Tilla stared. Bile rose in her throat. By the stars…
"The… Aeternum family," she whispered.
Rune's family.
Frey gazed at the jars as if lost in thought. "I take them with me always. I sleep by their side. I dine with them on my table. Do you know why, lanse?"
Tilla raised her chin. "To remember."
He barked a laugh. "Yes. To remember. To remember their weakness. To remember their punishment. To remember why we fight." He nodded and met her gaze. "My daughter speaks highly of you. She says you serve the red spiral well. She also says… that you knew an Aeternum."
Finally he sat too. He leaned forward in his seat and stared at her. The jars rose upon the table between them. The severed heads seemed to stare at Tilla too.
"I knew Relesar in Cadport," Tilla said, and her insides twisted. Her voice softened. "He was called Rune then."
She stared at the jars. Rune's parents and siblings. Tilla's throat tightened, and under the table, she twisted her fingers together. She could imagine Rune's head joining the others, staring at her with dead eyes, begging her. Tilla had to suck in her breath and grind her teeth to stop her eyes from watering.
"Tell me about him," said the emperor. "Tell me about our enemy. But do not tell me about Relesar Aeternum. I hear stories of Relesar all day from a thousand men—Relesar the brutal warrior, or Relesar the frightened pup, or Relesar the figurehead dancing to Valien's flute. I hear only stories. I hear men brag and boast, and I hear men whisper in fear." He leaned closer across the table. "Do not tell me about the heir of a fallen dynasty. Tell me about Rune. Tell me about the boy you knew."
Tilla swallowed, wanting to flee, wanting to vanish, wanting anything but this.
Stars, Rune, why did you have to join the Resistance? Why didn't you just run?
"He grew up thinking he was a mere brewer," Tilla said, and now her eyes stung. "He never spoke against the Regime. He never spoke of the lost days of Aeternum. He did not know of his heritage until the Resistance found him. He was just a commoner. He was my friend."
Those days returned to her, so powerful she could barely breathe. In her mind, she walked along the beach with him again, collecting seashells under the sun, swimming among the waves, and laughing and telling stories. And she remembered that last night. She could feel his embrace and kiss again.
"And yet," Frey said. "And yet… he rose against us. He flew against this very fortress. He slaughtered hundreds here—hundreds of youths from his own town."
Tilla nodded. "I know," she said softly. "And I hate him for it. And I fought him that day. We locked swords in the clock tower." She looked again at the jars, then raised her eyes and met the emperor's gaze. "But Commander, I believe that he did not choose this fight. I believe that Valien Eleison poisoned his mind. I believe that the Resistance kidnapped him, forced him to hate us, forced him to fight. And I believe—I must believe—that he can be saved. That deep inside, he still loves Requiem."
Frey raised his eyebrows. "I should think that an officer in the Legions would crave to behead our greatest enemy."
Tilla swallowed. She had to tread carefully here. A wrong word and she herself would lose her head. She glanced again at the jars. She hated Rune. She hated all that he'd done. Yet for her memories, for her seashells, and for that kiss, she had to save him. She had to.
She returned her eyes to the emperor.
"Our greatest enemy is no single man, Commander," she said. "Our enemy is an idea. Our enemy is defiance. The Resistance is small; they cannot defeat us with strength of arms. They fight not with blades, but with foolish dreams. That's why they did not attack the capital, but plastered their words across our walls." Tilla trembled, knowing she could die any second, but kept talking. "To the Resistance, that's all Rune is. Not a warrior. Certainly not a leader. He's an idea. He's a memory of older days."
Frey stared at Tilla, and his eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened, and she could not breathe. She was sure he would kill her. She was sure this was her last flicker of life. When Frey opened his mouth, she expected him to call the axehands to torture and slay her.
Yet only a laugh burst from his lips, a snort of amusement.
"Ha! My daughter was right." Frey's lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. "You are a wise one, Lanse Siren. But tell me—should rebellious ideas not be crushed? A figurehead rises against us. Should we not behead him?"
