Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

Ancel smiled and touched Alys’ hand tenderly. “Thank you for that. Maybe you’re stronger than I’ll ever be.”

A faint smile crossing her lips, she gave his hand a brief squeeze.

“I’m glad we had this talk,” Ancel said.

“Me too.”

“How’re you handling all this.” Ancel pointed to the other cots.

“I’m managing. Barely. How could this happen, Ancel? Without anyone knowing?” Alys’ eyes glistened.

“I–I don’t know. Have you heard anything from your father about Council’s plans?”

“No, they’ve been in meetings all day. Mother has been quite flustered though. And Shin Galiana has acted strange. She’s been staying close to your father ever since they brought him in. A few times she wrote something down during his rambling but later burnt it.”

Ancel studied his father’s face. Since drinking the kinai tea, Stefan had regained some of his color and his chest rose and fell in even breaths. Why did Shin Galiana write down what he said?

A commotion to the other side of the room drew Ancel’s attention. About twenty Dagodin followed a senior officer with the crossed swords signet on his arm that named him a Knight. The black-haired, hook-nosed man strode next to a mender who pointed out men on cots. Two Dagodin marched to each cot chosen, positioned themselves to either end, lifted and headed to the hall leading upstairs.

“What are they doing?” Ancel asked, amid women’s panicked wails from across the room.

Each time the menders pointed out a man, cries burst out from a woman. A few tried to reach the cots picked out, but the soldiers restrained them.

“When someone dies from the taint they’re cremated. Shin Galiana hasn’t given a reason for this, but her orders were explicit.” Tears streamed down Alys’ face.

Ancel watched in stunned silence as the Dagodin took ten dead men. He took a step forward, before he fought back to urge to help the townsfolk, his arms tight from the effort. An Ashishin’s orders were not to be disobeyed, no matter how gruesome.

“I have to go console them,” Alys said, her tone painfully soft. She crossed the room and spoke to the women, touching a shoulder here, squeezing a hand there, or whispering in an ear. Sometimes, the sobs increased, and she would hug that woman until her display of grief lessened.

Another Dagodin squad entered, and the process repeated. Ancel swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and scrubbed at the wet warmth that ran down his face. He reached for his father’s hand. Dear Ilumni, spare my father such a fate.

Ancel’s head spun for a moment. This time he quickly sought the Eye and brought himself under control. He frowned. Was it the third time that had happened? All after a prayer to Ilumni? He said another prayer in his mind for the well-being of Eldanhill, but nothing happened. Shaking the idea off as ridiculous, Ancel returned his attention to his father. Anything so he wouldn’t count how many people he knew were being cremated.

His father’s confusing words continued from time to time. Often his face would revert to its pale appearance. Every hour Alys dosed him with kinai and the color returned. Eventually, Ancel took over the doses.

Ancel was sipping his second cup of kinai tea when Mirza and Danvir visited.

“Sorry, Ancel. We didn’t know.” Danvir patted Ancel’s shoulder.

“Not many did,” Ancel said.

“How’s he doing?” Mirza asked, his gray eyes steady.

Ancel shrugged, trying not to show how torn up he felt inside. “Not as bad as some. He keeps coming in and out of consciousness.”

Dagodin carried away another group of men.

“What’s that about?” Danvir nodded at the commotion and crying women.

Ancel explained Shin Galiana’s orders. Both his friends stared.

“Any idea why?”

Ancel shook his head.

“Hmm, I’ll ask my father when I go home, see what he says,” Danvir mused.

“How’s everything outside?”

Mirza raised his eyebrows and shook his head slowly. “Bad. They deployed Dagodin to the south of town. The Sendethi have gained reinforcements. But there’s no sign of the shadelings. You should see all the lightstones and lamps they have out there. You can hardly tell moonrise is com-”

“M-m-moonrise?” Stefan sputtered painfully.

“Da!” Ancel exclaimed.

His father’s face had retained its color since the last kinai dose. The man’s cheeks appeared fuller even as his emerald eyes watered. He gripped the sheets as a spasm wracked his body.

Ancel squeezed his father’s arm. “Take it easy, Da.”

“An-” His father coughed. “Ance, Ancel what are you doing here. W-w-where is your…mother?”

“She’s fine. At least that’s what Guthrie said. Why-”

His father struggled to sit up. “You need to go to your-” He coughed. “Your mother. S-s-she will need your help. Get… get to her before moonrise.”

“Da-”

“No, boy.” His father’s voice became steel. He hacked another cough. “Take my sword. It’s a divya . You’ll need it.” He pulled the sword, in its white and gold scabbard, from under the sheet. With his other hand, he made the sign of an X over his heart. “Release-” He collapsed.

White heat flashed through Ancel. “Alys! Alys!” he yelled. The heat sucked at him as if it wanted to swallow him. Chest heaving, shoulders knotting with strain, he fought against the feeling, and it subsided to a comfortable warmth. Warmth he could sense outside himself, on his chest, and in his father’s hand.

The sword and the pendant. He could sense them. Ancel’s eyes bulged.

Alys appeared by his side. Danvir and Mirza tried to help, but she shooed them away. She motioned for Ancel to help her with the medicine, and he did, all the while hoping to ignore what he felt. His father sputtered as he drank.

Stefan’s hand rose feebly with the sword in it. “Go,” he whispered, then his body sagged and his eyes fluttered shut.

“No. No. Alys is he…”

She touched his neck. “He’s asleep. What happened?”

“He woke and asked after my mother. Then he said she’ll need my help and to take his sword.” Ancel refused to touch the weapon, but he could feel it all the same. “He said I needed to reach her before moonrise.” He wiped tears he didn’t realize he’d shed from his face.

“He always feared this.” Guthrie’s grim voice sounded from behind them. He still wore his armor. His massive greatsword rested on his shoulder. “Take the sword. If we’re to save your mother, we must go now.”

Irmina stood in the Bastion’s s main envoy room. Like the others, the room’s white alabaster, feldspar and steel blocks formed a dome. No lamps hung along the walls, and neither the Dagodin guarding the room nor Herald Bodo bore lightstones, yet the room was bright all the same. She waited to the side for the Herald who still read the message map.

Somewhere above her, Ryne was meeting with Knight Commander Varick and his Knight Generals. The man had pushed the dartans hard, not stopping to rest or talk.

“You seem impatient,” Herald Bodo intoned. Whenever the man spoke, he sounded as if on the verge of some important proclamation.

“I don’t know if it’s impatience as much as it is worry.” Her thoughts still hovered around the discovery of the shadelings, the wraithwoods, the breach of the Vallum and the powerful man Ryne had fought.

“Rest assured the High Shin isn’t ignoring you. Your message has more severe implications than the last.” Lights flashed across the map in an ordered sequence, and he frowned.

“Then why so long for Jerem’s reply?”

Herald Bodo stroked his forked beard. “According to the message I just received, there have been similar occurrences in Granadia.”