by Kova, Elise
“That is what I have been led to believe,” Sehra affirmed. “Naturally, I have not stepped foot off this continent… nor have I met with anyone from Meru.”
“The traveler you met… she wasn’t from Meru?”
Sehra paused at that question for what felt like a long time. The silence stretched and Vi leaned forward, the anticipation helping the earlier frustrations fade away. She hung on Sehra’s next words, but Vi didn’t know why. Perhaps she just wanted to hunt the woman down and find justice for what she’d done to her.
“I could not tell. She truly seemed a woman of the world—ageless, nameless, one who had seen many things.”
That was utterly unhelpful. Vi relinquished herself to the fact that finding information about a woman who approached Sehra mysteriously years before her birth would be hard to track down. “If you’ve never met anyone from Meru, how do you know all this?”
“Because of this.” Sehra rested her hand on the book she’d retrieved. “It has been passed down in my family for generations and is the only primer I have on Yargen’s magic from the rest of the world.”
“It came from Meru?”
“I don’t know where it came from, but I assume so.”
Vi bit back asking what Sehra did know. Little and less, it seemed, the more questions she asked.
“All right, let’s go back to the power of Yargen itself,” Vi suggested. Asking about the history of it was getting them nowhere. “It’s a magic not based on elements?”
“Indeed. Think of it as all the elements combined—a pure form of power that can be manipulated by the will of those who wield it.”
“I don’t understand…” Vi shook her head, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Sorcery wasn’t overly common in the Empire. One in ten people, likely less, possessed some kind of magic. And those magics were directly linked to a single element. Firebearers could do nothing but manipulate fire—even the affinity of the self required fire to stare into to see the future.
“It will become clearer as you learn, as you master these powers for yourself. We will begin tomorrow afternoon, following your regular lessons.” Sehra stood and Vi followed suit, deeming the conversation finished. “For now, you’ve had a long day. So rest, recover, and we shall start tomorrow.”
“I take it these lessons will be a regular occurrence for us henceforth?”
“Yes, we have already lost enough time. From now until the time you leave, you will spend the hours you would have been training with Jax—those hours, and then some—with me, learning the magic of Yargen.” Sehra paused, looking down at the book that still sat out between the two chairs. “We have lost enough time, indeed,” she whispered, mostly to herself. Then, as she lifted the small tome, handing it to Vi: “I shall lend this copy to you. Perhaps you can get a head start tonight reading what you can of the magic.”
Vi accepted the book mutely, running her fingers along the spine. She was forced to admit that there was something reassuring about having a book involved. For now, she could trust that all her answers were somewhere between the front and back cover. They stepped out onto Sehra’s balcony and the accordion entry to her study folded back in place, melding seamlessly with the wood of the trunk.
“I shall see you tomorrow, princess.” Sehra raised a hand and the doors of the throne room opened.
“Until then.” Vi gave a bow of her head and departed.
She should apologize for her outbursts; her feet almost faltered as she considered doing just that. But they carried her out of the room, and the closing of the heavy doors marked the end of her window of opportunity—for now.
Vi wandered back to her room. She was exhausted and worn down to the bone. So tired that she couldn’t tell if the exhaustion in her eyes was from the strain of keeping them open for so many hours in a row, or if it was the raw emotions still were churning through her, mingling with her spark.
The fatigue kept her silent as the servants attended her. Faceless hands placed themselves on her body, scrubbing everywhere, checking on her leg. Vi allowed herself to be moved along mindlessly until they left her alone in the dark room.
She should sleep.
But her eyes were wide open.
Vi stared at the ceiling, frozen in place, as if the whole day had perched itself on her chest. The visions… her magic… the noru. She squeezed her eyes closed to block them out, but the darkness there was no more forgiving.
No, if she could focus on all of that instead, it would be a blessing. What was really keeping her awake was the lingering feeling of betrayal. When had Sehra told her mother the truth? How long had they kept her here needlessly? Mother above—did Romulin know?
The questions swirled in her mind until Vi was forced to scare them away by lighting the candle at her bedside.
Vi looked to her letter box, slowly opening the top. The book Sehra had given her just barely fit within. She stared at it, competing feelings of contempt, anger, hurt, and… admittedly, curiosity.
“I should hate you,” she whispered. She should hate it for all it represented. It was what had kept her from her family, from her home.
Yet she reached out and took the book into her lap, opening it to the first page.
“‘Words of the Goddess…’” Vi softly read aloud. Her eyes devoured the forward at the beginning of the book. It spoke of the basic principles of words of power. That the goddess—Yargen—had bestowed magic on man through giving the words of divinity to mortals.
By invoking these words, by her holy light, a mortal hand can do her will.
Vi’s eyes lingered on the last line of the page. The whole thing read more like a religious text than a magical one. Sehra had said it was from Meru; perhaps there they had different opinions on magic. Vastly different… given magic in Solaris was feared by the average person.
She flipped the page and let out a soft gasp.
At the top was a glyph.
It was the same sensation Vi had felt when she had first witnessed the shining symbol above her watch during her first vision. Then, it had been a litany of noises she could hear but barely make sense of. This time, the chorus of sound sang in perfect harmony.
