Dream of Darkness and Dominion

by Hilary Thompson

  The hall filled quickly. Billowing gowns and sleek dress coats shone in the soft candlelight, every color of the land brightening the stark black and cream floors.

  Coren spotted the other Generals making their way toward her. At least a dozen Commanders were seated in the crowd as well, their silver-buttoned coats the dull burgundy of Riata’s uniforms. The color of the dried blood of their enemies, she’d heard once.

  Once all the audience was seated, all four Generals stepped to the edge of the dais.

  Dain spoke first. “Welcome, court and Commanders of Riata. What you’ve heard is true - our King and Queen have not returned from their mission to Sulit. Instead, Corentine Ashaden has arrived to take their place. She is a true heir of Riata, as proved this morning by Lord Gernant’s tests.”

  He had to pause here as the crowd swelled with whispers and murmurings. He glanced back to Coren as General Cusslen waved for decorum.

  “Silence, please. I have my Brujok looking into the claims. Until we have more information, or a decision is made, you will all respect the right of the military,” Cusslen warned.

  The female General nodded to Cusslen and continued, “Before you on the tables, you will find blank cards. Write your questions there, and give them to the servers. Lady Ashaden will answer many of them tonight, and more tomorrow at afternoon tea, if needed. This will be civil.”

  Coren startled at the title, and it reminded her that this wasn’t all pretend. She really was an heir to Riata, and her right to the chair she sat in was supported by their own laws.

  She wanted this to be peaceful, but her patience was already wearing thin as discussion filled the room, along with shouts for servers to collect papers. The four Generals rounded the table and sat in practiced unison, Dain on her right, then Cusslen, and the woman on her left, next to the quiet one.

  Coren realized these were probably their normal seats, and she marveled again that Dain sat at Mara’s right hand even over someone like Cusslen.

  “Begin with your story,” someone called over the din. “We all want to know who you really are and how you defeated the King.”

  Coren couldn’t pinpoint the man who had voiced this request, but she noted the lack of anger in his tone. She hoped there were many here who were content to see Graeme fall.

  She glanced to Dain for advice, and he nodded. “Tell them what you want, but be careful. Every detail is an arrow for someone’s quiver.”

  Considering this, she moved around the table to the edge of the dais.

  The crowd quieted to an eerie stillness as Coren debated how to begin. She clasped her hands before her to avoid clutching her plain skirt. Though she would have been more comfortable in hunting clothes, she wondered if maybe she should have requested a corseted gown like the women before her. Resh would have made sure she was dressed better than any of them as a show of power.

  But there was no fixing that now. She took a deep breath.

  “Until this summer, my life was small. I lived on Weshen Isle and cared for my family. I knew nothing of magic or my ties to Graeme. Only that the Restless King of Riata had once torn apart my people and forced us into hiding behind the NeverCross Mountains. I dreamed of change, but like most Weshen, I’d given up hope it would happen in my lifetime. I was very wrong. Our leader was also wrong, and it cost us everything. When he discovered my shifter magic, he banished me along with his own son, Syashin, who is also a shifter. We were supposed to die on the MagiSea. Instead, we made a desperate plan to save our people. Our gods heard us, and we survived and traveled in search of Zorander Graeme.”

  “But what magic do you have?” another person called, impatience lacing his voice. Coren glared at the interruption. She glanced behind her, but all the Generals were silent, listening as well.

  So, she decided to stop acting like a student being drilled by a board of teachers. She was in control, not the court.

  Coren squared her shoulders. “I will show my magic another time. You will refrain from interruptions and use the cards to ask questions. It’s only through this method that we can all make sense of what has happened,” she added, hoping to soften the order.

  There were a few grumbles, but the crowd quieted.

