Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

Breaths coming hard and fast, her chest heaving, she clawed her gaze away and forced back the touch probing her mind. She noticed then the lapras had scattered to parts unknown and what little remained of the black cluster of trees.

From what was now a clearing within the woods, strode the giant, fires petering out behind him. When he reached his bodyguard, he hauled him to his feet. A few words passed between them.

Something about the smaller man seemed off, but she couldn’t quite place it. Sifting through jumbled thoughts, she scoured the recollection of the fight before she sucked in her breath, her hand covering her mouth.

Silvereyes’ armor was not only whole and seamless once more, but he no longer bore so much as a scratch.

Irmina shimmied down the trunk as fast as she could and sneaked away to put more distance between her and them as the men set about cutting down a few branches. When she felt more secure, she stopped to watch.

They’d constructed a litter. The giant picked up Kahkon, laid him gingerly on its surface, then stepped away. The bodyguard took his place. He rubbed something over the boy’s wounds causing the youth to shudder.

Irmina continued to follow their movements while they worked on the boy. Time passed and clouds scudded across the heavens as the deep oranges and purples of the twilight sky dwindled to a slate blanket. Seemingly finished, the two men waited a few moments, peering into the undergrowth at the sounds of rustles and crashing branches. A lamp sparked to life in Ryne’s hand. After a final look in her direction, they picked up Kahkon and made their way through the forest.

Ryne kept an eye on Kahkon. With each of the boy’s whimpers and ragged breaths, Ryne’s fist clenched tighter where he held the makeshift litter carrying Kahkon’s broken and bruised body. Moans escaped Kahkon’s lips followed by painful gasps and cries as they worked their way through a particularly rough part of the woods. A moment later, the boy fell into a feverish bout filled with coughs and unintelligible mutters, bloody spittle bubbling from his lips.

“Tend to him, Sakari,” Ryne ordered, working hard not to let his voice quaver. He paused as they set the litter down. “Be extra careful with his leg and his stomach. Please.”

As much as he wanted to comfort Kahkon, Ryne stepped away instead. Stroking the boy’s face and whispering reassuring words would only serve to encourage the anger smoldering deep inside. Waiting to one side as Sakari administered the kinai mixture again and changed the boy’s saturated poultices, Ryne let out his breath in a deep whoosh.

Denestia’s twin moons had risen and now lay hidden behind a mass of clouds made sluggish from the windless night. The day’s heat that normally lifted at sunfall, sat like a woven quilt, heavy and thick, and added a palpable quality to the darkness of the surrounding woods. Ryne had the feeling that without its glass container, the lone flame from the lamp he held wouldn’t have flickered. Not even the shadows cast by its light wavered.

Insects chirped, owls hooted and foragers rummaged about in the undergrowth before they ran off, scared away by the guttural snarls of beasts drawn to the pungent aroma of Kahkon’s blood. On occasion, Ryne caught the occasional glimmer of movement or shining eyes among the silhouettes of trees. Off to one side, branches shook, but he made no attempt to be quiet, knowing only the most dangerous creatures would attack.

However, the beasts didn’t bother him as much as the knowledge that Mariel still stalked them while Kahkon lay helpless. And that in itself was a rockslide compared to the avalanche he’d discovered in the forest. Was the golden haired stranger responsible for the creatures? Could they have been an attempt to create wraithwolves? If so, how? From all his research, such an undertaking should only be possible in Hydae. And Hydae was sealed away from Denestia.

What was the Tribunal’s stake in all this? Could those among them who engineered his capture and torture so many years ago be involved in whatever plot was afoot? The old scars on his back ached with the thought, and he shuddered. He shut away the memory before it enveloped him.

Sakari raised his head from the boy’s body and peered off into the dark trees, silver eyes aglow.

“Is she still following?” Ryne asked, wishing for a different answer than what he knew would come.

“Yes,” Sakari answered from where he hovered over Kahkon. “She is staying quite a bit farther back than usual.”

The corner of Ryne’s lips curled, and he grunted his irritation. Kahkon whimpered, and Ryne’s back tightened at the sound. One tentative foot rose before he stopped himself, focusing instead on the rustles and furtive sounds among the trees.

“What are your plans for her now?” Sakari asked, poultices sopping with blood as he worked on Kahkon. Yips of a lapra sounded nearby followed by an answering growl.

“I don’t know. What I want to do is proving to be an unwise path to take. Carnas would only suffer,” Ryne confessed. He held the lamp up to peer among the trees in time to see dark fur and dog-like shapes disappear among the trees.

“If she is who she says she is, restraining yourself only serves to delay the inevitable.”

Ryne squeezed his eyes shut against the tightness in his chest as if mere sight could will away the truth behind Sakari’s words. If indeed Mariel was a Devout in the Tribunal’s employ, eventually one of the messages she sent every morning would include his description. If one had not already as the presence of the Alzari assassins seemed to suggest. If everything stayed true to his past, more assassins or worse, a cohort, would be dispatched to take him. Either way, his time in hiding was at an end.

Frustrated by his lack of options, Ryne growled. There was no telling which faction within the Tribunal Mariel represented. And he couldn’t simply ask. Added to that, using his power to capture her was not a viable option with his recent waning control. Drawing on his Scripts to destroy the shade’s abominations in the woods had brought him to the brink. Luckily, the killings had been enough to appease his power’s hunger.

“He’s safe for now,” Sakari said.

Ryne took in Kahkon’s pallid face. The boy writhed, but at least he seemed a deal calmer, his aura steady. With a relieved sigh, Ryne picked up his end of the litter, and they set out again, shadows cast by the lamplight chasing them.

“I do not believe the Tribunal sent those assassins for you. I think it was mere chance,”

“You know what I think of chance,” Ryne retorted.

“They failed too many times before. The Alzari have never seemed the type to risk men foolishly. If they indeed came for you, they would not send two assassins. And a cohort would require the Tribunal to seek permission of the Ostanian Kingdoms, no?”

“Yes,” Ryne agreed. Although he’d yet to find a connection, he still found himself wondering if Sakari’s knack for mirroring his thoughts had anything to do with their link. “But when has that ever stopped them? Besides, the negotiations would only give us but so much time.”

“Time enough to escape,” Sakari said.

Ryne’s mouth twisted with distaste. “And leave the villagers at Tribunal’s mercy? Abandon them to the Alzari or Amuni’s Children and the shade?”

“And if this is all Mariel’s doing?”

“Then she dies,” Ryne answered, leaves crunching underfoot like the crackle of a fire.

“The end result would be the same,” Sakari said.

Kahkon moaned and began another set of fitful mutters. Padded feet pattered among the trees followed by a whine that whispered through the still air. Ryne held the lamp out again. A svelte forest lapra slunk away from the light, its three-foot lichen-covered body fading into the undergrowth. Several similar forms slipped by at the edge of the lamp’s range followed by more low whimpers and snarls.