She had sent Thomas, the youngest of her messengers, to Mokvar to keep watch over the harbor. General Corax had scheduled the declaration of war to be sent at dawn this next morning, but Azera had suspected him of having different plans.
“Yesterday, Your Highness,” Thomas answered. “I came as soon as they left.”
He sounded sorry, apologetic, but it was far from his fault. Thomas had just told her about that envoy in regal uniform guarded by two brawny-looking men he had seen arrive in Mokvar. They had taken one of the smaller galleys. Thomas had overheard them talk to the ship’s crew. These men were headed to Galies on military business, and Thomas had immediately made his way back to Bravoure City to report to the monarch.
Azera was furious. She dismissed Thomas and called for her guards.
“Get me General Corax at once,” she shouted with a booming voice.
The guards, a little surprised, headed down the hallway. They marched to the set of stairs that led to the barracks and disappeared around the corner.
Azera waited for a long time. Longer than usual. She peeked outside the door, only to see General Corax marching to the Chamber of Choices accompanied by six of his men. He gave them a signal to wait and stepped into the room, leaving the door open wide.
“Why this display of intimidation, William?” Azera asked. Her tone was sharp. Her apprehension was adequately concealed.
General Corax smiled. “Just in case you’ve finally decided to discharge me.”
Azera decided to go straight to the point. “Explain yourself. Why am I hearing that a galley with my envoy is on its way to Galies as we speak?”
William faked confusion. “I’m not sure what you—”
“Don’t. Tell me what’s going on. You’ve been going behind my back for years, so just tell me what’s going on for once.”
“And you wake up just now?” William snickered. One click of his fingers and the six guards outside entered the room.
There was someone else with them, a mysterious man cloaked underneath a dark purple robe. Azera had never seen this man before. He inspired nothing good, and fear began to clutch her heart.
Azera raised her chin, her long neck showing all of her pale skin and the lump that gathered in her throat. She was surrounded. She had no way out, no escape.
“You said you’d wait seven days,” Azera accused.
“I lied.” William retained his vile smile. Azera’s incredulous gaze made William laugh. “And you’re surprised?” He scoffed. “Oh, poor crippled condor in her Castle of Gold finally gets the reality of life.”
Azera’s composure slowly crumbled. The stern expression on her face decomposed. She was furious, shocked, but most of all, afraid. General Corax set his guards on her. Two grabbed her by her arms, the others brandished their swords.
“Guards, please confine Azera Condor to her quarters while I figure out what to do with her,” Corax ordered. “No need for her Majesty to get in the way.”
Azera yelped. She screamed, called for help. No one answered.
“This is madness!” she cried at Corax. “The people will rally in the streets when they hear about this. We’ll lose the entire city before we go to war!”
Corax laughed. He marched straight to Azera and caught her by the neck, pressing his palm against her delicate skin. “A pack of wolves is easy to kill, Azera. You just need a good dose of wolfsbane.”
He released his grasp with a peel of sinister laughter. What in Hell was he planning? Azera felt the cold flare of dread spike in her blood. The six guards took her out of the Chamber of Choices, closing the door behind them.
General Corax kept his eyes on the scene, rejoicing that Azera Condor was now finally out of his way.
Silence settled in the room, and the robed man uncowled his face. He was young, with short brown hair and hazel eyes. He bore a wicked smirk while looking at the general.
“She believed it,” he observed, his voice low and shallow.
Corax sneered. “It’s just a matter of time before the Wolves crawl out of their den. I already have word of mercenary activity in the Underground.”
“Your people were right,” the general added. “It looks like war was damned good bait.”
The robed man did not respond or speak. He simply kept on smiling.
* * *
Cayne rushed out of the southern tunnel. She slipped into a series of pathways that extended from beneath the eastern exit of the sewers into the Azul, all the way to the north of Bravoure City. Trailing behind her was the messenger that had come bearing shocking news. He had to force his legs to follow him to keep up with her. She had so much rage boiling in her blood that her head started to fume.
