Karin Reyna began the chant that followed him into waking.
“Landkist,” he said.
“Ember,” they answered.
And on it went.
Kole woke and found that he was alone. He enjoyed his first true feeling of clarity in what felt like a month and listened to the sound of the rain as it pattered on the open sill. The muffled talk of the guards flitted up from outside. There must have been a break in the clouds, as a soft beam of sunlight streamed in, and he parted the covers to soak it up with his bare feet, sighing as the energy flowed into him.
Slowly, achingly, he stood, and it was then that Iyana announced her presence with the sound of shattering porcelain. He turned and saw her standing on the hardwood in the doorway, her silver hair bound back in a tail. She ran to him, and they embraced. Iyana’s shoulders did not shake, but she left damp imprints in his shirt nonetheless.
“Kole,” she said through tight lips, bright green eyes boring into him as they separated. Those eyes went along with the gifts of the Faeykin, and they could simultaneously entrance, placate and unnerve. It would stand to reason that Kole would be used to their effect by now. He was not.
“What news?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice level. Half-remembered nightmares and the leering face of the Sentinel reared up in is mind.
She hesitated.
“You are back with us,” she said, sighing. “That is good.”
“If that’s the best we have going, I’m not sure I’ll like the rest.”
She eyed him steadily, lips pursed.
“You’re not the only one who’s felt a need to take a stroll through the woods these last days,” she said, accusation barely masked.
Kole’s heart nearly stopped.
“Where is Linn?”
“Everyone’s got it in their minds to save our world,” she said, perhaps a little more biting than she intended. “My sister is the latest. She’s gone north to find one Sage or slay another. And she happened to take most of our best warriors with her.”
Kole swayed unsteadily, and Iyana’s empathetic side took over.
“I think you might like some air,” she said, guiding him by the hand with a grip that was soft and firm.
“Yes,” he said, thoughts reeling.
They stopped at the kennels first to check on Shifa. The hound had improved much more quickly than Kole had, nothing but a hairless patch at one corner of her mouth betrayed her involvement with his flight and ensuing fight. From there, they turned south, moving along Eastlake toward the shore, the threat of storm rumbling in the distance as the rain misted down.
As they walked, Iyana filled him in on all he had missed. The Dark Kind had attacked a final time while he writhed in his tower, but they had been thrown back without much effort. Not long after, word had come from Hearth’s Runners that the northern city was encircled by an army the likes of which the Valley had never before seen. Karin had been dispatched to get a closer look; Tu’Ren was unwilling to send martial aid without knowing the lay of the lands around Last Lake first. Linn’s departure likely played no small part in that decision.
They stopped at the docks and Kole sat on the edge, dipping his bare feet in the water with a pleasant hiss. He knew Iyana’s infinite patience had stretched farther than it had any right to. He had to speak with Ninyeva, Doh’Rah and Tu’Ren before long. But for now, they enjoyed the salt breeze and watched the sun dip behind the black ridges as the dark clouds overhead claimed the sky.
“Did she say anything?” Kole asked. “Before she left.”
“No,” Iyana said. “Though I should have seen it coming. Linn has been quiet lately—more than usual, I mean.”
Kole opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, the words half-formed. Iyana took up the thread anyway, unaware or unconcerned that Kole had not consciously expressed them.
“I know better than to tell you not to blame yourself,” she said. “You know my sister. You know her better than I do, and you know her better than you know me.”
Kole looked at Iyana. There was no accusation in her tone, just a firmness of belief—a statement of things that were.
“What is she trying to do, Kole?”
He swallowed.
“I think she took my words in the Long Hall to heart,” he said, looking back down at the water, which fizzed around his ankles. “Linn has always believed in the power of the White Crest. More than that, she’s believed in his goodness. She thinks he’s alive, and—
“She thinks he’s alive because you told her so. Because you told all of us what you knew to be true.”
Kole merely looked at her, trying not to flinch under that green stare.
“Well?” she asked. “Do you know it to be true?”
