by David Estes
The barbs flew over the arach’s eyes and landed on the crown of its head, piercing its thick, hairy skin. It jerked back in surprise, ripping Fire off the ground and sending Raven flying as she clutched the handle of her whip. As she soared through the air, she was dimly aware of her sister sliding off the spider’s bladed foot and diving to grab her sword, which immediately burst into flame.
Raven, however, quickly lost sight of her sister as she landed on the arach’s head. The creature bucked and writhed and tried to dislodge her, but she held on tight with one hand while using her other to grab a short sword she had strapped to the side of her leg. She raised it high, preparing to jam it as hard as she could into the arach’s brain…
Heat washed over her, pouring in from all sides, angry red, orange and yellow teeth, biting snapping, singeing her hair and burning through her leather armor.
“Ahh!” she cried out, releasing both her knife and whip and launching herself from the arach’s head. To the Calypsians in attendance, she must’ve looked like a flaming bird, soaring for a few quick moments before landing with a bone-jarring thump in the dirt. She was still on fire, so she rolled rapidly, patting at her hair with her palms.
“Uhhh,” she groaned, her cheek pressed to the dust, her eyelids fluttering. She blinked slowly, watching the arach writhe and squeal as it burned to death.
Her sister came into focus, smirking, walking toward her. Standing over her. Her entire body was wreathed in flames.
“Show off,” Raven mumbled.
“Do you submit, sister?”
Although she knew her sister loved her, she also knew that she would do whatever was necessary to win the empire. Which left Raven with two options: submit or die.
And she wasn’t ready to die. “Yes,” she whispered.
Fire raised her hands in victory and the crowd roared.
Later that same day, a war council was convened. Though the shiva was master of order in Calypso only, he attended at Fire’s request, for his advice and counsel. Several leaders of the guanero were also invited, as well as three dragon masters. And, of course, Raven and Whisper.
Fire sat on the dragon throne, which could reasonably be nicknamed the fire throne now, considering it was crackling with unnatural flames. Raven took a step back, the heat too much for her already burned skin.
Though her leather armor had mostly protected her, in several places—her left thigh, her abdomen, between her shoulder blades—the fire had eaten through and scorched her. Now, despite the cooling balm she’d rubbed on her skin, it felt like shards of glass were being shoved into her flesh. Her palms were badly burned too, wrapped in thick cloth to protect them from further injury. And, of course, her hair was gone. Though the flames had left a few of her lustrous dark locks, she’d chosen to have them shaved off so she could start fresh.
Whisper had cried. Fire had laughed. Raven had done nothing but grit her teeth, as she was doing now. It was partly due to the pain, and partly because she’d let her younger sister claim the empire for herself.
“What are our options against Phanes?” Fire asked the gathered council.
Raven spoke up first. “Be patient. Allow the dragon brood to mature and train. Then, when we are at our strongest, we will attack.”
One of the dragon masters, a woman everyone referred to simply as Rider, said, “The dragons require a year. At least.” Raven shot her an appreciative smile. She’d known Rider for years and considered her a key ally.
“Any other options?” Fire said, not even looking at her. “More worthy options.”
Raven clenched her jaw. She didn’t expect her sister to listen to her, but she had hoped she would at least discuss her ideas.
The guanero commander, a career warrior named Goggin, said, “We attack the Phanecians now, when they don’t expect it. With the empress’s unexpected passing”—a lump lodged itself in Raven’s throat—“Vin Hoza will believe he has time to grow his slave army. If we hit their capital city now, they won’t be ready.”
Raven shook her head, which was beginning to ache, either from this conversation or from her injuries. “A quick attack is impossible. We would have to build ships, gather supplies, and the dragons—”
“Forget about the dragons, sister,” Fire said. “The dragons will remain here to grow and train, as you suggested.”
Raven was unable to mask her surprise. “I—but—then our forces will have no chance against Faata’s slave army. Not without the dragons.”
Fire sighed in frustration. “First you don’t want to bring the dragons, and now you do. Which is it?”
“I don’t want you to go to war at all. Not yet.”
“We are going to war,” Fire said. There was no room for argument in her tone. “It’s just a matter of where and when.”
“Still, if you mean to cross the Burning Sea and march on Phanea, it will take time. Months, maybe years.”
“What if we don’t cross the Burning Sea?” Fire asked.
“What?” Raven said.
Goggin patted his barrel-shaped chest, frowning. “Are you proposing we cross the Scarra? The desert would take much out of our forces even before we forded the Spear. And then we would be forced to fight the Southron border cities—Sousa, Hemptown, Gem City—before entering the death trap of the Bloody Canyon. Even if we made it to Phanea, we would face an army of tens of thousands of slaves forced to fight—and die—for Emperor Hoza.”
At least the guanero leader is finally making sense, Raven thought. “I agree,” she said. “The Scarra is out of the question.”
“Nothing is out of the question,” Fire shot back. “And I wasn’t proposing we take that route. Just the Scarra.”
Raven pursed her lips, before asking, “So we cross the Scarra, and then what—raft down the Spear into the Burning Sea?”
