by R. T. Kaelin
Wren was quiet a moment before asking, “But why, exactly?”
“Because our task is not yet complete,” rumbled Broedi. “The Demonic War was the beginning, not the end.”
The tijul shifted his gaze to Broedi, but said nothing. He gnawed on his lip, remaining motionless and perfectly quiet. Nikalys liked him much better this way.
Alumon whistled, “Why have you told us this?”
Rather than answer the thorn, Nikalys turned to face Talulot and said, “On the beach, you said you sensed that the wind ‘carries a grim shadow.’”
“It does,” whistled Talulot. “A dark one.”
Turning back to Alumon and the other Mataan, Nikalys asked, “And do you sense that as well?”
With its grassy hair swishing in the wind, Alumon whistled, “It grows darker by the cycle.”
“The Gods of Chaos, Strife, Pain, and Deception march together,” said Nikalys. “They have destroyed hundreds of villages, toppled at least one great city, and murdered countless souls. They are your grim shadow, Alumon. And if we do not stop them, it will eventually reach your shores.”
Tilting its head, Alumon asked, “What do you require of us?”
“I require nothing,” answered Nikalys. “I will, however, ask for your aid. The buhanik—” he glanced at Evald “—and the Titaani Kotiv-aki.”
“There is no need to ask,” whistled Alumon. “We will do as you see fit. Our promise—”
“No!” interjected Nikalys with a firm shake of his head. “Consider that promise fulfilled. From this point forward, you choose your fate. If you aid us, it will be your choice to do so.” He shot a hard glare at Wren. “Every soul deserves free will.”
With a roll of his eyes, Wren shook his head and huffed, “You are choosing the rocky path for morality’s sake? Oh, you are Aryn’s son indeed.”
Nikalys ignored the tijul’s barb. No good could come from engaging him at the moment.
Evald rumbled, “What sort of aid do you require?”
Turning back to the Mataan and hillmen, Nikalys said, “We have no idea how many oligurts, razorfiends, mongrels, or demon-men the Cabal have in their ranks. Thousands, at least. Tens of thousands, perhaps. I pray no more than that. Yet even if we could manage to match them one-for-one with soldiers, they will no doubt have ten, fifty, a hundred times more mages than we will. And if that is the case, we will lose.”
He paused and looked around the platform, ensuring that he made eye contact with everyone.
“I ask you all to join us in our fight. I want you to come to the duchies and go to war.”
Chapter 44: Reunion
17th of the Turn of Maeana, 4999
After spending the past turn in the open air of sea and forest, the stone-block walls surrounding Broedi felt oppressive and heavy, as though he stood in a Yutian tomb. He stared into the hearth, doing his best to maintain a sense of outward calm, but the heat radiating from his gaze outshone the roaring fire’s blaze.
From one of the chairs before Lady Vivienne’s desk, Nikalys muttered, “I can’t believe she would do this.” The young man’s hands were balled into fists. “Kenders is impulsive, yes. But to just leave? Now?!”
Broedi shook his head and let out a steadying sigh.
“If it is not one thing, it is another.”
Duchess Aleece reached over from her chair, patted Nikalys’ arm gently, and said. “I am sure she is fine. She has proven that she can handle herself, yes?”
“Only by Ketus’ providence is that the case,” rumbled Broedi. “Whenever skill and wisdom are absent with her, luck has filled the holes. That cannot continue forever.”
Shooting him a sharp look, the duchess said, “Nevertheless, she will be fine. Do you not agree, Broedi?”
Nikalys turned his gaze to Broedi’s face, waiting for a response. After a moment, Broedi gave one, rumbling, “Yes. I do.” Hope colored his words more than honest belief.
From her chair behind the desk, Lady Vivienne said, “It is not as if she is alone. Both Khin and Tobias are with her.”
Nikalys did not react, his gaze now locked on a torch along the office’s back wall.
Standing beside the baroness’ desk, Broedi peered down at the noblewoman.
“And this was Khin’s idea?”
Lady Vivienne stared up at him and shook her head.
“Not at all. It was her idea. But the aicenai viewed it as a teaching opportunity.”
Wren—leaning against the wall beside the hearth and sipping a goblet of wine—began choking, drawing the gaze of those in the room. Clearing his throat, he looked up and repeated, “Aicenai?” He shot a questioning stare at Broedi. “Surely she is jesting.” A few drops of red wine had dripped on Wren’s neatly trimmed tunic.
Broedi shook his head.
“Surely, she is not.”
The tijul’s eyes narrowed.
