by Sage, May
Elden twirled the weapon in his hand to feel its weight while running forward, ahead of his armies. When he reached the front line, he aimed, drew his arm back, and threw the lance.
Qirdess was fast enough to attempt to alter his course, though it only resulted in changing his path by a fraction of an inch. The lance hit him on the side of his neck, instead of between the eyes, where Elden had aimed. The armor protected him some, delaying his suffering: the weapon had planted itself deep enough to guarantee his death, shallow enough to make it slow.
Elden grimaced. "That could have been cleaner."
"Mayhaps. But I'd wager it'll make a nice song, sir," one of his soldiers suggested.
"Marvelous idea. We'll try to compose it tonight after the people have elected their new ruler.”
Whatever reply the soldier gave was drowned in the scream of a horn coming from the back of the forces.
Elden frowned, turning to face Loxy. That was one of their scouts; there was no mistaking the sound of their own horn.
Loxy didn't see him, gaze set in the distance, behind the army.
Elden drowned out the sounds around him and extended his mind to reach a greater distance.
Then he heard them. Thousands of hooves hitting the floor at a great speed. Shouts of orders muffled by the hundreds of miles that separated them.
Finally. The Corantians had responded to their attacks.
The real war was starting.
He returned to his horse and mounted it.
"I'll take the east," Loxy announced.
He nodded. As the mother of his children, she was given greater liberty than most of his commanders. The others awaited their orders.
"Veran, west flank. Revere, I want your archers with boards on the surrounding hills to cut their retreat. Ylli, I need to know their numbers. Sirel, you stay hidden until we know whether we're outmatched."
All acquiesced and moved to surround the Corantian forces.
Now, Elden was thinking about his second daughter.
Playing at war against ridiculously unmanned cities was one thing, but an open conflict against thousands of scions, quite another.
He prayed Devira came through, and fast. Otherwise, win or lose, there would be too many losses on both sides.
Twenty-One
Legacy
"Are you sure about this?"
Devin smiled at Jibriel. "Why? Do you want to go back to the city and tell and tell Shea Blackthorn I’ve changed my mind?"
The fae shivered, then replied, "I will, if you order it. You're our king."
Devin smiled. "Perhaps. Yet she'll defend the city. Her people are here, too."
Devin embraced his breast-brother, before stepping outside the gates.
Among the fighters mounted on the fifty dyrmounts, one face stood out. Devin smiled, approaching Jiya. "Are you coming north?"
"Someone has to make sure your pretty head stays on your shoulders." She grinned. "Besides, my best friend is in the north with Shea's son. I'll help however I can."
She was the loyal sort. "Glad to hear it."
Jiya looked around, to the five thousand soldiers on foot. "So, we have awesome horses, but we'll have to trot alongside soldiers on foot again. That blows."
Devin laughed. "Not precisely. This time, it's your turn to try keeping up."
He whistled a clear command and spelled his voice with airshadow to reach far and wide. Before long, the first wave of winged beasts appeared from the nearby woods and plains. Then more came, and those who lived down in the south, the beasts hiding north and west. All landed before the gates of Elderdale and bowed their heads low.
Devin stepped in front of the closest creature and spoke out to his men. "All right, those of you who haven't ridden a gryffin before, it's quite simple. Sit astride them like you would a horse, and while you may hold on to their neck, it's not necessary. They will not let you fall, and if they do, they'll catch you again. Talk to them; they understand as much as any of you. The more they like you, the greater your chance of survival. And above all, there's one rule. Do not pull their feathers."
"Really?" Jiya yelled as Devin climbed his beast. "I get your old boring horse and you guys get gryffins?"
"Are you ever content with your lot, female?"
"I would be if I had my own gryffin."
Devin laughed and whispered, "Rise."
He would have given the unseelie soldier a gryffin if he could, but Jiya wore the green cape of Shea's officers, indicating that she was in charge of some of their soldiers. It wouldn't do to separate them from their captain.
His beast punched the ground with its sharp talons and took flight, heading to the portals in the Graywoods.
They could have reached it in mere hours, except they had to stop frequently to let the dyrmounts catch up.
Devin had felt some guilt at the thought of roping in wild creatures for war; it felt like abusing his power over the gryffins. Despite that, they seemed happy. Every time they stopped, the beasts played with one another, sparring in displays of strength and brutality that made him glad they were on his side.
He realized that the gryffins were probably more enthusiastic about going to war than any of the fae forming his company. Fighting was their nature, their predilection.
Devin wondered how the relationship between the Farels and the beasts had started at the beginning. It was a pact sealed in blood, that much was clear; otherwise, the beasts wouldn't obey him now. Whatever deal his ancestors had made, they'd ensured it was linked to their bloodline.
"Do you know why your king answers me, I wonder?" he asked, looking in the eyes of his mount.
The beast was silent of course. Gryffins had never been able to speak. Still, looking in its dark eyes, Devin was sure that the beast knew. Perhaps it even remembered it.
