by Edun, Terah
Bowing, the Daemoni male responded mockingly, “Caemon. Never fear. We aren’t fools. Now both Weathervanes will serve our cause.”
“I serve no one,” said Ciardis with defiance.
Caemon let a stubborn glint enter his eyes as he said softly, “You misunderstand my dedication to this cause, Thanar. I fight to free all those enslaved. I don’t care for your petty grudges again the humans.”
Enslaved? Ciardi thought, miffed.
Thanar smiled cruelly as he sauntered forward. “But you fight with us?”
“Of course,” said Caemon sharply. He moved to stand just slightly in front of his sister. He was no fool. Thanar was a cruel tyrant—within and outside of his own race.
Thanar smiled. “And your sister?”
“She—”
“His sister can speak for herself,” said Ciardis loudly.
She heard the almost silent growl of the hellhounds as they gathered around their master, and she realized for the first time that all chatter and laughter had stopped. Any kith who had previously stood near them had backed away until they encircled the three. Frantically she looked around for Inga, and found her forced to her knees with two frost giants at her shoulder and a giant spider holding a serrated blade to her neck. Inga was bleeding heavily from a wound on her forehead and she looked like she was trying to speak. Her mouth was moving but no sound came out. Eventually she settled for a death glare at the giant spider.
How had she not heard the scuffle between Inga and her captors?
The Daemoni male in front of her, the one called Thanar, smile darkly and she saw his power surge. Of course, magic.
“Don’t fear for your friend,” said Thanar with silk in his voice. “A mere silencing spell has overcome her. And the blood is just superficial. She put up a fight when she realized we knew who you were.”
Ciardis paled. This wasn’t good. Depending on if they knew of her ties to the army or to the imperial family, it could be even worse.
Ciardis pulled a knife from her waist.
Thanar threw back his head and laughed, genuinely amused.
“That will not work on me, girl-child,” he said.
“I’m no child,” she spat out.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how long my people live?”
She refused to answer the question.
“For hundreds of years,” he said, completely unruffled by her lack of answer. “And you are what? Less than two decades old? You are a child.”
Ciardis raised her head with confidence. “What do you want with us?”
“Your cooperation.”
“With what?”
“The war, of course.”
“Not possible. Can we go now?” Ciardis shifted warily on her feet. Prepared to fight or run. Knowing neither would allow her to last very long.
“You and Warlord Inga are free to leave. You will die on the cold tundra.” Surprise and resentfulness colored her thoughts.
“I think we’re wily enough to survive.”
He smiled in delight. “Not if I strip you of all weapons, all clothes, and put a disorientation spell on you.”
“Creative,” she spat out.
“You haven’t seen creative, child.”
Ciardis said, “May I speak with my brother?”
“By all means,” he said with an accommodating wave of his hands.
Ciardis turned to Caemon as if they weren’t standing in the midst of a crowd of enemy kith and hissed, “What were you thinking, coming here? Serving them? You might be bound, but you serve a greater cause.”
“A greater cause? What would you know of a greater cause?”
“I know that I am not fool enough to think I could win my freedom by serving an evil horde.”
Her brother’s eyes grew cold, “Watch your tongue, sister. Thanar is a right bastard, but I have friends among this horde, as you so call them. When I joined I was thinking of fairness. Of justice.
“Did you honestly think the Sarvinians would give you freedom?”
He said in disgust, “This isn’t about my freedom. Look around you!”
He gestured at the children huddled at their parents’ feet, the adults with unfriendly gazes, and the downtrodden nature of everyone’s appearance.
“Do you think they want to be here? To have to flee to a small valley? A sanctuary?”
Ciardis glanced around and then back at him, not seeing the point.
“Do you know what this place is a sanctuary from?”
She watched her brother with wary eyes, shaking her head slightly.
“The mines,” he said with slumped shoulders. “The damned mines of Sarvinia.”
