Kingdoms of Ether (Kingdoms of Ether Series Book 1)

by Ryan Muree

  Kayson sighed. “The REV.”

  Emeryss and Grier looked at him.

  “Trouble,” Adalai said. “General Orr didn’t mention this would be a problem. I didn’t know they’d moved this far east.”

  Sonora shielded her eyes from the morning sun. “They hadn’t. There must have been a small sect from here, and they called their buddies as soon as it happened.”

  “Who are they exactly?” Emeryss asked.

  “The REV, in this case, would be short for Revel Emergency Volunteers,” Adalai said. “But it also means Revel for Everyone, Reject-Evolve, the Revolutionaries… They make it fit whatever they want.”

  “They’re a criminal organization,” Vaughn said. “They hate the king and his advisors. They think the whole country is corrupt and that they don’t have to follow its rules.”

  Kayson nodded. “After events like this, they move in and take advantage of the people. The people need the help, and the REV is smaller and more mobile compared to the RCA. Sometimes, they can get to the tragedy first, offer help, and the people are indebted to them. And then they don’t leave. They try to control resources coming in from the capital, expecting loyalty and secrecy.”

  Grier crossed his arms. “How do you handle them?”

  “We don’t,” Urla said from behind. “We leave them be. They leave us be. As long as we don’t cross paths or step on toes, we let it go.”

  “You mean as long as they don’t know there’s a Scribe and her Keeper here?” Grier asked.

  “That would be the smartest idea, yes.”

  “Why leave them be, though?” Emeryss asked.

  “Because if we went against them now,” Kayson said, “after they’ve stepped in to help the people before we could, the citizens would get angry at us. It’d make our jobs more difficult. Better to stay out of each other’s way for now, and once the citizens and the city are back on their feet, we’ll send in some other units to clean them up.”

  “This is what I was afraid of, Emeryss,” Grier said. “If they notice you before we get to meet with Avrist, it’ll be over. People like this would not let you go.”

  “Actually,” Adalai said. “You’ll be the one to give her away.”

  Grier was in his full Keeper uniform, shield-arm bracer and everything. He stood out like a giant enormous middle finger.

  “We don’t have a Scribe uniform big enough to fit him,” Urla said.

  “And I don’t have enough time to make him one, either,” Mykel added.

  “Can you disguise him, too?” Emeryss asked.

  Adalai shrugged. “I can try. I’ve never Glamoured a man before.”

  Grier took a deep breath, stood squarely in front of her, and bent down a little. “No long hair, please.”

  She wiped her palms on her uniform and carefully placed them on either side of his face. Clenched jaw and all muscle, the ignorant jelt had tried to kill her just a couple days before. Now, she was giving him a damn makeover.

  She willed the ether to build a Glamour over him and somehow managed to mold his face into a longer, older form. After giving him dark hair, a mustache, and a longer nose, she worked on the clothes. Turning his armor into an RCA uniform, bracer and all, she’d made him into a somewhat-convincing RCA Caster.

  “Well?” He looked at Emeryss.

  Emeryss leaned back. “Oh yeah, I see what you mean now. Different.”

  “Can we get started, please? These crates aren’t going to move themselves.” Vaughn had begun setting up carts and enlarging them to their normal size.

  “Be on the lookout for black outfits,” Urla said. “You’ll see them but pretend you don’t. If they ask questions, answer them and get back with the group. Don’t go anywhere without us, Emeryss.”

  She nodded.

  Vaughn cursed. “Man, this was supposed to be easy. Why couldn’t you have set us down near the camps?”

  Jahree slid on some dark gloves. “Wouldn’t let me. They directed me here.”

  Emeryss squinted at the other airships all lined up beside theirs. Their dark-gray bodies had the sigils of their squads painted on their sides. “Are those the other units?”

  Adalai pointed to each one. “Sylphs. Dawnflies. Harpies. Even the stupid Wyverns are here.”

  First, the REV, then the Wyverns. Today was going to be the worst.

