Aegis of The Gods: Book 00 - The Shadowbearer (24 page)

“I served you faithfully all these years,” Stefan said, his voice a hair above a whisper. “Giving all I had, helping to build a kingdom, protecting the people and your rule. Not once before did I question your need for glory and conquest. I embraced it, took in what you taught me, and made your wishes a part of myself. All I ever asked was a chance to enjoy the fruit of the blood we spilled if the gods should ever bless me to live that long.” He stared longingly at his children. “Now I have that chance, and you not only deprived me of raising my children, but you would take them away from me? Kill them?” The seething inside him bubbled to the surface in a red–hot cauldron. “For a sword?”

“No. Not only a sword,” Nerian said from where he stood at the bottom of the dais. “The power within it.”

“So for a chance at power you would ask me to choose between the weapon and my blood?”

“I was not asking.” Nerian flicked a hand.

Celina made a choking sound. Kicking and thrashing, she rose slowly until she floated several feet above the throne. Her eyes bulged.

“Cel!” Anton yelled, hand outstretched toward his sister. Then he spun on Nerian, his face a mottled mask. Before Anton made another move, he went flying into the throne.

Something tugged at Stefan’s feet. Marble slid up to his ankle then hardened. Any attempt he made to shift was futile.

“Nerian,” Thania yelled.

Stefan snapped his attention back to his wife

Brow bunched together, she stared down the King, hands clenched into fists. Expression strained, Cerny stepped toward her, fist upraised.

One of the wraithwolves next to Thania exploded. Great gouts of blood and flesh splashed not only its counterparts but on her as well, painting the floor and nearby wall crimson.

Cerny’s arm shook. Whatever Forging they were using, they battled mightily against each other.

A second later, Thania’s shoulders sagged and her expression changed to one of shock. She sunk to the floor.

With two mighty roars, the Sven pounded their fists into the floor. Marble and stone boiled up around them. The piled debris shot forward and sent flagstones in a rippling wave toward the King. At the same time, the two Sven leaped.

The wave of earth came to a jarring halt as if slamming into an invisible wall. Before they reached the apex of their jumps, the Sven froze. The air within the throne room grew so cold Stefan’s teeth chattered. Frost, then ice, rippled across the Svens’ giant forms. A moment later, they shattered. A shower of flesh, dirt, and stone fell with their deaths.

Transfixed, Stefan stared in disbelief. To do all he’d accomplished, Nerian would have had to Forge air to lift and bind Celina and create the wall, use light to kill the wraithwolf and Warp the Mater around Thania, reconstitute earth around Stefan’s leg, and use water and ice to destroy the Sven. To be a High Matii, one had to be able to wield two of the three elements. But to Forge essences from all three? Simultaneously? Impossible.

The rattle of Celina as she wheezed and coughed, and Thania’s low keening moan broke him from his thoughts. The smell of fresh blood and the rot of wraithwolf filled the room. As his mind registered the devastation Nerian wrought, Stefan tried to work out a solution. Even if he got close enough, the King would kill him before he could blink.

One possible course remained to ensure his family survived. He decided to take it.

“I–I will release the sword’s bond to you,” Stefan said. “J–Just don’t hurt them anymore.”

“I knew you would come around.” Nerian smiled, but he didn’t venture closer.

In the King’s icy, emerald eyes Stefan saw the truth. When he handed over the sword’s bond, Nerian intended to kill them all.

Stefan took in the tear–streaked faces of his children. Then he looked at his wife, her tattered clothing and bruised body. He opened his Matersense. All around her, Cerny, and the shadelings, the elements were Warped. Tentacles of shade spread from Cerny to the shadelings and to the King.

My wife, my children, the only ones I might ever have, taken from me, denied lives of their own.
With the thought came heaviness in his heart. As sudden as the grief rose, a mounting anger joined it. The heat of his emotions roiled through him. Another, different burning sensation followed.

“Give me the
divya
.”

Nerian’s words sounded far away. All Stefan felt was the inferno now throbbing within him. Scouring his insides, it emanated from his anger and one other point. He closed his eyes and threw his head back as the sensation engulfed him.

The second source of fire, of energy, was the sword. The weapon seemed to beckon to his emotions.

When Stefan opened his eyes, Nerian had taken several steps down the colonnade. The King’s lips moved but Stefan heard nothing. He strained to make out the words against the roar of the power in his ears.

“With the power your sword holds, the world will be mine.” Nerian’s eyes had the mad gleam again as he stared lustily at the
divya
.