They made it into the tunnel that led straight to the Gold Monk’s speakeasy, where complots were made and insurgents met. By a large table made of marble stone, Jules stood with a map of the city stretched across the tabletop. The map was so large, it drooped from the table’s sides. When he noticed Cayne, he raised his head, meeting her dark brown eyes that had turned into embers.
“Wow, Cayne, what’s up?” he asked. He spotted the messenger, Thomas, who caught up to her. “Bad news?”
Cayne caught herself panting. The side of her chest started to hurt. “Azera...” She could not speak. This was getting way too much to her head.
Jules noticed her distress. He laid his hands on both her arms and looked deep into her eyes. Cayne was in a state of absolute shock. What could possibly have happened? This looked way too personal, especially for Cayne, who was the sturdiest person he knew.
Thomas took a step beside Cayne to get Jules’s attention. “General Corax sent the order,” he explained. “An envoy departed from Mokvar last night.”
Jules’s jaw dropped. “Mokvar?” He frowned. “I thought they were leaving from Sud. Wasn’t a convoy departing at dawn from the castle?”
No one said anything for the next minute. Everyone’s thoughts were whirling round and round in search of something to say.
It was Thomas who spoke first. “The general has captured Her Highness, I think. His guards took her.”
Cayne flinched. Jules noticed it. He motioned for Thomas to leave them alone.
“We have to tell everyone,” Jules said once Thomas was gone. “Most of the clan leaders are here. Their men have gathered in the sewers already. It’s happening, Cayne.”
With a nod, Cayne acknowledged Jules’s words. But something was troubling her. She was not in shock, Jules realized. It was worry that was hiding behind her wall.
“Cayne, tell me what’s going on,” he ordered more than asked.
She inhaled deeply, looking away. “I’m getting Azera out of the castle before we decide to strike. This thing is going to get violent. We need to keep the monarch in a safe place.”
Jules shook his head. “How do you even plan on doing that?” What a crazy idea. It would be impossible to even get near the Castle of Gold. Let alone raid it.
“A diversion. Lure the guards out. Use the tunnels, the sewers, I don't know!”
Jules pointed discretely around at everyone in the room. “You need to come up with a more solid plan if you hope to convince everyone here.”
“Let me worry about that.”
“Who is she to you anyway?” he asked, now more curious than ever. Cayne had a special relationship with the monarch. They often met. Cayne spoke about her a lot like she knew more than what other people knew. Jules had always wondered what sort of bond the two women had.
Cayne peered around to make sure no one was listening. She took a deep breath, ready to admit a truth she had always ignored. “She’s my childhood friend, Jules,” she confessed. “We both grew up in Dalgon. Same school, same district. Until her family moved to the capital and mine...passed.” Cayne fell silent, the echo of her words following her.
“Azera was more than just a friend, wasn’t she?” He knew.
Cayne looked to the ground. Jules had seen right through her. Visions of Azera�
��s smile appeared in her mind. When they were but two young girls who knew nothing of the world. Their night escapades. Their stories. Their first kiss.
Oh, how far they had grown. And how far they had drifted apart.
Jules swallowed, feeling for just a moment a bit of Cayne’s pain. He caressed the side of her arms to soothe her. Though now, he had to tell her what he had been avoiding, more than ever. The threat of the undead was something they needed to consider, to evaluate. Jules disclosed what Ahna had found. The priestess and those strange men in robes who seemed to control the undead somehow. He told her about whoever that god Mort was, and the fact that her suspicions about a cult had turned out to be true. And he told her Ahna was on a desperate quest to find a way to stop it.
“How long do we have?” Cayne asked in a careful tone.
Jules shrugged. “I have no idea. I just know Ahna is taking care of it. I have to believe in her otherwise I’m going to lose my mind.”
“We need to move fast then,” Cayne said. She stared at a fixed point on the wall. “We need to sort this before whatever lurks in eternal night hits us full force. We’ll never be able to fight it if we don’t.”
