by Laynie Bynum
And there it was—the lie he hated to utter. Talking about that was the last thing on his mind, at the moment, but at the moment, the ends justified the means.
For a breath, she stood with him in silence, side by side. The time was poignant beyond measure. For him. He could only hope that she felt at least some regret for pushing him aside.
At last, reluctantly, he broke the silence first. It was time to let the disks fall where they may. "You know, your treaties used to be unbreakable, but look around. Lately, it seems they're anything but that."
"Bah. Forget about that. Tell me—is it true?" She stood motionless, looking up at the ivory moon above, but the set of her shoulders and her jutting chin told him everything he needed to know. She was anxious for the answer.
"Is what true?" He already knew the answer, but hoped with all his might that he was wrong.
She turned her head, glacially slowly, to look directly at him. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed. "You know perfectly well. If you continue this charade, then I'll say it straight… Did you propose to Y'serra?"
Onen let out a long, forceful breath through pressed lips. Of course, that was it. It had been too much to hope he could avoid it.
She curled her upper lip back on one side. "Tell it true, and damn your 'pragmatism.' I promise you, this is no time for your usual calculating ways."
"I’m not calculating. You make me sound cold and heartless. I deal with the world that is, not the one I wish it to be. I just speak with forethought, after thinking about the best way to say it, instead of rushing in blind and hoping it all works out the way I want."
"So... calculating. But I speak with my heart, and if you want to talk to me now, that’s the language you'll use. I trust heart-speak far more than I do any pretty words you’ve decided will have the greatest effect. You'll find that has quite the opposite effect on me, betrayer. I know you too well. You forget that."
Onen took in a deep breath and looked around the melancholy field. It was still spattered everywhere with the blood of those who'd fallen on that very ground, and if he couldn't gain a boon from her, there’d soon be more of the same. "I called you here to discuss us." He had not… "But you gave me very little choice."
She tilted her head back and laughed. "The mighty Onen has no choice? Ha. You had a choice. You could have kept your heart next to mine." Her laugh vanished, replaced with pursed lips and clenched jaw.
He cocked his head and glanced at her before he could stop himself. She had to have seen his confusion, curse it. But why should he be the one to apologize? This was her doing, not his. He stood to his full height, his whole body feeling rigid with the tension flowing through him. "You’re the one who turned away, you who placed your heart next to another's.”
“What are you— “
“No. My heart stayed right where it always has been, and still is, but you left me empty and cold. You don’t get to be angry at me for honoring your choice. I hated it, but things are what they are. If I did propose to Y’serra, it was only because she was there—and you weren’t."
Savarah stepped away from him, staring him in the eyes. "I told you I'd have none of your calculating, pragmatic speeches. I loved you, and I thought you knew it. With every fiber of my heart, I loved you. There, I’ve said it.”
“Then why— “
” Oh, but that wasn't enough, not for Onen. Not when you can have any woman you want.”
Onen found himself clenching and unclenching his hands. The cool night air was suddenly hot enough to make his armor uncomfortable. “I only wanted you, Savarah. What don’t you understand about that?”
“Maybe the part where I found out from someone else that you proposed to Y’serra. That sounds a lot like your heart moving away from mine, dammit.”
“That’s not what happened.” What on Iynia was she talking about? “But whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”
“But crushing my heart to be with her wasn’t enough, was it? After you stuck your ridiculous blue knife in my heart, now you dare call for me to help you? Here, of all places, the same valley where I learned you’d betrayed me. You’re rubbing my nose in what you did, is that it?"
"What are you talking about?" How had she gotten events so mixed up? She fell in love with someone else first, and now she had the gall to blame him? “People aren’t always honest when it comes to taking responsibility, it seems.”
"Bah." Without another word, she turned her back and walked away, into the mist that had settled over the suddenly chilly field. In three paces, she was gone.
He was left alone with his thoughts and his broken heart, standing in an empty battlefield. The one woman who could have helped forge the treaties to save all of Iynia had left without even one look back.
