Even an hour later, his hands shook, and he stared at the ground with a listless expression that Mikelle could not pinpoint. The Prince seemed to be in a grand mood and so left him alone until he ordered them to pack up after a hot breakfast.
“You don’t think Kindle told him, do you?” she whispered, seated in the saddle as her weakness waned its way out. Gabriel sat to her left and gave a small nod. He looked so miserable even in the ivory coat trimmed in green circular patterns. His shoulders were still hot, so his black Mage cloak hung open and unhooded, his hands covered in black gloves. Mikelle snuggled back in her coat, her head wrapped with a lavender scarf and pinned with her Mage brooch.
Prince Nolen looked as much a prick as Mikelle could imagine, dressed in a dark red coat that fell to his knees and a scarf of vair wrapped around his neck to imitate the nobles’ portraits in Kilkiny. He had an unusually haughty look on his square face at this hour, and as he spoke with his father, his loud laughter seemed all the more annoying. Tabor dressed more modestly in a long coat made of undyed sheepskin, boasting a matching hat and gloves to help him blend into the white landscape. The little Princess Kindle joined them, bundled in fox furs that seemed to dwarf her small frame.
“Join up!” Nolen shouted to the little party. Five servants accompanied them, and they sat on their own ponies wrapped in furs. The Prince marched Shibaler over to Gabriel drew the Elements to lay a sidestep pattern. With Tabor being a Class Six Air Mage, they could easily move wherever they wished now.
“I thought there were wards around this improperly-named Fort,” Mikelle stated loudly. “Your father cannot leave.”
Nolen pinched his lips, irritated that he had to explain as he turned in his saddle. “Repeat that to me when we sidestep out of here.”
“Your father cannot leave,” Mikelle repeated, her glare set.
Nolen ground his teeth. “He cannot step out of the boundary around this place, but sidestepping is quite another thing. It can branch a warded and unwarded location together, and as the place we are traveling to is unwarded, he will be able to leave.”
“I think not.”
Tabor chuckled as he swung into his saddle. “I like her.”
“Do you know how to get to Roshenin?” Kindle asked her brother as she came up and put a hand on Mikelle’s horse.
“Roshenin?” Mikelle asked alarmed, and Gabriel perked his head up a touch. “No one goes there.”
“We are. You are free to stay here,” Nolen smiled. “I know it is on the Northern coast,”
“If you have been to Port Nassa, it is fifty miles north.” Tabor stated, joining up as the servants gathered.
“I can lead,” Nolen replied as Tabor formed his part of the pattern, and together the men fueled it.
The white background molded into a pale yellow landscape. Mikelle had never gotten used to sidestepping, and it unnerved her to think her body transported between spaces. If anything went wrong, she could be torn in two or worse. She flicked her eyes to Gabriel as the dreadful thought occurred to her, and she watched his face to see if he could handle the energy drain. He looked so weak, and he closed his eyes, causing her heart to catch in her throat. ‘Stars forbid, if he died mid-step we would all surely perish.’ She tightened her hand on his forearm.
The yellow landscape sharpened its blurry form as they alighted on hard stone, far from the touch of snow. The air was still bitterly cold, and a wind blew from the east, but Mikelle recognized the salty flavor in the air and knew they were not far from the coast. Arconia was out there somewhere, though much further south where mid-winter was the only time a hearth was lit to cut the chill.
This landscape was bleached by the sun and sparse of greenery. Nolen had placed them on a road surrounded by tall jagged hills of striped stone worn down by wind and rain.
Tabor looked around. “I can put us a little closer. There is a small fishing village northwards if I recall correctly.” The Air Mage wove the patterns again and stepped north by Tabor’s leading; this time closer to the ocean but still surrounded by similar rock formations. “Ride north with the coast.”
They turned their horses to the blue sky ahead and kicked them into trots with Tabor in the lead. The sun illuminated the blanched rocks with rays only morning could bring. Mikelle did not enjoy early mornings, preferring the dark evenings, and the stars they brought. She smothered a yawn at the thought of it.
