Empire of Night

Chapter Seventeen

The Report

In the small hours of the morning, Rhydian paced before the grand arches of Mistwatch’s wyndgate. Despite his lightheadedness, he rehearsed the events of his report in his mind. He had done so countless times already, scrutinizing each and every detail, determining what he might have to alter or omit, depending on who it was he spoke with. There had been little else to do as he’d lain awake throughout the night, cursing himself for allowing his frustration to get the better of him.

Activating Oraena’s unmarked wynstone yesterday had been easy. Thrilling, even. However, once the high had worn off, he was not half as confident as he had been in the heat of the moment. The thought of actually contacting those involved had his stomach tying itself in knots. His hands trembled, breath constricted and more often than not, he found himself toying with the stone in order to soothe the incessant shaking.

At best, he had broken protocol and circumvented the whole of Talhavar command. At worst? He may have unwittingly contacted some unknown enemy of Oryllia. While he believed the evidence leaned toward the former, it was difficult to fully silence his more conspiratorial thoughts. The idea of some foreign agent infiltrating their ranks terrified him and he had to remind himself the truth was likely far less dramatic. If he had truly uncovered some false front and inadvertently revealed it during his initial report, he imagined events would have played out far differently. There would have been interviews, sworn accounts and official investigations, not hollow promises, denials and outright dismissals.

In truth, he felt foolish for even entertaining such outlandish thoughts in the first place, but he had learned stress was a fickle creature. Once he took the time to think and approach the matter from a more rational angle, he understood why a mission like this would have been kept quiet and why information would not have been freely given to him, especially by a mere communication relay. The operators likely knew even less than he did. Of course there would be no record of active Talhavar near Mistwatch. The Firstwing agents, whoever they actually were, had been tasked with a mission of utmost secrecy. Any information surrounding the affair would have been kept as far from the general ranks as possible. No records, no trace, no liabilities.

Rhydian and his flight were the only exception and even then, there were fewer than a dozen who knew what had actually happened out in the Wilds. He knew the implications of the fact all too well and just how easy it would be to cover up any involvement or loose ends. But he had been down that line of thought before. If he had any chance of sparing himself and his flight, he had to approach this meeting as an opportunity, rather than a damnation. This would likely be his first and only chance to explain himself, the situation, and how it had all gone awry.

During the long, restless hours he’d spent piecing together his thoughts, he had come to the conclusion both dyads had vastly underestimated their opponent. Whether it was due to genuine ignorance or some lowered perception of risk due to the woman’s shackled spirit, he could not say for certain. It had likely been a combination of both, for the woman had been wholly other in every conceivable way. She had even spawned another in her image. Though, Inerys was another matter entirely. One he wasn’t quite sure how to approach.

Depending upon the outcome of this meeting, she may not be his problem to handle much longer. A part of him hoped she wouldn’t be. He was fairly certain whomever he would speak with would either be a close underling of the Talhavar Elder Council, or Elders themselves. Subordinates, he could handle, but upper command was another matter entirely. He had met them once, on the day of his graduation from the academy, and the memory alone chased a shiver up his spine. While they were not upon the level of true sovereigns, they had still reached Ascensions most could only dream of attaining. To stand in their presence had been as intimidating as it was awe-inspiring and the possibility of drawing their ire chilled Rhydian to his core.

What would he do if all three saw fit to speak with him? His fingers grew clammy at the thought. Had this been a mistake? Had he acted too soon? One did not simply bypass the Talhavar hierarchy without repercussion, regardless of the situation. There was a structure, an order, proper procedure. At this point, demotion would likely be the least of his concerns. To say nothing of the potential fall out of the operation in question.

Rhydian grit his teeth and pulled the stone from his pocket. The whole ordeal had been impossible from the start. What choice did he truly have in any of it? Given the circumstances, going around his superiors had become necessary, in his mind, but others may yet disagree. Justified or no, he had overstepped.

Regardless of what happened next, there was no changing the past. He had announced himself to whomever was responsible for setting this all in motion. All he could do now was attempt to mitigate the damage. He had been named firstrider of Mistwatch for a reason and it was time he composed himself accordingly. He could contemplate his own fate later.

With a resigned sigh, he turned his attention toward the dormant gate. The cool, listless granite absorbed what meager light filtered in through the surrounding windows. Its high arches dominated the room, each occupying an entire edge of the hexagonal foundation. The construct was set several feet into the floor and one had to descend several wide stairs to reach the sunken rostrum in the center. It afforded ample space to host several individuals at once, though would accommodate but one, once the dawn broke.

