The Consort

by K. A. Linde

  She grinned as she looked down at it but knew that Matilde and Vera wouldn’t approve, so she reined it back in. She and Ceffy were warm, but the snow was mostly intact.

  Her concentration wavered as she tried to work outward from there. Warm the whole party. It was like stretching a rubber band. She would pull it far enough until it was taut and then pray that it didn’t pop.

  Avoca smiled like a fool when Cyrene enveloped her in the warmth. “You’ve got it!”

  “Still cold up here,” Ahlvie groaned.

  “Just a minute,” Cyrene ground out.

  “Breathe through it. It’s like flexing a muscle. Don’t overexert yourself. Let it do the work for you,” Vera coached.

  Cyrene nodded and tried to listen to her advice. Stretching her magical muscles was more like trying to carry a sack of bricks uphill. But she did it. Her magic covered Matilde and then Vera, and with a burst of energy, she shoved the barrier around Orden and Ahlvie.

  Ahlvie cheered, “Thank the Creator!”

  “Good. Now, hold it there,” Matilde said. “At least until I can feel my fingers again.”

  Cyrene trotted along, holding on to her magic by sheer force of will. She knew that she could essentially snap the barrier into place and keep them warm for the entirety of the ride. It would be a power suck but more like background noise. The majority of the energy had gone into creating the warmth. She could contain it at a much lower cost. She’d had to do that with Doma Fire, a ball of energy that illuminated about ten feet in every direction. A very useful piece of magic. But they weren't letting her tie the heat off now on purpose.

  They had just crested a ridge when they all gasped at the scene below them. The mountains opened up to reveal the Keylani River overlooking Tahne, Carhara’s capital city. It was a stunning view with the snow-white landscape brushed with gray stone under the snowcapped spires of the city. Even though Tahne was only a few hours north by boat from Byern, Cyrene had never seen the lauded city with its stunning glass windows that made the entire place gleam and shine.

  “Wow,” she whispered, shielding her eyes against the sun shining off the glass.

  “Cyrene,” Matilde snapped.

  Cyrene cursed violently under her breath. All of that hard work for nothing. One distraction, and her fire was already down.

  “Can you just do it, so Ahlvie stops swearing at me?” Cyrene asked. “Let’s focus on the coin instead.”

  “Uh, guys,” Ahlvie said. He snapped to attention. His eyes were bright and searching out the terrain.

  “What is it?” Avoca asked, immediately on alert.

  Orden retreated a dozen paces down the mountain and then stopped. “It’s silent.”

  “Ambush,” Ahlvie said at once.

  And then the Indres attacked.

  They came out of nowhere. Nearly ten feet long, their fangs as long as arrows, their yellow eyes thirsty for flesh. Their fur was unlike the ones they had encountered in the Hidden Forest; those had been the color of dirt. These Indres blended into the mountainside with white hides that made them practically impossible to see.

  Cyrene grasped a ball of fire in her hand and hurled it at the nearest Indres. It squealed at the direct hit, fell to the ground, and turned head-on to face her. The eyes on that beast were as intelligent as any person. It had just registered her as the threat and was growling something to the other Indres.

  Not good.

  Cyrene’s heart pounded as she watched the Indres regroup and focus in on her. Matilde and Vera joined hands and were muttering something under their breath. Avoca reached out and linked with Cyrene. She tugged on their bond, communicating their next objective without words. Orden had a blade in his hand and was facing off with two of the beasts. Ahlvie was lost behind her. She knew he could hold his own.

  When she tried to tally up how many there were, they all began to blur together, and she lost count. It was a lot. More than the last time she had seen them. Not an encouraging sight.

  The beasts moved as one as they bounded toward her. She shot a fireball at one, but by the time she had another one up, they were upon her. Ceffy reeled in fear, and she skidded backward in the snowy terrain. Avoca rushed in, using her blades to slash throats and magic to push the creatures back.

  Matilde and Vera finally finished and then pushed their magic outward. It rattled the Indres, blasting them back into the mountain and blowing the snow and debris away from them in a perfect circle.

