Cry of Metal & Bone

by L. Penelope

  Tai’s mother’s punishment had waylaid him for two long years, but he was now able to keep his promise and give the death stone to the Goddess Herself, now that She’d awoken.

  He finished his story and looked over to see that the man in the cell had not stirred. The Goddess Awoken peered at the prisoner with some unfathomable emotion in her eyes. Tai wished he knew what it was.

  “Show it to me,” She said.

  He jumped to his feet, freed the stone from the pouch around his neck, and held it out to Her.

  “I cannot touch it.” She kept her distance but peered at it fiercely.

  Though Tai, Mik, and Ani had been able to touch the death stone with no ill effect, Dansig had been beset by horrible visions when he’d held it. Perhaps it had to do with Earthsong magic.

  “What does it do?” Tai asked. “Why was it so important to retrieve this bit of rock?”

  The Goddess clasped Her hands before Her and looked off down the corridor. Her bearing and manner had not changed, and Tai couldn’t get a read on Her. “They live still. The mage did not kill Dansig and his sons.”

  Tai gasped and nearly dropped the stone. “You’re certain?” Ani had been convinced that the three had somehow lived, but he’d thought it wishful thinking.

  “Would you like to help save them?” She tilted Her head and slayed him with another penetrating gaze.

  “Of course. Where are they? How did they survive? I-I saw them…” He could still feel the heat of the blast in his face. It was he who had bandaged what remained of Ani’s arm after the explosion had taken her hand. And though the damage to his ship had been minimal and the detonation oddly contained, he didn’t understand how anyone could have survived being in the midst of it.

  “This task would put you at odds with your king, would it not?”

  He sighed heavily. “I am already at odds with her. I will face whatever punishment awaits in order to free them.” He owed them that much. They had been on his ship, under his protection when they had been attacked. In a short time, they had become friends, and Ani’s connection to Roshon made them family, as well. If the young man had not disappeared, he and Ani would be nearly wed by now.

  The Goddess smiled slightly, but the action only made Her appear sorrowful.

  “Jasminda does not know her family lives, and I would like to keep it that way until they are retrieved successfully.”

  “Jasminda? Dansig’s daughter? He spoke of her often—they all did.” His mind caught up as the pieces fell together. “She is the same Jasminda that is the new queen?”

  This was good news. Dansig had often worried as to the fate of his only daughter, left behind when the Sister kidnapped him and his sons. There had not been time to get word to her after their trouble on the docks, and the man’s greatest wish was to complete the mission and return to her. She had only been seventeen then and alone in the world.

  “Y-Your Majesty … why not tell her? I’m certain she would be greatly relieved to know—”

  “She will learn when the time is right. For now, she has many other concerns to occupy her mind.” Her tone brooked no opposition, and Tai clamped down his argument.

  “But why me?” he asked. “Surely there are others you could send.”

  Her forehead creased slightly, and She tilted Her head to the side, almost looking through him as though She were seeing something else. “I believe having a Raunian along will be useful to them.”

  Then She blinked and Her eyes refocused on him. Her words made little sense. Raunians had no magic, unlike the Lagrimari or the Physick mages. True, Tai was resourceful and could think on his feet, but that didn’t seem like such a rare talent. Though She wasn’t his goddess, it was clear that She had a wealth of knowledge at Her fingertips. He would have to trust in that and not second-guess this chance to make things right.

  “You will receive further instructions shortly,” She said mysteriously.

  Zeli reappeared bearing an ornately carved wooden box. She motioned to the stone still in Tai’s outstretched hand. He recalled just then that the Goddess had never told him what the stone did, what the true purpose was of the object that had caused so much heartache, death, and destruction. He gently placed the mysterious bit of rock in the box, careful not to touch Zeli in the process. She slammed the box closed, the sound echoing against the ancient walls of the dungeon.

