Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

He remained silent for a moment before he continued. “As for me, they tried torturing me into telling them how my power worked. Day after day, they beat me with divya whips. They tried to strip the skin from my flesh to inspect my Scripts. When that wouldn’t work, they beat me some more. Then they mended me and started all over again.” Ryne shuddered as the lashes from the whips seared fresh across his flesh.

Irmina’s face held a pitiless expression. “You killed Ashishin and fought alongside the Setian-”

Ryne cut her off. “No matter how I tried, I couldn’t grasp Mater to defend myself. It seemed always out of my reach.”

“No…” Irmina’s face that seconds ago was red with anger and contempt paled to a pasty white. “They wouldn’t.”

“I found out later they had Warped the Mater around me, twisting the elements so I couldn’t touch them.”

“But, Warping requires sela,” Irmina said slowly. “They would need to have killed someone to gather the power to work such a Forging. One person’s sela could maybe Warp enough Mater for a week. If they kept you imprisoned for years, then hundreds of people…Oh, Ilumni.” Tears came to her eyes.

The pain etched on Irmina’s face reminded Ryne of his own shame for the atrocities he’d committed. He wished he knew a way to console her because his next words would make her feel no better. “When they saw the torture wouldn’t work, they brought in scholars to study me. They too were left stumped. A few months later, a High Ashishin visited me escorted by several of his Pathfinders. My Scripts raged out of control at their presence, threatening to destroy the Warping because I saw these men for what they were. Those men, supposed servants of Ilumni, were all under the shade’s influence.”

“Another High Ashishin and Pathfinders serving Amuni? Like Nerian? No, no that cannot be.” Irmina’s voice was a mere shell.

Ryne shook his head. “It’s true. I tried to tell the guards but they didn’t listen. They said I was mad. Then he had my guards replaced with his own.”

Edsel studied Irmina for a moment, a smug expression on his face. “So you see, everything is not always what it seems to be. Even among your own people.”

Irmina returned a stunned look. Her mouth opened and closed, but she uttered no words.

They reached end of the pass and entered a valley. Below them, thick grass and large trees hugged the slopes. A river’s rushing waters sounded in the dark.

Appearing to have recovered her senses somewhat, Irmina asked, “How…How did you escape?”

“There came another meeting with the Tribunal. They decided that instead of killing me, they would put me to use. My new punishment was to help purge Ostania of both the Setian and the shade beyond the Vallum. The next day, the tainted High Ashishin returned with his Pathfinders. They chained me in divya chains and put me on a ship with Sakari. For weeks, we sailed with them only bringing me up once a week for fresh air. I fought madness daily, with my Scripts feeling as if they wanted to tear off my skin. Every time they took me upstairs, I opened myself to my Scripts. I learned that although I couldn’t grasp Mater; my Scripts could, but I would need to give in to them. I allowed them to store as much essences as they craved.

“During the trip the High Ashishin studied me for hours on end. Three months into our journey, I overheard the guards mention we were soon at our destination. But I knew they would never take me to the Dagodin and Ashishin armies. So, the next time they brought me up for air. I let my Scripts loose.

“To this day, I’ve never felt such power. It almost tore my soul and my body apart. I still cannot remember what happened. Somehow, I woke floating in the sea on a piece of driftwood left from the ship. Through my Scripts, I drew my armor and my sword to myself and swam to shore. Sakari found me there soon after. He nursed me back to health.”

“That part of the sea still glows today,” Edsel said. “You can see it from Felan Mark’s towers. From what I felt that day, Lightbringer, I suspected you were alive.”

Ryne gave Edsel a small smile. “In my attempt to escape across the Vallum I ended up at Knight Commander Varick’s encampment during a shadeling attack. Sakari and I helped him fight, saving thousands. He vouched for us and we earned a partial pardon. Afterward, we were offered a full pardon if we served the Tribunal in its endeavors here in Ostania. As my power craved to fight the shade, I accepted.”

Ryne became deathly silent. Farther north, grasslands and forest sloped gradually until he could no longer see them. The Vallum of Light rose at that end of the valley, its glow dominating the land in the distance.

Edsel called for a stop near the forest. The daggerpaw handlers fanned out into the dense trees. Several other Setian dismounted and followed the handlers, torches bobbing about within the woods.

“This is why I said the Chronicles must have a hand in your being here, Lightbringer,” Edsel said. “I always knew you lived. I felt it in my heart. When my son described you, I had to come to see for myself. Come, we’re here.”

Ryne smiled. He still remembered Edsel’s constant mention of the Chroniclers. I searched for over twenty years, my old friend, and not once did I find proof of the great record keepers of history. Just rumor upon rumor of their existence.

Garon dismounted and helped his father down. Ryne, Sakari and Irmina also dismounted. They followed Garon through the long grasses and into the dark forest, sweet scents of blooming flowers and the chirping of insects greeting them. Two daggerpaw handlers flanked the group on each side. The men’s heads moved from side to side as if they expected an attack at any moment. Irmina’s hand strayed close to her sword.

Edsel gestured around the valley as he hobbled. “This valley is one of the few fertile ones in this part of the Barrier Mountains. No one would’ve ever suspected the Setian of being here. After all, we’re all under the shade’s influence.” He cast a quick glance and a wry smile at Irmina.

She met his gaze for a moment, and then she looked at the ground, her pale cheeks flushed.

As they progressed through the woods along a path lit by torches and lamps, Ryne opened his Matersense. The forest came alive around him, the essences swirling in multiple eddies. A breeze picked up, but this time the flower scents were gone. Instead, a fetid, moldy stench assaulted Ryne’s nostrils. His eyes narrowed.

Irmina sniffed. “What’s that smell?”

“That’s the reason for all the torches and lamps. The reason we now stay together at all times. The reason we brought you here,” Edsel’s voice hissed.

Battle energy flooded Ryne.

Irmina’s hand darted to her sword’s hilt. Garon snatched one of his axes, clearing the clasp on his hip before his foot landed with his next step. Ryne stepped in between them.

“Stop it,” Ryne ordered, his outstretched arms keeping them apart. “If they meant us harm, there’d be no need to drag us all the way out here.” Ryne held Irmina’s small hand against her hilt so she couldn’t draw the sword.

After a moment, tension eased from her flushed face, she relaxed her grip, and he released her hand. Still glaring at her, Garon put away his axe. Ryne took his hands from the man’s chest.

They continued forward, the decaying, moldy stench growing stronger as they advanced. Ahead, lamps hung from branches, lighting up the forest. Pines and oaks appeared, leaves frail and gray, trunks sporting rotted, discolored masses. The flowers and plants close by were wilted and brown. Edsel led them past the line of unhealthy trees into wide, open land.