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 one side of the helm to the other and serving as a 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?”
“Yes. We were just discussing it when you came.” Ryne paused and shot her a meaningful glance. “Edsel, she’s a friend for now. Extend the same protection to her as you would for me and Sakari.”
Both the Setian’s heads snapped around to Ryne. Edsel’s one eye stared for a moment, and then he bowed. “As the Lightbringer wishes.” Edsel’s gaze brushed over the corpses. “I see you took care of what drew us here in the first place.” He pointed at the daggerpaws. “They’re drawn to the shade like rot flies to decayed flesh.” His eye shifted to Ryne. “It must be the Chronicle’s work to find you here. Come, there’s something you must see. On the way, you can tell me how you survived when you were taken by the Ashishin.” His eye shifted to Irmina, and he smirked.
“Give me a moment,” Ryne said.
Edsel nodded, signaled to his men and they mounted and rode up the hill.
“You’re not considering going with them, are you?” Irmina cast a venomous glare at the back of the Setian.
“If Edsel says there’s something I must see, then it must be important. It would help if you either shut up or chose your words more carefully.”
Irmina gave him a sullen look and opened her mouth before snapping it closed again. Face red, she stood quietly.
With a nod at her acquiescence, Ryne said, “You two help me get these bodies into the fire. I’ll leave nothing the shade could possibly use.”
As quickly as they could, they dragged the bodies, piling them around the fire. When they were finished, Ryne embraced Mater and stoked the fire’s essences. Clothes, armor, and flesh burst into flames, spewing out a heated backwash and smoke that reeked of the substances the fire consumed. Within moments, the corpses of the Alzari were nothing more than charred, oily ash, and the flames had diminished. Ryne kicked shale over the fire until it sputtered and died.
“Mount up, let’s go,” Ryne ordered. “And remember to watch what you say, Irmina.”
Torches lit the Setian convoy when they joined them on the other side of the hill. The winding line of dartans and lights stretched ahead. Ryne and the others rode up to the front next to Edsel and Garon. At a slow walk, they headed deeper into the mountains with the daggerpaws and their handlers bringing up the rear.
“Edsel, I still can’t believe you’re the Barrier bandits. Why the raids?” Ryne asked.
“Did the Setian ever need a reason for slaughtering innocent people?” Irmina scoffed.
Ryne shook his head.
A scowl twisting his face, Edsel made a point of ignoring Irmina. “At first, we needed to keep our people supplied until we could survive on our own. But that was long ago. Since then, we’ve carved our own lives out of this harsh land. We’ve had scouts return from Ranoda, Astoca, and the Alzari clanholds. We know of Amuni’s Children and the shadeling armies. Every raid we’ve done has been on supplies meant for them. None else. Some who died may have appeared innocent, yes, but they were helping Amuni’s Children. Whether they knew it or not makes no difference.”
“How noble of you,” Irmina said mockingly. “If not for your people, the shade wouldn’t have a toehold on these lands.”
Ryne sighed. The woman didn’t know when to shut up.
“It’s obvious you cannot see past what lies you were taught. You only see the picture’s frame instead of the delicate artwork.” Edsel shook his head. “Although your argument does have some validity, there’s much you don’t know. The Setian were in some ways responsible for the shade’s coming. In turn, without the Shadowbearer’s advance, Granadia too, would have fallen to the shade.”
“So now you would have me believe your kind saved us? Ha.”
Edsel tilted his head, his gold and silver eye unblinking as he studied her. He offered no reply as they weaved their way up into a narrow, rock-strewn pass scattered with occasional giant boulders. The Setian traveled between the mountainous silhouettes looming around them with the surefootedness of a well-known path.
After a few moments’ silence, Edsel pointed to his face and throat, then to his people riding ahead. “Here is my reminder of my people’s failure, but also of the torture yours inflicted on mine. This is all that’s left of a once thriving people. So save your talk about slaughter and reasons for someone else. You Granadians are no more innocent than we, even if you fail to see it.”
A sneer twisted Irmina’s features. “Your people destroyed your own, and killed thousands of mine. You wiped out most of Ostania with your conquest-”
“Did we? Or did the shade?” Edsel sounded as if he were chastising a naughty child. “Were your people any less the executioners? Let me guess, your vaunted history books tell you different. I see the Tribunal has perfected the business of poisoning young minds.”