Etchings of Power (Aegis of the Gods) (52 page)

He whistled and his dartan trotted out from amongst the trees to him. The blue and green creature stood several hands taller than Misty. The lightstone dimmed, its Mater waning.

“How did you manage that?” She pointed at the ten corpses.

He shrugged. “I was faster than them.”

She eyed his massive frame, but a picture of him moving with the speed needed to kill ten men in a straight fight wouldn’t form. Sure, she’d seen him run across the Orchid Plains, but such speed was nothing compared to what would be needed to kill these men. Sakari must have helped. Or maybe Ryne was an Ashishin. But that didn’t make sense either. She wouldn’t be here if he was one of the Tribunal’s Matii.

“Didn’t Varick tell you I might kill you if you came close to me without my permission?” Ryne’s cold, emerald eyes shone with the moonlight.

“Your bodyguard just told me to come to you.” She eased her hand to her sword.

“I would not do that. My master does not like threats.” Sakari’s voice and eyes were lifeless pools.

“Yes. He did ask you to come to me, didn’t he?” Ryne’s white teeth showed in a humorless smile. “You’ve followed me all the way from Carnas to here. Tell me, Mariel, are you an Ashishin?”

For a moment, she considered lying to him. But his mention of Varick bothered her. Had he told Ryne her identity? Ryne’s head cocked to one side as he waited, but neither his eyes or his relaxed posture gave away anything.

“Yes,” Irmina replied. “I am Ashishin Irmina Nagel.”

Ryne’s eyes became cold pits of ice. “Good. If you’d lied to me, I would’ve killed you for sure. Now it seems as if you do have some sense in you. I wondered if you did when you decided to chase after ten Alzari in the employ of Amuni’s Children.” His eyes drifted to the corpses.

Irmina beat back the urge to suck in a breath, giving the bodies a level look instead. “I thought they were simple bandits. Besides I couldn’t sit by and let them kill you.”

Ryne shook with his sudden chuckle. “Even if it cost you your life?”

“Yes.”

His eyebrows rose steeply at her reply. He turned to his mount and reached into his bags. For the first time, she noticed the firewood near Ryne’s feet as his hand came away from his bags holding flint and tinder. He tossed them to Sakari.

Within moments, a fire roared a few feet from them. Deep eyes glittering with the flickering flames, Ryne regarded her with a bemused expression. The grunting barks sounded again, this time form several directions. He gazed up the slope. Why did those barks sound so familiar to her?

“You should dismount,” Ryne said, his tone neither a command or a request, but a voice that expected to be obeyed nonetheless.

She frowned at him. “Why? Around you I feel a lot safer mounted.”

“Sometimes you should just do as you’re told. It can save your life.” Ryne swept away the remainder of the broken weapons with his foot before he made his way to the fire with effortless grace, his muscles rippling under his armor with his motions. The movement enhanced his tattoos and the artwork on his armor, and she found it difficult to tell where the pictures on the armor ended and the tattoos on his arms began. The two were seamless. Even the orange reflection cast by the flames failed to diminish the rich colors.

She dismounted and trilled twice to Misty. Her dartan drifted next to his, and they mewled at each other and touched necks. She noticed Ryne’s smile at the two mounts.

That one tender look somehow gave her a degree of trust, however small. Irmina took a couple steps closer to where he sat next to the fire’s warmth. A sweet, musky smell drifted from the man. Even sitting he was almost as tall as her. Never before had she stood next to someone this large. He was neither handsome nor ugly. Except for his scars, his face appeared rather normal, nothing that would stand out in a crowd other than the size.

Ryne reached a hand out close to her and Misty warbled. Irmina took a step back. Ryne picked up a few fragments from the broken
divya
and tossed them aside.

“It’s fine, girl,” Irmina said, and made four short trills. Misty settled down.

“You can speak to her?” Ryne frowned and glanced at Sakari.

“After a fashion. I’ve trained with them all my life. I guess it just comes naturally.” She had no intention of telling him about her ability to commune with beasts.

Across from her, Sakari stared her down, eyes flat. She sat where she could keep an eye on them both.

