Free Etchings of Power (Aegis of the Gods) by Terry C. Simpson, D Kai Wilson-Viola, Gonzalo Ordonez Arias

sounds among the trees.
    “What are your plans for her now?” Sakari asked, poultices sopping with blood as he worked on Kahkon. Yips of a lapra sounded nearby followed by an answering growl.
    “I don’t know. What I want to do is proving to be an unwise path to take. Carnas would only suffer,” Ryne confessed. He held the lamp up to peer among the trees in time to see dark fur and dog-like shapes disappear among the trees.
    “If she is who she says she is, restraining yourself only serves to delay the inevitable.”
    Ryne squeezed his eyes shut against the tightness in his chest as if mere sight could will away the truth behind Sakari’s words. If indeed Mariel was a Devout in the Tribunal’s employ, eventually one of the messages she sent every morning would include his description. If one had not already as the presence of the Alzari assassins seemed to suggest. If everything stayed true to his past, more assassins or worse, a cohort, would be dispatched to take him. Either way, his time in hiding was at an end.
    Frustrated by his lack of options, Ryne growled. There was no telling which faction within the Tribunal Mariel represented. And he couldn’t simply ask. Added to that, using his power to capture her was not a viable option with his recent waning control. Drawing on his Scripts to destroy the shade’s abominations in the woods had brought him to the brink. Luckily, the killings had been enough to appease his power’s hunger.
    “He’s safe for now,” Sakari said.
    Ryne took in Kahkon’s pallid face. The boy writhed, but at least he seemed a deal calmer, his aura steady. With a relieved sigh, Ryne picked up his end of the litter, and they set out again, shadows cast by the lamplight chasing them.
    “I do not believe the Tribunal sent those assassins for you. I think it was mere chance,”
    “You know what I think of chance,” Ryne retorted.
    “They failed too many times before. The Alzari have never seemed the type to risk men foolishly. If they indeed came for you, they would not send two assassins. And a cohort would require the Tribunal to seek permission of the Ostanian Kingdoms, no?”
    “Yes,” Ryne agreed. Although he’d yet to find a connection, he still found himself wondering if Sakari’s knack for mirroring his thoughts had anything to do with their link. “But when has that ever stopped them? Besides, the negotiations would only give us but so much time.”
    “Time enough to escape,” Sakari said.
    Ryne’s mouth twisted with distaste. “And leave the villagers at Tribunal’s mercy? Abandon them to the Alzari or Amuni’s Children and the shade?”
    “And if this is all Mariel’s doing?”
    “Then she dies,” Ryne answered, leaves crunching underfoot like the crackle of a fire.
    “The end result would be the same,” Sakari said.
    Kahkon moaned and began another set of fitful mutters. Padded feet pattered among the trees followed by a whine that whispered through the still air. Ryne held the lamp out again. A svelte forest lapra slunk away from the light, its three-foot lichen-covered body fading into the undergrowth. Several similar forms slipped by at the edge of the lamp’s range followed by more low whimpers and snarls.
    Ryne eyed Kahkon for a moment until the pain etched on the boy’s face eased, and he settled down once more. “I’ll convince them to move to the Nevermore Heights or southeast to Bana land.”
    “If you say so,” Sakari said.
    Even as he’d said it, Ryne knew the villagers would never flee. They were refugees from the territorial feuds that plagued Ostania through the years, and many had faced their own bloody trials during the War of Remnants. They would stand, fight…and die.
    “I’m surprised you’re concerned for them. You never were before,” Ryne said, eyeing Sakari askance.
    “I am not,” Sakari replied. “Alive. Dead.” He shrugged. “They matter not to me. You are my sole concern, and it seems you have forgotten your summons