Wolves of Empire [EPIC DARK FANTASY] [Book One Complete]

Five

Tali

Kaltoren, Drasken

5th of Satimus

Kaltoren's bulk leered against the horizon many miles before they drew near, slashing lurid shades of white and blue against a landscape otherwise uniformly dull green and rocky grey. From its hulking mass speared towers so high their peaks would be lost on a cloudy day, and for a sickly moment Tali was reminded of the jagged structure on Shaeviren, and the monster that called it home. But she could tell, even from a distance, these towers were man-made, flawlessly symmetrical in a way nature was not. She thought instead of the Empyrian Tower back home in the Imperium, something she'd only ever seen through sketches, or imagined from the stories her father shared. There must be, she guessed, at least fifty such behemoths embellishing the city here.

As they eased closer, Maelstrom shedding altitude, more of Drasken's capital city defined itself. It rose into focus as if surfacing from the ocean, the full spread of it lost to the gentle rolling of the wilderness it had been built within. Even from so far above, she could see the lines of its streets dissecting what must be districts into ordered circles and ovals. They interlocked with one another, and the towers thrust from the gaps between them so not an inch of land was wasted.

Beyond the city's expanse to the east unfurled the glimmering swathe of the sea. The sight of it inspired a pang of longing in her chest; she could almost smell the salty sea air and feel a cooling breeze ruffle her hair.

What she'd at first taken to be birds flocking the towers soon resolved themselves into thunderships of all shapes and classes. They skidded through the sky, moving between the towers or ducking down into the city proper. One hung from the peak of the mightiest tower, towards Kaltoren's centre, clinging to the structure like an oversized tic. It was to the much smaller cloudskimmers what a sea was to a puddle, a wild wolf to a lap dog, a mortal to a god.

Heller must've followed her gaze because he whistled. "That's Risyán, the Keizerin's ship. Biggest damn craft that's ever been built." He angled his head to look at her. "The Jalin told me the Keizerin treats it like her palace, practically lives there."

Tali could understand why. It was a stronghold of a different calibre, so uncomprehendingly huge, she didn't understand how such a thing could leave the ground, let alone cling to a building many hundreds of feet skywards.

Maelstrom angled sharply down, its nose now aimed at the closest tower as they coasted in.

Mariska materialised beside Tali, her duties as the ship's thundermancer redundant now they slowed to land. "I do love this fucking city," the thundermancer murmured. "It's been too long."

"Agree'," Tornjak said from his position slightly down the hallway behind them.

The tower they aimed for was clearly a thundership dock of some kind; its exposed flanks bristled with landing pads and rings Tali equated with the arms of a harbour. People, the size of ants but growing larger, hurried about ships that were, even this close, as small as toys.

"What's the plan?" Shira asked from her seat.

Heller shrugged. "I honestly didn't think this far ahead," he admitted. "We need to speak with Fell. I'm hoping there'll be someone here willing to make that happen."

Maelstrom juddered as it slowed and angled itself over an empty landing pad. Beneath, several people donned in bright red waved to them, directing them, backing away only when the cloudskimmer had set down upon the pad with the gentlest of jolts.

As one, the cadre exhaled, the tension from the previous days' travelling leaking from their lungs. Tali felt no such relief, but rather apprehension. For her uncle and his cadre, this was the end of their mission. Once she was delivered safely to the Jalin, they'd be free to go. She had no such luxury and looked upon her arrival as only the beginning of her journey.

By the time Mariska had extracted any remaining aasiur from the engine, dispelling it, and the rest of them had prepared themselves for departure, a company of guards had arrayed around Maelstrom. Their weapons gleamed in the midmorning sun, their uniforms crisp crimson with grey-furred collars and cuffs.

"What should we do with Katja?" Shira asked.

"Leave her here for now," Heller replied. "Not worth the risk of moving her about. Remember, she was once an immortal mage, however weak her powers may now be."

Heller unlatched Maelstrom's ramp from its flank and descended first, his hands pressed against his chest in a mage's posture of surrender. Shira followed, Tali at her heels, Mariska and Tornjak bringing up the rear. Though self-conscious, Tali copied her uncle and splayed her palms against her chest.

The circle of guards tightened as the cadre stepped down onto the landing pad. Some had already freed their weapons—simple straight-bladed swords—whilst others had their hands unburdened. Tali assumed the latter were mages, and reminded herself this city wasn't like Sinnis, where mages were executed. Rather, it was a sanctuary, and she was here to beg for its protection.