She heard the word, felt it in her bones. It was not a language Vi had ever seen—if it was a language at all. The symbol imbued her with a deep understanding that surpassed reading and made sense of the sounds it invoked within her.
“Durroe,” Vi whispered. The word tingled across her skin, as though she was sinking into a warm bath, or lying underneath a hot sun after spending an hour rummaging through the ice house.
She quickly flipped the pages. More symbols were scribed in the chapter for durroe and more sounds filled her mind as she skimmed the glyphs. Her hands stopped at the next chapter.
The symbol here was carefully drawn in red ink. Circles within circles, lines connecting between them, carefully drawn symbols encased among them. The moment her eyes lingered, she was met with the same sensation and then, clarity.
Halleth, to heal.
The lines on the page almost seemed to move, to come to life. It was as if they were begging for her to recreate them—though Vi didn’t know how.
No… what wasn’t quite true. Her breath was loud as she remembered being in her study after her first vision. She’d meant to write down what she’d seen in the flames, but she had drawn one of these symbols instead.
“Which one was it?” The pages slipped through her fingers as she searched, almost frantically.
The symbol above her watch during the first vision was the same that had appeared after the second. It was the same symbol she had sketched on the paper in her study, perfectly from memory—the very same glyph she’d seen swirl around that man.
Her fingers stopped.
“Narro, acts of the mind.” She stared at the glyph for several long breaths. No, she’d been wrong. It wasn’t identical… there was another layer to it. Something wasn’t quite right. Vi flipped the page. “Haath, communication.”
Vi
flipped back and forth several times. The two symbols blurred together, overlapping until something audibly clicked in her mind.
“Narro haath,” Vi whispered aloud again.
The spark surged up her throat to form the words. Magic radiated out from her flesh—not as fire, but as thin, shimmering strands of light. They swirled before her, not quite taking shape.
Warmth rippled across her with the vibration of a voice that she felt as much as heard.
“You again?”
Chapter Thirteen
“What?” Vi looked around quickly, trying to locate the source of the voice. Aptly, the disembodied words were undoubtedly from the same man who had called himself “the voice.”
“How…” He started a question but quickly abandoned it, as if trying to cover his own confusion. “This is different than before.” There was a heavy note to the statement, one Vi couldn’t read. “What magic is this?”
“Wouldn’t I love to know!” Vi wrapped her arms around herself. Every time he spoke it sent tiny ripples across her skin, prickling it into gooseflesh. “You told me to seek you out. Well, I did.” Apparently. She hadn’t exactly planned on this. “So, give me some answers.”
Vi hoped that, whatever connection this was, he couldn’t feel her emotions. Then he’d know that the demand was said with far more confidence than she felt. Outside, she could present all the confidence of the Crown Princess. Inside… Vi felt like a very tired and confused seventeen-year-old girl. But she really did not need anyone else to know that.
“You are not at an apex of fate?”
“I don’t think so. Not unless my bed has become one.”
“Unlikely…” There was a long stretch of silence and Vi seized the opportunity.
“What are the apexes of fate?”
“Places the world changed, or places where it still could be changed. They’re locations where fate was malleable and the future was—is—yet undecided.” His matter-of-factness surprised her. She’d been made aware of so many secrets in the past day, that to find someone willing to tell her the simple, unvarnished truth felt oddly foreign.
“Yes, my bed definitely isn’t one,” Vi muttered. She hadn’t intended him to hear, but a chuckle radiated through to her. So he could hear everything, no matter how softly she said it—a good mental note. Vi cleared her throat, trying to ignore the fact that she was still radiating light and talking to a man in her head. “Why can I only see you at the apexes of fate?”
“Since I am the voice, and you the champion, we are intrinsically linked with the fate of this world. In those places, the distance between us is greatly shortened.”
“Then why can I talk to you here?”
“That same link between us, I would assume,” he said simply.
Vi resisted calling him out on the fact that he sounded as unsure as she felt. She also ignored the voice and champion bit, for now. He hadn’t really answered when she asked in the ruins. So, instead, she asked, “What is your name?”
“My name?”
“Yes, your name. You know mine from the last time we spoke… and, well, seeing as I’m talking to you from my personal quarters in the middle of the night, I think it’s owed.”
He scoffed. “I owe you nothing.”
“Just tell me.” Vi sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Taavin.”
Taavin. It was certainly a name she’d never heard before. Vi swallowed hard, looking down at her hands and watching the light trailing off her skin and disappearing into the darkness like the streaks of fireflies.
This was impossible to comprehend. Less than a week ago, Vi didn’t think she had any magic at all—or at least very little. Now, she wanted a whole lot less magic in her life.
“Do I dare ask if you’re real?”
“I am quite obviously real.” The offense in his voice brought a small smile to her lips. “I should be the one asking you that,” he murmured.
“I’m real too.” Vi sank back into her pillows. Really tired, more like. She stared up at the threads of light that unfurled from her. They looked thinner than they had before. “What’s happening to me, Taavin?”
“That is a question that will take a lifetime to answer.”
