Zelle brought the staff down on the gremlin’s head, stunning it mid-flail, before picking it up one-handedly and tossing it out the open window. The gremlin, which resembled a human child formed of a papery substance with needle-like teeth and claws, yowled once before vanishing from sight out of the stone tower.
Gremlins were frankly the least of the problems plaguing the Sentinels’ outpost, but they were among the few Zelle was able to handle. Being magical constructs and not living creatures, they felt no pain and consequently elicited no guilt when she caught and tossed each one out of the tower. Two large eagles watched the gremlins tumble from the window with curious eyes, as did Chirp, the wild dragonet who’d formed a strong bond with one of her companions.
“Another one.” Grandma shoved a struggling gremlin into her hands, which Zelle shoved out of the open window to join the others. “I don’t see the point in throwing them out when they’ll reappear by the morning anyway, personally.”
“I prefer not to have constructs creeping around me while I’m sleeping.” Zelle yanked the window closed with a firm hand.
“Too right.” Aurel lifted her auburn head from where she lay sprawled in an armchair near the fireplace. She’d collapsed into it as soon as they’d entered the tower and had barely moved since. Zelle didn’t blame her, given that they’d spent almost the entire day travelling home from Itzar and had little expected to arrive in Zeuten to find Aurel’s home surrounded by elite assassins.
Their narrow escape to the Sentinels’ outpost in the mountains of the Range ought to have exhausted Zelle, too, but restlessness stirred beneath her skin and prompted her to search the various corners and cabinets for more unwelcome guests. Addressing her grandmother, who occupied the second armchair, she asked, “Is the Shaper conjuring the gremlins in response to what’s going on down in the village, do you think?”
“No,” Grandma replied shortly. “For the Powers’ sakes, girl, sit down. You’re making me twitchy.”
In the corner, Evita jumped at the Sentinel’s sudden command. The tall, lanky former assassin had been hovering near the window without taking a seat, no doubt keeping an eye on her dragonet companion, who was now too large to fit through the doorway and had to wait outside with the eagles they’d borrowed from their hosts in the Isles of Itzar.
“Grandma, don’t yell at people. One of us needs to keep an eye out for trouble.” At least the elderly Sentinel must be feeling better than the last time Zelle had seen her, after she’d been injured in the attack from the warriors from Itzar who’d captured Aurel. She looked better, certainly, the colour having returned to her tanned face, despite her recent escapades in dodging the Changers.
What a mess we’ve landed in this time.
The old Sentinel gave Zelle a disgruntled look. “The assassins aren’t going to fly up here this close to nightfall. They know they won’t get in, and it’d be a wasted effort.”
“So was taking over Tavine, for the Powers’ sakes.”
Granted, the Changers believed themselves to be following the orders of Gaiva, the creator goddess and one of the three Great Powers, but Zelle knew that to be untrue. Not least because she’d seen Gaiva’s remains scattered around Itzar less than a day prior to their arrival home.
No, it was another deity entirely who influenced them, one who’d allied with the man who’d been partly responsible for their visit to Itzar to begin with. Naxel Daimos, Rien’s sworn enemy, and now possibly the most dangerous man in the known world.
I imagine Daimos intended to send a message. The voice, which came from the staff Zelle had propped against the wall next to the window, spoke clearly in her mind, unheard by any of the others.
Zelle gave a short laugh. “Unless he really wanted Aurel’s priceless junk collection.”
“Hey, there are some real valuables in there,” Aurel protested. “Not to mention most of my clothes. You didn’t think to pack any of them, Grandma?”
Grandma Carnelian shot her a withering look. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to pack any of your nice dresses while I was evading arrest. It’s lucky I was able to bring any food and supplies, let alone frivolities.”
Sensing an argument brewing, Zelle stepped in. “Did the Changers just take Tavine? Not Randel as well?”
“No, but they knew I was staying with the Reader,” Grandma answered. “We’re their targets. Some of the villagers might have tried to resist, but who would dare to challenge the orders of the Crown?”
