The Pillars of Sand Read online

  Also by Mark T. Barnes

  The Echoes of Empire Series

  The Garden of Stones (Book 1)

  The Obsidian Heart (Book 2)

  The Pillars of Sand (Book 3)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2014 by Mark T. Barnes

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by 47North, Seattle, WA

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781477819548

  ISBN-10: 1477819541

  Illustrated by Stephen Martiniere

  Published May, 2014.

  To the people who love me, and support me in my passion.

  You make the world a better place, and I adore you for it.

  CONTENTS

  SOUTHEASTERN ĪA

  SHRĪAN

  BEFORE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chaptre Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Cast of characters

  Glossary of terms

  Cultures

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  BEFORE

  “There are three great rivers: the past, the present, and the future. Neither the passage of time, nor ourselves, are constant. We, like time, are subjective and viewed with as many lenses as there are people to see. We, within time, are at once the initiator and observer of passing events, sailors on a river of cause and effect: The moment we have caused an event, or witnessed its effects, we are swept by them and left only with imperfect memories of the small part of the whole we have seen. No matter how much we try, there is no going back, and there is no seeing everything there is to see. Nor can we but guess at what is to come.”

  —From The Three Rivers, by Ahwe, scholar, philosopher, and explorer (First Year of the Awakened Empire)

  It has been almost five centuries since the formation of the Shrīanese Federation, an alliance of the surviving six Great Houses and the Hundred Families of the Avān, who fled the fall of the Awakened Empire.

  The land within and around Shrīan was littered with the detritus of past empires, echoes of glory and the high watermark of civilizations lost to time, internecine war, and blind ambition. Set against Shrīanese imperialism and the return to days of glory was the Human-governed Iron League, an alliance of nations set on ensuring no new empire rises to seize control. The Humans, also known as the Starborn, remember their days of servitude and are unwilling to bend their necks again.

  Rahn-Erebus fa Corajidin, the leader of the Great House of Erebus, and leader of the Imperialist political faction, was dying, his body failing as his soul succumbed to its own poison. Terrified of meeting his demise before reaching the heights expected of a leader of his family, Corajidin began a civil war in order to gain access to the ancient treasures and knowledge he needed to stay alive.

  Set against Corajidin was Indris, former Sēq Knight. He was drawn once more into Shrīan’s political conflict, when Vashne and Ariskander asked his help to locate and return Far-ad-din: the one person who could possibly reveal the extent of Corajidin’s falsehood, and corruption. In this new purpose Indris found himself an unlikely ally.

  After she had witnessed the lengths to which her father had gone to achieve his ambitions, Mari, Corajidin’s daughter, found herself conflicted. Her duty to, and love of, her family was clear. But her duty to her nation, as well as her duty to herself, was not something she could ignore. After her father had Vashne assassinated and Ariskander abducted, Mari was confronted with a darkness in her father she had not wanted to see.

  As Corajidin continued his drive for power, Mari and Indris joined forces to oppose him. Indris and his comrades set out into the monster-infested Rōmarq, the marshlands that held the ancient ruins of lost civilizations, to rescue Ariskander, while Mari remained in Amnon—a spy in her father’s own household—with newfound allies who fought with her to maintain order.

  After they had faced the many perils of the marshlands, Indris and his comrades arrived too late: Ariskander had been executed, and his soul was bound into an Angothic Spirit Casque. Indris managed to recover the casque, and denied Corajidin his prize. Corajidin escaped to Amnon, with Indris and his comrades in pursuit.

  Corajidin refused to admit defeat, and formulated a plan for his colors to make a stand elsewhere. Before he would leave Amnon, Corajidin was betrayed by Thufan, his own Master of Assassins. Corajidin was nearly killed, but not before he saw his beloved son, Belamandris, mortally wounded.

  Though Indris, Mari, and their allies were victorious, it was not without cost. Mari was cast out from her family: a family that faced an uncertain future on the political stage due to her father’s failed schemes. There was no clear candidate to lead Shrīan, and the Iron League saw a weaker Shrīan, easy to conquer. The Great Houses and the Hundred Families knew their struggle had only begun.

  Camped far from Amnon, Corajidin was introduced to the Emissary—Anj-el-din, Indris’s wife, who had been presumed dead—a servant of powerful and enigmatic Masters. The Emissary promised Corajidin much: power, majesty, and long life. But the price of these things was not discussed, and in desperation, Corajidin did not think to ask.

  Shortly after the events of Amnon, in the Shrīanese capital of Avānweh, came the New Year’s Festival, and the time of the Assession when the new government was elected. Acts of violence attributed to Iron League forces, and the return of the Exiles—political criminals who had been banished by the late Asrahn-Vashne—threatened the balance, and gave Corajidin the support he needed to continue his play for power.

