Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

Irmina gave him a sullen look and opened her mouth before snapping it closed again. Face red, she stood quietly.

With a nod at her acquiescence, Ryne said, “You two help me get these bodies into the fire. I’ll leave nothing the shade could possibly use.”

As quickly as they could, they dragged the bodies, piling them around the fire. When they were finished, Ryne embraced Mater and stoked the fire’s essences. Clothes, armor, and flesh burst into flames, spewing out a heated backwash and smoke that reeked of the substances the fire consumed. Within moments, the corpses of the Alzari were nothing more than charred, oily ash, and the flames had diminished. Ryne kicked shale over the fire until it sputtered and died.

“Mount up, let’s go,” Ryne ordered. “And remember to watch what you say, Irmina.”

Torches lit the Setian convoy when they joined them on the other side of the hill. The winding line of dartans and lights stretched ahead. Ryne and the others rode up to the front next to Edsel and Garon. At a slow walk, they headed deeper into the mountains with the daggerpaws and their handlers bringing up the rear.

“Edsel, I still can’t believe you’re the Barrier bandits. Why the raids?” Ryne asked.

“Did the Setian ever need a reason for slaughtering innocent people?” Irmina scoffed.

Ryne shook his head.

A scowl twisting his face, Edsel made a point of ignoring Irmina. “At first, we needed to keep our people supplied until we could survive on our own. But that was long ago. Since then, we’ve carved our own lives out of this harsh land. We’ve had scouts return from Ranoda, Astoca, and the Alzari clanholds. We know of Amuni’s Children and the shadeling armies. Every raid we’ve done has been on supplies meant for them. None else. Some who died may have appeared innocent, yes, but they were helping Amuni’s Children. Whether they knew it or not makes no difference.”

“How noble of you,” Irmina said mockingly. “If not for your people, the shade wouldn’t have a toehold on these lands.”

Ryne sighed. The woman didn’t know when to shut up.

“It’s obvious you cannot see past what lies you were taught. You only see the picture’s frame instead of the delicate artwork.” Edsel shook his head. “Although your argument does have some validity, there’s much you don’t know. The Setian were in some ways responsible for the shade’s coming. In turn, without the Shadowbearer’s advance, Granadia too, would have fallen to the shade.”

“So now you would have me believe your kind saved us? Ha.”

Edsel tilted his head, his gold and silver eye unblinking as he studied her. He offered no reply as they weaved their way up into a narrow, rock-strewn pass scattered with occasional giant boulders. The Setian traveled between the mountainous silhouettes looming around them with the surefootedness of a well-known path.

After a few moments’ silence, Edsel pointed to his face and throat, then to his people riding ahead. “Here is my reminder of my people’s failure, but also of the torture yours inflicted on mine. This is all that’s left of a once thriving people. So save your talk about slaughter and reasons for someone else. You Granadians are no more innocent than we, even if you fail to see it.”

A sneer twisted Irmina’s features. “Your people destroyed your own, and killed thousands of mine. You wiped out most of Ostania with your conquest-”

“Did we? Or did the shade?” Edsel sounded as if he were chastising a naughty child. “Were your people any less the executioners? Let me guess, your vaunted history books tell you different. I see the Tribunal has perfected the business of poisoning young minds.”

Irimina’s voice rose. “My people?” Eyes ablaze, her voice sizzled with hatred. “My parents were Felani. Your people killed most of my family with your invasion. How can you defend what you did? Countless innocents, countless Ashishin and Dagodin slaughtered. Your people, under the Shadowbearer’s banner did that. You abandoned Ilumni and served Amuni. What did you expect? Mercy? Your people deserve to be wiped from Denestia.”

Garon hissed and reached for his axe.

“Don’t Garon,” Edsel said, his voice quiet. “Beastsinger, there’s much for you to learn. You rage against us with righteousness, but do your people really follow the Streamean Tenets?”

Ryne thought about Halvor. Why did he make me repeat light’s Tenets? Could anyone follow all the Tenets without breaking one?

Edsel continued before Irmina answered, his tone almost conversational. “Many Setian killed were fleeing the shade and Nerian. Those of us who didn’t turn were forced into the Shadowbearer’s war. But then you know this, or you should. His armies held our children and the elderly hostage. We either had to fight or watch them die. I witnessed my children suffer, flayed limb by limb. What would’ve been your choice?”

Irmina’s body shook, and she opened her mouth.

“What he says is true,” Ryne said. “I wasn’t a part of the war, but I saw what came after. Many Setian died by my own hand after I joined one of the Dagodin cohorts hunting them down. We slaughtered them by the thousands.” Never again. “But just as many Setian were innocent, not turned by the shade. I fought against killing the innocent, but the Granadians wanted retribution. So did the other Ostanian tribes. They intended to kill every Setian and wipe the land of Seti from the map.

“One day, we came upon Edsel’s clan hiding within some marshes and swamps. We hunted them down, dragged them out, and lined them up. Edsel begged for mercy. He spoke of all his clan had suffered in their efforts to refuse serving the Shadowbearer’s purpose. I could see they were good people. I begged the soldiers to stop, but they began to kill the men first. Then they raped the women and children. The muddy marsh waters ran red with blood.” The visions of that day spilled through Ryne’s head. Never again.

Ryne’s voice was as hollow as an empty grave. “What they did was no better than what the Setian and the shade’s minions had done. Finally, I could take no more. I intervened, and in doing so, was forced to kill several Ashishin and Dagodin to help Edsel escape.”

“Why would you help murderers?” Irmina's high-pitched voice broke in. “They wiped out whole cities! They deserved no better than they received.”

Several Setian paused or stopped. Edsel flicked his hand out, and they continued riding.

“Because,” Ryne answered, “The killing needed to stop, Irmina. Who did the children-the babies-kill? It needed to stop. For the sake of all the people, not just yours or theirs.”

“I still remember those days.” Edsel’s soft hissing voice echoed in the pass. “We ran for weeks, fighting, dying, eluding regular soldiers, Dagodin and Ashishin alike. A month later, we reached Coronad Port and took a ship. But the Tribunal’s armies caught us. I took as many as I thought we needed to start anew. Lightbringer stayed with my people who volunteered to defend the docks in order for our ship to escape. Four High Ashishin arrived and the massacre of the remnants of my people began, until Ryne alone battled them. Then he was gone from sight. I still don’t know what happened after that, Lightbringer. I’ve heard stories, but they always seem more legend than life.”

Irmina’s wide eyes regarded Ryne. “You alone stopped four High Ashishin?” she whispered.

Ryne held her gaze for a moment before she looked away. “Me and Sakari. We fought until the barriers Edsel’s people had Forged gave out and exhaustion took us. I was ready to accept death then. I deserved it for the lives I took. They sent me before the Tribunal, and although they condemned me to death, the High Ashishin didn’t kill me. Instead, they imprisoned me in the Iluminus for years. I didn’t see Sakari again until later, but I could feel him being tortured. The things they did to him…”