The Light Unleashed

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The Light Unleashed Page 28

by Kim Stokely


  The balcony

  For all to see

  I shiver at the voice. It’s not Kyran’s. Ruahk has something planned and I’m a little worried about what it might be. Without a word, I stride out to the balcony. My mother’s bonfire burns tall and bright. The palace courtyard has cleared out around it, but the Commoners outside the wall still hold vigil. Many sing, I can’t make out the words but the tune is melancholy and beautiful.

  And I know, without a doubt, whatever Ruahk will do is a sign for them, not for the Assembly. He wants them to know he has a plan, and that they’re included in it. I make my way up to the balcony railing. A stiff breeze whips at my dress and hair. The intricate braids Tamra has given me fall out so my copper hair spills down my back. My ring sizzles and cracks with electricity and that power begins to flow through my body as well. In this instant, I feel invincible.

  Behind me, the Assembly murmurs amongst themselves. My eyes are on Kennis’s funeral pyre and the sparks of fire dancing on the wind.

  I turn my attention to the throng gathered beyond the palace walls. “People of Uz!” Even though I don’t shout, my words are amplified and carried on the wind to the crowd. “I have been asked to give the Joint Assembly a demonstration of the power Ruahk has given me. Ruahk wants you to see it as well, so that you will know his love for every one of you and believe that he will fight for us in the coming war. No matter what the Mystics and their army of demons throw at us, know that you will be victorious, if you only believe.”

  I throw my arm over my head and wait. For an awkward moment, nothing happens. Maybe I heard wrong. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to give this demonstration. Then I hear Ruahk’s voice again.

  Believe

  I close my eyes and whisper, “Help my unbelief.”

  A purple lightning bolt shoots from my hand, straight up into the ebony sky, thick and wide as the trunk of a birch tree. I lurch forward and grab the stone railing with my other hand as the beam continues to stream upward. Kyran rushes to my side, wrapping his arm around my waist to give me more support. The torrent of energy gathers itself into a swirling ball of lavender light about a thousand feet above us, so bright, it’s like I’ve created a new sun.

  No. Not me.

  Ruahk. Through me. Because I’ve started to listen to his voice and do what he wants. Not what I want.

  My body collapses as the electricity snaps off from my ring. Kyran supports me so I don’t fall to the ground. The sphere continues to churn, fading from lavender to pure white, I have to squint my eyes to see it. It sounds like a hurricane, pouring rain and wind although the air itself doesn’t move. A mixed reaction comes from the crowd below us. Some gasp and cover their eyes. Others scream and run, terrified at what’s happening.

  The giant orb stops pulsing and whirling. It stops making the tremendous noise as well. The sudden silence is eerie. Even the people go quiet, as if we’re all holding our breath, waiting to see what it will do next.

  With a barely audible pop, it explodes into a shower of a million luminous spheres that rain down on the crowd below. Tears stream down my cheeks at the sheer beauty of it. I can feel the absolute love each tiny light contains and the magnitude of it could break my heart.

  Kyran stumbles backward at the sight, taking me with him. “Magnificent,” he whispers as he regains his balance. The shower of light falls for several more minutes. By the time the last spark fades out, the people have started celebrating. They break out in song, a joyous melody. Flutes and drums soon join in. There’s dancing and laughter.

  The flames from Kennis’ bonfire have lessened, as has my grief. Oh, it still hurts, a heavy ache inside my chest. But this show of love from Ruahk assures me that there is far more to this life than I can touch or feel. Somewhere, my mother’s spirit, or soul, or whatever you want to call the essence that was her, lives on within the incredible love of Ruahk. And that is worth celebrating.

  It is worth fighting for

  I step away from Kyran as the Ruahk’s voice reverberates through me. I watch the scene below me with new eyes. This intertwining of life and death, it will happen whether we believe in something outside of ourselves or not. It is the basic law of this world.

