Gravel crunched under my feet and the path took me deeper into the gardens. They were the most glorious I'd yet seen in the city. They were wild without being chaotic, vibrant with colour. This was the work of a better eye than mine, but that didn't mean that I appreciated it any less, particularly at night, when rising scents compensated for the muting of the colours.
Behind me, the bulk of the house towered up into the night sky. Not for the first time, I tried to picture Quintus living peaceably in such comfortable surroundings. I failed this time, as I had all others before, and wondered just how well I'd really known the man.
It had been Nierev who'd suggested that we take over the house. Quintus had no family to speak of, and ownership would have otherwise fallen to the council. The Tower of Stars was practically uninhabitable, and would be for some time. Furthermore, and much to Arianwyn's chagrin, now the fortress no longer had enchantments to conceal it from peoples' memories, there was every chance the authorities would reclaim it.
With nowhere else to go, this had been a godsend for Arianwyn, Zorya and I. Of those I had lived and fought beside this last week, only we three remained in the city. I was surprised at how sad that made me. I'd become involved in all this following the death of my only friend, and I'd somehow found so many more along the way.
I wondered what Stefan would have said about that. He'd probably laugh, and claim the credit – he'd always had an odd sense of humour. In fact, it would have been interesting to see him and Zorya trade not-quite-insults.
As for Zorya, she was healing; slowly and in a manner I had no hope of understanding, but she was healing. Zorya didn't know it, but I'd returned to the chamber of sentinels beneath the Tower of Stars hoping that Svara would unbend enough to help her. I arrived to find that the chamber was empty, and its occupants long gone. Where they had gone or why they had left I didn't know, and I couldn't help but worry about the answers to those questions. Zorya, in typical blunt form, had told me not to trouble myself, but still Svara and the other sentinels nagged at me.
We'd laid Quintus to rest two days ago. His lifeless body would sleep away the ages in the ancestral vaults of Highvale. His spirit, of course, would have long since fled to Otherworld, and perhaps thence to whatever reward awaited Tressians of stalwart heart. I gazed up at the moon and prayed silently for Ashana to guide his steps. Whatever quarrels the old man and I had shared, he deserved peace.
Few enough of us had gathered to see Quintus on his final journey, but our quality more than compensated for what we lacked in numbers. Arianwyn and Jamar had attended, of course. More surprising was that Calda had delayed her departure from the city to join us. The morbid Tressian hymns were no more to her taste than they were to mine, but no one sang them louder than Calda Cadvar. As far as I knew, she'd never met Quintus but, upon learning of the commander's final battle, she'd wanted to pay respects, warrior to warrior.
Calda was herself in fine fettle, still flush with the joy of victory. Her broken arm might have stopped her from joining the attack on the cathedral, but she'd still found her way to the forefront of Torev's assault. To hear her tell the story, there wasn't a Tressian – wounded or otherwise – who could claim to have matched her deeds. I knew her too well to disbelieve the tale.
Most of those who attended the interment had been Quintus' constables, and it was touching to see how distraught so many of them were at the old man's death. Nierev had been amongst them, her shoulders heavy with the captain's rank she'd so lately inherited.
The city was lucky to have her. Though Nierev hadn't told me the story herself, she'd spent two hours arguing with Karov and Solomon after I'd left on that last fateful journey. In the end, with neither lord prepared to back down, she'd gathered a group of reliable constables, locked both lords in the Pit and brought the rest of the Tressians south by herself. Though she'd never made it into the cathedral proper, Nierev's timely arrival had provided Morecet with much-needed reinforcements and thus, by extension, stopped those of us who fought within from being overwhelmed.
I was still a little mystified by Morecet. After Arianwyn had handed over a small purse of gemstones, he made his farewells. His restless feet were troubling him again, or so he said, and he'd a mind to visit the Hadari Empire now that peace finally seemed a genuine prospect. Several days later, I discovered that the seal he bore – the one granting the bearer the authority of Lord Solomon – had been stolen from the Tower of Dusk a month before he and I had ever met.
Solomon had vanished. Nierev had returned to the Pit to find the grey eternal gone. I wasn't surprised. Solomon must have known there'd be a chance he'd end up back in the gaol, and had clearly drawn plans against that occurrence. At least he hadn't set the other prisoners loose during his escape – an act of spite which I believed well within his ability. I didn't doubt that he'd turn up again. A man who'd spent centuries shaping Tressia's fate wouldn't abandon his dreams so easily. The confusion of rebuilding would give the master puppeteer plenty of strings to pull, and it remained to be seen if anyone would have the wit or courage to stop him. I recalled what Quintus had told me about the destruction of Arianwyn's family. If Solomon was still set on that mad path, then he and I would certainly meet again, sooner or later.
Arianwyn.
She and I had hardly spoken these last few days. She still felt guilty for losing control in the cathedral, and knew how close that one rash act had come to sealing Malgyne's victory. She'd talk about it when she was ready, I was sure, but it was frustrating to watch her carry around that pain. Not that I could easily remove it, not without lies that would quickly destroy whatever regard we shared. Both she and I knew what she'd done, and nothing could change that. All I could do was hope she'd learn from her mistakes and forgive herself. She'd need to. I'd a feeling that the world was not yet done with the line of Trelan.
