Keepers of Novakrayu – Chapter Seventy-Six
As soon as Emalia entered, I knew something was wrong. Demetria swiveled, ending her conversation abruptly with Ignatia to watch as Emalia ran up to me. With each word she uttered, I felt myself grow colder with creeping dread. Of course, the Targul did not finish the job. I shouldn't have trusted them to be thorough, I thought as she explained the situation.
"We need a representative of the han to promise them fair treatment. My word won't be enough," she said, finally stopping to catch her breath.
"A cabal of Sorcerers threatens us, and you wish to parley? I will go and crush them. Protis."
My Soulborne moved like a statue come to life, coming to my side immediately. But before I could begin to stride away, Demetria caught my arm. "Don't take the risk," she said.
I looked from her to Emalia, who was about to protest. "We cannot risk having snakes in our den," I said. "They will never cease being a problem unless we stop them right now."
"Perhaps. Or we can face them when we are better prepared. Emalia, how many were there?"
"Thirty, I think. And they have Sovina! We can't just attack them!"
I sighed and looked around. People were watching us, and though we spoke in somewhat hushed voices, only a fool would miss the conflict present. So many of them could die because of these priests' actions. I reassessed the situation and gazed into Emalia's frantic eyes. "Did he seem truly willing to negotiate? This priest?"
"Wracen is desperate, but he understands the futility, I think. He wants to protect his people." She nodded to the doorway exiting the hall. "Can we go now? We need to find a Targul representative."
"Not so hastily." I looked at Demetria and found her ready. "Gather the New Pethan Sorcerers. We can't move the Artifact without arousing suspicion from these priests, I would imagine, but we can have a contingency force ready to counterattack near their temple."
"You should let me speak to them," Demetria said.
"I can't do that. You know that."
"A soft hand would avoid violence."
"So can an iron one."
She leaned in closer. "How many Sorcerers attacked you and Maecia? Were you invincible then? We are equally defenseless in the face of so many. Let me speak to them."
It wasn't said to aggravate me—there was too much empathy in her words and understanding flowing through our bond—yet I bristled anyway. Only momentarily. She was right. What did they call it? My Oath of Hubris? I shook my head, forcing myself to swallow the decision and be logical about it. "Fine. I will gather our Sorcerers." She nodded and went to join Emalia. I said after her, "Be careful. If anything goes wrong, protect yourself, use the gambeson. I will be moments away." I gestured to Protis. "Protect her."
The Soulborne grunted.
Emalia asked, "What of the Targul? Who should we bring?"
Of course, Demetria already had the answer to such a question, saying, "Come, there are some of their nobility close by. The han is out of the question, but I know of a few who will have power here."
They left in a hurry, and all I could do was watch. It felt like sand slipping through my fingers. Like a lost piece of parchment caught in the wind, just out of reach. I shook myself and called over Ignatia and Desirdus. They were only a few steps away, attentive to the apparent conflict.
"I want every Sorcerer you have with me. Now. We meet at the city's largest temple." I turned to the mercenaries, drunk but not so merry, also attuned to my distress. "Bury the statue and clear out the hall. The entire keep, in fact." They knew better than to argue and tore themselves from their celebrations with the hurried professionalism I paid them for.
I left for the temple, bringing a local as my guide, and tried not to think of what dangers my love was in. Of how helpless I was to protect her once more.
…
"These shaman dissidents threaten their own people, and you want to appease them?" the noble titled hetman, commander of a banner under the Black Han, Orest asked in fluent Vasian. "This may very well be a trap laid to assassinate people of import."
"It is not, Hetman Orest," Demetria replied, somehow patient even as they hurried through the empty streets of Novakrayu. Emalia could think of nothing but the imminent danger to everyone, Sovina most of all. Striding behind in silence was Protis, giving all a few paces of space. "Emalia found them out. Revealing themselves opens them up for reprisal should they use the Artifact."
"An Artifact we are hearing of just now, I would point out."
"We just found it, of course."
"Of course." He didn't try to hide his annoyance at the mild secret but shrugged it away. "They beg for cooperation and consideration. What do they expect? Annihilation and subjugation of their priests? We care not for local religious practices as long as they do not intrude upon our rule."
Emalia jogged to the stone building ahead. Demetria followed just behind and said, "A good point to present, I think. If they know we mean no harm, they may comply."
"After the threat of Sorcery, I am inclined toward harm."