  Indris, Mari, and their friends were enlisted to help discover what Corajidin had planned, and to end it if possible. The brief peace Indris and Mari had hoped to enjoy was broken by their call to duty, and by the ghosts if their own pasts. For Indris, it was the threat of the Sēq that loomed largest, and their continued interest in his growing abilities; and the pressure from his cousin, Roshana, to serve their House and see to its advancement. For Mari, it was the presence of her family and their agendas, the pull at her own ambitions and duty, and the arrival of an old lover who had taken a position in her father’s household: a man who promised danger was coming.

  In return for significant portions of the Exiles’ wealth, and their vows of allegiance, Corajidin bound the Exiles to his purpose and began anew his plans fo
r ascension to the role of Asrahn. The Emissary tempted Corajidin with the help he needed to realize his goals—though her help came at a price. The Emissary claimed to be able to deliver that which Corajidin desired most: the return of his son, Belamandris; to be crowned as Asrahn; and the restoration of Corajidin’s dead wife, Yashamin, who haunted his visions with whispered messages of vengeance. Blinded by his ambition, with the hope he could control his circumstance, Corajidin agreed: and Belamandris was restored to health as the first of the Emissary’s promises.

  Worried by Corajidin’s very feasible grab for the highest office in Shrīan—and by the presence of the Exiles and their agenda—Indris, Mari, and their comrades discovered what they could by following the Exiles and those who wore their colors. It became apparent that the Exiles had planned significant military action, bolstered by the arcane support of witches, Nomads, and bound daemon elementals.

  In the ruins of the Mahsojhin, where the Emissary labored to free the witches, events came to a head when Corajidin learned from a Nomad that it was Selassin fe Vahineh who had murdered his late wife. Further shocks came as Corajidin was elected Asrahn, and as a manipulative Rosha, and not Nazarafine, was elected to lead the Federationists.

  Pressed for time and short of options to check Corajidin’s influence, the Federationists decided to Sever Vahineh from her Awakening, in order to have another Federationist rahn raised to the Upper House of the Teshri. However, during the process, a faction of the Sēq led by Master Zadjinn interrupted the Severance and took Indris, Femensetri, and Vahineh captive. Indris’s comrades were unaware of the Sēq’s involvement, and came to the conclusion that Indris, Femensetri, and Vahineh had been taken by Corajidin. Corajidin, who had requested Vahineh be handed over to stand trial for murder, believed the Federationists had plotted to protect Vahineh, and rob him of vengeance. A parley to determine the truth of the matter, and to forge some kind of peace, was ruined when assassins tasked by Roshana attempted to kill Corajidin. Corajidin used the treachery as justification for further aggression, in order to bring the Teshri under his control.

  Meanwhile Indris, imprisoned by the Sēq, was tortured for the truth about his unaccounted for years. Indris was unable to give the answers he did not know. However, it was a moot point: the Dhar Gsenni, a powerful faction within the Sēq, and led by Zadjinn, wanted Indris for their own ends. Indris managed to free himself and Vahineh, and they both escaped the Sēq. Returned to the outside world, Indris was reunited with Mari and his comrades. Knowing Avānweh was too dangerous a place to stay, they tried to escape but were harried at every turn. Infuriated by the violence in his city, the Sky Lord demanded that Roshana, Nazarafine, and Siamak leave Avānweh. Likewise, Indris and his comrades were banished.

  However, before they could leave, daemon elementals were set free in the city at Corajidin’s order. As the city was distracted by the mayhem, Corajidin politicized the violence and used it as a justification for his own plans, part of which was to demonstrate how the Sēq were no longer relevant, and could be replaced. The Mahsojhin witches were put to dual purpose: those selected to be part of Corajidin’s future used to put down the havoc that Corajidin had started; the others sacrificed to occupy the Sēq so they were unable to defend the city.

  In the chaos, Indris, drafted by Femensetri to help the Sēq, was brought face to face with Anj-el-din, who had supposedly returned to help the Sēq in their efforts. Though Indris suspected there was something strange about his returned wife, the battle drew all their attention and he had no time to act on his doubts.

  Mari tried to escort the rahns from Avānweh aboard the Wanderer, but they were pursued and grounded. Belamandris, the leader of the pursuit, offered Roshana, Siamak, and Nazarafine their freedom, in exchange for Mari and Vahineh: and Roshana agreed to the terms. Hayden and Omen were killed in battle after the rahns fled, while Ekko and Shar escaped. Both Mari and Vahineh were taken captive and brought to Tamerlan: a place of horror from Mari’s youth, ruled by her vindictive grandmother, the Dowager-Asrahn.

  His son returned to him, a crown on his brow, Corajidin took the final boon from the Emissary: the reincarnation of Yashamin. As part payment for her services, the Emissary demanded that Corajidin leave Mari to rot in Tamerlan.

  The Mahsojhin closed, the witches defeated for the moment, Indris and Anj were taken into custody, where Indris was informed he would be taken to Amarqa-in-the-Snows for further questioning. Cautioned against any attempt at escape, Indris elected to go with the Sēq on the promise that they would tell him the truth of his ancestry.

