Guild Mage 99

Chapter 99: The Hall of Ancestors

“Look, Rei,” Keri said.  “Do you see all the animals?” He held his son up with his left arm, while using his right to point at the carved tree trunks that surrounded Kelum Kedim.  Surrounding them, as far as they eye could see, were giant pillars of red cedar, shaped using a combination of tools and magic to depict the animals that populated the north.

Stern-beaked eagles, hawks, owls and falcons, with stylized wings tucked against their bodies, glared across the forest at bears, foxes, wolves or rabbits.  There were creatures of the waters, as well: the salmon that swam upriver and leapt the falls, the whales that hunted the coasts.

Rei, his hair an unruly cloud of silk-fine gold, laughed and pointed in glee, calling out the names of each creature to his mother and father as they passed.  Behind them, Sohvis led the warriors of House Bælris, and the pack horses laden with supplies and canvas.  Keri’s father, Ilmari, had come, as well as Aunt Väina.  The rest of the elders had remained behind at Mountain Home, along with half the guard.

“There are half a dozen houses here already,” Rika pointed out.  “I see Keria, Iravata, Däivi.”  Each house had claimed their traditional clearing, for while they met at Kelum Kedim only rarely, the Vakansa were people of long habit and custom.  House Bælris would camp with the other unconquered houses, as they had since the peace was made over a thousand years before.

“Every house with a convenient Waystone,” Keri agreed.  He turned and called back to his father.  “I want to seek out House Syvä,” he said.  “I’ve found Valtteri Ka Auris to be a reasonable man, and I spent a short time with him while I was in Lucania.”

Ilmari ka Väinis waved his wrinkled hand.  “Go along, then.  It will take some time to make camp here.”  

“Do you wish to come with me?” Keri offered to his kwenim.  Their truce during the journey had been a brittle thing, enforced mainly by a common desire to avoid embarrassing the rest of their family in front of the soldiers.  Now that they were among other houses, there was yet more reason to be courteous and conciliatory.  And yet, it felt false: like a performance.  Keri knew that her anger with him had not abated, and only simmered like a stew left over banked coals.

“No,” Rika refused.  “I’ll stay to make certain Sohvis gets our tents set up correctly.  Take Rei along, it will keep him out of the way.”

“That had been my intent,” Keri said.  “It will be good for him to begin meeting those of other houses.”  It felt strange to go unarmored, among those who were not his own warriors, but by tradition no instruments of war could be brought into the forest surrounding Kelum Kedim.

Finding the encampment of House Syvä meant leaving the houses who had remained loyal to the Vædim or who, like the descendants of Bælris, had stood aside, and crossing into the much larger collection of tents and fires claimed by the victorious houses who had rebelled.  The most direct route would have been to descend into the amphitheater, but such a sacred place was not to be casually entered, and so Keri went around the long way.  Finally, he spotted the tents of stretched caribou hide that marked the house of the farthest north.

“Who approaches?” a warrior of House Syvä challenged him.  Though the woman carried no weapon, her shoulders were broad and muscular.

“A friend,” Keri said.  “Please tell Valtteri Ka Auris that Inkeris, who he met in Freeport, has come to greet him.  And that I bring my son, Rei.”  He shifted the blonde child from his left arm to his right.

“Get down?” Rei asked, as the guard hurried back into the tents.

“In a moment,” Keri said.  “You’re going to meet one of your father’s friends.”  That was overstating things, of course; Valtteri was substantially older than he was, and they’d only known each other briefly.  But the events in Freeport had been tumultuous, and they’d fought together in the alleys of the human city to save Valtteri’s daughter.  Warriors who had relied on each other in battle formed trust quickly, and Keri was confident of his reception.

“Inkeris!” The man in question strode out of the tents, white braids rustling about his shoulders, the trinkets of bone and metal hanging from the ends of each clinking as he moved.  “It is good to see you again,” he said, and extended his arm so that they could each clasp the other.  “This is your son, is it?  A handsome boy.”

“Rei, this is Valtteri of the House of Syvä,” Keri explained.  “Say hello.”

“Good morning,” Rei said.  “Your tents don’t look like ours.”

Valtteri chuckled.  “That is because ours are made of caribou hide.  Would you like to touch one?” Rei nodded.  “Why don’t you both come over to the fire.  My mother can get Rei something to eat, and you can tell me how you’ve been since Freeport.”

Keri and Rei were introduced to Auris Ka Syvä and Eila Tär Väinis, and as predicted, Valtteri’s mother soon had the young boy laughing and smiling over a snack of honey-roasted nuts.

“Liv brought those from Whitehill when she visited over the summer,” Valtteri said, settling himself down on a camp chair near the fire.  The chill of winter was already in the air, and Keri wouldn’t be surprised at all if they had snow at some point over the course of the council.

“How is your daughter?” Keri asked, from the chair he’d been offered.

