Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy)

by J. S. Morin

  “What if this is a feint? Maybe they intend to take a flotilla down the Neverthaw, taking Korgen along the way to conquering Naran Port,” Rashan said. His tone was flat, suggesting that he was not actually advocating the possibility, merely being thorough.

  “It would certainly be a surprising tactic. Given the number of troops the reports indicate, they would need a lot of ships, though. I would think that any ships that were able to get under sail or oar would have departed Illard’s Glen at the first sighting of a hostile force. That would mean the goblins would have to build their flotilla in Illard’s Glen, and that would negate any advantage of surprise they might think to take—building enough ships would take the best part of a season.

  “Besides, if we prepare Raynesdark for an attack, and they make for Korgen instead, we can take a force and pursue them. We would need to be careful, but if we time it correctly, we could arrive in time to pin them between ourselves and the defenders in Korgen.”

  “Very well, you can detail your plans on the way there. Be prepared to depart early tomorrow morning. I will have sorcerers to support you, and I shall scavenge about the palace for any useful magics that have been squirreled away in the name of the nonexistent emperor. Any questions?”

  “Yes. What were you and Shador Archon discussing?” Brannis asked. He was beginning to understand how Rashan thought and figured he would need to be direct to get any useful answer out of him.

  “Wrong question. You have a lot of—”

  “No, this time I have the question I want. I may have more later, but this is the one I would like answered first,” Brannis said.

  Rashan looked perturbed, a slight frown creasing his delicate features. After a moment’s pause, a smile curled one side of his mouth.

  “I am going to enjoy having you leading my armies, Brannis. I spent much of yesterday bullying sorcerers thrice your age and then some, men who had for long summers ruled unquestioned. None of them dared interrupt me, much less contradict me. A few hold back because they distrust me and wish to wait for the ideal time to strike, but for the most part, it is simple fear that stays their tongues. Always remember, Brannis, it is your mind that I value—your insight, your inquisitiveness, even your conscience. If I wanted a swinging sword and an empty helmet, I have a whole army filled with those already to choose from.”

  “And you still have not answered,” Brannis said, folding his arms in front of him.

  “Very well. I was speaking to Sorcerer Shador about his daughter. I saw the matchmakers records, so I know she was once promised to you, but I believe it was understood that the marriage was contingent on you turning out to be a sorcerer,” Rashan said.

  Brannis could not help but flush in a combination of embarrassment and shame. It had been winters since he had put the Academy behind him, but the sting could still be brought fresh to the surface by thoughts of Juliana.

  “She is too bright a flower to be unwed at her age,” Rashan said. “I thought that she would be an ideal match for Iridan.”

  “What!” Brannis exclaimed.

  He had held some vague illusion that perhaps Rashan had been leading up to explain that a grand marshal would still be a fine and honorable husband for a sorceress of the Archon line.

  “Well, Iridan would have been considered for a prime match long ago had the Circle known of his lineage. He cannot just linger around and marry some daughter of a lesser nobleman, or a simple commoner.” Rashan sighed. “And he is just the sort, too. I could easily see him falling for some nobody, a sweet little thing from a worthless family, pleasant enough but no fit match to be sure.”

  “Who is his mother, anyway?” Brannis asked.

  “You are the first to ask that,” Rashan replied, chuckling. “Is it any wonder that this Empire is slipping away as my conquests come undone? Even Iridan has yet to overcome his shock enough to get to that one. His mother is immortal—a demon, if you will—like me. Unlike me, she was born that way. Among the small community of immortals where I met her, they call it being ‘pureborn.’ I had hoped being half pureborn would give Iridan a better chance of being born pureborn himself, but alas …”

  “I shall want to know more about these other immortals at some point, but there are more pressing concerns at hand,” Brannis responded.

  It seemed that Rashan had an unlimited capacity to overwhelm his thoughts. There were a hundred things he needed to know, to arrange, to investigate, and to plan.