  But there is something bigger than this world and the things, the power, we can gain here. I turn my back on the celebration and face the members of the Joint Assembly. “I don’t care whether you vote to amend the law or not. I will fight against the Mystics and those that rule by fear. It’s why I was brought here. It’s my purpose.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Fire and Water

  Geran stands with his arms crossed, blocking the exit from my rooms. “If you are insisting on going to war, then I am insisting you be fitted for armor.”

  “I agree with your father.” Kyran takes up a position by Geran’s side. “Although I never thought I would say such a thing.”

  I growl in frustration. “It’s hard enough for me to remember how to ride a horse. How am I supposed to keep my balance wearing armor?”

  Both Kyran and my father raise a brow at me, although Kyran’s is the right and my father’s, the left. The corner of Kyran’s mouth lifts as well. “If it is riding a horse you worry about, we can practice in the mornings.”

  My fiancé has a way with horses. If anyone can improve my riding, it will be him. “Fine.” I march over to the tray of rolls Reesa had left earlier and pick one up. “Send in the armorer.”

  I stuff a large piece of roll in my mouth. Anger seems to be the one thing that sparks my appetite. Fortunately, since the show of power at my mother’s funeral, the Elderstone on my ring hasn’t flared up again. It’ll sizzle sometimes, but no random sparks. I shovel in the rest of the confection while the armorer sets down a pile of metal and leather on the couch.

  He’s a big man, broad shouldered and at least four inches taller than me. A stubbly beard covers his chin. He nods a bow. “Your Majesty.”

  I eye him coldly. “Have you made much armor—”

  “Aye,” he interrupts as he grabs a chain mail shirt for me to try on.

  “For women?”

  The silver sheet hovers in front of my chest for a moment before he shrugs. “If you will excuse me for sayin’ so, yer not a wee lass. It should not be too different.”

  My cheeks heat up as I glance down at my chest, then toward Kyran.

  The armorer sniffs. “Aye, well . . . what ye need protecting’s just a bit higher up is all. I can mold the metal to yer body.”

  I grunt a laugh as I slip the shirt over my head. It weighs a ton.

  The big man doesn’t speak as he eyes where it hangs almost to my knees. He steps back and studies me again. “All yer height’s in yer legs. And your torso’s not as wide as a man’s. I can make ye something narrower.”

  “Thank God.” I can barely breathe under the weight of the thing. “Could it be a little shorter, too? I feel like I’m wearing a metal dress.”

  “Did yer father not tell ye that’s what he wanted for ye?” He scratches his beard as if confused.

  My gaze shoots over to Geran and Kyran, who can’t contain their grins. The armorer remains stoic, except for the twinkle in his gray eyes.

  “I’m glad this amuses you.” I try to slip my arms out of the metal shirt, but it gets caught on the linen of the simple Elder-style gown I wear.

  Kyran comes to my rescue. “Let me help.”

  I want to refuse him, but don’t want to rip my dress. “Fine.”

  He leans over to get a closer look at the tangle and whispers, “You are beautiful. No matter what you wear.”

  He pulls the metal free of the gown. Since the day I’d seen the cords that bind us together, my feelings for him have changed. Morphed into something deeper than friendship and physical attraction. He’s been the steady voice of calm in my head, holding me together when grief threatens to overwhelm me. I find that when he’s not with me, I look for him. Since I saw the cords, I realize Kyran is a part of me. A part of my soul.
<
br />   It isn’t until the armorer coughs that I realize I’ve been staring at Kyran and he’s been staring back. We step away from each other and a pink flush colors Kyran’s cheeks as I know it heats mine.

  “Do you think ye’ll be wanting metal over that shirt, or leather?” The armorer holds a sample of each in his hands.

  We discuss the merits of both. Kyran and my father weigh in before I decide on a thick, but flexible, leather overlay.

  The armorer gathers up his materials. “I should have it to ye in a fortnight.”

  “You will have to make is sooner than that, I’m afraid.” Maris stands in the doorway. Naill and Nitza stand behind her. “May we come in, Your Majesty?”

  “Of course.”

