The Shadowbearer (An Aegis of the Gods Book)

Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

“You sacrificed nearly thirty thousand men,” Stefan said quietly. Rage should have burned inside him, but somehow, it had sputtered out. A hollow formed in the pit of his stomach with the words. “My men. Men who trusted me to bring them home alive. Men I promised peace to, a chance to be with their families. You cost me a friend today.” A growing sense of despair trickled through him. His hands shook.

At the table in the pavilion, not even bothering to look up from the map of Everland, Nerian shrugged. “The Disciplines warned you against making certain promises, did it not, General Dorn?”

Knight Commander Dorn, Stefan itched to say, but instead he bit his tongue and nodded. He’d failed to keep the one promise that meant so much to him and his men. The blame fell on his shoulders for his misplaced honor and arrogance in thinking he knew Nerian better than the man did himself.

“Anyway,” the King continued, “the menders managed to save Garrick. He may yet be able to rejoin us if he recovers fully. It was a necessary sacrifice. The men believe in me now. They trust I will lead them to victory.”

Stefan squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he pictured the wounds hacked into Garrick’s armor. He no longer recognized his friend when they removed the armor. When the Alzari were attempting to heal him, they said if he managed to live, Garrick would limp for the remainder of his life and have scars across his body and face. “All of those lives wasted for a ploy?” Stefan whispered.

“No, not wasted, used to attain the men’s belief. They know now that they can rely on Matii to help them win battles the same as the Erastonians. They needed to experience the horror of an Erastonian attack and then see it turned back. You have been naïve in this, Stefan, surprisingly so.”

Eyes narrowing, Stefan said, “You knew how the Erastonians fought along. Why—”

“Of course I did. They defeated my Scout parties and other incursions.”

“What? But you said no Scouts reported—.”

“None did,” Nerian interrupted.

The King was splitting hairs. “So how did you …”

“I watched when Renaida and Senden suffered defeat months ago.”

Stefan frowned. Then you had them killed before they revealed the Erastonian strategy. You are mad, aren’t you? “Why would you withhold that from me and cost us so many men.”

“They were my men, to be used as I thought best. The same as I used you. Nothing must stand in the way of my triumph.”

Stefan’s hands clenched and unclenched. “Why? Why did you do this? Do their lives, their families, mean nothing to you?”

“Victory is everything, Stefan. I will use what I must, even fighting darkness with darkness if I have to.”

“What do you mean by that?”

A slow smile spread across Nerian’s face. “What pushed you over the edge to fight, to lead these men here, and to decide the Erastonians must be eradicated?”

Stefan tilted his head to one side, thinking for a moment. No. He doesn’t mean … does he? “The shadeling and Erastonian Matus’ attack in Benez.”

“Exactly,” Nerian confirmed.

“She wasn’t an Erastonian, was she?”

“No, of course not.” Nerian chuckled. “She was one of our own Alzari.”

Stefan understood, now. For me to commit, you gave me something I feared more than anything … a threat to my family from the supposed enemy. But that also means … “The shadelings were yours.” He gave an incredulous stare.

“Like I said, sometimes you must fight darkness with darkness.”

“What have you done?” Stefan’s words came out in a hoarse whisper.

“What I needed to ensure the Setian rise above the Tribunal to rule all of Granadia as we should,” Nerian said.

Something else dawned on Stefan. He made an involuntary reach for his sword. Nerian’s smug expression stopped him.

“Do not bother. I’m aware of the sword, but according to Kahar, it bonded to you. I can do nothing but wait to see if you possess the strength it needs. Afterward, you can pass its power onto me once you learn how to do so.”

An onset of weakness almost overcame Stefan. If there was a chair nearby, he would have found a seat. “Power to do what?”

“Defeat the Tribunal. Undo whatever imprisons the shadelings within the Great Divide.”

A gasp escaped Stefan’s lips. “You would release their plague onto the world?”

Nerian smiled crookedly. “With their power and numbers added to mine, none can stop me.”

“Who would stop them?”

“Why, me, of course.”

“You really are mad,” Stefan said, voice quaking.

“No. I simply understand what most do not. The wealth of information and power hidden within the Great Divide is there for the taking. Your sword, and the shade … no … Mater itself, are the keys. I simply need to unravel the process to control them all.” A feverish gleam shone deep within Nerian’s eyes. “Don’t you understand? Remember the dreams we shared of making Ostania whole? We can achieve them together and so much more. Denestia will be mine with you as monarch under me. With this power I will become a god. It has already been written.”

Stefan’s insides writhed at what the words meant. All along, the King was already aware of the parts of the Chronicles Galiana thought she kept secret. He’d allowed her to deliver the sword. He deceived them all. ‘A good leader is adept in the art of deception.’ The words from the Disciplines grated at Stefan.

Still, why didn’t Nerian kill him and take the weapon? Unless he couldn’t. Stefan thought back to the day he received the divya from Galiana. He added that to Nerian’s mention of a bond. The tingling sensation that passed through him had not been his imagination nor how the divya felt as if he’d wielded it for centuries. Did the sword reject Nerian and now the only way left to gain its use was to have the bond voluntarily passed from another? He had to play this out correctly, use Nerian’s own madness against him.

“What would you have me do?” Stefan asked in resignation.

A grin plastered on his face, Nerian strode over with his arms spread wide. Stefan allowed the King to hug him as if he were a long lost son returning to the fold. His expression a mask to hide his revulsion, Stefan returned the sentiment with a squeeze of his own.

“I knew you would understand eventually,” Nerian said. He backed off and looked down into Stefan’s face. “All I need is for you to help me defeat the Erastonians. Lead the men. After that, the Great Divide will be ours to gain its secrets. From there, the Tribunal will fall.”

“What about those slaughtered by the shade?” Stefan looked away, unable to hold Nerian’s gaze with the weight of the horror to come on his chest. “Those of our people who die during this campaign?”

“Sacrifices happen in war, Stefan. Their deaths shall pave the way for ultimate victory. Let today be the first day the Setian are remembered for all eternity, a day when a legend is born.”

Yes, Stefan thought, remembered in infamy and reviled for the cataclysm you will spawn upon the world. Thinking back, he wished he’d accepted the Svenzar’s offer. Now, it was too late. One thing remained without a doubt.

     Nerian had to die.