In desperation, Stefan gave in to the pull. He added the heat of his rage to the energy emanating from the weapon.

“Do not be afraid,” Nerian coaxed. “All will be well.”

Calm rolled through Stefan as the two blazes joined. “Yes, it will,” he answered. He locked gazes with the King. The Svenzar’s words of forcing Nerian to create an opening came back to him.

Eyes narrowing, Nerian paused.

A tiny concussion from the sword shot up Stefan’s arm. The same as it did the first night in Benez. He recognized how to direct the burst of power now. With a flick of his hand, he sent the energy running through him into the sword and into Nerian’s Forging. Marble melted from around his feet. He raised his leg to step toward the King. In the same instant, he spun and leapt the fifty feet separating him and Cerny.

Time took on a miniscule flow. Cerny’s eyes widened.

Stefan landed next to the General. He plunged his sword hilt deep into the smaller man’s gut and ripped up. Blood spurted, a few drops spattering Stefan’s face. Entrails spilled out along with the stench of fecal matter.

“You wanted to replace me,” the Knight Commander said with a sense of satisfaction. “Well here, take my sword and unhand my wife.” He caught Thania by one arm.

The world sped back up. Cerny crumpled to the floor, blood seeping from his torn torso. The sword protruded from his back, bits of flesh and pulp hanging from its edge.

“What have you—”

The wails from the shadelings cut off Nerian’s words. Stefan made to tear his weapon from Cerny’s corpse, but the wraithwolves and the darkwraiths dashed toward the King.

A loud crash echoed through the room. Stefan spun to the source of the sound at the throne room’s main entrance.

Gouts of fire and light shot down the colonnade. The wind rose in a howl. Through the door stormed at least a dozen High Ashishin. At their head, the air a blur around her fists was Galiana.

“You DARE!” Nerian bellowed. The shield protecting him melted away. He raised his hands.

Stefan prayed he had done enough.

The ground rumbled and the room itself shook. Paintings fell from the walls. Dust, bricks, and mortar dropped from the ceiling.

Between the King and everyone else, the carpeted floor split. Like splintered ice, the crack traveled, as it opened wider until the ground was rent in two. A huge stone hand, covered in tattoos, reached up and grabbed the lip of the chasm. A head followed. Kalvor’s head.

The Svenzar pulled himself out of the hole. Six Sven followed, leaping to the lip of the chasm. The earth closed.

Spanning twenty feet, body covered in his tapestry of writhing tattoos, Kalvor almost reached the ceiling. The creature pointed a massive sword at the King, its shiny surface highlighted by glyphs and runes. “The time has come for your madness to end, Nerian. Our kind was not made to bring suffering but to save the world.”

A confused expression spread across Nerian’s face. He threw both hands up toward the creature. Other than the King’s cloak billowing behind him, nothing happened. His face darkened. “You know nothing, Svenzar,” he yelled. “You shall fall. All of you will. Kahar, kill the children.”

“NO!” Stefan screamed. “I rel—” His words cut off. Something filled his mouth.

Beside him, Galiana appeared.

Nerian roared and the world became a blinding white.

Heat scalded Stefan’s skin. A hand pushed him in the chest. Everything went from white to a stark black. A sensation, as if he fell backwards from a cliff into unfathomable depths, swallowed him.

As he spiraled, his gaze was riveted on Kahar. The bodyguard was standing over Anton with his sword in hand. Blood dripped from its edge.

C
HAPTER 32

S
tefan lurched to a stop. Warm air, too warm for Seti, bright light, and the smell of grass, greeted him. Frowning, he peered around.

A wall rose behind him, spanning several hundred feet into the air. Steel, feldspar, and white alabaster shone with an ethereal glow that lit up the surrounding landscape as if it were daytime instead of night. The Vallum of Light.

Then, like a bucket of freezing water splashed over a man while he slept, the shock of what happened hit him. “No, no … what did you do?” Tears streamed down his face.

“I did what I had to,” Galiana’s voice said from a few steps to his right.

“T–the children … I … I was going to save them.” Unable to hold back, he broke into sobs. “Thania, Celina, Anton … dear Ilumni, why? Why? WHY?” Before he realized, he was on his knees, pounding the ground with his fists.

“I tried,” Galiana said, “but we couldn’t breach his barrier once he erected it again. We only managed to save you and Thania.”

“What?”

“Your wife is over there.”

Stefan’s gaze followed to where she pointed. An Ashishin fussed over his wife, trying to get her into a gold robe. Her bruised face was already mended. He stood on shaky feet and stumbled toward her.