Demetria stopped at the doorway, and Emalia cursed silently, wishing to run on ahead. The diplomat turned and faced the hetman. "As Emalia argued inside, stability is good for all. Religion eases the mind and heart. Making a show of peace here may translate to peace with all in the city. Let us deal with them fairly and reasonably, and if Emalia's assessment of this Wracen is accurate, then we may avoid needless death. Is this agreeable? Or will you continue to resist the ally of your han?"
He let out a sigh and bowed slightly. "My apologies. My cowardly doubt overcame me. You are correct to seek peace with these Sorcerers, as I am sure the Black Han will agree when he is later briefed."
A weak show of deference, for Emalia figured his words held some degree of sarcasm. She hoped he would comply still. "Let's go. Please," she said, stepping inside the false archive.
Demetria gave him one last long look, then entered alongside Emalia. They quickly dove into the descending tunnel leading to the secret chamber, Protis following at their rear from a close distance.
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"Will this man be a problem?" Emalia whispered.
"If he is, I will deal with it."
"Okay." She wasn't sure how, given the Targul were the ones to rule Novakrayu, after all. This nobleman would have the most say out of any of them. "I'm trusting you. If we fail—"
"I know. I have been in this position before, Emalia."
She glanced at the Pethyan's stony expression and cringed inwardly. "Right… I'm sorry."
"No need." Demetria raised her voice. "The lives of many rest on us yet again. We shall do right by the innocents in harm's way."
Orest grunted, which Emalia hoped was a good sign.
Soon, they were before the Sorcerous warded door to the ritual chamber. Emalia opened it, and Demetria inhaled sharply, muttering loud enough so both could hear, "This is dangerous. One false move and there is enough Sorcery to activate the Artifact in full capacity. Incredible."
The priests had not moved from their circle. Sovina stood to the side, saber in her sheath, face flat and grim, yet she was unharmed. Emalia sighed in relief at the sight, finally able to banish her fears since leaving this place earlier. She, Demetria, and Orest stood side by side, with Protis looming like a horrible visage in the doorway. To them, at least, she thought, feeling reassured by the Soulborne's unshakeable presence.
Wracen approached but kept a good few paces off, ever cautious. "You've come. Demetria and…"
"Hetmen Orest under Taraz, the Black Han of the Tulir Steppes," Demetria answered for him. "He may represent Targul interests in Novakrayu, now that occupation has been established."
"Has it? We seem unfettered here."
"For now," Orest said. "But should you continue this madness…"
"You brought that creature." He pointed at Protis. "Do you think the threat is lost upon me?"
Demetria spread her hands. "Consider it insurance. You have one of our own in your midst and have us quite outnumbered. My Daecinus would not let me enter this negotiation without some protection, you see."
"Yet you are a Sorcerer of some power yourself."
"Just enough to know the responsibility I bear when I call upon the power of Souls," Demetria replied, scanning the faces of the priests. "We have a burden to protect, us Sorcerers. You wish to see your people free of oppression and suffering—this is admirable. But your perception of the problem at hand is misconstrued. See the Targul as an opportunity, not an enemy."
The priest frowned and looked at Orest. "Is that what you invaders are? Opportunity? You've blighted our horizons, swallowing southern settlements like a plague, harrying our borders with ruthlessness. Why would I believe you promise peace now?"
The targul hetman crossed his arms. "The Great Han expands his reach not just to dominate, Priest. Everywhere the Targul go, faiths and cultures flourish. None are outsiders within our borders unless they seek to undermine our authority." He raised his chin at them. "Your threat is a desperate one of defiance, but the Black Han is a generous ruler and will offer to look past this incident in favor of a peaceful transition of power. Your people deserve this, do they not?"
Wracen chewed on this, distraught, brow tensed. He glanced at Emalia. "And you will stay and advocate for the temple? For the people of Novakrayu?"
"I will. Sovina and I."
"Emalia is trusted," Demetria said. She looked at Orest. "And she may be our delegate while we are away. She knows Vasia and Vasian ways but is not loyal to their imperialistic tendencies—she is a resource to take advantage of."
The hetman nodded. "Of course. The Black Han trusts you, and therefore, so do I. That will extend to her."
Demetria faced the priests once more. "But little progress can be made while you possess a Spell that would spread doom to innocents. Let us speak and reach a more thorough understanding."
"I want to know one more thing," he replied, taking in a deep breath, "and answer honestly: what plans do you have for Novakrayu? Why help the Targul here?"
"Besides the obvious of reducing unnecessary suffering, of course? In the spirit of transparency, as you deserve as a steward of your temple and people, we intend to oppose Vasia. Novakrayu will be a launching point for the campaign west."