Tilla shook her head, breath shaky. "Commander, it's not my role to dictate policy. You are wiser than I am. Yet if you ask me my thoughts, I will say: No." She gripped her hands under the table. "You cannot slay an idea with a blade. If you kill Relesar, you give the Resistance more power. You would turn Relesar into a martyr. The people would rally around his death; the idea would live on."
Frey nodded slowly, lips pursed. "So are we to let him live, you say? Are we to let him keep fighting, keep slaying our troops, keep spreading this idea?"
"No," Tilla said. "We cannot do that either. Again, Commander, you are wiser than I am. Yet since you ask me, I speak to you freely." She raised her chin and stared at him, forcing herself not to look away. "Commander, we must capture Relesar, and we must force him to abandon this idea. We must stand him upon the towers and walls of Nova Vita, and we must have him hail the red spiral. The people will see that even Relesar Aeternum, heir of the old dynasty, worships your glory." She nodded. "All fire would drain from the Resistance. Valien would be left with nothing but a few haggard fighters."
Frey nodded. "You speak wisely, child. A dead martyr is far more dangerous than a living servant. People still fight for their dead. Have their hero foreswear his fight, and their courage will abandon them. And yet, what makes you think we can sway Relesar? With torture?" He raised an eyebrow. "Would you have us torture your childhood friend?"
Tilla swallowed, remembering the man in the hut, the man she had burned and cut.
"If need be," she said softly. "Yet I believe that I can sway him more easily. Tortured lips reveal their pain; a forced vow of loyalty would sway few." She leaned across the table. "I can sway him with words, Commander. With my punisher if I must, but I believe my words will work better. Please, Commander. I know Rune. I grew up with him. He loves Requiem, yet Valien has poisoned his mind. Allow me to show him your glory! Let us capture him. Let us bring him north. I will show him your light and the errors of his ways. He will become not a tortured, sniveling slave, but a true warrior to our cause." She allowed herself a small smile. "Can you imagine a greater blow to the Resistance?"
The emperor was silent.
Tilla sat still, refusing to break their stare.
Please, Tilla prayed silently to whatever gods, new or old, might be listening. Please let him agree. Please. I cannot see Rune beheaded, despite all his sins. I must save him.
The emperor's stare seemed to last forever. His gaze bored into her, seeking, rifling, searching for any trace of betrayal. Tilla forced herself to stare back, chin raised and jaw squared.
Finally the emperor rose to his feet.
"You are wise, Lanse Siren," he said. "And you speak truth. My daughter is right to groom you." He placed his hand on one jar; inside floated the head that looked like Rune. "We will take Relesar alive, and it will be your task to sway him. You will use words, or you will use your punisher." His lips pulled back in a snarl. "Relesar Aeternum will stand upon the tower of Tarath Imperium, gaze upon the empire, and roar his loyalty to the red spiral. And if he will not… his head will join the others."
As Tilla flew back to her tent, her insides roiled and her wings shook.
I saved your life today, Rune, she thought as she flew over the camp. You might never know it, but today I saved you.
Below her, a hundred thousand troops saluted and roared. War was near.
KAELYN
My father is coming to kill me.
The words echoed through Kaelyn's mind as she crawled down the tunnel. The dirt walls closed in around her, reinforced with wooden slats.
Resistors crawled behind, lamps shining, boasting of how many soldiers they'd kill. Kaelyn barely heard them.
My father is coming to kill me.
The words kept rattling in her skull. Kaelyn held a tin lamp and a parchment map of these tunnels. She knew that she crawled beneath the tannery, heading toward the butcher shop. Yet in the shadows, this seemed an older, darker place. In the shadows, she was a frightened girl again, hiding under her bed as her father raged. Again she saw his hands reaching to grab her, his rod raised to strike, his eyes blazing.
"No, Father," she whispered. "Please."
She winced. The scars flared across her body, all those scars he'd given her and Leresy. She had escaped. She had left her twin behind. She had grown into a strong woman, a warrior, a leader. Yet here in the darkness, the walls closing in around her, that strength vanished. Here she was young and afraid.
My father is coming to kill me.
"Kaelyn," Rune whispered behind her. "How far is it?"
