GODSWAR: The Mask of Ares, Chapter 1

After that Prologue, we start the main story -- with some characters that readers of Phoenix Rising may remember!

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Chapter 1.

"Our mission ended some days ago, Ingram."

Ingram Camp-Bel kept himself from jumping in startlement only because he was used to Quester managing to surprise him. The seven-foot-tall Iriistiik was incredibly quiet despite size and his insectoid, chitinous armor. "We agreed to stay and help."

After almost two years together, Ingram could read Quester's expressions – which combined posture, gestures of antennae, and particular scents – almost as well as he could human, and what he smelled now was a tolerant amusement. "You wanted to stay and help, and I did not gainsay you. But the Vantages are well moved into their new home, and aside from that first night, there has been nothing of note."

"Urelle and Kyri lost their parents, and then their brother," Ingram said, with an inward twinge at the thought of his own family. "No one knows who or what did it, and if it, or they, are after the family – they could be just a week or two behind."

"I note you don't mention Lady Victoria."

Ingram snorted. "That old woman can protect herself."

The antennae waved and the cutting jaws click-clacked. "I can make no argument there. And they have already begun hiring a household. Do they truly need us anymore? Adventurers," a wave of the shining-black hand with its three clawed fingers, "are usually expected to Adventure. Unless you contemplate a change of profession to house guard?"

"Not sure I want to stay in one place all the time… but the beds and food are better, you have to admit that."

"Truth."

"I can't believe you did this!" a girl's voice shouted from across the hall. There was a window-rattling thud of a door slamming, and Ingram turned to see Urelle Vantage practically running up the stairs, tears in her huge gray eyes, ebony-shining hair streaming behind her. She skidded slightly as she hit the top, but caught herself and stormed into her own room, slamming that door as well.

Ingram found himself halfway up the stairs, mouth open, before he realized that, firstly, he had no idea what to say since he didn't know what was going on, and second, it wasn't his business, and third, he was supposed to be standing watch, and he couldn't do that looking at a closed door.

"What was that about?" he murmured as he returned to his post before the front window. He ignored the tilt of head and scent of mingled snowberry and cinnamon that was Quester's equivalent of a knowing grin.

"Obviously Lady Victoria has done something to meet with her disapproval," Quester said. "Not, naturally, that it is any of our concern."

"More that I've failed to do something," came the precise, if weary, voice of Victoria Vantage. The elegant, slender figure of their employer stood outlined in the door of her own room, from which Urelle had fled. "You may have noticed that Kyri did not come home this evening."

"I did, in fact, but I presumed she had business in town," Ingram said. "Not true?"

"Now that most of the day has passed, I can tell you that she will not be returning, at least not in the foreseeable future."

"What? You all just got here! Where's she gone off to?"

The tall woman regarded the two of them for a moment, black-and-silver hair adding a severity to her penetrating blue gaze – a gaze which lingered on the Guild patches on both their shoulders.

"She has just become Guilded, as are you," she said finally. "And felt there was some pressing business to attend—"

"Lady's Spear, she's gone back to Evanwyl for vengeance," Ingram heard himself say, and knew even as he said it that it had to be true.

One narrow eyebrow quirked upward. "Well, you do have the instincts for this job, I will allow. Not quite as simple as all that, young Ingram, but as a general idea, it will do. Kyri has found herself… Called, if you follow me."

Ingram nodded. "Like the God-Warriors back home," he said, remembering a particular face he had not seen in a long time and missed, badly.

"And young Urelle resents having been left out," Quester said.

"I am afraid…" Victoria shook her head with a rueful smile. "I am afraid she is far too much a Vantage to accept that she should simply stay back where she is safe."

"I'd think you'd be glad," Ingram ventured. "Being angry and wanting to do something… lot better than she was when we started."

He remembered his first sight of Urelle Vantage – a tiny figure in the carriage, face unnaturally pale beneath brown skin, gray eyes as dead as winter sunlight glinting on ice, staring blankly into the distance. Just recovered from her parents being killed, started to come out of her shell, then her brother's slaughtered a few hundred yards from home.

Victoria's gaze dropped, then she nodded. "Oh, far better, yes."

A belated shock hit Ingram. "Wait. Kyri just became Guilded? She didn't have a patch yesterday! That's … that's faster than we got it, and we took the expedited route!"

Victoria chuckled quietly. "Yes, it is a bit sudden. Come, let us sit down."

"I'm on guard—"

"I am quite sure we shall be safe enough in the side room, young Camp-Bel."

Well, she was the boss. Quester was already following her, so Ingram shrugged and went after them.

Victoria gestured at the standing teapot, which began steaming instantly. "A convenient trick one learns on the road," she said in answer to Ingram's blink of surprise. "Allow me to pour."

She served each of them in turn, then sat in the high-backed chair usually reserved for her use. "As I said, Kyri was Called. As Adventurers yourselves, and ones who have helped protect Kyri and myself as well as little Urelle, I feel it is no more than you have earned to know that her Call came from Myrionar Itself, after she discovered who was truly responsible for the murders of her parents and her brother." She gazed at them, that eyebrow arched again.

