Queen of Stars and Shadows (Pathway of the Chosen)

by Cat Bruno

  Half in slumber, Syrsha followed the group to where their horses grazed, tied together around a circle of trees. Flung across their backs were satchels and pouches. Standing just beside the horses was the short-haired Tiannese girl, with nothing but her bow and a small shoulder bag, torn and poorly patched, slashing across her vested chest.

  My army grows by one, Syrsha fretted, gazing upon Liang, who looked much like a young boy. But this one leads to others, she hoped, as she walked toward her gelding. In silence, she untied the reins. Soon, the others were astride as well, and, with a nod, Liang kicked at her thick-legged pony. Around them all, the air buzzed with wardings.

  As they rode on, Syrsha wiped at her face with a bleached cotton square. The blue-black stain of juniper juice darkened the cloth as she erased the rune from her forehead.

  *****

  9

  Between them, the embers of a dying fire crackled, spitting orange chards against blackened stones. In the quarter-moon since they had left Odeena, the two had become fast friends. As Aldric watched, Liang and Syrsha laughed across the fire, although their words were too quiet for him to overhear. The group was just north of the Dasdemona Sea, yet still nearly two moons from the Yoangtsi River, where Liang claimed to have kin.

  From what little Aldric knew of her, he doubted her promises of a skilled and ready army. The girl herself had been sold before escaping to join the Sythians, although he did not doubt that anything could be bought, stolen, or sold along the fabled Merchant Road.

  From Sythia, they had traveled toward the sea before heading directly east. Once free from the lands the Sythians roamed, Aldric had purchased additional horses, which allowed them to cover a greater distance each day, yet still the journey was a lengthy one. A few days past, Otieno had approached him about the necessity of the trip, yet they both had agreed that it was not yet time to return to Cordisia. The girl was only newly blooded, and, even then, her skills unproven. For now, they would allow her another moon year to strengthen, and Tian seemed a worthy haven. Its fame for weaponless fighting was unmatched. Even Otieno was interested to see what the Tiannese masters could teach Syrsha.

  Joining the girls fireside, Aldric asked, “Have you word from Blaidd? Is it still his plan to join us?”

  The laughter ceased as Syrsha answered, “I visited him our first night gone from Sythia and told him some of what occurred. He has decided to stay in the Cove until we journey west.”

  She talked little of her time-walking, but the mage knew that there were several others that Syrsha visited, including her cousin. None asked of her time spent with her father.

  “Aldric,” she said, pulling him from his thoughts, “Blaidd has made a fast friend in the Cove of late, a native of an age to him. This boy claims to know of my mother.”

  “A Covian boy?”

  “Aye.”

  Her eyes shone with fire as she looked up at him, but Aldric glanced away and called for Otieno. When the diauxie was near, Aldric explained what Syrsha had discovered. The Islander smiled, an unusual gesture from the difficult man. Aldric watched as Syrsha’s brow furrowed, for her harsh teacher rarely showed contentment. Her confusion grew when Otieno yelled for Sharron to come from her tent. Gregorr joined as well, and, once he was settled, Otieno spoke.

  “Moons before your birth, your mother came to me in the Cove.”

  “I have heard this tale many times over, Akkachi,” Syrsha grunted.

  Even her interruption did not discourage Otieno, as he continued, “You do not know all of it, for there was something we decided to keep from you.”

  When she would have interrupted again, the Islander raised a hand, silencing her. “Your mother and Sharron birthed a woman’s babe days after I agreed to follow her, a boy who would not have survived had they not been there. The woman and her sister owned the inn where Caryss and the others were staying. Upon our departure, they vowed to turn the inn into a training ground for those seeking skill with bow and sword. On occasion, Aldric wrote to the women and received word back of how they and the babe fared.”

  Syrsha could no longer stay silent as she blurted, “You think the babe is the same who Blaidd has met?”

  Aldric, with a hand toward the diauxie, told her, “Moons ago, I sent word to Asha that Blaidd would be arriving in the Cove. I had not heard back, although we have been long absent from Cossima. But I would not be surprised to hear that Blaze has asked your cousin to train at the inn.”

