by Edun, Terah
He was right. Ciardis wasn’t sure if she preferred the Sarvinians to be right about this or the Algardis soldiers to be wrong. One represented a moral quandary that she didn’t want to believe true of her empire, while the other represented an existential threat to everyone living in the Algardis lands.
“Let’s hope we’re all wrong,” she said.
They dismounted a few meters from the canyon edge. Exchanging glances as they walked forward, Sebastian motioned for two of his guards to stay with the horses, one to come with him and Ciardis and the other three to spread out along the ridge. Once close enough to crawl to the edge, they dropped down to their knees and lowered their bodies to the ground to escape detection.
Easing forward with the wind blowing her hair back in a wild tangle, Ciardis peeked over the edge, trying to spot the foreign troops below. She half-hoped that they had disappeared like a mirage—maybe they were never there in the first place. She hadn’t spoken about them with General Barnaren when she had awoken from her healing sleep because she’d thought them nothing but a dream. What she would give now for that to be true. Ciardis felt her belly flip unpleasantly when she noted that not only were they still there, but there were more of them. Many more.
“How far are we from the border?” she whispered.
“We’re just over it, on the side of the Sarvinians,” Sebastian explained. “Although no one has really mapped the full terrain of the Northern Mountains, and they stretch for miles.”
He pointed east. “The gate is one mile that way.”
The mass of troops stretched east into the distance.
Ciardis swallowed hard. “Why have they stopped?”
“I don’t know,” he commented softly.
“What are they? Who are they?”
“I don’t know,” Sebastian said, “but they’re trying to get into my empire.”
“Sire!” came an urgent whisper from off to the side. Sebastian and Ciardis looked up to see one of his guards motioning for them to come closer.
As they eased over to where he stood, he disappeared into the ground.
Exclamations sounded all around.
“There’s a ledge here, sire,” said the guard’s voice, floating up from nowhere.
And so there was.
First Sebastian jumped down and then he helped Ciardis to climb down by his side. They uneasily eyed a path going down into the canyon. It zigzagged alongside the ridge and was virtually concealed by layers of rock on either side. Perfect for hidden archers and secret escapes.
“There,” said the soldier. “There’s a ledge. It will allow for a closer look. I’ll go down, sire. Report back what I find.”
Sebastian frowned.
Ciardis knew he wanted to go down himself. She put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Let him go. We can’t afford exposure. He has the training to make it down and back quickly without detection.”
Sebastian nodded. The soldier left their side silently and they watched with bated breath as he slipped down the path on light feet to edge over to the lower ledge, which was no more than fifty feet above the packed canyon.
He came back in record time. The look on his face wasn’t good.
“They’re trolls, sir.”
“Trolls?” said Sebastian with light relief in his voice. He didn’t say it, but they were all thinking it: Trolls weren’t so bad. The foot soldiers of the Initiate Wars. Dumb, manageable, and easily killed compared to the troops which usually fought by their side.
The soldier’s voice dipped as he said grimly, “That’s not all.”
Testily, Sebastian said, “What else?”
“Daemoni, sire. Hundreds of them.”
“Without a doubt?”
The man straightened his shoulders. “I’m sure, sire.”
Sebastian turned to Ciardis and carefully said, “Didn’t you say you saw Daemoni in the Sanctuary?”
“Not these Daemoni.”
“What if they’re working with them?”
“What if they aren’t?”
Sebastian licked his lips and looked away. “We have to be sure, Ciardis. We have to know who our allies are and who are our enemies. We need to talk to Barnaren.”
Ciardis lifted a stubborn chin. “And if he’s our enemy?”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
With a backwards glance they climbed out of the canyon and went back to camp. It was a long, silent ride fraught with tension and worry.
“I think we should speak with the Daemoni first,” she said stubbornly when they saw the lights of the camp rise on the horizon. Prince Heir Sebastian turned to her.
