The Arcana: Shadow Wars, Codex I

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Race to Red Pointe

In which they find an unexpected ally

Bessa and Edana knew their plan was working when people began to ask about the attack on the vineyard as soon as they heard Bessa’s name. Soon enough the pair were recognized before they spoke at all. Some of those who stopped them cited Grandmother Pendry as their source for news. Bessa shook her head, amused at herself.

After all, her plan had been to exploit her grandparents’ status as tribal chieftains to spread the truth about the giants. However, they had operated more as her grandparents. Didn’t Grandmother Pendry say she was worried Bessa hadn’t brought enough guards? She had spread the word that Bessa and Edana were to be looked after. Every so often, a farmer would hail them and offer food and refreshment, or a game hunter would pace them on the open road, especially as night neared.

And then the carriage stopped.

Edana bolted upright. She had been dozing at the scenery, but the neigh alerted her. Oxen pulled their carriage, not horses.

Bessa whispered, “What do we do?”

Belted at her waist, Edana’s peplos gown bloused over her thighs, giving her a convenient way to conceal her knives. In silence she positioned one hand beneath the overhang, and over her knife.

The driver called out, “Optima Nuriel? Optima Philomelos?”

“Yes,” Edana answered, her voice clipped.

A lordly voice responded, “We must talk.”

The women exchanged a glance. Bessa started to rise, but Edana stopped her with a gesture.

Instead, Edana gripped the handle of the carriage door and called out, “Who is asking?”

“Draco Aether Decimus Saavedra. I’ve been waiting for you. Come.”

The aether sat across from them in the carriage. General of the legion controlling nearby Casterbridge and the surrounding region, Saavedra was a man of great presence. The carriage seemed quite a bit smaller for him being in it.

“I’ve read Senovara’s reports,” Saavedra said. “She is greatly renowned in Tartessia, where I am from. She is a formidable sorceress; a Siluran in her position would have to be. Her report, and that of Centurion Makris, has stirred up a hornet’s nest. And I see you poking it with a nice, sharp stick.”

No reaction from Edana, who outwardly displayed a statue-like stillness Bessa coveted. Her own lashes fluttered as she weighed her words.

Saavedra smiled and dipped his head. “Obviously you’re on your way to see the duke. I consider it my duty to act as your escort, seeing as yours is so carelessly light.”

Bessa blurted, “That’s not necessary. This territory belongs to my mother’s tribe. No one would dare to strike us here. Besides, the closer we get to Red Pointe, the more soldiers we expect to see. Attacking us simply wouldn’t be practical.”

“Consider me your honor guard, then.”

In a careful, neutral tone Edana asked, “Is it wise to leave your post when there are giants about?”

Saavedra waved it away. “Let me assure you I have excellent centurions. Be at ease, Optima Nuriel. I am most eager to obtain a straight answer about these giants. There are defenses to prepare, and offenses if possible, and the first thing is making sure we’re all aware of what needs doing.”

“I see,” Edana said.

Saavedra drove a fast pace, taking only a squad with him, forming an honor guard as he said. Just once, Bessa glimpsed a Siluran watching them from a bluff as they passed. From the checked pattern of her clothes, Bessa recognized her as part of her mother’s tribe. This was a scout, one of the many her grandparents appointed to look out for her. That scout was the only one she saw, but if the scouts kept to the old ways it was the only one she would see.

Nightfall came, and two hours later they arrived at Red Pointe. The fortress stood on a promontory looming over the shores of the Red River. The fast-moving river served as a moat, with the fortress walls just beyond. Two watch towers flanked the gate beyond the wall, which had more towers placed at strategic intervals. A narrow bridge led into the fortress, but a horn sounded before they set foot on it.

A watch commander met them at the gate; he appeared to have expected them. He and Saavedra spoke in low, urgent tones, defying all attempts to eavesdrop. At last he let them inside the walls of the fortress, and no one impeded them further.

The group dismounted on the main road inside the fortress, which led straight to the headquarters. On either side of them stood the long rows of barracks housing the soldiers, who swarmed about as they shifted from first to second watch.

The gates shut behind them with a resounding clang, locking them inside the fortress.

Edana tensed.

A group of soldiers brought them to the praetorium, a tall building in the center of the camp. Typical for the headquarters of a fortress, the praetorium stood at the end of a courtyard surrounded by a colonnade housing the various offices and store rooms of the fortress. Bessa judged the layout similar enough to the Watch back home, but on a far grander scale.

