Defying Destiny Read online

  He could have simply told them his name and waited for someone to look him up in the directory the old fashioned way, or even called in a favor from a Thornguard agent he knew at the base.

  But this was much funnier, and a good way of testing his latest trinket with minimal risk. After all, all the information on the card was true, even if the voice wasn’t actually Aayara’s.

  For the first few minutes of waiting, Jonan was simply bored.

  For the next several minutes, he was beginning to grow concerned.

  Within a half hour, he had several different exit strategies in mind, depending on who they sent to ambush him.

  They didn’t send a whole squad, at least.

  When the librarian finally returned, he was following behind an athletic gentleman with dark hair and a short goatee that gave him a somewhat wolfish appearance. His build and the longsword on his hip said military, but he wasn’t wearing a uniform. Instead, he wore black garb that lacked any distinguishing markings. Beneath it, Jonan saw the lines of both heavy musculature and what looked like it might be a concealed shirt of chain armor.

  The librarian looked nervous, but the man ahead of him was confident, walking with a straight back and an affable expression.

  The swordsman spoke first. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting. We don’t have visitors like you very often.” He turned to the librarian. “Remove any remaining library visitors, then leave and lock the door behind you. You’re closed for the day.”

  The librarian swallowed hard, then nodded. He looked like he was about to raise an arm to salute, then stopped himself. “Of course.”

  The other man turned away from the librarian, toward Jonan. “This way.” Without another word, he headed down another hallway.

  An officer, then. Extremely unusual to see one giving orders while out of uniform. And from the librarian’s expression, this isn’t exactly a standard social visit.

  If I die here, I’m going to haunt Velas for her poor Aayara impression.

  Jonan frowned and followed behind the swordsman, watching for anyone else in the library that could have been a threat. He tried to keep at least blade-length away, although he doubted this would turn into a physical altercation without significant warning first. He might have been skirting the rules a little bit, but the Thornguard weren’t in the business of executing people in the middle of libraries.

  Not typically, at least.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” Jonan tried.

  The swordsman just turned his head, smiled, and lifted a single finger to his lips. “Ssh. We’re in a library.”

  Jonan narrowed his eyes, continuing to follow until they reached the library’s back wall.

  The swordsman knocked on a section of the wall, paused, and then let out a low whistle.

  There was a brief grinding sound as a section of the wall shuddered, then lowered into the floor, revealing a hidden room. It was pitch black inside.

  The swordsman turned to Jonan, and then made an “after you” gesture.

  Jonan tapped the side of his head as he walked forward, activating a dark vision spell. He wasn’t going into a dark room blind if he could avoid it.

  As it turned out, he couldn’t. There was nothing but complete blackness ahead of him, even with the spell active.

  Void sorcery, probably. That’s...about half my contingency plans down, if it’s saturating the whole room. Only a few of them down if it’s just the doorway, though, which it probably is.

  He walked ahead, straight into the dark.

  As he expected, he was through it in a moment, like walking through a curtain. The room ahead was a well-lit sitting room, with a table and two chairs. On the table were two teacups and a decanter of some kind.

  There was a single row of bookshelves along the back wall. As unimpressive as the collection appeared, Jonan knew they contained some of the most dangerous secrets the Thornguard had ever uncovered.

  In front of those shelves, there were a set of crystalline cases, like a much more fortified version of a display case for a jewelry store. The objects inside those cases were individually labeled with a name, description, and reference number. Those numbers corresponded to one of the shelves behind, which had a series of journals containing notes.

  In front of the shelves and cases was a line of runes visibly etched into the floor. Defensive runes, either as an extra precaution to keep things out — or, potentially, to keep things that were truly dangerous trapped inside.

  Looks like someone has been using this room as a place to research some dominion marked items of the more dangerous variety.

  Jonan eyed the crystal cases warily. He’d have to be cautious if he decided to examine anything inside — but they weren’t what he was there for. Not immediately, at least.

  There were no people visible inside, but he immediately blinked his eyes and activated a spell to detect for invisible ones. No one appeared, nor did he detect any sight sorcery when he scanned for that.

  He stepped in further, and the swordsman followed just behind him.

  The swordsman whistled and the section of the wall moved upward behind them, closing the way. There were no other doors or windows in the room.

  The swordsman extended a hand. “Taer’vys Ironthorn. I’ve been eager to talk to you, but we needed somewhere with sufficient security.”

  Jonan shook the man’s hand in the classic way, clasping at the wrist. It was usually done that way to confirm that the other person didn’t have a weapon in their sleeve.

  Taer’vys Ironthorn definitely did have a weapon in his sleeve.

  Jonan found himself smiling at the sheer audacity of that kind of performance. “Jonan Kestrian.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Taer’vys made a toothy grin that only added to Jonan’s existing “wolf-like” impression. “And you’re here on Aayara’s business.”

  It was posed as a statement, not a question.

  Ironthorn... Where do I know that name from?

  Taer’vys waved to the chairs. “Let’s have a seat.”

  Ironthorn...

  Taer’vys moved to a chair, sitting down and grabbing the decanter. “Tea?”

