Terry Simpson: Ashes and Blood

The same drawing showed them bowing before a form wreathed in light-a representation of Ilumni-as they received the Principles governing the elements of Mater and the Tenets for each individual essence. The script beneath said Ilumni also handed them the ideas behind the foundation of Streamean worship: the triple unity. The coming together of the gods, the three religions, and of man.

The writing continued to wax poetic about justice, social understanding, the belief in nonviolence, and compulsory education. Above all, it stressed the founding ideals of the harmonies of life. Do good and so would fortune shine on a person. Do evil and reap the rewards of darkness.

The last tapestry showed the creation of the gods themselves by the Annendin-the One God. He was a void, nothingness, black, and foreboding. Below the tapestry, written on the actual walls, were the Tenets and Principles of Mater.

Irmina pressed her lips into a tight line. Moments ago, Jerem mentioned how the concepts of good or evil were a matter of interpretation mired in a convoluted middle ground. How literally did a person take ‘reaping the rewards of darkness’ anyway? From experience, enough believed those rewards worth the sacrifice.

The High Shin clearing his throat broke her from her thoughts. “Be careful however you answer them. They will try to lead you.”

Irmina nodded. For the first time, images of whom or what she thought the Exalted looked like flashed through her mind. She had never met them before, but rumors abounded during her training all the way to her promotion from Pupa to Ashishin and her subsequent application to become a Raijin. For any Matus to rise above the rank of Ashishin they needed to visit the Exalted. As the Tribunal’s rulers, they reserved final say on any ascension after an interview. Some of those rumors said on occasion, a Matus presented before them did not return from the chambers and were not heard from or seen again. The thought made her shiver.

Her meeting today was two-fold. One was her interview to advance to Raijin, and completing whatever additional test they required of her within the confines of their quarters. The other was to be questioned about Ryne. Somehow, despite all Jerem’s precautions, the Exalted had discovered her original mission. Their summons left no room for maneuvering. Although she was certain their stance on the part she played in Castere would be a reflection of the Tribunal Assembly, that did not worry her as much as if they knew she kept Ryne’s identity a secret.

She drew in a slow breath, taking in the cleanliness of the halls and the perfumed scents from incense set into small braziers near the walls. “Should I lie?”

Jerem raised his brow again, this time sweeping a thin wisp of matching hair from across his other eye. “Even if I wanted you to, you do not possess the necessary skill for such an endeavor. They would see right through you.”

“So what shall I tell them?”

“All you know about Ryne. Answer their questions truthfully.”

“Won’t that implicate you-” she cut off her whisper as another High Shin, at least eight multicolored stripes adorning his silver sleeves, strode by. The man bowed slightly to Jerem, whose own robes bore several more stripes than his counterpart’s.

“Take a moment to think about exactly what you know.”

Irmina mulled over the events in her head, starting with Jerem training her to become an Ashishin assassin, to her discovery of the Dorns being responsible for her parents’ deaths. She considered the task Jerem set her before she could seek revenge, which led to Ryne and his companion, Sakari. She breathed deep as she remembered Sakari’s color-shifting eyes and his ability to use a skill similar to her beast-taming to delve into her mind. Not to mention the black creature with its many tentacles he’d transformed into when she killed him.

She dredged up every tidbit she could, including Taeria’s revelations and the knowledge imparted by Herald Bodo. Not even her discovery of Setian living on this side of the Vallum of Light revealed much about Jerem, although it did shed light on Ryne’s history.

In the final battle in Castere, Voliny revealed Ryne’s many incarnations. Lives of legends and myths. He himself was Nerian the Shadowbearer, the Setian king and a leader among the shade-the one who had issued the commands that began the demise of much of Ostania and her family.

She squeezed her eyes tight at the thought. With the chance before her, instead of killing Ryne, she’d destroyed Sakari. An act she still did not fully comprehend.

Why kill Sakari? The thought still haunted her as did the man’s eyes and his ability to heal almost any wound as well as his armor itself. She blamed the strange affinity she felt to Ryne at the end with the sudden appearance of swaths of Mater pouring through the air.

In all this, what did she really know of Jerem’s own plans? Hardly anything.

However, she did know what she would not tell them. Whatever it took, she would drive the pinprick from her mind that she’d felt ever since that night in Castere. It pulled her in Eldanhill’s direction. She found the idea scary enough without thinking about the Exalted.

She didn’t realize Jerem stopped until she bumped into his back. Before them was a huge door, the Lightstorm insignia emblazoned across its surface. To either side, Dagodin soldiers stood at attention, their gazes seeing nothing and everything.

“Ready?” Jerem asked.

“Yes,” she replied, hoping her voice sounded stronger than her knees felt.

The door slowly swung inward.

Behind Ancel, Charra’s grunting barks and growls changed to roars. Wolves howled.

Dear Ilumni, keep them safe, he prayed in earnest. He steeled his back and shoulders. The dizziness he expected swept through him for a moment before it subsided.

As always, he had no explanation for the phenomenon. He wondered if it was a part of his new power or had anything to do with the strange dreams he had trouble remembering at times. The ones he did recall were so vivid he thought he could touch the black leaves in the even blacker forests and feel the power rippling through Jenoah’s streets and spires during the distant battle that occupied his fantasy. Recently, those dreams had increased in frequency.

Charra’s roars broke him from his reverie. The wolves answered. A grim reminder of what his father and Kachien were fighting.

Ancel pushed the images from his mind and concentrated on the route ahead. No real path showed through the snow and ice-laden brush, and he adjusted several times to skirt a tree. When a stray branch snagged at his legs, cloak, or hitched onto the litter, he swore some god or daemon was conspiring against him. On several occasions, he hacked away such an offending limb. If not for the fact winter’s grip squeezed the land and much of the brush had lost its foliage, the progress through the woods may have been nigh impossible. As it stood, branches snapped off, some requiring more effort, but they broke all the same. Pulled by the force of his Da’s horse, the litter helped clear a path more than it hindered.

The trip reminded him of earlier that summer when shadelings chased him and Mirza. The memory brought a fresh surge of fear. He found himself peering into the darker patches of the woods, jumping at shadows. At any moment, he expected shadelings to leap from the forest’s recesses. Either wraithwolves, green eyes glowing, their fur blackened char, as they ran first on two legs like a man before dropping on all fours to leap and bound; or darkwraiths, their man-like forms more gray smoke than solid flesh. No such beasts revealed themselves. He mouthed a silent prayer to Ilumni.