"State your business," one of the guards bellowed in the Drasken tongue. Tali was suddenly thankful her uncle had thought to teach her it, years ago now. It wasn't dissimilar from the Imperium's language, as the two shared an extinct root language.

Heller bowed his head in deference. "I wish an audience with the Jalin," he replied. "I have as my prisoner the mercenary Katja Westervelt."

"Why do you have Westervelt as your prisoner?" the speaker, a fresh-faced young man, demanded.

"She took some of ours prisoner, so it was only fair," Heller replied with a smile. When it became obvious his amicable demeanour wouldn't work here, he elaborated. "We captured her after an altercation out in the Karhes. She works with the mercenaries there."

The young man, clearly an officer, seemed to consider Heller's words, then nodded to the guards on either side of him. As if the silent command had rippled through their ranks, the circle tightened further.

"What are you doing?" Heller said.

"We are apprehending you and your crew," the speaker answered. "We recognise this ship as a stolen Drasken craft. Come quietly and we will have the situation resolved quickly and without issue."

Heller's hands shifted against his chest, as if he meant to open them and conjure. Tali wasn't sure what good his shadowmancy would do here, on a platform exposed to the sun's glare.

"Summon the Jalin. He'll vouch for us," Heller continued.

"The Jalin will not be summoned for the likes of you."

One of the guards moved forward to grab for Heller's arm and seize him. In response, he ducked away and raised his hands, the tell-tale flicker of black shadows tattooing the skin of his palms. Behind him, Shira, Mariska, and Tornjak had adopted similar poses of readiness. Around them, the guards tensed, and weapons that had before been mere accessories became open threats.

Tali ducked her head, wondering how her uncle and his cadre could hope to overcome their opponents. They might've fought off a Novhar, but he'd been only a single enemy, and they'd had the element of surprise on their side. Could she help them, she wondered? Would it be wise to let free her own destructive brand of magic, here in the open an untold height skywards, where anything could go wrong?

On the brink of the first strike, the thunderclap sound of clapped hands split the charged silence. "It depends who does the summoning, Captain."

The voice drifted in from the harbour arm their landing pad was attached to. As if entranced by it, the speaker and his guards stepped back; naked blades returned to sheaths and bared aasiurmantic hands lowered.

"My apologies, sir," the speaker said as he lowered himself to one knee. "I was taking precautions. These people mentioned Katja Westervelt, and I felt it prudent to apprehend them in order to learn the truth."

The newcomer waved away the captain's words and gestured him to his feet. "With any other intruder, I'd whole-heartedly agree. But these are faces I know."

Tali followed the stranger's progress as he paced towards them. He was a tall man, and slender with it. His dark brown hair was short and slicked back, and he wore an easy and open smile on a clean-shaven face. He donned only the simplest of clothes, plain trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, despite the bite to the air this high up. On his arms Tali spied the intricate whorls and tendrils of black-inked tattoos that reached at least up to the base of his neck.

There were no signifiers of rank upon him, no clues why the guard and their captain deferred to him, but Tali had her suspicions.

When the man moved up before Heller, the guards relaxed completely, most of them pulling away from the landing pad. Only a pair shadowed the intruder.

"In the storeroom," Heller said. The tattooed man responded with a nod of his head, and the two guards marched up the ramp and into the thundership.

In their absence, the intruder spread his arms wide and dragged Heller into a backslapping bearhug her uncle was quick to reciprocate. When Heller pulled away, he held the man at arm's length as if to assess him.

"You haven't aged a day, you bastard," Heller said.

The man smirked. "That's more or less the definition of immortal."

"How did you know we were coming?"

"I didn't. Your ship was spotted approaching the city, and it was recognised as one of ours. Only, Maelstrom was stolen last year and never reappeared. I thought my presence might be required."

Heller smiled. "Seems we returned it from the thieves, then. You want it back?"

"Keep it. I think it'll serve you well."

Tali looked on as the man repeated his energetic greeting with the other three members of Heller's cadre. When he reached her, now standing alone with her arms folded self-consciously, his familiarity faded, and he looked at her with a raised brow.

"This is my niece, Tali," Heller said, stepping up beside her.

The man nodded. "I remember you talking of her," he said. He snapped a hand at her, and it took her a second to realise it was in the offer of a handshake, rather than an attack. Warily, she took it.

"Tali, allow me to introduce you to my former mentor, and Jalin of the Drasken Empire," her uncle said with a grin. "Fellan van Ísdonder Drakaaren."