  Zeli motioned for him to follow her. Grateful to leave the oppressive atmosphere, he trailed her, looking back only once to see the Goddess still standing before the cell of the mysterious prisoner, Her hand gripping the door handle.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “A compliment, charity, a helping hand—all freely given, but expecting reward,” Ysari the Artist said, trying to come to Ayal’s aid.

  But the Entertainer was not satisfied, none were the answers he sought. “You must come to the solution on your own,” he advised the seeker, “lest you be led astray by the kindness of others. For our greatest battles are always fought alone.”

  —THE AYALYA

  Lizvette clenched her hands at her sides as she walked through the halls of the palace surrounded by four Royal Guardsmen. It was a bit much, she thought. She wasn’t a hardened criminal.

  Their footsteps disappeared in the plush carpeting, and her nerves grew with each step. She had not seen Jack since the day he’d stormed into her apartments waving a letter written in her own hand that had put the woman he loved—and their new queen—in danger.

  Her father’s words echoed in her head, telling her that she could still be the princess. As if she had been the one who wanted to be princess in the first place. That had always been Father’s dream—and Mother’s. Yes, she had gone along with it, but not because she’d had any desire for power or prestige. She did what her parents told her to, an obedient, proper daughter. And look where it had gotten her.

  The guards led her to the royal receiving room. Alariq had preferred using this chamber for official business, as opposed to the ornate throne room. She had never seen Jack using it; he favored his office in the adjoining wing of the palace. But many things had likely changed in the weeks during which Lizvette had been on house arrest.

  She took a deep breath as the Guardsman before her rapped on the door. Lizvette heard nothing, but apparently the guard had, for he opened the door and ushered her in.

  She brightened her expression, affecting a demure smile for Jack—one that froze in place when she came face-to-face with Queen Jasminda.

  A scowl marred the queen’s beautiful visage. Her dark eyes sparked, and Lizvette fought the urge to take a step back, to run out into the hall and flee the woman’s obvious rage.

  Instead Lizvette fell into a curtsey, as deep as she could manage, and stayed there.

  Jasminda’s steps sounded on the marble floor. “Get up, for Sovereign’s sake.”

  Lizvette rose, keeping her head down and staring at Jasminda’s shoes—heavy-soled boots that were at odds with her ruched silk dress adorned with hand-sewn beading. An exquisite piece that the new queen seemed uncomfortable in.

  Jasminda paced back and forth for a few moments, and the quiet in the room, except for her footsteps, set Lizvette’s perfectly coiffed hair on end.

  “This isn’t the first message you’ve sent to him.” Jasminda’s voice was hard and cold.

  Lizvette looked up, startled.

  “And I believe I clearly stated that I didn’t want you to have any communication with him, didn’t I?”

  Lizvette dropped her head again in deference. At the beginning of her arrest, she had sent letters to Jack, filled with her apologies. She’d received nothing back for the first week until a very short missive appeared, telling her to stop in block letters.

  “Your Majesty,” she began, then paused when Jasminda stopped pacing directly in front of her. Lizvette chanced a glance at the queen’s face before dropping her eyes again. Still angry. She cleared her throat. “Your Majesty, I…”

  “Spit it out, Lizve
tte. What do you want?”

  “M-my father sent me a message. I thought that you both should know.”

  “Ah, but your letter wasn’t addressed to both of us. It was addressed only to King Jaqros, was it not?”

  “I did not think you would appreciate a message from me, Your Majesty.”

  “And why did you not forward on this message from your father?” the queen asked before stalking away.

  “It destroyed itself.” Jasminda stopped, and Lizvette looked up. “It was an amalgam.” The queen’s frown indicated she wasn’t familiar with the mech. “A little mechanical bird that spoke with my father’s voice. Such things are common in Yaly. They have many creations there made by mages known as Physicks.”

  “Why have I never seen one?”

  “The Elsiran people hate magic, as I’m sure you’ve experienced. They’re also highly suspicious of any foreign technology. Amalgams are a mix of both, and there are laws forbidding them in Elsira.”

