He hated when they called him that. He preferred simply Teran or Elder Hashivir at least, if they were going to be formal. He sat up. There were appearances to maintain. “Yes, Murawi,” Kaiteran said, addressing the woman who came charging into the cavernous room, lit by dozens of glowing linara stones, seeped into the ceiling with earthmelding. The woman’s black hair was uncustomarily more disheveled than he was used to seeing. “Don’t tell me, the emperor is coming to destroy us.”
Murawi shook her head. “Quite the opposite. The emperor is dead.”
Kaiteran frowned and shook his head in disbelief. “Certainly an elaborate ruse to deceive us into leaving.”
Murawi pursed her lips in an attempt to hide a smile. “It’s no ruse. Come.” She beckoned with her head. “Watch the message for yourself. We’re getting updates.” She practically skipped back toward the door.
Nights, he cursed to himself. She seemed excited. He hadn’t seen excitement in ages. Perhaps it was true. He popped up from his hard, stone seat, ancient bones practically creaking. How long had he been sitting there? It could have been marks. Or even a full cycle. Sometimes the very concept of time escaped him.
He picked up the armlet that rested beside him on the bare stone, slipping it on just below his shoulder, then lumbered after Murawi. Kaiteran was one of the oldest shamans alive—perhaps the oldest for all he knew. He was also the closest thing to an emperor the world had ever known prior to Ranaz’s wild stunt. He did not excel in skill with earthmelding or stormcalling, but he did have exceptional talent with everything else, including bleeder magic, the most significant of all.
Bleeding was a simplistic reference, one that annoyed him to no end. There was so much more than that. It was a connection with all living things, including plants and animals, even the strange tiny lifeforms that stained the stone walls of the pond before him in hues from blue and green to red and yellow. If he focused in close enough, he could even detect them individually.
Once a lifeform was more deeply understood, its greatest power was unlocked. It could be changed or controlled. It could be broken or enhanced. Perfected, even. Now that was an art. Blood did have its uses of course. Immortality. Mutations. When combined with other helpful organic components, it could make the body stronger, more resilient.
Experimenting with such mutations had been his life’s work.
It wasn’t without consequences. He’d killed hundreds of slaves trying to perfect his solutions. He even subjected his own body to some of his experiments, though only after fully perfecting the combination of components and the process involved. He rarely ever needed to drink a new youth potion, he hardly had to sleep, and he was much stronger and healthier than he should have been.
But all of his experiments had led to the creation of the waheshi. Beautiful creatures. Amazing. It was like the fusion of two or more souls, but it had always led to the subject’s complete loss of sanity. Its very reason and function relied solely upon the will of the creator. This too, he had sacrificed many lives to perfect.
The information regarding the process had leaked, however, when his aide Reyganin started selling out research and creating her own waheshi.
When he’d found out, it was already too late. Reyganin had built a small army, creating waheshi that specialized in hunting shamans, subverting others to her cause.
Kaiteran had to flee and form his own legion, one even more powerful than all the others that started to spring up. He’d brought his army here, their final resting place, just as Ranaz stilled the planet. Perhaps he’d thought that would kill them. At least at first. But he’d certainly learned from that mistake.
More excited voices echoed down the narrow passage as Kaiteran followed Murawi toward the common area. The group of shamans that conversed in the large room might have seemed young, but all of them had lived through the stilling of the planet except for three of them, born here under the frozen ground. They’d had to cap it off there. There was only so much food they could grow with limited heat.
Many of the shamans regarded him coolly. He was the elder shaman, but he also rarely left his room. He cultivated his own food, filtered his own water, ran his own experiments… But still, they regarded him as though he hadn’t left the room for months.
Perhaps he hadn’t.
Time almost didn’t exist.
Murawi led him straight to the communication room, earthmelding to pull away the stone door. Four pillars inside hosted four separate communication orbs, though two hadn’t worked in years, their contacts likely dead and their orbs compromised.
One glowed.
“You should listen for yourself, elder,” Murawi said, lowering her head as she gestured at the orb and backed to the side of the small room.
Kaiteran stepped forward, folding his arms as he activated the orb with a flicker of magical will. The orb came to life, revealing the face of a woman he hadn’t seen since the stilling of the planet.
Hadiv. A seer.
He spared a glance back at Murawi. This orb belonged to his distant cousin who hated Hadiv. The fact that she was using it was already deeply suspicious. Or perhaps his cousin had moved past her differences. It had been a few hundred years, after all.
Hadiv’s voice emanated from the orb. “You’ve no doubt felt it. Ranaz is dead. But you should also know what killed him.” She paused, pursing her lips before continuing. “Ashjagar.”
Kaiteran clenched his shirt in his fists, holding back the fire that ignited in his mind. Ashjagar was never meant to be. He’d coined the name himself, hoping it would be a deterrent to other shamans not to attempt such a thing. The word meant utter annihilation in the ancient shaman tongue. His experiments on slaves and drakotah had led to hundreds of deaths as he attempted to perfect the formula.
All attempts had failed.
And what was worse, after scrapping the idea, other shamans had started experimenting, twisting the translation from “annihilation” to “domination” or worse still, “liberation.” Those fools had all died. Or so he thought.
That formula was meant for him alone.
“I witnessed the successful transformation firsthand. Ashjagar was created by Nagesh, a distant descendant of Elder Hashivir and the late Elder Sili,” Hadiv’s voice continued, dipping her head in respect. Sili had born him one child. A bloodline Kaiteran wished he’d never created. Another item on his long list of regrets. “As such, his strength in bleeding was remarkable. The Ashjagar immediately went off to pursue Ranaz. A contact in Mazanib confirmed the emperor’s death. It is time.”
The communication winked off.
Kaiteran ground his teeth. “She left much to be desired.”
“There’s a reason she’s not well liked,” Murawi said.
“Who is Ashjagar? Did Nagesh use it on himself or was it somebody else?”
“I sent a communication back, but there has not yet been any further response.”
“Of course not.” Kaiteran looked back at the orb. “She must enjoy her semblance of power while it lasts.” He turned to the door. “Report if you get any further news.”
“As you wish.”
Kaiteran left, crossing through the large community room once again, making his way toward one of the surface tunnels. He rose up the steep incline, his muscles awakening with the motion. He’d slumbered too long. A deep breath filled his lungs. He’d taste the fresh air soon enough. A wall of stone stood before him. He pushed it aside with his magic, sealing warm air around him as he stepped out into the night air, crystalline stars beaming overhead. Everything in sight was frozen, locked behind ice and snow. This had been his country. His world.
But light glowed on the horizon. Something he hadn’t seen in years.
The sun was coming.
