The Black Shriving (Chronicles of the Black Gate Book 2) (59 page)

An image of Asho's face arose in her mind: his silver-green eyes, his white hair, how he had looked so alien and lethal as he fought the four-limbed demon up in the passes. He'd saved her life numerous times now. They were bound together. When their connection flared to life, when she felt herself draining his magic of its sin, it felt so right, so good. So what if he was a Bythian? It was petty to hold that against him.

She thought of Asho's eyes again. Silver-green. Beautiful, really. Almost like a firecat's.

Footsteps sounded behind her at the gatehouse and she turned, half-expecting to see Asho, but instead saw Ser Wyland emerge in full armor, Brocuff a step behind him leading a mule. Four of the guards and a number of servants brought up the rear.

She rose to her feet. "Heading down to Hrething?"

Ser Wyland lifted his visor, and his expression gave her pause. He looked weary and pale, his eyes glittering and hard. "We're leaving, Kethe."

"Leaving?" She smiled uncertainly and walked up to them, wishing that her hair wasn't down. "What do you mean?"

He looked past her, out over the lake. "I spent the night in prayer. I sought guidance from the Ascendant. In my heart I've known what your mother is doing is wrong, but I thought I could find a way to remain loyal. I realized last night that I couldn't. The constable and the others agree with me."

"You're abandoning us?" Kethe felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "But - no!"

Asho strode out of the gate, Elon by his side, the Hrethings and remaining servants behind them. Ser Wyland turned to regard them, expression hard, then looked once more to Kethe.

"Yes. My loyalty as a knight is first and foremost to the Ascendant. Your mother seeks an alliance with heretics who are intent on destroying the empire. When this was a matter of lord versus lord, I had no qualms. But to raise my sword against my own religion? That, I have decided, I cannot do."

Asho looked stunned.

Kethe didn't know what to say. "Jander, you're abandoning us? Now? With the Black Shriving upon us?"

"I am not abandoning you. It is all of you who have abandoned your faith." Instead of anger, Ser Wyland spoke with weary compassion. "I don't expect you to understand, Kethe, given your blind loyalty to your mother. But know this: there is no sense in dying for a cause you know to be abhorrent. Iskra would give the heretics Gate Stone – the very people who destroyed their Solar Gate. What will they destroy next, if given the chance? How many will die? I should have walked away the moment your mother announced her intention to ally with the Agerastians, but my fondness for her and all of you made me weak. But I cannot continue down this road." He paused. "You are welcome to come with me, Kethe. You are touched by holiness. You have it within you to be a Virtue. Don't squander that blessing. Come with me. I'll take you to Aletheia."

"No, Ser Wyland." She fought to prevent herself from shaking. Her thoughts were roiling, but she clamped down on them and composed her face so that she was gazing upon his group with icy composure. "Up in the mountains, I told Asho that he was no true knight. That my father would never have recognized him as such. But I was wrong."

Ser Wyland's expression settled into a stolid look of weary patience.

"My father was not afraid to break with convention so as to do the right thing. I know he was a - a monster, in many ways, a horrible, brutal man. But he was also brave. He let nothing stop him from doing what he wished. From what he decided was right. He brought Asho out of Bythos to repay a debt, and tradition and Ascension be damned." Kethe's words were flowing white hot. "Do you think he would abandon his post now if he were here? That he would spout sanctimonious words and run with his tail between his legs?"

Ser Wyland's expression paled with anger. "You accuse me of cowardice?"

"Yes," said Kethe, taking a step forward. "Moral cowardice. And now that I think of it, you've always been a coward. You've always hidden behind Ascension, never taken personal responsibility for yourself."

Ser Wyland drew himself up, brow lowering in fury. "You don't have -"

"When women were being raped before you, did you intervene?" Kethe's words were a whip crack.

"It was not -"

"When the Black Wolves slaughtered innocent peasants to injure a rival lord, did you hold back your blade?"