  “Do they know he is Tribe?” she breathed, leaning forward with unhidden interest.

  Nodding, he explained, “Asha and the boy’s mother Keva can be trusted, for they have proven it twice over, especially when Prince Crispin visited. We owe much to the women.”

  “I know not what you speak of,” Syrsha admitted.

  Aldric exchanged glances with Otieno, who shrugged. It was time, they both knew.

  “For over fifteen moon years, Asha has operated the inn as training school, and many of her charges are older than you, faela. And for those moon years, they have trained as warriors.”

  At the corners of her glass-green eyes, ribbons of black flickered as knowledge came.

  “She is building an army,” Syrsha whispered, loud enough that all heard.

  Before Aldric could agree, she added, “Blaidd said the boy called me kin.”

  “The army waits for you,” Otieno told her, trying to keep his words guarded.

  But Syrsha heard more, as she often did.

  “For me? Why was I not told sooner of this?”

  “It was not safe to travel to the inn while Crispin still lived,” Otieno confessed without pause.

  Beside Syrsha, Liang shuffled, understanding that a new possibility had come about, making their Tiannese destination less likely. Aldric eyed the girl, although she noticed him not as her gaze fell on the girl. Liang’s eyes widened, gray-brown and questioning.

  Calling for her, he asked, “If we were to abandon our plans to find Tian, would you follow or return home?”

  Her face, unlike Syrsha’s, hid nothing.

  “We are not so far from the Tiannese border,” she stuttered.

  “Why do you seek to return to the land where you were sold as if you were nothing more than these mounts that we ride?” he pushed.

  “There are many that would help Syrsha!” she exclaimed, looking again to the girl.

  “Aye, Tian is a large nation with a history of producing fine fighters, but you are nothing to them, some man’s wife is all.”

  Liang’s cheeks blazed red, and Syrsha began to defend her until Otieno silenced them all by demanding that the Tiannese woman answer.

  In a voice filled with fear, and with none of her former confidence, Liang told them, “I did not lie. There is much for all of you to learn from my people. And many who would help the girl for coin or a promise of glory. But my reasons for returning are my own. I have not tried to hide that truth.”

  “We will go no farther east until you speak of those reasons,” Otieno warned.

  After a hesitation and an unsuccessful appeal to Syrsha, Liang stated, “I seek vengeance upon those who sold me, Akkachi.”

  “Was it not your family who arranged for the marriage?” Syrsha interjected.

  With a nod and her softly lashed eyes on Syrsha, Liang explained, “It was my father’s choice, despite my pleas. My mother understood my worries, but she would never speak so.”

  “What is it that you seek to do?” Otieno demanded to know before Syrsha could speak.

  Kicking hard at a splintered log, Liang cried, “I will kill him as my husband nearly did to me!”

  “And what will come of his death? More enemies, no doubt,” Aldric argued. “You would have us ride for nearly two moons so that you can put an arrow through the heart of your father.”

  Silence followed his words, and only the spits and crackles of the fire could be heard. While the fire sang and the others waited, Aldric considered sailing for the Cove. King Delwin would have forgotte
n that Caryss had allies there. With his next thought, he realized that the Tribe might still remember.

  Syrsha muttered, “I would still learn of their hand combat, and it seems foolish to turn back now after so long in travel.”

  “We will think of this overnight, and decide anew in the morning,” Otieno barked, dismissing them.

  Later, Aldric would warn her of trusting too easily, for she was long sheltered, even in exile, and often surrounded only by those who had escaped with her. In truth, Syrsha had little skill in understanding those without the blood of gods, and her shock at being tricked by Makeena had ended in unnecessary death. The mage would admit that the girl had seen much, including her own mother’s murder, but it was always behind the shield of her time-walking. Otieno was not wrong to worry, Aldric knew.

  With no recent word from his Cordisian contacts, including his nephew, who often made little sense in his rambling letters, Aldric feared returning to Cordisia too soon. In the moon years after Caryss’s death, the Crows and Wolves battled without interference from Nox. Rexterra, now under Delwin’s lead, masked its support to the Crows, although, by now, the Tribe must have learned of Delwin’s involvement with the Lightkeepers.