He swallowed and looked away, bearing an expression of dread. "Gods, it is true then. The Isle and the Targul… You would ask us to help you destroy our home nation, our empire?"
"The imperial tsardom of Vasia has not been your friend for over a century," Emalia said. All turned to look at her, and she tried to keep her back straight and head high with competent confidence. "The Column never once took your requests for rejoining the realm seriously. They never considered campaigning east to connect with your borders or send aid. Not once. They haven't simply forgotten Novakrayu but abandoned it."
The man seemed to wither before her. Shoulders sinking, head lowering, hands fretting, yet he still asked, "Maybe so, but we have a duty… a responsibility to Vasia."
"Over your own people? Such responsibilities are mutually exclusive here. Don't put all your hopes on some savior that isn't real—this is your reality. You must accept it. Do what you can now, not in some intangible, impossible future." As the words left her lips, she felt them resonate deep inside. As if Emalia was speaking some truth she never knew she believed. Something she desperately needed to hear, just never figured it would be from herself.
Curious.
Demetria nodded along. "Your charge is your city, and it needs your leadership to thrive, for it is no longer adrift in a sea of opposition but part of a larger state that can protect it."
"If we put down our Spell," Wracen murmured, "then Novakrayu loses its last blade. If we are killed, then our city is opened up. Made vulnerable. Would you have us expose ourselves so?"
Demetria stepped forward. Behind, Emalia heard Protis shift as if preparing to charge. She put a hand on the priest's shoulder and looked down into his eyes, tall as she was. "Sometimes a blade can be a danger to the wielder, Wracen. Strength is an admirable trait, but it is not expressed merely in opposition. Let us end this peacefully, without any more needless deaths."
"You speak of peace, yet it was you who brought war here," he protested, though there was no spirit in it, just petty complaints of one who is giving in. "I want assurances from you all, please."
Emalia was the first to speak, "I will do all in my power to keep the peace. You have my word."
Demetria followed, "And she is bestowed with the powers to advocate for us."
All looked to Hetmen Orest. He sighed and nodded along. "I will do what I can, and that includes listening to Priestess Emalia here, if you think it right. No one wants more war."
Wracen nodded and gave a signal. The priests worked together, bending their Sorcery. She didn't know what to see exactly but watched Demetria, who seemed interested in their Sorcery, particularly the use of the ivory floor. I wonder if she will try to have it ripped out and taken? Emalia thought as the priests chanted and incanted as one body. No, it would undermine our peace. And then she remembered Daecinus with his Sorcerers just above them. Would he try to… Don't be foolish. No one will gain more from risking their lives in battle than following a reasonable peace. And Daecinus is a sensible man. She looked across the chamber at Sovina, slowly approaching as if not to disturb the Sorcery.
"Are you okay?" Emalia asked.
Sovina nodded. "I asked them questions while you were gone. To their knowledge, there are no more sorcerers in the city besides those here. Might want to verify that, though." She glanced to Demetria, who nodded absent-mindedly, still watching the ritual of sorts. "And nothing else like that Artifact. It was their trump card. Kept with the voivode as a compromise between the priests and the city. The fool voivode likely didn't know they could activate it from anywhere."
"At least it's over. There's finally peace."
"Good work."
"You too," she said. "Everyone."
Sovina scoffed and came in closer, brushing a strand of Emalia's hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear, then leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Accept my compliment. It was mostly you, Em."
"Sovina speaks true," Demetria said. "And while I don't wish to interrupt, we should go tell Daecinus. He is likely worrying himself sick, and this space muddles the bond."
Emalia took a deep breath. Demetria did all the talking, and if Sovina didn't have her idea to stay behind… She wanted to keep rationalizing her irrelevance to the outcome, but maybe they were right. It was a hard thing to swallow. Misguided and confused as she was, newly uncertain about the gods she so long thought she had direct communion with… well, her self-doubt was a stain that would mar any manuscript page, no matter how well illuminated it was. Perhaps, eventually, she would find her way, and it would all make sense. But until then?
She gave the priests one last look as she left, following Demetria out. They were scared, uncertain, and drained. Emalia hesitated, then said to her allies, "Go. I will stay behind and speak with them." The priests looked up at her. They were as lost as she. Perhaps more so. I can learn from them. Learn, then maybe persuade them. She saw a future of something lasting cultivated here within the temple. Something beyond Sorcery and mistrust. What exactly, she couldn't say, but it was there.
She just had to reach for it.