However, unlike the Watch in Falcon’s Hollow, all of the buildings at Red Pointe were stone. In the glowlights they shone with the same red as the walls of the fortress.

Edana tapped Bessa’s arm, and inclined her head to their left.

At first glance Bessa saw only a small fleet of fire drakes, juvenile dragons, tethered to posts at the far left of the courtyard. And so what? The fortress was commanded by a draco aether, so there ought to be fire dragons. All men of the dragon class were entitled to them, and none less than that were permitted the rank of draco aether.

Then Bessa saw her.

Surrounded by an honor guard of six soldiers sporting gleaming metal, plumed helmets and dragon masks, a woman strode across the courtyard. Straight for them. Head and shoulders above most of her guards, the woman was taller than even Edana. Unusual, but not very, and Bessa started to relax when the woman turned their way.

Salamandra!

In the flesh, not in the drawings by a naturalist Bessa once studied. The Salamandra preferred desert climates, said the naturalist, and couldn’t bear cooler weather. What then, was this one doing in Silura at all, let alone northern Silura?

Bessa slowed her steps, the better to take her in. Carefully, she noted the similarities between the Salamandran woman and any human woman. With her long, graceful strides, the silk folds of the Salamandran’s flame-yellow chiton revealed a lithe, well-proportioned figure. Hair flowed from her head, coal dark and swirled in a knot, bound with a band of pearls. A circlet of gold filigree adorned her brow, sitting just above a column of spikes down the center of her forehead. At first Bessa focused only on the spikes, and only after a few heartbeats did she notice the creamy white jade in the center of the circlet. Her heart began to pound.

A truth-seer.

Because she was determined to keep Bessa from danger, Edana did not include Bessa in her talk with Senovara. At the Falcon’s Hollow shore fort, Edana intercepted Senovara before she reached the banquet hall where Bessa and the others awaited news of the battle. Before Bessa had proposed her own plan to bring down Duke Gagnon, Edana had been obliged to work her original one.

Which meant asking Senovara certain pointed questions.

“Is it normal for the duke to warn against mere brigands?”

The question brought Senovara up short, and she frowned. No one would overhear them, for Edana ensured their privacy by holding her interrogation in the room Centurion Ajax Makris reserved for briefing sessions with his officers.

“No,” she said after a while. “Nor the consul.”

“The consul?”

Senovara’s frown deepened. Her amber eyes flashed, and Edana waited, watching the wheels turn.

Finally Senovara said, “The notice bore the seals of the Consul of War and the Duke of Silura. And no, they would not tell us about ordinary criminal activity. Especially not the Consul of War. But the duke’s seal is merely a formality, because we don’t receive anything that hasn’t come through him or from him.”

Oh? Silently Edana considered: Undoubtedly, Duke Gagnon would claim his seal was stolen to send Senovara a fraudulent report. Surely he had well prepared the ground for that lie, with an unimpeachable source to validate his claim. If called to account, he could introduce the idea of an arcanum hidden in the ranks of the imperial army, and lay his own actions at the feet of the officers most likely to fight the giants. He would engineer a crippling outcome for Silura, if not Rasena Valentis.

Unless Edana stopped him.

“I trust there’s a reason it seemed plausible the duke and consul would inform you of these supposed criminals?”

To keep Senovara talking Edana would need to give her an out, and she hoped her question would serve as one. But more importantly, Edana wanted Senovara to provide her with bullets for her sling.

Which she did.

“Criminals who cross borders and grow more and more violent with each attack would spark our interest in and of itself. Add in that their work is attributed to beings that don’t exist in any nation of Rasena Valentis and we’d get downright attentive. However, the tactics I used against the giants were what I originally planned for dealing with the sorcerers I thought you were really warning about.”

Edana’s lips quirked at that last. Duke Gagnon had outsmarted himself; his plan depended on Senovara being completely unprepared. However, Edana needed for Senovara to consider the possibility of a traitor, and conduct her own hunt.

“But why not believe there really are giants? I told you the Seeker’s Own were among those reporting the giants’ attacks. Why was that not enough?”

Senovara shook her head. “Prophets can only tell us what they See, not necessarily what is true. In the missive, the claim was that sorcerers used either an illusion to appear as giants, or a spell to induce that hallucination. Certainly the seers ought to have said they saw giants. They were meant to.”

Ah. Never had she heard prophets could be tricked in such a fashion; such could not be done to an alethomantis because they saw through illusions. And now she understood why Senovara had doubted her: she had been primed with a lie more plausible than the truth.

“And if you never learned of the giants—if Morivassus Philomelos had never reached you—what would you have done?”