Ingram glanced at Quester, who suddenly stiffened. In his head, he heard the faint voice of his friend through the link they had forged over the last year or two: Ah. It is all too clear now. You understand, do you not, Ingram?

He thought; obviously both Victoria and Quester thought he had enough information to see the obvious. They didn't know who'd done it before we came. Then Kyri … well, she got so upset she just ran off into the Forest Sea, which was a crazy thing to do. She was lucky she came back alive. Whatever she found out made her so upset that she couldn't even think.

Kyri being Chosen did explain that moment he'd seen her the other day, where it looked like her hair was blue and gold, with a flash of silver-white over her forehead. She must have colored it black again afterward. Blue, silver, gold – Myrionar's colors. Victoria says it was Myrionar who chose Kyri, but that makes no sense; the representatives of Myrionar are …

"Ares' Balls," he breathed. "The Justiciars?"

"It does seem insane, doesn't it?" Victoria said. "The Justiciars are the chosen of a god. How could they betray the very ideals of the god they serve? But the evidence is far too strong to deny. And Myrionar confirmed Kyri's deductions Itself."

Quester dipped his antennae in a nod, moderated by a scent of vinegar and pine. "That she has a driving mission, that is understood; and, too, that it would be unwise for her younger sister to follow her without a god's support. But still the mystery of her becoming Guilded in less than one day remains."

"Good fortune is the answer – she chose well in her relatives and their acquaintances. One of them happens to be the Marshal of Hosts for the King, who is also an old Adventuring friend of mine. With him as a direct sponsor, she could get her patch in a matter of an hour or two."

Ingram almost dropped his teacup. "You know the Marshal of Hosts?"

"I do – as do you, I think."

"I've never been to the Palace," Ingram objected.

"Neither have I," Quester said. "The only Sauran either of us has ever met – as far as I am aware – is one named Toron, who administered the practical portion of our examination. I was given to understand he was retired from Adventuring, but still a visitor to the Guild."

"And right you were. But old Bridgebreaker, as we used to call him, just didn't bring up his other job. That's very much his way. He was meeting you as a fellow Guild member, not as an official of the Crown. But when I mentioned your name, and especially that you were travelling with an Iriistiik, he remembered you well."

Ingram stared. "He… Oh, Cycles! He mentioned that the adventure they used to test us… that when he'd gone through the real original of that adventure, his friend Victoria had been furious at him for missing her brother's wedding…"

"And yes, I was! Oh, my, that takes me back." She sipped at her tea, a faraway smile momentarily touching her face, eyes shining in memory; Ingram thought it made her look decades younger.

She blinked the reminiscence away. "In any event, now you understand what has happened, and why Urelle is so upset. I cannot, in honesty, blame her. In her position I'd be furious with me as well. But…"

"…but she's the last of your family," Ingram said. He felt an ache in his chest, the longing he always had to keep at bay, for a family that could never quite be his. "Camp-Bels understand that. Kyri's taking a dangerous road. I hope she knows what she's doing."

"When the gods direct us, we have to assume they know what they're doing," Victoria said dryly. "If this had been solely her idea, I assure you I would never have let her leave. But Myrionar Itself made her Its true Justiciar and laid Its command upon her – a command she accepted." She sighed. "I would not take it amiss if both of you were to say a prayer or two for her."

"I will remember her to the Lady," Ingram promised. He looked at Quester.

"And I, as well, shall make sure Shargamor hears my prayers for her." The insectoid gave a smooth bow and ripple of antennae.

"I thank you both, then." She stood. "It is getting a bit late – Urelle should have been asleep before now, but she always waited to say good night to Kyri, and thus… this." She glanced up the stairs, in the direction of Urelle's closed door. "Keep an eye out, if you would? I would not put it entirely past my youngest niece to pack up and attempt to head out on the road herself."

And that would be really, really bad. Oh, the Great Road itself was reasonably safe, but even it had its dangerous stretches, and several hundred miles before Evanwyl it grew more and more damaged until there was no Great Road at all. Even a pretty capable young wizard like Urelle would be in real danger at that point – as their recent journey from Evanwyl had proven.

"You can count on us, ma'am," he said emphatically. "We'll make sure she doesn't go anywhere."

"Thank you, Ingram." She crossed the front hall, heading towards her room.

Ingram looked at Quester. "You know what that means."

A buzz-sigh from his friend. "One of us must keep an eye on the windows upstairs."

"Hope she hasn't left yet."

"I will go. If I am not back, take it that I am certain she has not yet left precipitously, and thus I am watching."

"Got it. Assuming she hasn't already taken off, I'll come relieve you in … about four hours." That'd be long enough to get a decent nap in.

"Understood." Quester bowed and disappeared out the front door.

Ingram sighed and headed to his own room. Best get rest while I can!