The gryffin puffed out its chest and opened its mouth. A high-pitched screech resounded, and suddenly, as surely as if the beast had spelled out the words, Devin knew.
"A blood debt."
He frowned. It didn't compute. "Saving one of you wouldn't have warranted the fealty of all of your kind, I don't think."
The beast lowered its head to Devin's chest. He instinctively lifted his hand to its side, and the moment he touched it, he saw the image of another time.
Small, hungry, thirsty, wounded gryffins were locked in cages, eating whatever rats or worms wandered into their prison until a little boy with dark hair and eyes was locked up among them. Their prisoners had expected the beasts to eat him, and they would have, had he been grown, but they didn't feed on children, no matter their race.
The boy took sharp bones from the floor and used them to unlock the doors as soon as the guards were distracted.
Devin's gryffin stepped back.
"Ah. One of my ancestors saved you. All of you. From…"
There had been something peculiar about the guards. They didn't look quite like fae. Bulkier, taller than common fae, with rounded ears. Their skin had seemed pale, almost bluish.
The gryffin screeched again and Devin knew.
"Orcs."
No wonder they were so enthusiastic about going to fight against more orcs in the north.
"Do you have a name?"
The gryffin's talons scratched the ground impatiently, as though Devin should have known, or at least guessed.
"Queen. You're the queen."
The beast shook its head proudly.
"Well, it's an honor. And glad that we can communicate, Queen."
The dyrmounts and their knights were approaching again.
"Up for another ride?"
Queen screeched. "All right then. Let's go."
Twenty-Two
City of Stench
In Verdessa, a larger village, an old couple had prepared them rooms so they could rest during the day. Right before they reached Kevanon, a river town large enough to have a regular posting of scion guards at its gates, a merchant awaited them with a wagon full of hay under which Vale and D
evi hid so they could enter without being seen. And when Rula rode back to them after scouting Romel, the last stop before the immortal city, she told them the guards were gone when she'd reached the gates.
"Some fae slipped them sleeping draughts during their lunch break. We have an hour or two."
Everyone was taking risks, and no one seemed to have mentioned their arrival, though, no doubt, Rook would have handsomely rewarded information about Vale's and Devi's whereabouts.
Finally, a week after reaching the first village surrounding the Crystal Court, they were inside the immortal city.
They'd entered via merchant gates, along with a long line of artisans who'd thoroughly, purposely ignored them.
Devi didn't think she'd ever seen a city so rotten. In the distance, the inner city was white and opalescent, but once they entered downtown, the streets were marred, stinking of waste and sewer.
"The fae live here," Telenar told them. "The scions, in the clean, gated territory a mile forward, right at the feet of the Court of Crystal."
No wonder that they'd be so willing to aid a prince they didn't even know. Anything was better than being condemned to a life of suffering, living on top of each other in fetid streets because of what they were born.
Devi had thought about the unseelie realm, her home, about her own survival, and about the prospect of having billions of orcs invading their land, at first. Now, it was more. Corantius was everything that was wrong with the differentiation of the castes, only a thousandfold, and flipped on its head, because in the rest of the Isle, the high fae were the apex of the food chain.
Devi remembered Rook telling her this, many times.
"You generally just hang out in your room until the last possible second. Not that I blame you. It’s like the size of my entire place. Plus the neighbor’s. And you have people wiping your butt too.”
She'd dismissed it, thought that he was unfair to envy her, because she did her best for her people; she was a good lord, compared to the rest of the court. Now she understood what he'd meant to make her comprehend. That her privilege was wrong at the core.
Devi was starting to understand Rook, and she hated it. She wished she could have painted him with a villain's brush and been done with it. But if any of the fae condemned to live in such conditions had had the power to put a stop to it, would they have done anything different?
Devi remembered her father's tale of a Prince of Worms, desperate and starving, alone in the woods. If his orc mother had shown him kindness before she passed away, there was no surprise in his obsession for that part of his family. Rook's tale was a tragedy. Nevertheless, if they let him win, the entire Isle would share his fate…his doom.
Her eyes remained ahead, on the shimmering castle beyond the gates of the inner city.
She felt sorry for her former friend. All the same, she'd drag him to the throne and then let him rot in a dungeon for the rest of his days.
"Naelynn?"
She and Vale had fallen back into their borrowed names with ease. She turned to him.
"It's getting late. We should rest. Let's find an inn, shall we?"
In other words, they should get off the street before they became too noticeable. This wasn't a village or a small town. They'd passed a soldier on every street corner.
"Any recommendations?" she asked Telenar.
He rode one of the village horses by behind her. "I left a thousand years ago," he reminded her. "I haven't stayed up to date with the city gazette. But I'd say anywhere in this part of town should do nicely."
In order for them to be inconspicuous, in any case.
Devi nodded and scanned the storefronts, in search of an inn. This street seemed to be the province of fish and meat vendors, however. If there had been lodging here, she might have ignored it. She doubted she could sleep with the smell all around.
They reached an intersection and took a larger avenue, better presented and marginally cleaner. The streets of tanners, shoemakers, and dressmakers kept going until it reached a square with pubs.