"Well, it’s done. There’s no use dwelling on it.” It was time to go talk to his most trusted lieutenant. Fortunately, they shared a blood-bond, which made meeting a lot easier.
"Beru," he said in a whisper that roared, reverberating with his power.
In the air before him, an archway shimmered into existence.
He stepped through, and was gone.
Chapter Two
Onen glanced around his new surroundings. It was a military camp, of course. Where else would Beru be?
In the camp’s center stood the largest tent he could see, a canvas pavilion that dwarfed most of those around it. He walked to it, hardly noticing the soldiers bowing low as he passed by. He flung the double-flap aside, crouching to pass under the doorway. "Beru?"
At a large table covered with maps, a man in plate armor looked up. He grinned over the heads of the soldiers around him. "Suun, my lord. I’m glad to see you. How fared the battle you left me out of?"
Onen's collar grew suddenly hot, but he took a deep breath. Beru had no way of knowing the disaster than had happened, not yet. So, it wasn’t a jab at him. “If you’d been there, instead of here protecting the great Lake of Life, you’d likely be just one more dead lieutenant. That's what I need your council on."
Beru's smile faded. "Come. Let's speak in private."
Onen followed him until they passed through a single flap at the huge tent’s rear. It was larger than most any normal door, but both he and Beru had to crouch to get through.
Within, a faint shimmer of magic had been woven into the tapestries lining the canvas walls, and it was comfortably warm inside. The din of Beru's busy command post vanished as the flap fell back into place behind them.
"Now then." Beru stopped and turned to Onen, his hands clasped in front of him. "Tell it true. What happened?"
The vision came to mind of all Onen’s dead followers, laid out into one large symbol for their death rites. "We won." Not strategically, though. And the price hadn’t been worth the win.
Beru nodded and clenched his jaw. "I see. How much of your western army remains?"
"Fewer than a fifth of the Warriors in White remain. It looks like you’ll get to see the action you crave, and soon."
Beru looked down. "And Savarah? Her treaties..."
The mention of her name felt like a spear into his heart now. He grimaced. "Let's discuss our other options."
Beru's head whipped up, surprise on his face, but he quickly regained his bearing. "We need to talk about the lovely Y'serra, my lord."
It was Onen's turn to be surprised. "My betrothed? Watch your next words carefully."
"It’s my duty to bring important matters to your attention. If you order me not to, I’ll be as silent as death rites."
Onen let out a long breath. It would be nice not to be second-guessed at every turn.
Then again, he had always made it a point to surround himself with those who would second-guess him—it kept him grounded, and they often offered points of view he hadn’t considered. Fine, then. "Go ahead. I'm just not in the mood for a third world-shattering, heart-rending surprise."
"In the mood or not... My lord, please, I have to ask you once again to stop bringing her in
to your confidence. She’s beautiful, no doubt about that. And, she’s skilled in many wonderful arts. For the most part, she seems kind and given to caring for other people. But surely, you must have seen in her what I’ve seen."
"Which is?"
Beru coughed into his hand, clearing his throat. "I’ve spent very little time with her, and even I can see she’s rather, um, unpredictable. She seems to be made up of two sides. I see two personalities in her. Don’t tell me you only see the one you want.”
Curse Beru, but he was right. It was hard to pretend otherwise when his most trusted lieutenant said the same thing he’d tried to overlook. But his issues with Y’serra was a minor issue, at that moment. "I’ll take it under advisement. Thank you for telling me a hard truth as you see it. I came here to talk about something else, though.”
“Of course, my lord. What’s on your mind?”
Onen paused. He often asked for input from his friends and advisors, but it went against his nature to admit he had no idea what to do. Usually, he could just pick a path and doing something was better than standing idle, thinking. Not so, at the moment. He took a deep breath. “Strategy. We're at a crossroads, and I can’t ken the right way to go."
