Etchings of Power (Aegis of the Gods) (46 page)

This was not her first time inside a Bastion, but she still found herself muttering prayers to Ilumni and casting glances at the glowing walls around her. Sometimes, the light felt like a great weight upon her, and she would rub her shoulders. The feeling diminished the longer she remained inside the Bastion. She waited to the side as the Herald studied the message map. Every so often, he stopped to stroke his thin, forked beard, which was in odd counterpoint to his cheeks and even rounder bald head.

Created from metal, wood, and stone, the map spanned almost the entire floor. Life-like replicas of the cities and other important locations jutted into the air inches off the stone. They appeared real and solid as if she could reach out and touch them. If she did, her hands would just pass through them. Irmina didn’t need to open her Matersense to see that an intricate Forge created the effect. Like almost everything else within the Bastion, the message map was a
divya.

Lightstones in various colors gave off a sharp gleam, highlighting the major cities in Granadia. Others matched the location of every Bastion along the Vallum as well as those built within Granadia. Lesser lights between the cities moved on their own accord, following Envoys’ movements. Across the entire message system, every map and their stones were designed from the same
divya
. This intricate network never ceased to amaze her.

Irmina made sure to remain a few feet from the map. Heralds took their jobs to heart and considered it blasphemous for anyone not of their own calling to tread upon their work. She’d thought about becoming a Herald once, until her calling showed her another path.

The man continued to study the map, ignoring her presence. Every time he moved, his robes flowed around him and made the sashes appear to swirl all the way to just below his waist. Irmina tapped her foot and coughed.

Herald Bodo looked up from the map. “Ah. Shin Irmina.” He signaled to the two Dagodin standing just inside the door. “Leave us and close the door behind you.” The men bowed and did as asked. Bodo waited a moment with his eyes closed. When he opened them again, he took her in with a wry smile and a twinkle in his silver-blue eyes. “I see you’ve done away with that farce of a Devout uniform. Does Jerem approve or will I be visiting you chained to a wall? I’m sure the old coot must have had a heart attack.”

Irmina smiled. Bodo was one of few she ever heard speak of her master in anything close to affection. Most others simply cowered. “He doesn’t know yet. That’s to be part of my message. I fear the rest isn’t so pleasing.”

“Well, considering if your wearing a Raijin uniform when you haven’t graduated yet is to be considered ‘pleasing’, I cannot imagine what other ill tidings you bear.”

She told Bodo about the little she discovered about Ryne, before she gave him the news of the attack on Ranoda by the shadeling army and Amuni’s Children. Herald Bodo handled it well, nodding and grunting while stroking his forked beard. When she relayed her rescue by Tae and the message the old woman wanted her to deliver to their master, Herald Bodo’s face paled. He paced back and forth across his message map, his robes swishing through the replicas in colorful swirls as if they didn’t exist.

“May Ilumni help us all,” he uttered when she finished.

“I understand shadeling creation shouldn’t be possible in Denestia, and the chance of one among them being as strong as a High Ashishin is daunting for sure. But we should be able to handle this if we act now,” Irmina insisted.

Herald Bodo paused for a moment, listened, shook his head then continued pacing and muttering to himself.

“Bodo?”

“You don’t understand just how dire our situation is, do you?” He stopped pacing for a moment before he began again.

“Actually, I think I do, after all she told me. Why else would she have risked Materialization to get me here so fast?”

The Herald paused again at the mention of Tae’s Materialization Forge. His mutterings grew more pronounced. “You’re the closest we have to this situation. I would risk telling you, but not without our master’s permission. A moment, if you will.” He stepped onto the path built around the map.

Irmina embraced her Matersense. As if a fog lifted before her eyes, all around her came alive with new clarity. The walls of the Bastion thrummed with essences so bright she squinted. On the message map itself, essences matching those that made up the actual cities filled their ethereal counterparts. Mater flowed from point to point like blood running through veins. And Herald Bodo manipulated them all.

The Forging he made was so complex she lost track of the strings of essences in their intricacy. As usual, her own power surged within her, begging for release. Already within the Eye, she ignored it. Control was hers, and she wouldn’t relinquish her hold. The scale of Bodo’s Forging built to incomprehensible proportions. Irmina felt her bonds begin to weaken, and her resolve grew tenuous. Before she could lose control, she cut off her Matersense. Everything faded to a pale, washed out version of what she’d witnessed, and the essences vanished.

Bodo’s ragged gasps made Irmina look toward the man. “What was that all about? Do you need to use that much power for a message?”

“No,” Bodo said, still breathing heavily. “But in order to hide this particular message, it had to be done. No one can see what I sent except Jerem.”

“What now?”

“We wait. His answer—” Bodo paused, his eyes trained on the map. “Ah, permission has been granted.”

Irmina frowned. What could be so important all of this needed to be done?

Bodo paced back and forth again.“Where to start? Where to start?” he said to himself.

Irmina swallowed. “He wants me to get rid of the Raijin uniform doesn't he?”

“Actually, no. He didn't bother with that.”

“He didn't?” Irmina gave a slight shake of her head. Her work entailed the use of many a disguise, but anything above a Devout's garb, from Raijin to Exalted, was expressly forbidden and punishable by a pain penance at the very least.

Bodo stopped pacing. “Ah. What do you know of the Eztezians?”

“History was never my area of expertise, Bodo.”

“Still what do you remember from your schooling.”

Irmina shrugged. “They were the appointed Guardians of Denestia responsible for sealing the gods in the Nether. The very same gods that appointed them. Later, driven insane by their own power, they fought against each other and brought about the Great Divide in which they almost destroyed the world. What do they have to do with anything? They’re long dead.”

