The Column of Ash [Epic Fantasy]

Emalia hid the Corruption from Sovina, who was finally asleep, as she inspected herself by the firelight, terrified. Only from a single wound? How could it be? Maybe it has to do with all the Sorcerous exposure I've had, she thought, staring at it. It didn't seem real. Veins with blood black as oil in her skin. Veins she couldn't even see before, dark and angry. She'd had minor cases before but nothing like this. This wouldn't go away with time—it would only get worse.

And then came another terrifying notion, What if this impacted Sovina too? She took wounds from the creature—more than I, in fact. She crept over to Sovina and squinted at her brow, trying to see if the cut on her forehead was clear. She saw no signs of Corruption. Then, the wrist. It was covered and bandaged more thoroughly.

She shook Sovina awake. Ensuring her safety was more important than keeping her own Corruption hidden, even if it would frighten her unnecessarily, as much as she wished to have a solution ready first. "I need to inspect your arm."

Sovina inhaled sharply, sat up, and scanned the surroundings. "I was asleep?"

"Yes. But it's alright. You can't stay up all night every night watching over us. Besides, Protis is on the perimeter." She took Sovina's arm and peeled back the bandage. It was clear. Emalia breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she whispered. "Gods, thank you."

"What is it?"

Emalia swallowed and showed her stomach.

"Oh," Sovina muttered. "Oh fuck. I-is that…? Oh, Em…"

"It's okay. I'm fine."

She reached forth tentatively and touched the webbing of dark veins. "This is bad. We should turn back, see what help we can get in Novakrayu."

"What? No, we can't turn back!"

"Wracen and the Sorcerer priests might know something about this, Em!"

"Maecia might too. We need to see what she's doing out there! Think of our mission."

"Daecinus kept it at bay because of his Sorcery or biology or whatever. You can't."

Emalia stood, paced closer to the fire, and sighed. "We're closer to the Grand Observatory than Novakrayu. Turning back isn't the safer play anymore."

"We don't know if Maecia would help us. We're planning a reconnaissance mission," Sovina replied, her voice hard and uncompromising. "That means no contact."

"I know, but maybe we'll decide she can be trusted…"

Out of the forest came a deep, raspy voice that made her jump, "She can be." It was Protis.

"Do you… remember if she knows anything about this? Daecinus didn't speak much on it," Emalia said, turning to catch its hulking form there in the outskirts of the trees, still as one of the trunks, though far wider.

Protis stared out into the night for at least thirty seconds without saying a word. "She died before us. Before him." The Soulborne grunted. "City Sorcerers weaker than she. You need strength."

It talks as if it were Daecinus… So odd. She shook her head, unsure of what to make of that for now. She had her own problems to sort out, clearly. "So we keep going."

"I don't like it," Sovina muttered. "If it starts to spread…"

"Then we go faster."

"What if she's against him? If this secret project at the Observatory is some scheme?"

"She is loyal," Protis said. "She is."

Sovina shook her head, arms crossed. "We're operating on information hundreds of years old. She's likely changed. Daecinus has, and he's only been awake for a little over a year. For all we know, this construction could be in direct response to his awakening. We simply don't know." She held Emalia by the shoulders and stared into her eyes with the kind of fervency and care that Emalia often found so inspiring. But now, she was too scared to feel anything but desperation. "And that's why I hate pinning your health on this. On her. It's a risk."

Protis was silent, and Emalia found herself tossed about and rattled, like back when she'd fallen off the icy mountainside east of Drazivaska. "Then maybe we adapt. If my Corruption worsens, we go in like oblivious friends or explorers. I don't know." She sat, legs feeling wobbly from it all. Sovina knelt beside her, supporting her. "I need to know what she's doing. I just need to."

"Why, Em? Leave it to Daecinus and Demetria and their damn invasion. It's not our problem anymore."

"But it is. Everything is," she said, voice lighting with some wellspring of emotion rising of its own volition. "Listen, I'm sorry to drag you into this—"

"Don't ever be."

"But I have a bad feeling, Sovina. Like something terrible is going to occur, and I need to verify it. I need to help if I can. You must understand that."

Her partner regarded her for a long moment, jaw tensed and working. And then she nodded. "Okay. We go."