  Geran crosses to her. “What news have you heard?”

  “The Mystics have left the foothills of Siddu Morrigan and are marching through the Duremeton Forest.”

  My father’s knuckles whiten as he clutches the back of a chair. “How long until they reach the plains?”

  “No more than a week.”

  I try to steady my breath before speaking, hoping it will stop my voice from betraying my fear. “Where will they attack first?”

  Naill shakes his head. “We cannot say for certain yet, but my guess is they head for Cyrene.”

  Kyran groans. “If they take the city, they can block the river and cut off our supplies from the Common Lands.”

  “What about the Plains of Sharne? Would they cross them to get to the Sanctuary?”

  This time Geran answers. “No. There are many protections on the Sanctuary. It would cost them too much to try.”

  “Are you sure it’s still protected?” My stomach somersaults. “Could Javan have removed them?”

  My grandmother’s eyes widen. “Why did we not think of that?”

  “There’s still time.” I turn to Geran. “Quinn could take Goram and Devnet through the passages to the Sanctuary. Goram should be able to repair any damage.”

  “In the meantime, I can send an order to rally our army to Cyrene and the Plains of Sharne.” Naill steps forward. “We have enough men to defend both places.”

  I glance over at the armorer, still holding all his supplies. “You’d better get started this afternoon.”

  He bows. “I will not sleep until it is done.”

  As the old man leaves, I reach out and take Kyran’s hand. “I’d hoped the Mystics would take a little longer before they moved.”

  He kisses my fingertips. “I had prayed it, too. But do not fear. All will be well.”

  I try and absorb some of his confidence. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I have seen the change in you. You have gained much power.”

  “I think I’ve proven more than once how easily I can fail.”

  “You have grown in faith as well. Ruahk will be with you.”

  “Kyran is right.” My father walks around the chair and sits. “You are not the same girl you were.”

  “Indeed,” Maris chimes in.

  “With your permission,” Naill says, bowing, “I will take my leave and continue making preparations.”

  “Of course.”

  Nitza, who had been a quiet observer, moves aside to let Naill go by. “It may not be the right time to mention this, but Noam has arrived.”

  My immediate response is to smile, but it fades quickly when I remember my last conversation with her son. I’m not sure what he thinks of me now, after all that’s happened. “I’ll meet him in the small study. He knows the one.”

  She chuckles. “He is already there, waiting.”

  “Kyran, please come with me.”

  He follows me into the hallway. “What happened between you and your friend?”

  “He tried to warn me against acting on my feelings for Tegan.” The familiar weight of guilt tightens my chest. “If I had only listened to him.”

  “Do not keep blaming yourself for Kennis’s death.”

  But I can. I do.

  I pause outside of the meeting room. “I have to ask a favor.”

  His eyebrows lift in question. “Anything.”

  “I promise, I no longer keep anything secret from you, but Noam has confided something to me. Promise not to read my thoughts. I would hate to betray him because my mind wanders to something it shouldn’t.”

  His eyes narrow for a moment before he nods.

  “Thank you.”

  I take a deep breath, hoping to quell my nerves. Noam had tried to warn me, to stop me. He’d reminded me of all he’d been forced to give up in his life because of Ayden’s rules, and he didn’t have a world depending on his choices. He’d been strong enough . . . would he forgive me for failing to listen to him?

  Noam stands as I enter and take a hesitant step toward him. Kyran closes the door then leans against the wall.

  A tear rolls down Noam’s cheek. “I am so sorry.”

  “You didn’t do anything.”

  He shakes his head as he crosses the room. His gaze darts to Kyran and back to me. “May I embrace you?”

  I let out a choked laugh and pull him into a hug.

  His embrace is strong. “I cannot fathom your pain.”

  “If I’d only had your strength, Kennis would still be alive.”

  “You must not think that, Your Majesty.” He pushes us apart so he can look at me. “I believe Ruahk has worked even this for his purpose.”

  I struggle to catch my breath. “I’m not seeing a reason why my mother had to die.”

