Keepers of the Crown

by Lydia Redwine

  Riah heard a hint of something genuine ringing in it. “That he

  would not. How quickly you have learned, and you have yet to

  meet him.”Riah did not shift even as the flashing blue eyes and

  massive wings roved his memory’s wall. His body clenched in on

  itself. A coldness passed through him deeper than the draft. Leviathan spoke again. “Lucius can be contained in a few

  sentences. He is a fallen prince, someone who tried and failed, a

  warrior, a cruel, beautiful monster. But it would take eons and a

  mind and tongue so far beyond our own to even begin to describe

  Elyon. He is everything. The beginning and the end and

  everything between.”

  “He doesn't sound very terrible to me,” Riah remarked.

  “Not like Lucius does. You’ve said that Lucius hates Elyon and

  why, but I cannot make sense of it. Cannot even begin to fathom

  his hatred.” Riah’s mind buzzed, its wakefulness a light. Leviathan had turned away as Riah had spoken, but was

  now turning back. He was edging closer. And in the glimmers of

  moonlight falling upon the Shadow Bearer’s tattered robes, his

  mind flashed to lightning and thunder and the jagged rock of a

  cliff. “Elyon has come. The Savior is here.”

  Riah swallowed against the memory, forcing the lump in

  his throat to subside. “Think, Riah. Think in themindoftheHeir

  of Gnosi. Think in the mind of a son who lost his mother and

  watched his father do nothing about it.”

  Riah started. “I never told anyone about any of that. To

  Saffira, some, yes...butLeviathan?” No. The Shadow Bearer had

  probably peered into his mind. But Riah did think back. He did bring about his father’s face before he had been swept away by Elyon in that valley so many months ago. The face of his father made his stomach churn, his chest blaze with fury kindled over the span of years. So many years… “But…” Riah broke his own thoughts with words. “Elyon never did such things to Lucius, did

  He?”

  Leviathan's next statement was too simple to be anything

  satisfying. “No, He did not.” Silence passed, a silence that made

  Riah shift uncomfortably in his seat. He began to rise. He had to

  just...move.And it was growing terribly coldin here. “But Lucius

  despises his own father, and you know what that feels like.” “Oh…” was all Riah could manage, though a thousand

  questions burned behind it. He began walking from the room.

  His hands itched to hold a brush. Too many images were rattling

  through his head to keep contained. They needed to find solidity

  and substance.

  Leviathan spoke once more as Riah reached the door

  between the throne room and the gallery. His voice was a

  whisper of ice along Riah’s bones. “And that dream you had just

  now...it will happen. One day, Riah Drakon, you will find me on

  the edge of the cliff of my own sanity and redemption. And I will

  not see anything before me.”

  The sunlight was so golden on the polished table that Riah

  could only drift his fingers over its surface to touch the light. Arria watched him with a grin as she buttered the sweetly scented bread before her and took it into her mouth in generous pieces. “It’s so warm here...and it has to be freezing in Gnosi right now.” The dragons were the reason. That was the last thing Riah had read. That the dragon’s magic extended beyond their ability to spew flames from their nostrils. They could change the atmosphere itself. “There is no way in hell I could ever paint this,” Riah was thinking.

  As if she could hear his thoughts, Arria laughed. Riah cast her a forced glare. “What about this amuses you so much?”

  She shrugged. “It's neat, your fascination with substance and color.”

  “And texture,” Riah added. “And light and shadow.” He smiled. Arria threw a round piece of fruit at him. He caught it with ease and bit into it with a snarky grin sparkling in his eyes.

  Arria took a long pull from her teacup before clinking it into its saucer and releasing a long, satisfied sigh. She leaned back against the plush cushions that the two of them had arranged in this corner of an offhand sitting room. The room they had made their own private dining quarters ever since, a few days ago, Leviathan had begun ushering in scores of Shadow Bearers.

  “The army we are building,” he had said. “They’ve been waiting. Hiding. Prowling. They want to make a move. And they’re right. It is time. So they will stay here until the Master sends word.”