Rhydian stepped up to the control pedestal beside the first arch, palming the unmarked wyndstone that would act as the bridge between Mistwatch and whomever waited upon the other end. Iridescent blue smoke drifted in slow, idle currents within its opaque surface, awaiting his order. He hesitated, fingers curling. All it would take was a thought.

Tanuzet’s mind touched his, offering a certain, comforting warmth.

I’m here, she promised.

He leaned into her presence for a spell offering an appreciative mental nudge in return. At least he was not in this alone.

Steeling himself, he imbued the stone and set it within the metal notch of the pedestal’s upward facing plate. With a soft click, the construct set. The dormant sigil script flared to life with a low hum and crisp, white light streaked down the intricate metal line work of the pillar-like structure. It spread throughout the foundation and up into the arches themselves, bathing the room in a soft,watery glow.

For a moment, he stood in its shadow. His hands were shaking again, his throat constricting to the point of pain. Nevertheless, he forced a deep breath past the obstruction and into his lungs. He was a firstrider, not some fresh recruit. He would not allow his nerves to unravel now, not when he was so close.

Dawn broke through a distant window.

Rolling his shoulders, he stepped down into the heart of the gate and took his place. He clasped his hands behind his back and waited. Yet, nothing happened. The gates were active, yet idle. The back of his neck grew tacky as the minutes crawled by.

Nothing.

He broke into a cold sweat, glancing off toward the pedestal. What if he had been wrong? If no one answered his call . . .

Energy pulsed through the room, reverberating through his core and into his bones. The arch before him thrummed, the linework of white light darkening to a deep azure hue as the connection bridged. Vaporous threads of silver-streaked violet slithered out from the structure’s inner edge, licking the stone like narrow tongues of flame. They whispered to him, though the words were distant and soon lost to the tapestry of night now occupying the space within the arch. He found himself staring into the twilight as if through an open doorway, much like his annex.

It shifted and undulated like a silken tapestry, though quickly began to warp and distort as the figure of a woman took shape. The gentle waves around her gradually gained definition and texture, revealing a thick, boundless mane of deepest merlot. The woman’s amber skin burned with the radiance of a newborn sun, dimming the once brilliant diamonds of her hair to mere twinkles in the sand. And her face–

Rhydian sucked in a breath.

Blackness crept in along the edges of his vision and he swore he felt the world tilt. The walls pressed in from all sides and the ground surged upward. The weight of the woman’s attention threatened to bow his shoulders and smother what resolve he had left. He fixed his gaze upon the floor, unwilling, unable, to move. He dared not breathe. In those moments, he wished the whole of the Elder Council had been brought upon him instead. He would gladly face their judgment in place of her’s. In place of a sovereign.

Sky’s mercy.

His head grew light, thoughts dazed.

Easy, Tanuzet soothed, despite her own alarm.

He thumped his right fist over his heart and dropped to one knee.

“High Wardeness,” he breathed.

Though his eyes remained upon the floor at his feet, his awareness sensed her stillness, her appraisal.

“Rhydian ne’Tanuzet, I presume?” She asked, her smooth, honeyed voice laced with what might have been amusement.

“Yes, my Lady,” he said, cursing himself as he sought a proper response, “I– It is an honor to stand in your presence, Lady of Dreams.”

Her chuckle was light, “Rise, please. There is no need to stand on ceremony, firstrider. You called and I have answered. Tell me, what news have you of our mutual interest?”

A cool, invisible caress glided across the underside of his jaw in silent invitation and slowly, Rhydian willed his body to obey.

He rose and bowed his deference. While he was not quite sure how to compose himself in her presence, he wanted to offer his respect. He had been prepared to address the Talhavar, not one of the most powerful women in Zardaress, the High Wardeness, herself. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure where to begin. His prior rehearsals had all but abandoned him.

Eventually, he said, “Oraena ne’Malys and Thylas ne’Kiraht are dead, my Lady. As is my thirdrider.”

Her flowing curls rippled, writhing like a bed of snakes for the span of a heartbeat, yet her elfin face betrayed nothing beyond a soft furrowing of her brow.

“Dead?”