There were footsteps in the gravel behind me.
"Trouble sleeping?" I asked without turning around.
"Not at all," Arianwyn replied. "I was looking for you."
She padded softly to my side, careful of where she placed her feet. "I don't think I've ever looked at the night sky just for the sake of it. I mean, I've seen it all my life, but I don't think I've ever really looked. The moon is especially beautiful."
I smiled. "That she is."
"What did you say you called her? Ashana?"
"Not exactly. The Evermoon is Ashana's home; she lives there as we live here, and so generous is she that she shares her light, and watches over us to see that we are safe."
Arianwyn thought on that for a moment, or at least seemed to, for she fell silent. "Jamar's gone?" she asked eventually. I knew she'd not felt able to face him.
"He left with my uncle and Calda. Would you believe he has a family at home he never told me of?"
"Perhaps he did, and you didn't listen."
"Sadly, that's a distinct possibility," I agreed, with some embarrassment.
"Is he coming back?"
"He says so, and I'm under strict instructions not to get into any fights while he's gone."
I was determined to follow those instructions, not least because it felt like Jamar's parting bear hug had cracked my ribs.
There was no point putting it off any further. "May a humble foreigner offer some advice?"
Arianwyn bowed her head in mock-seriousness. "Always."
"When I came to this city, I was running away from something I'd done, something that I thought no one would forgive me for. Not only was I wrong about that, but I buried myself away from anyone who could have tried to tell me otherwise. Stefan, Calda, my uncle, Jamar; they all tried to break through the prison I'd made, but of course I knew better." I took a deep breath. "It's taken me six months to free myself, and I'd probably still be in there now if you hadn't come looking for me at the Silverway. Don't repeat my mistakes."
"This isn't the same thing," she said quietly. "You killed a man who destroyed everything he touched. I was arrogant. I overreached, and
I nearly killed us all. I certainly killed Quintus, just as surely as if I'd held the sword."
I shook my head. "Droshna killed Quintus, and Quintus died because he thought you worth saving. Was he so wrong?"
Arianwyn bit her lip. "It's still different."
"I don't disagree, but the lesson remains the same. Don't run and hide; your friends are still your friends, but we can only help if you let us."
Arianwyn sighed. "That's what Zorya keeps telling me. In truth, I came out here to escape this very lecture."
I smiled with relief. "You see? How often have she and I agreed on anything?"
"It's not happened a great deal."
"Besides, I promised Constans that I'd see nothing bad happens to you."
At last, she laughed. "And what's he going to do if you fail to keep that promise?"
"I'd rather not find out," I said wryly. "If anyone could find his way out of Otherworld, it'd be Constans. Anyway, I'd already made myself much the same promise."
She tried and failed to cover a smile. "And, of course, I don't get a say in the matter?"
"Well, a bit. But be warned that if you send me away, I'll just follow you around like those lions of yours. We've become quite friendly these last few days, they and I."
"Are you telling me the great Edric Saran has nothing better to do with his time?" she asked.
"My uncle wants me to stay here as ambassador – a real one this time – but I think I'd like to return home for a time. I've a message I should deliver to Elandra. Alfric never apologised for his actions in life; perhaps the regret he showed in death will mean something." I shrugged. "Either way, it'd be nice to walk amongst my own people. I owe Calda a long explanation, and a longer apology for the way I left. I could even track down Jamar before he comes looking for me. It'd be nice to surprise him for once, rather than the other way around. Perhaps you'd like to come with me?"
"Perhaps I would," she agreed. Then her face twisted. "Karov's asked me to join the council."
That surprised me. "That's... wonderful news."
She shrugged. "He's been incredibly scrupulous since Nierev released him. I'd expected him to punish her, but instead he was the first to suggest she take Quintus' place."
"He's probably afraid Jamar will come back and have that 'talk' with him."
"Perhaps. But I think Karov's been fighting a guilt similar to mine. I don't think he's been so fortunate in the quality of his friends." She favoured me with a brilliant smile.
"Are you going to accept his offer? Of the position, I mean?"
"I don't know. There's a lot of good work to be done. Even with your emperor's generous offer of assistance, rebuilding will take years. But I'm afraid that they want Sidara, not me, and that I'll achieve nothing once they realise the one isn't equal to the other."
She started down towards the gate.
I followed. "Can you still wield the magic?"
"I don't know," Arianwyn replied. "It's been distant ever since the cathedral. To be honest, I'm scared to push too hard."
"Maybe it'll come in its own time."
"Perhaps," she allowed, "but I'll be glad to live without it, at least for a little while."
Apparently that subject was closed. "So what will you do about the council?"
"I asked Zorya what my father would have done," Arianwyn said. "She thought carefully for a moment, and then told me he'd have remained long enough to steal the palace keys. Then he'd have locked the doors with everyone inside and set light to the building. I think she was joking."
