountain around his neck.

C
hapter 27

R
yne waited near the Entosis’ entrance, watching the glint and glow of eyes in the darkness among the trees. Shadowed forms shook themselves like great dogs. The occasional growl, snarl, or barking grunt issued from the various Netherwood beasts that encircled him, the noise of their malcontent interrupting a chorus of insects. Coupled with their animal stench, a lesser man might have been afraid. Not so for him although the animals had all grown beyond his expectations. A good thing considering the purpose for which he’d bred their predecessors.

He didn’t have to wait long before the portal to the Entosis activated. Air twisted around it, the light drizzle spattering against its surface, forming rivulets to trickle down its translucence. For all of a heartbeat the black slit of the entrance blotted out the shadows, made a jest of the growing night.

In a long cloak with a leather vest underneath, Ancel stepped from its depths, eyes closed. He paused, swayed, and stopped. The clearing stilled.

“You’re here.” Ancel opened his eyes.

“Yes. I’m glad you found it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ancel demanded. “And why did you create all this? Was it just to protect the Entosis?”

Ryne frowned at Ancel’s attitude before smoothing his features. “I had to know you could feel the Entosis on your own. As for why I made this,” he cast a hand out to indicate the forest and the beasts, “the upcoming battle isn’t only about you. When the Eztezians fought the gods, even animals partook in those battles. In some cases it was they that turned the tide, tearing away victory from certain defeat.”

“So you found a way to make them stronger.”

“Yes,” Ryne said. “I knew the combined shadelings from the Great Divide and Hydae would require more hands to battle than all of Ostania combined.”

Ancel still hadn’t moved an inch. The rain played a low patter. “I was inside experimenting, regaining my power. Tell me, when you gave me light’s Tenet …”

The rest of the words washed over Ryne. Inwardly, he smiled. The boy had been talking to Etien.

“I never gave you light’s Tenet or claimed to. I once held it, but it wasn’t mine to give.”

“But after the battle at the Iluminus, you said—”

“I said first I gave you my light then I gave you the world’s light. Giving you my light is what I did by placing a bit of my power in every Chainin.” Memories Ryne had kept locked away surfaced. “I still recall when I realized how close I was to completely losing my sanity. You don’t want to know what it’s like … the pain … the suffering … the darkness … the helplessness. I’d done all I could in preparation for those with power like you, your brother, and sister. My aspirations made me seek power I shouldn’t have, touch Mater without the Eye’s protection, put myself at risk. But I did so knowing that one day someone would activate the Chainin and release what was mine. It would put a limit on my time to do what was needed, but at least it would see me live until the right person was born.”

Ancel’s stance softened, tension draining from his shoulders.

“You could’ve simply asked me,” Ryne said, “instead of seeing if I would lie, if I was the enemy.”

A long breath and then Ancel strode over to him. The night’s insects picked up their orchestra. Shadowy forms and glinting eyes retreated into the forest.

“The way things have gone I needed to be certain.” Ancel’s mouth twitched into a rueful smile. Relief lit his eyes.

Ryne nodded. “And before you ask, I don’t know who passed it to you. My guess is your mother.”

“Mine too.” Ancel stared out into the night, attention focused toward the north. “I have to go to her.”

“You do, but not now. You’re not ready.”

“I know that also. I must go to the Broken Lands first.”

With a shake of his head Ryne suppressed a laugh. He’d come to tell Ancel of what he’d seen, to convince him to act now, but the work had already been done.

Ancel frowned. “I felt you rushing here as if something was important, something driving you. What is it?”

Ryne told him of what he’d seen in the Broken Lands, of Amuni’s Children’s and the shade’s advance. “I believe it’s the Skadwaz’s intention to kill heat’s Materwarden and force you to Hydae. If we leave by the morning we might arrive in Kajeta in a few weeks. The city should still be intact. It was built to hold out for years. But we must go as soon as possible. If Amuni’s armies advanced that quickly they may be capable of much more.”