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Her suspicion confirmed, she relaxed somewhat. Rather than the demonic monster Indro had described the Jalin as in his public addresses, this man before her was just that: a man. A man who smiled as easily as her uncle, who hugged old acquaintances as if he were an excitable child, who hadn't seemed to care when Heller called him a bastard. When compared with the immortal power of the Novhar, or the malicious otherness of Erun—the creature that stalked her nightmares—the Jalin was almost disappointingly mundane.

"Please, for all our sakes, just call me Fell," the Jalin said.

She cocked her head in wordless questioning. From what her father had said of the Imperium, a noble's full name was exalted above most else. She hadn't expected Drasken to be any different.

The Jalin, having apparently followed her train of thought, chuckled. "I was born a bondí, a peasant," he said. "I only gained the surname and the 'van' through marriage. I'll always consider myself a poor little farm boy."

The two guards he'd sent onto Maelstrom reappeared with Katja Westervelt held between them. When her eyes settled on the Jalin, she started thrashing in their grips, hissing curses and threats and macabre promises. She tried to spit at him, but it fell short. Fell glanced at her then away, making it clear she was beneath his notice, and Tali couldn't help but empathise with Katja for a moment. The woman had, after all, had her family murdered and been driven from her home by this man. Every decision she'd made after that, and every act as a mercenary, had been with the purpose of gaining vengeance, yet he refused to even acknowledge her.

When she'd been dragged out of sight, the Jalin turned his focus back to Heller, having shrugged off the encounter with professional ease. "So, I assume this isn't a social call."

"Correct," Heller said. "I thought I'd drop Katja off to you; she's one of Indro's. You know him?"

"Of him," the Jalin replied.

"Also, I have a favour to ask of you, regarding my niece."

Fell beckoned to the guard captain, who hopped to attention. "I want you to give Master Boratorren's cadre whatever they need. Give their ship a once-over, then have them settled in the Kronhus. The wing next to mine should be empty." He nodded to Heller. "Walk with me." He flicked his gaze briefly at Tali. "You as well."

Tali fell in behind her uncle as they followed the Jalin. He led them towards the tower's cylindrical shaft, then out to a set of steps carved into the building's flank. Like the tower itself, the stairs looked to be hewn from white stone, as glossy as a marble statue.

Tali's eyes were drawn away from the tower to the winding barrier at the edge of the stairs, and the unreal drop beyond. She sucked in a breath and leaned out over the side, her gaze skimming Kaltoren's expanse below. From such a high vantage, the city looked like a detailed drawing of itself. She was struck with the irrational urge to jump and remembered falling from the Shaeviren tower in her dreams. For a morbid moment she wondered what such a fall would do to her body when she landed, and how the plummet itself would feel.

The Jalin took them down a few levels, then out towards another airborne harbour. This one was unoccupied, its landing pads empty. He halted at the furthest one, far closer to the edge than Tali was comfortable with. When she looked around her, she saw layer upon layer of docks above and below, thrumming with activity. Though she didn't dare glance over the edge again to confirm her guess, she imagined the docks ringed a fair portion of this tower's heights.

"I suppose there's a thrilling story behind how you ended up with Katja Westervelt in your custody," Fell began. He looked to Heller, who only shrugged. "I'll get the details later. For now, let's hear this favour."

Her uncle extended an arm towards her, and she moved to join him. He settled a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it, trying to comfort her. "My niece requires your protection, and your mentoring," he said. "She's my brother Endarion's illegitimate daughter, his youngest child."

"As in Paramount-General Boratorren?" Fell asked with a hitched brow. "The one who led the invasion into Kalduran and destroyed two of its cities?"

"Yep, that sounds like him," Heller confirmed with a wince.

The Jalin shook his head, but there was a smile on his face. "He recently defected to us. I've been told he and the Baltanos intend to topple the Imperium together."

A cocktail of emotions assaulted Tali's mind at the Jalin's words, a potent mixture of hope and fear and relief. What she knew of her father was limited to his position as an important general in the Imperium, and the mutual hatred shared between him and its ruling dynasty. If he'd defected to Drasken, he'd made himself an enemy of his nation. As much an enemy of it as he'd always claimed she was, by virtue of her bastard, half-breed status. Though too distant from him to be elated he yet lived, he was, beyond everything, still her father.

"That sounds like something he'd do," Heller said. He released his grip on Tali's shoulder. "The girl's mother was a soldier in Tharghest during its conflict with the Imperium. She was an Arisen in hiding, probably assassinated by another of her kind. My brother hid Tali, in case the mother's killers came looking for her."