“So,” Ryne began, his tone casual. “I’ll be honest with you. If you lie about anything I ask, I
will
kill you.”

Irmina stiffened, but nodded.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Besides that you’re called Ryne? No.”

“Well that makes two of us.” Ryne gave a wry smile. “Why have you been following me?”

“I was given orders to find you and return with you to my master.”

Ryne snorted. “You said master. You mean the Tribunal?”

“No. I don’t work for them.”

Ryne’s brows drew together. “But you’re an Ashishin. All of you belong to the Tribunal.”

“In a sense, that’s true but not all of us work toward the Tribunal’s cause. Some Ashishin take individual masters within the Tribunal. A well-known practice. This way, we retain some semblance of freedom.”

“Ah,” Ryne said. “So your master works for the Tribunal then.”

Irmina shrugged. “When their needs suit his, I suppose. I’ve seen many times where he does things contrary to what they wish.”

“So what’s your master’s interest in me?”

Irmina held Ryne’s gaze as she spoke, trying her hardest not to flinch or look away while at the same time maintaining a neutral tone to match his. “He believes you’re a key to our future. To surviving what is to come. He says he knows who you are. More to the point, what you are. He says he has the answers you seek.”

Ryne’s eyes twitched with her last words, a spark shining deep in his emerald eyes, but then in the next instant, it was gone. “That’s the second time in a few days I’ve heard that. Strange considering it’s been seventy years with no one having a clue. Regardless, you’ll have to give me more than that if I’m to follow you. Tell me, Irmina. Did you have anything to do with what happened at Carnas? With the Alzari?”

Irmina’s brow furrowed.
What was the man talking about?
“No. I sent a warning to Bertram about the infected lapra. And I knew nothing of these Alzari until the one I met in the Mondros who spoke to you. This Jaecar—” Memories of what occurred rose from where she’d blocked them off, freezing her where she stood. Ryne had befriended the man in the Mondros. Could he be a part of this advance of Amuni’s Children? Everything had happened so fast, she’d forgotten about Ryne’s connection to Jaecar. Her hand edged to her sword.

Sakari’s iron grip on her hand stopped her. She flexed against his hold, but his fingers never budged. She met his gaze, and he shook his head. He didn’t release his hold even after she relaxed.

Ryne regarded her with narrowed eyes, his back stiff. His deep voice was steel. “What do you mean you sent a message to Bertram about the lapra?”

Irmina chose her words with care. “I sent Kahkon to tell him I’d seen the infected lapra. To keep his people away from the forest. I also sent a warning about a golden-haired woman I saw. She was always near where they would find those bodies.” The confusion on Ryne’s face registered with her. “Bertram didn’t tell anyone?”

Staring off at something distant, Ryne shook his head.

The night air hung heavy and again the grunting bark sounded. This time closer. Irmina wiped the sweat from her forehead with her other hand.

Finally, Ryne spoke. “You mentioned Jaecar. What did you do with him?”

At the mention of the man’s name, the attack in the office came roaring back. Irmina squeezed her eyes shut for brief moment and took a long breath. “N-Nothing.” She opened her eyes and steadied her shaking voice. “Although I wish I had. He tried to kill me in Ranoda. He brought an army of shadelings and Amuni’s Children down onto the town.”

Ryne was shaking his head, brows drawn together in a lumpy frown. “I saw no ill aura around him except—. His aura was as normal as—.”

She gasped as his hard fingers engulfed her arm, replacing Sakari’s, and snatched her to her feet. She hadn’t seen him or Sakari move.

Misty warbled a warning.

The grunting barks came again from multiple locations almost on top of them—too many to count. Irmina’s eyes narrowed. She recognized those noises.

Ancel’s daggerpaw made the same sound when he hunted.

“Pay attention, woman.” Ryne’s eyes bored into hers as he held her by one arm. “They’re here. Don’t do anything. Don’t even speak.

CHAPTER 42

Ryne’s fingers were coiled into a steel bracelet of tight control that dwarfed Irmina’s arm. The woman’s golden-brown eyes flashed, but she said nothing. After a moment, he released his grip Wincing, she rubbed at her arm.