“It’s not the Crown or Gaiva. It’s Daimos.” When Zelle spoke the name, she saw their other companion shift on his feet out of the corner of her eye, his attention sharpening. Rien, who stood near one of the bookcases in the corner, had remained silent throughout their conversation, but she could never forget he was there.
“No doubt he planned this carefully,” Rien said, his voice barely accented despite not being a native Zeutenian speaker. Tall and broad, he had the medium-brown skin of an Aestinian and wore his long, dark hair in the fashion of their upper class.
“Exactly,” Zelle said. “The Crown Prince doesn’t keep a close eye on the Changers, and the success of Orzen’s takeover proved to Daimos that they’re the perfect route through which to reach the Sentinels. His Royal Highness is probably safely in his palace, planning his next societal function, utterly oblivious to all of this.”
Aurel gave a snort. “You aren’t wrong, but I’m surprised there are any Master Changers left after Orzen slaughtered them all.”
“True.” Daimos seemed to have no end of resources and allies, though—including, allegedly, a Great Power. “I doubt that’s much of a concern to him. He has what he needs.”
Who knew what the deity of illusions might be capable of? Zelle hoped Daimos only had a Relic and not the aid of Invicten Himself, but nothing was certain when it came to the Great Powers. The last fragment of Gaiva’s consciousness was confined to a Relic buried inside the Isles of Itzar, and the nameless Shaper had been imprisoned here in these very mountains by the other deities, but Invicten was an unknown entity.
Rien met her gaze, his tense expression indicating that he’d caught the direction of her thoughts. “As soon as he realised that we had the support of the nameless Shaper, I bet Daimos changed his strategy to focus on finding the others. He’ll have sent his spies to scour the far edges of the world, no doubt, and ordered Igon to ensure Gaiva never left the Isles.”
Zelle inclined her head. “Worse, we don’t even know what kind of magic Invicten’s Relic bestows upon its wielder.”
“You are standing near the most extensive source of information concerning the Powers on the continent,” Grandma told her. “In case you’ve forgotten.”
Zelle hadn’t, but the Sanctum was the Shaper’s domain, prone to making her lose track of time. What if Daimos intended to attack the outpost the instant she turned her back on the others?
He won’t. The staff answered her unspoken thoughts.
“So you do know where he is,” she muttered.
No. I can sense anyone who comes into the mountains, though, and he isn’t here.
“Does that include the Changers?”
They are not in my domain.
Aurel cleared her throat. “Let us in on your one-sided conversation, Zelle.”
“There’s not much to say.” Zelle lifted her gaze from the staff. “The staff says Daimos isn’t in the mountains, but it isn’t able to sense his actual location. Or the Changers, even though they live in the Range.”
“They have Relics of their own,” said Grandma.
In the window seat, Evita startled then tried to cover up the motion by picking up a book. Everyone pretended not to notice she’d opened it upside down. “I’m not—the cloak isn’t a Relic.”
Aurel shrugged. “It’s got magic inside it, which makes it a Relic according to every definition of the word.”
“I haven’t a clue which deity it belongs to,” Evita protested. “The Changers taught me that Gaiva’s magic was inside it, but it’s not the same as those Relics the islanders carried.”
“Well, it’s on our side,” Aurel said. “For what it’s worth.”
Evita didn’t answer, but Zelle was inclined to agree with her sister. Not only could the cloak render the former assassin close to invisible, but she’d even used it to fly. That made it a Relic in Zelle’s eyes, but Evita had known nothing of magic before Orzen had invaded her small village on Zeuten’s southeastern coast and razed it to the ground. If she wanted to believe the cloak was nothing like the capricious and dangerous staffs that Zelle and Rien carried, then it did no harm.
“Speaking of Relics.” Grandma indicated the swirling marks that now covered Zelle’s hands and wrists. “What exactly is that?”
Zelle tugged down her sleeves, wishing she’d kept on her fur coat, but the old Sentinel was sharp enough to have spotted the change in Zelle without any prior indications. “It’s my godsmark.”
She’d never uttered the word before, not in reference to herself, but a hush followed, and every noise inside the room appeared to quieten, as if the Sanctum itself was paying close attention.