For a long while the sorceress stared at Edana, but Edana met her gaze calmly, without heat. Backing down was not an option. So long as her cover sufficed, she would not reveal she was working with the Star Dragons, either.

In Senovara’s eyes Edana should seem nothing more than a highly connected businesswoman. Or so Edana gambled, and along those lines she hoped Senovara would assume she was speaking for the benefit of any social or political luminary Edana would chance to talk to about the situation. Certainly she would expect Edana to repeat the conversation for Bessa and Matrona Aurelia; her connection to them accounted for her interest in the matter. Edana’s questioning her should pass scrutiny.

“Investigated,” Senovra said at last. “The giants’ kills could pass as a sorcerer’s kill. To the untrained eye. However, even I would have been misdirected by the lightning.”

Edana kept her tone as conversational as possible. “Misdirected? How?”

“Young lady, there is no such thing as a sorcerer who can wield the powers of a sylph or a khrestai. Lightning is their specialty. Once I determined that lightning killed the Philomelos family, I would have prayed that somehow they angered the khrestai, and were punished. Because the alternative would have been too frightening.”

“The alternative?”

Why would the khrestai be a comforting option? Only once had she set eyes on one of that race, when she and Bessa were playing in the fens. Open-hearted, the girls thought nothing of greeting what they thought was a traveler who was passing them by. Slight of build, he passed for human at a distance. Then they came close enough to feel the power radiating off of him. Intuition told them he was one of the preternatural servants of the dryads, the wardens of the wilds. They could only stare when he returned their greeting. Awed, they watched him vanish when he overtook them by ten steps.

To her surprise, Senovara vigorously rubbed her upper arms, as if chilled. “That a second Scouring had begun. That the khrestai have decided once again that we needed culling, as punishment for our sins. You threaten such to ensure the faithful take part in the festivals of Repentance and Atonement. Be good, be sorry, keep the khrestai away, that sort of thing. But there were multiple warnings before the first Scouring, and we all pray the khrestai wouldn’t start a second one without warning. Especially since sorcerers were the primary targets last time. But those were Oathbreakers.”

Ah. While her father’s people also celebrated a festival of atonement, the khrestai were not a factor there. Only the laws of the Sower mattered, and sorcerers operated outside of that law. All the same, Edana never before paid close attention to the role the khrestai played in the Scouring. But now she saw how someone could manipulate the knowledge of that history.

Senovara’s lips quivered in the ghost of a smile. Sobering she added, “But as for how the vinedressers were killed, I believe anyone other than a sorcerer would have assumed a sorcerer had done it. For myself, in order to believe that, I would first have to know how any sorcerer acquired such power. Without breaking the Oath.”

“Don’t you take power from the Huntress or Restorer and so on? And the Oathbreakers take them from fellshades?”

“Of course. And spirits. But the khrestai are known to become very…attentive…when you wield power they believe should belong only to them. Trust me when I say they can find anyone they wish to find. The lorekeepers insist no spirit, not even a fellshade, will protect you from their wrath. The gods withhold from us the powers of the sylphs, khrestai, dryads, naiads or sea dragons; those beings are their children. Allowing us to access Salamandran powers—on a limited scale, mind you—seems to be the only exception, but none know why.”

Hmm. The duke was not a sorcerer; his plans suggested he didn’t know the sorcerer versus khrestai angle. For Edana his ignorance suggested who wasn’t part of the conspiracy.

“Interesting. But now you know lightning can be harnessed, and wielded at will. Or I should say, the giants know this.”

“Yes. That does bear looking into.” Senovara tapped her lips with her finger and frowned again.

Once again, Edana watched the wheels turn. “And the missive? About the sorcerers?”

“That, too. Especially that.”

Now, Edana stood with Bessa in Red Pointe’s antechamber, awaiting the duke. All during their journey she had prayed her talk with Senovara would bear fruit, and the discussion with Saavedra on their way to Red Pointe gave her hope. The seer’s presence made her downright cheerful, although she maintained a neutral expression.

The antechamber was lit up as daylight, thanks to the large glowlights suspended from the ceiling. Wall sculptures in low relief depicted the emperor in historic battles, culminating in the double doors at the other end of the room. Huge and bronze, the doors bore a life-sized engraving of the emperor in his saddle, hurling a spear from the back of Lysimachus, his sea dragon. Looming fierce and rampant, the dragon inspired awe; the emperor himself looked no less fearsome.

Between the light bouncing off the doors and the red sandstone floors, the room was bathed in a reddish cast.