Jules understood Cayne’s resolve. They had to seize control of the city or gods knew what would happen when the real threat came. He took a deep breath and adopted a devoted stance.
“Rally the clans, Cayne,” he called. “Let’s put an end to this madness.”
Luthan carried in his satchel the Wayfinder. Upon his touch, each facet of the pyramid transformed into a stellar map, with a golden thread lighting the path he needed to take under the stars. Luthan knew the sky by heart, both Terran and Lunar skies. He need not wait for night to navigate with the Wayfinder.
The Item had led him back here, to the gates of Norsika. They opened for him, less cautiously than the last time. Within minutes, he was invited to step into the circular Tower of Ljos, where the Elvenqueen waited for him. Her long silver gown that caressed the white marble sparkled in the morning sunlight.
“I see you’ve returned,” she remarked. Her melodious voice felt like home again. “I take it you were successful in your mission.”
“I’ve come to say goodbye, tante. The Wayfinder is pointing back to Bravoure.”
Mauyra looked sad. The wrinkles by her eyes showed it. Perhaps she had hoped Luthan would stay longer in Fallvale. It was his home, after all. Who would not want to return home and settle down?
“I just have one final favor to ask of you,” Luthan said. He seemed hesitant.
Luthan was someone who never asked for favors and who always did everything on his own. Mauyra smiled, reminiscing on her nephew’s strength and independence.
“Let’s hear it,” she said in a welcoming tone.
“Do the Spires of Arcane Amplification still work?”
“The Academy’s Spires? Yes, they do.” She looked at him with curious eyes.
Luthan proceeded to explain. “Will you grant me access? I need a much more powerful pyrofade to get where I need to.”
“Where do you need to go?” she wondered.
“Dalgon. It's over two weeks’ travel by horse, but I fear that’s too much time. I’ve already been gone for so long.”
The tall elf had no idea what was happening in Bravoure right now. Right before he had left, weeks ago, Cayne had told him about her idea to rally the clans. Luthan had rushed to Fallvale, leaving the band of insurgents behind. It was more than time to return.
“I will inform the Academy,” Mauyra said.
Luthan thanked her. Before he left, he still had one thing left to do. He did not want to leave things with Duncan as they were. If this was his last time in Fallvale, he wanted to make it a good memory. He wanted to give his brother a long-forgotten hug. They had never really seen eye to eye, those two, but Duncan was his brother. And family was everything.
“Luthan,” Mauyra caught his attention. For once in her life, she let her emotions speak louder than logic. “Please come back.” Because Luthan looked puzzled, she continued her train of thought. “I know there’s little I can do to make up for the decision that was made over two hundred years ago, but if you decided to return to Fallvale, you would be welcomed back home.”
Luthan felt his heavy heart deflate, like a deep and buried pain was slowly evaporating. A sense of relief swayed his mind. Here it was, what Luthan had longed for, all this time, and it was just in reach. Home.
“You...” Maurya added, then she hesitated to say the next part. “And your wife,” she finally said. “Meriel will be welcome to stay in Fallvale. Centuries-old feuds should never have had relevance, and they won’t anymore.”
The tall elf stayed in place for a while. Not just because of what his aunt had just said, but the idea of him returning home with his wife was something he realized he had always wanted. Luthan smiled with tears in his eyes. After his quest, he would return to Bravoure City to end this mess once and for all. Then he would set out to find his wife. Wherever she was. Whenever she was. His heart gorged itself with hope. Hope to see her again and to bring her where they both belonged.
9
Sud
The Song Cicada inn had not been hard to find. Once past the northern gates of the city, which were poorly guarded compared to the capital’s, the main road stretched and collided with the Colosseum at the horizon. The higher streets were quiet at night. It had been easy for Ahna to reach Sud’s arena and get to the tavern unseen. As she had walked in the shadow of the massive oval structure of sand marble, built centuries ago, she had heard the distant music and clamor of the southside of Sud, where all-night festivities bustled like they were eternal.
