Galiana stood near the cave mouth holding a lightstone. “Don’t worry, I made sure to hide the entrance with a Forging. No one can see the light.”
In one of the corners were several stacks of branches. Mirza was already gathering them.
“You can set him down now.” Galiana nodded to Ryne.
Ancel looked down. Ryne was still holding onto his arm. His face carried a slight blue tinge similar to the day they first encountered him. Ryne’s eyes were closed but his breathing was steady. Ancel pried his fingers loose. At the same time, he released the Eye and his hold on his Etchings.
The room spun and blackness took him.
Chapter 27
Sometimes the snow fell so heavily it blotted out the surroundings, but as the flakes touched the ground, the blood of the fallen painted it red. Moans of the dying, wails of the mourning, screeches of the bloodthirsty, and the gurgles of death washed through the air upon the howling wind. Mangled armor and torn bodies lay strewn as far as the eye could see as if flung by a massive storm.
There had been a storm, Sakari thought. A storm of death.
His shadeling army boiled black across the land tearing into the Dagodin ranks.
And shattered.
Garbed in armor to match the bloody snow, the Tribunal’s soldiers held fast. Their shield wall dropped with the precision of a hundred thousand dancers synchronized to one song. A symphony of steel played. Shadelings died.
Several hundred beasts Blurred up and over the shield wall. Bolts of fire and lightning met them. The concussions from both should have rocked the Dagodin formations below the shadelings, but the Shins had formed a layered barrier to protect them. Dark blood spattered upon its surface. Bodies landed, appearing as if they were suspended in the air above the enemy’s ranks.
As for his vasumbrals, the writhing, worm-like monstrosities churned underground before boring up and out. Earth and snow crashed into any nearby soldiers, flinging them from their feet or crushing them. Maws agape the beasts snatched men by threes or fours, their black bodies bulging as they swallowed. Foolhardy Shins attacked them with any manner of Forge, from icy spikes able to skewer a man in half, to searing fire waves or bolts crackling with energy. Unaffected, the vasumbrals wreaked havoc, absorbing as many Forges as they could, growing stronger, maturing.
But not fast enough. Not against this army.
The telltale hiss that imitated a giant sword slicing the wind rose over the din of battle. Those weren’t any blades. More portals were opening to allow the Tribunal’s Matii in-Dagodin, Shin, High Shin, and Raijin by the thousands.
Mater surged moments later. A swath of light cut through a shadebane, decimating its number by half. The daemons threw up their own shield too late, barely saving a few of their number.
With the Exalted and the Raijin joining the fray, he knew he needed to call a retreat. This wasn’t the time or the place to war against them. Not unprepared. Not without the Skadwaz and not with immature vasumbrals. Besides, Ryne and his ward had fled. Of that, he was sure.
He considered breaching the shield over the town and taking the young man’s father and the woman, Irmina. He sensed her presence there and knew the council was still within Eldanhill’s confines. Acquiring either would not break the accords as they had both attacked him directly. However, destroying the shield would expose the rest of Eldanhill. That would violate the agreement.
So much had transpired as he hoped, as his master decreed, but so much had gone wrong. Ever since Benez, he and Thanarien had searched for years to find the Dorns, all to no avail. Rumors spread like snow from the heavens, each one dissolving when they grew warm. Someone had used his master’s own methods against them, spreading lies as if they were the truth, subtly changing fact into myth and myth into fact.
Now, he’d failed by no fault of his own, or at least it would appear that way to Kahkon. The accords had always been a hindrance, but the Eztezians forced it upon the Nine as reassurance before accepting the Etchings. As much as it seemed that he had wanted to fulfill the orders to kill Thanarien, they prevented him and any other netherling from doing so. He could not help his smile. A useless habit he’d picked up from humanity, but he smiled nonetheless. The pact was of no consequence now though, not as far as Thanarien was concerned. His old master had broken that protection himself.
A chance still remained to trap Thanarien and his ward, but he doubted anyone else knew the location of the nearest Entosis. If they did, then Charra would need to lend a hand. He knew he needed to tread carefully now. His job was a precarious undertaking. Hopefully, he’d bought enough time.
After surveying the remnants of the battle once more, he decided it was time to withdraw. He nodded to the ebony, glossy-winged form of the archdaemon, its color tinged with deep blue, and watched as it concentrated, fixing its mind along the link with all its brethren.
As he turned away, Sakari waved a hand and several portals appeared, their blackness blotting out the land behind them. He stepped through. The portals would be left open long enough for the vasumbrals and the daemons. Whatever shadelings made it back through would be a plus. The rest he would abandon to wreak havoc and keep the Tribunal occupied for a while.
He had a homecoming to prepare.
Chapter 28
On one knee, head bowed, Irmina waited for the Exalted. The stillness of the room needled at her, making her want to stand, move around, anything to dispel her apprehension. The marble floor of the Mystera’s main audience hall was cold even through her leather armor. Dagodin and Ashishin had escorted Stefan and the other council members to another building. Full-throated screams echoed from that direction, rising above the howling gale outside. She flinched with each painful wail.
When the door opened, five people strode into the room, chilly air and swirls of snow accompanying them. If not for the softness of the three females’ features, the difference in sex would have been impossible to tell, especially with their matching, pristine white robes. Colors shimmered from their sleeves as if a living rainbow inhabited them. As she noticed within their room at the Iluminus, the reek of festering flesh wafted from the Exalted. Throat constricting, Irmina swallowed against a sudden lump.
The Exalted’s heads were bald and speckled like eggs. But where an egg would be smooth, their skin reminded her of old, pale leather. It was wrinkled and dry, loose in spots, pulling at the edges in some areas, while tight and shiny in others. Not a single pair of eyes among them contained an iris and instead appeared to be radiant, golden pools. The hands exposed by the openings of their long sleeves bore the same splotches as their faces and heads and were just as sickly and emaciated. Irmina always thought of Jerem as old, maybe ancient. When she gazed upon the Exalted, one word came to mind.
Eternal.
“Stand.” Their voices were one.
She obeyed.
“What is the meaning of this, Raijin Irmina?” The voice was the disembodied one she remembered from the Iluminus.
Irmina tried to discern who spoke but not a single pair of lips moved.
“You were ordered to kill this Ryne, whoever he was linked with, and the council.”
“You did none of this but still saw fit to call on us,” said the voice that dripped like water.
“You failed,” said musical tones.
“Yet you dared summons usss,” hissed steam from liquid poured over hot coals
“Punishment,” Thunder rumbled.
The voices rose around her, their doubts repeated, their threats maintained. They came from so many directions her head spun. If there had been a wall close by, she would have leaned on it to steady herself. Instead, she did the one thing she could think of; she allowed herself to delve into the Eye. Almost instantly, a sense of calm settled over her.