Palom (World of Linaria Book 2)

by L. L. McNeil

  ‘Palom…’

  ‘I am so, so sorry for leaving you. Leaving mali. I should never have left, never have abandoned the family.’ His words came out in a rush, blurted out as he thought them. ‘I have wanted to come home so badly for so long. I was afraid you’d hate me. You’d all hate me. The Archigos, everyone. I was afraid…I couldn’t stop him dying, pali. I wasn’t strong enough to save him.’

  Tears fell now, real tears, not what Lathri drew from him when they touched. He didn’t care that they stood on his father’s porch in view of the rest of the village. ‘I have wished so many times that I’d died instead of him. He had little Solvi to look after. He was the strong one, the clever one, the brave one.’

  ‘Hush, hush,’ Manilo said, shaking his head. ‘We’ve all done things we regret. You cannot live with such guilt in your heart for your whole life!’

  ‘Pali, please forgive me. I should have been there for you. For mali. For Solvi…’

  ‘My son…’

  Palom shook, his words halted. His father’s dark mane of hair had receded, grey streaking through it, but he still held a fierceness in his eyes that Palom admired. ‘I didn’t know…any other way.’

  ‘You were very young. Fifteen? Sixteen?’ Manilo said, stepping back, arms on Palom’s shoulders, as he looked him up and down. ‘I thought you hated me.’

  Palom blinked, shocked. ‘Why? You hadn’t done anything?’

  ‘I thought I must have done something terrible for you to leave. Without saying why. You left little Solvi. She was a baby, Palom. Your brother’s little girl!’

  Anxiety built in his stomach. He’d hurt Manilo more than he’d realised.

  ‘I…I’m sorry…’ Palom repeated, dropping his gaze.

  ‘It was wrong of you to abandon your family, your duty. I can’t forgive you for doing that. But I understand why you did what you did. You saw no other way,’ Manilo said. ‘You should have come to the Archigos. Come to me. We would have helped you through it. We needed you.’

  Palom shuddered, his voice gone.

  All this time, he’d been so wrong about everything.

  His desire to make up for failing his brother and Solvi had lent itself to a desire to protect those around him.

  Lathri.

  Anahrik.

  Eryn.

  Moroda.

  ‘Come inside,’ Manilo said, stepping back and opening his arms. ‘There is so much I wish to know, of your life outside Sol—outside Val Sharis. Tell me everything.’

  *

  Several deer roasted on a spit, the wind blowing embers into the air. Palom sat on a thin rug in the courtyard—which had been cleared for their meal—Solvi on his left side, Manilo on his right. Others from Sol sat with them, including the three Archigo, and Jek, of all people.

  The racoon had thanked him profusely again for his help on the road, and Palom had been pleased when the Archigo had taken him to one side for more questions and catching up.

  From what Palom understood, most of them wanted to enjoy the wealth they expected came from the hero of Val Sharis in their village. They’d asked about his relationship with the princess, and whether or not some of the crown’s gold could be directed to Sol—particularly now times were lean.

  Palom had shrugged, unable to give any guarantees, which hadn’t been to their satisfaction. Manilo had saved him from further embarrassment—those matters could be discussed another day. Now was the time for celebrating his son’s return, and the deer had been hunted, brought back, and skinned ready for a feast.

  Mixed emotions flooded him. Relief that he’d not immediately been cast out, happiness at seeing his father again, anger for not realising his mistakes sooner.

  He contemplated his past and the emotions he’d associated with his perceived failures, weighing up which were real, and which were mistakes. Palom ended up spending most of the evening sat in silence, listening to the talk around him, only picking at his food.

  With so many years to catch up on, Palom wanted to savour the moment by simply observing, listening, and enjoying the warmth and familiarity of home.

  ‘How is Taban Yul?’ Archigo Saltos asked, tearing at a strip of venison between his hands. ‘With the Varkain Sapora in charge?’

  Palom thought. Clearly, he’d spent the better part of his life paranoid.

  Claiming Sapora and his Varkain were up to something terrible seemed far-fetched now, even though Lathri had been the one to bring his attention to them.

  He settled to explain what he knew from Lathri’s allies. ‘I have friends in Taban Yul who believe Sapora will bring ruin and devastation to the Ittallan. There are rumours of him doing something terrible.’

