Life

by Rosie Scott

  I chuckled. “I agree.”

  Twenty-two

  62nd of High Star, 427

  Marcus lifted up a giant rectangular stone with barely an effort and settled it perfectly over the separation of two blocks beneath it. On either side of him, other giants were doing the same. Olympia's wall had already been large and imposing, but the giants had orders to double its strength and height. The better part of a moon had gone by with no retaliation from Hammerton, but our army had plans to stay in the mountain city until our reinforcements arrived from Eteri early next year. There would be another battle here. I could feel its promise in the air, even though the night was quiet and peaceful.

  The skies were lavender with early evening, and the chorus of chirping insects rose from the Griswald Forest to the northwest. Visibility from Olympia was high in all directions, but it was worst in the west, where the forest and Border Mounts reached desperately toward each other like doomed lovers. My eyes tended to stick there whenever I would look over the land because I knew that's where the dwarves would launch their eventual attack.

  Hammerton was all too aware of our presence here. Traders, merchants, and civilians continued to travel to Olympia from the western cities within the first few weeks that it was ours. The ones who escaped our scouts and wall guards had undoubtedly delivered the news to Griswald, and the travel time between the two cities was approximately four weeks. By this point, it had been double that. If Griswald was preparing an army, they could be here at any moment. All we could do was prepare.

  Azazel, Cerin, and I all stood in a keep on the westernmost side of Olympia's wall. It was a stout structure built of sturdy stone and round in shape. It had sleeping quarters for guards in its lowest floors, but on the top floor, it had long open windows which allowed ranged soldiers visibility over the land and the opportunity to defend the wall with arrows or bolts. Azazel had been spending most of his free time here. He was as anxious as I was about an impending attack, and if anyone made for a great tower guard, it was him.

  “It's quiet,” Cerin commented, leaning on the window ledge as he gazed toward the forest.

  “Normally that would be peaceful,” Azazel replied, to which Cerin huffed with anxious amusement.

  It was getting so dark that I decided to turn from the window and light the oil lamps on a nearby table with fire magic. An orange glow soon lit up the room, flickering over gray stone and bundles of arrows. Being here reminded me of being with Azazel on the tower in Hazarmaveth. I took note of all the arrows he'd saved up and nudged him playfully when I stood next to him again.

  “I think you need more arrows,” I teased.

  “I keep meaning to make more,” Azazel replied, completely missing my jest.

  “I was joking.”

  Azazel shrugged and smiled at me. “I wasn't.”

  “You make your own arrows?” Cerin asked the archer.

  “Of course,” Azazel replied. “You've seen me mess with them before, I'm sure.”

  “Fixing them, yes,” Cerin said. “Never making them, though.”

  “I don't like surface arrows as much as the ones I made underground,” Azazel admitted. “Most arrows are made with wood shafts here.”

  “What are yours made out of?” I asked him, pulling one of his black arrows out of the quiver at his hip to look at it.

  “Carbon,” Azazel replied. “Less wind drift, easier to straighten. Hence why I have so many left. They last. Carbon is less common on the surface. I recently went to a fletcher here who claimed carbon arrows are many times the cost.”

  “You have the gold for it now,” I reminded him. After taking Olympia, the Sentinels and Seran Renegades alike had divided the spoils of the army here. Because it was a wealthy city, we had more gold than we knew what to do with. I'd been able to order rings for the rest of the Renegades with plenty to spare.

  “I've never had gold of my own before,” Azazel replied, “so I'm reluctant to spend any of it. I mentioned wanting carbon to Cyrus when he came up here one night to visit. He was nice enough to bring a whole cart full of it here a few days ago straight from the mines. I'll make my own, and it won't cost me anything but time.”

  “How often does Cyrus visit you?” I asked curiously. The Sentinel had expressed his interest in Azazel many times before, but he'd always kept his distance until now.

  “Often enough that I realized what was happening,” Azazel replied, lifting an eyebrow at me. “He finally admitted to having a conversation with you about me years ago on our way to Glacia. You could have told him I'm straight and saved him the time and effort.”