Edana eyed the seer’s group ahead of them. No ordinary guardsmen for her; their golden, full-face dragon masks and purple cloaks said they could only be the Drakon Guard, elite soldiers charged with guarding the emperor. Before the Fourth Cataclysm the men would have been true dragons, sea dragons shifted to human form. But now, Lysimachus was the rare sea dragon willing to live amongst people. The days when a sea dragon could be compelled to serve others were done now. These guards must be men.

Saavedra ushered in Bessa and Edana behind them, and his own soldiers spread out behind him and the women. Before they could go another step, two of the Drakon Guard suddenly turned and crossed spears in front of them, barring the way.

Bessa blinked, and seemed poised to speak. Then her face cleared, and Edana suspected she was remembering the rule about imperial seers: none save the Drakon Guard could go armed in their presence, because imperial seers were the Sight and Voice of the emperor.

However, this seer was a living weapon, by virtue of being a Salamandran. By definition she was the most dangerous person in the room. Why did she insist on a formality that had no meaning in her case? As it was, Saavedra and his men could not go further so long as they were armed. The seer outranked him in authority.

Suddenly, the doors to the antechamber swung open. A flash of gold hurtled towards them, and a voice boomed out.

“Lady Aelia, Aether Saavedra, thank you both for coming. It is an honor to have you here. My lady, I am Draco Aether Ritter Roswald, at your service.”

Like Saavedra, Roswald wore red leather and golden armor, the livery of an aether. At this volume, he spoke with a pronounced accent that revealed he was from Helisius, a country not far from the Cloudwalk Mountains in the northeastern part of the empire.

He nodded at Saavedra, but bowed his head to Lady Aelia. Unlike Saavedra, Edana noted, he was conveniently unarmed. Clearly, he expected the seer. And Saavedra himself remained calm, showing no surprise at Lady Aelia’s presence. Bessa glanced at Edana, a question in her eyes.

Wait, Edana mouthed, maintaining her serene expression. Bessa frowned in obvious irritation, but folded her arms and adapted an expectant stance.

Lady Aelia turned from Roswald to face them. She raised her chin to Saavedra and he slipped his scabbard from his belt, handing it to one of his men. This time when he stepped forward, the honor guards snapped their spears straight, allowing him to pass between them to stand before Lady Aelia. Bessa and Edana followed. It did not escape their attention that now the Drakon Guard encircled them as well.

Lady Aelia focused on the women. Her eyes were the same topaz as the stone in Bessa’s pledge ring. They were also large, and the way light glinted from them made Edana think of Lady Nensela’s watch-cats, whose sight remained keen even in the dark of night. Like a cat, Lady Aelia rarely blinked. A small shudder rippled through Bessa’s body, and Edana couldn’t blame her. The effect of Lady Aelia’s gaze was unnerving.

“Draco Aether Saavedra,” Lady Aelia began, with an accent both intriguing and strange. “My compliments on bringing Optima Philomelos and Optima Nuriel to Red Pointe unharmed.”

Saavedra bowed his head to her. “My lady.”

Now it was Edana’s turn to feel a tremor, though hers was tinged with anticipation. Was the work she and Bessa put in about to bear fruit?

The alethomantis stepped forward, close enough for Edana to see the blue vein rising from her clavicle to disappear into her jawline. Her skin was a darker rose gold than Edana’s, and her smooth, unlined face did not help in guessing her age. What little she knew of the Salamandra was that they were long-lived, perhaps immortal like the Ta-Setians.

Lady Aelia looked them over, and from one to the other. Was it possible to outrun the reach of her fire, or would one simply die tired if she decided to throw a fireball? Did Salamandra throw fireballs? Lady Aelia looked so elegant Edana pictured her raising an eyebrow and immolating someone with a mere glance.

“Optima Philomelos,” Lady Aelia began. She waited.

“Lady Aelia,” Bessa coolly replied. And cleared her throat, betraying her nervousness to Edana, though she was outwardly calm to the eyes and ears of these strangers they stood amongst.

Lady Aelia nodded, and turned to Edana. “Optima Nuriel. From the looks on your faces, this night’s events are rather mysterious, I take it?”

“If you would oblige us?” Edana asked.

Lady Aelia’s smile came and went like lightning. She leaned forward and lowered her voice, as if exchanging a secret with a close friend.

“You have stirred up Silura quite thoroughly. Everyone is asking questions about Duke Gagnon. Everyone is asking about the giants. You clearly know how to make an effective use of your influence. Come. Let us go and visit the duke.”