Chapter 77


    The Belly of the Beast


    Femira felt nervous and twitchy as she approached Galrd’s door. She could feel herself losing grip on her edir and it flared out in waves. The walls of the Pillar resonated in response. Nyth pulsed in confusion.


    Not now, Nyth. She felt an image conveyed back to her; an Honorsword in golden armour, and Nyth’s double helix blade, hilt deep in the gilded breastplate. You do understand me, don’t you? But that wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to fight any Honorswords. She didn’t want to kill anyone—even if they were murderous zealots.


    Femira was about to barge into the office but restrained herself, rapping her knuckles against the wood instead.


    “Enter,” she heard from inside and swung the door open. Garld sat alone at his desk poring over documents. Femira wanted to confront him immediately about what Daurond had said but she knew what Garld was like. He would respond poorly to her lashing out. She needed to bring it up calmly.


    “You’re early. I wasn’t expecting you until…” Garld trailed off and looked up at her with narrowed eyes. “You’re losing control of your edir. How long has this been happening?” There was genuine concern on his face.


    “Daurond said that we’re going to Keiran?” Femira burst out, unable to restrain herself any longer. “Is this true?”


    “Ah,” Garld replied, visibly relaxing, “he shouldn’t have told you that. I wanted to brief you after the War Council today.”


    “So it is true?” there was a panicked edge to her voice, “Garld… I can’t.”


    “Compose yourself, soldier. You don’t even know what the mission is yet,” Garld raised his hands in a calming gesture. She felt Nyth hum inside of her. Not the time, Nyth. The image of hands holding a skull entered her mind. What? Stop that, go away, Nyth. She focused her edir to try to shut out Nyth’s buzzing.


    And then she noticed it.


    A tiny tendril of Garld’s edir, so subtle she never would have noticed if she’d not been looking. It was stretched out to her, as indiscernible as a single spider’s thread. Garld always had immaculate control of his edir.


    This is no mistake.


    Nyth thrummed and Femira listened, greeted by a chorus of strange images. A river feeding a canal. A human-shaped creature but with the features of a bird, dancing under starlight. I don’t understand these, Nyth. Sunlight, distorted through the light of a diamond. A diamond… Mindstone!


    Femira met Garld’s eyes. She could feel the fury rising in her. She clenched her jaw, her heart was like a bird thrashing inside a bone cage. The fucker. In her mind, she knew it. She’d known it for a while. Garld had been manipulating Femira’s emotions using a mindstone. He’d likely been doing it since the moment they first met. Her bloodshedder training had shown her how to recognise the effect from a Foebreaker. The abrupt and forceful shift in emotion along with mental techniques to overcome it. But Garld’s touch was so sophisticated and subtle in contrast to what she’d seen with Foebreakers.


    Nythilium interferes with mindstone. That was what Landryn had told her. Nyth was preventing it from working. And Garld doesn’t seem to realise. She made a show of appearing placated although internally she was seething. How dare he?!


    Garld had been speaking the whole time that Femira had been dealing with this revelation. She picked up what he was saying. “The mission to Keiran is a delicate matter,” Garld said, “but ultimately, it is a distraction from what is happening today. We must focus on the War Council. Put it out of your mind and we will discuss it later.” You want to send me back there. Where the dead lie rotting under a blazing sun and none will bother to bury them.


    “Of course, sir,” Femira shrugged in a show of nonchalance, “I trust you.” You fucking liar.


    She didn’t know how to process this. A big part of her wanted to lash out at him, berate him for lying to her for so long, for manipulating her. But that would give away she knew what he was doing. Garld never responded well in the past to her outbursts, she needed to remain composed. Needed to make him believe that she was under his control while she figured all of this out.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    “Good,” Garld indicated for her to take a seat, “So. Tell me, what was discussed between Mattice and Prince Lukane?” Femira recounted the conversation to him. In the back of her mind trying to work through all the times Garld might have manipulated her like this. The small nudges in her emotion to push her towards what he wanted. Femira found now that she regretted not telling Landryn about how Garld had asked her to spy on him. How he’d told her to hide Daegan’s death from him. Everything that she was hiding from Landryn was all at Garld’s command.


    Garld seemed pleased with what she reported. He’d suspected that Mattice would eventually make a play for more military control with Lukane.


    “You’re certain they both aligned towards war with Rubane?” Garld asked.


    “Unmistakably, sir.”


    “Good, good.”


    “Is that what you want?”