  “I honestly didn't know if you were,” I said.

  Azazel shrugged and looked off toward the forest again. “Because it's irrelevant to me anymore, so there's no need to speak of it. I just felt bad telling Cyrus that since he seemed so hopeful and then was disappointed. He's a good man.”

  I almost agreed with that, but the sound of the door opening at the bottom of the keep echoed through its walls. The three of us turned toward the stairs leading down into the tower, waiting to see our visitor.

  “Azazel?” Cyrus.

  “We were just talking about you,” Azazel called back.

  “We? Does that mean Kai's up here with you?” The orange firelight on the wall above the peak of the staircase showed the shadowed outline of two men just before Cyrus appeared with Calder close on his heels.

  “You called?” I said in jest.

  “I'll go lock the door,” Calder offered, to which the Sentinel nodded. As Calder jogged back down the stairs to do just that, I raised my eyebrow at Cyrus.

  “What's going on?”

  “We need to talk.” Cyrus pulled wooden chairs out from desks along the side of the room and put them together to form a small circle. There were only three chairs, but Azazel stayed standing as we sat. When Calder finally rejoined us, he took the edge of a nearby table as his seat. The scent of ferris soon filled the room as he started smoking.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked the Sentinel, as he pulled his dark brown hair from his eyes with an impatient hand.

  “Calder?” Cyrus requested, glancing over at the other man.

  “Uh, yeah. So...” Calder pulled the ferris from his mouth, letting the cigarette hang lazily between two fingers over his raised knee. “A messenger from Hazarmaveth came to see me today. Updated me on their progress.”

  I thought of the assassination contract on Tilda's life. “And?” I asked, a hopeful tinge to my voice.

  “And,” Calder repeated, “Hazarmaveth is now missing two of their best assassins.”

  I cursed under my breath as I met Cyrus's eyes. “That doesn't mean the next will fail,” I offered, looking for optimism.

  “My worry is that she suspects you,” Cyrus replied. “Tilda found out about the soldiers you had in Tal. She sent men there to kick out any Alderi who weren't traders. And there were people there, Kai, who planned on joining the next batch of reinforcements.”

  “How do you know this?” I questioned.

  Calder answered for him. “I had a messenger go through the underground to Silvi to inform the wildlands of our need for intel,” he said. “The beastmen traders are your eyes and ears, love.”

  That was one bit of good news. “Now that Demiz and Hazarmaveth are connected, the trip from the wildlands to Hammerton is short and sweet, Cal. If any soldiers wish to join me, have them travel through the tunnels to the exit right here in the Border Mounts.”

  “It will be done,” Calder agreed, before replacing the cigarette in his mouth.

  “One of the assassins was killed by castle guards,” Cyrus murmured. “The other was tortured and questioned.”

  A sharp pain sliced across my gut as I wondered what intel Tilda could have gathered. “Did she speak?”

  “Spoke a whole lot, from what I hear,” Cyrus replied. “Tilda managed to find one of the few soldiers left who knows illusion magic from your teachings years ago and used them to interrogate
her.” The Sentinel chuckled dryly. “Illusion is still illegal in Eteri, but that didn't keep Tilda from breaking her own rules.”

  “So she knows I'm involved,” I said tersely.

  “No,” Cyrus replied, putting a hand out on my knee to calm me. “Illusion magic made the assassin talk, but that means nothing when she wasn't told who hired her. The assassin has no idea it was me. She probably doesn't even know my name. The underground never much cared for the politics of Eteri. If she said anything at all about you, it would have only been that you helped in the underground's liberation. Because that's all she knows.”

  “But you worry she suspects Kai,” Cerin pointed out.

  “Yes, because the assassins are Alderi, and Kai has a love for them.” Cyrus looked pointedly at both Azazel and Calder.

  “The assassins were Alderi when you and Uriel hired them,” I reasoned.

  “I know,” Cyrus said. “But you know how Tilda is. Her bias blinds her. You two argued many times about the Alderi. She may come to the conclusion it's you simply because of your relationship with the underground.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” I asked him openly.