  “Along the way, I met Syashin’s teacher, who showed me the possibilities of Weshen magic. Things that had been forgotten or silenced since our Separation from Riata and the Sacrifice of our magic. When we arrived here, we escaped the palace Brujok, then defeated more in Rurok. There, we met Queen Mara, who had led us into a trap. She knew of my bloodline, but Graeme did not. We learned the secret at nearly the same time, and for me, it spared his life.”

  She paused and eyed the crystal glass of water at her place. Her throat was already growing hoarse from speaking her story so loudly to the hall. She beckoned to the taster, and Dain moved to help.

  While the water was tested, she listened carefully to the tone of the murmuring crowd. She guessed that overall, they were wondering why she hadn’t killed Graeme. Coren hoped this would gain her some respect - even if they’d hated Graeme, she wanted to show she wasn’t a power-hungry usurper or even an enemy of Riata anymore.

  She was a person, trying to figure out the right path to peace.

  After draining the glass, Coren cleared her throat. “Despite what Graeme had done to my people and my own family, I wanted time to know him better. Syashin, however, was bent on retribution. He is First Son to the General who was slain by Graeme’s own hand. He killed your king, and I don’t blame him. As a Weshen, I sleep better knowing the tormentor of my people is dead.”

  She stopped short of explaining the curse. Dain had been surprised to learn it was transferable; perhaps the court didn’t even know it existed. She studied their faces carefully before continuing.

  “Queen Mara fled when I injured Lord Aram. But do not make the mistake of feeling sorry for her. If you haven’t seen it for yourself, believe me that the King was often a puppet for Queen Mara. She is the main source of evil in Riata.”

  This statement was a test to see who would be against her, and although her stomach turned over, she was pleased when a few people shouted resistance. One elderly Lord in a black cloak stalked from the room, banging the tall door after himself. A pair of Ladies hesitated a few seconds before scurrying after him.

  Coren was not glad that Mara had sympathizers, but she was grateful to know it now rather than later.

  Looking toward the doors, she noticed servants were lined up, balancing silver platters heavy with food.

  “I will break my story here and allow you to eat and finish writing your questions!” she shouted over the noise, grateful for the time to gather her thoughts.

  Stepping behind the table, she sank into the throne as servants brought food to the dais and then dispersed into the hall.

  Looking down at the array of strange food, she was glad she’d eaten stew before.

  A servant stepped onto the dais, delivering a silver tray piled with what already looked like a hundred questions. He bowed low and scurried away.

  Coren groaned as she rifled through the cards. “I hope many of these are the same.”

  Dain chuckled. “I suspect they will be. We can call the servant back to sort them if you wish.”

  Coren shook her head. Queen or not, she would never want her whole life to revolve around asking others to do her bidding. She picked up a few cards and read them aloud. “What are your plans for Riata if you become Queen? What is the state of Weshen now? What are your plans for choosing a Riatan husband?”

  She made an ugly noise and tossed the cards aside. Her head had begun to ache, and Coren wondered how few of these questions she could answer before excusing herself for the night.

  “They need to be answered,” Dain said, his voice quiet. “And soon, for they will only increase once your friends arrive.”

  Coren nodded, knowing he was right. Pushing her plate to the side, she began to sort the cards into piles of similar questions.

 
; NIK DID NOT HAVE TO wait long for Amden to gather enough women to fill a boat. The group of volunteers gathered early on the beaches two mornings later, adding supplies to one of the boats

  “How many wish to go?” Matron Behrenna had also approached the boat and was leaning over, inspecting it.

  “Six of us. We hoped Nik would come as well,” a short, hard-eyed girl answered. “I’m Kellen,” she said to Nik.

  “What are your plans?” Nik asked to stall his inevitable answer. Despite his promise to Amden, he was not ready to return to Weshen City.

  Not yet.

  Maybe not ever.

  “We want to bury our dead,” Lorenya said, slipping up behind him and hugging his shoulders to hers. “And see what can be done to rebuild the city.”

