DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) (226 page)

But Master Mackaront had arrived from Entel that day, and had confirmed what Yakim Douan had suspected: that Abellican monks had sometimes used hematite, the soul stone, to fly free of their bodies and traverse great distances with their disembodied spirits. Father Abbot Markwart had been especially deft at such tactics, Mackaront had said.

Of course Douan knew of spirit-walking. He had used it against his enemies within Jacintha and to spy upon visiting Yatols on occasion. He had used it to trick Yatol Thei’a’hu into betraying Yatol Bohl. But this was something beyond that.

That night, he intended to fly far, far from Jacintha, out into the open desert where he might locate the Dragon of To-gai and her elusive army. He had already ordered his newest attendant—he could never remember the man’s name!—to set up a line of signalers to Yatol Bardoh and Shauntil, explaining that he would seek divine guidance to help them with their quest.

Now all he had to do was find the Dragon of To-gai.

In his private room, the door securely bolted, Yakim Douan took his first tentative steps into the swirling depths of the hematite gemstone, using the magic within to separate his spirit from his body. His incorporeal spirit went out across the city easily, moving to the western gates.

And there he paused. Never before had he gone out from Jacintha in this form.

Before he could second-guess himself, the Chezru Chieftain sailed out across the open desert, his spirit flying free and fast. He sped to the west, past Dahdah Oasis, then turned south, for the latest reports from Yatol Bardoh had the Dragon of To-gai somewhere to the east of Pruda.

He could not believe the amount of ground he covered that night, running a line from Dallabad to Pruda, and then back to the northeast, back to Jacintha. But he saw no sign of the woman and her army. His relief was profound when he returned to his own body to discover that nothing was amiss, that none in Chom Deiru apparently had any idea that anything unsavory had occurred that night.

And so he went out again the next night, this time moving more to the south and less to the west.

He knew at first, distant sight, that the encampment he spotted was that of the To-gai-ru and not of Yatol Bardoh.

“P
ruda has been garrisoned once more, and no doubt with many spear-throwing
ballistae in case our dragon should make an appearance,” a scout reported to Brynn that same night.

The woman nodded, hardly surprised. The pursuing Behrenese were having little luck in catching her, but Yatol Bardoh was doing well to outfit every nearby city against possible attacks.

“No doubt they have been told of our typical tactics, as well,” Pagonel said to her when the scout left them alone. “What new tricks will we find to shape the upcoming battlefields to our liking?”

Brynn shrugged, having few answers. “Agradeleous grows impatient once again,” she noted, for she had been speaking with the dragon nearly every night. “How many weeks has it been since he has seen any large battles?”

“You give him free rein to destroy the caravans.”

“But that is hardly the adventure he so craves.”

Pagonel looked at her intently. “Hold the course,” he advised. “As miserable and hot as we are, our pursuers are even more so. Let us run Yatol Bardoh all across the hot sands of Behren, finding opportunity to sting where we may.”

It was true enough, Brynn realized. There was no way they could turn about and do battle with the pursuing Behrenese army, even with a dragon at their disposal. Agradeleous had been fairly injured at the escape from Bardoh, and to Brynn’s surprise, she had learned that dragon wounds were cumulative, that they really didn’t heal very quickly. As much as the dragon desired battle, Brynn knew that she had to take great care, using him only when he was most needed.

“Your guidance keeps me strong,” she said to Pagonel, stroking the side of his head and neck gently. “We will hold our course and run Yatol Bardoh into the hot sands. And when winter comes, we will return to the steppes, quietly, and next spring wage war against every outposter settlement.”

“And when the Behrenese army charges into To-gai to stop us?”

“We will turn again upon Behren,” said Brynn. “We will sting them over and over again—it is all we can do—and hope that the Chezru Chieftain will come to see his expansion onto the steppes as a fool’s—”

She stopped suddenly, her face locked in a strange and confused manner, and she blinked her eyes repeatedly.

“Brynn?” Pagonel asked, moving toward her.

She lashed out suddenly, her fist speeding for his chest, but the supremely trained Jhesta Tu snapped his hand up to deflect the blow gently.

She punched out again, and again, and then began to thrash about, and it became apparent to Pagonel that she wasn’t attacking him, but was struggling against some unseen enemy, some demon within herself!