  While the others retired to their tents, Aldric sat alone by the glowing fire, thinking on how much had changed since last they were in Cordisia. War had come, but not the one that he had feared. Delwin had blamed his father’s death, not on Conri, but on his brother and on Willem, his exiled cousin. It was those accusations that allowed him to rule even while Crispin had lived. Outside of the Grand Palace, it was not known that the Tribe had been responsible for King Herrin’s murder. Such a choice had been deliberate by Delwin, for he accomplished twice as much with the lie. His brother remained docile, accepting his role as King in name only, and Cordisians believed themselves safe. The blame fell upon Eirrannia, for the ailing king had died upon its lands.

  Yet Delwin did not attack the North. Instead, he placed new laws in effect that outlawed trade between Eirrannia and the rest of Cordisia, a first step in weakening them until the Royal Army was better prepared for the war that would come. Still, Delwin feared the North, more so after what had occurred there the night they fled. Yet, the prince waited, knowing that the brewing Tribe War would kill off many of his own enemies, while sparing his own men.

  Conri had not disappointed him, as the Wolves killed as many Crows as they could, despite suffering losses of their own. For the last few moon years, the deaths had stopped by command of the Dark God. There was still no peace, but it was not the fight between Wolf and Crow that worried him. It was the fight that would one day come, a god-touched war in which Nox was no longer quiet.

  No one spoke on it, not even Gregorr, who understood more than any what was at stake. Conri was Syrsha’s father, but it was under command of Nox that the girl existed at all. Yet none knew what it was that he wanted from her now that she was a woman grown.

  Aldric was beginning to suspect that the dormant god was waiting for the girl’s full powers to wake before he used her as the weapon he had designed her to be. A weapon against god and man alike, a weapon that would strike against Rexterra. And, later, against the old gods who watched over Cordisia.

  Next to the fading flames and whitening embers, Aldric realized that Nox wanted Cordisia for his own. Syrsha would be both sword and shield, enemy and kin. Mortal and god.

  But he would have to find her first.

  *****

  He had long ago earned the trust of Prince Delwin and his return to the King’s City was greeted with little interrogation. Jarek resumed his duties without incident, yet only he knew how much had changed. Izaak was safely settled at the Academy, and Kennet had offered to write to him of how the boy fared. Even half-mad as the librarian was, Jarek believed he would do so under enough cover that none would know the boy to be his brother.

  Now that he was back home, Jarek had done little but think of ways to free Pietro. He had only spent a moon year imprisoned, although he was not quite free. Instead, Pietro had been forced to work as a palace healer, yet he was under constant guard. It was his skills, which were found to be impressive and necessary, and his father’s coin that kept him alive.

  From what Jarek recalled, Pietro mostly served Delwin’s wife, Assana, who had had a difficult pregnancy. Moon years before, she had given birth to twin sons, with the aid of healer. After the birth, she had bled overmuch and nearly died, yet again Pietro proved to be of great use. Even Delwin could not deny how skilled the healer was. That was nearly five moon years past, yet still he served her and her children and was allowed a small room in Delwin’s quarters.

  However, at least two Queen’s Guards accompanied both Assana and Pietro, making it near impossible for Jarek to approach him unattended. He was only able to leave the palace if granted permission from Delwin, which was rare, although Assana had become notably reliant on the healer. There was talk that Pietro would travel with Assana and the boys on a trip to visit her parents, who owned a vast stretch of land at the Northern edge of Rexterra. It might be his only chance, Jarek figured, even though the group would be well-guarded.

  Striding along the central hallways, Jarek prepared what he might say. He knew little of the healer, although Kennet had told him much of the troubled history between Pietro and Caryss. The day of the battle, Pietro had tried to save Caryss and the others, despite their enmity. Now, fifteen moon years later, Jarek must attempt to return the aid once offered.

  He could only hope that Pietro was still the man who had tried to help him flee on horseback.

