by Rosie Scott
“No,” Cyrus agreed. He watched me carefully. “I liked Jakan and Anto a lot, Kai. I cared for them. But after seeing this happen hundreds of times over many wars, I take solace in the fact that their deaths were not painful, and they were quick. For all Jakan knew, his last thoughts were of fighting alongside his friends where he was happiest. And though Anto was alive long enough to see his lover die, it wasn't long before he followed him.”
My heart ached with sadness. I didn't pull my gaze away from Cyrus's as I asked, “Do you know how Anto died?”
Cyrus nodded. “We all do. He died protecting the Vhiri man he loved, and that's the story that will be told to the scribes who write Eteri's history. Anto will be remembered as a hero who died fighting for a country that wasn't his, Kai. I promise you that.”
My eyes welled with tears at those kind words. Given that all three of the Sentinels here appeared to be on the same page, I could tell they'd all agreed to such a story. They'd remembered Anto's concerns about being viewed as weak. Their offer meant the world to me.
“Thank you,” I finally managed, my voice thick with a variety of emotions. “For your offer, your support, your understanding. All of you. Thank you.”
“You're our ally and our friend,” Uriel replied, smiling warmly at me as I devolved into tears.
“Hell yes, she is,” Altan commented. He leaned forward, patting me on the forearm. “We're here for you, Kai. Problems, questions, insecurities, we've heard them all. I look up to you, and the fact that you've done nothing but our people and us with respect earns you my friendship and loyalty.”
“And Altan doesn't look up to anybody,” Cyrus jested softly, to which I chuckled through tears.
“Create a tsunami as badass as hers, and maybe you'll be next, water mage,” Altan retorted playfully.
We took a few more hours to rest before moving on, and the Sentinels did not rush me for a second despite our time concerns. Even Altan's impatience had been pushed to the side out of sympathy for my breakdown. When we finally stood up to keep moving, it was me who made the first move.
I doubted I would ever feel comfortable using an over-charged spell again. Already I knew that the tragedy of the Battle of Highland Pass had irrevocably changed me. Much like Bjorn's execution had fueled me into starting a rebellion, the deaths of Jakan and Anto forced me to be introspective of my own abilities.
I was the most powerful mage to ever exist. There could no longer be any doubt of that. But overwhelming power was both a blessing and a curse, and it refused to be contained. I would forever be motivated and fearless; that was just who I was. Yet, weathering such a tragedy instilled a deep-seated fear in my heart of ever repeating it.
I had lost friends in this war. I would probably lose more despite my best efforts to prevent it. But I had gained the friendship and support of many influential people along the way. Talking to the Sentinels had given me enough relief to move forward. Maybe Nyx hadn't agreed with my decision to repay Glacia for their massive attack, but she didn't have to. I'd stuck to my morals. I had wanted to avoid war with the Icilic. My issues had never been with them until their invasion. Unfortunately, their decision to jump into this war was forcing my hand.
I funneled my sadness over the casualties of the Battle of Highland Pass into motivation for our impending advance into Glacia. Everything I accomplished there would be dedicated to Jakan and Anto. The Icilic would soon learn they'd sided with the wrong god.
Thirty-six
5th of Dark Star, 422
We had left Mistral a year and a half ago with nine people, and now we returned with six. Altan had parted from us to stay in Makani to continue to repair the city from Narangar's attack, and Zephyr was still focused on cleaning up the battlefield. Her original mission to help with Esen's defense was no longer valid, so she'd sent a messenger to Mistral requesting orders.
Cyrus, Uriel, Cerin, Azazel, Maggie, and I all waited outside of the queen's throne room after requesting an audience. We didn't have to wait very long before the door opened and Kirek appeared behind it. My heart surged with hope at her presence here. The third Sentinel was newly scarred, a thick white puffy mark trailing down from the forehead over her left eye to her cheekbone. Her sharply structured bones had kept the blade from reaching and blinding her eye, but the scar itself confused me. Both Eteri's armies and Nahara's had access to healers and should have been able to prevent it.
