Palom
Page 24
Kylos stormed over to put her back in the room, when Lathri halted her. ‘It’s all right, Kylos. She’s well enough to stand. She’s old enough to listen.’
‘I’m eighteen, you know!’ Solvi said, though her manner reminded Isa of someone much younger.
Lathri ignored it. ‘Malashash…is an Ark.’
Isa closed her eyes. Hearing someone else say the words somehow made it more real than when she’d thought them.
Solvi came out of the room completely, and approached the group. ‘What’s…an Ark?’
‘You’re from Sol, aren’t you?’ Lathri asked. Solvi nodded. ‘What do you mine there?’
‘All sorts,’ Solvi said. ‘Iron, mostly.’
‘Iron. A mineral that can be turned into incredible defences and fortifications. Armour, right?’ Lathri asked.
‘What’s that got to do with the Ark?’ Kylos asked.
‘It has everything to do with Malashash. Did you ever wonder why Sol, of all settlements along the Feor Mountains, had mines so rich in ore that they became famous for it? Became wealthy for it?’
Kylos shrugged.
‘It’s not because they’re particularly skilled. It’s not because they’re any better than the other miners who work the mountains. It’s because Sol was built practically on top of Malashash’s burial site. Malashash was the Ark placed to defend Sereth from any aggressors during the war. He was known for his ability to shield those around him. At his peak, he was utterly invulnerable. His defensive powers seeped into the very soil and rock…and Sol has reaped the rewards ever since it was built.’
Isa swallowed. She hadn’t known that.
‘I still don’t know what an Ark is…’ Solvi said. ‘Something to do with the Varkain? If one was defending Sereth?’
‘How do you know that, Lathri?’ Aetos asked.
‘From my studies at the University of Berel. To be a healer of the standard I wanted, I needed to learn the histories of illness and injury. What the Arks did to people…did to the Ittallan? Countless books on that.’
Isa licked her lips and paced. Though the lounge was small, she couldn’t bear the thought of standing still.
‘The Varkain created the Arks about 5,000 years ago. Four of them. And they used the Arks as weapons against us during the height of our races’ war. They were…they were Varkain, once. Twisted by their blood magic and with powers that could level a town in hours. Malashash defended Sereth, and the other three savaged Val Sharis. All our attacks on them failed—they were immortal creatures. Nothing could stand against them…It was death and destruction on a level never seen before.’ Lathri’s voice trembled.
‘Immortal?’ Solvi gasped. ‘Where are they now?’
‘They disappeared near the end of the war. One of Linaria’s greatest mysteries,’ Lathri shook her head. ‘The Ittallan claimed to have thwarted them, and they scrapped all knowledge of the horrors they’d brought to Val Sharis. Even their burial sites were guesses at best.’
‘And Sapora has found the first one,’ Isa said.
‘He’s going to ruin Val Sharis!’ Kylos said.
Isa continued to pace. She couldn’t look at them right now.
‘Sapora set Mateli on my uncle!’ Solvi said, her voice adding to the others. ‘I hate him for that! Hate him!’
Sapora was her brother. Her blood.
The only one who’d ever stood by her.
The only one.
But she couldn’t stand by him if he had decided to bring such an ancient threat to the world.
‘More than that,’ she said. ‘Aciel is still here.’
‘What?’ Lathri said. ‘He’s been sealed by Moroda and the Sevastos!’
‘He has. But…somehow his influence is spreading through the city. I touched an old Ittallan woman yesterday. I heard my name being called. Heard him calling it. Trying to order me. It’s not like the compulsion when he was alive, but if so many people have been affected by it, it’s not far off.’
Lathri heaved herself to her feet as Aetos and Kylos began talking again. Isa watched as Lathri walked to her, her arms coming up to hold her by her shoulders.
‘Princess Isa. You understand our plight. You can see what Sapora plans to unleash upon us…’
‘Yes…’ Isa’s voice was soft.