“No, General Barnaren needs to tell us what side he is on and what the true story is behind the sanctuary and the troop movements. Besides, we can’t trust your Daemoni,” he countered. “Not after seeing those Daemoni warriors with the troops in the chasm.”
“I’ve spoken with them and worked alongside my Daemoni,” she said with fire in her eyes. “I think my experiences with them and the people they’re protecting should count for something.”
Sebastian breathed out slowly as he turned aside to think. He turned back after eyeing the Northern Mountains, which arced up into the sky in the distance. Finally, he spoke. “Can you find them?”
She grimaced uneasily. “Not easily, no. But I think I can try.”
Looking back over at Sebastian, she hurriedly said seeing the indecision on his face, “I know this is foolish. I know that we’ll be looking for a sanctuary that’s been hidden from searching eyes for centuries, but I also know it’s there. That we will find it.”
Ciardis said. “Together?”
Sebastian eyed her as he dipped his head in thought. When he met her eyes she saw speculation and something else she couldn’t name. Then he leaned forward over the side of his horse to grasp her gloved hand in his. Even with the fabric between the skins of their hands, the new powers instilled by the Old Ones allowed her to read his emotions loud and clear through their bond.
The feeling that she couldn’t name in his eyes became clear.
Love.
As she looked at him in wonder, he said firmly, “I said ‘always,’ and I meant it. Through hell. I’ll be there.”
She nodded, too emotional to speak. He gave her a smile and they trotted off into the mountains.
*****
After hours of riding, a good amount spent going in a circle, they were beginning to tire.
After they saw the same weirdly shaped rock formation for the third time, she had to admit out loud, “I think we’re going in circles.”
One of the guards whispered something that sounded like, “Thank the gods, thought it would never be said,” but she chose to ignore it.
Looking over at Sebastian from underneath a heavy cloak and scarf, she continued, “Perhaps we should go back to camp?”
“We might have to,” he said.
As they made their way back down the slope, they were met by one rider on horseback and a form that Ciardis would have recognized even amidst a gale.
“Inga,” she called out in delight and worry. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in bed! Kane, how could you allow her—”
Ciardis’s scolding would have gone on without pause if Inga hadn’t glared at her with a ferocity that made her stop dead in her tracks.
“Inga?” Ciardis said uneasily.
“What am I doing here?” the frost giant warrior thundered, “I am a frost giant. We heal harsh wounds as if they were naught but a tiny scratch. Nothing can undo us. But you, you pitiful, weak human, should not be here. Who let you out of bed, much less out of the camp? Again.”
By the end of her speech, Ciardis was cringing in her saddle.
Sebastian raised a hand. “That would be me.”
The glare the frost giant warrior leveled at Sebastian said she didn’t care if he was a prince; she would lop off his head. His guards shifted uneasily around him. Apparently they believed her unspoken threat.<
br />
Kane cleared his throat and urged his horse forward. “I believe that was Inga’s way of saying that she cares about you and she hates that she had to take assistance from such a weak, pitiful human.”
“I did not say that,” Inga thundered.
Kane turned around and glared at her from horseback, which put his eyes level with hers. She glared back and then shuffled her feet. “But perhaps it was appropriate.”
“You’re welcome, Inga,” said Ciardis.
Inga snorted. “I owe you blood debt. I will repay it. We go.” She set off up a mountain path.
Ciardis looked at Sebastian.
Sebastian looked at Ciardis.
“Go? Go where?” Ciardis shouted after the frost giant’s rapidly retreating form.
Inga didn’t answer.
Kane said, “The Sanctuary. She’s been talking about it non-stop since she woke. We followed you at a distance from camp, and when you turned around she figured that was where you were going.”
“She wasn’t wrong,” Sebastian said at last.
“Then shall we go after my rapidly disappearing love?”
They turned their horses around and followed the frost giant up the mountain path.
Ciardis had one thing on her mind: When did Kane and Inga get back together?