  “In the dragon keep?” Riah had questioned. “Here?”

  “Yes, here,” Levithan had replied firmly, with ice lacing his words.

  Though Riah knew that soon enough the Shadow Bearers would be his constant company, it still alarmed him to walk into the halls or the throne room or dining room and find a figure just standing there in either tattered or elaborate robes. Most of them were astonishingly perfect in their features. Too perfect. Riah shuddered at the memory. There were too many of them. And they were everywhere. But he did have to admit that being here in this tiny room with Arria was pleasant enough when they were surrounded by cakes and wines and fruits and bread and meats while they basked in the morning sunlight. He couldn't remember a more delightful breakfast.

  Riah leaned back, parchment and charcoal in hand to finish off the sketch he had begun that morning. Half of his food was still on his plate. He couldn't resist smiling as the charcoal slid over the paper, its dusty markings making figures and forms. But even with images drifting in his head, he could sense Arria watching him with restless eyes. She sighed again. “What?” he bit out. But his eyes were sparkling when he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

  “I was just thinking about how this is going to be one of the last truly happy moments we will have in a long time. We won’t have the pleasures of taking our time and eating whatever wewant soon enough.We’llbeoffinabattleinan efforttoplease someone who doesn’t give a damn about baked morning meals and sunlight.”

  Riah peered at her, her words sobering him more than he liked. It was putting a damper even on the sunlight. It was turningthelight into somethingfleeting. “But becauseofLucius, we have this place and this food.”

  Arria looked wistfully towards the window which reached from floor to ceiling and had been thrown open to allow the warm morning air to drift through. “But it is not Lucius who gives us light.”

  “Arria…” Riah started in a voice he meant to sound comforting. He didn’t want such thoughts spoken aloud. He wanted only to enjoy what they had now. Before the battle and blood and pain. And possible failure. And seeing Glista again.

  Arria turned, a mustered smile on her lips. “And friendship,” she added. “We have made that for ourselves.”

  Riah smiled too. “Yes, we have. And we’re going to stay friends, no matter what.”

  Her eyes said, “Unless we die,” but she did not speak them aloud. She tilted her head than to see what he was drawing but still had to ask.

  With a dramatic flip and flutter of the parchment Riah said, “This, Lady Arria is an inexplicable masterpiece of the prestigious Lady of the Wolves that I have drawn in the midst of pain in the effort to douse my ire with amusement.”

  Arria’s brows rose, but a laugh burbled from her the instant she saw the image. “How utterly filthy of you, Riah!” she exclaimed. “Put it away! Don’t ever show me something like that again!”

  Riah’s ribs ached, and he couldn't breathe with the laughter shaking him even as he dodged the fruit Arria chucked at him. The next piece thunked the side of his head before rolling to the floor. He lay on the floor for a long time, his sides and lungs burning with the laughter, his face red and bright. Arria was at his side, snatching the parchment from him even as he
protested. In a few short tears, the parchment was fluttering in parts to the floor to be crushed beneath Arria’s foot.

  “You ruined it,” he whined.

  “And you just ruined my innocence!” she said with arms folded over her chest. But Riah didn’t have to look at her to know that her eyes were brighter than they had been a moment before.

  He returned to his seat, reaching once again for his food as he said, “You know, Arria, it's been a long time since I’ve had a friend as good as you.” She smiled, knowing his statement to be sincere. She opened her mouth to say something in return when the sitting room door burst open.

  Leviathan looked livid. “I have been looking everywhere for you two and I find you hiding in here? And you’re eating? At least, you could be in bed.”

  Arria choked on her tea. Riah goaded him on, “Well you didn’t look hard enough earlier on. And we’re eating because we already worked up an appetite earlier in the be” Riah’s words ceased when yet another harder piece of fruit slammed into the side of his head. “Ow!” Arria threw another one.

  Leviathan held no amusement in his disposition or in his countenance. “How childlike.” Arria was poised to throw yet another piece of fruit when Leviathan shouted over the clamor ofhis two youngprodigies. “Thereis someoneherethat youboth should meet!”

