Palom (World of Linaria Book 2)

by L. L. McNeil

  Talk of ancient powers had changed things. Drastically.

  If his fear was right, Sapora would ruin them all.

  His heart pounded.

  He had to get away. Had to get Lathri away. Before he lost someone else he loved.

  ‘I thought you were supposed to be a great warrior,’ Voulhrik said, sneering. ‘You’ve won a single battle and now you want to run? Some hero.’

  ‘I never said I was hero,’ Palom said, rising to his feet, Voulhrik mirroring the action. ‘I never asked to be one.’ He drew the sword from his back and pointed it across the table. ‘If it wasn’t for Moroda, Aciel would have beaten us hundred times over. Sapora is worse than upstart Arillian. You want my opinion and knowledge on him? Trust me. He is greater threat. If any of what you say is true, we cannot stand against him.’

  ‘Voulhrik. Palom. Please,’ Lathri said, raising her hands. ‘I said before that sword is too powerful. Think carefully about what you mean to do with it.’

  Lathri’s energy wrapped around him. Palom felt his heartbeat in his throat, sweat on his forehead. He tightened his grip on the sword’s hilt.

  All it would take was a flick of his wrist. A tiny, inconsequential movement, and Voulhrik’s head would be severed. His world dimmed, Lathri’s voice muffled as he focussed on his blade and the man who stood before it.

  The weapon’s desire filled his mind, competing with Lathri’s magic, and his hand trembled.

  ‘I do not know all of Sapora’s power. I do not know if he is causing this…this…sickness in city. But I know enough to understand it is no safe place for Ittallan anymore. We should leave while we can. All of us. Now.’

  ‘Leave the city? The capital of Val Sharis? There’s no safer place in the world.’ Kylos scoffed.

  ‘With that snake here, it is now most dangerous place.’

  Lathri’s magic intensified, and the hairs on Palom’s arms stood up. ‘Palom, we have a duty to our people. We can’t rely on the Imperial Guard as we have before. This sickness may not be Sapora. But we can’t run, or we’re handing victory to him. Aciel is gone thanks to you, but he’s paved the way for the next conqueror. We’ve enjoyed peace for far too long. We must be ready. We can’t turn against each other.’

  It would take the tiniest movement.

  ‘Please.’

  Glaring at Voulhrik, Palom lowered his sword, and rested the tip on the table. ‘Lathri. Aciel’s war is over. Let Sapora rule. His father was king. By law, he has right to be here, even if we don’t like this. Now, he might be planning to kill all Ittallan…Why put yourself in danger? People die in wars.’

  ‘So, you won’t help us?’ Desperation edged her voice.

  ‘Lathri, let’s get away from… from… this.’ He gestured to the table with his free hand. ‘I fought Mateli when I was sixteen. It was right thing to do. I lost people. I fought Aciel for same reason and lost more people. I won’t fight Sapora, too, or whatever darkness lurks in Taban Yul.’

  His attention lingered on Lathri.

  ‘I’m not asking you to fight if you don’t wish to. But stand with us, Palom. You can’t run forever,’ Lathri pleaded.

  Even with his Valta Forinja, Palom didn’t know if he could take on Sapora and all his Varkain. He didn’t want to come to blows with the snake, not if what he feared was true. He’d already been part of ending one war. Immediately starting another would be madness.

  He closed his eyes.

  ‘I can’t.’

  He turned away, ignoring their words as he left the room and exited the tavern.

  It would be a cold funeral tomorrow.

  Chapter Two

  Frigid wind bit into Amarah’s skin as she gripped the wheel of her airship, Khanna. She cursed, struggling to keep on course while besieged by the weather. According to her guide, the blizzard would keep her safe from wandering Arillians who might see her as a threat and attack, but as another wave of turbulence almost threw her from her feet, she pursed her lips in annoyance. The driving snow seemed more likely to pluck her from the sky than offer security. She scowled, adjusting her sails for the hundredth time.

  He might have been at home in the snow and wind, but Khanna struggled.

  Her guide flew ahead of her, only a few ship-lengths ahead and yet nigh invisible in the raging storm—a storm he created to shield them as they flew deeper into their territory. They were the enemy, and yet she was heading right into their midst of her own free will. It was nothing short of madness.