  Jonan sat opposite him. “Yes, please.”

  “It’s poisoned.” Taer’vys poured for both of them, not changing his expression. “Only mildly, though.”

  Jonan nodded, picking up the cup. “Is it any good?”

  Taer’vys picked up his cup, sniffed, and then took a sip. His expression shifted to pondering, then he nodded softly. “A little tart, but poison will do that.”

  Jonan sniffed at it as well.

  He wasn’t an expert on poisons. He did use them, though, and he was familiar enough to recognize some of the more common ones.

  What he sensed was a minty herbal blend, mixed with one of the uncommon ones. But fortunately, it was an uncommon one that he did recognize.

  “Lysen’s Tears usually are, yes.” He took a sip. “You’re looking to extract some sort of confession?”

  Taer’vys’ grin returned, and he waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing like that. Mostly interested in your business. I might even be able to help you, depending on your angle.”

  Jonan sipped again, feeling coolness wash over his mind. Memory came along with it. “I’m surprised to see military intelligence taking an interest in an...issue that does not have clear connections to the Thornguard.” He had initially intended to say ‘small matter’, but the poison was already kicking in. It had been years since he’d last taken the Lysen’s Tears, and longer since he’d practiced trying to resist or work around the effects.

  He wondered how long it had been since Taer’vys had taken them, and if he’d be similarly affected. Drinking the same tea certainly gave an illusion that they’d both be operating under the same restrictions, but reality was often different.

  Fortunately, Jonan was quite familiar with illusions, and he had some ideas on how this one worked.

  Taer’vys most likely either had
some resistance to the poison or a way to cure it at will.

  Or, alternatively, he simply thought he was good enough at concealing his motives in a conversation that he could operate at peak proficiency even while under the effects. That was a far more arrogant approach, but one that somehow already suited Jonan’s first impressions of the man.

  “If you’re not aware of our reasons for being interested, you must be early in your investigation. I find that surprising, given that you foiled one of their plans nearly a year ago.” Taer’vys leaned back in his chair, lifting his cup and very deliberately taking another sip.

  “I wasn’t aware of their involvement prior to that,” Jonan admitted. “And afterward, I had other responsibilities that took priority.”

  Taer’vys nodded, then gestured toward Jonan’s cup.

  Jonan sighed and took another sip. “Would you care to share why you’re so interested, then?”

  “In time, perhaps. I’m still getting to know you. Files can be quite dry.”

  Jonan gave a forced smile and took another sip. “I’m afraid you have the advantage of having a file at all. Tell me, are you still working under Highguard Res’vaye Fayne?”

  Taer’vys shook his head, turning serious. “No, it’s Bloodsworn Fayne now. I’m taking care of many of the things he had to leave behind.”

  That was significant news, to the extent that Jonan would have ordinarily been quite skeptical. If it was true, it had to be recent.

  “Bloodsworn” was a position indicating that a member of the Thornguard military had been tapped to serve as the personal voice of one of the vae’kes. There were, so far as he was aware, only two other Bloodsworn currently alive. Each of them ran an entire branch of the Thornguard.

  It was a tremendous honor, the pinnacle of what a human could hope to earn. It was what ambitious Thornguard strived for their entire lives.

  And it was, in essence, a similar fate to what Jonan had been doomed to when he’d been plucked from his burning home by Aayara’s hand. Ordinary soldiers were generally beneath a vae’kes’ notice. A Bloodsworn was someone who would never live another day without having their every decision weighed by one or more capricious demigods who could eliminate them with little more than a stray thought.

  At least they had a level of authority that Jonan lacked, but Jonan didn’t envy them.

  Bloodsworn were prone to dying even more rapidly than people with the title “Silk”.

  “I suppose I should be congratulating you on the position of Highguard, then. You must be pleased.”

  Taer’vys took another sip, staring at Jonan unnervingly. “It’s a start.”

  A few things clicked together in Jonan’s mind at that time.

  There were, in general, three types of ways of reacting when someone found out he worked for Aayara.

  Most people reacted the way the librarian did, meaning with a combination of terror and the immediate urge to pass off the responsibility of dealing with him onto someone else.

  The next category included people like the guards outside of Aayara’s temporary home, the kind that would give him knowing looks and occasionally exchange stories about her strange urges and demands. They’d learned to try to manage Aayara, with long years of exposure having driven fear so deep into them that a layer of faux amusement was required to retain their sanity.

  Jonan liked to think he fell into that category himself.

  The third category was people like Taer’vys.

  The type of people who heard the name of the Lady of Thieves and saw it as an opportunity. A ladder standing just out of reach, waiting to be climbed toward the heights of power.

  Most failed to realize that the ladder wasn’t a ladder at all, but just a series of snakes tied together and painted to look like one.

  From their brief encounter, Jonan had a different impression of Taer’vys.

  He saw the snakes.

  He’d just decided that he could handle a little bit of poison in his veins.

  Well, Jonan considered, if he decides to work against me, I’ll just have to make sure that there’s more than a little poison on my particular rung.