Following the frost giant’s lead, it took them less than an hour to return to a familiar scene. A large black cavern with Daemoni guards in front, attired in black with weapons at their waists and standing at attention with their wings spread slightly. Ciardis felt relief flow through her as she urged her horse forward. Surely they would remember her.
She stopped in confusion when she heard Sebastian call out, “All right, men. Dead end. We’re heading back to where we came from—camp.”
“What are you talking about?” Ciardis asked. She pointed toward the cavern. “We’re here. This is what we were looking for.”
“What?” asked Sebastian, looking to where she was pointing and back at her. “A wall of ice?”
“No,” she said. “Don’t you see them?”
“See whom?” said Kane from atop his own horse.
Ciardis opened and closed her mouth, flummoxed. She turned to Inga. “You see it, don’t you?”
Inga slowly shook her head. “I know it’s there from memory and I can smell the dark, acidic scent of the Daemoni nearby, but I can’t see it or them.”
Ciardis turned to take in the rest of the guards. “Show of hands. Who can’t see the big black cavern in front of us?”
Every hand went up.
Well, that was disconcerting. Ciardis turned around, dismounted, and walked straight up to the Daemoni guard closest to her.
“Tell Thanar that Ciardis Weathervane and Warlord Inga are here to see him.”
He turned unblinking eyes down to her as he shifted only his head. She felt a shiver go down her spine but she didn’t flinch.
“Very well,” he said. He stepped back into the cavern and was gone.
Ciardis nodded with a confidence that she didn’t feel and turned back to her compatriots. “He’s gone for Thanar, the leader of the Daemoni clan here.”
Kane and Sebastian exchanged wary glances. Inga sat down in the snow and began to clean her knives.
There was naught else to do but wait.
When he came back he motioned for Ciardis to follow him. As he turned around and pointed at the dark cavern, suddenly the illusion rippled in front of Ciardis. It was like a veneer had dropped—the one that had blocked it from sight—and she pointed with excitement. “Now do you see it?”
“Yes,” said Sebastian in wonder.
Inga got up with less amazement. Kane looked stoically ahead as usual.
“Well,” Ciardis said more calmly, “are we ready, then?”
“Let’s go,” said Kane as they stepped forward and descended down the black steps carved into the base of the tunnel. They walked forward into a place that was known only as a legend in Algardis.
Less than ten minutes later they were heading into the sanctuary. When they arrived Ciardis was relieved to see the gathered crowds of people and Thanar standing in front.
She went straight to him while looking around anxiously. Sebastian and Kane followed close behind. As soon as she reached Thanar she looked up at him with fear in her eyes and her heart in her throat. “Caemon? Is he here?”
Thanar wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at Prince Heir Sebastian with a decidedly unpleasant look on his face. Sebastian returned the glare with just as much animosity.
“Thanar,” said Ciardis. “I don’t have time for this. Where is my brother?”
Her voice caught as she choked out, “Did he get out?”
Finally Thanar deigned to look down at her upturned face. “Yes,” he said softly. “He survived.”
“Oh, thank the gods.”
“But with severe wounds. Burns, and he still lies unconscious a day later.”
“Let me see him,” she beseeched.
Thanar’s eyes softened. “I would, Weathervane, and I will. But first I must know why you have brought your imperial guard and the emperor’s spawn to our doorstep.”
Ciardis felt the anger in Sebastian spike dangerously.
She swallowed quickly and said, “Don’t call him that. We’re here—”
“I can speak for myself,” interrupted Sebastian coldly.
She frowned and turned back toward him. But she knew from the look on his face that he wouldn’t appreciate her interference. Not when he wanted to have words leader-to-leader.
“Fine,” she muttered, stepping aside.
Sebastian smoothly stepped forward until he was five feet from Thanar, and Ciardis stood pensively between them with her arms crossed.