  Nik looked at Behrenna. “It isn’t safe. The mountain passage-”

  Behrenna raised a hand. “In the name of safety, women have stayed obediently on this island for nearly three generations, and it has brought our people nothing but more trouble. If some of my people wish to try a new path, I will not stand in their way for fear.”

  She didn’t mention Ashemon, but Nik knew both Sy and Resh had criticized their father for being too cautious. Too fearful of what he couldn’t control or predict.

  Nik sighed, giving in. “I will travel with you to the city, but I would prefer to only stay a few days. I came to the island to help with your magic but also to heal myself. I can do both of those better here.”

  Amden and the others nodded. “We can all fit in this boat, and when you want to return, you can take another of the men’s boats, right?”

  “Yes,” Nik agreed. “I’d like to teach everyone how to make the lemondrine drink first. And I want to bring plenty with us, so we can replenish our magic more quickly than by resting. I don’t want to stay long in Weshen City,” he repeated.

  He spent the remainder of the day showing the women the process of making the special Sulit drink. It was only a few steps, but it took many hours to brew.

  Nik made space for several large jugs of the potion into the bottom of Amden’s boat. He didn’t want to waste time in the city making more, and he knew his power would deplete quickly if he were shifting earth to make graves.

  At sunrise the following morning, many of the women gathered to see them off. Lorenya had decided to go with him, trusting her young children to the care of a friend. They clung to her, tearful and frightened.

  Nik knew the only time they’d likely seen a woman in a boat would have been Coren’s banishment.

  “Shh,” she soothed them. “Mama will be back in five days. Double-kiss promise,” she added, kissing both cheeks of each child to seal her bargain.

  That was the deal she and Nik had made. Both wanted to help, but neither wanted to stay in the city or continue farther into Riata.

  She was the only departing woman with children, though the others embraced sisters, cousins, and friends.

  Nik turned to Behrenna. “If I’m not back here in a week’s time, please stay on the island and fortify yourselves. Any delay like that might mean the city is too dangerous, and you should keep your people here in safety. If the King’s men return, they will know from where we sailed.”

  Behrenna pursed her lips. “I trust you to care for them, and I trust them to care for you. You are a true blessing to our people, Nikesh.”

  He felt his cheeks flush at the unexpected praise, but he managed to nod. Everyone climbed into the boat and took up the oars they had fashioned late last night. A few women helped push them free of the sandy beach, and Nik gulped the salty air as he found himself again adrift on the MagiSea.

  He sat sideways on a tiny ledge in the bow, and the six women faced forward, paired on three benches. With the supplies, it was much more crowded than comfortable, but they had no other boats.

  Amden and Kellen were on the first bench, Lorenya shared the second with a young girl named Menaya, and the last bench held twin women whose boy children had been taken to the city several years before.

  Nik’s heart ached for all of them as he watched their faces, so similar in features and expressions. What fresh pain awaited them in the streets of Weshen City? He dreaded their reactions as much as his own memories.

  With six people rowing and Nik coaxing the currents to speed their progress, the boat fairly flew across the crystalline blue water. The women spoke little, and Nik was glad for it. He guessed they were nervous, and he didn’t have much energy to spare in reassuring them.

  The sun was sloping lower in the sky, but there were still several hours of daylight left when Amden first spotted the massive stone structure of the General’s mansion, perched high on the cliffs above the sea.

  “That’s where the General lived. We’ll head there first,” Nik murmured. “We need to guide the boat to the docks at its base, then climb the stone steps up that hill.”

  Everyone stayed quiet as they approached the cliffs barricading most of the city from this part of the shore. The only way in was the gated stairs, which would have once been guarded against intrusion, but now swung open in the gentle breeze, the simple motion a symbol of loss.

  “I smell the bodies,” Menaya said, her voice shaking.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything for them,” Nik whispered. “There was no way I could bear that on my own.”

  “We would not have come if we couldn’t handle it,” Amden replied, glaring at the younger girl and steeling herself against the crunch of the boat against the wooden dock. Nik reached to tie them up and jumped onto the dock.