"You cannot understand -"

Her fury was such that white fire began to flicker over her skin.

Ser Wyland's eyes widened and he stepped back.

"You were never a true knight, Jander. You were and still are only a Black Wolf. A hypocrite who cared only for your privileges as an Ennoian."

Ser Wyland's jaw clenched and he dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword. Immediately Asho did the same and stepped up beside her. Kethe saw with a start that it was the black blade, and that ebon flames were burning around its hilt.

"I don't care what you think," said Ser Wyland, voice harsh. "The Ascendant decreed the purpose of knighthood, and it is that decree I follow: to safeguard the truths of Ascension, to protect the religion in times of need, and to give no aid to its enemies. Well. I see now at last that you are my enemies indeed. That you care nothing for Ascension, for the succor of our souls. So damn you. Damn you all. And if I see you again, I shall treat you as I would the most depraved Agerastian heretic: as my mortal enemy."

Asho stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, his whole frame still shaking with emotion. "You once told me that all evil and lazy men have excuses for their actions. That the sign of a true knight was his disdain for excuses. That he takes full responsibility for himself."

Ser Wyland clearly wanted to leave, but he paused, eyes slitted as he stared at Asho.

"I see it now. Your excuse for your actions has always been Ascension. You have justified everything by claiming righteousness. Even now, you abandon the field of battle when demons are about to fall on us -
demons
- and claim that it is Ascension that excuses your cowardice." Asho's voice rang out, holding everyone riveted. "I thought before that it was the Ascendant's Grace and his Virtues that were corrupt, but now I see that it is the very system of belief on which we have based our lives. Ascension is corrupt. Ascension is wrong, and you are no true knight. You are a coward that blames his failures on a religion that blesses his sins."

Ser Wyland rocked back on his heels as if struck. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, and Kethe could have sworn he was about to draw his sword. She was ready. Her own hand rested lightly on her hilt.

For an aching eternity Ser Wyland stared at Asho, hatred in his eyes. "I won't argue Ascension with a Bythian." And he spat on the ground and strode away.

Kethe looked at the rest of his small group. "Thank you for your service, all of you. That you followed my mother through the Raven's Gate and have served her well to this point will never be forgotten. You are, of course, free to go. Goodbye."

"Kethe," said Brocuff, his voice rough with emotion, but then he hung his head and led the others after Ser Wyland.

They all watched as the group followed Ser Wyland out onto the causeway and marched away. The Hrethings, Elon, Asho, and their sole remaining guard. A handful of servants stood behind them. Their faces were pale, and she could read the doubt in their expressions, their fear. One by one they all looked to her, and Kethe realized that she had no time to process this betrayal, no time to gather her thoughts. The moment to speak to them was now.

But what was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to lift their spirits? She felt bleak, utterly devoid of hope. How was she to lie to them?

"Ser Wyland felt that my mother's alliance with the Agerastians was a betrayal of his faith. He said that they are heretics, that they seek to destroy the empire, and that it is therefore wrong to give them Gate Stone." She paused. Asho's face was inscrutable, though she thought she could see a deep anger lurking in the depths of his eyes. "His true loyalty is to the Ascendant Empire. To all that it represents."

Her throat closed up. She was losing the moment. Tears welled up in her eyes. "My father," she said, voice overloud. Then she lowered her chin, swallowed, and said more softly, "My father was a man much esteemed by the empire. Lord Enderl Kyferin. He led Ser Wyland and the Black Wolves in battle too many times to count. I've heard since leaving Kyferin Castle what my father did – but I suspect I've heard only a very small part of it. He raped. He murdered. He caused wars. And he was thought to be the epitome of an Ennoian warlord." Her voice was shaking, so she paused and swallowed again. A great emotion was welling up within her. She couldn't grasp it, but it drove her on, bringing forth her words.

"The Ascendant's Grace has backed my uncle in his theft of my birthright and the abduction of my brother. The Grace sent a Virtue to murder us here, expecting no resistance, just bloodshed, just slaughter. This wasn't just Lord Laur. This was the Grace himself."