  “Agreed,” Rashan said, “so let us—”

  “So what did he say?” Brannis broke in, deftly setting aside one hundred things at once. Men had their weaknesses, and for all his troubles with magic, Brannis’s greatest weakness was one particular sorceress, as it had been ever since that one summer …

  * * * * * * * *

  “So what did he say?” Brannis had asked Juliana Archon on that day, trying to control himself from snatching the parchment from her hand and reading it for himself.

  He had pulled her aside after her early afternoon lesson in interpreting runes. The messenger had arrived mid morning, and she had opened it as soon as their alchemy lesson had ended. Brannis had tried to talk to her as soon as he had gotten word, but she had played coy and managed to avoid him thus far.

  “Oh, are you referring to this?” Juliana replied, offering the parchment to Brannis and snatching it away when he made a grab for it. “I could not begin to imagine.”

  She grinned mischievously and Brannis melted just a little. He had grown completely incapable of getting mad at Juliana and was hopelessly enchanted with her. She was still a bully and a troublemaker, but she had left Iridan alone since the day Brannis had humbled her winters ago. And while she was still tall for her age and best described as rail-thin, she had acquired the curves of a woman and had taken them as her preferred weapon over her fists. It was a good thing, too, for while at eight summers old, Brannis was a hand taller and a gallon or two heavier, now he was nearly a head taller and half again her weight.

  Brannis made another attempt at the parchment, and Juliana turned, holding it at arm’s length with her body blocking the path to it. When Brannis grabbed her arm, she shifted it to her other hand, giggling as Brannis pulled her around by the wrong side. She twisted away, but relented when Brannis caught hold of her other arm, relaxing back up against him and holding the parchment angled so that he could read it over her shoulder.

  Brannis realized he had been tricked when he found himself with his arms wrapped around a willing Juliana, her back pressed against his chest and the scent of the honeysuckle perfume in her golden-red hair filling his nostrils. Brannis had always been the tallest of the boys his age at the Academy and mature for his age, but he had also reached adolescence first. With a deepening voice and a jawline that was, if not bearded, at the very least clearly unshaven, he seemed much older than the other boys. As the girls of his class gained a more adult awareness of the boys, Brannis was the first target of their youthful daydreams. Tall, handsome, and athletic, he was everything most girls could hope for, and Juliana was no exception.

  “So this is it?” Brannis asked, after scanning the document. “Everything is settled now?”

  “Yes,” Juliana replied simply. “I get to keep you.”

  She grinned and spun free of Brannis’s loosened grasp, then leaped up into his arms and crushed him in a fierce embrace, the parchment still clutched in one hand. She squealed in delight, unable to contain her excitement.

  Brannis was nearly bowled over but stumbled and managed to keep his footing. A shoulder under his chin was nearly choking him, but he managed to wrap his arms around her and support her weight, easing her to the ground once she had calmed down enough to relax her grip and let him go.

  “Oh, Brannis, it will be wonderful. I can stop worrying now that some other girl will get you for a husband. I cannot wait for us to finish up and graduate. These next five winters will be an eternity!” Juliana gushed, staring up at Brannis with eyes that were seeing him as perh
aps a bit more than he actually was. While she would graduate in four summers, Brannis was a year younger, so they would have to wait until both finished their studies.

  “It is only four winters and two hundred nineteen days actually,” Brannis said, grinning.

  While he was less outwardly overcome with elation, he was still both relieved and overjoyed that Juliana was going to be his wife one day. Both of them had known from a young age that their marriages would be determined for them by the Imperial Circle’s blood-readers, who oversaw the couplings of all the scions of the major bloodlines. The blood-readers had ensured the purity of Kadrin Empire’s sorcerous houses for centuries, keeping the most promising blood intermixed. Despite his painfully slow development magically, the high sorcerer’s prophecy kept Brannis’s name high among the potential mates for young sorceresses. As granddaughter of the high sorcerer, Juliana Archon had been deemed a suitable match.