  And now…

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Were we complete, there would be no need for us to grow through struggle or adversity. There would be no transcendence, illumination, or enlightenment. We need to embrace our many imperfections, make them part of us, to overcome our limitations.”

  —From the Esoteric Doctrines, by Sedefke, inventor, explorer, and philosopher (901st Year of the Awakened Empire)

  Late autumn. Day 51 of the 496th Year of the Shrīanese Federation

  The heat scoured Indris to the point where his muscles, ligaments, tendons, and bones thrummed, pushed beyond their endurance. He shrieked, until his voice dwindled to an arid croak. The superheated air parched his gums and made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. Fire scorched down his throat and into his lungs; breathing was agony. A serpent of energy coiled around Indris’s spine, flexing, and lashing at the flowering vortices of his energy centers as it strived to inhabit his mind and soul. My Awakening, desperate for release. Worst was the stake of pain through his left eye, a jagged thing that had planted itself and grown molten roots inside his brain burning burning burning—

  “Enough!” Femensetri shouted. “Enough, or he’ll bloody well kill us all.”

  “Keep going. He can take more,” He-Who-Watches, the Sēq Inquisitor, urged.

  “Maybe he can,” Ojin-mar, the Sēq Executioner, replied. “But we can’t. His jhi-reflex has pretty much destroyed this room, too, save the parts where we had multiple wards. Femensetri, you say there were seven others like him?”

  “Eight special children were chosen for the Great Labor. But like him?” Femensetri replied. “No, there were none like him.”

  Indris relaxed as the Sēq Masters stopped their probing into his memories. It took minutes for the pain to subside, while his hearts felt like hooves beating against his ribs. Minutes where even the caress of the air pricked as needles on his skin. The heat in his skull began to cool. He raised shaking hands to push back his sodden hair, kept them over his eyes until his breathing and pulse returned to normal. Indris saw giant flares and coronas swirling on the canvas of his eyelids. As the sear behind his left eye dwindled to a smolder, and his brain felt less like it was boiling in his skull, Indris cracked open his eyes.

  The warded obsidian chair in which he sat seemed none the worse for wear. Indris looked down at his naked body, clothing turned to ash, his skin fading from angry red to its natural light olive, marked with its myriad tattoos and scars. The same thing had happened the past twenty-three times the Sēq Masters had tried to unravel the Anamnesis Maze that coiled around the missing years of Indris’s life. Around him the rest of the laboratory—a vaulted chamber of cold stone deep beneath the rock and snow of the Mar Silin range—looked like it had been hit with several kinds of natural disaster. Stone furniture had been turned to slag. There were concentric ripples in the stone, each spreading from where Indris sat to the blasted walls. Small pieces of silicate in the rock had been transformed into points of glass, glittering like diamond.

  Where the Masters stood, the room was barely touched. Indris suppressed a smile at how many of their wards had burned away, leaving the steaming brick-red fractals of their inner circuit intact. The Masters themselves were poised, though Indris noted the sweat that dewed some of their brows. A small number of armored Sēq Knights and Librarians, the latter chronicling the proceedings, stood behind them.

  Ojin-mar banish
ed the inner circuit of the ward. The air inside steamed as it rapidly heated, forming tiny clouds that drifted toward the ceiling. The Sēq Inquisitor stepped forward, more relaxed than many of his counterparts. A shock of fair hair and a short beard—little more than stubble—framed his lined, tanned face, and long scars drew down over his right eye and down his cheek to the jaw. He rubbed his jaw with a hand missing both the small and ring fingers. Indris spared a glance for Femensetri, who was scraping a thumbnail along a stain on her Scholar’s Crook. She avoided Indris’s gaze, much as she had done ever since he had been brought to Amarqa-in-the-Snows. He-Who-Watches wiped sweat from his brow with his brightly colored taloub.

  “Did you find anything in there?” Indris tapped at his temple and reached for his worn browns and blacks, leaving the Sēq cassock they had brought him where it lay.

  “We can’t get through the layers of the maze in your brain without setting off all sorts of mystic traps,” Ojin-mar said. “Who, in the names of all the hallowed dead, did this to you?”

  “Somebody who wanted something forgotten.” Indris looked around the laboratory. “You’d better find something out soon, before you run out of places for me to destroy.”

  “You’re not funny, boy.” Femensetri’s sharp voice cracked the air. “You don’t think we’ve better things to do than this?”

  “I’m a little funny,” Indris said, more calmly then he felt or she deserved. “I told you I knew nothing about what happened to me, but that didn’t stop you imprisoning me and dragging me down here.”

  “You came of your own free will, remember?”

  “There’s a kernel of truth in that statement, I suppose. I came in return for the answers you still withhold, and to understand what happened to me when I was on the Spines. And why whatever I found would lead me to Manté of all places. At least one of us was being honest when they said they’d cooperate. Given you’ve not held up your end of our bargain—and not for the first time—I don’t suppose you’d mind giving me Changeling back, so I can leave?” I do have other things I can be doing with my time. Like finding my missing friends. And Mari. Especially Mari.”