They rode for the better part of two hours before Kindle pointed ahead to a set of spires peeking over a hill. Roshenin came up on them quickly, spotting the hillside with broken-down farm homes that quickly gave way to buildings and paved roads.
It was everything Mikelle expected it to be. Even in Arconia they knew the story of Barbrielly and Tollen. The City was massive and spread out over a bay, rising and falling with the dip of the sea. The stories were true; every building was warped, melted, or twisted. Some even cut in half horizontally and shifted into the building next to it. A few were severed diagonally and upended. The roads had bubbled and melted, seeping into gaping doorways. At corners the bubbles had burst and left jagged half-formed domes on the walls. Each window had broken glass, and some of it looked freshly blown in long bubbles as though a great wind had burst in. Those stood whole over the Ages. Tabor tossed a rock at one, but it did not shatter.
The horses’ hooves were the only sound in the City, but for the wind that whistled like voices. They continued further in and saw twirling staircases unraveled skyward, buildings across alleys falling against each other, and spires once straight bent at right-angles in morbid fashion.
Kindle pointed ahead to something and spoke quietly with Nolen. Gabriel’s eyes for once were not on the ground, but flitting everywhere in calculating fashion. She even saw him move his wrist and fingers as if mimicking a pattern that could attempt what he saw.
“Do you think we will see her?” Mikelle whispered. There was no reason to speak quietly, but it seemed only right.
“Who?”
“Barbrielly and Tollen.”
“No, they are in Castle Jaden,” Gabriel replied.
“They are never. Stories say—”
“They were moved when Jaden was founded. There is a shrine to them back in the necropolis that has a plaque stating something about stepping on stars—I don’t remember.” He looked out over the ocean through the buildings. “I’ve never seen the sea before. I don’t know why people keep comparing it to my eyes.”
“The sea changes, pet. It reflects the sky and ocean floor,” Mikelle explained, though as far as she knew, nothing in nature had produced the color of his eyes. Not azure or cobalt or…she could not think of a name for them. Like the ocean, his eyes reflected his mood.
“Do you know how to turn someone to stone?” Nolen suddenly asked loudly.
Gabriel put his eyes down. “No. That pattern was struck from the records after this tragedy.”
“Shame, I should like to see it.”
They glimpsed the first human statue; a woman in a window who had turned to look behind her. Her image was so lifelike and haunting that Mikelle’s hair on her arms and neck stood up. “Do you think she knew?”
Kindle was the one to reply. “She has no fear in her face.”
“Is that the southernmost palace?” Nolen asked and pointed to a grand structure with four massive towers, each twisted and one split down the middle and peeled like a banana. “It sits on a hill.”
Kindle turned around. “It must be.”
Nolen looked at Gabriel. “Are you prepared?”
Gabriel did not reply. He inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth in a fashion most unlike him. She wondered what was going through his head.
“I’m not going to make it out of here,” he said quietly.
She pinched her lips. “What nonsense is this?”
“The Castrofax. It is draining me of my energy. I’m a well now, and when Nolen uses the last of my energy, I will not be able to exist, and I will perish.” He gave her no time to
question or think a rebuttal. “Tell my parents I am sorry it came to this. Tell them I fought as long as I could.”
Her mouth worked silently. She had not expected this by any means. She grew fond of him and had intended on staying in Anatoly to continue serving him—protecting him; she was not a servant. “And have you nothing to say for me to cling to once you’re gone?”
He gave her the smallest of smiles that said not to pity him. “I have valued your loyalty and thank you for it.”
She was not satisfied. “What if you make it out? What then?”
He arched his eyebrows as if in pain. “Then the world will know I was the man who freed the Silex.”
“You can still make this right, Gabriel. You do not have to do what he tells you.”
“My lady, I have no choice.”