“Then the morning it is.” Ancel turned and mounted a nearby dartan. “First, I must confer with Mirza and then report to my father and the others. We need to gather a considerable force.”

At a brisk pace they wove their way through the Netherwood and into Benez. They travelled up the city’s winding, wet streets past the old slums, the amphitheater, and into the Upper City. Ancel drew his mount to a halt at one of the repaired villas, leapt down, and strode to the door.

“Hail, Dagodin Loran, is Lieutenant Faber in?” he said to the guard next to the entrance.

It still surprised Ryne how Ancel seemed to always remember the names of any soldiers posted with his friends or family.

“Yes, Lord Dorn. If you can wait here, I’ll fetch him.” The soldier put fist to heart for Ancel, bowed in Ryne’s direction, and hurried inside.

Mirza appeared at the door moments later dressed in a plain white shirt, trousers, and boots. His face looked somewhat different but Ryne couldn’t quite place the change.

“Ancel, Ryne, what brings you two here?”

“Oh, I can’t just come to see a friend.” Ancel grinned and stepped forward to clasp arms with Mirza. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to greet your mother, but things have been hectic. How—What did you do to your hair?”

Mirza blushed. His normal shock of red hair had been cropped neat and short. “It’s my mother. She cut it.”

Ryne couldn’t help but smile, deciding not to the interrupt the two friends.

“Someone made you do something?” Ancel exclaimed in feigned disbelief. “By the gods, now I have to meet her. I have the vaguest memory of what she looked like when we were children.”

“Not right now.” With a tilt of his head Mirza indicated the open doorway behind him “She’s asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” Ancel said, voice lowered.

“Bah, where’s my manners anyway,” Mirza said. “I can’t have my friends out in the rain. Come in.” He beckoned them inside. To the waiting guard he said, “Make sure no one disturbs us.”

“Yes, Lieutenant Faber.”

They followed Mirza into the long hall and a spacious sitting room.

“So what can I do for you? Need me for something?” Mirza indicated several chairs. “I’ve been pretty bored the last few days, sitting around waiting for this Tribunal army to appear.”

Ryne took in the room’s chairs, glanced at Mirza, and then back at the furniture again.

“I’m glad you asked,” Ancel began.

“Oh, sorry, Ryne.” Mirza threw a few cushions from several armchairs onto the floor. “The floor is the best I can do.”

“No worries.” Ryne headed to the cushions and sat with his legs folded under him.

“As I was saying.” Ancel produced a rolled parchment, brown with age, from a pouch at his waist. He stooped near Ryne and unraveled the paper. “You’ve been studying Ostania for some time now, Mirz, and Ryne, you should know the place well.”

Mirza drew up a chair near them. “What’s the issue?”

Ancel pointed to a section of the map where the symbols were drawn to give the impression of massive rents in the earth similar to that shown on the Setian flag. To the west, the Rotted Forest bordered the area, to the north, an unnamed mountain range Ryne knew as the Riven Reaches, and to the south, the Lost Sea. “These are the Broken Lands.” He tapped Kajeta to the far east where it rested in the Flaming Reaches. “I need to find a way here across territory overrun with shadelings before the city falls and our chances with it. But I can’t Materialize there. Could a Forger at least Shimmer Ryne?”

Ryne nodded. “But I doubt any man or woman could Shimmer all the way to Kajeta. That much Forging and they’d be sure to expend their sela.” He left the rest unsaid.

Ancel grunted in frustration.

While he scratched at his scalp, Mirza studied the map, puckering his lips several times. “How many shadelings are we talking?”

“A dozen banes at least, possibly twice that,” Ryne said.

Mirza whistled. “So, somewhere in the region of sixty to a hundred and twenty thousand. Crowded in that space they would be near impossible to avoid.”

“Exactly,” Ancel said.

“Even if you managed to find a way to travel fast enough you’d need a distraction.” Mirza tapped the unnamed mountains. “Preferably from here descending into the Broken Lands, if possible. Makes them visible to the enemy. It needs to be a force large enough that they wouldn’t ignore. When they respond,” he added, tapping the Rotted Forest’s southern region, “you bring your smaller group through here.”