  He stopped to drink from his mug.

  Whether it was a case of snakes being snakes, or Sapora really was working up to unleash some ancient and terrible power over Val Sharis, he suddenly wasn’t sure.

  Manilo shook his head, taking another bite out of his venison leg. ‘This is above us. Above Sol. Let the would-be kings and queens fight out their power struggles, if that’s what they want. We’ve always been alone in Sol, always fended for ourselves. We don’t get caught up in their plots. You did well to leave them in Taban Yul.’

  Palom nodded, though he didn’t agree.

  ‘What is important to us— important to you—is the same as always. Family. Blood. Loyalty. Nothing else is our concern, it’s how we’ve survived for so long, through civil wars and dragon attacks and the Arillian army.’ Manilo said, and agreement rippled through the gathered Ittallan.

  Palom sighed.

  Sapora’s plans would be bigger than Sol; surely the village should get involved at some point?

  Perhaps when all of Val Sharis was threatened?

  Or all of Linaria?

  ‘Solvi ended up studying in Taban Yul, you know?’ Manilo said, his voice rich with pride. ‘Tell him. Tell him who you were with.’

  Solvi blushed when Palom looked at her. ‘Princess Isa…She’s a few years older than me, but I saw her there. We studied in the same building. She had her guards of course, but she slipped away from them a lot of the time. Didn’t realise we’d both be cats…’

  ‘Wow.’ Palom supposed that explained why she spoke the common tongue so well, where her confidence came from. Studying in the capital of Val Sharis was no mean feat. He beamed at her. ‘That’s amazing, Solvi.’

  Her blush deepened. ‘Thank you, kali.’

  He raised his mug to her.

  All this time, he’d missed everything. Missed his niece growing up, missed his father become an Archigo, missed his village—his home—grow and change.

  Births.

  Marriages.

  Deaths.

  How he wished he could have Lathri sat with him, wished she could see what he could be when he wasn’t being so stupid.

  The flames crackled merrily, and he stared into them, looking at the shapes they made as they danced and flickered. For once, his Valta Forinja was still.

  Peaceful.

  If only he’d had the courage to come back sooner.

  He’d had so many chances, and he’d squandered them all until now.

  ‘Archigo! A captain of the Guard!’ The sudden cry snapped Palom’s attention back as one of the village scouts raced over to them, kicking up snow.

  The scout pulled a man alongside him—blood trickled down his face.

  ‘Chryo!’ Palom gasped.

  The young captain’s legs were soaked in red. Whatever wound he had looked to be deep.

  ‘Get the healers at once!’ Manilo’s voice boomed as he strode over to the scout and Chryo. ‘Take it easy. What happened? Who did this?’

  Chryo’s eyes rolled in panic, and Palom could see the whites from where he sat. The captain trembled like a leaf in his father’s hands and shook his head over and over. ‘The Waterside Inn…attacked…a…a crocodile…He slaughtered everyone.’ Chryo’s legs gave out under him, and he dropped—Manilo catching him as he fell. ‘I barely escap
ed...He could be on his way…here…now! Get ready to fight…’

  Palom was on his feet in an instant.

  He didn’t know of any crocodiles—none for a thousand leagues, at any rate. Except for….

  Dragons above, it couldn’t be Mateli…could it?

  He’d been imprisoned years ago.

  He couldn’t be out.

  Couldn’t be.

  The Valta Forinja shimmered, sending blue light crackling all around him, and thoughts of peace vanished.

  If it had been Mateli…then the deaths of everyone in the Waterside Inn was on his head.

  ‘Archigo. Lock Sol down. Everyone is to stay inside.’

  He and Manilo nodded to one another, then Palom picked up his sword and followed Chyro’s trail of blood through the trees.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Amarah’s attempt to retrieve Kohl was met with little success. Jato’s influence remained strong among the community of Oren villagers, and when the former General had requested not to be disturbed, even Amarah—the popular foreigner—hadn’t been permitted entry. She had moved Khanna across the island to be closer to Jato’s home, and therefore, Kohl.

  Amarah waited for almost three days, before she reached the end of her patience. She’d learned a newfound respect for their culture and processes, and she’d never get bored of watching the Arillians fly around when they weren’t throwing bolts of lightning at you. She even knew several by name.