‘Help us. Use your influence. We cannot save Val Sharis from one dictator to hand her to the next. We need more allies to stand against Sapora. I’ve exhausted my influence here, but yours stretches farther than mine.’
Isa thought. What allies did she have in any kind of power? Allies who didn’t ridicule her?
‘Morgen…’ she muttered.
‘Who?’
‘He’s a captain in the Imperial Guard. Stationed in Niversai…’
‘Princess Isa. The time to act is now. Can you contact him? See if he’ll help? There’s no tiptoeing around it—he needs to know what’s at stake. Aciel. A Sevastos. The Arks. Everything.’
Isa bit her thumbnail.
She didn’t know if Morgen could send the kind of aid Lathri needed.
That would be treason, no question about it.
She couldn’t betray her brother.
Tacio she couldn’t care less about, but Sapora…?
‘Please, Princess Isa,’ Solvi said. ‘He tried to kill my kali. Released Mateli!’
Isa looked away. She felt everyone’s eyes boring into her.
Could she really betray him?
For the sake of Val Sharis?
A Sevastos was one thing. Malashash was quite another.
And through all this, Sapora hadn’t once thought to consult her. He’d ignored her when she’d told him not to release Mateli.
He was acting by his own code. A Varkain code.
The Arks were a step too far.
‘All right.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Amarah slogged through the snow.
She realised she hadn’t actually spent a huge amount of time wandering around on foot—at least, not since she’d bought Khanna. Her situation was made worse by her poor vision—things were so much easier with both eyes.
Kohl had flown them across the short channel of frigid Northern Ocean, which separated mainland Linaria with the Arillian scattered lands.
When they’d reached the other side, Amarah had felt his arms trembling. But he hadn’t complained once and hadn’t demanded she walk.
Despite his chivalry, she couldn’t afford for him to collapse with exhaustion. ‘Kohl. We’re on the mainland now,’ Amarah said.
‘Yes,’ he replied, lips tight.
‘Let’s walk for a bit. You don’t have to carry me the whole way,’ she said. ‘I must weigh a tonne with all this fur!’
Even worse, the mittens she wore were so thick, she could hardly grip him—or her scythe—anymore. She didn’t think he’d drop her, but now he was trembling, Amarah didn’t want to risk it.
Kohl descended slowly, landing as gently as he could, and placed Amarah on the now. He tried to hide it, but she saw how tired he was, and she suddenly felt bad for yelling at him earlier.
Through it all, Kohl was doing the best he could of a pretty awful situation. At least he didn’t complain to the same level as some of her old allies.
And, though Jato still lived, Amarah supposed Kohl was grieving, too. He’d only just realised he’d lost his daughter, and he was clearly struggling to come to terms with that.
‘Do you wanna stop for a bit? Have something to eat?’ she asked, rolling her shoulders and stretching out her arms and legs to ease away the numbness.
‘We…can do. There’s not really anywhere we can use for cover.’ Kohl looked around, sceptical.
They were surrounded by icy fields, covered in snow. To the east, she could see the edges of a vast forest, and to the south, the ice fields continued until the settlement of Tum Metsa, the most northerly-town on the mainland. West and north—where they’d come from—was semi-frozen ocean.
‘We can use those
trees.’ Amarah pointed. ‘Don’t look too far. That okay?’
Kohl nodded and walked off without complaint.
*
When they reached the shelter of the trees, Amarah was quite sure her feet would fall off. Her thick furs and layers of robes kept the cold out—but coupled with the constant walking, she thought she’d boil inside them.
There may have been a path through the forest at one point, but the trees were so numerous, and the snow was so thick, that she couldn’t make out any details. The only hint to a path ever existing was an old, bronze sign nailed into one of the broader tree trunks.
She couldn’t read anyway, and with only one eye, focussing on the letters was nigh impossible. She could make out only the first letter: K.
Or, was it an R?
She couldn’t tell.
Not that she needed it, anyway—she knew roughly where she was, and where she had to go next.