She didn’t think this was going to go over well. She knew Sebastian well enough to know that he was in the mood to be contrary, and, well, Thanar was contrary by nature. As they stared each other down, Sebastian shorter than the Daemoni mage by a foot, she was tempted to interrupt but didn’t because she knew that wouldn’t get them anywhere.
“I have never met a Daemoni before,” said Sebastian conversationally.
Thanar lifted an eyebrow. “Not surprising, considering you wiped us out.”
“I did? Personally?”
Thanar glared and raised his wings up in a position that reminded Ciardis of a bird of prey ready to strike.
“Don’t taunt me, Prince Heir.”
“Then don’t play games with me. You knew that we were here; you knew that we were looking for you. And yet you allowed the Weathervane alone in your sanctuary? You even called to her. We’re lucky she was with Inga, or she would have disappeared entirely.”
Ciardis narrowed her eyes. What was Sebastian getting at?
“Deductive, Prince Heir,” said Thanar, “but not enough.”
“Not enough?” said Sebastian with a stone face. “Enough to prove that your motives weren’t genuine, that you allied yourselves with the Old Ones, or that you are not, in fact, refugees from the mines?”
Thanar laughed a cold laugh while not taking his eyes off of Sebastian’s face. “Now you are—what is your human term for it? Ah, yes, ‘fishing.’ But I will give you this, Prince Heir. Our motives were always genuine. We asked the Old Ones to bring the Weathervane to us. We needed her powers, we needed her skills, and we knew we could never separate Ciardis from your army without bringing all of the soldiers down on our heads. So we negotiated.”
“For what?” demanded Ciardis.
“That is no concern for now.”
“Oh, it is,” retorted Ciardis. “You bought me and I want to know in exchange for what. I am damn tired of your secrets, Thanar. This, at least, I know I am owed.”
“Freedom,” the Daemoni mage replied lazily.
“Freedom?” echoed Ciardis.
“The Old Ones want the humans and the Sarvinians gone from their mountain passes. With the refugees settled in the sanctuary and a possible peace treaty neg
otiated between the human army and the Sarvinian army, they hoped it would make everyone leave.”
“And what makes them think you could broker such a treaty?” said Sebastian softly.
“I can’t,” replied Thanar. “The agreement for the treaty was never intended to be brokered by me.”
“Then whom?” snapped Prince Heir Sebastian.
“Ah, ah, Prince,” said Thanar. “Your anger is misplaced. It is time you spoke with your own commanders. If they have not told you, there’s no reason I should.”
“Enough,” said Ciardis, laying a restraining hand on Sebastian’s chest. He had reached for his sword and stepped forward. She was well aware of his skill with the blade, but that didn’t negate the fact that there were two Daemoni warriors present for every person in their party, not to mention a bunch of scared people who only sought sanctuary here.
“You can’t fight,” she said firmly. “Not here.”
“Then I suggest we leave,” said Sebastian, removing his hand from his sword.
She dropped her hand from his chest. “My brother first.”
She turned to Thanar with a demanding look.
“Of course,” he replied smoothly, still staring at Sebastian. She was tempted to smack the smirk off Thanar’s face but didn’t want to start a war when they were so close to figuring this all out. The Sarvinian army, the refugees, the Old Ones, the Algardis outpost, the mines—they were all interconnected. But not every piece of this puzzle could be true. At least she hoped not.
Finally Thanar turned to her after she cleared her throat with impatience. “This way Weathervane.”
He led them to a small tent. Its sides were rolled back and open to the wind. With a muffled cry, Ciardis rushed to the person lying inside. Her brother. Caemon lay bandaged from head to toe with an old healer kneeling at his side muttering chants.
The healer swatted her away when she tried to touch Caemon, and she couldn’t understand him when he spoke. He was speaking in the old language. Frantically she looked up and around, but Inga was already kneeling by Ciardis’s side.
“Die Brandwunde sind erheblich. Es gibt Wochen bis er wohl wird. Er darf bis dahin nicht aufwachen, sonst schreit er,” the old man spoke with warning in his tone.