  “Retreat!” Orden yelled.

  No one argued with that assessment. They were outnumbered.

  Cyrene wheeled Ceffy around and took off at a gallop down the mountain. Her hair whipped in the wind. Her cheeks hurt, and her lips were chapped, but she didn’t look back, and she didn’t stop.

  By the time they reached the bottom of the mountainside, Ceffy was panting and slowing down. She couldn’t blame her. Her own adrenaline was ripping through her system. She had no trouble with keeping warm now.

  “How did they know where we would be?” Cyrene asked.

  “The Nokkin,” Matilde guessed.

  Orden nodded. “Generals whispering to their beast armies.”

  “Yes.”

  “Abhorrent,” Avoca muttered.

  “Indeed,” Vera agreed.

  Cyrene looked back at her friends. Then, she turned her head to look back up the mountain. “Where is Ahlvie?”

  Avoca swore. “He was right beside me.”

  Cyrene cursed, and then she wheeled Ceffy around and set off at a gallop. She could hear Avoca thundering behind her. Their horses were panting when they finally made it back up the mountain to where the dead Indres lay. There were tracks everywhere, in every direction.

  “You go that way,” Cyrene said, pointing toward the second largest group of tracks. “And I’ll follow these. Tug on the bond if you find anything.”

  Avoca nodded, and then they swiftly departed. Cyrene searched and searched, but there was no sign of any of the Indres who had just attacked them. It was as if they had vanished. And, by the time she made it back to the place where they had been attacked, it was nearly nightfall.

  Orden was waiting for them along with Matilde and Vera.

  “Did you find him?” Cyrene asked.

  “No,” Orden said. “I found nothing.”

  Matilde and Vera shook their heads. They hadn’t seen anything either.

  Avoca returned, looking defeated. “The tracks went every direction. Even with my good eyesight, I would not be able to follow them at night.”

  “So, what? We just hope it doesn’t snow tonight? That we don’t lose the tracks?”

  Orden sighed. “I think that is all we can do.”

  “He’ll be back,” Matilde said.

  “He knows what he’s doing,” Vera confirmed.

  “He was just attacked! He could be bleeding out,” Cyrene said.

  “You saw no blood,” Vera said. “I suspect he will find us by morning.”

  “But how will he find us?” Cyrene asked.

  “He will know that we went into the city, and he will find Avoca.”

  “I’m so confused.”

  Matilde sighed and glanced over at Vera. “I’m sure he would prefer if he told you.”

  “Told us what?” Avoca asked. Her eyes were wide with worry.

  Orden trotted between them. “The boy has secrets a plenty. But we should be on our way if we want to reach Tahne by sunset.”

  Avoca’s and Cyrene’s eyes drifted up to the mountainside. No Indres were visible. Nothing was visible. Cyrene couldn’t believe that they were going to leave Ahlvie behind. But they had done all that they could. If they weren’t in the city by sundown, they’d have nowhere to rest.

  She reluctantly turned her horse back toward the city and followed them to the enormous Carharan wall that Tahne was famous for. From inside, the city was lit up like a Burst. From the outside, the city could hold a siege for years. The walls were twenty feet tall and two feet thick and encompassed the en
tire city. There were only two entrances, and both would be closed by sundown.

  A dozen guards were stationed at the entrance, and just as many other were on the top of the wall with bows and arrows aimed in all directions. Carhara had always been known for their military. Cyrene knew that they were constantly attempting to gain more territory for themselves but never made much headway. Tiek was always pressing back at their borders, and the mountains kept them out of Byern.

  “Business?” the man asked.

  “We’re looking for an inn for the night. We’ll be on our way at first light,” Orden promised. He smoothly passed a bag of gold into the man’s hand.

  Cyrene almost laughed. You could take the lord out of Aurum, but you couldn’t take Aurum out of the lord.

  “Excellent. I recommend the inn down the main street, The Crow and the Ax. Can’t miss it.”

  “Much obliged,” Orden said regally.

  Then, they were hastened into the city.