“Brynn!” he cried repeatedly and he finally found an opening to grab the woman and bring her down to the ground. “Brynn! What is it? Tell me!”

Undecipherable, almost feral, sounds escaped the woman’s lips and she shuddered violently, nearly tossing the Jhesta Tu off her.

And then she lay very still, staring at Pagonel, her face a mask of confusion.

“What was it?” he asked, recognizing that the danger had passed.

Brynn shook her head. “It was … someone else …” She stammered and shook her head, unable to fathom what had just occurred. She finally started to better explain it when the pair heard a scream from the neighboring tent, where Pagonel had secured the captive Merwan Ma.

“Someone else?” Pagonel asked as he started to rise, pulling Brynn up beside him.

“Looking, into me … looking through my eyes!”

By the time the two got into Merwan Ma’s tent, the poor Shepherd was curled up in a corner, trembling with obvious terror, and whispering “God-Voice,” over and over again.

“God-Voice?” Brynn asked Pagonel.

“The Chezru Chieftain,” the mystic replied, and he turned to Merwan Ma. “You have seen him?”

The Shepherd just continued to tremble, and shook his head repeatedly.

Brynn and Pagonel looked to each other, then back to the man.

“He has seen him,” Brynn remarked. “The Chezru Chieftain was here—in spirit, at least.” She looked back to Pagonel. “But how is that possible?”

“With a gemstone,” the mystic replied. “A hematite.” He watched Merwan Ma as he spoke, and noted that the man’s eyes widened a bit more, a subtle but telling sign.

“What do you know?” the mystic asked the captive.

Merwan Ma looked away.

“The use of gemstone magic is strictly forbidden by the Chezru religion,” the mystic explained to Brynn, who was nodding, already well aware of that fact. “And yet, there is no other way that Chezru Chieftain Yakim Douan could have come to us. The Jhesta Tu know how to walk out of body, but that is a secret we guard carefully, and only our greatest mystics can achieve the state.

“But Yakim Douan did come out here, did he not, Merwan Ma?” Pagonel went on. “He came to Brynn and then to you, and you recognized him clearly.”

“You know nothing!” the Shepherd yelled, and he turned about, burying his face in the tent side. “Nothing!”

Brynn and Pagonel looked to each other.

“Leave us, I beg,” the mystic whispered. “I believe that this entire picture is beginning to focus. Our friend here knows something—that is why the Chezru Chieftain wanted him killed—and that something is perhaps linked to the surprise we have seen this night.”

“The Chezru Chieftain uses a gemstone?” Brynn whispered, but she was too excited to keep her voice low enough so that Merwan Ma could not hear, and he shifted and let out a small whimper.

Pagonel shook his head, then shrugged. “If he does, he would not want anyone to know.”

“Enough of a threat for him to order this man killed?”

“Perhaps,” the mystic reasoned.

Brynn left then, and Pagonel knelt beside Merwan Ma. He grabbed the man by the shoulder and began to turn him about, but Merwan Ma tugged free and turned back.

Pagonel took him more roughly by the shoulder and pulled him around. “I have been more patient with you than you deserve,” he said bluntly. “You—we—were visited this night by a spirit, and one that you recognized as your God-Voice.”

“No!”

“Yes! And now you will tell me the truth of why Chezru Yakim Douan wished you dead. Is it because you knew his secret? That he possessed a soul stone?”

The man blanched but did not answer, and Pagonel took that as an answer in itself, a clear indication that he had hit on something, something very important. Still, the depth of this escaped him. Yakim Douan had been in power for decades, without threat, for indeed, none of the Yatols would threaten him. The hierarchy of their religion left no room for any such dissension. Given that, why would Yakim Douan even need a soul stone? Or perhaps, in desperation, he had enlisted the Abellicans to help him in his search for the To-gai-ru army. That made some sense to Pagonel, but offered only a partial explanation. For if it was indeed the God-Voice who had come out to them in spirit, then the man’s flirtation with such a gemstone could not have been anything new to him. It took years of training, even with the aid of a hematite, to attempt even a small spirit-walk, let alone the near possession he had witnessed with Brynn. No, it made no sense.

“We will sit here all through the night, and tomorrow as well, if that is needed,” Pagonel said to Merwan Ma. “I will know the truth of it. And why you so protect this man who would see you dead, I do not understand.”