“Kirek, how does Nahara fare?” I asked desperately as I stood.
The Sentinel did not change her expression. “We will speak of that later. For now, we need to discuss Eteri.”
The rest of us followed her through the throne room and before Queen Tilda. I hadn't seen the royal woman in so long, but I found I hadn't missed her. The queen's green eyes looked over us all, stopping on Maggie.
“Leave us, Magnilda.”
“She cannot,” I replied. “She belongs to the Seran Renegades, and our agreement still stands.”
The queen looked at me, her expression unchanged. “Why would a half-breed of a dwarf join a rebellion against Chairel?”
“I don't imagine it's any of your business,” Maggie spoke up. I merely raised my eyebrows in challenge as the queen refused to look back over to the engineer.
“Where are the others?” Tilda finally questioned. She threw a finger over the Renegades. “There were six of you.”
“Casualties of war,” I replied, my voice wavering.
“Ah.” The queen settled back on her throne. “So you are aware, then, that there are consequences for refusing to act.”
“I single-handedly killed thousands in the Battle of Highland Pass,” I said evenly. “I would not test me if I were you.”
Tilda's jaw tensed as she gritted her teeth. “My armies are shattered. Tal is destroyed. Makani is damaged. A Sentinel is dead. Esen is taken. You, my dear, are testing me.”
“Aleyah and her protectors are dead,” I retorted. “Narangar's harbor is destroyed. We were victorious against a much larger army in the Highland Pass. I have upheld my end of the bargain.”
“And what is it you wish to do now?” Queen Tilda questioned, tilting her head. “Twiddle your thumbs?”
“I'd like to destroy Glacia, actually.” I paused. “If it pleases you.”
The queen hesitated, before chuckling softly. “Something has changed you. You were so against the idea just a year ago.”
“That was before their attack. Before my friends were dead.”
Tilda's lips lifted on one side. “I see. Well, Bhaskar is still here in Mistral, and we have our men at your disposal. I will leave it to you and the Sentinels to figure out how you will pull this off. I know little of Glacia, and it has never been drawn on any map.”
“Is Cicero still in your possession?” I questioned.
“He is,” the queen replied. “And if you feel you can get your information from him, I will grant you access.”
“How many Sentinels will you send with us?” I asked.
“That depends on how many you will think you need. I will be sending Kirek and an army to retake Esen in a matter of days.”
“Zephyr is already near the Highland Pass,” I commented.
“Yes, but Zephyr is better for support and defense. Kirek is best when she is on the offense, and after all...” the queen glanced over at her favored Sentinel. “Esen is her home. You understand vengeance, Kai. It is an immensely helpful tool.”
“I'd like to point out something,” Azazel spoke up to my left.
Queen Tilda looked at him with mild amusement. “Yes?”
“Esen is on the coast closest to Glacia. If our plan succeeds in destroying the continent, the town will be taken by the water alone. If Kirek arrives there with her army, they will be in danger.”
The queen raised an eyebrow. She had never heard Azazel speak before, so perhaps she hadn't known he was as much of a strategist as I. “That is something to consider, Kirek.”
The third Sentinel nodded. “I c
an keep my army in the plains to the south. Defend Reva and the tunnels to Welkin and move forward to attack Esen if you send the order.”
Queen Tilda appeared to like that idea. “So it shall be.”
“Have you sent correspondence to our allies warning them of the repercussions of Glacia's destruction?” I questioned.
“I didn't, no. But Altan did, last he was in Mistral. He sent letters to Silvi and our own towns on the coast requesting they pull their people back from the ocean.”
“And Nahara?” I asked.
Kirek looked at me. “I knew of this plan when I arrived there last year. I warned them.”
“Thank you,” I said to her. She did not acknowledge my gratitude.
The queen exhaled heavily. “If you need to speak to Cicero, I'd suggest you do it now and together.” She waved a finger over Cyrus and Uriel. “But before you go, my Sentinels, I have a request for you both.”
Cyrus and Uriel both bowed politely.