  “Let’s go,” Urla called out.

  “I hate the Wyverns,” she muttered. “Bunch of hopper-sniffing tart-holes.”

  “Why?” Emeryss asked.

  “They’re full of themselves. Know-it-alls, but good for nothing. If you get to stay in Neeria or get the okay from your Librarian, I’ll invite you to watch me in the RCA Ethereal Series.”

  “The Caster contest?”

  “It’s basically a show for the people, so they know how strong we are and how well-protected they are. But we compete for status and stuff. Then you’ll get to see how terrible the Wyverns are.”

  Emeryss smiled, but it didn’t reach her gold eyes. She was nervous or unsure, maybe.

  Vaughn handed Urla the clipboard he’d been holding. “All right, everyone, let me resize the crates a little bit, so you can see what we’re loading onto the carts.”

  He checked his wrist and swirled his hands until a flurry of amber ether made ten flat-bed carts grow to the size of small carriages. He turned toward the cargo, pointed to the metal floor, and a cloud of amber dust leaving his finger made microscopic crates grow to palm size.

  One-by-one, they loaded the crates onto their carts.

  “Why can’t you make them Blink onto the carts?” Emeryss asked Adalai.

  Emeryss was full of questions today. And that was good, because she needed to learn. She might have been a hard worker in Neeria, but the rest of Revel had gone on without her kind, as cruel as it was. If she was going to figure out casting, she had to learn the basics.

  And who better to teach her than someone who had to learn for herself?

  “That’s my limitation,” Adalai explained. “So, first Caster lesson. You know that whatever sigil is in a grimoire, we get as many uses as what page it’s on? So, a fireball on page fourteen of a grimoire would give someone fourteen fireballs, right?”

  Emeryss nodded.

  “Well, ether has its limitations. Sometimes it means I have to expend more ether to achieve the same thing. We have something like a thousand crates here. It would take me a thousand Blinks to get them there. Not really worth it.”

  “Oh.”

  “We all have limits, though.” She gestured at Vaughn. “He can’t make something so huge that it would break the world or something. Tully can’t force time to go forward or back for the whole planet. Kayson might be able to bring someone back from the dead, but it’d have to be really quick and not too dead, I guess.”

  Emeryss adjusted some crates on her own cart. “So, my limitation…”

  “We don’t know. We don’t know what you have an affinity for.” That was something she hadn’t considered. “All right, when we’re done here and get back on the Zephyr, we’ll probably have to work out a few kinks to solve your affinity.”

  “We have our instructions,” Sonora called out. One of her arms was looped through Kayson’s, but she perked her chin up in the air to listen to sounds only she could hear. “Across the courtyard to the eastern side.”

  “Let’s move them in,” Urla ordered.

  Grier pulled ahead with his cart, cutting Adalai off from joining Emeryss. She’d swear if that goody-goody wasn’t careful, she’d stab him in the shoulder. “Hey, Keeper. Stop walking like a Keeper.”

  He looked back over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re supposed to be a Caster, and no Caster walks around like he’s got a rod up his ass.” She grinned; he did not.

  In a line, they moved the carts down the path and toward the eastern side of the city. The grit of the broken streets called to her, haunting her with memories she’d wished she could forget. People were either
sprawled out in absolute defeat against broken walls and signposts, or they were huddled together for comfort on curbs and benches. Some had white sheets over their bodies as other squads hovered over them and recorded information. The white rock dust had settled into the creases of their faces, the folds of their clothes, and every crevice on the once beautiful city.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t all bad. Several were happy, clapping and cheering that they were passing through with carts. They knew it was more food, more supplies, more hope that their king, their General Orr, and their army hadn’t forgotten them or left them to die alone and scared.

  REV members stood on every corner, however, observing them.

  “Don’t stare,” Urla said under her breath.

  Adalai adjusted her focus to the street and their destination.