“No, sister, we march northwest.”
“Northwest?” Raven was so confused she could barely decipher the meaning of the word. “But the only thing northwest is…” She raised her eyebrows, finally understanding what her sister was proposing. Perhaps what she’d been planning all along, since the moment she found their maata’s plague-covered body.
Fire grinned. “Ahh, so now you see? We shall attack the Southron Gates from the southern side.”
“To what purpose?” Goggin asked.
This time it was Raven who supplied the answer. “To weaken the Phanecian defenses against the western kingdom.”
Goggin scratched his head. “The west hasn’t attacked the south in many decades. Why would they now?”
Raven still remembered the stream they’d received from their spies in the west days earlier, when her mother was still empress. When Sun Sandes was still alive. “Rhea Loren has seized power in the west. It is said she cares more for dancing than ruling. And Lord Griswold has declared himself king of the north and is amassing forces at Blackstone. He will take the west, and then he will march south, toward the Southron Gates. If the Gates are destroyed, nothing will be able to stop him.”
“If we destroy the gates,” Fire continued, “the north will do battle with the slave army, instead of us.”
“And regardless of who wins, we will be in a strong position to claim whatever is left,” Raven said. She hated to admit it, but her sister’s plan was creative and bold.
It was the last thing their father would expect them to do.
“Prepare our armies for the desert,” Fire said, convening the council.
PART II
Jai Rhea Roan
Annise Grey Raven
The curse of war will spread, filling the land with darkness, as it must; for without dark, there can be no light.
The Western Oracle
Seventeen
The Southern Empire, Phanes
Jai Jiroux
By the time the thousands had entered the tunnel ahead of Jai, the sky was black, almost melting into the black rocks until he couldn’t tell one person from the next.
Jai paused a moment
, staring at the darkness that had just swallowed his entire world.
“C’mon,” a little voice said, and a small hand shot from the dark, grabbing his and pulling him forward. Jig had insisted on waiting with him until the end, but now the boy was anxious to press onward.
Holding the boy’s hand tightly, he slid his fingers along the rope. Voices echoed through the tunnel, seeming to take shape in the dark, bouncing off the walls and tumbling around his feet. Jig said, “Will the west be on the other side?”
Jai could almost believe it would be, though he knew the Southron Gates were still a great distance away, to the north, somewhere beyond the Bloody Canyons and the four border towns. “No, but we will be safe for a time.”
“How long will Emperor Hoza search for us?”
There was such childlike innocence in the boy’s question that Jai knew his heart would break if he told the truth—forever—so he changed the subject. “Can you see anything?”
“Not even the person in front of me,” Jig said with a laugh. The boy’s laughter buoyed Jai’s spirits. Growing up in Garadia, this boy learned to embrace the dark, rather than fear it. They all did. He would be fine. Perhaps they all would be.
As they walked, the scenery began to change. The black turned to gray turned to shadows of bodies, scuffling along single file. Rough rock walls appeared on each side, and, ahead of them, the outline of an opening.
And then they were free of the rocky throat, spilling out into an enormous area sheathed in green light, only the edges cloaked in shadow. Though the entire area was surrounded by cliffs, there was no roof, the one half-moon and its army of stars staring down, providing more than enough light to see by. The other moon had risen somewhere out of sight.
The sound of splashing reached Jai’s ears, and he discovered a line of people waiting to take their turn in a large natural pool nestled between several large boulders. Other groups had already formed circles, and were fast asleep. Still others were breaking bread and drinking from skins.
The scene was so utterly familiar they might have never left Garadia, but there was one stark, crucial difference.
Now they were free.
Though he was bone-weary, Jai’s mind was very much awake, racing with a mixture of fear and excitement for the future. He’d done what he set out to do, at long last, and he had formidable allies to help him.
Jig, Viola, and their mother were all asleep, their deep inhalations and exhalations falling into cadence with each other, like they were three parts of the same person.
Jai stood and slipped away, silently stepping between the hundreds of sleeping bodies sprawled throughout the canyon. He spotted Axa, sleeping, gripping his mirror with fisted hands. There was a circle of space all around him, as if he carried a contagious disease.
Perhaps he does, Jai thought. The disease of superiority.
Something drew Jai toward the center of the area, where he craned his head back and looked up at the vast night sky. A dark shape soared overhead, but he couldn’t tell whether it was a vulzure or some other less dangerous bird.
He scanned the cliffs, his gaze settling on a shadow.
The shadow moved. Someone was up there.
A slash of fear cut through him, but then he breathed. There was no way someone loyal to the emperor could have followed them this far. It had to be one of their own. The fierce warriors of the Black Tears were sleeping in a group near the water. Sonika’s dark hair was spread out around her head like a black veil of mourning. Jai counted their numbers and came up one short. Who?
Shanti, he realized. The Teran with an affinity for fireroot powder.
Jai traced a line from her shadow on the cliff to the ground, planning his climb. Then he started up. There were plenty of hand and footholds, and several ledges where he was able to stop and rest. However, by the time he reached the top, his arms ached and he was wondering whether he should’ve just stayed on the ground and tried to sleep.
