by Matthew Ward
A hundred silver trumpets blared a fanfare. Orvyn Tyren, High Priest of Ashana, began the long, slow ascent of the stairway. Tyren's hands shook as he climbed. He was nervous, no doubt. His was a recent elevation, for his predecessor had perished in the same fires that had claimed my uncle. The circlet he bore was no less new, for the old had yet to be discovered amongst the ruins of the palace.
Arianwyn took my right hand and squeezed it. She knew how much I dreaded what was to come, but understood its inevitability. I might have prevented this fate had I acted differently, but those choices were long behind me. Now we had to deal with things as they were, and the coronation was part of that.
At least Arianwyn was mostly herself again. The Radiant was still within her, we both knew that, but the goddess had rarely surfaced in these past weeks. Astarra carried her own sorrows and, in our first conversation since Skyhaven, she'd humbly begged my forgiveness for the horror wrought in her name.
Unfortunately, there was still no way to predict when the transition would occur, and that had brought a certain wariness into our relationship. Another man might have been resentful. I didn't care. My beloved was fortunate to be alive and sane after what she'd endured. That she was sometimes not herself was a price I gladly paid.
The trumpets sounded again as Tyren reached the top of the stair. He addressed the assemblage, but his words were swept away by the cheering of the crowds. There was a form and ceremony to the coronation, of course, but no one enforced it. The people rejoiced unrestrained as a new era began.
Tyren turned his back on the crowds once more, and advanced steadily along the rich green carpet leading to the throne. On either side, the elite of the Hadari royal guard watched him pass, their faces expressionless, their golden armour gleaming like fire under the light of torch and moon.
Jamar was amongst them, I was sure, though I couldn't see his face. I hadn't spoken to him since my rebirth, though not for lack of trying. The havildar had avoided me, and I knew why. Jamar blamed me for what had happened to Tregard, and for the death of the Emperor. I could find no fault with him. Had I been quicker, stronger, cleverer, or had not sought out Arianwyn before confronting Azyra, perhaps the Light of the Radiant would not have been unleashed and Eirac would be alive. I'd done my best, overcome tremendous odds, but had failed. I hoped time would heal the wound between us, for the thought of going without the havildar's friendship hurt me deeply. But for now, the situation was as it was.
A third and final clarion stirred me from my thoughts. Tyren had at last reached the throne. He held the circlet high, the sleeves of the priest's robes slipped back to reveal his scrawny arms. The crowd fell silent with anticipation. Tyren held his pose a moment longer, perhaps savouring a moment of control over so many. Then he lowered the crown, and placed it reverently on the head bowed before him.
As one, the crowd cheered.
Thus did Calda Cadvar, my oldest friend, usurp my throne.
"I still can't believe the bitch went through with it," Torev muttered blackly, scratching at his beard.
"Master, we are striving not to draw attention." The reprimand in Emmeline's voice was obvious, and Torev – for once – subsided without further comment.
The paladin and his squire were hooded and cloaked, just as Arianwyn and I were. It rankled Torev to be so disguised, but Emmeline seemed glad of the anonymity. She looked much better than when I'd last seen her, though I suppose that wasn't much of a standard by which to measure. Whatever Elspeth had done for the squire had worked wonders. A month ago, Emmeline had been all but in the grave. Now, she bore not so much as a scratch. Her eyes held the same restlessness as mine, and I wondered if she'd yet come to terms with her miraculous recovery.
It was a poor time to be a Tressian in the Empire, but Torev and Emmeline had accompanied me nonetheless – not out of duty, but out of friendship. We watched events from deep within the crowd, trusting to the press of bodies and revelry to keep us from drawing attention. Emmeline was quite correct, however. There were limits.
"She's doing what she thinks is right." I ignored the incredulous look those words drew from Arianwyn. I'd no anger left, not now, and I didn't want to discuss the matter.
I'd slept for a day after Azyra's defeat. Upon waking, the first thing I'd done was ask one of the serathi to carry me to Tregard. There I found the survivors on the cusp of anarchy, but through a combination of cajoling and shouting – as well as the support of the few surviving royal guardsmen who recognised me – I pulled the situation back from the brink. Before sunset that day, some semblance of order had been restored, and I'd had my first taste of what I thought my future held.