“Thania, love,” he said as she glanced up when he approached.

She scrubbed at her cheeks, her eyes puffy and red. She broke into a wail. “Stefan … the children … they’re …” Thania clutched at the pendant around her neck.

“No, you’re wrong,” Stefan said.

Even as he said the words, he remembered Kahar and his sword dripping with blood. The pendant told the story too. The metal felt incomplete, almost as if a part of him, a part of his soul was missing.

His children were dead.

He took his wife into his arms. Together, they cried.

Several days later, Stefan stood upon the battlements of one of the two Bastions of Light. The tower and its twin looked out over the lone passage through the Vallum here in Felan. His heart ached in ways he never dreamt possible, but his need for revenge was a salve for his pain. Below him, a massive army gathered. The Lightstorm banners flew in too many places to count. A cool wind ruffled his cloak and brought him the scent of perfume.

“If he knew you lived, he would come after you,” Galiana said from behind him.

Stefan didn’t bother to turn. He couldn’t bear to look at her face. “You knew all along he intended to kill them. Why didn’t you get them away from Seti?”

“He would not stop hunting all of you if we did,” Galiana said. “He was not going to harm Thania, but there was no way to stop him. If he forced you to release the sword to him, he could use the same
divya
we command during our age Forging. Only the gods know what he would be capable of then.”

“Do you really think he’ll believe I’m dead?”

“The bodies the Sven left cannot be affected in any way. Not even to sense if they are fakes. The power Nerian released made it impossible to identify them beyond a doubt. The man so believes in his own strength I am willing to bet he will convince himself you died.”

“And the sword?”

“He will believe we have it.”

“How could one man be so strong?” Stefan asked.

“We are unsure if he is simply a man.”

“What is he then? A god?”

“Not likely,” Galiana said.

“How are you so sure? He used the Streams, Flows, and the Forms. All three elements, Galiana, at one time.” Stefan stared down at the army as portals opened to allow in more soldiers, these bearing flags from other Ostanian nations. “He Forged essences from all three elements at once,” he repeated to himself yet again.

“There have been quite a few occurrences of late, of old powers seen only in the greatest days of Materforging,” Galiana said. “The Chronicles predicted this as a herald to a time of darkness. As for being a god, the Svenzar managed to wound Nerian. I do not believe anyone but the Eztezian Guardians or another of their own could hurt one of the gods.”

“Maybe Kalvor was an Eztezian and Nerian a god.” Stefan suggested.

“I doubt that. The seals on the Nether are intact. Besides, the day the gods return is the day the world crumbles or so the Chronicles say. The Tribunal suspects it’s more likely that Nerian is a Skadwaz.”

Stefan shook his head in disbelief. That was just as bad. The Skadwaz had been created with the sole purpose of fighting the Eztezians. “So he isn’t dead then?”

Galiana shook her head. “No. The Svenzar and the High Shin failed.”

“So my children’s lives were wasted.”

“Believe me,” Galiana implored. “We had no other choice.”

“And to think you had my wife go along with this.” Stefan shook his head.

“I have told you and Thania has told you … it was her idea.”

“To sacrifice our children for a sword?”

“Nerian may have twisted words,” Galiana said, “but he did not do so about your sword. The key to our future lies with the
divya
. Would you rather your children be alive and the world destroyed?”

“Yes,” Stefan said. “I would give the world for them.”

“They would still be dead. So I know you do not mean that.”

“Oh, I do. I would give my life and anyone else’s for theirs.”

“That is grief and your love for them talking,” Galiana said. “Regardless, what has happened cannot be changed. You must go on living now.”

Stefan frowned. “Why must I?”

“Nerian will still search for the sword. He will hunt any of the Dorn bloodline for a chance to find someone who can activate its power. The Tribunal plans to lead him on a merry chase fed by rumor, but he will find no more Dorns. You are the last.”

“So?”

“According to the Chronicles, only one of the Dorn line can bring about the sword’s true power. You can use the weapon to some extent, but by now, you should realize you are not the one. Which means you will have at least one more child.”

Stefan’s heart leaped at the propsect, but images of Celina and Anton tempered his brief elation. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m close to the end of my life span.”

“We can extend that,” Galiana said. “Do you remember when I told you of the bargain to secure a future for what was left of the Setian?”

“Yes. You kept something back that day, as you always do.”

“Thania is the key to our age Forging. Of all the Matii we know, only she can combine the essences needed. I should not be the one to tell you this, but in ways she feels she has betrayed you over the years.”

