Valley of Embers (The Landkist Saga Book 1) (14 page)

Again, the image of the Sentinel’s face was called up, and again he watched it burn away in a torrent of hellfire he had summoned.

They crested the rise, and the crooked, ramshackle tower of the Faey Mother loomed. The blue roof tiles were faded from a mixture of salt and wind, the green paint on the shingles peeling. Some thought it a gaudy, misshapen thing, but to Kole, it oozed warmth and called back to images of what Sages and Wizards were supposed to be.

“We are both Landkist, Iyana,” Kole said as they neared the porch. “But you were blessed by the Valley, the moss along the streams. You’re a mender, not a killer. You see things in others they cannot.”

“Kole,” she started, but he stopped before the first step and turned to her.

“My blood is a hot river,” he said. “It could run through rock and stone, because it comes from the deep deserts. I have always found it difficult to control—more difficult than the others.”

“Kaya always had trouble,” Iyana offered.

“There’s something in me that’s not in her,” Kole said. He thought that Iyana wanted to say, ‘I know,’ but she didn’t.

“What is it, Kole?” she asked, concerned. “What happened out there, in the woods?”

“I followed a dream. It carried the face of a demon, and one that looked an awful lot like the Sentinels from the deserts Ninyeva spoke about.”

“And you killed it.”

“I burned it until there was nothing left,” Kole said. He felt the thrill all over again, which was quickly supplanted by the shame at having felt it. “It was a power unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It was freeing, and it was frightening.”

They stood under the awning, and Kole held his hand out, palm up under the sloshing gutter. At first, there was the mild hiss that always resulted from a meeting between water and an Ember’s skin, and then his muscles bunched and he coaxed out a kernel of the thrill he had felt before. The sound morphed from a soft hiss to a steady rattle, like summer insects. Then, as the steam curled thick as a gauntlet, it was a sound like a pit of vipers.

“Something in me woke out there in the trees. I don’t think it’s going back to sleep.”

He did not look at the face Iyana made. He did not want to.

The first thing Kole noted upon entering Ninyeva’s tower was the monstrous Everwood blade that leaned against the doorframe. It was almost as tall as Iyana, and only one man could wield it.

“Looks like the Faey Mother already has company,” Iyana said. It was difficult to tell where observation ended and mindreading began with her.

“Dark times,” was all Kole said in reply. His skin had dried completely by the time he had pushed the pine door shut.

“Ironic,” Iyana said, “that such times should hit as we’re entering the Bright Days.”

A shadow passed over Kole’s face and Iyana touched the red scar on his cheek where Linn’s arrow had slashed him.

“I think you’re trying a bit too hard to grow into that scar, Kole Reyna,” she said, somewhere between scolding and sincere.

Kole tried to smile, but they both looked up as the floorboards creaked overhead, a gruff and muffled voice filtering down from the dusty rafters. They moved through the entryway and came to the foot of the stairs. There, a matronly voice cut over the first.

“Shall we?” Iyana asked tentatively.

“All Valley roads lead to Ninyeva,” Kole said with a sigh and a shrug. “Damn whatever the merchants in Hearth say.”

Iyana shivered beside him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, laying a warm hand on her shoulder.

“What you just said, about roads and Ninyeva—I caught an impression from it.”

“And I’m guessing it wasn’t an overly positive one.”

She hesitated.

“I only hope you know what you’re doing,” she said, green eyes flashing like emeralds.

Kole smiled even as his stomach churned. He started up the stairs and she followed after. The voices had already quieted as the creaking stairwell announced their presence, but Kole still rapped on the oak at the top.

“Come in, Reyna,” Ninyeva said curtly, as if annoyed he had bothered knocking.

The scent of burning sage and citrus assailed their nostrils upon entering. Ninyeva raised her brows at the face he made, stood and moved to open the screen to the balcony, admitting a bit of the wind and rain in, something that had the already dour-looking First Keeper frowning. Tu’Ren floundered as he remembered himself, standing to clap Kole on the shoulder and to share an embrace with Iyana.

“Good to see you on your feet, boy,” Tu’Ren said, the red in his cheeks turning rosy in good humor. “We can agree on that, if nothing else.” His laugh was forced as he looked at Ninyeva.

The Faey Mother was as tired as Kole had ever seen her, her usual warmth dulled.