The thick snow looked like it hadn’t been disturbed for centuries and pulling herself through it had been hard going. So, when they finally reached their destination, Amarah stumbled to the ground in exhaustion.
‘You should have let me fly us,’ Kohl said, sitting down beside her. ‘Much faster.’
Amarah waved a hand at him, too tired to retort. She knew he made a good point, but she never liked relying on anyone, and he’d looked about ready to drop from exhaustion, anyway.
She had to let him carry her down from Oren, and across the sea out of necessity, but now they were on the mainland, she’d resolved to get by on her own as much as possible.
Like always, she’d get herself where she needed.
Amarah loosened her furs a little and gave herself more room to breathe. She sniffed and glanced around, wiping at the snot that dribbled and froze on her upper lip.
So far north, the days were short, and the nights were long, and she doubted they’d reach Tum Metsa while they still had sunlight.
At least under tree cover, the snow wasn’t as deep, and she didn’t sink into it.
Even so, she wished she had Khanna, and wished she’d beaten Jato into the ground…
But the Arillian had been too strong.
It was as Kohl said—Amarah could brawl. But taking on an elite Arillian who had years of training and battlefield experience?
That was a completely different scenario.
Even when she’d been aboard Jato’s warship, with Moroda and Sapora by her side, the only reason she’d managed to hold Aciel off for so long had been due to the element of surprise.
Dragons above, even Sapora hadn’t been able to kill her—though it certainly hadn’t been for lack of trying.
She leaned her scythe against a tree beside her, the blade pointing up to the canopy. It was a fantastic weapon. The best she’d ever used. Probably priceless.
Yet that hadn’t been enough either. Unless…maybe she just wasn’t as good as she’d thought.
Dammit, was she losing her edge?
The wind blew, colder than she liked.
How did she find herself here? Sat on the edge of a forest in the snow, without her ship, having lost an eye. Amarah bit her lip to keep the emotions off her face.
She was done crying.
Khanna.
She’d become who she was on that ship. It was her everything—her home, her work, her life.
Kohl hadn’t known where Jato had flown off to, but Amarah knew it wouldn’t be long before reports of Arillian storms would sweep the country.
Then, she’d track her down and get her own back.
She hoped Traego would come through for her. He’d never let her down before—usually for something in return—but right now, she didn’t have many options.
Amarah scratched her left wrist. Her unblemished skin gave away no indication of the mark she’d carried there since she’d been fourteen. In over twenty years and countless arrests, not a single member of the Imperial Guard had found it.
She smiled to herself. That had been another of Traego’s tricks. So many parts of Samolen magic could be tweaked and moulded to fit a pirates’ use, if you had the knowledge, skill, and patience to form it.
Or just deep pockets.
Of course, her whole plan rested on Traego being this end of Val Sharis.
If he was in Estoria, it could be weeks before he’d get to her, especially with the winter blizzards to navigate.
Traego didn’t often come this far north, and she’d not seen him in years. She’d been out of the loop for so long now and hadn’t visited Estoria in a good few seasons.
Considering the risks in their line of work, it was just as likely that Traego was imprisoned somewhere, or dead.
Failing that, she’d need to get all the way to Estoria herself—on the other side of the world. Kohl certainly wouldn’t be able to fly her the whole way there.
She ran a hand through her hair, thankful that less and less came away every time she touched it.
Amarah had always been an opportunist. She prided herself on it. But even she had to admit it was hard to keep going with the odds stacked against you, and her luck on the turn.
She glanced at Kohl, who seemed sat in quiet contemplation. He was someone she struggled to understand.
Jato belittled him, insulted him, and still he tried to stay on her side, tried to do right by her.
Even when it wasn’t wanted.
Or deserved.
She couldn’t get her head around why he behaved as he did, why he allowed himself to be beaten so low. What kind of leader—or father—let himself be treated like that?
If he’d been a sky pirate, the others would have kicked him out or turned him into their sport.
Amarah wondered how Morgen and Palom were getting on. She’d asked the Ittallan to come with them, but he’d not forgiven Kohl.