  Lizvette’s gaze followed Jasminda as the queen strode over to the window. “Alariq thought it was ridiculous,” she piped up, feeling a little braver and excited to be useful, educating the queen on something. “He wanted Elsira to open its borders and be more accepting of innovations, but the Council did not approve.”

  Jasminda stood in profile, tapping her fingers on the window ledge. A wave of sadness swept over Lizvette. She had stood here many times with Alariq, talking over his ideas and plans for the nation. Though theirs hadn’t been a love match, they had been great friends. With him, she’d had a purpose. A bright future of service to her people had stretched out before her. Now she spent her days idle, trying to keep her mother’s spirits up, as well as her own.

  “And what did your father say in this amalgam message?” The queen’s tone was less angry now, more resigned.

  “He warned my mother and me to stay away from the temples today.”

  Jasminda whipped her head around so fast, her neck cracked. Her eyes bored holes into Lizvette, who was so entranced she couldn’t even drop her head.

  “It arrived before the bombing?”

  “No, afterward. But I believe it was delayed and intended to be delivered beforehand.”

  The queen looked off to the side. “Nirall knew about the attack before it happened?” she murmured, almost to herself.

  Lizvette nodded sadly. Jasminda shook her head as her fingers worried themselves picking at her nails.

  Courage spurred Lizvette forward. “Your Majesty, I-I think I can find him. The newspapers say that the Intelligence Service has had no luck sussing out his location. If he’s in Yaly, I believe that I can draw him out and perhaps help bring him to justice.”

  Jasminda’s expression did not change. A tick in her jaw was her only movement.

  “And what would you want in exchange for bringing in your father?”

  “I only want to prove my loyalty to Elsira. My patriotism. I’m not a traitor, Your Majesty.”

  Jasminda’s brows shot up, and Lizvette ducked her head.

  “I have never had the opportunity to apologize to you in person, but I am deeply sorry for my actions and the harm they caused you,” Lizvette said. “My greatest wish would be to go back in time and never have taken you from the safety of the dungeons and sent you back to Lagrimar with the refugees. My only defense is that I was led to believe—” She blinked against the stinging in her eyes. “I believed I was doing what was best for my country. Which I love.”

  Jasminda stepped toward her and reached out to draw Lizvette’s chin up so that their eyes met. Her touch was gentle but firm. “And Jack?”

  Lizvette gulped. “E-excuse me?”

  “Did you do it for Jack? Are your feelings for him what they once were?” A crack in Jasminda’s rigid mask revealed the briefest glimpse of vulnerability.

  Lizvette’s heart fluttered. Admitting her feelings for Jack now would do nothing to help her cause. Besides, the queen certainly had nothing to worry about in that regard. Jack was relentlessly in love with her. “I-I did it for my people. I can prove that I am loyal, that I don’t deserve a lifetime of exile.”

  Jasminda stepped back, releasing her. “And how do you plan to bring your father to justice?”

  Exhaling heavily in relief, Lizvette considered. “He trusts me. At least I think he does. He knows I’ve been arrested, and he did send that warning message. He could only have obtained the amalgam messenger in Yaly or Fremia, but it stands to reason that he would be in Yaly as it’s a far larger place to hide and he has developed many connections there over the years. I suspect his good friend Rodriq Verdeel may be helping him.”

  “The ambassador to Yaly?” Jasminda asked, her expression skeptical.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “He’s been questioned extensively and claims to know nothing of Nirall’s location.” She crossed her arms but appeared to be considering Lizvette’s theory.

  “He could be protecting Father. I’ve known Uncle Rodriq my entire life. I believe if I can convince him that I’m loyal to my father, he will help me find him.”

  The queen’s eyes narrowed. “And how do I know that you’re not really loyal to him? That this isn’t just a plot to escape your punishment?”

  That stopped Lizvette cold. Her mouth opened and closed. How could she get the queen to trust her now? She’d befriended Jasminda when she was new to Rosira and stuck out sorely among the aristocracy of the palace. But it had been a means to an end. Blast Father for sowing the seeds of treachery in her mind. If she were as strong as Jasminda, she would never have been so easily led astray.