  The Arillians who lived close to Jato seemed as friendly and curious about her as the others, but when she’d pressed for details on how they or the Golems would be able to resurrect Moroda—trapped in the crystal of a Sevastos—they suddenly became distant and answered with vagueness.

  Amarah hated being played for a fool.

  ‘What about Berel?’ She asked a male Arillian on the third day of waiting. ‘Magic is magic, ain’t it? Can’t you talk to the Samolen about your Golem magic? Work together to get Moroda free?’

  ‘Magic is not magic! Ours is ancient, without equal, and powered by the Everwinter. Samolen magic is dragon’s breath. Flame and destruction,’ he’d said, offended.

  Unable to wield—or understand—either branch of magic, Amarah rolled her eyes. They claimed to be her friends, and yet were unwilling to lift a finger to help.

  ‘You Arillians are meant to be the sworn enemy of the mainland, aren’t ya?’ She said. ‘I’m here being friends. So what if we’re different? Can’t you do the same with the Samolen magic? I know one of the scholars. Topeko. You can trust him, work with him.’ She lifted the corners of her lips in the hope it looked like a genuine smile. ‘I don’t care whose magic I use, or how it’s done. I just want to free Moroda!’

  The sniff she received in response put that idea to bed, and she folded her arms as he flew away, citing business he needed to attend to.

  Why was it so damned hard to get a straight answer from any of the Arillians? What if they had a time limit and Moroda needed to be freed soon, or be lost forever?

  Not to mention Sapora and whatever cargo he had heading to Taban Yul.

  Bloody sorcery.

  She glared at Jato’s home as if it would somehow force the brat out, and she’d get a chance to talk to Kohl. Sitting around hidden from Sapora’s wrath was all well and good, but Amarah had never been one to shy from challenge. Kohl might have been cowardly, but she wasn’t.

  In three days, she’d not seen Kohl—or Jato—leave her home once. What in Linaria could they be talking about for so long?

  Amarah twirled her scythe, smacking the bottom of it against the icy rocks. If something didn’t happen soon, the Arillians would have a front-row seat of the barbarous nature she and the other mainland Linarians supposedly had.

  She’d put up with enough.

  Things would get moving now, one way or another.

  Amarah strode forward, past the enormous fire pit which sat in front of Jato’s home and approached the huge tower of ice. It widened at its base, a large entrance carved into the rock almost ten feet off the ground.

  ‘Kohl! I’m done waiting!’ Amarah yelled as she reached the base of the tower. ‘I wanna talk now!’ She slammed her scythe down again, the noise echoing across the tower.

  No response.

  A few Arillians flying near glanced in her direction, but otherwise ignored her.

  ‘Fine, if that’s how it’s gonna be,’ she muttered, grasping her scythe with both hands, the power within the blade building until her arms vibrated. She whirled it around, slashing at the air in front of the tower and sent a beam of blue energy crashing into the icy rock.

  Several chunks of ice fell from the tower, falling to the ground and disintegrating into dust.

  That would get their attention.

  Amarah continued to twirl her scythe and waited.

  Several Arillians swarmed near, many whispering, some yelling, at Amarah’s sudden show of aggression, but she ignored them, her eyes only on the entrance to the former General’s home.

  She didn’t have to wait long.

  Kohl emerged, looking flustered, holding his hat in one hand and waving at Amarah with his other. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Getting my audience with you, Kohl,’ Amarah snapped. In her peripheral, more Arillians flew in. She ignored them all. ‘Three days, I’ve been waiting. I ain’t on holiday. I’m here to get Moroda out. If you can’t do that, then I need to go.’

  ‘Please, Amarah,’ he said, landing by her in a flurry of freezing air. ‘You can’t start attacking people!’

  ‘I’ll do as I damn well please! I only knocked on the door.’

  Kohl shook his head. ‘This isn’t like the rest of Linaria. You’ve been permitted here by the Golems! Don’t squander that!’

  ‘I’m getting what I came here for!’ She snorted. ‘Either give me your magic solution to get Moroda out, or if you can’t do that, come with me to Berel. Maybe Topeko knows more than you damned birds. This is a waste of my time otherwise.’