“I know what I’ve seen. I know what I feel.”
“And what of the Eastern Dark?” she asked, challenging. “What of our true enemy?”
“A Sage, just like all the rest,” Kole said, voice level. “If he has truly returned, we need to fight him on our own. The White Crest, if he lives, will be no help to us.”
“And you think we can defeat him when another Sage cannot?”
“I do not pretend to know what one Sage or another is capable of,” Kole said. “But I know what the Landkist can do, especially those in this Valley.”
“The Embers, you mean,” Iyana said. “You.”
“Your powers are for mending, Iyana. Mine are for something much different.”
“Guarding—
“Burning.”
There was no arguing with his tone, so Iyana did not. They both looked out on the water for a spell.
“I’ll find her, Iyana,” Kole said after a time.
“I don’t think it makes much difference either way. She has three Embers with her—Larren Holspahr among them—and Baas Taldis. She’s in good company.”
Kole did not look convinced. He did not feel convinced. That black face leered up out of memory, and he pushed it back down.
Dusk fell on a whim and the wind picked up, driving the rain until it had soaked them through. Kole stood and pulled Iyana up next to him, the rain steaming off of him in lazy currents. They walked back toward the shore in silence, watching the fisherman tacking their tarps and stowing their gear. None would venture out onto the water with the skies turning.
There were many Emberfolk at Last Lake, but the folk were a family, tight-knit and protective of their own. As Kole and Iyana walked streets both dirt and cobble, passersby greeted them warmly.
“Seeing is an entirely separate thing from hearing,” Iyana said after one of the elders nearly swooned upon spotting Kole. “They knew you were on the road to recovery, but apparently the words of the Lake’s healers, even a Faeykin like me, are worth little.”
She smirked as she said it, and Kole regarded her with a serious expression. He stopped dead and turned her toward him.
“Thank you,” he said, eyes shining. Iyana smiled, and then the smile dropped, turning to something wrenching and afraid. She nodded and continued on, Kole following after as they traveled the winding roads of Eastlake.
“You know,” he said some time later, “I used to fear the rain, after the fire awoke.”
Iyana looked curious. She touched Kole’s arm, which was bare, the droplets sizzling as they made contact.
“I sometimes wonder if the rain for us feels like burning to you,” he said.
“I don’t think you’d be out in it, if that were the case,” Iyana laughed.
“No,” Kole said, smiling absently. “But I do forget what it feels like to burn.”
Again, the image of the Sentinel’s face was called up, and again he watched it burn away in a torrent of hellfire he had summoned.
They crested the rise, and the crooked, ramshackle tower of the Faey Mother loomed. The blue roof tiles were faded from a mixture of salt and wind, the green paint on the shingles peeling. Some thought it a gaudy, misshapen thing, but to Kole, it oozed warmth and called back to images
of what Sages and Wizards were supposed to be.
“We are both Landkist, Iyana,” Kole said as they neared the porch. “But you were blessed by the Valley, the moss along the streams. You’re a mender, not a killer. You see things in others they cannot.”
“Kole,” she started, but he stopped before the first step and turned to her.
“My blood is a hot river,” he said. “It could run through rock and stone, because it comes from the deep deserts. I have always found it difficult to control—more difficult than the others.”
“Kaya always had trouble,” Iyana offered.
“There’s something in me that’s not in her,” Kole said. He thought that Iyana wanted to say, ‘I know,’ but she didn’t.
“What is it, Kole?” she asked, concerned. “What happened out there, in the woods?”
“I followed a dream. It carried the face of a demon, and one that looked an awful lot like the Sentinels from the deserts Ninyeva spoke about.”
“And you killed it.”
“I burned it until there was nothing left,” Kole said. He felt the thrill all over again, which was quickly supplanted by the shame at having felt it. “It was a power unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It was freeing, and it was frightening.”
