Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

The gravity of the news she brought crawled within her as she entered the building. Before long, her hurried footsteps became a run. Several winding stairs later, she reached the well-guarded communication center.

The room’s rough-hewn, feldspar and steel blocks rose into a dome far above her head. As with the passage, no lamps hung along the walls, but the room was bright all the same. A lone man, with a round, too-smooth face, wearing a long robe with colorful sashes embroidered in diagonal patterns that identified him as an Ashishin Herald studied the message map on the floor.

This was not her first time inside a Bastion, but she still found herself muttering prayers to Ilumni and casting glances at the glowing walls around her. Sometimes, the light felt like a great weight upon her, and she would rub her shoulders. The feeling diminished the longer she remained inside the Bastion. She waited to the side as the Herald studied the message map. Every so often, he stopped to stroke his thin, forked beard, which was in odd counterpoint to his cheeks and even rounder bald head.

Created from metal, wood, and stone, the map spanned almost the entire floor. Life-like replicas of the cities and other important locations jutted into the air inches off the stone. They appeared real and solid as if she could reach out and touch them. If she did, her hands would just pass through them. Irmina didn’t need to open her Matersense to see that an intricate Forge created the effect. Like almost everything else within the Bastion, the message map was a divya.

Lightstones in various colors gave off a sharp gleam, highlighting the major cities in Granadia. Others matched the location of every Bastion along the Vallum as well as those built within Granadia. Lesser lights between the cities moved on their own accord, following Envoys’ movements. Across the entire message system, every map and their stones were designed from the same divya . This intricate network never ceased to amaze her.

Irmina made sure to remain a few feet from the map. Heralds took their jobs to heart and considered it blasphemous for anyone not of their own calling to tread upon their work. She’d thought about becoming a Herald once, until her calling showed her another path.

The man continued to study the map, ignoring her presence. Every time he moved, his robes flowed around him and made the sashes appear to swirl all the way to just below his waist. Irmina tapped her foot and coughed.

Herald Bodo looked up from the map. “Ah. Shin Irmina.” He signaled to the two Dagodin standing just inside the door. “Leave us and close the door behind you.” The men bowed and did as asked. Bodo waited a moment with his eyes closed. When he opened them again, he took her in with a wry smile and a twinkle in his silver-blue eyes. “I see you’ve done away with that farce of a Devout uniform. Does Jerem approve or will I be visiting you chained to a wall? I’m sure the old coot must have had a heart attack.”

Irmina smiled. Bodo was one of few she ever heard speak of her master in anything close to affection. Most others simply cowered. “He doesn’t know yet. That’s to be part of my message. I fear the rest isn’t so pleasing.”

“Well, considering if your wearing a Raijin uniform when you haven’t graduated yet is to be considered ‘pleasing’, I cannot imagine what other ill tidings you bear.”

She told Bodo about the little she discovered about Ryne, before she gave him the news of the attack on Ranoda by the shadeling army and Amuni’s Children. Herald Bodo handled it well, nodding and grunting while stroking his forked beard. When she relayed her rescue by Tae and the message the old woman wanted her to deliver to their master, Herald Bodo’s face paled. He paced back and forth across his message map, his robes swishing through the replicas in colorful swirls as if they didn’t exist.

“May Ilumni help us all,” he uttered when she finished.

“I understand shadeling creation shouldn’t be possible in Denestia, and the chance of one among them being as strong as a High Ashishin is daunting for sure. But we should be able to handle this if we act now,” Irmina insisted.

Herald Bodo paused for a moment, listened, shook his head then continued pacing and muttering to himself.

“Bodo?”

“You don’t understand just how dire our situation is, do you?” He stopped pacing for a moment before he began again.

“Actually, I think I do, after all she told me. Why else would she have risked Materialization to get me here so fast?”

The Herald paused again at the mention of Tae’s Materialization Forge. His mutterings grew more pronounced. “You’re the closest we have to this situation. I would risk telling you, but not without our master’s permission. A moment, if you will.” He stepped onto the path built around the map.

Irmina embraced her Matersense. As if a fog lifted before her eyes, all around her came alive with new clarity. The walls of the Bastion thrummed with essences so bright she squinted. On the message map itself, essences matching those that made up the actual cities filled their ethereal counterparts. Mater flowed from point to point like blood running through veins. And Herald Bodo manipulated them all.

The Forging he made was so complex she lost track of the strings of essences in their intricacy. As usual, her own power surged within her, begging for release. Already within the Eye, she ignored it. Control was hers, and she wouldn’t relinquish her hold. The scale of Bodo’s Forging built to incomprehensible proportions. Irmina felt her bonds begin to weaken, and her resolve grew tenuous. Before she could lose control, she cut off her Matersense. Everything faded to a pale, washed out version of what she’d witnessed, and the essences vanished.

Bodo’s ragged gasps made Irmina look toward the man. “What was that all about? Do you need to use that much power for a message?”

“No,” Bodo said, still breathing heavily. “But in order to hide this particular message, it had to be done. No one can see what I sent except Jerem.”

“What now?”

“We wait. His answer-” Bodo paused, his eyes trained on the map. “Ah, permission has been granted.”

Irmina frowned. What could be so important all of this needed to be done?

Bodo paced back and forth again.“Where to start? Where to start?” he said to himself.

Irmina swallowed. “He wants me to get rid of the Raijin uniform doesn't he?”

“Actually, no. He didn't bother with that.”

“He didn't?” Irmina gave a slight shake of her head. Her work entailed the use of many a disguise, but anything above a Devout's garb, from Raijin to Exalted, was expressly forbidden and punishable by a pain penance at the very least.

Bodo stopped pacing. “Ah. What do you know of the Eztezians?”

“History was never my area of expertise, Bodo.”

“Still what do you remember from your schooling.”

Irmina shrugged. “They were the appointed Guardians of Denestia responsible for sealing the gods in the Nether. The very same gods that appointed them. Later, driven insane by their own power, they fought against each other and brought about the Great Divide in which they almost destroyed the world. What do they have to do with anything? They’re long dead.”

Bodo’s eyes twinkled, and he gave her a knowing smile. “Therein is your first mistake. Not all the Eztezians are dead. And they weren’t just the Guardians of Denestia. They were the direct descendants of our so called gods and also their Battleguards.”

Irmina tried to grasp the concept of humans being the gods’ Battleguards. “So you’re telling me every scholar, every book, every school, every story about the Eztezians’ existence are all wrong?”