“What is keeping you so rooted?”
He gave no response, but the pained look he gave her said volumes. It was something she never forgot.
The palace was not like Kilkiny or Shshonan, but was rather a massive home, larger than a manor but as grand as any. It boasted strange architecture, but Mikelle could not tell if it was Barbrielly’s work or the actual construction that made it unusual. The strangest part was the door. It was the only building she had seen with an intact door, a large wooden piece that would buckle inward if pushed. Most of the stairs to it were smashed.
“When was the Silex hidden?” Mikelle asked.
“Arch Mage Ryker was in possession of it during the battle of Kinsdale upon Warwic. The histories say he and Pike Bronwen were forced to hibernate after they lost the Silex. It was hidden shortly after,” Kindle replied.
Mikelle frowned. “I am not familiar with that battle.”
“It was the battle that gave Ryker a reputation. It happened just before the Third Age.”
Gabriel dismounted and left his cloak over the saddle. He moved to help Mikelle, but she unseated herself without his help, not wishing to hurt his shoulders. She left her bulky coat behind, wrapping herself up in her shawl. She had picked a dark purple dress with split skirts, and a wide belt of brown leather to match her boots. As far as she was concerned, she was the best dressed female among them. Though Nolen was a close second.
“Come along,” Nolen commanded and mounted the stairs. It was a long trek up sixty or more steps, but the worst of the damage had been done to the bottom, so when they reached the top, they were greeted with a pleasantly undamaged landing that overlooked the City. It was a vast place, and ended so suddenly by the hands of a single woman. Some people called Barbrielly an Anomaly, others said she was a freak creation, but others said she was Earth herself, the embodiment of the Element.
The doors of the palace stood before them, flanked by two large statues of carved warthogs. One split in two, and the other blurred as if caught in a windstorm. The Prince stopped his forward motion to view the structure.
“Father, would you do us the honors?” Nolen asked and motioned to the door.
Tabor gave a proud nod and laid an Air pattern. Putting his hands up, he forced a great gust of wind forward, and the doors buckled with a crash and screech that echoed through the whole City.
Robyn lacked the energy to pace, but she did so regardless, so the maids would not catch her. She had been given her old rooms in Kilkiny Palace down the hall from the Queen’s apartments; a lavish bed chamber with a sitting room and a drawing room. It had been kept just the way she left it.
She had been appointed maids to tend to her needs, but it had been two years since she had one, and she found in their absence that she had gotten along rather well. She could dress herself; do her hair; and lace her own boots. She stopped suddenly at the thought and put a hand on her stomach. Once, she had been able to do those things. The missing hand hid under the flap of the red cloak Secondhand Lael had given her. But she was only hiding it from herself. The maids and servants already knew, and if they still gossiped the way they used to, the whole palace knew by now.
They had already dressed her in battle garb, a tight-fitting corset of exposed tan boning against brown leather. It flared to low red skirts, divided down the middle, and cinched at her knees. They swapped out the old boots Gabriel made for her and found sturdy brown leather instead. A creamy shirt with flowing sleeves and high buttoned neck sat under the corset, and over that Lael’s cloak. The maids had done up her golden hair in five swirling buns that all joined together in a sturdy fashion. It gave her a noble look. She looked like a Princess, but on this day, the day of her twentieth birth anniversary, she felt like a Queen. It was only a matter of time before Miranda stepped down, and Robyn was given her proper birthright.
The maids hovered in every room, one wanting to fix her hair, another wishing to serve her tea, and a third asking what furnishings she wished in the washroom, so she found herself before a window looking over the City. She gave one maid who got too close a cautionary look.
A page opened the door to announce Lady Aisling, and Robyn admitted her. She had been waiting for word all day. The plan was for Head Mage Casimir and a party of four other Class Sixes to venture to the place they expected Gabriel to be and return with news. Aisling, unfortunately, had no air of excitement about her, so Robyn knew she meant business. She was looking lovely as ever in a long green gown with a pattern of pink pumpkins and autumn leaves around the hem and arms.