  They harboured a deep magic, old as Linaria itself. Generally, Amarah had no time for such sorcery, yet this particular branch of magic held the smallest of potentials for her: a prize too tempting to pass up. Her guide had given her good reason to believe that this Arillian power could resurrect those lost from Linaria.

  It sounded like foolishness, but any chance—no matter how slim—had to be taken, didn’t it? It was how she’d made the most of the opportunities that had presented themselves over the years. Plus, if things turned sour and this old magic couldn’t do what it claimed, she had her weapon, she had her wit, and she had her guide—Kohl.

  The Arillians were a brutal race, full of storms and destruction, leaving a trail of devastation whenever they visited the mainland countries in Linaria. Two wars against Arillians had certainly not warmed Amarah to them. Plus, they were so far removed from the rest of Linaria that any stories which made it to the mainland were cast aside as myths.

  No-one could really have half the magic and mystery as the Arillians claimed. A hidden paradise, eclipsed from the rest of Linaria, with secrets and treasures and—surely the biggest myth of them all—the protection of an ice golem army that kept any would-be invaders out.

  No.

  It was nonsense.

  Amarah expected a barren rock, much like people who made up stories to sound important and wealthy but actually had nothing of value.

  Peering over the side of Khanna, she saw a blanket of white mottled with grey spanning as far as the eye could see. Quite where the frozen sea gave way to frozen land, she couldn’t tell; a thick layer of snow covered everything and attempting to discern the finer details gave her a headache. White and grey blurred together, and the wind forced her to squint. She could just barely make out the dark silhouette of some scavenging animals, a bear, perhaps, or maybe a fox.

  In the far distance, just on the edge of her vision, the mottled grey gave way to a pair of large, bleak mountains rising from the flat land. An imposing darkness in an otherwise white world, they were twin gates to the Arillian settlement of Oren, part of the scattered islands at Linaria’s northern-most tip. Amarah prided herself on her experience exploring the skies as a self-proclaimed and oft-hunted pirate—she boasted there was no land she had not visited, no secret place left to find, no treasure hidden from her eyes. Yet she had never travelled here before.

  There was nothing here worth knowing, she would have said in defence to those who might have questioned why.

  Kohl had warned her that Oren had never seen outsiders, and a warm welcome was unlikely. Amarah had shrugged. She’d stayed in the open, slept behind rocks, and even in a badger’s set once when pressed for cover. Comfort was always optional. It wasn’t a trip for pleasure.

  Amarah looked at the state of her ship, at the charred wood and ripped sails, the way it lurched whenever a particularly strong gust of wind caught her. A year ago, she’d have never been seen in such a place. But now? She fought for someone else, for something other than gold, riches, and enhancing her own prestige.

  It was what she told herself to justify being out in the middle of a frozen tundra.

  Kohl slowed his pace abruptly, and Amarah glanced up at the sudden halt. She pulled a lever to fan out her sails and brake. She watched as he flew close, hovering above where she stood at Khanna’s wheel. ‘What’s going on? We can’t be there yet?’

  In a flurry of snow, Kohl landed gently in a half-crouch. Wind whipped around his feet and hat as his large, feathered wings br
ushed the floor. ‘We’re going to be inspected,’ he announced. ‘The golems have requested we halt.’

  ‘Golems?’ Amarah’s heart pounded. ‘They’re…real? They’re here?’

  ‘Ice golems, yes. You didn’t believe they’re our guardians? They shouldn’t attack you, not with me here.’ He turned to face her now the wind had died down, his pale, leathery skin stark in the evening sun. Scars criss-crossed his cheek and a chunk of his lip was missing. She’d thought him fearsome when they’d first met and had seen him take down a rampaging dragon single-handedly, but in the same breath, she’d never known someone so averse to fighting.

  Amarah knew he ached for his home yet avoided his kin. He’d been in the wars, literally and figuratively, though she didn’t know the extent of his history. From their time together, he gave away very little, and Amarah wasn’t one to pry. Dragons above, she liked her own privacy, and was perfectly content to keep as quiet on her past as Kohl chose to with his. But ice golems? Even among legends, they were myths.