  It was nearing midday when he rounded a hallway that was guarded by four Royal Guardsmen. They were nearly twice his age, and Jarek did not recognize any of the four. He was dressed in a light armor, with no leather or chain, for his morning duties had required him to inspect the Third Battalion Armory. It was an easy job, for full-scale conflict still had not been engaged, and Jarek had finished in half the time it took the others, leaving his afternoon free to find the healer.

  Slowing his step as he reached the guardsmen, Jarek angled his body so his Royal Army patches could be seen, especially the five-pointed star that was only bestowed on those who Delwin had personally selected. It had taken Jarek over seven moon years to become entrusted enough by the Prince to merit the badge. On the eve of his eighteenth moon year, Prince Delwin had invited him to dinner. At the end of the meal, and surrounded by the Prince’s most accomplished and trusted advisors, he had given Jarek the honor. None but he knew that his real birthday was not for another two moons, yet it had been necessary to distance himself from the boy he had once been.

  It was Tomasz, and not Jarek, who had become one of Prince Delwin’s most dangerous weapons.

  There had been talk of sending him to join the Crows, but, in the end, Delwin did not want to part with him, not when the throne had come so easily. His weapon, Delwin had figured, was best kept in secret until the real war begun. Jarek had said little during that discussion, but silently celebrated when he knew that he would not have to fight the Wolf Tribe.

  Shaking free of the memory, he called, “Have you seen the King? I have word for him from the armory.”

  His words were lie, yet Jarek had need to walk near to Assana’s rooms so that he could come back later, under the cloak of darkness. While the others slept, he planned on visiting Pietro, not in flesh, for Delwin would hear of his visit. Moon years gone, the Prince did not yet forget what had occurred moon years before.

  Instead, he would time-walk and his trip would be an easier one if he first found the healer’s room.

  With a curt nod, and his eyes on Jarek’s right shoulder, where the gold-threaded, five-pointed star gleamed, a gap-toothed guard answered, “He has not been here all morning. You might do better to check his study.”

  “I’ve been there twice over,” Jarek answered with ease, forcing his words to grow hoarse and strained.

  As they watched, Jarek swayed, falling against the wall and
letting his cheek press into the plush tapestry that hung there. Raising a hand to his mouth, he groaned, the sound gargling up from his stomach.

  “Heyo!” one of the men cried.

  Another rushed toward him, placing an arm around his waist as he grunted, “What has come upon you?”

  Shaking his head, but keeping his trembling fingers in front of his lips, Jarek moaned, “A sickness of some sort I would suspect. My breakfast threatens to come up from my bowels.”

  “Get Assana’s healer!” the gap-toothed guard called.

  Jarek’s eyes remained closed as he continued to wobble, but he heard footsteps and squinted to see where it was that the other guard went. Before the healer could be roused, Jarek steadied himself and stood upright once again.

  “I’ve only recently returned to the King’s City and fear I have brought some sort of sickness with me. I need no healer, but I thank you for the concern. I will spend the rest of the day abed and find King Delwin on the morrow.”

  “Take care to not make the King ill,” the commander scolded as Jarek slowly walked back the way he had come.

  It had been enough, for now he knew which room was Pietro’s, and, later, lying ill in bed, he would visit the healer. And try to convince him to flee to Litusia.

  *****

  “You do not look well.”

  “Coming here has proven to be more difficult than any other place I visit.”

  He did not doubt her words, yet it was her gaze that concerned him, as she seemed different than when last she came. She stood just inside the door and was dressed as he had expected – in fitted men’s leggings and a laced vest. Both were leather-made and well-worn, yet, he realized with a noticeable sigh, blood-free.

  “Why risk such a trip?” he asked.

  In response, she shook her head, causing her long, black tresses to ripple around her. For a moment, the room filled with the scent of fire and ash.

  Jarek had known her forever, although his memories of her birth were not as clear as they should have been. Syrsha had erased the mind-lock her father had placed upon him when she was young. It was her first visit to him at the Grand Palace, and he had nearly run from the room at the sudden appearance of the child. But, just as suddenly, he realized that the girl was time-walking, a skill he had never lost. Within a quarter-hour, she had removed the mind-lock, although a fog covered some memories still.