“You are not dressed for battle,” Robyn observed.
“I do battle of a different kind in a dress,” Aisling smiled. “And I prefer fighting in skirts; they are so liberating.”
“I find them constricting.”
“A Lady is never permitted trousers, so I learned to live without them. I will not think less of you if behind closed doors you abandon dresses,” Aisling smiled a little. “You know a Queen must look the part.”
“I will wear dresses and crowns and capes and tall shoes as it is required of me. But I shall not like them.”
Aisling chuckled. “We can agree on that. Here, I brought you something.” She proffered a little black bag. Robyn untied it skillfully with one hand and pulled out a silver crown in the shape of a horseshoe. It had a peak in the center, and a blue jewel set in it. “This is a Princess battle-crown. Back when Anatoly was new and the borders had yet to be set, Princesses used to ride out with their mothers to fight. They never really bloodied themselves, but it was always profitable to have them on the field as it lifted the soldiers’ spirits. I pulled this out of the treasuries thinking you might like to wear it today. It belonged to Queen Claudette Oden. She was the first Queen to gift land to the Mages, the land we now call Jaden.”
Robyn looked at it in the sunlight. It had a dozen diamonds specked through the peak, and down the sides as well. “It is beautiful. Would you put it in on for me?”
Aisling took it back and slid it into the twirls of her hair securely. “Now you look the part.” She looked sad for a moment and added, “Gabriel thinks you dead. You must get him to see you as soon as possible. We hope it will give him a push in the right direction.”
Robyn had been thinking the same thing. “Aisling, what if this goes awry?”
“How so?”
“What if Gabriel cannot be saved? What if he dies?”
Aisling swallowed. “I try not to think of such things.”
“It is my plan to marry him. He will have to plan his life accordingly.”
Aisling smiled. “I had hoped so. That was why I sent you to him.”
“You could never have known he would be so powerful.”
“It is a selfish plan only a mother could make.”
“I can still marry him, yes?”
“I am counting on it.”
Robyn chuckled at the thought. “Women make him nervous.”
“As well we should!” They laughed together.
‘I wonder how nervous they have made him.’ Robyn thought. She had no right to banish the Arconian Queen and her ladies, and she had made sure not to venture to their part of the palace. She
would surely poke their eyes out if she saw one. No one was talking, and no maids had any rumors, but she still feared she had not heard the whole tale. She wanted to hear it from his lips, but she wanted to know now. It was not her place to ask him, but as Queen….
“A Queen outranks a Class Ten.”
Aisling raised a confused brow. “Is that a question? Yes, she does, in her own kingdom. In Jaden a Class Ten is the ranking power.” Aisling moved to leave. “It should not be too long now.”
“Head Mage Casimir has only been gone an hour.”
“With luck he will be ready to move when he returns. I would have your things gathered.” Aisling gave a nod and stepped out into the hall.
Robyn was ready. She had been prepared since midnight. An armorer had been summoned to find a bow she could carry, and the short recurve sat across a couch with a full quiver. She could not fire a bow any longer, but she felt naked without the familiar touch across her back.
She turned back to the window and thought of Gabriel so far away without hope of the rescue she was bringing. All night she had been plagued with the idea of his demise. She spent many waking hours planning her life over the years, and Gabriel had been in most of them. Now with the prospect of his immediate death, she was forced to hold her breath every few minutes at the thought.
Of all men, she thought he would be the last to break. ‘I wonder what it was like, to feel everything inside you die at once. Or is it like slowly slipping down a hill without a catch, a progressive thing with an obvious outcome? Would he compare it to one of his Elements, like inhaling a breath of water he tried so hard to stave off, or being suddenly consumed by fire?’
She bit her lip and felt the breath catch in her chest.
Breaking Stars (Book 2) Page 15