  ‘Amarah!’ His eyes widened at the slur.

  ‘Or if you’d rather spent time with your brat, you can stay here, and I’ll go by myself. Your choice’

  The gathered Arillians’ whispers turned to appalled muttering.

  ‘Well? What’s your answer?’ she snapped.

  ‘You can leave whenever you want. No-one’s making you stay here.’ The cool voice quietened the Arillians as Jato flew out of her tower, her dark brown wings stark against the white snow.

  ‘In fact, I think you’d be doing us a favour if you left and never came back.’

  Amarah lifted her scythe and pointed it at Jato when she landed. ‘I wasn’t talking to you.’

  Shock rippled through the crowd, and Jato glared at Amarah with cold, grey eyes.

  ‘Kohl. Are you able to help me or not?’ Amarah turned back to her companion, who looked the most flustered she’d ever seen him.

  ‘I’m sure we can help Moroda,’ he began.

  ‘Now?’ Amarah raised an eyebrow. ‘If not now, then I’m going. You coming?’

  ‘Amarah, I need a little more time. The Golems’ power isn’t as precise as the Samolen magic you know, and—’

  ‘I know where I’ve seen you before,’ Jato interrupted.

  Amarah and Kohl turned to look at her.

  The former General continued, ‘You were on my warship. With the snake and the girl…?’

  Amarah rolled her tongue but didn’t bother to reply.

  ‘I thought I recognised you…Your…scythe…You nearly killed Aciel!’ Jato’s voice pitched as the realisation hit her. She lifted her hands and immediately threw a bolt of lightning at Amarah.

  Amarah brought her scythe up across her body, its power deflecting Jato’s attack. ‘You’ve got a shit memory if you only just realised who I am.’

  Jato wasn’t listening. She threw another bolt of lightning, then another, then another, the electricity crackling around her and melting the snow.

  ‘Calm do
wn!’ Amarah yelled over the clap of thunder, pushed back as she deflected Jato’s attacks.

  ‘I can’t believe you brought her here! To my doorstep!’ Jato was screaming now, her electricity careening towards Kohl. ‘After what she did!’

  Amarah ran to her right, away from where Khanna sat, from the crowd of Arillians, and from Jato’s tower. ‘What I did?’ She yelled. ‘What about what you and Aciel did? How many people you killed, enslaved?’

  Jato took to the air and flew after her.

  ‘You loved Aciel, I get it—’

  ‘Don’t speak of him!’ Jato screamed, sending another wave of electricity at her. The force almost blasted Amarah from her feet, but she gained her balance and stood firm, glaring up at her.

  ‘We can’t all get what we want, you spoiled brat!’ Amarah goaded, holding her arms open as if to invite another attack. ‘Looks like you’re learnin’ that the hard way!’

  ‘Shut up!’

  Amarah had already braced for the next blast, and her scythe kept her safe. She grinned, enjoying herself.

  ‘You nearly killed him!’ Jato shouted, gulping down lungfuls of air as she attempted to collect herself. ‘If it hadn’t been for you, he wouldn’t have been sealed in that battle!’ She flapped her wings to slow her descent, her hands pointing towards Amarah.

  ‘And if it hadn’t been for you, thousands would still be alive, and I wouldn’t be here to put you back in your place!’ Amarah flicked her scythe up, a wave of energy charging towards Jato.

  Jato evaded the attack and landed, her sudden rage over.

  ‘Nothin’ to say to me?’ Amarah asked, her weapon held tight, ready to use again.

  Jato flicked her hair out of her eyes, all pretence of condescension gone. ‘For what you did to my Aciel…I’m going to destroy you and I’ll make sure there’s nothing left.’

  Amarah grinned, brandishing her scythe. ‘Come on, then! I’m ready!’

  Jato ignored her taunt, spreading her wings and holding her hands out wide, with fingers splayed. The island rumbled, and the wind picked up as Jato’s storm built. Electricity sparked through the wall of wind, licking at the melting snow and heating everything to vapour.

  Amarah waved her scythe again, but Jato’s raging winds simply absorbed the energy. Around her, Arillians flew away, escaping Jato’s storm as more and more of the island shuddered, the pressure shattering boulders nearby.