Bodo’s eyes twinkled, and he gave her a knowing smile. “Therein is your first mistake. Not all the Eztezians are dead. And they weren’t just the Guardians of Denestia. They were the direct descendants of our so called gods and also their Battleguards.”

Irmina tried to grasp the concept of humans being the gods’ Battleguards. “So you’re telling me every scholar, every book, every school, every story about the Eztezians’ existence are all wrong?”

“Not wrong, but purposefully misguiding. Do you know how the Eztezians sealed the gods?”

“They used some kind of powerful
divyas
. There are no real records of the
divyas’
creation or their names. At least not that I’ve seen.”

“Well yes, but the
divya
were people. The Eztezians themselves were the
divya.”

Irmina stared in disbelief. “How’s that possible?”

“By use of Etchings. Our gods were created in the Nether, out of the bodies of netherlings by the One God. The netherlings—”

“The same netherlings which were later used to help create the first shadelings?”

“Precisely so. And they never forgave the gods for such misuse, for the destruction of millions of their kind to create the armies of the shade. The gods warred among each other using these forces. Until the netherlings decided to rebel. They used their control over Mater in its most primal state to bestow power comparable to the gods unto the Eztezians. Many of the Eztezians themselves had grown weary of the constant war and the destruction of all they’d grown to love about the worlds. So, they allowed the netherlings to Etch this power into their core. On the very strongest of the Eztezians, the Etchings also included the seals. With surprise on their side, they betrayed their forefathers and trapped the gods in the Nether.”

“How do the Etchings work?”

“No one really knows. There’s no record to be found of exactly what they looked like or what they did. All we know are some of the results. Of course, they were those among the netherlings who didn’t agree because they too reaped benefits from the constant death and destruction of the wars.”

“What could one gain from all that death?”

Bodo raised his brows. “Why sela of course. Forged the right way, sela can be a source of near immortality. I know you’re thinking no one can Forge sela. The truth is, it can be done. But in order to reap the rewards, a living being has to die. The more death, the more sela gained. So for the sake of eternal youth, we became fodder. Bred and raised to die.”

Irmina cringed at the idea of being bred like cattle. “Is that what the Tribunal does and others like yourself to live as long as you do?” Maybe Bodo would give her the answer Taeria wouldn’t.

“The Tribunal, yes. Me, no. There are other, safer ways now.”

“Yes. I stumbled upon one,” Irmina admitted, now convinced of what the Eldanhill Council and Setian’s old leaders did. “Using kinai products to feed the masses then leeching Mater from them to halt aging.” She ached to tell someone, anyone, how she knew. The revelation and the side effects of the process had been her parents’ work. They’d died because they believed it was unjust and wished to expose the Tribunal. The Dorns had issued the execution order. Irmina took a deep breath, forcing the sudden wave of heat deep inside the Eye.

“…simple way to put a complex process, but yes, in short that is how it works,” Bodo finished.

Irmina needed to change the subject. “If the Eztezians aren’t dead, what happened to them?”

“They sealed themselves and hid the memory of their locations. But there was one thing they forgot to account for.”

“What?”

“The Chroniclers.”

“The Great Tomes?”

“No. The Chroniclers. The men and women who wrote the Chronicles within the Great Tomes. The lost descendants of Eztezian and netherling couplings. They decided it was their duty to walk the land and record all past, present and futures. They passed their knowledge down inherently. After thousands of years, their offspring became the Matii we are today. The Ashishin, the Namazzi, the Svenzar, the Alzari, the Skadwaz and others who shall remain nameless.”

Irmina frowned. “So what makes the Chroniclers so important?”

“Well, if you could find the descendants of the Chroniclers, then you could find who now holds the histories. In turn, you could find out where the Eztezians are hidden.”

Everything fell into place for Irmina now. “And by perfecting the Bloodline Affinity, whoever it is among Amuni’s Children now has the upper hand in locating the last Eztezians. Kill them, and they break the seals.”

“Precisely so.”

Something still didn’t make sense to her. “But who has enough power to kill an Eztezian. Not even a High Ashishin could. One of the Exalted, maybe?”

Bodo paced once more. “Several Exalted may stand a chance. It’s more likely all this has been put into play by a netherling.”

“Merciful Ilumni,” Irmina whispered. “A netherling, here in Denestia? But that would mean the seals have weakened enough for them to breach the Kassite and pass into any of the Planes of Existence.”

“That, is just the beginning of the horrors that could be unleashed on our world,” Bodo said, his round faced now haggard and grim. “We don't think the seals have weakened to that point yet, but we believe some netherlings have always been here since the sealing. We don't know how to find them, but as of now, we suspect only the weakest creatures can cross the Kassite as it is attuned to stop the strongest threats.

“However, as the seals continue to weaken, not only will stronger shadelings pass through, but we will face daemons and the Skadwaz themselves. Denestia will fall to a horde of shadelings under their power. Eventually, the seals will be broken, and the gods will come to seek vengeance. So, you see our dilemma. We ourselves need the help of the Eztezians. It’s why Jerem has ordered you to approach this man, Ryne. You need to find a way to have him trust you. Jerem believes this Ryne to be a direct descendant of an Eztezian.”

CHAPTER 37

Ancel shifted his butt around in an attempt to find a more comfortable position in the corner of the old barn, brushing away the offending sprigs of hay that poked at him through his clothes. Kachien, her face a pale imitation of its normal coppery color, lay asleep next to him. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, much better than the shallow breathing she’d suffered from as the night had turned to day and she pointed the way to this abandoned farm and its ramshackle buildings. Now, dusk had come again, but at least this time they’d found shelter. Charra stood guard near the door, his eyes focused out into the night’s encroaching darkness.