Ryne perked up, possibilities flitting through his head. “So where can I find her?”
“She’s in Felan Mark. I figured it being in Ostania would give you a better chance to talk to her before anyone could do something about it.”
“Why would they send her all the way there?”
Varick’s face brightened. “Oh, I don’t know. Some commander reported he needed the weapons as soon as possible. The Tribunal agreed.”
Ryne couldn’t help his grin. Varick had a way of seeing he got things done just the way he wanted them. Ryne’s face grew serious. “You’ll need those divya more than you know.”
“Really?”
Drawing a deep breath, Ryne told him what had happened. He started with Mariel then continued on with the missing villagers, the murdered men, the golden-haired stranger, the infected lapra, the Alzari, the wraithwolves found in the woods, the darkwraiths and his battle. He left out Halvor and the Entosis.
Varick’s expression went from wide-eyed shock to disgust until his brow furrowed tightly. “Mariel, you say? I almost forgot. There was a third reason I needed to see you. A couple months before I left the Vallum, there was a slim, dark haired woman with gold eyes like an eagle's looking for you. Claimed she was a Devout named Mariel. I had one of my men look into it. She was really an Ashishin named Irmina, well on her way to becoming a Raijin. One of the Tribunal's favorites or so I’ve been told.”
Ryne ground his teeth. Not only was the woman an Ashishin, but she was training to be a member of one of the deadliest assassin corps in Granadia. I knew I should’ve killed her.
CHAPTER 36
From Irmina’s vantage point atop a hill, travelers and soldiers alike approaching the main fort appeared as small colored figures dwarfed by the Vallum of Light’s size. In groups, they disappeared into the two-hundred foot wide mouth of the passage that served as the only exit or entrance through the wall. The Vallum itself stretched three hundred feet into the air, its white alabaster, feldspar, and steel, shining with an ethereal glow. Irmina knew the radiance for what it was-light and fire essences imbued into the structure.
In truth, the fort was two Bastions-Hope and Forlorn-like every other Bastion named for whatever the High Ashishin who undertook their construction felt they represented. The oval edifices, with their lines of crenels separated twenty-five feet between each, extended another hundred feet above the Vallum, and were positioned to the left and right of the entrance to and from Ostania proper. Not that the land spanning from the Vallum west to the Sea of Swirls was not part of Ostania, but as that swath was currently under Tribunal rule, it was often considered Granadian territory. The fact the local Ostanian kingdoms disagreed with such considerations was of no consequence.
As the setting sun painted wispy clouds purple and orange, Irmina rode down from the hills toward the throng of travelers heading to and from locations beyond the Vallum. Those without an armed escort were already preparing camps not far from the wall’s protection. Wagons rolled along, and those on horses, dartan or slainen galloped by those on foot in an attempt to reach the gates before the call to close the entrance sounded.
The activity around her droned on in an incomprehensible racket. Peoples in fashions she didn’t recognize, various skin colors from pale Granadians to ebony Cardians, and languages and dialects she couldn’t begin to understand, journeyed the wide road. Quick bows came from those who glanced up and saw Irmina’s crimson Ashishin uniform as Misty sped by.
Irmina followed the path set aside for nobility and military, red armored Dagodin greeting her with salutes. As she passed the first massive gate set into the wall, Irmina cringed. Unlike other gates, this one was all stone-a part of the wall-and required an Ashishin to trigger the wards that closed and opened it. She had once seen what would happen to those caught between when the massive slabs slid together. Dark red splotches marked the most recent occurrence.
Neither lamp nor lightstone lit the passage, but the glow from the essences within the structure made the inside as bright as early afternoon. Murder-holes and arrow slits dotted the walls and the bridge above that spanned between the two Bastions. With a soft trill, Irmina urged Misty to go faster. Minutes later, they crossed the five hundred foot tunnel and out into the open air. Tension eased from Irmina’s shoulders, and she allowed herself a deep breath.
Ignoring the people either heading to the closest encampments of travelers or continuing toward the town in the distance, Irmina veered right. Spread below in a vast field were thousands of tents, many with the Lightstorm insignia flying above. Barked orders, the clash of steel, and the synchronized stomp from Dagodin practicing formations rolled through the air. She rode abreast the Vallum, bathed in its white glow, until she reached the rounded granite structure where the Bastion Forlorn began. The Dagodin outside snapped to attention as she dismounted and dropped Misty’s reins over one of many hooked spikes set into the wall.
The gravity of the news she brought crawled within her as she entered the building. Before long, her hurried footsteps became a run. Several winding stairs later, she reached the well-guarded communication center.
The room’s rough-hewn, feldspar and steel blocks rose into a dome far above her head. As with the passage, no lamps hung along the walls, but the room was bright all the same. A lone man, with a round, too-smooth face, wearing a long robe with colorful sashes embroidered in diagonal patterns that identified him as an Ashishin Herald studied the message map on the floor.
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.”