Etchings of Power aotg-1 Page 4

  “Where’ve you been, boy?” Ancel shouted, his mood a little lighter at seeing his pet.

  Charra’s golden-eyed gaze swept to Ancel as he responded with a growl, crossed to the field on the other side road, and trotted a few feet ahead of their horses. Ancel shook his head. There was no accounting for Charra’s moods.

  Ancel returned to studying Mirza who still rode in silence. If only you knew how right you are. Ancel took a deep breath. Try as he might, he couldn’t think without Irmina crossing his thoughts. His hand found its way to his coat pocket again.

  “She wrote me the day she left, you know,” Ancel said, his voice low.

  Mirza looked at him from the corner of his eyes. “You mean the letter you read every day?”

  Ancel cocked an eyebrow. “When’d you notice?”

  “Hard not to,” Mirza replied with a shake of his head. “We’re only together every day. When you aren’t touching that pocket of yours, you’re lost in thought. Then sometimes when you think no one’s watching, you pull the letter out and start reading.”

  “Why didn’t you ask?”

  Mirza gave him a rueful smile. “You promised to run me through if I ever mentioned her name.”

  “I’m surprised you listened for so long.”

  “You’ve never seen your own face when someone mentions the woman.”

  Ahead, Charra stopped to stare into the Greenleaf Forest. Ancel peered toward the tree line, but saw nothing. He dismissed it as part of Charra’s recent habit of growling at shadows when he was in a foul mood.

  “So what’s in the letter?” Mirza asked.

  “Not much. We’d spent the night together. When I woke, she was gone, and the letter was next to my pillow,” Ancel answered absently, his gaze fixed on his daggerpaw. “The letter said she had to leave. That there was another.” Ancel’s chest throbbed with an almost physical pain. “She said she may never return to Eldanhill. That one day when I completed my studies and passed the trials, I’d understand. She just left me, as if I never mattered.”

  An uncomfortable silence followed. Somewhere among the trees, a bird began a mournful lament.

  “Life and love are brutal teachers. Learn, adjust, and survive. Or die. Those are your choices. I choose life,” Ancel said. He shrugged at Mirza’s frown for his sudden statement. “Those were the words she repeated several times before she left. I think I’m now beginning to understand.”

  Ancel reached for the letter. At the same time, Charra growled, low and hard. His bone hackles rose into a ridge of hardened spikes, their edges sharp as a newly forged dagger, the ones about his neck almost a foot long before growing less dense and shorter as they tapered off near his tail. Ancel’s gaze flitted from Charra to the woods. Brambles and bindweed snarled through the undergrowth and across stone outcrops beneath the trees. Red cedar and oak thrived. Except for the occasional sunlit patch, their canopies kept the forest in deep shadow.

  “What’s gotten into him now?” Mirza nodded to Charra.

  “I don’t know. He’s been moodier than usual the last few days, growling at shadows and the like. But this…” Ancel stopped his mare. The horse pranced, and he rubbed its neck until it calmed. This had to be more than just Charra’s mood.

  “I’ve only seen him like this when we’re hunting wolves.” Mirza brought his mount next to Ancel’s.

  “Wolves wouldn’t come this close to town,” Ancel said.

  Charra raised a shaggy foot and took one tentative step forward. He growled again, louder this time. The sound vibrated through Ancel. The horses’ eyes rolled, and the animals whickered.

  Stomach aflutter as he peered into the woods, Ancel frowned.

  “Listen,” Mirza said, his voice almost breathless.

  Ancel did. His brow knitted tighter.

  No birds sang. No animals chattered. The only sounds reaching them came from Eldanhill.

  The wind rose again, a little stronger than before. A faint smell from some animal, long dead, reached them. This time Ancel found himself rubbing his arms from the chill.

  Did a shadow just pass through that patch of sun? Ancel squinted at the spot within the woods, but he saw no other movement.

  “Did you see that?” Mirza whispered, his question confirming what Ancel thought he saw.

  Ancel nodded.

  The breeze passed, and the air stilled. The silence remained for another moment before birdsong rose and other sounds from the woods resumed.