They stood under the awning, and Kole held his hand out, palm up under the sloshing gutter. At first, there was the mild hiss that always resulted from a meeting between water and an Ember’s skin, and then his muscles bunched and he coaxed out a kernel of the thrill he had felt before. The sound morphed from a soft hiss to a steady rattle, like summer insects. Then, as the steam curled thick as a gauntlet, it was a sound like a pit of vipers.
“Something in me woke out there in the trees. I don’t think it’s going back to sleep.”
He did not look at the face Iyana made. He did not want to.
The first thing Kole noted upon entering Ninyeva’s tower was the monstrous Everwood blade that leaned against the doorframe. It was almost as tall as Iyana, and only one man could wield it.
“Looks like the Faey Mother already has company,” Iyana said. It was difficult to tell where observation ended and mindreading began with her.
“Dark times,” was all Kole said in reply. His skin had dried completely by the time he had pushed the pine door shut.
“Ironic,” Iyana said, “that such times should hit as we’re entering the Bright Days.”
A shadow passed over Kole’s face and Iyana touched the red scar on his cheek where Linn’s arrow had slashed him.
“I think you’re trying a bit too hard to grow into that scar, Kole Reyna,” she said, somewhere between scolding and sincere.
Kole tried to smile, but they both looked up as the floorboards creaked overhead, a gruff and muffled voice filtering down from the dusty rafters. They moved through the entryway and came to the foot of the stairs. There, a matronly voice cut over the first.
“Shall we?” Iyana asked tentatively.
“All Valley roads lead to Ninyeva,” Kole said with a sigh and a shrug. “Damn whatever the merchants in Hearth say.”
Iyana shivered beside him.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, laying a warm hand on her shoulder.
“What you just said, about roads and Ninyeva—I caught an impression from it.”
“And I’m guessing it wasn’t an overly positive one.”
She hesitated.
“I only hope you know what you’re doing,” she said, green eyes flashing like emeralds.
Kole smiled even as his stomach churned. He started up the stairs and she followed after. The voices had already quieted as the creaking stairwell announced their presence, but Kole still rapped on the oak at the top.
“Come in, Reyna,” Ninyeva said curtly, as if annoyed he had bothered knocking.
The scent of burning sage and citrus assailed their nostrils upon entering. Ninyeva raised her brows at the face he made, stood and moved to open the screen to the balcony, admitting a bit of the wind and rain in, something that had the already dour-looking First Keeper frowning. Tu’Ren floundered as he remembered himself, standing to clap Kole on the shoulder and to share an embrace with Iyana.
“Good to see you on your feet, boy,” Tu’Ren said, the red in his cheeks turning rosy in good humor. “We can agree on that, if nothing else.” His laugh was forced as he looked at Ninyeva.
The Faey Mother was as tired as Kole had ever seen her, her usual warmth dulled.
“You’ve done good work, Iyana Ve’Ran,” she said, stepping forward to look Kole up and down appraisingly. Over the years and by close association, Kole had become somewhat used to the alien quality of Iyana’s eyes, but he could not say the same for her teacher. She was, after all, the oldest of the Emberfolk of the Valley, and the first to be Landkist by it. It stood to reason those eyes held more nuance, and perhaps more potent gifts than any of them knew.
The old woman flashed him a knowing smile and he returned a weaker one.
“Feeling sprite and spry after your jaunt through the woods?” she asked, the joke stinging in more ways than one.
Kole did not answer.
“Good,” she said, taking her seat by the fire. She glanced at Tu’Ren—there was much in the look—and then turned those emeralds on Kole, waiting.
Kole shifted uncomfortably.
“I’m ready to do what needs to be done,” he said.
“And what, pray tell, needs to be done?”
“Well,” Kole started, “I think we can all agree that, whatever it is needs doing, it needs doing in the north. That’s where it’s all come from. We’re just waiting to be buried down here.”
Tu’Ren crossed his arms and issued an unintelligible grunt, but made no move to speak. Ninyeva only smiled a smile of victory.
“That settles that, then,” she said. “Our esteemed First Keeper here feels that we should shut ourselves off from the north and wait out the storm.”