  Cyrus sighed heavily and looked down between his knees, where his hands were absently fidgeting. “I'll suggest we do the very thing I've wanted to avoid, Kai. Let's get Altan alone. Talk to him. Use illusion magic as a last resort if things don't go well.”

  “Why?” I asked. “What does Altan have to do with Tilda's suspicion?”

  “Tilda already thinks you have something to do with the assassination attempts,” Cyrus began. “Assuming they continue to fail, which we should assume so we can prepare for the worst, she will cut off support to you near the border. I personally think that was always the plan. Regardless, once that day comes, none of the Sentinels will be happy.”

  “Kirek will be overjoyed,” Cerin mumbled.

  “Yes,” Cyrus conceded, “Kirek will be fine with the decision. The rest of us won't be. Even though all the Sentinels work together as equals, we respect the hierarchy. Altan is the first. If the order comes from Tilda to abandon you, it will be up to him to follow it. If he decides to follow you into Chairel, many of the Sentinels will respect that, which will give more time for the assassination attempt to succeed before Tilda even has to find out that her order was disobeyed.”

  “So you want to find out if that's what he'll do,” I said, understanding. “Follow that order or not.”

  “I want to find out more than that,” Cyrus admitted. “Now that I've been charmed, I know what it's like. I know it won't hurt him. Using illusion on Altan will bother me, but I think it's important that we know what we're dealing with.”

  I sighed and leaned back in my chair, frustrated that it had come to this. “Okay. I might have to use more than charm on him depending on how things go. Are you willing to do that?”

  Cyrus nodded, though he appeared regretful. “As long as you don't hurt him, you can do whatever you need.”

  I glanced out of the window to the darkening skies. “Do you know where Altan is now? Lure him to Uriel's place with an offer to buy him dwarven ale.”

  “I'd have to find a keg of it,” Cyrus replied. “But yes, that's a good idea.”

  Calder stood up from the edge of the nearby table. “I'll take care of it. I know the type he likes and where to get it.”

  “What is the cost?” Cyrus asked, pulling a coin purse from his military satchel.

  “Don't worry about it,” Calder replied. “I'll meet you on the way with the ale.” He started to walk off to the stairway.

  “Do you know where Uriel's staying?” I called after him, smiling when Calder spun back around to face me.

  “No.”

  Cyrus turned to Calder and said, “Uriel's staying at the farm just between the river split. The field's still barren from the fires of the takeover.”

  Calder nodded. “I know the one. Fifteen minutes or so southeast of here.”

  “Right,” Cyrus agreed.

  After Calder left, I commented, “I thought Uriel liked his privacy. That farm is in the middle of the district.”

  “Yes, but he likes the way the river creates a backdrop of noise,” Cyrus told me. “It'll be helpful for us tonight if things go badly.”

  “Do you think Altan would get angry enough to cause a scene?” Cerin questioned.

  “I honestly don't know,” Cyrus replied.

  “We've seen him get angry,” I reminded Cerin, thinking of Altan's outburst in Tal.

  The skies over Olympia were black and twinkling with stars by the time our group traveled together to Uriel's lodgings. Uriel was waiting for us there, while Cyrus, the Seran Renegades, and Calder went with Altan. The Sentinel was in a great mood and chatted off our ears as we neared the split of the river. The stone farmhouse was just on the other side of a small bridge, and its windows glowed orange from the candles and lamps within. Even before we crossed the river to get there, the smell of scorched plant matter lingered in the air. It had been many weeks since Olympia's takeover, but the fires of Tyrus's weapon seemed to have everlasting effects on its landscape.

  “You want me to carry that?” Altan asked Calder, motioning to the keg of ale in his arms.

  “So you can drink it all?” Calder retorted, to which Altan laughed.

  “Gah, my true intentions have been discovered,” Altan mumbled lightly.

  “I'd pay to see you chug it all,” Nyx commented.

  “Don't offer me gold, woman,” Altan warned. “You know I'll do it.”

  Nyx reached in her pocket just to jiggle her coin purse, and we chuckled.

