“I see that look in your eyes, son.” A smile on his lips, Nerian shook his head. “I am not insane. And yes, I believe a way exists to completely control Mater. The Pathfinders are a perfect example. They may not have full control yet, but they are more powerful than almost any other Matii. The answers lie in the Great Divide. I am certain of it. Why else would the Tribunal seek to bring Ostania under their rule?”
“How are you so sure conquering Mater is their intention?”
“Come now. You witnessed what happened when their Ashishin handled unstable elements. Imagine the possibilities if a way existed to prevent such a thing from happening.”
A world in chaos, Stefan thought, as he pictured Forgers abusing their power without its limitations. Then his eyes widened. “So you did know,” he exclaimed, staring at Nerian in disbelief. “And you withdrew our Alzari without warning me.”
“You would have tried to mend those Astocans anyway.”
Stefan frowned. “Who told you I did?”
“I have my ways. Remember when you were young and you and Kasimir stole kinai fruit from that merchant?”
Brow wrinkling, Stefan recalled the time vividly. He and Kasimir had waited until Master Sena placed the sweet, fist-sized, red fruit in his warehouse before using the hole they’d dug the night before to crawl in and gorge themselves. Before they could leave, Nerian called to them, stepping out from the dark. The King had kept it quiet, but he’d put a whipping on the two of them they’d never forget. For weeks after, they both found it difficult to sit. Involuntarily, Stefan’s hand reached toward his butt. “Yes,” he said. “Garrick told on us then. Did he … is he-”
“No, he did not and is not. I asked and he refused me.” Nerian gave him a wry smile. “Do not worry yourself, but what happened at the Sang Reaches was confirmation of things I expected. I was already aware of much of the Tribunal’s plans.”
Stefan’s mouth fell open. “A spy within their ranks? Not just anyone, at least a High Shin.” Stefan’s brows climbed his forehead. “Galiana,” he whispered. Another knowing smirk from Nerian was all the confirmation he needed.
“Don’t look at me that way,” Nerian admonished. “She volunteered for the task. Besides, the Tribunal has been spying on us this entire time. I cannot trust any of their Matii.”
“Despite all the years they helped in our battle against the shadelings?”
“Do not be naive,” Nerian chided. “We use who we must as they do us. Alone, we could never muster enough Matii or weapons to fight the shade’s last invasion, but together, a united Ostania did. In taking credit for bringing us together, the Tribunal gained their hold in Ostania.”
“And we’re united now, aren’t we,” Stefan said, finally understanding some of the purpose of his last few years of service. “On our own.” He couldn’t bear to look at Nerian with the knowledge of how the King used him.
“Not quite,” Nerian said. “But we are close, oh so close.” His voice gained a sudden fervor. “Don’t you see? We are stronger now. We no longer need to rely on the Tribunal to defend us. We can protect ourselves. Eventually, we can chase them back across the sea where they belong. Ostania can once again be whole.”
Stefan regarded the man he once held in such high esteem. “What then?”
King Nerian chuckled. “After that my son, the world is ours.”
“A dream, sire. You’re living a dream. I guess the Granadians will simply bend knee and let you claim their lands. Their Matii will no longer fight for their cause but for ours instead.” Stefan made no attempt to hide his sarcasm.
“That my son is the beauty of it all. Come.”
His body tense, Stefan followed at the King’s heels.
Nerian strode with purpose, head held high. He stopped at the edge of the battlements. “There, this is why I needed you to come home.” The King pointed out to the fields beyond the eastern walls.
An army numbering in the tens of thousands, no, hundreds of thousands covered the plains. The Quaking Forest of Setian flew from every battle standard. The absence of flags displaying lightning bolts striking in front of the sun was more than a little disconcerting. That absence, the lack of the Tribunal’s Lightstorm, was a stark revelation of the King’s intention.
“What-”
“Matii,” the King declared. “Our own.”
Stefan stared dumbly at the mass of bodies below. The green with crimson sleeves represented Dagodin, and from the unnatural gleam of their swords and spears, they wielded divya. How had the King found enough Matii to imbue so many weapons? Next to them he counted several legions in green and gold tunics and pants-Alzari. “How did you find so many Forgers?”
“Because of you, son.” A wild grin split Nerian’s face. “Once you defeated the Astocans, it gave us the last supply of Matii we needed. We may have warred with each other, but long ago, the kingdoms came to an agreement. Whoever conquered all of us would lead a united Ostania to overthrow the Tribunal. The other kingdoms decreed that all Matii must enter military service. Here in Seti, we sent out High Alzari to recruit Matii or forcefully take any who would dare shun my commands. I chose not to make the requirement public until I thought we were ready to face the Tribunal.”
Or to avoid any Matii fleeing beforehand.
“Now, that day is here,” Nerian continued. “All that remains is for you to say yes, you will lead them.”
“I thought Cerny was next in line.”
“He has proven to be a tad unworthy.”
“What if I refuse?”
Nerian gave him a mirthless smile. “Come now. You will not refuse. I have done away with titles endowed by the Tribunal. We shall revert to our own. From now on, you are no longer Knight Commander, but General Stefan Dorn.”
Stefan shook his head in denial. How could Nerian have changed this much?
“Go home to your wife and think things over.”
“I don’t need to-”
“Trust me, General. Think about the decree for service from all Matii.”
Stefan’s eyes narrowed. Thania was a Matus, once a Shin within the Tribunal. A sinking feeling rippled through the pit of his stomach. “You can’t mean to force-”
“Go home to your wife. She needs you.”
Stefan stiffened at the empty tone of the King’s voice. The pendant of his wife became as heavy as the sudden weight threatening to crush his heart.
CHAPTER 7
Cold autumn air whipping at his face, his mount’s hooves beating thunder onto the flagstones, Stefan rode hard for home. Yet, the chill wasn’t what sent shivers through his body, and his speed wasn’t what spurred on his racing heart as he dashed past mostly empty side streets in Benez’s Upper City. Concern for his wife was the cause. Another time and place he would not have believed King Nerian could have meant Thania harm, but the look in the man’s eyes, his voice and his apparent insanity sent doubts whirling through the Knight Commander’s mind. Nerian’s mention of his distrust for the Tribunal and their Matii, his revelation of mandatory service, coupled with the fact Thania once served as a High Ashishin only added to Stefan’s trepidation.
This was supposed to be a time of enjoyment for him and his men. Music feathered through the air. All across the city, the people celebrated. Even here, along the avenue with its expansive villas, nobles dressed in layered silks and satins hurried on their way to join those cavorting on the King’s Road or to the ball at the Royal Palace. Some paused to cheer him on. At any other time, Stefan would have stopped to enjoy the festivities, the foods, the dancing. His expression soured with the thought of revelry.
He whipped his reins and dug his heels harder into his horse’s sides. Head down, neck outstretched the animal bounded forward. The world became a blur as he raced up the avenue, his anxiety growing the closer he came to home. When the square columns, the manicured gardens, and the roof of his villa appeared over a rise, he willed himself to go faster. Heart aflutter, the last vestiges of the daylight dipping below the horizon and Denestia’s twin moons casting long shadows around him, Stefan reached the premises.