  Houses Solaran and Archon had been crossed so many times that the rivalries that appeared on the surface never ran too deeply. While both were competitive and proud, the familial links were too numerous to allow for things to grow too contentious, and violence had thus been kept largely in check among the Imperial Circle for generations, as the two strongest houses allied themselves in all but name. Had either of them the patience to research their family histories, Brannis and Juliana could have figured that they were cousins some three generations removed.

  “Well, anyway, these are going to be the longest four winters and however many days you just said of my life,” Juliana replied, punctuated by an overly dramatic sigh.

  She twirled away from Brannis’s embrace, causing the green silk skirts of her dress to billow out in a spiral to keep up with her. While the Academy provided room, board, and clothing to all students, many of the wealthier ones still saw to their own wardrobes, especially among the girls. Juliana always preferred to adorn herself in the latest fashions, shunning the plain grey and black of the Academy’s official wardrobe.

  “Nothing wrong with that, you know. We have all the days we could ever hope for. Who says we should not enjoy them now?” Brannis said, smiling cockeyed at Juliana, challenging her feigned martyrdom.

  Unlike his newly betrothed, Brannis wore nothing but the plain garments the Academy provided. He stood out in every other way, for better or worse, and did not wish to further separate himself by flaunting the Solarans’ immense wealth. He was the best student in class in every subject that did not actually involve performing magic, and even at that, he was technically flawless, just lacking completely in native talent. He was also the largest boy his age, at least in height, and was always favored in the yard when the boys gathered to sport. More than one slight about his ineptitude with the aether had been repaid in bruises or a bloodied nose by “accident” in the Academy’s courtyards.

  “Why, Brannis … are you suggesting you intend to court me?” Juliana asked in mock surprise.

  In truth, she had been trying to get him to court her for quite some time and found his stubborn naiveté incongruous with his otherwise quick wit. It did not help matters that half the girls in their class made eyes at him and smiled whenever he looked their way, but unlike the rest of them, Juliana was not only serious but had reasonable grounds to believe she was entitled to him. Rumors had been circulating for at least two summers that she was aware of, regarding the two of them being matched. It made sense to her, what with them each being the youngest of one of the major bloodlines—her being the granddaughter of the high sorcerer and Brannis’s father being in the Inner Circle.

  “If you would rather I did not, we could always just wait until our wedding. No one would—”

  “No, I never said that,” Juliana interrupted, just a little too quickly to maintain her facade of aloofness.

  Brannis’s smile widened just a hair. “Very well, then, yes. I shall court you properly, starting tonight. Meet me at the stables after dinner,” Brannis told her.

  He had been fending Juliana off halfheartedly for what seemed like ages, waiting to find out whether she was going to be the one. He found it awkward talking to other girls, but Juliana was different. He had wanted to court her since his baser urges had started suggesting that such interests ought to be among his priorities, but he did not know how he would have handled it if he had been promised to another. Dinarah Gardarus seemed as likely a match for the blood-readers to make, and Brannis did not want to end up caught between her and Juliana if it came down to that. While Brannis had befriended nearly every boy his own age, he was not sure Juliana had any true friends. Instead she kept company with a small coven of rivals, each constantly vying to outdo the others. They were the highborn girls, all either from the major bloodlines or the wealthier lesser lines. Brannis preferred to keep well clear of them when they were all together, and wanted nothing to do with them fighting over him.

  Brannis also suspected that long before dinner, Dinarah Gardarus would find herself someplace quiet and private to have a long, loud cry. For all that she did to his brain when she was there in front of him, Brannis was still aware of Juliana’s faults. She could be downright cruel when she chose to be.

  That night, Brannis and Juliana had ridden down to the pier at Solaran Estate. Brannis had been surprised how well she rode, since she seemed to spend much of her time at more idle pursuits. She had changed out of the green dress she wore earlier and had donned riding leathers, along with a white silk blouse covered by a black vest, along with a hooded traveling cloak. As ever, her reddish-gold hair was unbound, and it trailed behind her as they rode, occasionally getting in her face as the winds gusted; she seemed not to notice, or at least did not pay it any heed.