“It was the Chezhou-Lei, and not the God-Voice!” Merwan Ma screamed, but his voice lost all power and all conviction at the end of the declaration, and he melted into sobs.

Pagonel sat back and let him alone for a bit, trying again to sort through all of this startling news.

W
ith mixed feelings did Yakim Douan re-enter his corporeal body back in Jacintha. He had found her! Had found this woman—Brynn, he had heard her called—and her band of marauding rebels! Now he could direct Yatol Bardoh and destroy the Dragon of To-gai once and for all.

But he had found Merwan Ma, as well, alive and sitting in a tent right beside the woman and her Jhesta Tu companion. Merwan Ma! Douan had thought him dead and gone, murdered, burned, and buried in Dharyan! What implications did this hold? What dangers might Merwan Ma bring to him personally, whatever the outcome of his hunt for the Dragon of To-gai?

Few or none, he decided. He would send word out among his troops that the man was a traitor and was guiding their enemies across the desert. He would offer a huge reward for Merwan Ma—no, not for Merwan Ma, but for Merwan Ma’s
severed head!

Yes, that was it.

Douan hustled through Chom Deiru, back to the circular room, where he replaced the chalice. Then he ran to find his attendant—how he wished he could remember the young dolt’s name!—to proclaim that he had heard the word of Yatol, and that Yatol would deliver their enemies unto them.

“Y
our God-Voice has enlisted the aid of the Abellicans in finding us,” Pagonel reasoned to Merwan Ma the next day, after spending more than half the night grilling the man.

The Shepherd shook his head.

“It is no secret that he is friends with the abbot from Entel, Abbot …”

“Abbot Olin,” Merwan Ma said, the first words he had spoken in hours. “Yes, Jhesta Tu, the God-Voice knows Abbot Olin of Entel well, but never has he shown any interest in procuring gemstones from the Abellicans. The gemstones are what separate us—”

“But he has a stone in his possession, a powerful one, if he can use it to spirit-walk this far from his city.”

“You believe that you know so much.”

“Knowledge is the way of Jhesta Tu, Merwan Ma,” said Pagonel. “We know of the To-gai-ru and the Behrenese. We understand the word of Yatol and of St. Abelle. We know of the gemstones, including their properties. I, myself, have used a hematite to walk out of body.”

“They are sacrilege,” the Shepherd grumbled.

Pagonel laughed at him. “To the Jhesta Tu, they are tools, my young friend. As fire is a tool. Some consider them the gift of God, others use them as proof that their religion is better since they forsake them.”

Merwan Ma looked away.

“And yet, your God-Voice has one, does he not?” Pagonel pressed, and he moved around, putting his face very near the shaken young man. “Admit it. That is why he wanted to kill you—and it was Yakim Douan who ordered you dead, not some rogue Chezhou-Lei trying to grab for power in Dharyan. Why would a Chezhou-Lei warrior even wish for some power? They are warriors, not governors! They are—”

“He has a stone!” Merwan Ma shouted back, and fell back in horror at his own words and sat there, gasping.

“A hematite?”

The Shepherd nodded.

“You have seen it, and Yakim Douan knows that you know of it?”

Another nod.

“And that is why he wanted you dead,” the mystic reasoned. “Your knowledge of his … indiscretion, frightened him. Profoundly so, it would seem.”

“It is in the chalice,” Merwan Ma admitted somberly. “A sacrilegious Abellican
soul stone embedded in the Chezru Goblet, in the Room of Forever.”

“The chalice filled with the blood of those chosen for sacrifice?” Pagonel asked.

“It is among the most important relics in Chom Deiru,” Merwan Ma replied, and he held up his hands and pulled up his sleeves, showing the mystic the line of scars along his wrist.

“And you found the hematite within that chalice?”

The Shepherd nodded. “And then I saw the God-Voice with the chalice,” he admitted, shaking his head, his expression full of horror as he remembered that awful moment.

“And he knew that you saw him?”

“Yes.”

“And soon after, you were sent to Dharyan to serve as governor,” said the mystic, and it was all beginning to come together then, even a definite feeling within Pagonel that this was something deeper than just the God-Voice using a soul stone.

Chapter 35