Shanti said, “Look.” She didn’t turn around, the Teran continuing to gaze across the night-dark terrain, which was spread out like a three-dimensional canvas before them. Jai looked, his chest tightening because of the sheer wonder of the view. The rocks, which were as black as tar in the daylight, were sheathed in dueling moonlit armor, green and crimson forms that were as beautiful as the stars, as if echoes of their light. The stars were like flower buds opening in the sky—red, green, gold.
“It’s…” There was only one word for what he was seeing. “Perfection.”
Shanti’s head cocked to the side to look at him, a smile playing on her soft-looking pink lips. “Yes,” she said. “Like the world we live in.”
Jai couldn’t agree with that. “This world is a horrible place.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “The world is perfect. We’re the only ones who make it horrible. And yet there is beauty amongst us, too. Surely you can see it in your people?”
Yes, he could. Despite their scars and disfigurements, both emotional and physical, his people were beautiful. “I fear I risk too much by helping them escape. The road ahead will be hard.”
“Freedom is not always easy, but it is always right. But remember: You can’t command someone to be free.”
Jai considered her words, which, he had to admit, stung a little. What was she saying, that he was just another master? No, he thought, inwardly chiding himself for being so sensitive. She was merely saying that they had a long way to go before true freedom was achieved. Jai nodded his agreement. A sudden urge to tell her about his mother, his father, swelled inside him, but he breathed evenly until it melted away. He feared if he spoke of what he’d lost that he would crumble like brittle stone.
“All I want is to give them happiness,” he said instead.
Shanti touched his hand. Her fingertips were warm. “You have. I observed them today. They are happy—at least as happy as they can be given their circumstances.”
“But they’re not safe. Not by a longshot.”
“They will be.” She patted his hand, and Jai wondered if she was a touchy person by nature, or if the gesture was just for him. He found himself hoping it was the latter.
When he didn’t respond, she asked, “How did you learn the defense arts?”
“My father.” The two words slipped out so easily it was like they were resting on the tip of his tongue.
Shanti pointed up at the green moon goddess, Luahi, for which phen lu had been named. “It is said that a true master can summon the power of the night goddess.”
“Yes.” He pointed at the red sliver of the moon god that was still visible. “And they say masters of phen ru are powered by Ruahi. But I’ve never seen anyone do either.”
“Me either,” Shanti said.
A memory rose to the top of Jai’s mind. His mother, dancing phen sur, while he and his father watched. She was so graceful. Beautiful, like water sliding past smooth stones, like a bird soaring across the sky…
“I’ve seen someone harness Surai’s power while dancing,” he blurted out.
Shanti raised her coppery eyebrows. “Really? The sun goddess shined on a dancer? Who?”
My mother. “I didn’t know her name. A stranger.” The lie was bitter on his tongue, but he couldn’t open this door. Not now.
She looked away, her large blue eyes floating back toward the rocklands, and he took the opportunity to study her face, which was framed by her short hair. Once more, he counted her tears. Still seventeen. “When will you add your tears for the battle at Garadia?” he asked.
She licked her lips. “I have no tears to add tonight.” Absently, she withdrew her hand and touched it to her face, tracing her fingers along each black teardrop.
“I would’ve thought a fierce warrior such as yourself would’ve killed at least one of the mine masters.”
She chuckled. “I killed three, but that is not what the tears represent.”
Jai couldn’t hide his surprise. “But everyone says—”
�
��Everyone is wrong,” she said. “That’s just the rumor spread by the emperor to make his citizens fear us. If they represented those we’ve killed, all of our faces would be entirely covered in darkness.”
It took a moment for that information to sink in. She must’ve killed hundreds then. They all had. “Then what are the tears for? Why do some of you have more than others?” Why do you have so many?
“They are reminders,” she said. Her hand dropped to her side, closing over a small rock.
“Of what?”
“Of who,” she corrected. “They are memories of those we’ve lost. The ones we fight for. The reason we kill.”
Jai shivered, but not because of the cool breeze wafting over them.
Shanti threw the rock, and they both watched as it rose, arced, and then fell into oblivion.
Down below, a scream shattered the silence of night.
It took Jai longer than Shanti to descend from the cliffs to the ground, and when he arrived on the scene, all of the Black Tears were standing in a circle, blocking his view of a figure writhing on the hard, rock floor.
“Please,” he said, and they parted. Sonika’s eyes met his, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
And then he saw who it was: Axa, his face contorted in pain, several parts of his body bleeding, crimson streams running down his arms, his face, his chest.
The gemstones that had been sewn into his skin had been ripped out, leaving trails of broken flesh. No one moved to help him. “Who did this?” Jai asked.
A form stepped forward, his palms open, glittering with rubies and emeralds and diamonds. Blood dripped between his fingers. “They weren’t his,” Joaquin said, his black eyes unblinking.
Eighteen
The Western Kingdom, Knight’s End
Rhea Loren
The man walked using a gnarled tree branch as a cane, though Rhea suspected it was all part of his act—she detected no limp in his stride.