Emalia relaxed. Turning around could be safer, but she had set out on this mission to get answers, to resolve the unsettling intuition that they were missing something important. Giving up now was unacceptable. She didn't know why; perhaps she was just too empathetic for her own good, taking responsibility for others when it wasn't her place, but she felt she owed it to people to figure out the truth. She owed it to the world.

Sovina asked Protis for a report, but it was silent all around. The few Greyskins they encountered were an isolated group. In fact, Protis had killed two on its own before slaying the third in camp. The fourth had approached quietly. An insidious, almost too-clever strategem. But that was the threat of these mountains. Though much worse things hid in the darkness than just intelligent Greyskins. Emalia shuddered and built the fire up a little more, drank some water, and then tried to pray to Raizak for his protection against the Corruption in her, foolish as it might be. The Corruption felt like cold water in her veins, ash on the tongue, a hollowness in the bones.

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…

I stared at the collection of archons gathered before me in the official city meeting chamber—for most of whom, this was the first time they'd ever seen me—and did my best to maintain my patience. I should have brought Demetria for this, I thought, yet knowing I needed someone back in Aurelasar as a regent of sorts. Still, I despised negotiations. A day of talks and still they balked at compliance, refusing to cede their demands for guarantees of autonomy, protection, and freedom from the land taxes I needed to finance the war. Even my generous promises of loot from the war were insufficient for the greedy landholders. But that was what hereditary power did to a nation—burdened it with the petty, narrow-minded, and selfish. If Maecia made one mistake here, it was letting the archons empower themselves so.

Still, I remained calm and patient before their whinings, and they had not come to true revolt, as Eudoxia called it. For this, I was grateful. To kill my own people would be almost too much.

With me, I had a few of my Merkenian guards and Ignatia. I also had two Soulborne standing outside, fit with oversized weapons and basic iron plates for armor.

"Oh, Great Oathkeeper," the presumptive leader addressed me, using flattering, formal language as he composed a response to my final list of demands, "we recognized your title as High Magistros and applaud the vision of your ambitious assault westwards, but we cannot accept the terms of the offered agreement. Not in full, at least. Please understand that Ersani is not in the same position as Aurelasar—we do not have the men to dedicate to this campaign nor the silver you ask of us."

"Ask of you?" I leaned forward upon my heavy wooden chair, arm upon the table, one silk robe sleeve pulled back to reveal the many Artifacts upon my good arm. "I did not ask. I demanded, and you have disobeyed me. For hours now, I have faced your insolence with patience and understanding—"

"Then understand, Oathkeeper, that such demands are extortionate! We cannot meet them without facing poverty!"

"Watch your tone with the High Magistros," Wendof barked in Vasian from over my shoulder, not knowing Pethyan yet catching enough to see the disrespect.

"Quiet," a different archon snapped back. "Know your place, Merkenian."

I raised my hand, stilling Wendof's coming jeer. Aelle would want to threaten them next, too. My men were not used to the manners required of them here. Not that I was, either. "You cannot expect to slink away from this commitment. This war requires all of our efforts."

"Historically, we've had our rights as archons of the east protected," the leader explained. "Rents and labor paid in kind annually, but nothing of this scale. It simply goes beyond all past precedent and understanding. And all the while, changes occur that have people wary."

"Wary," I repeated.

"It is true. Let us be honest with each other, Oathkeeper. You're implementing changes at a rapid pace, upsetting a balance that has offered stability for generations. We are concerned it will come to our detriment. And, indeed, it already is."

"Yet you ask for virtual autonomy. I cannot grant that."

"And we cannot pay what you require. It is simply not feasible. There is no such silver to be had."

I wanted to threaten them, to bend them, but I thought of Demetria and the ability with which she could disarm and befriend even enemies, playing to their desires, making her demands sound like favors.

Behind me, Ignatia was standing with a dependable unshakeability. She leaned forward and murmured in my ear, "Archons are proud, Returned One. Even us of Aurelasar. But more so, they are afraid. The Honorary Episcos… Maecia, well, she prepared us for quiet isolationism, not seizing the initiative."