Grandma broke the silence. “A foolish decision, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t have a choice.” Annoyance stirred within Zelle. “The Shaper and I had to join forces to fight against Igon, and the only way to survive was to bind myself to the staff like an Invoker and their Relic.”
“And you didn’t feel any different afterwards?”
“We were in the middle of a battle,” Zelle said. “As for now, I don’t feel like raising continents from the ocean, if that’s what you mean.”
The Shaper, the stories told, had created the very lands on which humanity lived and walked. She had been formidable enough to prove a threat even to the other Great Powers, if Her eventual imprisonment within the Range was any indication. Zelle hadn’t made her choice lightly. Her aunt Adaine, who’d raised her, had always made it clear that the Powers weren’t to be trusted to act in the interests of humanity, but if there’d ever been an opportunity to turn back, it had long since passed.
Zelle’s hand curled around the end of the staff. “I’m going into the Sanctum. Anyone else want to come?”
Rien surveyed her. “I would if I was certain of finding what I was looking for.”
“You might be surprised.” The Sanctum lacked for knowledge on nothing except perhaps recent history; Zelle’s ancestors had stopped bringing in new texts a few centuries after they’d departed Aestin and settled here in the mountains some thousand years prior. “I don’t know about you, but I want to know more about this god of illusions.”
“Agreed.” Rien lifted his crimson staff. Right, he wants to know more about his own deity. Rien’s own ancestors—the Asteras, one of the most prestigious families in Aestin—had once maintained contact with the Sentinels, but evidence of their past communications had been destroyed along with his house when Daimos had slaughtered his family. Rien had managed to find a replacement for the Relic he’d lost in the carnage but no information pertaining to his current Relic, which Zelle had believed to be a myth until the nameless Shaper had placed it in his hands.
“No thanks,” said Aurel. “I’ll go back to the village and see what the Changers are up to.”
“No, you will not,” Grandma told her. “It’s dark. At least wait until morning before you take unnecessary risks.”
“Does that count all the times you went wandering in the forest with the Changers sniffing around the village?”
Zelle was more than happy to leave them bickering and make for the stairs ahead of Rien, climbing up to the short corridor that led into the Sanctum. “I give them less than a day before they’re at one another’s throats.”
“Not so different to when we were all staying in the Reader’s house, then.” He caught her up easily, his movements elegant enough to make her feel unrefined. Despite the weeks he’d spent in Zeuten, living in relative anonymity, he carried himself like a noble no matter how he dressed, including the Itzar-made furs he currently wore.
“There’s less space here, though.” Like Aurel’s house, the outpost contained a collection of artefacts gathered by generations of their family but not much in the way of comforts for human habitation. With five of them present and only two bedrooms, one of which belonged to her grandmother and the other which would be claimed by Aurel, Zelle suspected she and Rien would find themselves sleeping in the living room—together.
She’d have to think on that one later. Rien showed no signs of that particular dilemma having occurred to him and indicated the door ahead of them. “Except in there. How big is the Sanctum?”
“Haven’t a clue.” The staff’s magic warped the space inside the tower and could even create passages leading to the opposite side of the mountain if the Shaper desired. Regardless, Zelle hoped that unlike their last visit, the books wouldn’t wipe their pages clean when Rien tried to read them, and the doors wouldn’t seal themselves against him.
“And yet this is all we have.” Rien stood distractingly close behind her, and Zelle’s hands fumbled the bolts on the exterior door. She wished he’d take a step back, but she couldn’t think of how to ask him without admitting how he’d flustered her.
The staff groaned. Preserve me from this nonsense.
A flush heated her cheeks. Stay out of my thoughts, Shaper.
“Zelle?” Rien asked. “What is it?”
“Just thinking about where to start,” she evaded. “We need to find out as much as possible about the Great Powers, especially Invicten. Then we can figure out what we’re up against.”
Daimos must have obtained Invicten’s Relic somehow, but he couldn’t have joined forces with the deity directly without surrendering the other Relic he already carried. That Rien already knew, and she didn’t need to remind him that the other Relic in question had once been his.
Nor did could she afford for either of them to be distracted. Zelle finished unbolting the locks in silence and opened the door to the Sanctum.