All that had changed the next day. Calda had ridden long and hard to reach the blighted city so quickly, and at first I was pleased to see her. But what I'd hoped would be an opportunity to mend things between us had soon turned sour. Calda had always possessed a hardness to her nature – she couldn't have risen so far without it – but it had always been softened by a ready wit and a spirit as generous as any I'd ever known. I saw no such kindness that day. Her first act upon catching sight of me was to order me imprisoned.
That night I was held captive in a farmhouse on the edge of Tregard. My guards treated me civilly enough – some even seemed embarrassed at the situation and took care to ensure that all my needs, save freedom, were met. Jamar had warned me that Calda had changed, but I'd never dreamed things between us could have grown so bad. She hadn't even looked like the woman I'd known so long. She seemed restless and haunted, and her eyes were cold.
The next morning I was brought before what was left of the Golden Court. Calda had icily recounted what she saw as my crimes: consorting with enemies both mortal and immortal, and abandoning my people for my own selfish interests. I argued as best I could, but there were too many truths amongst the lies, and Calda made vicious use of them.
Had I any supporters amongst the court, I could perhaps have prevailed, but what supporters I'd possessed had also been Eirac's closest aides, and they were all dead. I'd stared at Calda's face, and at those of the warchiefs assembled around her, and had known there and then that it was a fight I could not win. Not then, and maybe not ever.
She could have killed me, then and there, could Calda; executed me for my perceived treasons. Instead, she banished me from the land of my fathers. Watching her now, as she rose from the throne to address the adoring masses, I still wasn't sure whether exile had been intended as a kindness, or a further humiliation. Was there any longer anything left of the woman who'd been my friend for most of my life? I didn't know.
"We should go," Arianwyn suggested quietly. "You've seen what you came to see."
"You're right." Like Torev, I couldn't believe Calda had gone through with it. Had I not been there to witness with my own eyes, the doubt would have remained. Now I'd certainty to shape my actions, but the sight was a dagger in my heart.
We shouldered our way back through the rejoicing crowds, our hands never far from our weapons. I was forbidden to be here, under pain of death, and I couldn't imagine my companions would fare much better were they discovered. Fighting our way clear would be almost entirely hopeless were we discovered, but having a weapon at hand was always reassuring.
I again wore my father's sword, as I had almost every day for the past year. Zorya had recovered it from the wreckage of the Farsight, and had presented it to me as I departed. With Adanika's passing, she ruled Skyhaven – at least for now. Her first command had been to remove the city from the heavens. It was too easy, she had judged, to treat others as inferiors when you looked down on them from such a great height. Skyhaven roamed the clouds no longer, but lay in the deep waters some miles off the northern coast, roughly in line with the border between the Republic and the Empire. I think Adanika would have been pleased.
Zorya was still on Skyhaven, fulfilling the duties of a serathiel. So far, it seemed as though the days of conflict between the Radiant's daughters were over, and I wished them e
very success at healing the wounds of the past. Some two hundred serathi and nearly twice as many sentinels had perished during the fighting on Skyhaven, and the survivors deserved a little peace. I wasn't sure what was to become of the drudges, but I doubted Zorya would countenance any more being created.
Koschai too had remained behind on the newly created island. While he no longer believed that he would die if he left, the Tressian was in no hurry to test that theory. There was little for him back home, and as Arianwyn and Zorya were his only surviving family, he'd little reason to leave. Koschai remained desperately unhappy that he'd delivered Azyra the means to kill so many. I couldn't find it in myself to forgive him, but for Arianwyn's sake I tried. I told myself that the mad serathiel would have found another way, but those words rang hollow.
At least Koschai no longer had to worry about being attacked by revenants. When the Radiant had awoken, the doors to Otherworld had slammed shut again. It was hard to say if such a thing was permanent, but four weeks on, there was still nary a sight of a skull helm on the island. Just to be sure, Arianwyn had left Jaspyr and Fredrik behind to keep a constant watch on him.