“You’ve done good work, Iyana Ve’Ran,” she said, stepping forward to look Kole up and down appraisingly. Over the years and by close association, Kole had become somewhat used to the alien quality of Iyana’s eyes, but he could not say the same for her teacher. She was, after all, the oldest of the Emberfolk of the Valley, and the first to be Landkist by it. It stood to reason those eyes held more nuance, and perhaps more potent gifts than any of them knew.

The old woman flashed him a knowing smile and he returned a weaker one.

“Feeling sprite and spry after your jaunt through the woods?” she asked, the joke stinging in more ways than one.

Kole did not answer.

“Good,” she said, taking her seat by the fire. She glanced at Tu’Ren—there was much in the look—and then turned those emeralds on Kole, waiting.

Kole shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m ready to do what needs to be done,” he said.

“And what, pray tell, needs to be done?”

“Well,” Kole started, “I think we can all agree that, whatever it is needs doing, it needs doing in the north. That’s where it’s all come from. We’re just waiting to be buried down here.”

Tu’Ren crossed his arms and issued an unintelligible grunt, but made no move to speak. Ninyeva only smiled a smile of victory.

“That settles that, then,” she said. “Our esteemed First Keeper here feels that we should shut ourselves off from the north and wait out the storm.”

Tu’Ren bristled, but did not rise to the jab.

“This is no storm,” Kole said. “Not one of the World’s making, anyway.”

All eyes turned to him. He did not elaborate, and they did not ask him to.

“Excuse my short manners, Reyna,” Ninyeva said, sounding genuine. “I’m sure Iyana filled you in on the basics?”

He nodded.

“My dreams did the rest, though I hope the truth is not half as dark.”

“Look out the window, Kole,” Ninyeva said. “What do you think? If you told me the Dark Months were in full swing, I’d believe you if I didn’t know it to be a lie. As for your dreams,” she paused, smirking a bit despite the mood, “I think there may be a bit of the Valley in that Ember blood as well.”

Tu’Ren cleared his throat and Ninyeva rolled her eyes.

“Then you know Larren Holspahr, Jenk Ganmeer, Kaya Ferrahl and some others you’re distinctly familiar with have gone north,” he said. “Do you know their intended purpose?”

“I’m guessing they intend to save us all,” Kole said. “How they plan to do that, I don’t know. But I could guess it has to do with finding one Sage or killing another.”

Ninyeva looked about to speak, but Tu’Ren broke in, his tone matching the sky outside.

“You count this a good thing?” he asked with mounting anger. “An aimless quest by some of our best and brightest when their people need them here most of all.” He was speaking to Ninyeva, but now his attention shifted to Kole. “You may be the most naturally-gifted Ember we have, Reyna, and look what happened to you when you tangled with one of the Eastern Dark’s Sentinels. How many more do you suppose are out there?”

“Enough to overwhelm us if we let them continue to build their army,” Kole said evenly. He looked to Ninyeva. “That is what they do, no? If these are the same Sentinels you spoke of from the desert days, then they can turn our own against us.”

Ninyeva nodded, but Tu’Ren was not done.

“How did they not turn you?”

Kole looked to Iyana, who shuffled forward uncertainly. The First Keeper’s mood seemed to calm a bit then, his face coloring now in shame more than anger.

Ninyeva poured herself a cup and bade the younger Landkist sit. They did.

The Faey Mother’s green eyes seemed to glow as she took Kole’s measure, and he felt suddenly like a moth caught in her lantern’s web. The part of him that felt his tricks of light to be marks of true power felt foolish when Ninyeva brought her own power to bear. She held him in thrall, and Iyana swayed from hip to hip, eyes opening and closing as the energy in the room changed.

“You have had dreams, Reyna,” Ninyeva said. Tu’Ren shifted away from her as quietly as he could. “I have as well, and I have traveled their roads and found their ends.” She looked at Tu’Ren and then back at Kole.

“Hearth is besieged,” she said, and Kole’s heart caught in his chest. He had seen it. “Tu’Ren has sent your father to learn the details, but there’s the truth.” She paused. “Be that as it may, your path is to the north, the far north. It was intuition that saw me agree to your desire to make for the peaks, to learn what there was to learn. Perhaps Linn Ve’Ran and the others have forced our hand in a positive light. I felt misgivings about sending you alone with nothing but your own heart to guide you.”