Devi bit her lip. "Ruven?" she called to Vale, still sticking to their pseudonyms.
He shook his head. "It might be a little too busy for us."
They went down that street and reached a serpentine alley with a few inns. That was more like it.
"No."
Devi lifted a brow, turning to Vale questioningly.
"These aren't the pleasant sort."
"We've traveled in the snow for a month. Pleasant is relative."
"He means to say they're whorehouses, brothels, that sort of thing," Rula translated.
Oh.
"Would they rent us rooms?"
Telenar snorted. "Certainly. Although their rate may be by the hour, and they'd have certain assumptions about you ladies."
Devi rolled her eyes. "I don't care about assumptions."
She tugged Alarik's reins to turn toward the alley, when Vale made Midnight step forward and bar the way. "I said no. These…establishments will be owned by scions," he added in a whisper.
Ah, that certainly changed things.
They'd spent too much time here already, and some eyes were darting toward them.
"All right. You pick a place, then."
Valerius rode forward, until they reached an option he approved of—a small bed and breakfast along the outer city wall.
He paid for four rooms for a week in cash, keeping his demeanor friendly and open, making a show of staying downstairs for a drink as though he had nothing to hide.
The city was different from the villages and towns they'd crossed. The gazes on them were not merely curious; they felt greedy. Desperate. Devi guessed half of these people would sell them out for a hot meal.
When they finally headed up to their rooms, she said, "I'll take the first turn of guard. We're going to need you at the top of your form. We have to keep our appearances hidden."
Vale smirked. "No, you sleep first. I'm just fine."
He felt fine. He looked it, too. She wondered why; back in Rhionhave, changing their features in the minds of those they came across had drained him.
He answered her unasked questioned, pulling his crown from his cloak and handing it to her.
"Is it working now?"
He shrugged. "I'm not sure? A little, at least. It's certainly replenishing my energy. I doubt that's all it's supposed to do, though."
Devi smiled, giving it back to him. "Well, every little bit helps. And if you're sure, I'll sleep."
She didn't even get undressed, instead heading right to the bed, and she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
She didn’t think she’d been out of it for more than a couple of minutes before Vale whispered in her ear softly, waking her up. The light outside had waned, giving way to a soft reddish dusk, so she must have crashed for hours. Or days, who knew?
Vale’s alarm poured through her veins as surely as if it was her own. “What is it?”
He shushed her by bringing one finger to her lips before pointing to the window. She followed him, staying close to the wall and looking out to the streets.
Soldiers in armor. Too many of them, all entering this place.
The others had been right, they’d brought too much attention to themselves earlier in the street. Dammit, it was all her fault
She had so many questions, but could speak none aloud. Then she remembered she didn’t have to. Not with a psychic who was bonded to her mind.
“What about the others?” she asked, directly reaching for his mind.
“I’ve warned them. We have to separate. They’ll get out of here easier than us.”
The scions would be after Vale, and her, his known associate. There was no knowing whether his mind tricks would work on this lot. Vale was powerful, but some were naturally well protected against mind invasion.
Abandoning their friends went against all of her instincts. Devi’s hand went to the hilt of the Enlightened sword she’d never removed. Let’s fight, she wanted to
challenge.
And then an annoying, overly smug voice echoed in her mind. Words that shouldn’t have made such an impact on her.
If you value the lives of the few over the many every time you have a hard choice to make, you are doomed.
She hadn’t heeded them when she’d seen an alternative. But now, so close to their goal?
She nodded, opening the window, and leapt on the banister, then on the roof. It was lucky that night had fallen; scions could still see as clearly as they, but nature was still on their side.
Devi called to her air power and clouds gathered overhead, mist shrouding the streets.
She jumped down, and Vale joined her, equally silent and agile.
With a last glance toward the inn, seeking the window next to theirs, she turned back and followed Vale’s steps north.
Toward the castle.
It was time.
In the distance, bells started ringing, loud and incessant. Even if she couldn’t feel the unease of the crowd below, she would have been able to tell that those sounds weren’t usual.
They were bells of war.
Twenty-Three
Perspective
Atop the highest tower, Rook observed the city below, eyes narrowing on the crowd beyond their gates.
It had been faint at first, but know he could feel it, feel him. His second brother. He was close.
Good.
Rook needed to conclude the matter, one way or another.
Rook closed his eyes, trying to decide on a course of action. Inevitable as his brother's presence was, it had come sooner than he'd expected it, considerably changing his timeline. His goal hadn't changed. And if life had taught him anything, it was that there were many paths leading to the same summit.
Now that Valerius had made it here, alive, Rook had to face the possibility that he might take the throne. Sitting on a dusty old chair wasn't what he'd aimed to accomplish, all these years. Let the boy take the throne if it chose him. Becoming overking wasn't the only way to gain the power Rook needed.
An idea had been skirting the edge of his mind since he'd heard of his brother's adventures in Staren. Valerius had blown the security by destroying the generator operating the walls surrounding the Stormhale keep.