“You never mentioned anything about an aicenai.”
Glaring at Wren, Broedi rumbled, “I did my best squeezing two hundred years of history into one afternoon in the treetops. Pardon me for leaving a few things out.”
Noticing the splatters of wine, Wren frowned and set the cup of wine on the hearth’s mantle. Inspecting the droplets, he said, “You might have wanted to include that an aicenai was a part of your little group here. That novelty alone would have brought me here.”
Broedi reached up and rubbed his eyes, almost wishing Wren had decided to stay in Buhaylunsod.
Following the discussions with the Mataan, the remainder of the Sapphire’s expedition was escorted into the tree city. There were quick introductions and immediate farewells as Broedi had Nundle open a port to the beach for the party—Wren included—to go through. Captain Scrag and the ship’s crew were returning to Storm Island via the Sapphire while they took a much quicker route.
On Broedi’s request, Nundle opened a second port directly to Lady Vivienne’s office. Broedi stepped through first and stumbled upon a meeting between a pair of very surprised noblewomen. The others quickly followed him with the twenty Shadow Mane soldiers leaving immediately, all the while bowing and gawking at the duchess. Her presence seemed to rattle even the normally composed Sergeant Trell.
After the room had mostly emptied, Broedi introduced Wren and relayed what had happened in the Primal Provinces. Lady Vivienne and the duchess in return revealed that half of the allotted Southern Arms along with the first units of the Long Coast’s Shore Guard were amassing in Demetus. Reports from Duke Rholeb stated that Sudashian scouts had been spotted a week west of the capital.
When the conversation turned to the dysfunctional politics of the First Council, Nikalys asked if he could leave to see his siblings. After a quick glance at Lady Vivienne, Duchess Aleece shared that Kenders had left Storm Island only days after the Sapphire had set sail. She had been gone for four weeks.
Broedi was still rubbing his eyes when Nikalys asked, “Well, can I at least go see Jak?”
The long, silent pause that followed Nikalys’ question caused Broedi to drop his hand. The two noblewomen were staring at one another again, frowns on their faces.
On Nikalys’ left, Nundle—his ever-present, wide-brimmed hat in his lap—asked, “Oh, Gods. Did he go somewhere, too?”
Lady Vivienne shook her head once. “No. He’s here.” Looking to Nikalys, she added, “Although, you should know that about a week ago—”
The double doors to the room opened suddenly, interrupting the baroness and ushering in a rush of cold air from the hall. Jak wobbled through the entryway, helped along by Chandrid. Broedi stared at the dressings wrapped around the boy’s head and sighed. He could not let any of them out of his sight.
Nikalys leapt up from his chair and exclaimed, “Gods! What happened to you?” He rushed over and wrapped an arm around his brother to help support him. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” answered Jak, a weak smile on his face. “And please don’t shout.”
Chandrid looked around the ro
om and said, “I am sorry for the intrusion. He insisted in coming the moment he heard you had returned.” Turning an eye to Jak as Nikalys helped him to the open chair, she added pointedly, “He is a stubborn patient.”
Jak collapsed in the chair with a great sigh, peered back, and waved a dismissive hand in the air.
“I am fine, Chandrid. You worry too much.”
Nikalys hovered beside him, staring at the thick bandages.
Eyeing the injured young man, Broedi asked, “And what sort of trouble did you get yourself into?”
Jak swiveled around in his chair, looked at Broedi a moment before shifting his gaze to Lady Vivienne.
“You didn’t tell them?”
Lady Vivienne shook her head.
“I was about to when you burst in.”
“Oh well, then. I suppose—wait.” Jak peered around the room while asking, “Is everyone back and safe? Sergeant Trell came—” He cut off as he faced Duchess Aleece in the chair beside him. “Pardon me, my Lady. I did not see you there. I would stand and give you a proper bow but there’s an excellent chance I might fall over.”
The duchess smiled, inclined her head, and said, “Please stay seated, then. No need to risk an accident. It is good to see you up and about, though.”
“Thank you, my Lady,” replied Jak, resuming his perusal of the room. “It is good to be up—” He halted again upon spotting Wren standing by the hearth. The tijul was running his fingers through his long, brown hair—an interminably annoying habit of his. “Hey! You found him. I was wondering—”
“Jak!” interjected Nikalys. “Will you tell me what happened to you?”
After taking one last look at Wren, Jak turned around, stared up at his brother, and said, “Part of the castle fell on me.”