“This magic…” Vi paused and he didn’t fill the space with words. Silence stretched as her magic continued to fade. Vi looked down at her hand, nestled in the folds of her blanket. There were only a few threads of light clinging to her.
First, she had made fire. Then light that became fire. Now… this.
“This magic,” Vi continued, stronger. “Is it truly that of Yargen?”
“Yes,” he said solemnly. “When I used the word samasha, you were gifted the ability to understand Yargen’s gifts.”
The word washed over her, and with it the last threads of light left Vi’s body. Taavin sounded as if he had been about to say something, but Vi could no longer sustain the connection; for now, at least, his words would have to remain a mystery. The sounds of night flooded her ears; she hadn’t even realized they’d been muffled. Sehra had been right. The traveler had known Vi would have this power…
There were easily a hundred questions buzzing through Vi’s mind in that moment. But she found herself too exhausted to keep her eyes open a moment longer, let alone consider their answers.
* * *
The moment Vi knocked on the doors and stepped inside Sehra’s throne room, she heard an immediate, “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry.” Vi tried to avoid making excuses. “I slept late, so my lessons started late and I’ve been behind ever since.”
“Do make an effort to start on time, princess, because we have much ground to cover.” Sehra stood from her wood-and-leaf throne, starting over to the secret door that led to the study. “Come, we’ll work in here.”
“I slept late because I was up late reading your book.” Vi held up the small tome as she sat down in the same chair she’d been in yesterday.
“Were you?” Sehra sat as well. “Then perhaps you can give me a short summary on the magic of Yargen.”
“It is a magic the rest of the world has, that also extends beyond the elements. It’s somehow…all elements at once. The magic of Yargen is invoked with words of power.”
“A good, concise summary.” Sehra held out her hand and Vi passed her the book. “We’ll begin with the word I learned first.”
Sehra opened the book, holding it between them. To Vi’s immense relief, the page was not narro. She had no interest in confronting her mysterious friend in front of Sehra.
“Durroe,” Vi read aloud, eyes on the page.
“What?” Sehra looked up at her quickly. “What did you say?”
“Durroe?” she repeated, the word less certain. “I’m sure my pronunciation is off…”
“I’ve never heard it said that way. I pronounced it the way my mother did, and she pronounced it the way her mother did as well.”
“How do you pronounce it?” Vi was forced to ask.
“Darol.” Vi watched as Sehra’s mouth formed the word, making sure that she was hearing exactly what the woman was saying. It was an odd disconnect, because everything she saw in the woman’s moving lips was nothing like what was written on the page.
“Darol,” Vi tried to repeat it, but the word felt clumsy, awkward even. There was no magic hum to it.
“What made you say durroe?” Sehra asked, somewhat cautiously. Much like how Vi felt when she tried to mimic Sehra’s pronunciation, the Chieftain looked strange recreating hers—and slightly missed the mark to Vi’s ears.
“That’s what’s written.” Vi motioned to the page.
“You can read these symbols?”
“Yes…” Vi said cautiously. Sehra leaned back in her chair. The Chieftain’s eyes ran over her, cool and calculating. Vi shifted in her seat, crossing her leg and folding her hands. She waited as long as she could, but at a point was forced to ask, “Can’t you read it?”
“No.” The answer ru
ng in Vi’s ears.
“But… how do you know what it says? Surely you must be able to read it?” Vi looked back to the book. Sure enough, durroe was still quite clearly written on the page to Vi’s eyes. She didn’t see how the symbols could be read as anything else.
“I told you, I learned from my mother, and she from hers. But what I did not tell you was that none of us could read these strange glyphs.”
“You do see the circles and lines, then?” Vi asked cautiously.
“I do.” Sehra thought a moment. “How did you come up with the word?”
“I don’t know,” Vi confessed, hoping Sehra believed that she wasn’t attempting to dodge the question—which, for once, she wasn’t. “I see it and I… I hear sounds? I see words? No, not quite… it’s as though the shape moves before my eyes and by the time it’s finished, it looks nothing like what I saw at first but somewhere in its shifting I see the meaning and know how it should be said.”
Sehra tapped the armrest of her chair, thrumming her fingers along its edge in quick succession. “I have no such sensation,” she said finally.
“I’m not lying,” Vi said hastily.
“I know you’re not.”
“How?”
“Grandmother said that her great grandmother could derive meaning from these symbols. But I never believed it, nor did my mother, for all we saw were the strange circles and spirals. But you… you can read it?”
“I… I think I can? I can’t say for sure I’m right…” Vi looked back to the page and then, as slowly as she dragged her eyes away from it, looked to Sehra. “What does it mean, that I can read it?” Read still seemed a generous term for the sensations Vi experienced when looking at the page. Perhaps it had something to do with Taavin’s word giving her an “understanding.”
“I cannot say yet. But I do think it will expedite your studies.”
“Good… because all I care about is controlling my magic and keeping it hidden,” Vi emphasized. There couldn’t be any incidents like the one in the jungle with her fire getting away from her… or randomly glowing. Sehra gave her a hard look. “I mean no offense,” Vi added hastily. “I don’t want to keep it hidden because of…”