“She is doing well,” Valtteri said.  “Though she was caught up in this wave of eruptions.  She pushed herself hard beneath Bald Peak.”  For a moment, he looked as if he might say more, but instead the older man moved on.  “I saw her off to the Lucanian college at Coral Bay before I came back north.”

“Will she be safe there?” Keri asked.  “After everything that happened in Freeport.”

“As safe as anywhere.  This long peace that we’ve enjoyed – I think now taken for granted – is over.”

“I know there were eruptions all across the north,” Keri said.  “And I hear there was an attack on Soltheris.  The Cult of Ractia.”

“If there remained doubt that the Lady of Blood has returned,” Valtteri said, “it is gone now.  I have information for the council, but I do not know whether they will want to hear it.”

Keri considered his words, while he watched his son across the fire.  Hands and face sticky with honey, Rei had now been led over to the caribou-hide tents, and Eila was encouraging the boy to touch.

“It pains her that she missed my daughter’s childhood,” Valtteri murmured.  “It pains all of us, but sometimes I think my mother feels it most.”

“I’ve hunted the cult across the breadth of the north for over twenty years,” Keri said.  “If anyone knows what a threat they are, it is me.  Whatever you bring to the council, I would speak in your support.  I can speak to my father, as well.”

“Then perhaps you should be forewarned,” the older man said.  “My daughter brought back a captive.  One of Ractia’s great bats, whose conscience rebelled against what was done at Soltheris.  The captive has given us a great deal of information.”

Keri let out a long, low whistle.  “Can it be trusted?  If it can –”

“How much can you ever trust the word of a captive?” Valtteri shrugged.  “And yet.  She told us much we did not yet suspect, and confirmed more of what we did.  Ractia has been gathering her forces since the day of blood.  She has worshippers among not only our people, but the humans as well.  An entire tribe of the great bats serves her, along with a mercenary captain from Lucania, a fire-mage from the east, and even one of the ancient war machines forged by Antris over a thousand years ago.”

“If the humans had listened six years ago,” Keri grumbled, “we might have prevented things from going so far.  A few teams of mages sent to Varuna, and for what?  To disappear into the jungle?”

“There is more,” Valtteri said, lowering his voice and casting a glance about to be certain they could not be overheard.  “I have the name of a traitor.  One who is here among us, now, and one of the goddess’ lieutenants in secret.  I need help to apprehend him, when the time comes.”

“You have it,” Keri said.  “What is your plan?”

☙

When Keri returned to the encampment of House Bælris, he found the great canvas tents and pavilions had been raised.  His cousin Sohvis was helping Rika unroll the furs they had brought for warmth during the cold nights, and she laughed at something that Keri couldn’t hear.  It was the first time he’d seen her smile in weeks, if not months, other than at something Rei did.  The sight of it sent a stab of jealousy through his stomach.

Rei struggled to be set down, and Keri lowered him to the ground.  He watched his son run over to the woman who was his kwenim, throw his arms around her, and be scooped up into the air.  When Rika turned to see Keri, however, standing at the edge of the camp, the smile in her eyes died.  Rather than greet him, she turned and ducked inside the tent, taking their son with her.

“Everything is set to rights, cousin,” Sohvis said, rising and approaching Keri.  “Did you learn anything?”

“Much,” Keri answered.  He tried not to let his feelings color the tone of his voice: Sohvis didn’t deserve that.  The man had only ever been loyal, and Keri’s oldest and most true friend.  “I will need you, and our soldiers, tomorrow.  But for now I must speak to my father.”

Keri and his father spent the evening meal huddled together, and by the end of it Ilmari ka Väinis had agreed to support the House of Syvä during the council.  “I’ve known Auris for a very long time, though he does not leave his home often,” the old man said.  “If he would bring something before the council, I trust that it deserves to be heard.”

“And after?” Keri asked him.  “When the time comes for action.”

“There can be no bloodshed,” Ilmari insisted.  “Help them take him captive, but do not disgrace this place.  And you say this information comes from the actions of the girl you aided in Freeport?”

“Livara Tär Valtteri,” Keri said, into a sudden silence of the kind that sometimes occurs in a place where many conversations are happening at once.  The words carried further than he intended them to, and he caught sight of Rika turning his way with a frown on her face.

“I remember that you once had a vision of a girl with ice-blue eyes,” Ilmari mused.  “The scions of Kelris are known to have such eyes, are they not?”

Keri shrugged.  “She’s talented,” he said.  “I watched her win a duel in the human tradition, while I was in Freeport, and she’s had time to grow since then.  Also, she seems to attract trouble wherever she goes,” he said, with a laugh and a smile that he couldn’t suppress.  “If anyone was going to be mixed up in this, I believe that it would be her.”

“Very well.  We will back House Syvä’s play,” Keri’s father promised.  “I expect Auris has already secured the support of his wife’s house, as well.  Tomorrow promises to be a day full of excitement.”

