The Shadowbearer (An Aegis of the Gods Book)

Chapter 20

PART 2

ALLEGIANCES, HOMECOMING, SANCTUARY

CHAPTER 20

Tobal had once been a prosperous Harnan town at the edge of the Mondros Forest. Now, the dead and scavengers inhabited its streets and rundown buildings. They hung out of windows, lay on the russet–splattered cobbles, perched on the roofs, or dug into their next meal. The stench of death overrode that of char, and the day’s heat made it worse. The odor crawled up Stefan Dorn’s nose and threatened to choke him. Covering his mouth with his hand, he fought down bile.

Crows and ravens pecked at bloated corpses. A lapra, its muzzle and body the size of a large dog, perched on four of its six legs as it tore flesh from a young girl’s remains. The brown–furred beast ignored Stefan’s approach. His arrow took the creature in the chest. The lapra keeled over. Their caws a chorus of protests, the scavenger birds took flight in a black ripple.

“This is all they leave behind,” Elder Hurst said in a quiet voice. Near seven feet, like most Harnan, his shoulders slumped as he regarded the carnage. “May Humelen and the Forms embrace them,” he prayed.

Behind the Harnan rode High Ashishin Clarice in her crimson robes with its silver sleeves. The dark–haired woman kept her face expressionless and back straight, but from her pallor, Stefan could tell she found the slaughter troubling.

This was not the first such town he’d seen after an Erastonian attack, nor was it the second or even the tenth. He’d witnessed too many massacres to count now. Most times the inhabitants were Setian. Since the day the Unvanquished had been defeated, almost fifteen years ago, the Erastonians proved to be an implacable enemy. They spared no one.

However, the dead within the town did not compare to what shadelings wrought. People who died to Erastonian swords were still able to see the gods. Shadelings took a person’s life and their soul. They created more of their kind from death. That was the future if both the Erastonians and Nerian weren’t stopped. The genocide was beginning with the Setian. Where it would end, Stefan wished he knew.

Since that first day, Nerian had not taken part in any further battles. He remained in Benez as the Erastonians countered his armies at every turn. Stefan was sick of defeat and his people’s suffering, but before he could take on Nerian, he had to deal with the invaders.

“They can be turned aside,” Stefan said. “But for that I will need help.” He nodded to the High Shin. “From both of you.”

“You bring this cataclysm down on our people and now you beg for assistance?” Elder Hurst shook his head, lips curled in disgust.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Stefan said, “but the Setian have lost more than anyone.” Even as he said those last words, he regretted them.

Elder Hurst’s face darkened with a rage so intense, Stefan thought the man might attempt to attack him. If not for the High Shin’s presence as an intermediary, and the fact the Harnan followed Formist worship, which preached serenity, Stefan would have spurred his horse to avoid the Elder’s possible strike. As it was, Hurst muttered a prayer and calmed himself.

“Words can’t convey how I feel.” Stefan hoped the man heard the sincerity in his voice. “This was never my intention. If the choice had been mine, I wouldn’t have ventured into Everland.”

“There is always a choice,” Clarice said.

“Simple enough to say when your family isn’t about to die,” Stefan said in bitter retort.

“Why should we help you?” Elder Hurst drew rein next to the piled remains of children. “You caused all of this. Why should we not call our people back to the Nevermore … to the safety of the Stone?”