Beru poured two glasses of brilliant blue liquid from a decanter and handed one to Onen. "Valethorn wine will calm those nerves. Mine, too. You’ve got me kind of spooked."
Onen took it, but only sipped at it. He needed to stay sharp, for the time being.
Beru sighed, staring into his cup. "The bad news, which is the only kind we seem to get, lately, is that there is a new kind of ur’gel.”
A chill went down Onen’s spine, and he froze mid-sip. “Say that again? Are you sure?”
“I've heard whispers from our scouts and battle survivors, all with similar descriptions. The enemy has something new in his ranks, some kind of ur'gel we’ve never seen.”
That was bad news, and the timing... “Okay, first thing’s first. What do we know of them? What are their weaknesses?”
“Sorry. So far, no one who made it back alive after meeting one said they’d killed one, nor seen it done. That could be bad news for the next battle.”
Onen felt dizzy for a moment. How was it possible? He’d wandered Iynia for lifetimes without seeing anything new under the moons. But did that really matter? His course was fixed, and he’d just have to find a way to deal with them, as he had every other challenge. “There’s always a way. Don’t be alarmed, Beru. Remember, everything can die, everything has a weakness. Not me, of course. But everything else. And if it can die, you can kill it.”
Beru smiled wanly, but then his expression fell. “Why would he bring it out now? Your last battle was supposed to have been... well, the last one. Your big win, the end of the war."
Onen's eyebrows furrowed. A new kind of ur'gel... Change was always bad. It never worked out well for anyone but the dark lord, no matter what kind of change it was. Challenging traditions was almost always a terrible change, but new ur'gel ranked pretty high.
But, maybe it was moot. Onen squared his shoulders. “It may not matter.”
Beru was lifting his cup to his lips, but stopped before drinking. He set it on a table and turned to face Onen head-on. “Oh? I’m definitely curious. Why won’t it matter? It seems pretty important, to me.”
“Because I have a plan.”
Beru cocked his head. “Why tell me?”
Onen smiled. Beru was rough around the edges and had never had much use for tact. “Why tell you? Simply--I’ll need your help. If Dag'draath’s scheming keeps us from our victory in battle, then we’ll have to try something else.—something I only trust you to handle." The man thrived on praise, which was handy.
"What did you have in mind?" The corners of Beru’s mouth turned upward a bit.
Onen's eyes narrowed and his expression turned savage. "We're going to create a prison for the dark lord. Like me, he can’t be killed, but unlike me, he’s too slippery and cowardly to fight head-on.”
“All over the world, people would love the chance to actually fight in your name, and do it directly. No intermediaries to mix up the message. So, we’ll rally a new army and beat him that way. He’s never won a major battle yet.” Beru smashed his fist into his other palm, punctuating his words.
“Why? So I can have another ten-thousand deaths on my conscience?”
“You won your last battle, I should point out.”
“Yes, and it cost me an entire army.”
“But it cost his too. It was worth the price, even if it was higher than what we expected to pay.”
Onen paused. Was it worth the price? What about the next battle? “When does it stop being worth it? As long as Dag’draath lives, there will always be another ‘last battle’ to fight. No. I think I’ve found a way to save the people of this world from his corruption—a way that doesn’t involve an endless war."
"You've come to me for a task, you said." Beru drew himself to his full height. "My lord, my blade is your weapon, my hands are your tools, your will is my own. Now, should I go get a hammer, or did you have something else in mind?"
Onen squared his shoulders. Beru’s brand of loyalty was priceless, but it had to be earned. It was an honor to have Beru’s. “We’ll create a prison, but to do it, I need a stone. Not just any stone. This one has been hidden away since the dawn of things, and the old legends say it’s protected by many tests and challenges. Only the best could hope to reach it, but I know that, of all people, you’ll easily pass those tests."
Beru brought his left fist over his chest, the salute of servant to master, not for one of Beru's rank to his lord. It was a great honor.