  When they arrived at the tents, it seemed the other squads had been there for a day at least. They had huge bags under their eyes and shouted curt demands, interspersed with sighs. Even the Wyverns looked like crap, struggling to keep helpful smiles while they handed out clean water.

  Damn. Things were bad if she couldn’t even hate the Wyverns in these circumstances. They were doing all they could, and yet the lines of people needing help still went on forever down the street and around the corners. The damage was too much. There was nothing more that could be done to make it quicker.

  The Ingini will regret this.

  At their vacant tent space, Urla ordered the crates be enlarged and set up as quickly as possible. The space was large enough for healing and food distribution if they arranged it properly. Even with the worn down, frayed canvas and bent metal poles, it would suffice. Besides that, Grier, Jahree, and Mykel went to work strengthening the poles and sheeting. It’d be functioning in no time.

  The Wyvern leader, Henri, wiped his hands with a rag as he sauntered over and rested his hip against a newly enlarged crate. “About time you guys got here. What, too many parties to go to?”

  Spirits, all it took was one conversation to hate them all over again. It could have been because everywhere around them was death and suffering and she wasn’t looking forward to the long day ahead. Or it could have been because Henri was a giant ass. All sympathy gone, she could palm-strike him in the nose, and she wouldn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Rolling her eyes, she focused on breaking open crates instead. “Still jealous?”

  “Never. We do the real work; you pretend. As long as your squad can sleep at night thinking you’re all helping.”

  She grumbled and bit her tongue. Don’t say anything. Focus on helping people. Focus on helping people.

  “Urla’s looking a little old. I’m surprised your father hasn’t made you squad leader, yet.” He giggled at his own comment and wiped his bulbous nose.

  “I’m not Orr’s daughter,” she forced through her teeth.

  “Daughter… Mistress… Does it matter?”

  Her blood simmered. She was neither, but the rumors never ended.

  He licked his thin lips. “Your hodgepodge group ends up with a solid Sub-A class airship, one of the biggest of the mobile squads, and you’re going to get specific about what you are to him?”

  She grunted as she picked up a heavy crate filled with fruit and rammed it into his chest.

  He backed up a step.

  “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

  He grinned. “It’s okay. Illusionary casting isn’t all that impressive. It’s a matter of time before he tires of his use for you—”

  She dropped the crate, all fifty pounds of it, right on top of his precious little toes.

  He yelped as he leaped back, and quickly walked back to his tent nearby.

  “Might need some ice for that. I could get Kayson to help you, but I won’t,” she called to him as he limped away.

  A line of hungry children and their parents formed in front of their tent and waited patiently as the containers and crates were being organized.

  The people were polite, waiting their turn. They deserved better, but the Ingini would never understand that. The Ingini weren’t the type to understand that what was good for everyone needed to be shared. They were only ever worried about themselves, and whatever they’d hoped to achieve by attacking Delour, they had failed at. Ingini would not break the Revelian spirit.

  “You must be a very useful Caster,” one man said.

  She jerked her head up with a smile, but he hadn’t been speaking to her. He’d meant Emeryss.

  Emeryss blushed and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

  “You don’t have any sigils on your wrist.” He pointed to it, and she quickly slid her sleeve back down her arm to hide it. “It’s okay, I don’t either. Went through them all. I’m just a cook though. Not good enough for the army.”

  She leaned in beside Emeryss to help keep the line moving. “Sir, your next stop is grimoires. You’ll be able to pick some more up there.”

  “Is it all right that you don’t have any sigils and you’re in the army?” he pressed.

  Emeryss smiled, sliding some hair behind her ear. “Haven’t refilled yet.”

  Why was he so worried about whether Emeryss had enough sigils? Were these people that unsure of the stability of the country? Is that what the REV had been up to down here?

  “The rations have been hitting us pretty hard,” the man continued. “I don’t think we’ll survive another attack if the army isn’t prepared—”

  “She’s been training extra hard to fight against the Ingini,” Adalai lied. “That’s why.”