“What Sarvinian mines? The kingdom next door? What does that have to do with us?” Ciardis whispered back fiercely.
Everyone knew the stories. The king of Sarvinia was a ruthless ruler who punished his people indiscriminately and tortured his detractors. She sighed as she took a good look around at the kith around them. Some bore the marks of chains and manacles that even she could see. She had mistaken their laughter for happiness when perhaps it was more a sense of relief at being free. She eyed her brother. He fought for these people who had no other, whose king had turned against them, and whose world had been reduced to the life of backbreaking chattel.
Making a decision she turned to Thanar in empathy as she said, “I know that the king of Sarvinia is an evil man. So does the Prince Heir. Why not ally with the Empire against him? Request supplies and funds in support of your cause. Why invade Algardis?”
Thanar simply looked at her with something akin to pity in his eyes.
“Because the king of Sarvinia is a mirage,” said her brother softly from behind her. “One created by the Imperial courts to justify their means to an end.”
Ciardis turned to her brother in disbelief.
Caemon turned to Thanar and said, “She won’t believe me unless I show her proof.”
Thanar said, “Then show her.”
“Come, sister,” Caemon said, holding out an entreating hand. “Let me show you what the Empire has hidden all along.”
She stared at him as if he had gone crazy. Ciardis shook her head violently, her chestnut curls flying every which way.
“You’re wrong,” she said, her voice shaking.
“If I’m wrong,” said Caemon calmly, “then you have nothing to lose.”
Ciardis took a steadying breath and put her left hand in his.
He led her through the crowds, which partly quietly before them. None of the kith spoke, none touched them, but Ciardis read the accusations in their eyes. Every creature had pain-filled orbs, every child shrank back in fear from the touch of her cloak. By the time they had walked through all of the people, silent tears dotted her cheeks.
They walked until they stood in front of small, round, dilapidated tent. It was a patched mess with too many holes, but she could see at a glance that it was well cared for. Outside of the tent sat a kith whose origin she did not know. He had a long beak like a crow, leathery skin like the fabled elephants of Sarvinia, and giant ears that flapped in the wind.
“This is Cat,” Caemon said to Ciardis.
“Hello, Cat,” whispered Ciardis.
The man didn’t lift his gaze from its fixed stare on the floor, where he traced an indecipherable pattern in the dirt on the ground.
“He was a slave of the Sarvinian mines,” said Caemon carefully. “He once stood as tall as Kane, as strong as Inga, and with muscles like an ox. The mines did this to him and more.”
Ciardis turned away from the distant creature in front of him to whisper fiercely to Caemon, “What do you want from me? To believe that the mines are real but the Sarvinian king is not?”
“No,” Caemon whispered back just as fiercely, his golden eyes glinting in the sun. “I want you to know that not only are the mines real, but that they are run by the Algardis emperor.”
Ciardis narrowed her eyes. “You’ve gone mad.”
Her
brother laughed manically. “I’ve gone mad?”
He said mockingly, “You trust these people. The ones you’ve known for less than a year. I’ve lived under their cruel reign for my entire life as a slave.”
“I know,” she whispered back desperately, “but the people at court are different.”
“The people at court?” he said incredulously. “They are the very instigators of this tragedy.”
Ciardis reeled back as if slapped. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that it was the Imperial courts that invented the fable of Sarvinia. A fable to get what they wanted from the mines.”
“Why would they do that? Why would they invent the king?” Ciardis said as she walked away in disgust.
“And a kingdom,” her brother pointed out.
Ciardis halted. “Are you now saying that the very Sarvinians I see around me are not real, either?” He detected the mockery in her tone and smiled.
“Oh, they are real, but they aren’t Sarvinian. After the Initiate Wars the Empire realized they couldn’t continue to mine the great northern mines without kith help. The air and land were too toxic for human miners. But the kith contingents refused to serve any longer in the dark and dangerous underground caverns. They refused to continue looking for the precious gifts the humans sought. And the humans couldn’t force them. At least not the kith, who lived in Algardis, those who had signed the contract with the land in blood and were now protected by its treaty.”