  “Well,” Jonan took one more sip, then set his tea cup down. “If you believe I’m under-informed about the situation, I’d like to hear what you have to offer.”

  Taer’vys nodded slowly, seeming to consider his words, then took another sip of his tea. “The Disciples of the First have infiltrated a number of organizations, including our own. I do not work for them. Do you?”

  “No.”

  Taer’vys nodded. “And you do, in fact, work for Aayara? The Lady of Thieves in specific, not just some random person calling herself that?”

  That was a good clarification to make, and Jonan appreciated it as such. “Yes. I actually work for the Lady of Thieves.”

  “Good. What’s her interest in this subject?”

  Jonan shook his head. “It’s not my place to say.”

  Taer’vys gave just the barest hint of a frown. “Of course. Well, if you’re working for Aayara, I believe I may be able to assist you.” He waved at the shelf. “If you’re doing research, you can do it here.”

  “And those books are...”

  “The types of things that were too dangerous to put in something as lightly guarded as the restricted section.” Taer’vys set his cup down, leaning forward. “The types of things we’re not supposed to know about. Blood shaping, void calling. And, more relevant to you, copies of the ‘holy’ scriptures used by the cult you’re looking for.”

  Jonan raised an eyebrow. “What’s so dangerous about a ‘holy book’?”

  Taer’vys gave him another grin. “Read and find out.”

  Jonan nodded, then began to stand.

  Taer’vys leaned forward, putting a hand on his arm before he could get very far. “One more thing. You’ll be doing your reading here, under my observation. You will not remove any of those books from this room. Is that clear?”

  “That...seems like a very inefficient use of your time.”

  The grip on his arm tightened.

  “But yes, of course. I understand perfectly.”

  Taer’vys released Jonan’s arm, then gave it a pat. “Good.” Taer’vys stood up. “I’ll show you the right books, then get to some reading of my own.”

  “What will you be reading?”

  Taer’vys glanced at the shelf, then back to Jonan. “The types of things that I wouldn’t have the authority to read, unless I had a reason to be in here to observe you. So, feel free to take your time.”

  Jonan smiled softly. “Ah. I believe we understand each other now.”

  “You’re getting there.” Taer’vys walked over to the line of runes, bending down, and ran his finger across one of them. The runes flickered and died, then he stood up and pointed a finger at one aged tome. “You’ll want to start with this.”

  Jonan approached cautiously, then took the selected tome. “The compiled works of Erik Tarren.” He frowned. “This is a forbidden holy book? Erik Tarren writes all sorts of things.”

  “He does. Read for a bit. You’ll understand.”

  Jonan took the book and moved back to his chair, sitting down and flipping it open.

  He skimmed through the table of contents, seeing a list of historical events that he’d read about dozens of times. It was organized by year.

  2950 AR – Hartigan and Theas Turn the Tides of War

  3090 AR – The End of the Xixian Empire

  3110 AR – The Creation of the Kalsiris Fortress

  3121 AR – King Byron Ascends to Orlyn’s Throne

  3122 AR – The Deaths of House Theas

  3125 AR – The Fall of Velthryn

  He paused after reading the last line.

  It was dated two years in the future.

  Chapter X – Lydia III – Eyes Everywhere

  Lydia stood in front of a map, running her finger slowly across the surface. The map was the most recent she could find, and it was presently l
aid out atop the surface of a table inside the rented house that she was using as a base of operations.

  Her eyes were closed. Her vision was elsewhere.

  She saw the city from above. Not like a bird — she moved too slowly, too meticulously for that comparison, and her focus was too close to the ground.

  It was more like she was simply hovering just above the buildings, gazing downward along the streets. Rather than flying along, she had a moment of disorientation every time she moved her finger, moving her view to a different location.

  The spell was simple in theory, but rare in execution. It required a combination of knowledge sorcery and sight sorcery, which were rarely found in the same individual. She hadn’t had the capability to cast it even a few years ago, before she’d experienced Jonan’s sight sorcery and comprehended a fraction of how it worked.

  She’d figured out how to use a basic sight spell in Orlyn, when she’d needed to look inside wagons from outside.

  Since then, she’d had a considerable amount of practice. She still didn’t have nearly Jonan’s level of capability for illusion, but she’d found it much more intuitive to use sorcery to modify her own sense of sight. This spell was one of the most advanced applications she’d managed thus far.

  It would be taxing on her eyes for days, but it was worth it. She could not be idle while sending Velas into harm’s way.

  While Lydia had been training with Blake Hartigan, she’d made sure that the paladins in her branch were exhausting every basic option to try to find Sterling through sorcery. They’d tracked down some of the clothing Sterling had worn, as well as the vial of poison that Velas had tricked Sterling into drinking, and used those items to try to track him.

  Every spell they attempted was met with failure. They believed that was either due to the inherent spell absorbing properties of being a vae’kes or that Sterling had simply cloaked himself in void sorcery, which he was known to be able to use.

  Repeated attempts were made over time, testing to see if he let down his defenses, but there hadn’t been any luck. If they had some of his blood, they would have had a much better shot at bypassing his defenses, but they had never found any.