  Cyrene was captivated by the interior and how much the city bloomed, despite being confined to this one space. They couldn’t sprawl out, so glass buildings had been built up, up, up to dizzying heights that were usually reserved for castles. Friendly faces mingled with hardened military men, and fragrant spices wafted toward them with the sound of laughter from children running. It was much the same as all the other cities that Cyrene had seen, except buildings were stacked on top of each other. It was enough to make anyone feel claustrophobic.

  “I’m glad we’re only here for a night,” she whispered to Avoca.

  “You and me both. The air always feels wrong in a city. And the earth is so trampled, it can hardly breathe.”

  Cyrene nodded. This time, she knew exactly what Avoca meant.

  They found The Crow and the Ax with ease, as the soldier had said. Orden dismounted and walked up the few steps before he was greeted by a curvy woman of middle years with a heart-shaped face and a broad smile.

  “Gerild send you?” she asked, eagerly looking Orden up and down.

  “He did,” Orden confirmed.

  Though Cyrene knew he hadn’t heard the man’s name before.

  “He has good taste. I’m Margrite. You’ll need a night for you and your”—Margrite looked up at the rest of them—“wife and family?”

  Orden’s eyes smiled for him. Cyrene could see he was trying not to laugh at the woman. Other than Matilde and Vera, none of them looked related in the slightest. Margrite was fishing for information.

  “Just my sisters and their apprentices. We’d appreciate three rooms for the night.”

  Margrite smiled. “Sisters, sisters. All right. I can do three. I’ll get some lads to stable the horses in the back and bring your things in. Come inside and get yourself warm. Can’t imagine being out in this weather.”

  Margrite made three more blatant attempts to gain Orden’s attention before dumping us all in our rooms and storming off.

  “Well, she’s pleasant,” Orden said.

  “We’d probably get free rooms if you were interested in a fancy,” Matilde said with a snicker.

  Orden held up another bag of money. “I’d rather pay her coin than warm her bed. She must have that Gerild at the front poaching for her.”

  Cyrene cleared her throat. “That is all well and fine, but what about Ahlvie? We left him on that mountain.”

  Matilde and Vera glanced at each other and sighed.

  “If we had thought he was in trouble, we would never have left him. Trust us. If he does not return tonight, then we will march right out there and kill every last feral beast to get to him,” Matilde promised.

  Avoca twirled her blade. “I will kill them with my bare hands if they hurt a hair on his head.”

  “In the meantime,” Vera interrupted, “we should all try to get a good night’s sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us before we even reach the Aude River through Mastira. We should all pray to the Creator that it has not frozen over yet.”

  “At least Cyrene will have mastered her talent of heating by then,” Matilde offered with a sly grin.

  “I will master it,” she said confidently.

  “I believe you, child.”

  Cyrene and Avoca retreated to their rooms, and both collapsed back into the bed. It wasn’t the nicest thing either of them had ever lain on by far, but it felt like it after so many days on the ground.

  “Why do you believe they are so calm about Ahlvie’s disappearance?” Avoca questioned.

  Cyrene shook her head, pulling out the Doma book and skimming the pages, as she had taken to doing every night before bed. “Only Ahlvie will be able to tell that tale. You know how they get when they’ve decided on a course of action.”

  “Don’t think for a second they’re more stubborn than you are.”

  “I’d never dream of it, but I know which battles to pick.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Avoca’s eyes slid closed. Almost instantly, her breath evened out, and she was asleep. It was a skill Cyrene wished she had.

  When she finally fell asleep, she was tossing and turning. Nightmares plagued her as she was torn between a vision of Serafina begging her to use the coin and that disembodied darkness urging her to come to it.

  She woke with a scream before first light, and Avoca shot up in her bed, a blade in her hand, ready to kill a threat that wasn’t there.

  But then they both realized that the window was open.

  “Did you open that?” Cyrene asked.

  Avoca shook her head. Their eyes gazed around the room, and they startled, pressing their bodies back against the wall, as a full-bodied Indres lay, sprawled out, on the floor of their room.