  Her weapon, a scythe forged with dragon ore and layered, lightened steel, was formidable against most enemies. Yet for all the weapon’s famed power, it surely couldn’t do anything against the Arillian guardians. She had to trust in Kohl, much as she’d rather run.

  Whether the golems were ice made living, a creation of the Everwinter so far north, or some other magic she couldn’t hope to understand, Amarah didn’t know. The strength of their defences was legendary. It’s why their stories were dismissed. A power like that just couldn’t be real.

  ‘What do I do?’ she asked, looking at the ground below for these creatures who had demanded she halt.

  ‘Nothing. They will tell me when we may pass.’

  With a huff, she scratched the side of her neck, caught her skin with her nail and drew blood. She swore at the pain. ‘Hope they don’t take long to decide. I can’t afford another sail to freeze! It’ll be night soon!’ She knew fear drove her frustration but ignored the tightness in her chest.

  ‘Patience.’ He waved a hand, stepping away from the airship captain to the side of the deck. His cloak, brown and faded with age, was still now that he had halted the storm surrounding them. Kohl removed his wide brimmed, sagging hat, and dusted it off while he waited: a slow, methodical action she’d seen him perform many times.

  It irritated her.

  ‘Patience. Damn patience. Why can’t I go now? They’re on the ground, right? I can fly over them.’

  Kohl put his hat on after adjusting it and looked back at her. ‘I wouldn’t risk it if I were you. They’ve stood guard here for eons. They allow only those who are worthy. It’s why no army has ever launched an attack on my home country; why no outsider has ever entered without escort. They are as old as the ice here, created from it, and the power which gives them life is older than the dragons themselves. They cannot be moved, harmed, defeated. You will not be the exception if you try to thwart them.’

  Kohl spoke softly, but Amarah shivered at his words. She pushed aside her immediate instinct to retaliate and exhaled through her nose, mulling over her choices. ‘Older than the dragons? Hah. Rhea herself created Linaria, everyone knows that.’

  All talk she’d ever heard of the golems had been from drunkards. She’d wondered, but not truly believed they existed. Their being real went against the lore of Rhea, dragons, and the very essence of Linaria’s magic. Went against the creation story of how Linaria had come into being, went against what Berel taught. Everyone in Linaria knew how the world worked, including magic.

  The golems just couldn’t have been real.

  And yet, here she was, and here they were.

  She placed her hands on her hips to keep from pacing, her scythe a few steps away if she needed to grab it. Even if it would do nothing against the ice golems, just having it close made her feel safe.

  ‘Of course Rhea created Linaria,’ Kohl replied, closing his eyes. A sudden gust of freezing air blasted the ship, rocking it where it hovered. ‘We can pass. Let’s go. Quickly.’ Kohl took to the air again.

  Amarah had half-crouched, balancing against the violent shake, her eyes darting about for any hidden threat. ‘You sure?’

  ‘They’ve been known to change their minds. Let’s not give them reason to,’ Kohl replied, flapping his wings and flying ahead.

  ‘I don’t like all this damned sorcery.’ She pushed the lever back in and grabbed the ship’s wheel, turning it to follow Kohl.

  A flutter of panic rushed through her chest as the gap between the two mountains drew near. She had killed Arillians in a battle half a world away only a week ago—brethren of those she would see soon. The troops whose lives she had taken were not themselves when she’d ended their pain; they were under Aciel’s compulsion. Did that justify what she’d done? Did it matter who they were or what they thought when she’d defended herself? Would the survivors even remember what had happened?

  Kohl had fought with her. And Morgen, an officer in the Imperial Guard, typically her greatest enemy—she’d spent half her life running from them. But they’d put aside their differences to unite against Aciel. Palom had fought as well. Then there was the Varkain Prince, Sapora, who’d slunk off to his tunnels before the fighting had even begun.

  Damned snake.

  She’d lost companions, too. Palom’s business partner and brother in all but blood, Anahrik, had perished. And Eryn, a Goldstone from the city of Niversai. Amarah hadn’t been surprised at that—the girl had never fought before. She had no place on the battlefield against trained warriors.