  She shook her head. “I do not know what I could say to make you trust me, Your Majesty, when you have every reason not to. Only this: search my heart. You have that power, don’t you? I’ve heard that Earthsingers can tell when someone is lying and can see the intentions in one’s heart. If you feel that I am lying, so be it. But I swear to you on my life that I am telling the truth.”

  She steeled herself, grasping for the hardened shell she used to protect against the pain of her parents’ constant disapproval. Unwilling to display the weakness her father always decried her for, she would be as strong as Jasminda had been when the new queen had saved their land and helped awaken the Goddess.

  “I will consider your request,” Jasminda said regally, then turned away, effectively dismissing Lizvette.

  Lizvette curtsied anyway, though it was to the queen’s back, and returned to her contingent of guards who led her to her rooms, praying the whole while that the queen believed her and could one day find it in her heart to forgive.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Best sleep on it,” Keyes the Dreamer counseled. “Untangling the snarls of our consciousness is best done in slumber, when the veil between worlds is thin. There we can flow with the stream and not battle the currents of our minds.”

  —THE AYALYA

  Every silence had its own unique signature, and the one surrounding Kyara now made the hair on the back of her arms stand up. She stood in the dark, her hands and feet free of their shackles, yet she felt caged all the same. Turning around in a circle, she noted the strangeness of her surroundings. She could see herself clearly, but endless black stretched out beyond. No light source was visible, and the silence was a shroud.

  Then the whispers began. First one voice, then many, speaking in another language. Though she couldn’t make out the exact words, she recognized the tongue of the Cavefolk. Those grotesque, ancient creatures that lived underground waiting, they’d claimed, for her.

  The warning they’d given her lingered, coming to mind often during the long quiet stretches she spent trapped in her cell. It was they who had told her of the death stone and that it somehow had a part to play in the war to come between the three worlds—the Living World, the World Between, and the World After. According to them, Kyara and her ability to manipulate Nethersong would be needed. But if the Physicks kept up their ministrations, she might not have any Song left. There mig
ht not be anything left of her at all.

  The whispering voices went on and on, muffled as they muttered something she couldn’t comprehend. She thought of Murmur and the other Cavefolk, with their repulsive translucent skin and colorless eyes.

  The whispers quieted when a woman’s voice rang out. “They were not always so hideous.”

  “Who’s there?” Kyara asked, turning, trying to locate the speaker in the persistent gloom.

  “Once they looked as normal men do. Quite pale, to be certain, but perfectly ordinary.” A figure separated itself from the darkness, cloaked in the very gloom itself. Kyara’s eyes skimmed over the suggestion of a woman’s form, but nothing was clearly visible. “You should not judge them so harshly,” the stranger said. “They are friends.”

  The woman’s voice was like music lingering in the air after the last note is played. A hushed but resonant sound laden with sadness as if misery were etched into every fiber of her being.

  “I don’t know about that,” Kyara said. While the Cavefolk hadn’t been hostile to her, they had nearly killed Darvyn. She wasn’t inclined to trust them. “Who are you? Where are we?”

  The sad woman’s head tilted to the side as if she were listening for something. In the silence that stretched between them, the whispering began again. The woman convulsed, shudders racking her body. “They’re coming.”

  A roar arose, like the wind scourging the countryside, and more figures began to emerge out of the darkness. The first was a little girl of eleven or twelve, a ragged dress clinging to her thin frame.

  Kyara gasped. “Ahlini?” Her childhood friend had died ten years earlier. The incident had begun the long, strange journey of Kyara’s life, leading her to a bleak existence in service to the True Father.

  Ahlini stared vacantly at Kyara. The whites of her eyes were fully black, the way they’d turned when she died. “How could you, Kyara?” Ahlini cried. “I thought we were friends.”

  “We were!” Kyara said, her eyes stinging with burgeoning tears.