  Cyrene’s scream was full-bodied and terrified. Her magic burst to life in her core, and she pulled energy tight to her as she prepared to attack. Avoca held her blades in her hands and crouched in a defensive position, like a predator.

  But her scream had startled the beast. It rose on its haunches and looked at them with the same intensity that the last Indres had in the mountains. Much too intelligent for a normal beast.

  Avoca let loose a blade, and it struck the creature in the shoulder. It roared in pain. But, instead of charging her and taking her out, like Cyrene had always seen them do before, it backed further into the corner. Further away from them.

  As if to say, No, please, not me. I’m sorry.

  “Wait,” Cyrene said when Avoca went to land the killing blow. “Its eyes.”

  “Gold,” Avoca whispered.

  “Human,” Cyrene added.

  And then, before their eyes, the creature shifted form. At one point, it was a ten-foot-long beast, ready to rip their throats out, and the next…it was a naked man, trembling in the dark room.

  Not just any man.

  “Ahlvie?” Avoca gasped.

  The door burst open then.

  Orden had his blade at the ready. “I heard a scream.”

  His eyes darted to Ahlvie lying naked on the floor. He immediately removed his cloak and covered him up. Both girls were too shell-shocked to understand what they had just seen.

  “I’ll get him cleaned up,” Orden said, taking charge. “Meet in the twins’ room.” When he saw that neither of them was moving, he barked louder, “Now!”

  Avoca and Cyrene jumped, as if they had just been shaken awake. Cyrene nodded her head at Orden, and he hastened Ahlvie out of their room. They each changed into something more presentable and then walked, uncomprehending, into the next room.

  Matilde and Vera were seated in a corner, serving tea, as if nothing at all had happened in the hours since they last saw them.

  “How is he?” Vera asked.

  “An Indres,” Cyrene said, wincing at the words.

  “I don’t…I don’t understand,” Avoca said. Her face was grim. She looked more like Ahlvie had died.

  “Orden will bring him in when he’s prepared to talk. I know this is a long time coming for him,” Vera explained.

  “How long?” Avoca dem
anded.

  “Patience,” Matilde snapped. “Drink this. It will help with the nerves.”

  “What’s in it? A spell?” Avoca asked, taking the drink.

  “Very similar. It helps loosen the muscles and releases tension and inhibitions. We call it whiskey.”

  Avoca shot her a humorless look before taking a drink. She coughed heartily and then downed the whole thing. She passed the cup back. “I’ll take another.”

  “Cyrene?” Vera asked.

  “No.”

  “Suit yourself,” Matilde said.

  When Ahlvie finally entered the room, he looked like a hollowed out shadow figure of the man he had been. Orden took a seat next to Vera, and then they all waited. Ahlvie stared at the ground, at his hands, at his shoes, at anything but them.

  “So, I guess you know now,” Ahlvie said with a short laugh, as if the whole thing were one big joke.

  “How long?” Avoca demanded. Her voice was tight and clipped.

  Ahlvie winced at the venom in it. “Maybe I should start from the beginning.”

  Cyrene could almost see him putting on his tattered mendicant costume before a performance in the pub back in Eleysia. He seemed able to tell a story if he became someone else. Not the man who had been an Indres, but the charade he concocted around himself. The one Cyrene always saw as the pomp, bombast, and bluster that made Ahlvie, Ahlvie.

  He finally lifted his gaze and searched them out, one by one. He flinched at the intensity in Avoca’s eyes, but he seemed relieved that Cyrene was facing him head-on. She could only imagine what was running through his head.

  “The year I was born, a devastating attack hit Fen. Wolves came out of nowhere and slaughtered dozens of people. Huge wolves. Enormous wolves. Wolves that no one had ever seen or would ever see again. We had a name for them, passed down through legend, but no one dared speak it at the time. Not with so many dead. My father included,” Ahlvie said. “That was about twenty years ago.”

  Avoca startled. “Was that the night Aonia was sacked?”

  “As far as I can tell, it is in the right time frame from what you’ve told me.” Ahlvie chuckled once. “I guess Ceis’f and I have more in common than he thinks.”