Stefan frowned. “Betrayed me? How?”

“Kinai is the key to the Forge. By having people drink a brew made by her, your wife can then use the
divya
I spoke of to tap into their essences as one pool. She can then give access to that power and with it, the maintenance of youth.”

Now, Stefan understood. Thania had used this Forging on him to add to his youth. She also encouraged him to make his men drink kinai. Not only did they gain strength from the brew, but his wife extended their lives while providing Nerian and the Council with what they needed. Somehow, he was not surprised. But that was not what bothered him the most. “She was the deciding factor in the bargain to save the Setian,” he said. “Without her agreement to give of herself, to use this gift of hers, we would be no more. Not only that, but Nerian needed her also. He was never planning to kill her. Chances are I could have led them from Seti long ago.” The full brunt of what his wife had given stuck Stefan like a hammer blow. Tears trickled down his face. “She stayed to ensure we stopped him.”

“Yes,” Galiana said.

“We failed.”

“Not really. Once we made our agreement with the Tribunal, they revealed they had another
divya
similar to the one we used. We shall set up your new home close by in Granadia.”

“Fine,” Stefan said. The chance to rebuild pulled at him. “After I help defeat Nerian’s armies.”

“I am afraid that cannot be.”

This time, Stefan did turn to face her. He clenched his fists.

“Like I said before, he must never discover that you live.” Galiana stared at him, unflinching. “You can help with strategy in the coming war, but you will play no active part. After Nerian has been defeated, you can do as you wish. Until then the fact you and Thania are alive must remain a secret.”

Self–mastery,
Stefan reminded himself out of habit. He eased his hand away from his sword. He had lost his children, now he was losing a chance for revenge. What other curses did the gods have in store? He turned and continued to watch the army.

The fetid stench of death mixed with sulfuric fumes rose up from the chasm. Howling winds whipped at Kahar’s cloak. Heat spilled across his face where he stood at the edge of the precipice. Not far from him, Nerian stared down into the black depths. Several feet behind the King stood High Shin Clarice.

The Great Divide certainly lived up to its name. It was a gaping rent in the earth, several thousand feet wide and gods only knew how deep, stretching north and south until it disappeared. Vines and massive roots grew from the side nearest them. Jagged stone jutted out here and there. The occasional bleached bones were the only color that broke up the monotony of darkness.

Today, Nerian wore a simple shirt and trousers. He had the sleeves rolled up to expose the intricate tattoos twining about his arms. His hand rested on a scabbard at his hip, in which was a massive greatsword. The weapon suited his eight–foot frame. Runes and glyphs covered the hilt.

“It is time,” a musical voice said from behind them.

The Svenzar from the Royal Palace stepped up beside them, its twenty–foot stoneform now reduced to about half its size. In the throne room, the creature had not attempted to stop Kahar from killing the children. However, it had blocked Nerian’s power from scouring everyone else in the room. An odd thing that. The Svenzar had also provided Nerian with the sword. Stranger still.

All this time, they had followed the Chronicles, believing the key they needed was the one Stefan now held. But this Svenzar, no, this Eztezian Guardian, the beings created by Kahar’s own brethren to defeat the gods, had shown them differently. According to the Svenzar, the sword was the one Nerian sought.

Kahar harbored no doubts the creature was right. The Eztezians themselves wrote the Chronicles. In his endeavors here in this realm, he never expected to garner help from one of the ancient Guardians without having to manipulate them as he had Nerian. To his surprise, the Svenzar had offered its help willingly. The assistance made Kahar wary.

After a deep breath, Nerian unsheathed the sword. He held the
divya
out before him where the sunlight glinted off its surface. Then he leaped off the precipice.

Kahar kept his gaze fixed on the King until the blackness devoured him. Moments, later there was a flash of light and a hollow boom. Essences spilled up from the hole in a thick bar, their power buffeting Kahar. They shot up into the air, turning the blue sky dark.

The essences were of the purest shade.

Below, Kahar noted movement like some disturbed nest of ants or bees.

Shadelings.

Thousands of them. Tens of thousands. Nerian had broken whatever seal had trapped them within the Great Divide.

A flash of shade and light shot up the chasm and landed several hundred feet from Kahar. Energy essences hummed as the mixture resolved into the King. He flicked his hand out and all along the edge of the chasm portals of Materialization opened. Wraithwolves and darkwriaths crawled up from the Great Divide’s lip and massed before them. Through the portals’ hazy surfaces, a battle between Erastonians and Stefan’s forces played out.