“I’ve brought those loyal to me here already. Coupled with the Matii you all possess and the Dosteri’s military, we may succeed striking where they least expect. Plus, it is not as if we intend to hold the Iluminus. Between you,” he turned to nod toward her, “myself, Ryne, and the other High Shin on our side, we can hold it long enough to escape through the Vallum and into the Sands of the Abandoned. From there, we cross the Cogal Drin Mountains and into Benez. Not the plan I had, but it will do.”
Galiana could see how it might work. With support from within the Iluminus, they might manage it after all.
“I’m afraid I will not be accompanying you into Benez,” Ryne said. “I will help as I can with the Iluminus, and no, I will not be there for you either, Ancel. I have faith you will handle what comes until we meet again. I had planned to help my fellow Eztezians at the Great Divide once I took you to safety, but everything I saw within the zyphyl tells me they need me now.”
“Why there?” Jerem asked. “The Skadwaz are massing millions of shadelings northwest of it. Even you and the others would be hard pressed to stop them without help.”
“Because we have no choice, Jerem. It’s either we stop them or the Sanctums of Shelter will fall. As the Sanctums go, so goes the rest of the world, swept under by a black tide before we’ve been able to mount our first real offense.”
Around the room, silence reigned. With so much hanging in the balance, they had to cast aside all doubts. They’d prepared for this for all these years. In ways, it felt good to know the first major battle hovered on the horizon.
“Then, we must plan,” Galiana said, “and be quick about it.”
Ancel sent out for Mirza, and they began to lay down the foundations for what they hoped would be victory.
Chapter 47
Although not fully recovered from his ordeal with the zyphyl, Ancel felt a lot better. Seeing Danvir and Alys again certainly helped. Until he considered the news he had for them.
Danvir had grown larger than when he was in Eldanhill. Not much prettier though. The same old too big ears and nose stood out in his face. Alys, on the other hand, was more beautiful, hair the ochre of sunset, her features fine, an orchid blossoming more lovely than any other bloom.
“We thought you’d never make it here.” Alys smelled of saffron and roses. “Rumors have been spreading that the Ashishin attacked Eldanhill.”
“They did, but we managed to escape, as you see.” Ancel missed the times they once spent together. Overburdening her or Danvir with the details of what occurred in Eldanhill seemed unnecessary.
“What about the others?” Face clean-shaven, and dressed in an immaculate blue coat with white scrollwork down the arms, Danvir made for quite an imposing figure. “My father, Devan, the other council members, the other refugees? I heard that many who abandoned their farms and villages went to Eldanhill. I had cousins among them. Distant ones, but still family.”
This part pained Ancel. He’d chosen to deliver the news to them in person while Galiana’s task was to inform the rest. “Some went to Descane and Old Paltz. I hope your distant cousins might be with them.”
“Where else would they be?” Danvir’s brow puckered.
Ancel sighed. “For whatever reason, it appears that Kachien took the last set of refugees to Randane.”
Alys gasped, bringing a hand to cover her mouth. Danvir’s reaction was a tightening of his jaws and ham-sized fists. His arms looked as if they would burst from the sleeves of his coat.
“I warned you about trusting her.” Danvir’s voice hissed between clenched teeth. “I warned you.”
“You did. But nothing changes what has happened already.”
“What are Galiana and the others planning to do about it?” Alys wrung her hands.
“They have other issues to worry about-”
“Other issues!” Danvir blurted, his face darkening. “What could possibly be more important than our own?”
“Nothing.”
“But you-”
“Dan, you know I wouldn’t leave them to their fate, but we have you and the others here to worry over also. Granadia is no longer safe for any of us. In a few days we’ll be leaving to bring those here to some place safe.”
“There’s no safer place than where we are now, on this side of the Vallum.”
Ancel smiled inwardly. Danvir wasn’t dumb by any means. Never had been. “Maybe that was once true, but with shadelings here, and the Tribunal after us, not to mention the hate the rest of Granadia harbors against the Setian, we have little choice.”
“I am not Setian,” Danvir said. “I was born here.”
“Tell that to any one of the other kingdoms who have already sent threats to King Tozian.”
“Wait.” A frown creased Alys’ forehead. “You don’t mean heading to Ostania, do you?”
“I do.”
“What does my father think about this and the rest of the council?” Danvir asked.
The anger written across Danvir’s face was so raw that Ancel was taken aback. His friend had voiced his displeasure before he left with the others for Torandil, but his loathing of who they were had grown with time. Ancel wondered how many others felt the same way. “The council supported this decision, Dan.”
“I don’t believe you. Where is my father now so I can ask him?”
He had succeeded in avoiding the question once, but Ancel knew he wouldn’t be able to again. All he could picture was the pain and the anger his words would bring. Overcome with emotion he hadn’t realized he’d buried deep inside, he leaned back and closed his eyes against the urge to cry.
“What is it, Anc?” Alys’ fingers touched his, tentative at first, but then gripped him stronger, squeezing. “What’s wrong?”
Fighting hard to keep his expression steady, he met her eyes. “Your father … my father … the rest of the council … gave themselves up to the Tribunal to help us escape.”
“No, no.” Alys’ face contorted; tears streamed down her cheeks.
Danvir stood abruptly, fists quivering. “Tell me this isn’t true, Ancel. Tell me,” he pleaded.
Mouth downturned, all Ancel could manage was to gaze at his friend. Danvir spun on his heels and stalked from the room. Before Ancel uttered another word, Alys ran after Dan, sobbing. When they left, Ryne walked in.
“I guess they didn’t take it well?” Ryne crossed the room, outfitted in his leather armor, one hand on the greatsword at his hip.
Ancel scowled and turned away to gaze out a large window, its open panes stained in red, green, and blue to match the others in the castle’s northernmost tower. The city below was a beehive of activity. Along lanes and avenues, people packed their belongings into wagons and carts. Many, who weren’t natives, lined the docks or made their way to them along the roads and paths carved into the cliff faces that led to the BlueWater Bay. Ships and boats of all sorts congregated on the ocean. Soldiers in Dosteri colors kept order throughout the city, ensuring that the mass exodus did not lead to riots. At the front gates, more folk streamed out than in. Those on horse or in coaches and wagons inched forward. This high up, the crowd noise was more a buzz than the normal chaotic din associated with a city of Torandil’s size. The Guardian Wall and the Quaking Forest were the lone banners flying.
“Some days I wish I could make all this go away,” Ancel said. “The worry, the pain, the anger, the uncertainty, the war, the death to come … the betrayal.” Kachien’s involvement in what was happening cut deep, even if he found it hard to believe. The visions within the zyphyl had shown him other possibilities. Ones that confirmed his suspicions about the way the wolves acted back in Eldanhill. “I wish I could make it all go away.”
Ryne remained silent.
“If wishes had wings,” Ancel said to himself. Cohorts formed ranks on a wide avenue, enough to be at least one full legion, their weapon and armor reflecting the morning sun. He took a deep breath. Alys’ perfume still tickled his nose. “Do you think we have enough to accomplish our plan? And will the others,” he pointed out the window to those already fleeing the city, “the rest of them be safe from any retaliation?”