  Both Riah and Arria quieted, but Arria still said, “We’ve met too many of your Shadow Bearer friends this week”

  Leviathan interruptedher icily, “But this oneis oneofthe seven, one you will be required to work with very soon. Though I don’t see why he would bother being associated with the two of you.”

  Riah made a face only Arria could see, knowing full well that Leviathan might just blaze with fury if he saw it for himself. Arria choked at the look Riah cast in her direction. Leviathan glared at the both of them. A moment passed before the Shadow Bearer motioned and a figure appeared.

  Riah scanned the figure, realization and recognition creeping into his mind. His jaw dropped simultaneously to the goblet of wine he was holding. He couldn’t believe it. He could feel the burning in his throat again. He could feel the poison squeezing his lungs and meddling into his veins. The poison this young man had dumped down his throat. And a flame ignited inside of Riah as he beheld an enemy he had vowed to make his victim among his first kills of the Spirit Followers.

  And now he could not. Not when Owen Edrun wore the mark of Leviathan's own hands on his neck.

  Forty-Four

  The firelight flickered over the parchment bound in a thin

  booklet. Cam peered closely at the words, for the letters both in the tongue she did not know and the one written in the Middle Continental common speech was written too tightly together. But as her eyes scanned the pages, she found that she had been told these words before. The books she had possessed concerning the Scarlet Spy had been legends, stories, folktales which had undoubtedly come from Mingroth and had found their way to the crevices of Caranthia and Nazeria. But this book…

  The parchment was worn and thin, the ink faded. Cam, seated comfortably on the sofa with a cup of tea beside her, leaned over to read the words more closely.

  “The Lord of the Sea Monsters is the Infernal Prince’s most trusted servant. He has been made as the most powerful Shadow Bearer and holds his home in the most northern regions of our world where he is Lord of the Sea Monsters. Thu,s he is called Leviathan. He is the master of marking and began the marking as an experiment when I was a newlywed, shortly before the First World was washed away. He is searching for me. I can feel it. He searches because I have been accidentally marked. Sometimes he speaks into my mind and asks where I am. I have never told him, but I fear he will find me soon. I must find someone else to protect the Crown of Caelae.” -SS

  Cam skimmed to the next paragraph past notes on translation and those of the scholar who had actually penned the words.

  “The Shadow Wings often aligned t hemselves with the Shadow Bearers. They rise to hover over the crashing waves at the height of a storm and beckon to sailors upon the shore. When the sailors do not heed to the beckoning, the beasts release shrill screams. These screams, along with the pull of the tide, drive the sailors mad, sending them into the tumultuous night sea. I saw them during the flood. I thought it was the cursed drink I had taken that caused me to hallucinate. But those dragons were one reason many lost their lives those thirty days.” -An excerpt from “Tales of Legendary Beasts of the North,” recorded by a young scholar of Mingroth, Dictated by the Scarlet Spy.

  Cam’s mind rang with the words, knowing she had heard them before. Stories her grandfather had uttered on nights spent in his study with bowls of nuts and berries before a dancing fire with her sisters surrounding her. She closed her eyes, seeing it again. Fiera sprawled across the rug half asleep. Terra knitting in a corner. Mista braiding her own hair and asking far too many questions. Adria listening attentively. And Cam, with her head in Adria’s lap, as she too drifted off to sleep.

  Back then, the stories hadn’t been exciting enough. Too many facts. Not enough interest. But now...now that she had encountered the subject of these entries, the words seemed tainted. A memory gone cold.

  Cam forced herself to open her eyes and read the next words.

  “The Prince of the Infernal Cities, also called the Master by his legions, has initiated two separate plans to cease the coming Savior from saving the human race. The first was to destroy the line of humans by mating with mortal women. The second was to hunt the sixteen prophets and learn all he could of the Savior’s arrival so thathe may stop it. This too has failed. And now, I fear, he is searching for the Crown of Caelae, for its prophecy he has discovered.” --SS

  The book fell limp in Cam’s lap. The Shadow Bearers, the sixteen Watchers, and the Savior...they were all real. And Ilea was real and believed the words she had written. “So this enemy must be real then,” Cam thought. “And if Lucius is real, then Elyon must be real because Lucius himself claims Elyon to be his enemy.”

