Felix set the crown lightly on Kiara’s head. Although Kiara could not see the crown, she did see a cloud of golden light that enveloped her from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. The light extended a slender glowing cord toward the inlaid box on the pedestal, enveloping it in the same nimbus. Once more, the box began to tremble, and the golden glow began to swirl, shifting from golden into a light blue.
Before Kiara could react, an image forced itself into her consciousness, of Cwynn, alone in the darkness. At the same time, she felt a jolt of power travel down the length of her body, coming to rest in her abdomen, which clenched lightly and then released. The image remained vivid in her mind, as did the unshakable feeling that somehow, Cwynn was present.
“The crown conveys the full regent magic.” Brother Felix’s voice seemed to come from a great distance away. “Use it!”
Compared to Tris’s power as a summoner, Kiara had come to believe that her own magical abilities were lesser gifts, despite Cerise’s vague predictions that the regent magic would someday fully open for her. Now, Kiara drew on the fragile threads of power within herself, surprised to find that they glowed with a new vividness, golden and strong. Where the regent magic had been random and chaotic as it emerged since her father’s death, now the power felt coherent and whole. In her mind’s eye, Kiara saw the threads weave together, over and under, melding together into a warm, golden glow that filled her and surrounded her. Kiara willed the glow back along the blue thread to the inlaid box on the pedestal. She caught her breath. The sense of Cwynn’s presence was so strong, so tangible, that a sob tore from her throat.
Whatever was in the inlaid box reacted to her touch, and across the nether, she felt the presence lurch toward her, clinging to the golden glow as if to life itself. Kiara felt her abdomen tighten again, as if in recognition, and she felt a pulse of magic that began in the center of her body, flowing from her womb, up through her chest, and then out to envelop the inlaid box that ceased its trembling and now lay quiet. The image of Cwynn in her mind, still vivid enough to touch, relaxed, bathed in a golden glow.
As suddenly as it came, the glow dissipated, and Kiara fell forward onto her hands and knees, spent. Dimly, she heard Brother Felix murmur the words to break the warding, and Cerise rushed to kneel beside her.
“What did you do to her?” Cerise’s voice was tinged with anger and fear. Kiara tried to catch her breath. She could feel Cerise’s healing magic flowing over her, a warm, comforting blanket of power.
“I’ve studied the conveyance ritual thoroughly, and I’ve never read of anything like this before.”
“What is in that damn box?” It was Balaren who spoke. He took a step toward the pedestal, but Allestyr blocked his way.
Cerise helped Kiara to her feet. Kiara wondered if she looked as pale as she felt, and from the expressions on the others’ faces, she guessed that she did. She met Allestyr’s gaze. “You said that you took ‘precautions’ to assure my throne. What have you done?”
Brother Felix sighed and moved to the inlaid box that now lay quietly on the pedestal. He murmured a few words of power over it before lifting it gently in his hands. “We were afraid that if Alvior landed troops on Isencroft soil before you were crowned in the full ceremony, he could claim blood title to the throne. There is an ancient working to crown you by proxy, creating a ‘you’ to be here in Isencroft until you actually arrived in person.” Felix opened the lid of the inlaid box.
Inside lay the nenkah, a crude rag doll. Felix caught his breath. The nenkah lay curled into a fetal position, and its linen chest rose and fell with slow, steady breath. Cautiously, Kiara stepped forward to touch it with a finger. The linen was warm.
Balaren looked at the box with a mix of curiosity and horror. “What breathes in that box is not fully alive, but not dead or undead. Even to my senses, it has the feel of gray magic.”
“A rag doll on the banks of a river, warm like life,” she murmured, remembering Renate’s nightmare. Once again, the touch brought a vivid picture of Cwynn to mind, and an overwhelming feeling of fear, of being hunted, of escape that it almost tore a sob from her throat.
“We borrowed from your life force when we made the nenkah out of personal items,” Felix explained, shaking his head as if at a loss. “The ancient texts said that the life force would return to you when the ceremony was completed, and the nenkah would become just a bit of rags once more. I have no explanation.”