  He held a hand down to Amden, and she accepted it, then turned and offered help to the next woman climbing from the boat. Nik admired how they worked together to unload the boat, each taking their part in movements that seemed almost choreographed.

  “Will there be rooms at the General’s mansion for us to stay in?” Lorenya asked, her voice low to match the silent city.

  Nik nodded. “There are plenty of rooms. There’s likely still food as well unless animals or other intruders have come.” He saw them tense at the mention of intruders, but they needed to be constantly aware of that possibility. He said, “I don’t sense anyone now. But without the magic blocking the passage, anyone could wander into the city.”

  Single file, they climbed the dozens of stone steps carved from the hillside until they reached the back of the mansion. Nik took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. The stench of decay was even greater here, overpowering the salt of the sea below.

  Amden turned to the group, taking charge immediately. “Let’s canvas the mansion first to be certain there aren’t intruders there. We can barricade the open doors and find rooms and see what’s left of any supplies before venturing into the city. I think we should begin the burying tomorrow, once we’ve rested and made a plan.” Everyone murmured their agreement, and Lorenya’s glance to Nik affirmed that none of them were eager to deal with the bodies.

  Although he often disliked Amden’s brusqueness, he was thankful that someone else had taken charge. He dreaded the days and tasks ahead of them.

  Once they made their way inside, the women scattered, each exploring on her own or in pairs.

  Everywhere, everything was unnaturally silent.

  Lorenya stuck close to Nik’s side, and they climbed the stairs to the floor where Sy’s room waited. Pushing open the door, Nik closed his eyes against the prick of tears. He could just barely catch Sy’s scent, and it wrapped his heart, both a relief and a reminder of what he’d lost here.

  The balcony door stood open to the horror below, and Nik remembered how he’d sat there in peace so many nights ago and sent a message to his friend in Sulit. He still had no idea if it had ever reached her, or what had happened to Sy once he left Weshen City.

  He’d had no word from either, and not knowing was torture.

  Would it be possible to send a message to Sy without knowing where to send it? His knowledge of Sulit spells was extensive, but they all needed at least an approx
imate destination.

  “If they’re still at Rurok, I can send a message,” he said to Lorenya. “Should I try?”

  “Could it be tracked back here?”

  “Possibly,” he admitted, realizing this answered his question. He closed the balcony door and backed onto the bed.

  “Then I don’t think so. We need this place to stay as safe as possible while we rebuild.”

  Nik knew she was right, but he ached to know if Sy was well. This uncertainty resting in his mind was like a seed, grown into a stalk and now spooling dark vines into the innermost rooms of his mind, where he’d locked all the dark thoughts of Rurok, and his twisted, torturous time there.

  Chapter 8

  COREN WAS EXHAUSTED. She’d answered questions late into the evening, even from the Generals after many of the court had left. All she wanted now was sleep.

  Certainly, Sy and Resh and her brother would arrive in the morning, and she wouldn’t feel quite so dependent on Dain to watch for every danger.

  She wasn’t sure if she really trusted him, or if she was making the best of her options. It was a far cry from the days and weeks it took her to believe Sy’s and Resh’s motivations were honest. Perhaps the difference was that she and Dain wanted the same thing for Riata. All she’d wanted from Sy and Resh in the beginning was to be left alone.

  Dain was already settling the room like one of the servants, turning down the blanket and banking the fire against a creeping night chill.

  Coren flushed and hurried to help him. “I’ve done things for myself my whole life. But thank you,” she added. Using manners wouldn’t hurt her pride. She pulled the heavy curtains over the narrow window, taking a final glance at the black woods beyond.

  As Dain returned from securing the hallway, bolting the door behind him, she wondered if he would go so far as to sleep in the room with her. No sooner had she thought this, but he dragged the chair by the door again and sat in it heavily.