She looked over her shoulder and saw him there, covered in grime. He crawled on his belly, holding a lamp.
"We're under Market Street," she said, checking her map. "The fur shop is above us; the butcher shop is ahead. That's where the tunnel goes."
His face was young and earnest. He still did not know enough fear. He still had not seen enough of her father's cruelty.
Kaelyn kept crawling.
Again my father reaches for me, she thought. Only now he reached toward her with an army. And if he caught her this time, if she could not scurry deep enough into the shadows, he would not just beat her. He would kill her and display her mutilated corpse to the empire.
The tunnel curved up, leading to floorboards above her head. Kaelyn pushed them aside and crawled onto the floor of the butcher shop. Rubbing dust out of her eyes, she reached down and helped Rune enter too. Ten other resistors followed, clad in leather armor and bearing swords and bows.
Kaelyn looked around her and nodded, satisfied. Large slabs of meat hung from hooks, providing many places to hide. Cleavers hung upon walls, providing extra weapons. A barrel of gunpowder stood at the door, wired to blast outward should the Legions burst into the shop.
"I want to be stationed here when the fighting starts," Rune said. He looked around, smacked his lips, and nodded. "Lots of nice, fresh slabs of ham. Perfect if you get hungry during the fighting." He nodded. "Definitely the best place to be."
Kaelyn glowered and jabbed her finger at his chest.
"You," she said, "will fight from Castellum Acta with me and Valien."
Rune rubbed his chest and moaned. "Can I fight from the bakery?"
"No!"
"How about the wine shop? I can—"
"Rune!" Kaelyn grabbed his collar. "Will you please stop thinking about your belly for once? The Legions fly here, and you need to stay near me and Valien in the fortress. I need to look after you."
He cleared his throat. "I am, you know, your king." He puffed out his chest. "I could just command myself to stay here with the nice food."
"You're not my king yet," she said, fixing him with her best glare. "Until we win this war, you're nothing but a silly boy with a very hungry belly and a very empty skull. Now come on, we have more tunnels to inspect."
They returned to the tunnel. They kept crawling.
They crawled for hours.
During the past two moons, they had dug a network of tunnels under every main street in Lynport. As Kaelyn crawled, she examined her map.
"In these tunnels, we can scurry between every shop in town," she whispered to herself. "We can crawl from courthouse to castle, from cobbler shop to chandlery, from forest to sea."
He is coming to kill me.
She sucked in her breath; it trembled in her lungs.
"Every doorway is booby trapped with gunpowder," she whispered. "Archers stand in every window, watching every street and alley. When the Legions swarm, we will slaughter them everywhere."
Yet her heart kept thrashing, and her fingers kept trembling, and she couldn't stop that voice from echoing.
So come, she thought and tightened her lips. Come and let us fight. Come and let it be done.
When evening fell, she and Rune rose from the tunnels, shifted into dragons, and flew toward the fortress on the hill. Castellum Acta now displayed the banners of Aeternum, a silver, two-headed dragon upon a green field. The Regime had been cleansed from this place. Its troops had joined the Resistance or sat chained in its dungeon.
From here we will command the battle, Kaelyn thought, flying toward the tower. Here our fate will be decided.
Sunset gilded the tower and the whispering sea. The scent of salt filled Kaelyn's nostrils, and the northern forest murmured and swayed. She looked toward the setting sun and felt small.
If I could fly high as the sun, she thought, this war would seem so small to me. We would all be but specks crashing together upon the land. And still the sun would turn. And still the sea would rise and fall.
A lump filled her throat, for this sunset, these waves, and these trees—the land itself—seemed sad to her. Kaelyn had never known peace; she'd been raised in Tarath Imperium under her father's heel. Yet here in Lynport, she caught glimpses of what peace could mean. It was a whisper of waves, a song so ancient it had no words. It was the sway of trees, an eternal dance. It was orange sunset fading into starry night.
This is what Rune always meant, Kaelyn realized. He had talked of walks along the beach, of laughter with his friends, of peace, of hope. Kaelyn had never known such things, yet she saw them in the waves, and she heard them in the wind.