“With Naolin dead, promotions are in order. Uriel, it should be no surprise to you that I'm granting you the title of the fifth Sentinel to take her place. In addition, I need suggestions from you both. I have sent a messenger requesting the same of Altan and Zephyr. I will be promoting two soldiers.”
“Two, my queen?” Cyrus asked. “We still have six.”
“Yes, but Bhaskar is only a Sentinel for one mission, and one mission only.” She nodded toward us. “He has expressed his fear that he will die in Glacia, so I am assuming he will. Even if he doesn't, he will be demoted from my army. He is bullheaded and will not fight unless it suits him.”
I noted that the queen's tone of voice hadn't changed when she spoke of her fallen Sentinel as if Naolin had never served her country at all. I wondered if the Sentinels in the room noticed this as well. After all, it could have been one of them.
We headed down to the dungeon to speak to Cicero next. When we approached the cell at the end of the hall, I halfway expected to hear the crazy god singing. Instead, all was quiet as we entered the cell.
Cicero was still in chains, but this time he was seated on a stone bench which jutted out from the cell wall. The god of chaos didn't look as sickly as when we'd met him. He wasn't muscular by any means because he'd been stuck in this cell for a long while. Even still, his body had filled out, and his blue veins weren't nearly as noticeable beneath his pale skin. As his golden eyes met my own, there was an intelligence in them I couldn't understand. He'd been so child-like over a year ago. It was the same man, but he seemed so different.
The god grinned at me as I walked in first. I took a seat across from him on another bench, and Cicero leaned toward me, his elbows on his thighs. “Kai Sera,” he greeted. “You're back.”
“Cicero,” I replied. “You're different.”
Cicero cackled joyously, his voice deeper than it had been, though it was still tinged with just enough insanity to keep it colorful. “You should have listened to me last time we saw each other, half-breed. I told you I needed chaos to keep me from going crazy. You promised me chaos. You have followed through. Now?” He pointed to his left temple, before twisting his finger into the pale skin of his head as the chains between his cuffs rattled. “I grow stronger.”
I was quiet. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
Cicero grinned after a moment, before laughing and stomping his feet over the floor in a burst of glee. “I'm so happy we met! We're going to have lots of fun together, you and I. Feeding off of each other's powers for the rest of our lives. You don't trust me. I can see that even without my powers. But you should.”
“Why's that?” I questioned.
“Because I don't want you harmed. I want you very much alive. As much fun as I have in my other form, I like being like this even more.” He snorted a laugh. “You'll be waging wars forever, Kai, giving me strength. I offer you my aid and support.”
I glanced over at the others, who all looked as perplexed as I felt. “Your powers may have been weaker than you think in your other form,” I finally replied. “I told you I'd wage wars forever, but that was a lie.”
Cicero nodded happily. “Yes, you thought it was. You lied to get me to give you what you wanted. But I'd taken every bit of knowledge from you when you touched me, half-breed. I know how you are. I know who you are. Perhaps even better than you do, because I have an outsider's perspective on your memories, fears, and self-reflection. You will be waging wars until the end of time, whether you admit that to yourself now or not. And, as I said, I offer you my aid.”
“Why? What does having strength mean for you if you are stuck in this dungeon?” I questioned.
“I'm stuck here now.” A deep humming sounded from his throat before it became a string of giggles.
“You have a lot of nerve suggesting we help you escape when our loyalties lie with the queen,” Cyrus spoke up behind me.
“Do I?” Cicero laughed so hard that he started to drool, before lifting up his arms to wipe the spittle away from his chin. “Do you not remember handling me to put me in this dungeon, Cyrus? Your loyalties do not lie with the queen.”
“Shut your mouth!” Cyrus stalked forward, grabbing the god's throat and shoving him back into the wall. My heart picked up its beat at this exchange of information. I wondered just what Cicero could know about the Sentinels that I did not.
The god only cackled against the pressure Cyrus put on his throat, though he raised his dual-colored eyebrows and shrugged playfully. “Maybe...” Two golden eyes moved to me, sparkling with humor. “...I was mistaken?”