Lucky for Ahna, there was no curfew here. This city was the epicenter of nightlife, and the capital’s City Watch could not take that away from Sud’s citizens. Upon mentioning Berius’s name, the innkeeper had grumbled something inaudible and given her a key. He had not even noticed her, her appearance, because he was, interestingly enough, blind. Ahna had spent but a short night in her Song Cicada room, just long enough to catch the bare minimum of sleep.
Now, the sun shone bright in the sky. The air was warm, warmer than in Bravoure City, and definitely much hotter than all the way in Miggdra. Sud may not have been the capital of Bravoure, but it was most certainly the capital of art and colors. Ahna passed the sandy Road Coliseo that thrived with a massive crowd of people dressed in the traditional Bravan clothing nobody wore anymore. Long togas of a variation of red, blue, and embroidered gold. The woman wore crowns of olive tree branches entwined in their long brown hair. The men wore epaulets of golden palm leaves. Stands of colorful fruits, street food, jewelry, and trinkets were scattered all the way down the road. Looking at the crowd in Sud was like catching a glimpse of the distant past. With the Colosseum and other ancient buildings like the Grand Theatre and the Chapel Varkadia, Sud was the icon of Bravan culture.
Back in the day, Ahna had never really explored this city. The Arena, Sud’s prized jewel, was not something she had wished to endorse. The idea of people battling each other to the death for the crowd’s enjoyment was one she actually found disturbing. Coming from the Dwellunder, where torture was a standard for everything, the promotion of violence was most twisted at best. But now, as she gazed upon this building from a different time, Ahna had to admit its grandeur.
There was a long line of people queuing up to the Arena’s large portcullis. Some people looked like locals, others with darker complexions could be Galiesi. The women with lighter hair and tight corsets were definitely from Vanhaui.
No one noticed Ahna as she quietly examined the people. She leaned against the side of an opposite building, observing the line move. Judging from the large banner above the gate with paintings of two gladiators, there was a fight happening soon. There were even children in the crowd. They were costumed in fake armor and carried wooden swords. Ahna could hear their laughter from where she stood. There were all these different people, though no sign of Thamia
s.
The portcullis opened, and the people were let in. Two guards in official legion apparel, the old term for the Bravan Army, inspected each individual for what appeared to be some sort of brass token. Ahna had noticed some people at the back of the line fiddling with theirs. One educated guess: these were some sort of entrance tokens needed to attend the fights.
Ahna searched around the crowd for some stand or building that would sell these tokens. She knew Thamias was in the Arena somewhere. She just had to get in and look for him. If he was the Arena Champion, he would probably have a special place in this building. Dedicated quarters, garderobe, maybe even an office, if gladiators had offices. Ahna chuckled nervously. What would she find when she found him?
Movement at the side of the building drew Ahna’s attention. That is when she caught a glimpse of it, a wooden door with no knob opening fifty yards away from the main entrance. She had not noticed this door before.
She could not see the face of who came out of the door, but she could definitely see his curly blond mane. Blonder than even Jules’s. He was very tall, had large shoulders, and wore a leather tunic, sandals, and shin guards. Ahna considered all the possibilities of who this man was in an instant in her head. His figure, stature, the fact that he had come out of this backdoor, this man was an Arena fighter. Maybe even one of the two on the banner. And if he was a gladiator, he would definitely know about the golden dragon. Two options presented themselves. Get a brass token and risk getting caught for breaching the dokkalfar ban, or talk to this man and convince him to let her through. Both, huge gambles. Both, her only choices. The man leaned against the wall in the shadow of the door as if he hid from the crowd. Ahna decided to get closer. A few steps further and she noticed the finger-size cigar in his hand. The man brought it to his lips and sucked on it like his life depended on it. He exhaled with a long sigh and looked straight at an approaching Ahna.
“It’s not every day a lady in a cloak walks up to me,” he said in a jocular tone and husky voice. He took another drag of his cigar and blew the smoke in Ahna’s direction.
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