☙

Keri was permitted to observe the council, but not to speak unless called upon by the elders of the houses.  He found a place with Sohvis and Rika, as uncomfortable as that was, on the great ringed benches of stone that had been raised from the earth of the amphitheatre by their ancestors.  Rei had been sent to play with children of allied houses, with a collection of trusted guards to watch over them.

Though the sacred place was named Kelum Kedim, or the Hall of Ancestors, it was in truth no structure at all.  For a ceiling, there was only the sky; for walls, the carved trees that surrounded them.  At the bottom of the amphitheatre, the elders of the houses gathered, two sent by each family.  Keri recognized most of them: he had not exaggerated when he told Liv’s father that the last twenty years had taken him all across the north.  There was one man, in particular, however, that his eyes returned to over and over again: not one of the elders, but someone among the audience, like Keri himself.  A man with sharp features and green eyes.

“The council recognizes Auris Ka Syvä,” the elder representative of Soltheris declared, and Keri had all he could do to remain still, to put on a show of being relaxed, as if he did not know what was coming.

The old man rose - old even for a child of one of the dead gods, Keri knew.  Liv’s grandfather.  He could see the resemblance in the eyes, the way they glittered like sun off a frozen lake.  “Our contacts in the southlands have brought us word of a defector,” he began.  “An informant.  One who was high in the councils of the Lady of Blood, but who has turned away.”

“Contacts in the south?” the junior elder of House Iravata interrupted.  “With respect, elder, your lands are the furthest north of any of us.  What friends do you have beyond the mountains?”

“My granddaughter has been raised in Lucania,” Auris answered.  “After the eruption at Bald Peak, she returned with a captive who has told us a great deal.  Ractia has not only returned, she has made many allies over the years this council has refused to face her.  Allies from Varuna, of course, and also from the human lands; but from among our own people, as well.  In fact, one of her servants is here right now.”

The man Keri had been watching stirred.  “Stay here,” Keri murmured to Rika, rose from his seat, and slipped through the crowd as quietly as he could.  Around him, he could see not only his own warriors, but men and women in service to other houses, as well, moving among the benches.

“Calevis of House Iravata,” Liv’s grandfather said, his voice strong and confident, “you have betrayed the Vakansa.”

“Preposterous!” The elder who had interrupted before jumped to his feet.  “On what do you base this accusation?  The word of a war criminal?”

“Upon the honor of my own blood!” Auris shouted back.  “Or do you question the word of my granddaughter?”

Keri was almost within reach of Calevis, and he could see Valtteri approaching from the other side when their target rose.

“Enough,” Calevis said, his posture arrogant and dangerous, like a stalking wildcat.  “I betray nothing, and I conceal nothing.  I come only to offer my people a single chance to return to the glory they once knew.”

“Glory?” Keri’s own father stood, now.  “You admit it, then?  You would have us return to a life of slavery?”

“The Unconquered House of Iravata was never a house of traitors,” Calevis said.  “We made peace only because the rebels slaughtered our gods.  Now that the Lady of Blood has returned, we will hold true to our ancient allegiance once again.”

“You do not speak for our house, nephew!” Keri didn’t know the elder’s name, but in that moment he respected the man.  One of Keri’s men shoved his way through the audience and got a hand on Calevis’ shoulder, and then everything fell apart. 

“Æterent Aiveh Yeum Ractim,” Calevis of House Iravata intoned.  Keri felt a sudden wave of pressure, and flinched back from it, as mana erupted at the traitor’s command.  At the center of the amphitheatre, the elder screamed, his skin turning bright red, then blackening and bursting open as flames licked out from inside his body.

The warrior who’d reached Calevis drew back his hand with a howl of agony, and Keri could see it was smoking, as well.  For all the horror of the spell, the man’s intent was clear and steady: it touched no one but those he clearly intended to kill.  The two men who had been struck down writhed on the ground, their very blood burning away from within their bodies.

“Savelet Aiveh Fleia o’Mae!” Keri shouted, thrusting his hand out toward Calevis and letting his mana flow up from inside him, through his arm, and then out of his hand.  For a moment, the sun itself seemed to burn in the amphitheater.  A bar of light so bright that even Keri had to squeeze his eyes closed connected his outstretched hand and the traitor.  He held it only for an instant, and then released the spell.

Calevis of House Iravata had thrown himself down the stone benches, but he hadn’t moved quickly enough.  The lower half of his torso was a smoking wreck, and beneath his hips, nothing remained at all.

“Leave him alive so we can question him,” Valtteri shouted, leaping down from one stone bench to another as people scrambled to get out of the way.

“Æn'Iravatēs,” Calevis coughed, hacking blood up as he struggled to get the words out.  “Thvenent!”

Keri frowned.  There was no obvious sign of magic.  Had the spell failed?

In the trees above the amphitheater, a great shape moved, rustling over the fallen leaves with the rasp of scales.  A great hissing echoed down along the stone benches, and the wyrm lifted its head to stare down upon the Eld gathered there.