She admired his physical strength but wasn’t sure he had the strength of mind to cope with forgiveness and patience.
Amarah had seen another side to Palom’s nature in his raw fury when Anahrik had died.
Come to think of it, following her encounter with Jato, it was probably for the best that Palom hadn’t been with her.
Another cold breeze, from Kohl this time.
She sighed. ‘Might as well get a fire going.’ Amarah leaned forward to rest her arms on her knees. ‘Must be weird for you? Bein’ grounded?’
‘A little,’ he agreed. ‘At least we can see for leagues here.’ Kohl looked out across the fields, the view uninterrupted.
Amarah shrugged and grabbed the bag tied securely around her shoulder. She pulled out a small glass vial—her Samolen magic—un-stoppered it and tipped the dark red liquid onto the ground.
It immediately melted the snow, steam rising as it sizzled.
A few moments longer, and with a small whoomf, the flame emerged.
‘That’s what you cooked with, wasn’t it?’ Kohl asked, intrigued.
She nodded and put the vial back in her back. ‘Little trick from Ranski. Damned Samolen are good for some things, at least.’
Amarah pulled her mittens off and held her hands near the flame. ‘Can be lit pretty much anywhere. Won’t go out until I put it back in the vial. Kept me from freezing to death more than once, let me tell you!’
‘Incredible. No smoke, either?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s good.’
The small, fierce flames quickly warmed her fingers, and she relaxed somewhat.
The Samolen fires had always seemed to calm her.
‘Food?’ She reached into another compartment of the bag and grabbed some of the goat meat the Arillians had wrapped up for her.
Amarah handed Kohl a couple of pieces and started to chew on hers when a lone howl echoed across the ice fields.
She and Kohl glanced at each other.
‘Plenty of snow wolves up here,’ he said. ‘Bears, too.’
She carried on eating. After everything she’d dealt with, a few overgrown dogs wouldn’t give her much cause for concern.
A returning howl called out from somewhere in the trees, followed by another, then another, until a chorus of wolfsong carried in the evening air.
Shivers ran down Amarah’s spine, and she shuffled closer to the fire. ‘Damn…Gives me chills.’
Kohl made to stand up, but Amarah grabbed his sleeve. ‘No point. We’re fine. I’ve got my scythe. You can fly.’
‘True. But I don’t like the idea of being hunted.’
‘Hunted? They could be after deer. Aurochs. Boar. Anything out here that they normally eat.’ She took another bite out of her supper and refused to be afraid.
Kohl drew his cloak around himself, covering his wings.
Aside from the crackle of the flames and distant howling, their small camp was quiet.
Amarah closed her eyes and listened.
She heard footsteps in the snow, dozens of them.
Perhaps they were curious. Wolves were sociable, intelligent animals. They probably just wanted to see who had appeared in their territory.
‘Amarah…’ Kohl whispered.
She opened her eyes and jumped. Though the sun had almost set, she saw movement in the fields before them. Eight wolves, all loping across the snow as though they had winged feet.
Their fur seemed to meld with the ice—a blend of white and grey, red tongues lolling.
Despite her earlier confidence, seeing so many of them crossing the snow unnerved Amarah. She reached for her scythe with one hand, keeping her eye on the wolves as they came towards them.
‘I can…’ Kohl said, raising his hands, the wind picking up.
‘Wait,’ Amarah said. ‘Let’s not…be too hasty.’ Her fingers wrapped around the handle of her scythe, and the familiar buzz of energy coursed through her arm.
Now, she was ready.
The wolves slowed their approach as they drew near.
Thoughts of them simply being curious went out the window when Amarah saw their expressions. There were no playful parks, no wagging of tails.
These wolves were not happy they were there.
They stopped several paces from the fire, and Amarah and Kohl got to their feet.
It had been a long while since Amarah had last been so far north—and she’d been on her ship, at any rate—so she hadn’t realised the true size of the snow wolves. Their shoulders were almost as tall as she was, their bodies at least ten feet long.