The realization Bertram was somehow involved in the attack on Carnas had rocked him to his core. The mayor’s aura had appeared so perfect to him—same as it had been around Jaecar—except for those few times that he’d attributed the slight shift as a trick of the light or an emotional reaction. How could the man have hidden his intentions for so long? All the smiles, the banter, the annoying yet welcome arguments. Had Bertram really taken his hate for the Tribunal to such a level he doomed Carnas in the process? Ryne balled his hand into a fist and focused on the present danger.

Atop the hills, scores of daggerpaws appeared. Soon after, men in dark armor rose beside the beasts as if they grew from of the earth.

Battle energy thrummed through Ryne’s body. “Remember, do not move or speak.”

More men riding horses or dartans crested the hill in front of him. Two dartan riders guided their mounts down into the hollow while the others stayed at the top. There had to be over a hundred of them by now. Upon reaching the clearing’s edge, the two dismounted.

Full helmets made from hard leather, dyed green, hid their faces. Silver rivets covered the interlocking leather plates giving the helms a layered effect. Only their eyes showed between six thin straps connecting the helm to the faceguard. They were equipped as well as any soldier in Varick’s army, with deep green chestpieces and spaulders. Spiked bracers adorned their arms and fists. Cuisses at their thighs covered kilts that looked more like an apron, and under the kilts, leggings showed, all made from the same hardened leather in layered plates. Their soft leather boots made little noise against the clearing’s black stone and sandy shale. Short, double-bladed axes hung from hasps at each hip.

Both men pulled off their helmets. The taller of the two reached Ryne’s shoulder. He was a young man with an angular jaw, squared chin and a black braid wrapped in a small bun. He shook his head and the braid fell down his back. Hard, golden eyes studied Ryne. His aura writhed about him with a strength few possessed. Something about the man’s face seemed familiar.

The other man had long, white hair done in numerous, small, intricate braids. Unlike the young man’s smooth features, scars marred this man’s face on both sides before they disappeared under the leather at his neck. His left side lacked an ear. On the same side, his eye proved nothing more than a closed lid. The old man gazed at Ryne without blinking. The man’s single golden eye with its few silver flecks reflected the flames.

Ryne knew that eye, and the smooth aura, even if it was sixty years later. Tension eased from his shoulders.

The old man smiled. “Ryne Waldron, the Lightbringer. If I hadn’t seen you with mine own eyes, or is that eye?” He chuckled. “I wouldn’t have believed.” His voice came in slow, raspy gasps, stretching into a hiss at every pause. Not like Ryne remembered. “So I left relative safety to see for myself. And here you are, looking as if you haven’t aged a day since you saved my people.”

“Edsel Stonewilled,” Ryne said with a shake of his head and a smile, his battle energy seeping from him.

“Yes, my old friend.” Edsel pointed at the young man. “This is my son, Garon. I’ve told him more times than I can count he wouldn’t exist without you.” He gestured around the hilltops. “None of us would.”

Garon bowed. “May Ilumni’s and Humelen’s blessings always shine on you, Lightbringer, for what you’ve done for the Setian.” His deep, strong voice emphasized the reverence etched in his words.

Irmina gasped, and they all looked to her. The Ashishin’s hand edged toward her sword. Garon’s eyes narrowed. Ryne shook his head, and her hand stilled, but her face still creased with worry.

Breathing easier, Ryne shifted his attention back to Garon. “Please, just call me Ryne. I told your father the same thing sixty years ago.”

Edsel nodded toward Sakari. “I see you still travel with the silent one.” He turned his head and his good eye to Irmina. “Who is the young Beastsinger?”

“Irmina, Irmina Nagel,” she answered before Ryne could reply.

Ryne grimaced.

Edsel circled her. Every step included a small limp. “What’s your business here Nagel Beastsinger? My son has watched you following the Lightbringer. He also saw you Forge. By your skin and eyes, you’re a Granadian Ashishin. Did you know this, Ryne?”