“Hmm, it could work,” Ryne said. “But the generals within Amuni’s Children aren’t stupid. Neither are the archdaemons among the shadelings. They will spot a diversion.”

“Then I need to make it as credible as possible.” Ancel stood and began to pace. “What I lack is a large enough army to help make up for what the Desorin might have already lost.”

Ryne smiled. He knew exactly where to gain assistance. He told them of the battle at Castere. “Your sister should be able to help since I freed up a large portion of her army.”

“I swear the gods love you,” Mirza said to Ancel. “When you need help it appears.”

“It seems that way,” said Ancel, white teeth showing in grin, and then he grew serious. “But you know what Galiana always used to say. ‘When several separate events occur at an opportune or an inopportune time, people call it coincidence.’” Mirza joined in. “‘Coincidence, my students, is nothing more than the birth child of intricate planning.’” They chuckled.

“I miss her,” Mirza said.

“Me too.” Ancel remained quiet a moment before he asked, “So, what do you think?”

“Regardless of coincidence or some plot, you should take advantage of the situation,” Mirza said. “She’s your sister, after all. And Ilumni help us if she’s anything like you.” They both laughed.

“Well,” Ancel said when their mirth subsided, “the main army, hopefully a combination of hers and some we can spare from here, will travel from this port city in Bana.” He indicated Ostere where it sat at the mouth of the River Ost. “They will follow the coast, land here, and should be able to make Kajeta while we keep Amuni’s Children occupied. Those men will be handpicked by you, Mirz. You’ll lead them.”

Excitement shone in Mirza’s eyes. “Finally, something other than waiting.”

“The second, smaller force will be mainly Pathfinders and a few of the best Dagodin. They will go through the Broken Lands like you said, but I’m guessing it will take them days, rather than weeks.”

The declaration caught Ryne off guard. He studied Ancel. He appreciated the plan and how far the two young men had come since he first met them. It could possibly work but for two problems. “I would ask you how you intend to travel through the Broken Lands as fast as you claim if you can’t Materialize there, but if you intended to share it, you would have done so by now. Understand that if you falter in the crossing, the mission fails. Also, the Lost Sea … there’s a reason it earned the name. No ship has sailed those waters and returned. The mists are so thick one cannot see but a few feet in any direction.”

“I’ve read about it,” Ancel said, “and trust me, I have a solution for both. The bigger issue will be Stefan’s approval.”

“One other thing.” Ryne separated various essences, drawing away dust motes, moisture, and other artifacts that clogged the flows of air. Breathing was easy before, but now the cleanliness in the air was like drinking from a fresh spring pool. It was a method he’d learned from the Astocans and Cardians, except the slits on the sides of their necks did it naturally. “Remember that Forge. Teach it to the others. Once created and placed over a person’s nose and mouth it will dispel the poisonous fumes found in the Rotted Forest and the Broken Lands.”

“Father, I understand how you feel, but if I don’t go, I’ll be limiting what I could possibly do to help.” Ancel had been pleading with Stefan for some time now. “Besides, there’s a Chainin in Kajeta. It has to be destroyed before whatever Skadwaz leads this army can use it.”

“Let Ryne take care of this, son. I need you here. Your people need you.” Stefan paced back and forth across the meeting room’s carpeted floor. He stopped. “I lost your mother and Galiana. I won’t lose you also. Not after discovering that your sister and brother are alive.”

“Lord General Dorn,” Jerem interjected. The wispy-haired old man was already in the room when they entered. Ryne still found it hard to believe Jerem was Sol Remus. If not for the man’s aura, he would have challenged Jerem’s claim, but auras did not lie when it came to identity. “I’m afraid your son is right. Nothing good will come of him staying here.”

“Do you understand what you’re asking of me?” Stefan fixed them all with a glare. Most were of the same opinion: they supported Ancel. “Do you even know what it means to lose a child, to lose a family?”