Other books dealt with military strategy and instruction on the Disciplines of Soldiering. Those included fighting styles, relaying stories of warriors who could summon massive Constructs to do battle for them or lose themselves, battle-bonded within the clarity of the Shunyata, undefeatable. Some contained myths and legends of peoples and creatures long lost-the Eztezians, the Erastonians, the Chroniclers, the netherlings and many more. But within every myth there was some semblance of truth to be found. Others gave detailed recounts of Denestia’s split into Ostania to the east and Granadia to the west. He always believed if you had to read, then make certain you gained practical knowledge.
Ryne took off his sword and leaned the white scabbard with its gold rune embossing next to the bookshelf. A series of white glyphs were etched into the guard and long golden hilt. He straightened to see Vera bring him a plate piled with venison stew. The peppery smell from the meat and the scent from the baked bread in her other hand made his stomach grumble.
“You know you can’t eat with those on, right?” Vera pointed to his leather armor. “Well, not that you can’t eat,” she corrected herself, “But we won’t serve you until you remove it and show us you didn’t get hurt earlier today.”
“Sometimes I forget myself, Miss Vera.” Her raised brow at his lie brought a smile to his lips.
The two-piece armor always felt loose at first, but once he pulled them on, they melded to his body, as if tailored just for him. If he didn’t know the power of the Scripts drawn on each piece he would have wondered how such flimsy looking, fitted armor could protect a man. The leather itself was harder than any metal he knew and more pliant than the finest cloth weaves. The multicolored Scripts were an exact replica of those covering his body up to his chin.
Vera’s green eyes studied him the entire time as he peeled the armor off. Her gaze didn’t drift even when she placed the plate on the table. Her sister soon joined her, carrying a pitcher of sweet kinai juice and a glass. They giggled as he laid his armor over his chair.
He stood before them in tight undergarments made from fine cotton, crafted so they wouldn’t hamper his ability to put on his armor. Giving them both a ghost of a smile, he said, “Well, you ladies had your fun, and have done your inspection. You see I’m not hurt. May I eat now?”
“Yes, you may, my Lord,” they both answered.
He strode to the table, sat, and dug in with zest.
Hours later, after another night with little sleep, a long, whistling wail penetrated Ryne’s skull-the summons he anticipated.
The calling was more a feeling than a sound. Ryne’s head resonated with it like one of his many headaches. He fought off the familiar dizziness swirling through his mind as the euphoria from the kinai juice he drank earlier battled the whirling sensation. After a few moments, the lightheadedness dwindled. With the dwindling came an irresistible pull like a maggot to a corpse.
He stared off through his window toward the cloud-shrouded Nevermore Heights. The summons pulled him there. He knew the place well.
Smirking, Ryne put down the ancient leather-bound tome he’d been reading. The title leered at him-The Principles and Tenets of Mater by Exalted Thanairen. After twenty years reading the book, every single word within it remained etched in his mind. One part came to mind as he took in the gloomy light of dawn peeking through the clouds. Dawn and dusk-The Spellforge hours-the times when light and shade were the most balanced-a period for great power.
Ryne stood and the two young women at his feet stirred. Vana and Vera had swayed and gyrated in the Temtesa until they grew tired. Then they sat and listened to him read from the book until they fell asleep. He waited a few minutes to make sure they were sound asleep once more. Satisfied with their slumber, he gathered his armor and his sword and slipped from the room.
In the adjoining room, Ryne donned his armor. Tightening the laces, he savored the feel of the leather molding itself to his flesh until the Scripts on the armor and those on his body became seamless. He tossed the strap for his scabbard over his head and his greatsword came to rest at his waist, the pommel slanted across his stomach.
With one last look at the sisters, he strode through the living room. Sakari detached himself from the wall following like Ryne’s own shadow. For a moment, Ryne thought about leaving a note, but he changed his mind. The women were used to him leaving for extended periods. Hopefully, they wouldn’t worry too much this time. When he returned, he would let them know it didn’t matter they were once bed warmers. He cared for them regardless. Sighing, he opened the door and stepped outside.
As usual the air was thick and humid. Dawn pricked the eastern horizon, the shaded gloom of thunderclouds blanketing the sky. Good, we’ll finally get some rain today. Gods know we need it.
Ryne spoke to Sakari without looking at him. “I didn’t think you would’ve felt that summons.”
“My affinity to what you feel has increased of late. I am sure you feel it too. Do you really think they will have the answers you seek?”
Ryne pondered the question for a moment. “They haven’t failed me so far. What have I got to lose?”
“Our freedom.”
“What sense is there in being free if I don’t know who I am? What my purpose is? Why this craving to kill thrives within me? My mind itself is a prison. Regardless, like you said, things are changing. I can feel it.” Ryne peered at the storm clouds. “The inconsistent weather, these mysterious women, the change in our link, the reappearance of Amuni’s Children and the wraithwolves. Maybe, answering the Svenzar’s summons is a part of this change.”
“What about the villagers?”
“Bertram and Hagan will know what to do should things worsen. I believe the elders will come to the right decision and at least have the women and children head to safety. Besides, with the way my power has acted recently, I hope the Svenzar can help bring me better control. I’ll need it to help Carnas. For their sakes and mine, I have little choice but to answer the calling.”
Face betraying no emotion, Sakari bowed, his silver-flecked, green pinpricks for eyes staring calmly back. Sometimes, Ryne still found himself wondering if the man had any insides.
“Come, let’s go,” Ryne said. “We’ll take the most direct path through the Mondros Forest.” He would have preferred to ride, but the trees in the deep rainforest and the treacherous Heights would hinder any mounts.
Without another word, Sakari started out across the Orchid Plains at a slow jog with Ryne trailing after him. Halfway across the plains, Ryne glanced over his shoulder.
A small figure moved away from Mariel’s camp in the distance behind them. For the first time, Ryne realized this trip provided him with a great opportunity to be rid of the woman.
Lightning flashed and highlighted Mariel’s form as she headed in their direction. Heartbeats later, thunder rumbled its defiant response and rain began to patter to the ground. The long awaited storm arrived.
CHAPTER 11
Ancel marveled at the ebb and flow of the battle between the two men in the distant city. Dear Ilumni, I beg you, let your light bring victory. As the prayer crossed his mind, he licked his suddenly dry lips, before taking a quick glance around him. Calm down man, stop jumping at shadows. Yet, here in Hydae where the shade held sway he couldn’t help the fluttering in his stomach.
At that precise moment, citrine and emerald lightning skittered across the banks of char-colored clouds drawn to the conflict raging in the city. The flashes made Ancel’s gut lurch, and he gritted his teeth at the sky. Why was he here on this forsaken ledge exposed to the angry elements?