“You were,” Cyrus insisted, jerking his hand away. He appeared shaken as he returned to his place behind me.
“Tell me your powers, Cicero,” I said, trying to bring him back to the subject.
“I take information and memories,” the god replied, shaking his head to force black and white tendrils of hair from his face. “But I can also give them.”
“We can all give information to one another,” I commented. “I don't see how that is a power.”
“You misunderstand me.” Cicero raised his eyebrows at the group behind me. “I could take what I want from any of you and give it to another. It is how I caused chaos for so long. There are so many secrets people don't want others to know. Sometimes?” He shrugged and devolved into a giggle fit. “Sometimes there's a reason for it!”
“What would you do if you were out?” I asked him.
“I don't know, really. Travel the world. Maybe follow you,” the god rambled.
“Why?”
“Because it's no fun gaining strength from chaos if I can't see it,” Cicero replied, grinning.
“You could simply take the memories of it from me,” I countered.
“Yes, but you didn't like when I did that the first time.”
“I'll offer my memories of the past few battles to you,” I offered. “The ones which gave you strength.”
Cicero's mouth tilted up in a half-smile. “And what would you ask in return?”
“Your memories of Glacia. To cause more chaos, of course.” I raised an eyebrow at him as he caught my meaning.
“Ah.” The god cackled joyously. “I'll tell you what, Kai Sera. I will offer you what I know first. I will take nothing from you until you can see I'm honest.” His white eyebrow lifted as if to ask me if I agreed.
“Okay.”
Cicero lifted both arms out toward me, the chain from his shackles between them. “Touch me. I will give you memories of Glacia.”
I stared into the golden eyes matching my own, searching for honesty. There was still an edge of insanity in them so I couldn't tell if I found it. I took a risk and reached out to grab his arm.
As soon as I touched his pale skin, it was like I'd been transported through time and space. As if I was the god himself, I could see all of Glacia. In the span of seconds, I traveled through the land as he had, learning it, understanding it, and becoming familiar with it. I saw cities made of ice and topped with snow. I
saw the Icilic people panicking as they surveyed their land and saw it was shrinking.
And then, all at once, I was back in the cell with Cicero, still holding on to his arm. He'd only given me what I'd wanted to know. His memories were patchy and spread across many decades, leaving out everything personal.
“Oh, I forgot one thing,” the god said with a smile. A mischievous glimmer was alight in his eyes. “Are you ready for it?”
“Yes.”
I was gone again, only this time it confused me because I was in the highlands of Eteri with a small army. I wasn't sure which highlands they were. They were not as rocky as the Pedr Crags or as high and grassy as the Cleves. A few slain creatures I'd never seen before were scattered over the patchy grasses. They had bodies similar to the jaguars I'd seen some beastmen transform into years earlier, but they were red roan instead of black. Their tails were simply spikes that stuck out like blades, and they were oozing what appeared to be poison from their tips into the grasses below. As the memory moved toward the creatures, I realized their faces were eerily human.
“I hope that's finally all of them.” I looked to find Uriel wiping the blade of his spear on the thick fur of one of the creatures, clearing it of blood. “I hate fighting manticores. It's like fighting lost souls.” The Sentinel reached out with a boot, kicking one of the creatures lightly in the head as if to emphasize its human face.
“Yes, well...” I trailed off. No, it wasn't me. I had to remember that. The voice was Cyrus's. I was in his memories. “Perhaps we can look at fighting them as a way of freeing them.”
Uriel tilted his head as if impressed by the suggestion. The healer turned to the small army. “Harvest what you wish. Give Cyrus and I a moment.” A few of the soldiers nodded. Uriel walked over, and the memory turned with him. The two Sentinels and friends walked off together, stopping to look beyond the highlands and through central Eteri.
“Have you received news?” Cyrus asked Uriel. The question was vague, but Uriel seemed to know exactly what it meant. The healer glanced back to ensure no one overheard his answer.
