Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

Ryne’s heart leaped. After so many years searching, he would take even a myth if it meant progress. After all, he was living proof myths held some semblance of truth. “Where? Can you show me the book?”

“It’s in the possession of the Tribunal at the Iluminus’ great library. I could request-” She stopped talking, her eyes narrowing as his body stiffened at the mention of the Tribunal.

Taking a deep breath of resignation, Ryne forced his body to relax. “Miss Adler?” He picked up his sword and sheathed it.

“Yes?” Miss Adler’s gaze met his.

“Please don’t mention-”

“You don’t need to say it. With Varick sending you like this, and your reaction, I know not to say anything to any Ashishin or to anyone else.” A pained expression crossed her face. “I still remember what I went through in my younger days when they found out I could imbue. Yet, only with their training did I finally understand my power. You’ll need to face that decision some day. I wish you the best when that day comes. To think I almost asked your name. Now, I’m glad I didn’t.”

He nodded, unlocked the door, and ducked outside.

Trudging through Felan Mark’s crowded streets did little for Ryne’s troubled thoughts. Here, he’d finally found some information which he hoped would lead to more about himself, and it was in the Tribunal’s hands. Years of fruitless searching boiled down to him having to deal with those he despised the most.

He let out a weary breath as he took in Felan Mark. The fortress city’s steel walls shone with the setting sun’s purplish hues. The same colors lit up the Barrier Mountains and their long dead volcanoes sprouting to the north. Ryne often wondered why the Felani built everything with metal in a land plagued by flash thunderstorms. Massive steel frames highlighted towers under construction around the city, and immense statues portraying Ilumni decorated the metal city’s central spire. Here and there, a person stopped among the bustling crowd to voice a brief prayer to the god of Streams.

The crowd gave Ryne ample space along the street’s flagstones. Being shunned felt strangely familiar even after so many years in Carnas. Many in the crowd murmured or gaped at his great size. Among the throng, Ryne could pick out the dark linen coats without buttons donned by Felani men, and the earth tones favored by their women in their airy cotton dresses. Their height and their favored braided hairstyles had drawn him to them in his search, but that led nowhere. Sprinkled among them were a few bald-headed Banai, slit-necked Cardians and Astocans, and he even spotted a huge Harnan, his skin the color of bronze.

The Granadians among them stood out, preferring brighter, often multicolored, brocaded silks, extravagant and frilly. The men’s patterned shirts and trousers and the form fitting breeches the women flaunted made the colorful garb of the Cardians seem dull by comparison. They kept their hair cropped neat and short, and a few heads were shaved on one side-a sign of nobility.

Peddlers shopped their wares, and criers yelled for attention as they announced one shop or another among the spice, fruit, and fabric storefronts lining this district. Patrons visited the various steel and iron buildings in steady streams. Despite the variety of peoples around him, more than Ryne’s great size stood out. In one town, long ago, the children called him tapestry man. Ryne smiled.

Foghorns from Felan Mark’s vast docks broke Ryne from his thoughts, the stench from offloaded composts rising strong on the warm air. Neither the salty sea spray nor the many smells from the spice vendors could hide it. Unnoticed, gray twilight had crept in as he walked. He narrowed his eyes and turned his attention ahead.

Sakari’s link bloomed in Ryne’s mind. The man, who now looked like a typical Felani, tall and thin, eased his way through the shoppers and vendors alike. “You have company, and it is not her. From the markings they have disguised, they may be Alzari.”

“I see. Wait for me at the gates.”

Sakari melted into the crowds. Moments later, the link broke.

Ryne made purposeful stops at several vendors, haggling with them then storming off in a huff. Soon, he was able to tell who followed him. Their auras roiled with the same tainted shade he’d seen from the Alzari in the Fretian Woods. He counted ten in all. His brow furrowed. Could it really be them? Here in the city? How? He continued to walk as if he didn’t notice them.

From the corner of his eye, an aura fraught with light bloomed. It flared brighter than any other within his range. The aura followed those tracking him.

Irmina had returned.

Ryne hurried toward the stables. The last thing he needed was to draw more attention than he already commanded. If there was to be a fight, he couldn’t risk such a battle within the city. Especially if he lost control. There was no Entosis close by if he were to expend as much Mater as he did against the shadelings. He would need to give his power its due if he failed to restrain himself. He glanced behind him to see the Alzari split up. Two trailed him. Behind them, Irmina followed.

When he reached the large stables, one of the few stone buildings in Felan Mark, he paid the stable master and checked on Thumper while tracking his pursuers. Easing farther into the stall, Ryne waited for the two men who followed him to enter the stables. As he continued his inspection of Thumper’s chain bit and reins, he watched without drawing attention to himself as the Alzari hurried to their own dartans. Satisfied, Ryne mounted just as the Irmina entered.

Their gazes met for a brief moment. The woman’s brown eyes narrowed, but she made no move toward him. Instead, she rushed in the opposite direction toward another line of dartans.

Ryne shook Thumper’s reins, and the dartan mewled before plodding to the stable’s wide entrance and out. Without a backward glance, he headed toward Felan Mark’s gargantuan main gates along a road reserved for riding. This close to moonrise, few riders traveled the flagstoned streets in the direction of Felan Mark’s gates, so he made good time.

“Are you certain you want to leave at this time o’ night?” drawled a Dagodin guard at the gates. The man gave Ryne’s armor and sword a long look over.

“Yes. I’m sure I can get hired on with them.” Ryne motioned to a heavily guarded supply caravan the Dagodin were allowing to pass through a wider than normal sally gate.

“I guess. It’s your life.” The man shook his head, signaled, and let Ryne by.

A few hundred feet from the walls, Sakari waited. When Ryne reached him, his companion leaped onto Thumper’s back behind Ryne and shifted around for a moment before he settled down.

The caravan peeled off toward the east, following the Felan Road, while Ryne headed north toward the Barrier Mountains silhouetted in the distance. Thumper picked up speed until he flew by the sandy plain’s sparse grasses and shrubs. The first deep hollow that hid them from Felan Mark’s towers soon came upon them, and Ryne stopped. He stared back toward the city.

Behind him, the ten Alzari left the gates, riding hard. Soon after came Irmina’s aura.

A tingling sensation ran through Ryne’s body as battle energy filled him. He tilted his head back, a grin spreading across his face at the sensation. With a last look at the oncoming mercenaries, he wheeled Thumper and rode toward the mountainous foothills.

Irmina followed the dust clouds from the men hunting Ryne toward the Barrier Mountains, flying by short, hardy grasses decorating the red and beige sands in faded browns and greens. Days had passed since the last of the areas common thunderstorms, and despite her light linen and cotton fabrics, sweat trickled down her temple. She pulled her scarf up to protect her from the flying dust. Misty sped across the undulating plains with such ease Irmina had to hold back so she wouldn’t catch up to the bandits.