  “A few of us like Altan,” I told Nyx. “It'd be nice if he survived the night.”

  Altan nudged me in the shoulder. “You don't think I could stomach it?”

  “That's gallons of dwarven ale, you crazy person,” I replied playfully. “Nobody could stomach that.” I hesitated and caught Nyx's gaze. “Okay, maybe Nyx.”

  “You're a healer,” Altan reminded me. “You know the spells for removing toxins.”

  I glared over at him. “Really?”

  Altan grinned, the light of a lamp post outside of Uriel's door reflecting off of his perfect teeth. “You'll be my designated healer. Get me out of tight spots when I drink too much.”

  “You know what?” I leaned forward, my eyes flicking between Nyx and Calder. “Let him die.”

  Altan's enthusiasm was contagious as we arrived on Uriel's doorstep. The healer opened the door before we could knock, alerted to our presence from the first Sentinel's raucous laughter.

  “I'd ask if the drinking's already started,” Uriel greeted, slapping Altan lightly on the arm as he walked in first, “but I know better when it comes to you.”

  The farmhouse was a nice size for only being one floor and a small open attic for storage space. It had an open floor plan which allowed one to see the entire home from one side to the other, relying only on half-walls and sturdy wooden furniture for the differentiation of rooms. Calder carried the keg of dwarven ale to the kitchen, where the counters had tops made of gold. Hanging cabinets were bolted into stone walls, and the home even had a cooler which I assumed was stocked with ice or snow from the upper city. Olympia was a rich city, yes, but the amount of expensive furniture in a simple farmhouse still surprised me.

  On the opposite side of the home from the kitchen was a large open bedroom. The bed had bright blue sheets and a variety of furs and hand-woven blankets, the heaviest of which Uriel had folded and put off to the side due to the High Star heat. I raised an eyebrow when I noticed both sides of the bed had recently been slept in. A weapon's belt was laying across a small table beside the bathtub with a few metal piercings scattered next to it.

  Uriel hurried to haphazardly make the bed when he noticed me eyeing it. As the others sat around a large circular table in the middle of the house which was surrounded by chairs, I followed him.

  The healer chuckled softly when he noticed my presence, and his
pale face darkened a shade or two. “Go on, Kai. Say it.”

  I smiled at him and crossed my arms, before looking pointedly at the personal belongings on the small table. “I didn't know you kept your spear on a belt. And you've never been one for facial piercings.” My eyes moved back to Uriel as he finished making his bed. “Who is he?”

  “A soldier,” Uriel replied vaguely, though he smiled warmly at me.

  “Alderi or Vhiri?”

  “Vhiri,” he answered. “You know I prefer monogamy.”

  I reached out to give him a friendly pat on the arm. “I'm happy for you. I hope I'll get to meet this lucky man at some point.”

  Uriel chuckled. “I try not to rush ahead of myself with these types of things.” He sobered a bit and added, “I have loved and lost many times throughout the centuries. The more I let someone be a part of my life, the quicker they fall out of it.”

  It was the first time I'd heard him allude to such tragedies in his life. I frowned and said, “I'm sorry, Uriel. If we weren't in this situation,” I waved my hand back toward the others laughing and talking at his table, “I'd ask you to share those stories with me.”

  “We have many years together yet, Kai,” Uriel replied. “We'll have plenty of time to talk. I've missed our long conversations. It seems like the only times we get to have them are on the seas.”

  “Then let's steal a ship out in the harbor and sail in circles,” I jested.

  Uriel chuckled. “That's an idea.”

  “If you two don't get over here, you won't get any ale,” Nyx called out.

  Uriel and I made our way to the table, where only two seats were empty. One was to the left of Altan, which I knew was meant for me so I could use magic on him without him noticing. The other seat was beside Cyrus so he and Uriel could be across from Altan when they spoke. I couldn't help but feel anxious for the conversation ahead. I loved Altan, so not only did I dislike having to use illusion on him, but I was also slightly worried about the idea that he might normally keep things from me. I would find out the hard truth tonight, and I wasn't sure I was ready for it.