  Kohl, however, was the reason they’d died: indirectly, by fleeing, abandoning them when ambushed, and directly, by fathering the Arillian General who’d killed them: Jato.

  When he’d revealed his relationship to Jato, Amarah’s anger towards him dissipated. She acted in her own self-interest all the time. Kohl was just doing the same.

  But his actions had split the group. Betrayal clearly wasn’t common outside thieves. She understood why he’d done what he had. Everyone was always out for themselves. It wasn’t like he’d physically stabbed them in the back.

  But in the same breath, a few days after the loss of their friends, she’d lost the one person who’d saved them. Eryn’s older sister, a Goldstone with so much spirit and inner strength it had caught her by surprise. Moroda’s determination to see the good in everyone, to bring an end to the fighting, to protect those she loved…It was because of Moroda’s actions that Amarah was still alive.

  And she hated being in debt.

  The entire world had bowed, ready to break under Aciel and his army, but Moroda had sought strength and delivered. She’d sacrificed herself for it. Readily sacrificed herself. If Amarah felt any guilt for her way of life, of pirating and thieving, taking what she could without care for anything or anyone else, it was watching Moroda die without reaping any of the rewards herself.

  The mountains grew as she flew Khanna towards them, her unease increasing the closer she got. Unfamiliar ground. She glanced to Kohl as he flew ahead, wondering whether he’d survive his return home. He’d said his kin had little love for him, which wasn’t reassuring.

  Amarah had lost countless friends and allies over the years. That’s how life worked. But she’d found Moroda’s loss hard to bear. She hadn’t died, not truly—she was frozen in the crystal of the Sevastos whose power she had used to defeat the Arillian army—but she was gone.

  It was as good as death.

  That crystal pillar sat outside the walls of Taban Yul, watched over by Princess Isa and the Imperial Guard stationed there. She shivered again at the thought of it.

  Kohl could well be the key to bringing Moroda back, so she turned away from Taban Yul, refusing the reward money from Isa for a chance to resurrect Moroda. In the aftermath, as the Imperial Guard counted the dead, and the survivors licked their wounds, Amarah saw first-hand the change wrought in Linaria. Certainly, her place in it had changed. She had a purpose now, a reason for surviving that bloodba
th and dragon-flame.

  And, perhaps, a chance to redeem herself in the process.

  ‘Amarah, look below,’ Kohl called. A sudden gust of cold air caught her square in the face, and she wiped her streaming eyes, pushing hair out of her face as she looked down. They were almost at the two mountains, seemingly the only landmarks in the frozen land.

  At their base stood the silent watchers who monitored their presence; the great ice sentinels of Arillian creation. They remained motionless in their thousands.

  In their hundreds of thousands.

  She gasped, her mouth falling open.

  Fallen snow piled up about their legs, half-burying them, making them seem more a part of the land than something which walked upon its surface. They were great grey-blue monstrosities, headless, four-legged, four-armed hulking chunks of living ice. In the failing light, their silhouettes merged together with the shadow of the mountains, so Amarah had no idea of their true numbers. They were intimidating and awe-inspiring in the same breath. Snow covered their shoulders, making their bulk seem all the greater, and she shuddered at the thought of that army moving toward her.

  ‘I can see why no-one ever breached your borders,’ she said, her humour feeble. Idly, she wondered why Aciel had not brought these with him on his conquest. Surely a handful would have overrun any defence the rest of Linaria mustered against them?

  ‘It isn’t too late to turn back,’ Kohl said, as he swooped overhead to land beside her. ‘You can always say my clan rejected you. None would question that.’

  Amarah replied with a snort, adjusting her sails as the wind changed. She refused to show any fear and pressed on, passing through the valley of the mountains, their shadows stretched in the low sun. Another chill washed over her as she crossed the physical border into Arillian land, the golems still and silent far below.

  ‘Long as there’s something hot to drink when we get there, I’m fine,’ she said. ‘And no storms! Don’t want anything to happen to this ship. I’ve been through too much with Khanna to lose her to a stray bolt of lightning from one of you lot.’