There were nods now, grim and angry.

"Asho saw the Grace turn away from death. Saw him mortally wounded, on the verge of Ascension, and saw him instead take magical healing so as to hold on to this life." She felt her shock slowly turning to fury. "Is that righteous? Is that true? No, that is cowardice. That is spitting in the face of everything we are supposed to believe."

Again, she paused. She had their attention. Kethe waited for the words to come, the next thought. This was no musical flow of words; these were hammer blows of the kind that drove in coffin nails. "There is a second Black Gate up in those mountains. I have seen it with my own eyes. It hangs in the air and turns and spits forth black lighting, and demons come through its center. Does Ascendancy account for its existence? No; Ascendancy forgot about it. What else may Ascendancy have forgotten? Gotten wrong?"

Her gaze locked on Asho. "We have one knight who still stands with us. Asho, a Bythian. The people we have always been told are little better than animals. Yet, has anyone fought harder or more bravely than he has to do what is right? He is no animal. He is no slave. And if he isn't, then how can we treat any Bythian in this manner?"

She felt the ground fracturing beneath her feet, her thoughts leading her into truly dangerous territory. Anger, however, spurred her on. "What else has Ascendancy gotten wrong? Ascendancy calls Asho's magic 'Sin Casting' and claims that he is evil, but I tell you that when I channel the power of the White Gate, when I feel that divine touch, I am completed by my connection to his magic, to his 'sin'. I don't know what that means, I don't know how it works, but I
do
know that he is not evil and that what we do is not wrong."

She didn't know if she was convincing them or not, but she almost didn't care. "So, I say this. Damn Ser Wyland and his twisted morals and his fine scruples that allow him to watch women be raped but won't let him fight demons. Damn him and the Ascendant's Grace and Lord Laur and every Virtue that would come down here to murder us. Damn the Ennoian warlords that butcher simply because it's their spiritual right, and damn every man and woman who would treat a Bythian as a slave. Damn them all, and damn the religion that sanctions it all! I'm going to follow my mother's lead, wherever she takes us. I'm going to save my brother. I'm going to kill each and every demon that tries to get through these walls, and if I die trying, then fine. I'll die. But I won't die a hypocrite."

The Hrethings and Ennoians simply stared at her, wide-eyed. Kethe felt overcome with emotion, with fury and fear and a sudden sense of vulnerability and despair. Rather than stand there, she turned and strode away, back down to the island shore and then followed it till the Hold's walls hid the small group from her sight. She was trembling as she watched Ser Wyland's party make its way around the lake. She wished he was back here so that she could repeat what she'd said to his sanctimonious face. The bastard. The bastard!

Asho stepped up beside her. She glanced quickly at him, then looked down and wiped away her tears. He stood with his arms crossed, his face drawn, his mouth a hard line, staring out at Ser Wyland. Kethe inhaled deeply and waited for him to say something.

Instead, she felt him reach out to her, opening up their channel. She accepted, and with a sudden rush his eyes blanked out into white flame and an aura of black fire flickered around him, insubstantial as shadow but whipping back and forth as if lashed by a furious gale. Kethe breathed deep, and when she exhaled, white fire engulfed her.

Asho looked at her then, and she felt a shock run through her, a sense of recognition, of affirmation. He extended his hand to her, palm out, and she pressed her own against his. Immediately their flames flickered and rose high, coruscating and sending off a shower of sparks. His face remained grave throughout. Then he turned fully toward her and they touched both of their palms together.

Magic flowed through them with terrible force and intensity, perfectly channeled and thrilling. Her heart was pounding as the world poured into him and then through to her and then was drained out of existence. For how long they stood like that, eyes locked, she didn't know. Eventually they both stepped back, hands falling to their sides, their power ebbing away but leaving her almost painfully aware of his physicality and presence.

"Asho, what are we going to do?"

Asho sighed and turned back to the Hold. "Just what you said."