  “That, I cannot see yet, either. But if you had not gone to Tegan and fought Braedon’s plan, then we may not have discovered Oded’s betrayal until too late. He may have destroyed the entire Elder army before we went to battle against the Mystics.”

  The truth of his words eases some of the pain in my heart.

  Again his eyes flicker to Kyran before coming to rest on me. They appear solemn. Their brown color hard, like wood. “It does not make your choice right, but it proves that Ruahk has a plan for you. For Ayden. One that the Mystics and the traitors, not even you, will cause to fail.”

  “I hope you’re right. The Mystics are marching even now.”

  His face pales. “Already?”

  I wipe the tears from my face. “Did your mother tell you why I called you here?”

  Noam nods as he moves toward the bench in front of the fireplace. “You wish me to serve on a tribunal of some kind?”

  I sit in one of the chairs and motion for Kyran to join us. “I want to establish a fair court where all three groups are represented. My Uncle Devnet and Simon have worked out guidelines as to how it will be run. I can introduce you to the others on the panel at dinner.”

  Noam stiffens, as if a sudden shock ran through him. He studies me, his brown eyes intense.

  “What is it?”

  After a moment, he whispers, “A premonition, Your Majesty.”

  A chill spreads through my body. “What do you see?”

  “I do not see, only feel . . . another betrayal . . . or loss . . . .”

  “And?”

  “It will be someone close to you.” His gaze is drawn toward Kyran. “You will be called to make a great sacrifice for her. For Ayden.”

  A shadow crosses Kyran’s face, but he nods in assent.

  Noam turns back to me. Although he is looking right at my face, I know he does not see me. “When the battle comes, Alystrine, in whom will you put your trust? In your own strength? In your power? Or in in Ruahk? You will be called to stand alone. To make a difficult decision. Your choice will decide the fate of Ayden.”

  I am frozen in his stare, held captive by the power speaking through him. His eyes clear, and I know my friend has returned. I wait to see if he has any more to speak.

  Noam blinks. “I hope, whatever I saw, it was of some use?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  His whole body shudders. “I never do.”

  “You reminded me to put my faith, as shaky as it is, in Ruahk.”


  He wipes a hand across his brow. “That is a good thing for us all to do.”

  The following morning, Tamra wakes me with dark circles under her eyes and a satisfied smile. I’d sent her off the night before to find me a pair of pants for my day of training. Even though she’d been scandalized by the thought of a woman wearing pants, she’d apparently found something she deemed appropriate.

  “Here you are, Your Majesty.” She holds up a pair of woolen pants. “I know a stable boy only slightly taller than yourself.” A grin spreads across her face. “Once I convinced him his sacrifice was for his queen, he was more than willing to oblige.”

  She helps me slip on the pants and a shirt then hands me a long tunic made of leather.

  “What’s this?”

  “It is from the blacksmith. He says all the soldiers wear one under their chain mail and, if you wear it now . . . well . . . you might still be seen as wearing a dress.”

  The tunic is heavy, but supple. It slides over my head and down my body like a warm blanket. Tamra ties the straps at my waist to keep it in place, but the sides are left open to let a soldier . . . like me . . . easily ride.

  I eat a hearty breakfast while she experiments on a hairstyle that will stay out of my eyes while I train. Kyran arrives as Tamra pins the last of the plaits across the top of my head in a kind of crown. I straighten out my tunic and present myself to him. “What do you think?”

  My cheeks warm at his frank perusal and obvious pleasure. “I think you are a most formidable sight.”

  I spin around to give him the full effect. “You really think so? I’m used to superheroes being dressed in spandex leotards. Not wool and leather.”

  He slips his hands around my waist. “I do not know what those are, but I know you are the most amazing woman I have ever known.”

  It jars me that he sees me as a woman. I still feel like an American teenager, even though that life is fading from my memory. Ayden becomes more real . . . more home . . . every day. I shudder. Am I ready to lead an army? To rule this world?

 

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