He considered his next words carefully. Thus far, he had only spoken of the matter in veiled terms even among those who had borne witness to the events of the last few days. In a way, doing so had made it seem less real. Speaking plainly would finally strip away the lie. The truth was a cruel, ugly thing, but the reality of it needed to be addressed, even if it pained him.

“Yes, my Lady,” he said, “Two days ago, Thylas ne’Kiraht arrived at Mistwatch stating he had been sent from the First Wing to see us through a training exercise. We were led to believe a suspect had been tracked into the area; a woman, shackled, but to be considered dangerous. Myself, as well as my second, third and forthrider, were tasked with providing aerial support and instructed not to engage unless necessary while the two ranking dyads approached the target from the ground.”

He forced himself to breathe. The sights, the sounds, all came flooding back. Iron stung his nose upon a phantom breeze, turning his gut. A tremor shivered through his fingers and his grip on his hands tightened.

“Shortly after they cornered the subject, it became evident the training exercise was a ruse. The wyverns turned on one another and in the confusion, Thylas and Oraena were ambushed. By the time Tanuzet and I landed, the suspect had fled toward the Breadth. Kiraht, Malys and Oraena were already dead.”

The woman’s star-flecked eyes sharpened. “What of Thylas?”

“He was mortally wounded, but alive when I found him,” he said, voice briefly catching, He– He entrusted his silver arrows to my care and bound me to his oath before he passed. From there, their mission became mine.”

Her shrewd gaze turned to open assessment, as if she were studying some new facet of him she had only now noticed.

“I see,” she said, seemingly distracted as she searched his face. “To accept the oath of a dying man is no small thing. What compelled you to take it?”

He had been asking himself the same question. He could have let the man die. Ultimately, Thylas could not have forced Rhydian into the oath even if he wanted to, yet he had agreed without question. In the moment, he hadn’t truly seen it as a choice.

“The woman needed to be stopped, my Lady,” he said, setting his jaw, “I was simply carrying out my duty.”

She inclined her head. “Did you know the extent of what you were facing?”

“Between the nature of his weaponry and the ease in which she . . . killed them, I suspect she was of her seventh Ascension or higher.”

“Curious. And you yourself are at what, your fifth?”

“As of this past year, yes.”

“Those were hardly favorable odds,” she noted.

“No,” he agreed, “but the silver arrows gave me hope I might stand a chance, my Lady. I had intended on pursuing her alone, but my team insisted upon joining me. Together, we chased the woman into the Endari Wilds themselves and were eventually able to subdue her.”

“But not without casualties?”

He forced down the memory of Ephaxus’ screams, the blood dripping from the woman’s claws . . .

He swallowed.

Hard.

“My thirdrider was killed in the exchange and her bonded wyvern incapacitated.”

He could see the thousand questions in her eyes, yet she did not voice them. Instead, her expression turned to one of genuine concern. “You have my condolences, firstrider.”

He shifted his weight where he stood, uncertain. “Thank you, my Lady.”

His words hung in the air between them, until the Wardeness asked, “She was your first kill, wasn’t she?”

Unable to find his voice, he nodded.

“The feeling will fade with time. Taking a life is never easy, even when necessary.”

Her implication struck a chord.

“I do not regret my actions,” he said, teeth grit.

Tanuzet’s low growl rumbled just beyond the chamber door.

The woman raised a single, perfect brow.

“My only regret is that I could not end her before she tore my friend apart. I should have been faster. I should have–”

He wasn’t sure what he could have done differently that would have made a difference and he hated himself for it. Realizing his lapse, he drew a deep breath and recomposed himself.

“Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” she said, “You and yours have never been battle tested. To have engaged the monster you did and escape not only alive, but victorious, is nothing short of astonishing.”

It didn’t feel astonishing.

Still, he bowed his head and forced himself to say. “Thank you, Wardeness. You honor me.”

To his surprise, she dipped her head in turn.

“You succeeded where your superiors could not, Rhydian. For that, you have my gratitude, but I am afraid I must ask more of you.”

He had anticipated as much.

“I am at your service,” he said.

“Did you retrieve the body?”

He nodded, “Stored within my annex, along with the dyads.”

Whatever their true names were. Despite his curiosity, he knew better than to press this woman for questions. One did not demand explanations of sovereigns, but perhaps she might offer them in time.

“Good. What did Thylas tell you?” She asked, embracing her position as sovereign.

The shift in her tone startled him.

“He gave no reasonings or explanations, my Lady, even in his dying moments. I was tasked with slaying the woman and nothing more.”