“It never occurred to you that you might be drawing on two life forces, did it?” Cerise’s voice was sharp.
Brother Felix looked at Cerise blankly, stunned. “Two?”
“Kiara is pregnant.”
Allestyr paled. “We didn’t know. We had no idea,” he said, eyes growing wide at the implications.
“When the magic came on me, it touched the child inside of me,” Kiara said quietly. “But I also saw an image of Cwynn, felt his presence. When I touched the nenkah, it happened again, as if his presence is bound here somehow.” She looked up at Felix and Allestyr sharply. “We don’t dare withdraw the power from the nenkah, not until we know what it means for my children.”
Brother Felix let his hand hover above the nenkah. The figure did not stir, like a sleeping child curled into a ball. After a moment he withdrew his hand and turned to them. “A whisper of your life force remains within the nenkah, but there is another force as well. Something is different about the second life force. Like yours, it’s incomplete, divided. I can’t explain it. Whatever it is, it’s powerful even though it’s not whole. If it’s your son’s energy, then he is likely to be an even greater mage than his father.”
Kiara shook her head slowly. “But none of the mages—not even Tris—has been able to read Cwynn’s magic. Cheira Talwyn of the Sworn believes Cwynn is very powerful, but there’s something very different about whatever power he has. She was afraid that it was different enough that Cwynn might be the real prize behind this war.”
“You have many questions,” Allestyr said, stepping up to stand beside Kiara. “You’ll spend tonight in the company of your ancestors’ spirits, and tomorrow, tradition demands that you make a pilgrimage to the Oracle of Chenne. Together, they may be able to explain what has happened, since we cannot.”
Kiara nodded, but her gaze traveled back to the curled shape of the nenkah. Brother Felix closed the inlaid box gently and gave her a sad smile. “The nenkah will be safe here. The magic of the box and the power of the wardings help to sustain it. We’ll take good care until we know how to free your energy—and Cwynn’s.”
Kiara and the others waited in silence as Brother Felix dismissed the wardings around the circle. Once they made their way to the door, Felix laid down the cord around the pedestal that held the nenkah’s box, chanting under his breath as he raised new wardings of protection. He knocked at the door to signal Antoin and Captain Remir, and Kiara could hear the heavy key scrape in the iron lock. The door swung open and a cold blast of air filled the room as they stepped into the necropolis corridor.
To Kiara’s heightened vision, the darkened passageways and crypt rooms teemed with ghosts. They did not speak, nor did they try to touch her, yet Kiara felt as if she were being scrutinized closely. The group waited for a few minutes while Brother Felix locked the door to the chamber and replaced the wardings at the entrance. When he was finished, Kiara turned to him.
“How is it that suddenly, I can sense spirits all around us here? Is the regent magic a kind of summoning?”
Brother Felix considered her question in silence for a moment. “There’s been no record that activating the regent magic ever created a summoner in a king or queen who did not already have that talent. Certainly not someone with the range and depth of the talents that Martris Drayke has, or his grandmother, Bava K’aa.
“At the same time, part of the full regent magic involves being able to take the counsel of your ancestors. Your father was never truly comfortable with that part of the magic, and it may not have manifest
ed as strongly in him as it does in you. After all,” he said with a faint smile, “you also bring the blood of the Eastmark royalty into the equation. We have no idea how their magic works.”
“So I can see these ancestors and speak with them? Just tonight? Just on Haunts? Or at other times?”
“We really don’t know. Nothing has been recorded. You can ask the spirits, but they may not be able to answer you, either. Every monarch is different. For example, your father’s magic manifested in superb battle instincts. He had an uncanny way of knowing where the enemy was hidden, of anticipating their strikes. It was too accurate to be luck, too consistent. He swore he didn’t know how he did it, but he didn’t complain when it helped with the hunt as well!”
Kiara managed to smile, remembering how fond Donelan was of hunting stag.
“Unless I can use that kind of magic from afar, that won’t do us much good this time. I can’t risk the baby by taking my chances on the front lines.”