Ciardis stared at her brother. She could hardly believe the tales that came from his lips.
He continued, unabated, “But those at court knew of other kith. Kith that lived beyond our borders. They crossed into the wastelands of what is now called Sarvinia, enslaved them, and continue to round up more slaves to this day. That small encampment of soldiers for the Algardis Army? Slave holders.”
Ciardis opened her mouth to protest, but Caemon beat her to it. “Have you never wondered why a group of soldiers tasked with fighting a war was so small?”
She closed her mouth, doubt fixed in her mind.
“Because there is no war,” he said heavily. “The frost giants? They round up and kill all the escaped slaves. Some barely armed.”
“And you?” Ciardis said softly.
“Tasked to enhancing the powers of the concealment mages and, later, of cleaning up your mess,” he said ruefully.
“My mess?”
“When you freed the Land Wight from the chains that bound it, it became, for lack of a better word, busy,” he said, “it didn’t like that there were kith on its border that were being treated so badly. Citizens of Algardis or not.”
Ciardis rubbed her eyelids in irritation. A lot of mess seemed to be coming back to that Land Wight. That and the death of the Princess Heir at the hands of Sebastian’s guards. When she had broken the chains binding Sebastian’s powers to a locket that had drained him of his gifts since the age of five, she never imagined such horrid and far-reaching consequences. She thought that by restoring the natural bond between a Prince and the land, incorporated in the form of the natural spirit of the Land Wight she would be doing good and she had. At least she hoped she had. But so far, death and despair seem to following much too closely.
Caemon continued, “So the Land Wight has been doing what it can to interfere in General Barnaren’s plans. He had me counteracting the Land Wight and eventually shielding the mages.”
Caemon shrugged with a ghost of a smile. “I got lucky, actually. The mages needed me so much that they had to loosen the restrictions on the geas.”
She raised an eyebrow. “These,” he said, wiggling his wrists to show off the metal armbands.
“They bound me hand and foot to a caretaker before,” he said. “The stupid man died in an avalanche. I was free. I ran to the first place I thought I could get help for the kith cause.”
“The Ameles Forest,” they said in unison.
He nodded. “Unfortunately the Shadowwalker found me first and was able to bind me, as he had powerful death magic and stole the geas from the shade of the former caretaker who died in the avalanche. The bastard. Then he left me in the tree line while he fought his battle with you.”
Realization sparked in Ciardis’s eyes. “The Shadowwalker died. You were free again.”
Her brother nodded.
“Tell me something,” Ciardis said. “How have you been getting around and appearing so quickly?”
“Uh uh, dear sister,” he said. “You may be family, but I don’t trust you just yet.”
“I bet your weird transportation gifts have something to do with that metal stick I picked up,” she muttered.
He shrugged.
With narrowed eyes and hands on her hips she said, “So say I believe you—about the mines, about the Sarvinians. What’s so important about those mines that the emperor must hide the excavation from every citizen in the empire?”
His gaze darkened. “I don’t know.”
Ciardis said, “Have you asked the Sarvinians?”
“They won’t tell me. Something to do with their old myths. They seem to think even the knowledge of its existence is more dangerous than their continued deaths in the mines.”
“What are you saying?” Ciardis said.
“I’m saying that for over two hundred years kith have been enslaved to dig in the mines,” he said with bleakness in his golden eyes, “and the Empire has yet to find what it is seeking.”
Chapter 16
For once, Ciardis was silent. She had no words. They walked back to the market area. She was shocked to see everything gone. The stalls had been broken down in minutes. The fabrics, the pottery, and the crafts had all disappeared. All that remained was the occasional scrap of dirty cloth on the ground and the tracks of feet that appeared in every direction. A chilly wind came and blew past. She wasn’t entirely sure it was natural. This was the only place she’d seen in the North so far that wasn’t covered in snow. In fact, the entire valley was green and blooming. She had time to wonder why, but wasn’t curious enough to ask.
