Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

With one last look at the sisters, he strode through the living room. Sakari detached himself from the wall following like Ryne’s own shadow. For a moment, Ryne thought about leaving a note, but he changed his mind. The women were used to him leaving for extended periods. Hopefully, they wouldn’t worry too much this time. When he returned, he would let them know it didn’t matter they were once bed warmers. He cared for them regardless. Sighing, he opened the door and stepped outside.

As usual the air was thick and humid. Dawn pricked the eastern horizon, the shaded gloom of thunderclouds blanketing the sky. Good, we’ll finally get some rain today. Gods know we need it.

Ryne spoke to Sakari without looking at him. “I didn’t think you would’ve felt that summons.”

“My affinity to what you feel has increased of late. I am sure you feel it too. Do you really think they will have the answers you seek?”

Ryne pondered the question for a moment. “They haven’t failed me so far. What have I got to lose?”

“Our freedom.”

“What sense is there in being free if I don’t know who I am? What my purpose is? Why this craving to kill thrives within me? My mind itself is a prison. Regardless, like you said, things are changing. I can feel it.” Ryne peered at the storm clouds. “The inconsistent weather, these mysterious women, the change in our link, the reappearance of Amuni’s Children and the wraithwolves. Maybe, answering the Svenzar’s summons is a part of this change.”

“What about the villagers?”

“Bertram and Hagan will know what to do should things worsen. I believe the elders will come to the right decision and at least have the women and children head to safety. Besides, with the way my power has acted recently, I hope the Svenzar can help bring me better control. I’ll need it to help Carnas. For their sakes and mine, I have little choice but to answer the calling.”

Face betraying no emotion, Sakari bowed, his silver-flecked, green pinpricks for eyes staring calmly back. Sometimes, Ryne still found himself wondering if the man had any insides.

“Come, let’s go,” Ryne said. “We’ll take the most direct path through the Mondros Forest.” He would have preferred to ride, but the trees in the deep rainforest and the treacherous Heights would hinder any mounts.

Without another word, Sakari started out across the Orchid Plains at a slow jog with Ryne trailing after him. Halfway across the plains, Ryne glanced over his shoulder.

A small figure moved away from Mariel’s camp in the distance behind them. For the first time, Ryne realized this trip provided him with a great opportunity to be rid of the woman.

Lightning flashed and highlighted Mariel’s form as she headed in their direction. Heartbeats later, thunder rumbled its defiant response and rain began to patter to the ground. The long awaited storm arrived.

Ancel marveled at the ebb and flow of the battle between the two men in the distant city. Dear Ilumni, I beg you, let your light bring victory. As the prayer crossed his mind, he licked his suddenly dry lips, before taking a quick glance around him. Calm down man, stop jumping at shadows. Yet, here in Hydae where the shade held sway he couldn’t help the fluttering in his stomach.

At that precise moment, citrine and emerald lightning skittered across the banks of char-colored clouds drawn to the conflict raging in the city. The flashes made Ancel’s gut lurch, and he gritted his teeth at the sky. Why was he here on this forsaken ledge exposed to the angry elements?

Ancel’s loose-fitting clothes flapped about him as the winds howled and swirled like a crowd decrying some terrible act before a revolt. Eddies snatched at his cloak in an effort to fling him from his rocky perch high above the vast black plains and forests. He took a slow breath and forced his stomach to near silence.

Elemental power continued to roil across the sky as if the gods of Streams and Flows battled for supremacy. Ancel could imagine them and their fear inspiring visages clad in the finest armors, only their sparkling eyes showing through slits in their helms.

On one side, there would be Ilumni and Amuni wielding light and shade representing the elements of Streams. Ilumni’s power resonated in the lightning flashes and in the wan afternoon sun. Amuni’s taint bubbled everywhere, from the foliage below, infected and decaying with his shade, to the darkness choking the air. Even the sun appeared diminished in Hydae.

On the opposite side, Ancel pictured the twin gods of Flows lashing out together; their power sending prickles across his skin as if he stood naked on the ledge. Aeoli commanded the void, using the air itself to form the storm winds. Hyzenki paired with his sister in the fight, breaking the thunderheads to make water join the fray. Black rain pelted down before howling winds whipped the drops sideways like arrows shot from a million bows.

A loud, piercing chime echoed from the city like steel screeching against stone. Something metallic flew into the air, Mater shooting from it in sparkling glows. The winds, rains, and clouds swirled into a gigantic maelstrom above the city-.

A sharp tap on Ancel’s head knocked him from his daydream.

“Ancel!” shouted Teacher Calestis, drawing her slim staff back.

Ancel shook his head as his eyes focused on his surroundings. The expectant gazes from the Teacher and several students of varied ages, from youthful like himself to wizened and bent-backed like Calestis, greeted him. Mirza leered at him from his bench across from Ancel, his gray eyes a reflection of his expression. Besides the benches filled with students and the Teacher’s chair and table, the only other furniture in the room were a few bookshelves. Two windows in the yellow brick walls looked out onto Eldanhill’s cobbled streets.

Teacher Calestis rapped her staff into the floor with a dull wood on wood crack. “If Nerian the Shadowbearer was a Devout-a priest bonded in heart and soul to Ilumni-why did he forsake the Lord of light and answer the shade’s call? Why did he turn to Amuni?” Several students raised their hands, but Calestis ignored them all. “Ancel,” she said, pointing a gnarled finger and scowling, “This question is yours. Since the Teachings bore you so much, you must know all the answers.”

“He was misled into believing his people were betrayed and massacred at the Tribunal’s command. He convinced himself the Skadwaz had somehow crossed from Hydae and delivered Amuni’s power to him. Blinded by rage, he sought revenge, resorting to the use of shadelings,” Ancel answered without hesitation.

Galiana’s golden eyes twinkled. “And how did he persuade the remainder of those loyal to the light to follow his lead.”

“By the sword. However, a few did support his cause willingly, convinced of their retribution. Those who resisted were forced to fight or die. Once many saw Nerian could stamp his name in history as the first to reunite the world and return Ostania to its former glory, they accepted his rule. They ignored that he now wielded shade and all its horrors to do his bidding.”

Calestis gave him a small smile. “Well done.”

As soon as Calestis’s attention shifted elsewhere, Ancel allowed his thoughts to drift back to his daydream. Why did he keep having these images of a land that existed only in the stories? What city was that with its sparkling spires and streets lined with colonnades and fountains? His dreams the night before had also included the green-eyed beasts and the kinai rotting in their glen. What were those creatures? Could they really have been wraithwolves? He’d thought about approaching Teacher Calestis, but his father’s warning prevented him from doing so. Ancel sighed. He wished he had someone he could confide in. Ever since Irmina left Eldanhill, he dreamed more often than before. Without her to talk to, little made sense.