  They took the long way to get there, skirting the pastures and grasslands of Solaran Estate’s off-city side rather than taking the streets. They gave their borrowed horses rein to run and raced once they were safely away from the Academy and could afford to be less than stealthy.

  They tied the horses near the pier, and Brannis took them out on one of the small rowboats his family kept for enjoying the peace of the lake, either for fishing or just enjoying the lake for its own sake. It was small and sturdy, ringed around the edge with tiny runes that would keep it from tipping far enough to be dangerous. And while many of Brannis’s kin would have propelled it with magic, it was nonetheless kept equipped with a functioning set of oars, which Brannis put to their proper use.

  As he rowed them out to Dragon’s Eye Island, the little forested oasis at the center of Dragon Lake, he bid Juliana look in the satchel he had brought. Inside was a bottle of ice wine he had pilfered from the Academy’s wine cellar, and a rolled-up woolen blanket that was wrapped around a pair of the fancy goblets that were kept aside for when the Academy was expecting important guests. Juliana looked up from inspecting the satchel’s contents and smiled her approval. It was so quiet and peaceful out on the lake that they had hardly spoken a word since Brannis began to row. The rhythmic slosh of the oars as they entered and exited the water was the only sound.

  The late-spring air was still warm, even as dusk set in and the stars came out as they made their way across the lake. The breeze carried only the faintest of chills that made Juliana huddle beneath the cloak she had worn. She might have worn something prettier than the riding gear she had chosen, but Brannis had told her to meet him by the stables. She had gathered that he was going to have them ride somewhere. It might not have been a masterwork of deduction, but it had still made him feel like she shared his thoughts.

  As for his plans for the evening, he left her guessing at the details. He had read enough storybook romances to know that anticipation and mystery were all but essential. Little had he realized at the time, but Juliana had plans of her own, far more adventurous than his.

  The maids that kept up Archon Estate were incorrigible gossips. Juliana’s ladies’ maids and the girl who cleaned the floor where her room was had taken a rather keen interest in her education while she was home from the Ac
ademy one winter. After comforting her through the confusion and worry following her first moonflow, they had taken her into their confidence as if she had just passed an initiation rite. No longer guarding their tongues in the presence of “young ears,” Juliana had gained a courtesan’s education by the time she arrived back at the Academy that springtime.

  Brannis could see Juliana's breath come quick by the time they neared the island. With no oars to busy her hands, she fidgeted in her seat, some thought clearly occupying her brain. That night, she told Brannis that he was the kindest, bravest, all-around best boy—no, strike that, he was a man—she had ever met. The Inner Circle had seen fit to let her have him, but she would be flogged before she would wait nearly five winters to claim him.

  * * * * * * * *

  “What would you expect? Of course he agreed,” Rashan answered. “It would only be prudent, in the aftermath of his father’s death, to try to solidify his standing in the Circle. What could he possibly hope to gain by antagonizing me by refusing an offer of marriage to my son. The merits of the arrangement itself aside, he would be a fool not to leap at the opportunity to get in my good graces.”

  “But why Juliana Archon, of all the unwed girls in the Empire?” Brannis demanded.

  He suspected that Rashan might be intentionally goading him. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Brannis knew he had slipped just past the line where rational arguments resided, and was now practicing a somewhat suspect alchemy of optimism and paranoia: Maybe he just wants to see if I was still intending to follow through on our betrothal; maybe he was actually talking to Shador on my behalf and wanted to dangle Iridan’s name in the way to tease me; maybe … maybe …

  “You overestimate the number of candidates, I think,” Rashan replied, picking up a hefty volume from his desk and waving it in front of Brannis. “This book has records of all the eligible sorceresses in Kadrin—as well as many who have since been married off. There were perhaps three or four who might have been suitable, perhaps as many as six if I were willing to wait on girls who are still at the Academy. Juliana Archon has the best pedigree of any of them, though. You should be flattered Brannis; it was why you were matched with her yourself.”