  The man lifted his basket of fresh fruit and grains, dipping his head slightly in apology. “Well, thank you for your hard work.”

  As soon as he passed, Emeryss sighed through her nose. “Sorry, I froze up. I didn’t know what else to say.”

  Adalai nudged her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

  Grier’s head bent forward between theirs. He’d been standing behind Emeryss while she handed out supplies. “These REV people are everywhere,” he said under his breath.

  Adalai followed where his gaze went, finding several members near them.

  “They have to protect their investment,” Vaughn said just as low. “They could organize civilians and march over that Ingini wall in a day if they wanted. People protect them because of their help, but if you give them time and no RCA to clean them up, they’d turn this city into a gambling, underground hub. They’d profit off the people while slowly sinking them into a crime-infested nightmare.”

  Grier huffed in agreed disgust.

  It wasn’t that bad. Sure, Adalai didn’t trust them either. They were known for shady deals, even with the Ingini, but the cities weren’t as rough as Vaughn had claimed. He wouldn’t know because he was the great-great-great-grandson of some previous king’s trade advisor, and he’d come from the upper streets of Cilla. He’d think pissing on the street was a crime.

  Urla passed behind them. “Eyes forward. Pay them no mind.”

  Emeryss lifted an empty crate and turned to Grier. “Can you move this back, so I can get a new one?”

  He took it without question, but both of them froze before passing it completely.

  “What’s wrong?” Adalai leaned back.

  They were both staring down at his arm. Emeryss’s eyes shot up to his. “Just take it off,” she whispered.

  “I can’t. I won’t.”

  “What’s wrong?” Adalai leaned in and found Grier’s bracer on his shield-arm wavering in and out of the Glamour she’d cast for him. Shit.

  “It’s okay. I’ll keep it low,” he said. “No one will notice. It’s just a bracer.”

  Hol-shit it was just a bracer. A lone silver bracer wrapped around one arm, intricately carved with the emblem of his Keeper house was not just a bracer. It screamed the truth, and truth was Keepers didn’t work alongside Casters.

  “I can keep it hidden,” he said.

  Adalai side-eyed the crowd. REV members weren’t exactly alerted to them, but they were definitely close enough to notice if some
thing went wrong. One, in particular, had been keeping a keen eye on her.

  “Keep going on as usual. Don’t alert anything. Maybe don’t stand too close to Emeryss,” she suggested.

  “What would that matter?” he quipped. “And no, I’m not putting distance between us.”

  Despite the hiccup, and after some creative finagling, he managed to get Emeryss a new crate, and they were able to keep the line moving. Maybe this was a lot more dangerous than she’d previously thought, but so long as they kept up appearances and helped the people, it wouldn’t matter.

  Emeryss looked to be enjoying herself. Her cheeks had brightened, her eyes even sort of twinkled, and the people loved her. If they’d known she was Neerian, it’d probably be a different story. It wasn’t Emeryss’s fault, of course, but people never trusted what they didn’t understand. And once they’d decided what you were, they liked to keep you there, under their thumb or an arms-length away—not really one of them.

  She handed an older woman a basket of fruit and smiled.

  Adalai may have been dumped on the streets of Aurelis, but she’d always done a good job of making family where she could find it, and truth be told, maybe she and Emeryss needed to stick together. She liked the idea of training Emeryss for something new and liked the idea of free grimoires even more. But even though Emeryss hadn’t had much success yesterday, they both had the same fighting spirit to get what they wanted. Adalai could sense it.

  After Emeryss met with this Avrist guy, she’d stay with the Zephyrs and train for a little bit, and Adalai needed to think of a plan for her own promotion. A plan would be good. Usually, she threw things from the hip, but this was important, and if Emeryss figured out how to cast, and Adalai got to present it to General Orr, then she’d need to look as professional as possible. A plan was something Urla—a squad leader—would do. So first, they’d figure out if Emeryss had an affinity for anything. She’d need the crew’s help with that. Second, they’d work on different techniques for pulling the ether—