Cerise nodded thoughtfully. “Your mother had scrying magic. Sometimes she helped your father prepare for battle by using her talent behind the lines and feeding him the information via messenger. Your own abilities in that area are probably the legacy of her gift.”
Brother Felix led the group deeper into the necropolis. Antoin walked at the front with Brother Felix, while Captain Remir followed them, and Kiara noted that even here, the two men had unsheathed their swords, ready for danger.
They stopped when they reached a large mausoleum room where the bones or ashes of the monarchs of Isencroft rested, the place where Kiara was to spend the night. The door to the room was ornately carved mahogany, and the stone door frame and lintel were embellished with a complex pattern of knots and woven strands. Brother Felix held up a hand to keep her from reaching for the door.
“There are a few details to attend to before you enter,” Brother Felix said with a reassuring half smile. “While you are in the crypt, the rest of us will hold vigil in this side room,” he added, pointing to a dark opening across from the mausoleum room that Kiara had not noticed. They waited in the corridor as Felix lit the torches in the smaller room. The light revealed a room with several empty raised pedestals for the vigil keepers to rest, as well as a low wooden table and two wooden benches. On the table, someone had already set out a large basket and a smaller basket, several wineskins, and a flagon of what appeared to be blood. A folded blanket lay on each of the raised pedestals, as well as on the benches, a nod to the comfort of the vigil keepers. The side room itself was notable for its complete lack of ornamentation. Brother Felix gestured for them to enter, and he bade everyone sit.
“While the mausoleum will be warded for your protection, at least one of us as well as one of the vayash moru will be awake and on guard all night long,” Felix said. “We’ll know if something unexpected happens, and if the spirits will permit us to enter, we’ll be there to help.”
“If the spirits will permit you to enter?”
Felix shrugged. “This part of the conveyance ceremony is not in my hands.” Felix paused and met Kiara’s eyes. “Tonight will be a long night, and you’ll be among spirits. Before you enter the mausoleum, you must ground yourself for the magic by eating and drinking.”
Although a knot in the pit of her stomach cancelled out hunger, Kiara forced herself to eat from the breads, meats, and cheeses that were set out for her, and to sip from the watered wine Felix offered.
Kiara turned to Felix. “If the spirits of the crypt can’t tell me how the magic of the nenkah affects Cwynn and the babe that I carry, might the Oracle know?”
Brother Felix looked thoughtful. “You’ll have the chance to ask. A visit to her grotto is required after your journey into the mausoleum is complete. Your question might be best suited for her wisdom.”
“I can’t say that I’m comfortable with either the mausoleum or the Oracle,” Kiara said quietly. “I’m not sure I’m wise enough to ask the right questions, and father always said the Oracle was damnable about playing hide-and-seek with the truth if the question wasn’t phrased just right.”
Brother Felix chuckled. “Your father did not seek the Oracle out often, but even he acknowledged her wisdom when the situation warranted it. She came to him with a prophecy not long before his death, with words that unfortunately seem much clearer in hindsight. Perhaps she will speak more plainly to you.”
Kiara finished the food and wine, although she was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she tasted nothing. When she was finished, Brother Felix met her gaze.
“It’s time.” He helped Kiara to her feet, and then reached for the small basket on the table and handed it to her. “Everything you need for the ritual is in the basket. You know what you need to do to make it through the working. We’ll be here, keeping the vigil, and we’ll see you in the morning.”
Brother Felix and Antoin accompanied Kiara from the vigil room, and the others murmured their blessings and charms for protection as she left. At the entrance to the mausoleum, Antoin stood to the side, on guard. Felix took the iron ring from his belt and found a heavy iron key. The door’s lock was as ornamental as its carvings, forged of black iron covered with the raised images of complicated knots. The key turned in the lock, making a soft thud as the mechanism opened. It took effort for Felix to open the heavy door. Brother Felix did not enter the mausoleum; instead, he used magic to light the torches around the perimeter of a large circular room.
He turned to Kiara. “I can go no farther. The spirits are ready for you; I can feel it in the magic. Walk carefully, Kiara, and may the Goddess go with you.”