“That may be so,” she said, “but you’re sharp. Thylas’ confidence was not misplaced. By now, I’m sure you’ve pieced together this mission’s importance?”

He hesitated.

“Your dyads went to great lengths to keep the true nature of their operation a secret. They wouldn’t have done so without due cause.”

She seemed to stare through him and into his very Soul. If he focused deep enough, he thought he could feel her scouring about his mind. There would be no hiding anything from this woman.

“Indeed. I trust you handled your part with equal discretion?”

“Yes, my Lady. Those who bore witness to the event have been oathbound and no word has been shared beyond them.”

The weight of her scrutiny eased and she appeared satisfied by whatever it was she’d sought.

“You will bring the dead here, to the capitol, along with those you’ve bound to your word to brief me in full. This matter is rather delicate and for the sake of all involved, what happens after will need to be handled carefully,” she said.

Rhydian brought his fist over his skittering heart. “It will be done, my Lady. However, there is one other matter we must discuss.”

Her eyes narrowed expectantly.

He took a deep breath. If the High Wardeness wished to be briefed in full later, he would keep this short as well.

“My first arrow was not enough to kill the woman outright and in the chaos, she fled deeper into the Wilds. I pursued her on foot and managed to land the killing blow, but not before I encountered a . . . complication.”

“Complication?”

“There was another woman in the woods that day. At first, I believed she had somehow been in league with our original target, but now, I’m not so sure. Her name is Inerys. She said she came from a place inside the Veil and went so far as to claim there were entire cities within. It’s difficult to fathom, if I’m honest, but I’m inclined to believe her. She isn’t Adai. At least not entirely. And now, I’m not sure what she is. Her situation has become rather complicated.”

“How so?” She asked.

“Inerys was bitten by the target. The woman’s attack was the distraction that gave me the opening I needed. At first, I thought I could interrogate her, so I had her rushed to Mistwatch for both treatment and questioning. The wound was life-threatening, but I had no idea what the lasting consequences of that bite would be. I believe something transferred between the two during the attack. Inerys’ change has been frightening. She came to us with cores no stronger than that of a child, but within a day of the initial incident, both her mental and physical cores had jumped to their second Ascension. Her spiritual . . .is nearing the peak of its forth.”

The woman’s lips parted. “You’re certain of this?”

“One of our sages had to shackle the core to keep it from tearing her body apart. The fracturing is extensive,” he said slowly. “The core is eating away at the shackle as we speak. None of us are sure what to make of it, or of her. Whatever the woman did, it turned Inerys into something else. Physically, the two share many of the same characteristics now. I personally witnessed the girl cough up her teeth. By now, the fangs growing in their place may have fully emerged.”

The sovereign fell silent for a long moment, considering. “How many know of her existence?”

He tried to ignore the chill seeding in the base of his spine. He hadn’t failed to notice the spark of intrigue behind the Wardeness’ eyes.

“Only those whose oaths I’ve already taken.”

“Is she fit for travel?”

He grimaced. “In her current state? No. She can barely function, let alone walk. With the instability of her cores, the slightest misstep might send her over the edge. As it is, the sage has given her a week before her core eats through the shackle.”

“I’m surprised the sage had the foresight to arrest the core in the first place,” she admitted, tapping her chin with an elegant finger. “If it is devouring the shackle’s essence, laying several over one another may slow the process. It will not aid the current state of her body, however.”

“We’re treating her as we’re able, but Mistwatch is not equipped to mend damage of that scale,” he said.

“I can’t imagine it would,” she said, “but the Spirit Wilds would.”

Rhydian’s brow knit. “My Lady?”

“Consider my interest in this woman piqued, firstrider. I want this Inerys brought to me, but I want her alive and in good health. Take her to the Spirit Wilds. Between the ambient aura and forageable materials, you will have all you need to stabilize her Soul enough for the extended flight to Cyllicia.”

He wanted to argue, to press his own line of questioning, but held his tongue. The fact she did not offer her own resources for such an endeavor struck him as odd. Skies knew a sovereign’s cache had plenty to spare, but perhaps she did not want to risk involving anyone else. This mission had already gone awry. He supposed he couldn’t fault her for being cautious.

“It will be done,” he swore, “what of the bodies?”

“For now, leave them as they are. I will reach out to you if I change my mind, but until then, focus on your new charge. I want an update within the month.”