"I don't need to tell you how important this mission is. The whole world may well depend on you finding that stone. Out of all the people I could send, you’re the one I trust the most to get it done right."
Beru’s pride shone bright. "Yes, lord. You can count on me, always. But, Onen, be careful. Dag'draath has bigger plans than what we've seen, and neither of us know them."
Onen took a drink of the Valethorn wine, and it was no merfolk sip. If only Savarah hadn't turned her heart away from him, the world would be safe, and none of this tragedy would have happened. For the first time, he felt a sliver of anger when he thought of her, instead of a crushing sense of loss.
Bah, changes never turned out well.
Chapter Three
The small waystation settlement was set near the base of a steep range of hills, with numerous canyons spread around it on one side. It was nestled against the shores of a massive lake, teeming with fishermen and merchant ships bringing goods on the other.
As Onen sped onward, its towers were the first to emerge from the surrounding lush forests and verdant Valethorn plantations, source of the best wines in the world.
Like many of the airship ports scattered about the continent, this one had been there for a long time. The Guild operated them all. So they were independent towns—self-contained bastions that survived the rise and fall of empires by taking no sides in conflicts. They were also the only source of a vital service, and because of that, many waystations were among the oldest settlements on the continent.
Onen didn't see the natural beauty spread all around him, though. He saw only his ultimate target, the mighty city Abrecem Secer and its great library, which was much too far away to reach in time if he continued to travel by land, even with his wondrous horse.
His solution to that problem was easy. Don’t travel by land. He spurred his horse faster and said, "Speed, Rorcham. We're almost there, so spend what energy you have left."
The horse, Rorcham, reared a little for purchase with its hind hooves and leapt forward, its pearl-white coat seeming to take on a faint, sparkling glow. The forest whipped by too quickly for Onen's eyes to make out individual trees, so he let go of the reins and held onto the saddle horn with both hands. At those speeds, onlyu the horse itself could follow the path winding through the trees without ending up smeared acro
ss one.
Rorcham came to an abrupt halt at a large, wooden gate engraved with a mural of airships coming and going, fighting sky pirates, or dropping kegs of fire-sand on raiders attacking the settlement. They were images from an older age, when those things were common—though in the current turmoil, those scourges that were again on the rise.
One of the gate’s guardians jumped back in surprise. He leveled his halberd, and the other three followed his lead. "Who seeks entrance to Port Three-Five-Seven?"
It was a standard question he must have asked a dozen times daily, but this time, his voice shook.
Onen smiled at him. It was always good to see a soldier doing their duty in the face of the strange and frightening. "Relax, guardian. I’m Onen Suun, and I need to arrange travel."
All four soldiers froze, eyes wide. The one who’d challenged him was the first to recover, and gave Onen the standard Guild greeting, the same at every skyship port Onen had been to. "My lord, today's safe travels are brought to you by the Guild of Airships. Enter, and enjoy the fastest travel in the world."
The guardian rushed to blow his whistle, and within moments, the tall, broad gates opened wide enough to allow Onen through.
Inside the walled airship port, the layout was bland and closely matched every other port Onen had been to. Service stations lined the outer walls, with warehouses deeper in. At the center, a two-story platform covered hundreds of square yards, half-full of docked airships loading or unloading their cargo and passengers.
A siren at the platform sounded faintly in the distance, announcing a ship's arrival.
He spared a moment to watch the ship land. The ground crews scurried to grab the mooring lines as the ship’s crew tossed them down from both sides of the fore and aft castles. The contraptions never ceased to amaze him.
Onen rode the cobblestone road to the landing, up a ramp large enough for two wagons abreast, and onto the airfield platform itself. To his left, a small ship stood with its cargo gates open, but no cargo was loading or unloading. It must have just arrived, if it hadn’t yet contracted for another journey. That would be just perfect for his needs. Hopefully, he could negotiate a lighter fee if the ship's master didn't yet have anything under contract.