It was the lie he and Shira had settled on, and not much of a stretch from the truth. Her mother had been a Novhar, a fact she'd learned from the Novhar who'd destroyed Alzikanem and pursued her across the continent. Shira had raised concerns about the Jalin abusing this knowledge and using Tali as a weapon should he learn the truth, and so they'd decided her mother would be an Arisen, rather than a member of a long-extinct immortal race. Or, not so extinct, as it turned out.

"After she awoke to her aasiurmancy, she was pursued across west Indaver by agents of Lord Indro. She ended up in Katja's hands, and my cadre and I managed to free her. Hence Katja's presence on our ship."

Another half-truth, because, though Indro had seemed to express an interest in her, he hadn't actively pursued her. That had been the Novhar Heller and Shira both agreed shouldn't be mentioned. The Novhar who'd escaped after their fight and hunted her still.

Fell sliced his gaze between them, both brows raised now. A flicker of doubt sparked in his eyes, though Tali wasn't surprised. From what her uncle had said, this man was so attuned to the ways of magic that lying to him about her own would be almost pointless.

"All right," the Jalin conceded, though Tali knew he didn't wholly believe Heller. "You want her protected from Indro, and her magic honed."

"As you once honed mine," her uncle replied.

Fell's lips quirked in an odd half-smile. "I seem to remember you took my teachings and ran away to join the Fensidium."

Heller laughed. "You don't still begrudge me that? I was young and foolish, and you filled my already inflated head with romantic ideals."

"You know there'll always be a place here for you and your cadre," Fell said. He turned his attention to Tali, and for the first time, she noticed his eyes were an unusual shade of grey, and that it lent his gaze an intensity she wanted to look away from. "I'll mentor her, but I'll have to enrol her in the College as well. She'll need the standard education, and I won't be able to personally protect her at all times."

"But you will protect her?" Heller pressed.

The Jalin nodded and wrinkled his nose, as if to say, Of course, and I'm offended you had to force the point.

As Fell assessed her, his gaze sharp enough to peel back the layers of her mind and expose even the dimmest recesses of her thoughts, she struggled to picture him as the man Katja had framed him as. She tried to stuff the malicious visage of a tyrant killer into him, tried to imagine him standing over the murdered bodies of Katja's family, tried to swap out his amicable smile for a maniacal one. But, since she'd seen him embrace her uncle, she'd been unable to. He looked, if anything, like a scholar, his frame spare rather than muscled, his eyes bright rather than evil, his smile genuine rather than false. Though almost of a height with Heller, Tali had no doubt her uncle could defeat this man if it came to raw strength and not even look winded.

That was probably where his status as an accomplished mage came in.

"Go and re-join your cadre, Heller," the Jalin said. "I'll speak with the girl alone."

Though Fell spoke without the authority afforded his position, Heller still bowed and moved away on command, leaving Tali alone with a stranger for the first time in weeks. She wanted to crumble beneath his notice, or run after her uncle, or feign sickness, but she had to remind herself she'd faced down a Novhar several times without this amount of childish fear.

"You're half-Dontili," Fell stated when Heller had disappeared around the staircase.

Her hands snapped instinctively to her protruding horns, as if the mere act of hiding them could make him forget they were there. When no one else commented on them or her skin's grey pallor, it was easy to forget her half-breed status.

"I didn't mean it as an insult," he clarified. "I just wasn't familiar with any Dontili Arisen."

She floundered for a response. He was testing her story when neither Heller nor Shira could lie in her stead. "Nor was I. My mother died when I was young."

"I understand some of that pain," the Jalin replied. "My parents died several centuries ago, and I only got a comparatively short time with them."

She sucked in a surprised gasp before remembering the immortality much of Drasken's ruling class boasted. Fell had called himself a bondí, a peasant, which meant his parents probably hadn't gained immortality alongside their son.

He noted her confused expression, and said, "Three hundred and seventeen, before you ask."

"What?"

"That's how old I am," he said. "Practically a shrieking newborn to the Varkommer. My wife, the Keizerin, is more than twice that, and she's still considered young."

Tali tried to wrap her head around the numbers. Her father was two years shy of fifty, and he was the oldest person she knew. He was burdened with decades of history and had always seemed to be on the brink of buckling beneath the weight. The Jalin was six times that, and no doubt harboured a proportionate quantity of his own burdens.

"If you complete your education, you'll be immortal as well."