As I followed Torev through the crowds, I ran my fingers over my sword's hilt. Were my ancestors watching me now? Part of me hoped they weren't. Despite my outward calm, I was deeply ashamed that I'd allowed Calda to usurp me, not least because I was sure she'd lead my people into ruin. The rest of me, however, would have given much to speak with my father. At my urging, Arianwyn had tried to unlock the secret of the sword, but had met with no success. It was of little surprise. Her magic was the Radiant's legacy, whilst that of the sword had sprung from Ashana's touch. Elspeth could have done it, but she was gone, and the sword was not the only puzzle she'd left in her wake.
I'd spoken to no one, not even Arianwyn, of Elspeth's words at the stepping gate. There, she'd implied that her help was given in payment of a debt, and it was there, the word spoken so softly that no one other than I could have heard, that she called me 'brother'. In the chaos that followed, I'd forgotten – or rather had convinced myself I'd misheard it – but it had come flooding back when Adanika had spoken of my 'proud heritage'.
I didn't know what to think – and I didn't want to speak of it for fear of sounding a fool – but it was clear that there was more to my bloodline than I knew, and I was determined to uncover the truth of it.
"So what happens now?" asked Torev, skirting a raucous group of hopelessly drunk soldiers.
"Now, you and Emmeline return to Tressia," I replied, 'and I suppose Arianwyn and I will return to Skyhaven."
"You could always come back to Tressia," Torev rejoined, with a twinkle in his eye.
"Thank you for the offer," said Arianwyn. "But as things stand, I don't think Edric and I are any more welcome in Tressia than here."
Torev grunted. "Solomon, you mean?"
The paladin spoke of an unforeseen consequence of defeating Azyra. Karov had warned he would pay a personal price for what had come to pass, and so he had.
According to Torev, the lord had been accused of treason, stripped of his rank and readied to stand trial. And then he'd vanished. Some blamed the serathi, others thought it the work of Hadari spies. For a week, the council had been consumed by claim and counter claim as its factions sought advantage. And then, like the snake he was, Solomon had slithered back into power.
Torev hadn't been able to explain how the grey eternal had done it, but then he didn't need to. Solomon's weapons would be the same as they'd ever been: bribery, blackmail, intimidation and assassination. What else could have persuaded so many to forget his crimes? What else could have explained how swiftly his dissenters had disappeared? Tressia now lay in the grip of a scheming tyrant, and it was of little comfort to know that, in his own twisted way, Solomon only wanted what was best for his people.
"Will he be a problem for you?" I asked.
The paladin laughed, but subsided at Emmeline's icy blue stare. "He's welcome to come to Northwatch any time he wishes, and that will be an interesting day."
I smiled. "He's a dangerous man."
The paladin roared with laughter, and clapped me hard on the shoulder. "So am I, Edric. Be grateful I've never had reason to show you the truth of that."
"You could come with us?" Emmeline suggested. "Even with the new recruits, there's plenty of room. Northwatch is a large fortress."
"New recruits?" Arianwyn asked, deadpan. "Edrevor, I do hope you've not been leading more daughters of nobility astray."
"Sadly, no," the paladin replied with a grin. "But I could hardly abandon those lads and lasses Edric left at the stepping gate, could I? Think of the example Solomon would have made of them. They're much safer and happier with us. Nierev even helped me smuggle their families out. She's wasted in the constabulary, that one."
"You should have told her that," Arianwyn suggested.
"I did," Torev asserted. "She hit me."
I stared at him for a moment, unsure whether or not he was telling the truth. I decided I didn't want to know.
We gave another cluster of drunken soldiers a wide berth, but clearly one not wide enough. One of their number, his interest peaked by too much mead, staggered into our path and pointed an unsteady finger.
"Where you goin'?" he asked, the lamentable pronunciation matched only by his slovenly appearance. Celebration or no, I doubted he'd fare well if his warchief caught sight of him.
"We travelled hard to get here," I said. "We're retiring to take rest."