  Cam closed the book and rose quickly, a new purpose in mind. She had to ask Ilea for herself, had to know more. “How does she know all of this? Why her and no one else?” But Cam knewthat Ilea wasn’t theonlyone. TheWatchers hadknown and had written as such. And the Spirit Followers of Mirabelle and of Nazeria. Cam wandered the halls in search of the woman, stopping now and then to peer into open rooms. But all the while, Cam knew that perhaps Ilea had returned to the cottages even while Cam had remained at the castle these past hours.

  A figure was walking towards her, a smile alighting on his face as he saw her. “Cam…” he started.

  Cam offered him a small smile. “Joel, I haven’t seen you since the meal last night, and we haven’t talked about...well, anything.”

  The young man huffed a sigh. “I know.” He tilted his head, his brows furrowing as he examined Cam. “Who are you looking for?”

  “Ilea,” she answered, knowing that she appeared distracted to him.

  Joel turned and pointed. “In the gallery.”

  “Thank you.” Joel only nodded before passing her.

  Ilea was indeed within the gallery, but it took Cam two full sweeps of the vast rows of mounted paintings before she saw the woman sitting with her feet tucked under her beneath the smallest painting of all.

  Cam approached her on quiet feet. The firelight of the gallery flickered across Ilea’s brown skin. Her dark eyes were wavering as they were fixated on the painting above her. Cam laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Ilea did not look at Cam. It was as if she already knew who she was and why she was here.

  “Shehadwhitehair when I sawher last. It was part of the curse.” Ilea’s voice was small and wavering. A memory threaded her tone. Finally, Cam lifted her eyes to view the painting at hand. Two figures: one taller and one shorter. The taller one with sharp eyes and bronze skin framed by long, wavy hair. Defined in muscle and stature with a crown of similar color to his skin. And the woman with russet hair and glittering green eyes. King Azariah
and Queen Hananiah.

  “Owen’s aunt…” Cam thought as she gazed at the queen. And then she peered closer, recognition sinking into her like a rock plummeting to a riverbed. Cam’s jaw dropped as she edged closer, her finger reaching to touch the painting. And then snatching them away. “She looks-”

  “Much like Silva, I know,” Ilea murmured. “That is why Hana was made the queen’s decoy when we were in Mingroth. The only difference then was that Hana’s hair was ash white. Because of the curse.”

  Cam stepped forward once more, now noting the differences between this woman and the dead queen of Mingroth. No doubt other lengths had been gone to make Hana look the part of a queen. “I don’t believe Hana ever used a decoy when she came to rule here,” Ilea said, her tone somber.

  “You cared for her,” Cam said, her voice choked. A chill ran over her skin at the sight of the two figures.

  “I cared for them both.” Cam finally cast her eyes to meet the glazed ones of Ilea. The woman gave her a sad smile before releasing a long, controlled breath. “But yes, Hana and I had become friends. More than allies, both broken and wanting nothing more but to be mended.

  Cam lowered herself to the floor and sat likewise to Ilea. “Who else?” Ilea turned, her eyes holding a knowing look. She did not need to ask. She knew what Cam meant. “Who else did you care for? What is it like losing people and knowing you have to live forever before you can see them again?”

  Ilea closed her eyes, her breathing this time somewhat shaky.“First werethetwins, theonlychildren Ieverbirthed. And it was when they were not even fully grown that I was forced to leave them. And where they have gone, where the winds of Elyon have led them, I cannot say. I only know that they are now ash in the ground, their souls drifting somewhere.” Children. Ilea had had children. “A boy and a girl. Sarai, princess and Erim, prince. Children of Elyon, I had named them.” Though her tone was weighted with the ache Cam knew must be blooming in her chest, Ilea’s eyes held a light. She was fondof this memory, then. “They were like pieces of the stars which had fallen into my very hands.” Ilea laughed, a sound somewhat choked.