Terry Simpson - Ashes and Blood

“They don’t?”

“Do you?”

Irmina pondered the question, but found no definitive answer. What she did know was that she would obey her orders.

“At least you are uncertain, which is good. A more prudent question may be to whom do the Exalted belong? What do they seek?” Jerem clasped his skeletal hands behind his back. “You are being sent to kill a man who might be able to save us. Why? All for the sake of what the Exalted crave. Immortality. Power. Whatever they cannot have no one else should possess, or so they believe. Ryne has the keys to those two things they covet. They fear him. They fear what his coming means, what the presence of a netherling signifies, who he may pass his power to.”

“I’m being sent to kill a man who destroyed countless lives.” Irmina scowled. “What would you rather me do? He must pay for his atrocities.”

“So you are a magister and executioner.” He paused. “Ah, but you are a Raijin now, that’s your job. However, do not forget you are also my student. What do you know of their plan?”

She looked at the floor. Silence stretched between them. Finally, she let out a deep breath and said, “They’re going to attack Eldanhill. That’s when I’ll have my chance.”

“Hmm. You are actually considering the act because it gives you a chance to strike at the Dorns as well as Ryne.” Jerem nodded in quiet contemplation. “All that drives you lies at your finger tips, at the edge of your blade.”

Irmina squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “They deserve what they have coming to them. What do you expect me to do? Not take revenge on those responsible for my family’s murders? Not take from Ryne what he took from so many? I gave up the chance for the sake of the future once. Now, we’re safe. I don’t care what he’s done recently. The man is evil. He-” She cut off as something from Jerem’s earlier words came back to her. “What did you mean by a man who might be able to save us? He already did.”

Jerem gazed out the window. “So you believe, as simple as a snap of fingers, the shade has been conquered. That which has lingered since the beginning of the world.” He shook his head. “You of all people should know things are never what they seem when it comes to the Tribunal.”

“I saw him defeat them with my own eyes. The man unleashed gigantic spirits that swept across Castere, destroying the shade and Voliny.”

“And this Voliny’s master? Did he defeat him too?”

“No, but with his armies gone, he’ll surely fall.”

That wispy white eyebrow rose. “Really? So a man or creature that this Ryne, who may indeed be a descendant of the Eztezians, could not defeat, will be beaten by us? A being who may be one of Amuni’s Skadwaz somehow here from Hydae? I taught you well, but in this one thing you allow your emotions to control your thoughts. Think. Sakari was a netherling. His presence here proves that not only have the seals on the Nether weakened, but so have the wards on the Kassite preventing man or beast from travelling between realms.”

Irmina hung her head. She hadn’t thought about all this. Her fists made an involuntary clench. All she wanted to do was avenge her family. Why was it proving so difficult?

Jerem’s berating continued. “Next, you will tell me we will defeat the gods when all the seals are broken and they come to claim what was once theirs.”

Shoulders sagging bonelessly, she looked up. “What do I do? If all this is going to happen, what can any of us do?”

A twinkle played across Jerem’s eyes. “You are a Raijin now. You will figure it out.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Have faith, I did say I taught you well. You have a mission to complete, and I need to leave this place before the Exalted send for me. I am sure they will follow the recommendations you made.”

Irmina’s eyes bulged. “I–I-I didn’t mean …”

“It is fine, my dear girl. You did what I expected. You had to pass your final test or else all I have put you through, all your training, would be for nothing.”

“Do you intend to try stop me?”

“Try?” Jerem gave her a bemused smile. “Nothing I do is try.”

For a moment, she tensed. If she must, she would find some way to defeat the old man, High Ashishin or not.

Jerem’s brow quirked once more. “To answer your question, I will do whatever is necessary for Denestia to survive another day.” Jerem held her gaze, eyes unwavering.

“What if that means killing me?”

Almost instantly, his face became blank.

The expression sent chills through her body. She used to think she could be cold-hearted, but those sudden dead eyes of Jerem’s, eyes that normally showed some kind of amusement, making him seem overly good-natured as if he found much in life comical, brought tiny bumps rising along her skin.

“Come, it is past time we leave.” Jerem spun and strode toward the thick oak door.

Irmina gazed at the crimson robes of her teacher’s back for a moment before turning her attention out the window. “Dear Ilumni,” she prayed, head bowed. “Please show me what I need to do.”

A sudden sense of inertia swept through her for a moment, and she reached a hand out to steady herself against the windowsill. A picture of Ancel bloomed in her mind along with the thousands upon thousands of pinpoints representing people drawn together in an intricate and incredibly powerful Forging. The image from the night when she killed Sakari. Why would that come to her now?

Frowning and thinking she needed rest after rushing across Ostania in chase of Ryne and then making her way to Jerem with few breaks in between, she straightened her clothes and followed her mentor.

Nose upturned at the stench wafting from the giant, Shin Galiana inspected his body where he lay with his thighs hanging off the examination table. The artwork covering his body and armor bore an uncanny resemblance to those on Ancel, but even more detailed. Placing a hand on his chest served to remind her just how small she was compared to the man. No, small would be an understatement. Tiny was more apt.

The flesh appeared to have closed around the arrow, but without removing his armor, she was uncertain. The man also suffered from a severe case of frostbite concentrated in areas not covered by his tattoos.

Etchings, she reminded herself.

The word and the man’s size made her think not only of Ancel but also of her past. They both dredged up memories she thought she’d permanently buried. Painful ones. She eased her eyes closed, and told herself the woman she used to be no longer existed. The man she once loved was long gone, sacrificing himself for the greater good. Maybe a time would come for her to revisit those recollections, live that old hurt, and with it, revive her hope, but for now, she needed to concentrate on Ancel and his mentor.

The young man was concerned for the stranger’s well being. She sympathized. After all, despite the rigorous Mater training she was putting him through, coupled with the advanced sword work lessons given by Stefan, neither of them were able to teach him about the strange phenomenon etched into his skin. The artwork appeared innocent enough if a bit ominous in some places, but a netherling had bestowed them. She shook her head. A creature linked to the creation of the world itself. If she were any other person, she would have found the idea unbelievable.

Those old memories bubbled to the surface again as she recalled Etchings from other times in her life: from a Svenzar back when Nerian became the Shadowbearer, and even before that, when-. She forced the thought from her mind. As she’d done for innumerable years, she would act as if she had no knowledge of the events she did. In many respects, it was the only way to maintain her sanity.