“Where is everybody?” she finally ventured.
Her twin shrugged, his voice grim. “Hiding. They’re afraid that you’ll turn them in to the Algardis Army. That the wrath of the Algardis troops will rain down upon them and imprison their families in the mines.”
“If they were so afraid, why were Warlord Inga and I brought here? Why risk the sanctity of your sanctuary at all?”
She looked away from her brother to see Thanar waiting for them with his black wings slightly spread, his arms crossed, and his legs in a wide stance.
“Because it was our only option,” Thanar said. “The protection around the sanctuary is failing.”
“What protection?” said Ciardis.
“The one that maintains the sight and sound barrier around the sanctuary.”
“I didn’t know they could make them that big,” muttered Ciardis, “What’s the catch?”
“We need two Weathervanes to maintain it,” Thanar said.
“You’re kidding, right?” Ciardis said.
“No, he’s not,” her brother said, rubbing tired eyes. “The protective spell on the valley is maintained by the Daemoni, but they alone cannot energize it. There’s a dome built of Daemoni spells that is protecting the sanctuary from the naked eye, hides it from the mage scryers of the Empire, keeps it at a moderate temperature to ensure that food can be grown inside, and shields it from direct mage attacks. Without it the Algardis Army would have found this place years ago.”
“And they still try,” interrupted Thanar with hard eyes. “General Barnaren is smart. He has employed physical and magical tactics to find this place recently. Just two weeks ago he sent a detachment of troops to comb the mountainside by hand not two miles from here. The protections of the crystal are good, but they aren’t that good. The troops would have seen the dark cavern, my posted men, and eventually investigated.”
Caemon agreed. “And if they had, we would have had t
o either kill them or imprison them. Either way another detachment would be sent this area, and then another, until their focus narrowed here.”
“And the Old Ones?” Ciardis asked abruptly.
Her brother turned to her in surprise. “What about them?”
“They’re your allies, aren’t they?” she asked. He looked stupefied. As if he had not the faintest notion of what she was talking about. Before he could inquire more, Thanar stepped forward. “Miss Weathervane, regardless of how you feel about my methods, you must see that the families and children here want nothing but safety. To know that they can live without fear of being enslaved.”
“I know that,” said Ciardis harshly, “but what I don’t know is if you’re telling me the whole truth. How can this be real? A band of escaped slaves hiding in the Northern Mountains, being hunted by the Algardis Army under the pretext of a war? It sounds a little far-fetched.”
“Far-fetched to you,” Thanar said shortly. “Life to us.”
“Even if what you say is true and the army hunts you, who toils away in the mines now?” Ciardis stressed, “Can you truly believe that the dozens of kith here are the last of their race north of the border?”
Thanar smiled cruelly. “Of course not. Only those that got away. And you misunderstand: the general doesn’t hunt us to return a small pittance of slaves to the mines. He hunts us to keep their secret hidden. The secret of enslavement of generations, the secret that no one is safe from the greed of the Imperial family, the secret that they would create a war to capture what they seek.”
“And what is that which they seek?” Her voice was sharp.
“No, Weathervane. That is not for you to know. Not yet.”
“You’re asking me to trust you. To go against everything I believe in to help you.”
“No, Ciardis,” Caemon said. “He’s asking you to save his people and live up to our family’s creed: ‘a noble clan with powers above all.’”
The creed that had been inscribed in her family’s book so long ago. She remembered reading it and knowing that she finally belonged. That regardless of the deaths of all her blood relations, she had never been truly alone.
“‘Above All,’ Ciardis,” Caemon said, “was homage to our family’s service to the empire. Not to the Imperial Family. To the empire, to its people. To right injustices and use our strength to ensure good.”