“I had plenty of reasons,” Kole said, though speaking felt like swimming through molasses. He was unable to tear his eyes away from hers, and images from her mind flowed into his. He saw the dark clouds issuing like smoke above the peaks, and in a dark cloister of spurs, he saw the hint of a red-tipped structure that suggested a dark keep.

“Your reasons are not good enough,” she said flatly. “But now, with your friends out on the roads you were set to travel, that might change for the better.”

Now Kole saw images of an entirely different bent, Linn always at the center, and he did not know if these were of his own making or not. Iyana seemed to share them, either feeding off of him or the Faey Mother. She shuddered at their potency.

“The enemy you will face out there,” she continued. “The enemy you did face, and that your friends will face soon enough, is not the same as that we have battled since you were a boy.”

“I know—

“No,” Ninyeva interrupted. “You know a small piece. You came upon a single Sentinel. There are more, and they have brought with them their Corrupted. Even last night, I saw things stirring in the Untamed Hills—great beasts being turned in the image of the Night Lords.”

“I don’t understand,” Iyana said. “If The Eastern Dark has come for us, why does he not send the whole of the World Apart? Why do it piecemeal?”

“The World Apart is a place of chaos,” Ninyeva said. “I do not even think a Sage is confident mining its stores. He sent true Night Lords, powerful generals, against his brother and our protector before you were born. I think the experience nearly killed him. Most of us thought it had. The Sentinels are a virus, incredibly dangerous but not so powerful on their own to draw the notice of the other Sages. The war he makes on us now is one meant to be made in private.”

“It felt powerful enough,” Kole said, shivering despite his warmth.

“Yes,” Ninyeva said. “Now you know what to expect. The Corrupted will not be nearly as potent as their masters, but you need to avoid conflict where you can. You need to make for the peaks and find the source. It lies beneath a red roof, the one I have shown you.”

“How?” Kole asked. “How do you know this?”

“I have seen it,” Ninyeva said, and even she looked to waver for a moment, her eyes glazing over. She cleared them and refocused. “I do not pretend to have all the answers, Kole. I only know that we will not endure this flood unless we stop the source, and the source is nowhere near here.”

“I want to know how Reyna has been having these dreams,” Tu’Ren broke in.

Ninyeva’s attention splintered and something in the room went with it. Iyana seemed to come back to herself. She stopped her swaying and blinked sharply.

“What you felt when the great ape looked into your eyes and you into his,” Ninyeva said, looking to Kole. “Did you feel the same when the Sentinel locked you in its gaze?”

Kole nodded.

Ninyeva turned her eyes back to Tu’Ren.

“We know that our King of Ember, together with the White Crest, attempted to bring down our enemy in the east,” she said. “We know that he failed, but knowing how powerful he was—a Landkist capable of striking a bargain with one Sage and challenging another—I can guess he made an impression.”

Kole swallowed, feeling suddenly quite sick.

“You think he has designs on Kole in particular?” Iyana asked. “What of Tu’Ren, or Larren, or the Embers of Hearth?”

“I do not know,” she said, and she looked to be telling the truth of it. It was a truth that bothered her greatly. Her eyes hardened. “You have long felt that the Valley was more prison than refuge, Kole. I do not know if that is the case, but given what I’ve seen lately, and what comes against us now, I cannot entirely dismiss the possibility that we’ve been right where he wanted the whole time. I think it’s time we showed him why we are not to be trifled with.”

“And what of the White Crest?” Tu’Ren asked.

“I don’t know,” Ninyeva said. “I awoke something in the Between. In some way, I think it may have been the catalyst for the darkness that assails us now, though it was always coming. But these are not weapons of his, no matter where you think his allegiance rests or rested.”

She looked to Kole as she finished and looked as if she wanted to say more. After a struggle, she did.

“I won’t send anyone else on a fool’s quest to find a guardian long since dead,” she said, swallowing after the words had been said.

And there it was, Kole’s world come crashing down, and the apparent source sitting right before him. His mother had not struck out for the peaks those years ago of her own accord. Ninyeva had played some part, however great or small.

Kole felt his blood go hot, but he worked to cool it. He reminded himself what he remembered of his mother, and more so what others had told him since. She had been headstrong to a fault, making Linn Ve’Ran look like a conformist by comparison. Any choice she made, she made herself. Still, it was a bitter pill to swallow, but one that had no doubt taken courage for Ninyeva to admit.