Not something she'd ever considered. She was sixteen, an age where her life already stretched unendingly ahead of her without the added horizon of potential immortality. Could she even comprehend living for centuries, millennia, longer? She'd been in the presence of a Novhar—who could apparently live for tens of thousands of years—and held regular night-time conversations with the strange entity Erun—who was quite possibly older still—yet she'd never placed herself in their shoes.

"Daunting, I know," Fell said with a smile. "I wasn't much older than you when I made the decision to pursue immortality. My reasons were different, I'm sure. I wasn't hunted by a warlord, after all."

"What were your reasons?" Tali asked.

As much as Katja's claims still rang loud and pertinent at the forefront of her mind, she found her defences lowering. She wanted to like this man, who'd already pledged to protect her, and planned to mentor her as he'd once mentored her uncle. He didn't know the full extent of her abilities, but maybe he wouldn't want her as his tool, his weapon, even if he did know.

And he was a murderer, of course, but so was she. Did she have the right to judge him when she'd killed, albeit inadvertently, an untold number of innocents in Sinnis, and again when she'd brought one of Katja's cloudskimmers down with a fireball?

"A cliché," the Jalin replied. When she canted her head in questioning, he added, "The reason most young men do anything: I fell in love with a woman. She was already immortal, and if I wanted any hope of being with her, I needed to follow her."

"The Keizerin?" Tali asked.

Fell nodded. "I was lucky she had such low standards," he said with a grin. He looked about him, as if to ensure they were alone. "Tell me, is this what you want? Do you want to be trained?"

"You think my uncle's coercing me?"

"Not intentionally," Fell replied. "Heller's a good man. My concern is that this is something he thinks is best for you, but not something you necessarily agree with."

Though once the case, Tali wasn't sure she could contest her uncle's plans for her. As much as she'd wanted to be free of her confinement on Alzikanem, she was beginning to understand the naivete of her dreams. Adventuring with her uncle's cadre in the Karhes was no longer possible, same as returning to her home island. Anything that didn't involve the protection of a much more powerful mage no longer seemed possible.

"I don't have a choice," she said. "Indro's after me, and he'll find me eventually."

"What's his interest in you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. He spotted me in a crowd and seemed to know me. Since then, his agents have been on my trail." Not his agents, of course, but a Novhar. But she couldn't tell the Jalin that. "I saw a mage executed in Sinnis. I don't want to die like that."

Fell frowned, the expression compromising the agelessness of his face. "I'd heard they were doing that. Just as I'd heard they've cast me as the villain." He fixed her with a strange look. "What were you doing in Sinnis? That's the other side of the continent from the Imperium."

Another shrug, this one to conceal her lack of answer. She couldn't tell him she'd worldstrode to Sinnis, not when he needed to be under the impression she wasn't half-Novhar. From what Shira had said, the way she'd 'strode—without a clear destination, and by mindless instinct—would be an indication of her rare ability and power. Worldstriders, Shira had said, needed to know exactly where they were 'striding to. Anything less would result in them catapulting themselves into the aether. Tali's first and only two 'strides had happened in a fit of panic, without any such knowledge.

The Jalin waited for an answer. Her continued silence would just increase his suspicion, so she fabricated a lie on the spot. "Shira and I were snatched on Alzikanem. Our attackers worldstrode us to Sinnis, and we managed to escape."

"Attackers?"

"The ones who killed my mother, I assume. We didn't hang around long enough to find out."

Again, it was clear he didn't believe her, but he didn't press. "Right," he said. "I want you enrolled in the College, so you can learn with other mages your age alongside what I can teach you privately. I'll give you a few days to settle in before you're expected to attend any lessons."

"College?"

Fell pointed out towards Kaltoren's centre, his forefinger aimed at a cluster of sky-piercing towers. "You see the shortest, thickest tower?" he said. "That's Ren Câdern, the foremost aasiurmantic college in the world. As Jalin, I am its overseer. That's where you'll spend most of your time, and where your room will be."

It was just a blur in the distance, a fat bulk in comparison to the more slender, graceful buildings rising around it. She couldn't make it out very well, and therefore couldn't imagine it as her new home.

"My youngest son is your age. I'll ask him to help you out, guide you around, that sort of thing."

Tali bowed her head in acknowledgment but found her tongue too thick in her mouth to talk. It was an overwhelming development, made real for the first time now she was actually here, standing in the presence of the Jalin as he promised her a new, safer life. Being on the run from immortal pursuers, seeking refuge in Verden, taken captive on Katja's ship, reuniting with the cadre aboard Maelstrom; all these things were simple, actions meant to get her somewhere without having to worry about where.

But now she was finally here, and it was almost too much.