I sighed and nodded, leaning back, pinning the archons with an even stare. "You will not pay? Very well, but I expect men from each one of you, properly equipped. I know some of you are Sorcerers or have some in your employ, so a Sorcerer will nullify, say, my ask for a dozen men, so long as they are powerful enough to be of use in battle. Give me a professional bearing armor and good weaponry, and I'll ask for five fewer men. If you can't give me coin, then you will give me soldiers. You will compensate them as needed, though they will get a cut of the twenty-five percent of the loot I'm promising you, but if you commit nothing, expect no reward."

As they convened to discuss my ask, apparently with some true consideration, I glanced over to Ignatia. She nodded curtly, approvingly.

They were right in my ignorance of their ways—I was an outsider, even if their ancestor and worshiped savior. An odd combination, to be certain.

"What did you tell them?" Bowyer asked.

I explained, and Wendof muttered. "That's the way it's done back home. Good to see you listening, High Magistros."

I chuckled. "We all can benefit from listening more."

"Eh, sometimes. I don't know about these people. You're their king, more or less, but they sure don't act like it."

"I am a usurper legitimized only by myth and legend."

Bowyer scanned the chamber and shook his head. "You're also legitimized by your strength."

"The only thing that matters," Aelle muttered.

Wendof scoffed. "Look at the two of you. Be reasonable. If that was true, then the moment Daecinus was weak, they'd stab him in the back. He needs more than a heavy fist. They're just stubborn is all."

I considered his words as we waited for the archons to return and address me. Typically, in my experience, the desire to win favor could counter the tendency to fight against burdened taxes and the like. Why not here? Why such resistance to my rule? Was it only because I was something of an outsider? Perhaps. They also simply might not care for my campaign and intent, seeing the war as nothing more than a needless cost, for their safety was thought to be guaranteed by their navy and Sorcerers. They were wrong, of course, but was there any way for me to show them the error of their preconceptions? The cruel reality and danger of their situation?

Unlike the magistrosi, they didn't seem to care about the priest's return. Ignatia had told me that not all New Pethans were alike and that I would likely find more resistance in the east than west of the isle. A Traditionalist perspective on Maecia's mythos was popular in the West but less so in the East, where they were further from my sister's rule and influence. I supposed this was the consequence of that, in part.

Still, something just didn't make sense about it all. Even a religious perspective didn't explain it all.

"We agree to the principles of the terms," the leader said after returning. "Of course, discussion must be had on the exact numbers, but I presume an agreeable compromise will be found."

I smiled and nodded, relieved. Maybe it would work out after all.

We spoke more that day, and the next, and the one after. Eventually, a fine enough agreement was reached. I wouldn't get the money I needed, but I did get more men for the war and promises of stability upon my departure. Most of their previous autonomy was codified and protected—a necessary but infuriating compromise.

Would it be enough? Could I have gotten more out of them?

Such questions haunted me. It was easy to strike a deal now, but one could pay for it later with the lives of men. Money afforded food, transport, weapons and armor, even mercenaries like the Targul riders I would use as auxiliaries… I needed all such things for such a large, sprawling campaign. Vasia would surely manage an army of significant scope. They had the men and resources for it. My new home was much smaller with a unique set of challenges, one of which was a lack of experience in large-scale land warfare. Could I tip the odds?

Once winter came and passed, we would cross the sea and land.

Half a year at most, and it would begin. There was no third chance of victory after this.

I would not see my new home lost so easily. Still, nightmares of my failures in Pethya haunted me, and the dread of repeating those mistakes here was a heavy burden. We couldn't be weak.

I couldn't be weak.

That is why I decided to show the archons who they were to bow to.

I chose one of the more outspoken, rebellious archons, charged with his modestly trumped-up crimes of disobeying my newly instituted bans on mainland raids, and upon a hastily erected platform in the middle of the town of Ersani, I seared the Soul from his bones with Soulfire. It was the first time in generations anyone had seen such potent, horrifying Sorcery, and though I was not nearly as strong as I once was, I managed with all my new Artifacts, melting him to stinking sludge and sheening white ivory.

I looked across the faces of the archons commanded to attend and met the eyes of each and every one. Forcing away my guilty conscience for betraying Maecia's peaceful rule, I focused on these archons, my subjects, and demanded obedience.

By their lowered eyes and sworn oaths, I think they finally obeyed.