"You hope she was joking."
"Maybe just a little."
We came to a halt at the gate. Beneath us, the city stretched away, beautiful in the moonlight. The cathedral aside, few buildings had been marred by Malgyne's occupation. Those scars would be borne by the survivors who slowly returned to the city. Families had been wiped out, and everyone had lost loved ones. What would be done with the cathedral, I didn't know. It was likely they'd pull it down, but who knew? Tressians loved symbols of victory, and victories didn't come much greater than this.
"When will you decide if you're staying?" Arianwyn asked suddenly.
"I don't know. Tomorrow, I suppose. I've wasted the last six months fretting about where I should be. It seems foolish to waste six more."
"Oh." She didn't elaborate.
"And you?" I asked. "When will you decide?"
"Karov wants my answer before the week is out. I'll work it out by then." The wind picked up for a moment and she shivered. "Anyway, it's late and it's cold, I'm going back inside." She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you, Edric, for the advice and the company both. I promise I shan't forget that I have friends, no matter how far away they might be."
There was something odd about how she'd said that, but her face was inscrutable in the moonlight, and in trying to figure it out I missed my chance to reply. One moment she was there and the next she was walking back up towards the house, skirts flowing behind her in the breeze.
I stood staring at the city for a long moment after that. Despite my earlier words, I had no idea what to do next. Should I stay in Tressia as ambassador, or return home to my uncle's court? A man could do a world of good in either position, especially now, but still I could find no appetite for either. Come to that, would I be allowed to pursue anything so mundane? However you looked at it, I'd come to the attention of gods, and that seldom ended well.
The gate creaked, and something caught my eye. Moving closer, I saw a long, oilcloth package tied to its bars. I was sure it hadn't been there earlier, but I didn't see how it could have been left without my noticing. Frowning, I untied the bundle from the gate and unwrapped it with considerable care – for all I knew it could be some lethal parting gift from Solomon.
It was not.
I stared in bewilderment at the sword in my hands. It was not just any sword, but a blade forged from the finest Hadari steel, polished so that it shone in the moonlight. The last time I'd seen that sword, it had been buried in Malgyne's heart and borne away into the Realm of the Dead. How in Ashana's name had it come to me here?
Something rustled as I ran my hands along the sword's length. There was a piece of paper tied around the hilt. This too I unwrapped and discovered a message scrawled in black ink. The penmanship was atrocious, but the words were legible enough.
They read simply, 'Go after her, you daft bastard. C.'
A pair of ravens, startled by my sudden laughter, burst from a nearby hedge. Screwing the paper into a ball, I ran back towards the house, and to whatever the future held.
About the Author
Frequently accused of living in worlds of his own, Matthew now spends his days writing most of them down so others can visit. He lives near Nottingham with his extremely patient wife, and three attention-seeking cats.
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The Tribute
The only light is that which you take with you.
Caught between two warring nations, the village of Rackan has teetered on the brink for generations, its folk eking out a living on the edge of the Contested Lands. Now, a third power has turned its eye upon the helpless villagers. When the moon rises, the demonic whispering ones stalk the streets, spiriting folk away to the court of twisted Jack, lord of cursed Fellhallow.
When her father's pleas to the Tressian army fall upon deaf ears, Mira Torinsal agrees to bring tribute to Lord Jack, and plead with him to spare Rackan and its people. But no one goes to Fellhallow. At least, no one goes there and returns...
A Matter of Belief
"You can end up seeing the world as you want to see it, rather than how it really is."
In the city of Tressia, the last vestiges of Lumestran belief have been all but supplanted by the worship of Sidara, Lady of Light. However, change is no
t welcomed by all.
When a prominent Sidarist is found murdered, suspicion falls upon the outlawed remnants of the Lumestran faith. Sergeant Erika Nierev must catch the killer before the Sidarists take matters into their own hands. But Tressia is a city of secrets – secrets that will not be easily brought out into the light...
Queen of Eventide
"How can you possibly prevail, when even your friends are your enemies?"
Maddie Lincoln returns home to Nottingham, struggling to get to grips with a life that's falling apart. However, her workaday problems quickly fade when she's caught up in a war between the malevolent Dark Lady and her enemies. As the Dark Lady's influence grows, Maddie is pursued across the city and the mysterious realm of Eventide by a sinister Huntsman and his monstrous pack of hollows.Worse, none of Maddie's companions are exactly as they appear, and nor, Maddie learns, is she. Can Maddie discover the truth about the Queen of Eventide before it's too late...?
Light of the Radiant
Arrogance is more dangerous than a sword.
At long last, there is peace between the Tressian Republic and the Hadari Empire. But it is not welcomed by all. Leaders from both realms watch their counterparts with suspicion, expecting the swift return of the centuries-long war. But mortals are not the only ones readying for strife. Deep below the Contested Lands, cultists labour to rouse ancient evils from slumber. In the skies above, the legendary serathi, handmaidens of the Radiant, have at last returned from their self-imposed exile. But why now?
Shadow of the Raven (The Reckoning Book 1) Page 53