  Charra whined, bone hackles softening and receding until they once again lay flat against his fur. He turned and loped toward Eldanhill.

  Ancel and Mirza sat there for a moment more, their gazes still riveted on the dappled shadows.

  Mirza broke their silence. “What do you think it was?”

  “I don’t know. But I wouldn’t worry about it now.” Ancel nodded toward Charra who continued toward Eldanhill. “He isn’t.”

  “I guess.” Mirza flapped his reins and started his stallion down the road.

  Ancel followed, troubled by Charra’s reaction and Mirza’s earlier words about Irmina. As much as he wanted to return to his old self, he was not sure he could. It’s not like I asked to feel this way about her. It just happened. Somehow, I’ll work this out. I think.

  Charra, on the other hand, was another issue. With his erratic behavior increasing, Ancel hoped his father wouldn’t listen to the townsfolk and ask him to leave the daggerpaw at the winery. Not being able to bring him to school was one thing. To do without him in Eldanhill altogether was another entirely. Given a choice, he would rather not come to town at all if it meant leaving his daggerpaw behind.

  Of course, not going to Eldanhill presented another set of problems. His need for female companionship would suffer. The thought made him remember today’s rendezvous.

  “By the way,” Ancel said, “I’m supposed to meet with Alys after school.”

  Mirza looked over his shoulder. “Is this your way of telling me you’re shirking your duties again? We’re supposed to be gathering kinai for Soltide and your father’s winery later.”

  “I know,” Ancel said. “But in case I lose track of time, I wanted you to know where to find me.”

  “Which means I will have to come find you.”

  Ancel snorted. “If that’s what you think, then-”

  “Here’s what,” Mirza interrupted. “I’ll do it if you’re willing to make a wager.”

  “If you want to lose more coin to me,” Ancel shrugged, “Who am I to argue? So what’s the bet?”

  “Simple. I bet you’ll think more with your cock than with your head. I know you won’t be able to hold back. Not with Alys. So if I have to come get you, it’ll cost you a gold hawk. If you manage on your own, I owe you two.”

  Ancel grinned. “There’s no way I’ll lose.”

  “We’ll see.”

  They continued on their way to their classes at Eldanhill’s Mystera.

  CHAPTER 5

  Ryne sprinted through the woods, tingles running through his body in tiny bursts.

  Did Mariel have anything to do with the lapra’s attack as Forian suggested? He wasn’t sure, but if so, he needed to keep her at bay. He couldn’t afford to take an unnecessary risk while trying to save Kahkon. When Sakari located the beast’s lair, the last thing they needed would be her interference.

  As he thought about the woman, his bloodlust boiled through his insides once more. The feeling conjured up images he knew too well over the years since he woke. Him, as he slammed the banner displaying the sun with a lightning storm striking in front of it into the ground. Towns and villages razed. The dead stacked in mounds. His Scripts as they roiled about his body more akin to living things than detailed tattoos when they drew on the elements of Mater. How that power had driven him to kill repeatedly to feed its hunger.

  “Our power is yours to use,” the vibrant voice edged with darkness urged. “Take it. Abuse it as you will. Revel in the victory our power can bring you.”

  N
o. Ryne slammed his mind shut against the voice. I cannot afford to lose control now. Not when Carnas’s people may be in danger. Not when Kahkon’s life depends on me. Concentrating, Ryne held the urge to kill at bay the way he’d practiced the last twenty years. He forced back the murderous intent by sheer will. A deep breath escaped his lips. Why has my control waned? Why now after all these years?

  Ryne cast a glance behind him. Mariel’s form disappeared among the trees. He knew the pattern well by now. If he stopped to pursue her, she would continue to hide, moving more like an Alzari assassin than one of the high priestesses of Ilumni she claimed to be. Why would a Devout venture this far into Ostania? The thought was just one of many troubling him about the woman. He couldn’t remember ever seeing one with such high rank as she without their silver uniform or their full retinue of guards. He considered hiding himself, but at eight feet tall, conventional methods of concealment presented dilemmas. In this case, drawing on the essences within the elements of Mater to mask his presence wasn’t an option.

