In Vezna's capital, Rosarva, spring was normally a time for growth — new plants sprouting, trees becoming saplings, and a thriving living city that was unrivalled anywhere in the world. This spring, however, the cultivators shook their heads and cursed their young High Lord, Dimitri Corizon. They remembered the days when his father, Vladimir, had ensured their neutrality in every conflict. Some began to speak of a change in leadership.
In the cooler lands: Torakon, Loua Louna, Aynar and Tingara, the change of seasons meant little. In Torakon families missed their fathers and sons, for the Black Army still requisitioned builders for walls and fences, turrets and fortresses, at every corner of the world. In Loua Louna the artificers waited, idle and frustrated; essence had stopped coming long ago, and their workshops were silent and still. In Aynar the templars watched each other; a colleague's careless word could mean instant promotion. In Tingara the commanders and legionnaires felt proud to be ruling the world, while the common people struggled through life in the same way they always had.
~
THERE was one place where the passage of the seasons meant nearly nothing at all. The days were a little longer, but it was still cold. It was always cold.
Primate Melovar Aspen pulled the white fur-lined robe closer around his body. He felt the chill, yet in a way, he found the climate of the icy north quite pleasant. The pain of his burned skin subsided somewhat, and he felt he was able to think more clearly. It was good to be away from the lands of the empire, even for a short time.
He'd been travelling for several weeks, time he had spent examining the book and gaining a further understanding of its contents, however incomplete. He frowned when he remembered the pilgrim. He had left explicit orders about the old man. With the pilgrim's escape, Melovar would never know if there was something locked up in his mad head that could solve his problem.
What was this powerful relic of the Evermen? What form did it take? Where was it? Why were the diagrams such strange shapes?
Melovar doubted the Akari would know either, and he would have to get through the coming encounter with the information he had.
The carriage bumped and jostled, and Melovar cursed when the bouncing tore at his skin, undoubtedly breaking it in places that would crack and bleed anew. He hoped the Akari were worth it.
Drudges pulled the carriage over the long-abandoned road that stretched from Aynar through Seranthia and far into the icy north, where few men dared to go. An age ago, this road had linked Akari lands with Tingara, but since the exile it hadn't been used at all, and was in poor condition, to say the least. Fortunately, once they were far enough north, snow covered the road, and as the men in front forged ahead, packing it down, it was only the occasional stone or ditch that impeded their progress.
"Halt!"
It was the voice of his detachment's captain. The Primate smiled to himself; they were far enough into Akari lands now. Something told him the Akari were here.
"What is it?" Melovar called out of the open window. He could see pine trees, covered in snow, and swirling eddies of low-hanging mist. The Akari certainly lived in an inhospitable place. Melovar supposed they preferred it this way.
A templar guard came to the window. "There's a strange man standing on the side of the road ahead," the templar said, his voice betraying his anxiety.
"Strange?" Melovar asked. "In what way?"
"He doesn't come forward, or say anything, or respond to our calls. He simply stands there, watching. We've sent out one of the scouts."
Melovar barked a laugh. "He won't get much sense out of him. Keep us moving, the rest of them will show themselves when they're ready."
"Yes, Your Grace," the templar acknowledged.
The carriage began to roll ponderously forward again as the drudges resumed their plodding walk. Melovar leaned out the window as he saw the scout return.
"Bring the scout here," Melovar called. "Tell him to keep quiet."
The scout came to the Primate's carriage, white-faced, rigidly keeping his composure.
"Well?" asked Melovar.
"He's dead," the scout said. "His skin glows with runes and his eyes are white. There is the stench of corruption about him and he stands still as though frozen. He doesn't answer when I speak."
The Primate nodded. "The rest will be close. Very close. Stay silent."
The scout nodded and moved away. The column continued to advance.
When the Akari finally showed themselves, they openly walked out of the forest rather than materialising out of thin air. These were just men after all, Melovar reminded himself.