Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

“Thank you.” Ryne pushed the flaps aside and entered.

Knight Commander Varick stood at a broad table in his suit of embossed silver plate with his maps spread before him. His beard was now trimmed into a neat V. Ryne smiled. The man disliked going to war with an uncouth appearance. Three helmets rested on the table beside the maps, and next to Varick, stood Clovis and Strom.

“Greetings, Master Waldron,” Varick said without looking up from the maps.

“Greetings, Knight Commander. Clovis, Strom.” Ryne stepped closer to the tent’s center.

The Knight Captains nodded.

Varick turned his gaze up to Ryne’s face. “So, what news of Bastair.”

“Not good. They’ve captured the town. I saw shadelings, one daemon and-”

Varick frowned. “What kind exactly, and in what numbers?”

“About forty wraithwolves, several hundred darkwraiths, and a shadestalker,” Ryne answered. Clovis snorted and opened his mouth to speak. “They also had about four thousand Amuni’s Children. Not your typical ones either. These were soldiers, all equipped with divya spears,” Ryne finished before Clovis could utter a word.

Strom’s mouth dropped open. “That’s more divya than we currently have.”

Varick stroked his beard calmly, his eyes not betraying the same concern as Strom’s. “A few cohorts of Amuni’s Children and nowhere close to the full bane of shadelings rumored to be advancing.” He grunted. “The daemon is worrying but I've dealt with its kind before during the War of the Shadowbearer. That wouldn't make you rush back this quickly, Ryne. If you’re the same man I remember, with those numbers, I would’ve expected you to attempt to kill the daemon even against the darkwraiths. There’s more isn’t there?”

Ryne stared into Varick’s sharp eyes. “Yes, the shadestalker began a sela harvest. It took fifty the first time. There’s still about a thousand townsfolk left, but the daemon has already called to the other banes. They’ll make it to Bastair within the hour. Also, there was a man who could well be a Skadwaz.”

The men gasped.

Outside, shrill horns keened. Within the camp, warring trumpets blared.

Ryne’s head snapped around at the sound of the horns.

“They’re here?” Strom’s eyebrows rose.

“Maybe they have some secret,” Clovis sputtered, his earlier bravado gone. “How else could they…? Dear Ilumni.”

Varick tilted his head and regarded Clovis with cold eyes. “Calm down, Clovis. These aren’t those Svenzar raids you’re used to where you sit and chat after a show of force, man. This is real war. Get a fucking grip on yourself or return to Kalir where you can be coddled.”

Sweat trickling down his brow, Clovis knuckled his forehead. “Yes, Knight Commander. I–I’m sorry, sir.”

“Leave it to the Tribunal to send an inexperienced officer,” Ryne said under his breath with a shake of his head.

Varick gave a slight nod and sighed before returning his attention to the map. “Ryne, this doesn’t make sense. Even if all their banes came here with every divya they have, they couldn’t hope to win, not this close to the Vallum.”

The tent flap ruffled and a guard stepped inside. “Sir, an Envoy is here.”

“Send him in,” Varick said without taking his eyes from the map.

The guard stepped outside, and a sharp-eyed young man in the green shirt and dark blue trousers of an Envoy entered. He made several nervous bows to the men inside.

Varick waved the man to the table. “Report.”

“Herald Jensen says the scouts have reported multiple enemy movements. The shadebanes are no longer at the other towns. They’re concentrated near Bastair and Cendos, sir.” He indicated an area between Bastair and Varick’s encampment. “The army of Amuni’s Children has formed here.”

Varick nodded. “In what numbers?”

“Three legions, sir. Scouts estimate four thousand per legion. And at least one full shadebane.”

“Cavalry?”

“Yes sir, three dartan cohorts. Four hundred mounts per cohort.”

“Thank you, Envoy. Dismissed.”

The Envoy bowed, turned away from the table, and strode from the tent.

Clovis drummed his fingers on the table. “Sir, we should use the advantage of the Vallum and crush the cultist force. If we’re able to also defeat that shadebane, it would be a huge blow.”

“Huge blow for whom?” Ryne asked. “Are you even paying attention?”

Clovis hissed. “Do not speak-”

“Oh hush, Clovis. Ryne knows more about war than you’ve seen or read in your lifetime twice over,” Varick said. “Now, do as he says and pay attention. To have moved so many men so fast means only one thing. It’s as you said, Ryne. There are those among the shade who can Materialize.”

Clovis offered no response, but his pasty face was almost pink. He gave a hesitant nod.

“Interesting,” Strom said. He traced his gloved fingers along the map from Sandar and Dastan to where the enemy force was now positioned. “As unlikely as it would seem for someone that powerful to be helping them, it must be a consideration. Could it be this daemon or maybe some old remnant from Seti?”

Varick shook his head. “I’ve approached the Tribunal about this in the past. They seem to think no Ashishin or daemon powerful enough to have such a skill still lives in Ostania, and that they eliminated the few Skadwaz from Denestia a century before the Shadowbearer. This may be just what I need to prove them wrong. Any suggestions, Ryne?”

“It’s simple,” Ryne stated. “Whoever is leading the shade knows we would love a chance to take out a bane. He also knows he would lose in a fight here due to the Vallum. Using a full bane to lure our forces is a smart maneuver. Almost irresistible. However, it’s all a distraction.”

“I disagree-”Clovis began.

“As you would. This trap would work perfectly on someone as foolhardy and unblooded as you.” Ryne stared at the man until Clovis averted his eyes. “This is a distraction. A simple sacrifice.” Ryne stepped up to the table and pointed out the locations on the map. “With the numbers they needed to defeat the Alzari, they could field a larger force, but instead they send this group. Why? They intend to finish the harvest at Bastair, and then move on to Cendos. By the time we defeat their forces blocking us, the deed would be finished. And the other five banes would be that much stronger for it. They will then escape with ease, Materializing to safety.”

Varick grimaced. “Hmm. In one move, they would have reinforced five banes. We can’t afford that.”

Strom regarded Ryne, one thick brow raised. “What do you suggest, Master Waldron?”

“Leave Clovis with his heavy armored dartans here.” Ryne indicated the Knight General with a tilt of his head while pointing at the location of the shadebane and the enemy army. “Have Refald assist him.” Seeing Refald’s infantry at work should lend some backbone to Clovis. “Let Refald engage first, and Clovis can flank them in a simple pincer.”

Clovis opened his mouth but Ryne continued, speaking to Strom. “We take your light cavalry and Varick’s legions and engage the banes at Bastair. That’ll force the other two banes moving to Cendos to help. Then we can crush all five. If the High Ashishin shows up by then…” Ryne shrugged. “All the better. They can bring reinforcements.”

The tent flap whipped aside. In strode High Shin Jerem, his silver robes flowing about him, followed by Irmina. “A good plan, but there’s one issue.” He made his way to the table.

Ryne's eyes grew wide at the sight of Irmina. Her armor left her entire stomach exposed and accentuated her breasts. Her leggings appeared as if they were molded to her skin, and around her waist hung a belt with several disks. A kilt barely managed to cover her privates. The most heavily armored part of her body was her shoulders and arms, which were covered by pauldrons and vambraces made from some pliant material that glinted like polished steel. The crimson of the armor set off her pale skin. A sword hung at her waist.