And I will fight for them, she thought, the scent of water and leaves in her nostrils, tears in her eyes. And maybe someday I will know peace too.
"Kaelyn," Rune said, flying beside her. He nudged her with his tail. "Are you all right?"
She managed a smile. "No. I'm not all right. None of this is." She blasted smoke. "But we're going to fight nonetheless."
The two dragons reached Castellum Acta and landed upon its tower. The battlements rose around them in a henge. The town stretched below along the coast, trapped between sea and forest.
Kaelyn took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp air.
Come and fight me, Father. I'm ready.
As if in answer, a roar sounded in the north.
Kaelyn whipped her head around. Her heart thudded. For an instant, she was sure the battle had come, that Frey Cadigus flew toward them with all his wrath and might. But it was only a single dragon flying across the forest. The dragon was still distant, but when Kaelyn squinted, she saw black scales crested with a white stripe.
"Lady Lana Cain," she whispered.
At her side, Rune growled. Smoke rose from his nostrils.
"She brings news," he said. "News is never good."
The striped dragon flew closer, swallowing the miles and roaring her cry. When finally Lana reached Lynport, she flew at a wobble, smoke trailing from her nostrils. With a last flap of her wings, Lana all but crashed onto the tower top. She shifted back into human form and lay panting, a woman clad in yellow and gray, a streak of white blazing through her black hair. A pin bearing the sigil of Cain, two statues guarding an archway, fastened her cloak.
"Lana!" Kaelyn said. She too shifted into human form and knelt above her friend. "Lana, are you all right?"
Lana lay wheezing. Her skin was pale, and her fingers trembled when she adjusted her eyepatch.
"The Legions," she whispered. Fear filled her one eye. "So many… so many."
Whenever Kaelyn had seen Lana, her friend had seemed a confident warrior, a smirk on her face, her hand always clutching her saber's hilt. Yet now she trembled like a woman returned from the Abyss.
"Do they fly south?" Kaelyn whispered and clutched her friend's hand. It was ice cold. "What have you seen?"
Lana reached up. She grabbed Kaelyn's shoulder, her fingers desperate, her lips white. She seemed like a drowning woman clinging on for life.
&nb
sp; "Kaelyn," she whispered, "we must flee."
VALIEN
He stood in the grand hall of Castellum Acta, stared into the crackling fireplace, and growled.
I need a drink.
He clenched his fists. His head spun. His throat constricted; he could feel the soldier's fingers squeezing him again, that grip from years ago that had ruined his voice. Rye would cure that pain. Rye would erase that memory. Valien grumbled.
I had to hide the boy in the nearest tavern, didn't I? Now it's burned down and my throat is parched.
"Valien," she said behind him. "Valien, please."
He turned and saw her there. As always, when his eyes first fell upon her, he saw his wife again, saw Marilion staring from beyond the years, beckoning, pleading, waiting for him to save her.
"Valien," Kaelyn repeated. "What do we do?"
He tightened his lips.
It was Kaelyn, of course. It was always Kaelyn, a new light in his life, a reminder of throbbing shadows.
Marilion lives! She lives in my dungeon, you fool!
"Valien?" she asked, voice hesitant.
She sat at the table, her quiver slung across her shoulder. Rune sat at her side, clad in black wool and brown leather, the Amber Sword fastened at his belt. Lady Lana sat there too; her face was still pale, and her fingers still trembled as she brought a mug of soup to her lips.
"We flee," Valien said. "Simple as that. We cannot fight this."
Kaelyn and Rune leaped to their feet so fast their chairs crashed down. Both began to protest at once.
"But… we've dug all these tunnels!" Rune said, face red. "We've lined the walls with cannons. We've recruited three thousand townsfolk, armed them, given them positions, trained them to fight—"
Valien glared at the boy. "Three thousand townsfolk who would die when Frey arrives."
"Valien!" Kaelyn said. She marched around the table and grabbed his arm. "We've dug in here for two moons now, and… how we can just abandon this city? After all the work we've done?"
A Birthright of Blood (The Dragon War, Book 2) Page 15