Tu’Ren bristled, but did not rise to the jab.
“This is no storm,” Kole said. “Not one of the World’s making, anyway.”
All eyes turned to him. He did not elaborate, and they did not ask him to.
“Excuse my short manners, Reyna,” Ninyeva said, sounding genuine. “I’m sure Iyana filled you in on the basics?”
He nodded.
“My dreams did the rest, though I hope the truth is not half as dark.”
“Look out the window, Kole,” Ninyeva said. “What do you think? If you told me the Dark Months were in full swing, I’d believe you if I didn’t know it to be a lie. As for your dreams,” she paused, smirking a bit despite the mood, “I think there may be a bit of the Valley in that Ember blood as well.”
Tu’Ren cleared his throat and Ninyeva rolled her eyes.
“Then you know Larren Holspahr, Jenk Ganmeer, Kaya Ferrahl and some others you’re distinctly familiar with have gone north,” he said. “Do you know their intended purpose?”
“I’m guessing they intend to save us all,” Kole said. “How they plan to do that, I don’t know. But I could guess it has to do with finding one Sage or killing another.”
Ninyeva looked about to speak, but Tu’Ren broke in, his tone matching the sky outside.
“You count this a good thing?” he asked with mounting anger. “An aimless quest by some of our best and brightest when their people need them here most of all.” He was speaking to Ninyeva, but now his attention shifted to Kole. “You may be the most naturally-gifted Ember we have, Reyna, and look what happened to you when you tangled with one of the Eastern Dark’s Sentinels. How many more do you suppose are out there?”
“Enough to overwhelm us if we let them continue to build their army,” Kole said evenly. He looked to Ninyeva. “That is what they do, no? If these are the same Sentinels you spoke of from the desert days, then they can turn our own against us.”
Ninyeva nodded, but Tu’Ren was not done.
“How did they not turn you?”
Kole looked to Iyana, w
ho shuffled forward uncertainly. The First Keeper’s mood seemed to calm a bit then, his face coloring now in shame more than anger.
Ninyeva poured herself a cup and bade the younger Landkist sit. They did.
The Faey Mother’s green eyes seemed to glow as she took Kole’s measure, and he felt suddenly like a moth caught in her lantern’s web. The part of him that felt his tricks of light to be marks of true power felt foolish when Ninyeva brought her own power to bear. She held him in thrall, and Iyana swayed from hip to hip, eyes opening and closing as the energy in the room changed.
“You have had dreams, Reyna,” Ninyeva said. Tu’Ren shifted away from her as quietly as he could. “I have as well, and I have traveled their roads and found their ends.” She looked at Tu’Ren and then back at Kole.
“Hearth is besieged,” she said, and Kole’s heart caught in his chest. He had seen it. “Tu’Ren has sent your father to learn the details, but there’s the truth.” She paused. “Be that as it may, your path is to the north, the far north. It was intuition that saw me agree to your desire to make for the peaks, to learn what there was to learn. Perhaps Linn Ve’Ran and the others have forced our hand in a positive light. I felt misgivings about sending you alone with nothing but your own heart to guide you.”
“I had plenty of reasons,” Kole said, though speaking felt like swimming through molasses. He was unable to tear his eyes away from hers, and images from her mind flowed into his. He saw the dark clouds issuing like smoke above the peaks, and in a dark cloister of spurs, he saw the hint of a red-tipped structure that suggested a dark keep.
“Your reasons are not good enough,” she said flatly. “But now, with your friends out on the roads you were set to travel, that might change for the better.”
Now Kole saw images of an entirely different bent, Linn always at the center, and he did not know if these were of his own making or not. Iyana seemed to share them, either feeding off of him or the Faey Mother. She shuddered at their potency.
“The enemy you will face out there,” she continued. “The enemy you did face, and that your friends will face soon enough, is not the same as that we have battled since you were a boy.”
Valley of Embers (The Landkist Saga Book 1) Page 10