  He took another quick look behind. He’d opened up more distance, but she still followed, as dogged as a hound. Again, he resisted the nagging temptation to go after her. But he couldn’t let her just roam free could he? Not with Kahkon’s safety at stake. Choice and consequence continued to pry at him.

  He made up his mind.

  “You wish for me to join you to chase her down?” Sakari’s smooth voice broke in, the words more a suggestion than a question.

  Ryne’s forehead wrinkled. When did I link with him. “No. I only intend to lead her away,” he answered in a level voice. He used the link with Sakari to gaze through the man’s eyes. Sakari, accompanied by four hunters, worked their way through the forest several miles east of Ryne’s location. “Continue to follow the tracks until they lead you to the beast’s lair and Kahkon.”

  “If you hold back, you will not capture her,” Sakari responded, as if he heard nothing Ryne said.

  “I said I have no intention of chasing her right now. Besides, if I don’t hold back, I’d have to kill her.” Ryne’s mouth curled with distaste at the thought. He shook his head.

  “Not if you allow me to help.”

  Ryne’s forehead wrinkled at the sudden urge to ask for his companion’s assistance. Could he trust himself with his earlier loss of control? He hardened his tone, “No, you stay with the others. Find the boy. I promised his mother. He mustn’t end up the same as those corpses we found, and we can’t allow him to disappear like the others. I’ll do what I can about Mariel.” Not wishing to second-guess his decision, he broke the link before Sakari could reply.

  When he swept his gaze behind him once more, Mariel was a mere speck. At that moment, the hunter’s horn sounded in a long, undulating bray to announce the others had located their quarry. Swearing, Ryne chased Mariel from his thoughts and dashed off toward the sound.

  As Ryne drew near, the ever-present lump in the back of his mind that told of Sakari’s presence grew in size. Feet flew by like inches and miles fled like yards as he followed his connection to Sakari along a path the hunters had hewn through dense undergrowth. The smells from fruits and orchid blooms and the twitter of birds hurtled by with each stride. One with the woods, Ryne avoided any branches and vines the men had missed. Within minutes, he reached the horn’s origin.

  An abrupt silence greeted him.

  Lenka, gray-haired and wiry, stood with horn in hand behind a large mahogany tree. Its thick branches drooped from the weight of its leaves and the lantum vines snaking among them. The canopy in this part of the Fretian Woods grew in a tighter knit than elsewhere. If one didn’t know the time of day, the murky light could easily be mistaken for dusk instead of late afternoon.

  Sakari and the other four hunters, all in scaled leather armor with short swords at their hips, melded with the tree trunks within the area until all were one and the same. Not a sound or motion gave away their positions.

  A familiar smell akin to spoiled meat assaulted Ryne’s nostrils. He stared in the direction of the scent and Lenka’s crooked arm and forefinger. The stand of trees the man pointed out was darker still, deep night to the rest of the area’s dusk. Ryne watched and waited as Lenka joined the other five men.

  From deep within the knits of vine and sapling leaves, a guttural sound reverberated similar to a man’s death rattle as he choked on his own blood. Except no man makes that sound.

  Branches snapped and heavy footfalls thudded as if whatever approached walked on stone instead of the leafy rug that covered the forest floor. Ryne kept his gaze trained, his body tense, and his hand hovering over his sword hilt. The earlier tingle returned, but this time it built into the familiar thrill of his battle energy.

  Where the other six men hid appeared as nothing more than shadowed trunks and foliage. The footfalls grew closer until they became thunder in the silent forest. Each step played a rhythmic beat to match Ryne’s own heart.

  The sound silenced. Not just the noise from the footfalls, but all nearby sounds.

  Leaves rained to the ground as branches whipped back and forth among the saplings directly across from Ryne. The black greenery parted.

  Snarls and grunts ensued. Two golden embers for eyes appeared. A wide muzzle and a head bigger than a massive bull followed.

  Once again, Ryne observed the unusual amounts of shade that clung to the lapra’s aura. Could it just be the rot?

  The lapra stopped before its body became exposed. Shrouded in the darkness, Ryne didn’t need to see the grotesque red and black flesh dripping with decaying meat. From the near suffocating stench that clawed at him, he could picture the beast.