    “My concern is always the defence of our country and our people. And of those under my command.”


    Femira wondered how many times Garld used his little mind tricks to dodge her questions without her even realising it. She decided to test out asking him direct questions and seeing how he reacted.


    “Sir, what is umbra?” Femira asked, thinking back to the conversation regarding soulforging she’d had earlier with Vestyr. Soulforging was still a topic she knew very little about, despite it being such a prevalent thing in her life. It was something Femira felt Garld had deftly distracted her from.


    “I see you’ve been reading the Art of Soulforging” Garld remarked. She hadn’t. It was still in her room in the barracks. Left there untouched since the night she’d stolen it from Landryn’s office. With her busy schedule the past week, she’d barely had time to sleep, let alone read.


    “No, actually… it’s just something Vestyr mentioned in our sparring session.”


    “I wouldn’t pay any heed to his remarks,” Garld dismissed, “we must focus on the task at hand…” Again, Femira felt the subtle touch of his edir on her mind and Nyth responded interrupting the effect on her. The sneaky bastard!


    “You are dismissed until after the War Council.”


    “You want me there?” Femira tested and Garld shook his head in response.


    “The War Council consists of the King and his Council, along with our army’s senior leaders. This is where we meet to determine the course of action for the various Reldoni military factions. It differs from the Military Court held in Judgement Hall that you’ve attended in the past. The Military Court is what Landryn presides over to impose the will of the War Council.”


    It’s not that different to gang leaders. Lichtin’s crew had been part of a wider gang of criminal activity. Lichtin himself would go to meet with other crew leaders where they’d decide which rich person they’d target next. Except instead of some rich noble, the target is an entire country.


    “So Landryn can only act upon the direction of the War Council,” Femira considered. In other words, they treat him like a puppet.


    “Precisely. It is often the will of the King that directs this, but Abhran is not deaf to suggestion. Landryn himself as Commander does hold much sway within the War Council; he has proven himself at Altarea as a strong leader.”


    As far as Femira knew, Garld was unaware of her growing relationship with Landryn. Whenever Landryn did speak of Garld, he did so fondly, like a child telling stories of his favourite uncle. There was a very clear paternal dynamic between them but Femira doubted that Landryn would tell Garld about how he’d been spending every night with her the past week. Now, she wondered if Garld was manipulating Landryn too.


    “Do you think Landryn can convince them that the fomori threat is greater?” Femira asked, realising now that she had no idea what Garld wanted in all of this. Garld told her time and time again that he served Landryn but yet he’d had her spy on him. Had her withhold information from him. His actions did not align well with his words.


    “Landryn’s grief may still impact what he will decide at the War Council,” Garld answered and Femira felt her stomach knot with the amount of people that would die because of that decision.


    “Is there anything that I can do to stop this?”


    “Landryn did argue to have your testimony heard by the War Council on the fomori. I believe the King’s Council decided it wasn’t prudent.” Femira felt a swell of pride rise in her, knowing that had Landryn wanted her there. It also suggested that Landryn intended to push against the war in Rubane and to focus their efforts on the fomori. “So no,” Garld continued, “I believe we have done as much as we can.”


    “What will you do?” Femira probed, “regarding Mattice and Lukane?”


    “Truthfully,” Garld replied, “nothing.” She raised her eyebrows at his candour.


    “Mattice already controls the bulk of the army’s rank-and-file. His division has command of ten thousand spearmen, four thousand crossbowmen along with three hundred battle-trained runewielders. In addition to this, many of his spearmen are being retrained as riflemen. This is more than half of our entire military.”


    Garld leaned forward. “A war with Rubane will be extensive,” he intoned, “Altarea was a single island state; one battle and the war was won. Rubane by contrast will involve exhaustive campaigns ranging for months, maybe even years. I do not want our bloodshedders deployed to Rubane unless absolutely necessary. Therefor, I am inclined to allow Mattice to deploy his own soldiers for this effort rather than sacrificing our own.” Garld’s continued commitment to the bloodshedders was heartening, but that feeling conflicted with Femira’s prevailing anger with him.


    “That’s if it comes to war.” Femira noted.


    “War with Rubane is an inevitability,” Garld sighed, “King Abhran’s retribution will wash over Rubane as immutable as the great tides of the Altasjura.”


    “Is there nothing we can do to prevent it?” Femira implored.


    “I believe prevention is out of our grasp. All that we can do is minimise the damage.”