Brother Felix stepped back, allowing Kiara to approach the entrance. She took a deep breath, reaching out to the nascent regent magic, and entered the room. As she passed by the carved door frame, she noticed the four-headed dragon seal of the Isencroft royal family, as well as the heraldic icons of the eight clan lords. Kiara shivered as she crossed the threshold, feeling as if she had walked through a curtain of power.
The room was more ornate than many of the other crypts, and the walls and entrance were covered with carved runes and elaborate mosaics of glass, colored stone, and precious gems. Kiara realized that the images in the mosaics echoed the carvings in the doorposts. One panel was a huge depiction of the four-headed royal dragon. The mosaic glittered as the light caught the red gems and crimson glass, held together with gold.
Eight other panels covered all but one portion of the walls, one panel for each of the clan lords’ patron images. One mosaic showed a huge bear standing on its hind feet, paws raised to attack, the symbol of Clan Kirylu. In the next panel, a large silver wolf with violet eyes stood beneath a full moon, patron of Clan Dunlurghan. Clan Finlios’s patron was a huge eagle, depicted with its wings spread wide. A stawar with luminous citrine eyes represented Clan Skaecogy. Clan Dromlea’s icon was the gyregon, shown plunging as if into battle, its talons bared. For Clan Tratearmon, a stag with huge antlers. The patron of Clan Veaslieve, a massive black warhorse, looked down from the wall with ruby eyes. Clan Rathtuaim, the last of the old clans, was represented with a huge falcon, its beak open in a war cry. Kiara recognized each of the patron images from the stories she and every Isencroft native had heard from birth. Though the clan lords were long dead, every Crofter claimed to be a descendant from at least one of the clans, and Kiara knew that all of the lords were reputed to be ancestors of the royal line.
The only part of the circular wall not covered with mosaic panels held row upon row of sealed square openings, recesses that held the bones of the dead kings and queens of Isencroft. On the floor at the base of the mosaics, at least a dozen large marble biers ringed the mausoleum room. Atop each bier was the elaborately carved form of the monarch whose death the bier memorialized, and carved into the marble on all four sides of the pedestal were runes and sigils.
The floor of the mausoleum was as ornate as its walls. Colored tiles traced a large circular labyrinth that took most of the floor. A ring of white candles burne
d all around the edge of the labyrinth circle, lit by Felix’s magic. The twisting tile pathway led to four colored candles, and Kiara knew that as she walked the labyrinth, she would come face to face with her spirit guides.
Kiara drew a deep breath as the door closed behind her. Her preparations had been hurried, but complete. She paused, mentally reviewing what she must do. The shadows seemed to move slowly out of the way of the light, as if they did not want to withdraw. In her left hand she carried the basket with the ritual elements. She knelt in the circle of light cast by the torch and opened the basket.
As she worked to prepare the offering, Kiara felt as if she was being watched from the shadows. She had felt the nearness of spirits in the necropolis corridors; now, the revenants crowded in on her. As she set out the elements of the offering, the room grew colder, so that her breath misted.
Kiara made her way carefully through the narrow opening in the candles that traced the outer edge of the labyrinth floor tiles. The path had a single entrance and exit. Followed correctly, the path she took would take her through the intricate, circular twists and turns of the labyrinth and bring her back to the beginning. Kiara took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing her energy and struggling to calm her thoughts. Clearing her mind, she began to follow the tiled path, toward the first candle.
After a few moments, Kiara stood before the candle. It was red, for Chenne, the Warrior Goddess, patron of Isencroft. She looked around the labyrinth at the other candles. White for the Mother and Childe. Pink for the Lover and Whore faces of the Goddess. Black for protection and the favor of Istra, the Dark Lady. Only the two darkest faces, Sinha the Crone and the Formless One, were not invoked.
Turning her attention back to the red candle, Kiara took the piece of charcoal Felix had placed inside the basket and marked a rune. Katen, the rune of succession, lay between the white and red candles. She made her way slowly to the white candle, where she marked another rune.
The Dread: The Fallen Kings Cycle: Book Two Page 18