  Another face, this one human, appeared not far from the lapra’s. The man’s aura, also tinted by more shade than normal, wavered in patterns Ryne recognized but couldn’t quite place. Paint covered the man’s face, blending with the leaves and shadow.

  Ryne’s breath quickened. An Alzari mercenary? Here? Did Mariel already inform the Tribunal of my presence? Have they hired these assassins to hunt me down again?

  A cry rang out in Kahkon’s unmistakable high pitch before Ryne could think of answers. Immediately, the lapra’s head and the Alzari’s face retreated among the trees. Sakari gave the signal and the hunters moved, all sprinting toward the stand.

  From the corner of his eye, Ryne caught a flash of long golden hair and an unfamiliar feminine form just as it fled behind a trunk. An aura with a peculiar mix of light, shade, and earth essences emanated from the stranger. Who is that?

  Heart thudding in his chest, his battle energy crawling across his skin in static charges, Ryne brought his hand down to his greatsword’s hilt and eased from his hiding place. But there was no sign of the stranger or her golden tresses. Her aura had also vanished.

  Crashes and shouts abounded as the hunters from Carnas engaged the lapra and its master. The creature’s roars joined the men’s voices. A yell cut off with an abrupt cry. Howls changed to snarling whines. The lapra’s thunderous rumbles continued to echo.

  Ryne raced to his friends, his brow drawn together in a lumpy frown. How could an aura he identified disappear as if it never existed?

  The lapra’s roars continued, occasionally interrupted by a whine or a snarl. The clang of metal meeting metal also rose.

  Ryne passed through the shadowy trees into an unexpected sight. Carnas’ five hunters had the grotesque ten-foot beast surrounded. From varied directions, they thrust, sliced, and feinted. Multiple wounds littered the lapra’s moldy fur. Its head dipped from side to side as it attempted to defend all attack points. Skin sloughed in places, and its blood dripped viscous and black.

  But that was not what surprised Ryne. The shock was in seeing Sakari battle not one but two dual-dagger wielding Alzari.

  Clad in dark leather matching the color of the forest, their faces covered in war paint, they circled Sakari. As one, the assassins attacked him from opposite flanks, darting in faster than any other of their clan Ryne had ever faced.
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  The three men twisted and turned. Their steps synchronized as if they danced to a tune only they could hear.

  Sakari was ever on the defensive, dodging and parrying stroke after stroke. His face remained impassive even when the Alzari’s black blades scoured his armor and licked at his flesh. Bright red trickles decorated his armor from his many cuts.

  With a snarl, Ryne joined the fray, his battle energy surging to a torrent.

  The closest Alzari twisted away to meet Ryne’s attack. Silversteel swished through empty air where the assassin once stood.

  Unlike his partner, Ryne’s opponent dodged his strikes instead of making any attempt to parry. Ryne attacked with the basics as he tested the man’s defenses. The Alzari ducked, dodged, leaped, and spun, his movements an elusive glide.

  Sweat marred the assassin’s painted face. His eyes narrowed as Ryne’s attack paused. In that lull, the Alzari struck.

  His daggers spun in his palms. A complicated pattern of slices followed. The attack flew up, down, left, right, into circular motions then to feints and lunges.

  Ryne recognized the Style at once-Amuni’s Hand, the God’s Way-but the assassin’s speed was so surprising he couldn’t dodge every strike as the leafy carpet under his feet caused him to move slower than he would have preferred. Nor could he raise his greatsword in time to parry despite its feathery weight. His armor parted with a soft hiss at the shoulder and chest followed by his own pained grunt. A burning sensation followed as did a trickle of warm blood. Ryne frowned. No normal steel could cut through his leathers. The Alzari’s weapons were imbued. Where could these men have found divya?

  Ryne’s Scripts roiled across his body and armor. The voices surged into his head. They begged him to release his bloodlust, but he gritted his teeth against the feeling.

  With Ryne’s recognition of the Styles came understanding. He considered each Stance the man would use before attacking with a Style. After parrying a few blows, Ryne adjusted to compensate for speed, a smile playing across his face. The Alzari’s brow puckered in concentration as he continued his onslaught.