"I understan'." The drunkard nodded a touch more vigorously than was necessary. "One las' toast to the Empress before you go?" He proffered a stone bottle.
I scowled. I'd no wish to toast my usurper.
"No thank you," Emmeline replied, speaking the Imperial tongue somewhat better than I did.
"I inshi... I insist." He brandished the bottle again.
Torev's patience finally wore out. "Get out of our way!" he ordered in execrable Imperial, and pushed past.
Unfortunately, the drunk refused to bear the twin assaults on his dignity, and his Empress. He planted himself in front of the paladin, and launched into a stream of broken invective. Torev tried to push him aside again. This, it seemed, was the last straw.
"Spies!" the drunk shouted. "That's it! You're spies!
He wasn't technically correct, but he was close enough to make things difficult. Too many eyes were already looking our way, including a trio of heavily armoured royal guardsmen. I knew a dozen ways one of us could have silenced him, but nothing would have confirmed the drunk's wild accusations quicker than his collapse.
The problem was solved when a much larger man pushed straight past me and closed in on the drunk. For his part, the drunk was delighted that at last someone was listening to him.
"Spies!" he exclaimed excitedly, "an' I caught them."
"They're not spies," said the big man callously, "and you're a fool. Get out of my sight."
For a moment, the drunk looked prepared to press the issue, but even in his cups he saw that the other man was not someone with whom to be trifled. With a muttered curse, he staggered hastily away, and vanished into the crowds. Ahead, the three royal guards plainly decided we were no longer of interest, and set off the way they'd come.
"I've been following you," Jamar explained curtly. "You blend in like cows in a stable."
"Thank you." I smiled. "We..."
"I suggest you leave, and quickly, before you pick a real fight." Without another word, Jamar turned his back on us and walked away.
The smile faded from my face. "Is this how it is, then? Even now, you won't talk to me?"
Jamar stopped in his tracks, but said nothing.
"I'm sorry I failed you, Jamar. I don't know what else to say."
The havildar's shoulders fell a fraction of an inch. "Is that what you think this is about?"
"I..."
Arianwyn hushed me. Then she walked across to Jamar and laid a hand lightly on his arm. "It wasn't your
fault either, Jamar."
At last, Jamar turned around. With surprising grace, he lifted Arianwyn's hand, and gently kissed her fingers. "I will never believe that, savim," he said quietly, "but I thank you for saying so."
For a moment, the havildar said nothing, then he released Arianwyn's hand and walked towards me. "We were so close. But there were too many in our way. I kept thinking that you'd have found a way through, had you been there." He shook his head. "You don't need to apologise, not to me. You didn't fail me. I failed you."
I'd been right, but I'd also been wrong. Jamar had been avoiding me, but not for the reason I'd thought. He wasn't angry with me, he was ashamed. I found the notion ridiculous, but didn't say so. It was clearly important to Jamar, and that was what mattered.
I flung my arms around him. "You have never failed me Jamar, not once. We're mortals, meddling in the affairs of gods. Some things are simply beyond us." I stepped back. "You've watched over us this far, will you not see us the rest of the way?"
At last, Jamar smiled. It was a small gesture, but it was a start. "Very well, but only on the condition that Torev remains silent. He couldn't sound more like a foreigner if he tried."
Torev scowled, but thankfully said nothing.
The remainder of the walk passed uneventfully, and in silence. It was, however, a companionable quiet, and I reflected that whatever ill-luck had plagued me recently, I was at least fortunate in my friends. I'd lost an Empire, and had gained precious little to show for that loss, but I was not alone. How had Elspeth put it? He's never alone, not while there's a moon in the sky. As we reached the edge of the valley, far away from prying eyes and ears, I decided it was time to test that.
We said our farewells there, the five of us. Arianwyn and I would head north to the coast where Elynna and her sisters awaited us. Torev and Emmeline would head west to Tressia, and Jamar would remain in the Empire. No amount of pleading on my part would convince the havildar to leave with us, for he judged it his duty to keep watch over Calda, and do what he could to stop her becoming as tyrannical a ruler as my brother.