Leaning forward, Nundle peered around Nikalys and asked, “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”
Lady Vivienne said, “We had an incident in the mages’ hall. There were two large explosions, a terrible fire, and, ultimately, a section of the northeastern wall collapsed.” She stared at Broedi and said with an edge in her voice. “Had you chosen to arrive in the courtyard as is protocol, you would have certainly seen it.”
Ignoring her tone, Broedi asked, “Was anyone hurt?”
Jak lifted a hand.
“Me.”
“Other than you.”
Jak nodded once, winced, and stopped immediately.
“Gamin had a nice gash, too. Ask Chandrid, though. She’s been taking care of us all.”
As Broedi turned to the hillwoman, she was already answering his unasked question.
“Twelve injured. Jak and Gamin were the most serious by far.”
“Then everyone survived?”
The skin around Chandrid’s eyes crinkled as her gaze shifted to the oak desk. Broedi stared back to the baroness and found Lady Vivienne shaking her head.
“Unfortunately, no. A young mage perished. Marick.”
A cold shiver ran up Broedi’s spine. Marick had been assigned to work with Helene.
Turning her gaze to Jak, the baroness added, “And had this brave fool not rushed in and saved her, the young girl from the farm would have died as well.”
“Helene?” asked Nikalys in alarm. “Is she hurt?”
Jak stared up at his brother and said soothingly, “Hey, she’s fine, Nik. Don’t worry.” His gaze shifted to Broedi and a shadow passed over his face. “In fact, there wasn’t a scratch on her.”
Broedi frowned slightly. There was more to this story.
Looking back to his brother an instant later, Jak gave a lopsided grin and said, “So, feel free to save all your sympathy for me. I’m the one who got knocked in the head.”
“What about Sabine?” asked Nikalys. “Was she with her? She wasn’t hurt, was she?” There was more than simple concern in his tone.
“No,” replied Jak. “She’s fine. She was…uh…well, she was with me when the explosions happened.”
A moment skipped past before Nikalys asked in an overly neutral tone, “She was with you?”
Jak paused ever so briefly before saying, “We stumbled across one another in the hall. We were talking when…boom.”
Nikalys eyed Jak evenly as an uncomfortable silence drew out between the pair. One of the burning logs in the hearth cracked, piercing the quiet. Wren was staring between the siblings, an amused smirk on his face. Broedi gave a disappointed sigh and shook his head. There was no time for whatever this was. He stared back down to Lady Vivienne.
“What caused the accident?”
“We still do not know. Gamin recalls a sudden rush of Fire Strands before the first explosion. Nobody else seems to remember much at all.” She turned her gaze to Jak. “Including him. His memories remain somewhat ‘hazy.’”
Jak’s face went still. Pointing to his bandage, he said, “I have a good excuse if you recall.”
A tiny frown teased the corners of the baroness’ mouth.
“Yes, you do.”
Their tones alone told Broedi that Jak was keeping something from Lady Vivienne and the noblewoman knew it. Trusting Jak had a good reason why, Broedi noted the need to corner the young man later. Turning to Chandrid, he asked, “How serious was his injury?”
The hillwoman looked to Jak and hesitated before saying, “Well, as he is on his way to recovery, I suppose it is safe to share this now: he nearly died.”
As Jak spun around in his chair, his face turning the color of days-old ash, Nikalys repeated Chandrid’s words, his concern pure.
“He nearly died?”
Chandrid nodded, her gaze still on Jak.
“Truthfully, I thought he had. When I reached him, he was not breathing. Nor could I feel a heartbeat. I had nearly moved on to help another when Sabine said she saw your foot move.”
Jak looked as if he might get ill. Nikalys did not look much better.
Chandrid folded her hands together, saying, “I was surprised, to say the least. Nevertheless, I stopped his bleeding and have been watching him closely ever since.” She turned her gaze to Broedi. “I, however, am not as skilled as you with the Strands of Life. Perhaps you might speed his recovery?”
“Of course,” rumbled Broedi. Touching his right palm to his chest, he nodded his head and said, “Kitan teita palvelua, lakari.”
Chandrid repeated the gesture and replied, “Se on minun velosuuteni ja ilo.” Turning to the noblewomen, she bowed and said, “My Ladies, if you will excuse me, I have others I must attend to.”
“Of course,” said Duchess Aleece. “Thank you for all you have done.”
Chandrid nodded, turned, and strode from the warm offices, closing the doors behind her and cutting off the cold draft.
The door was still rattling in its frame when Nundle said, “I’m not sure whose time was more eventful while we were gone—yours or ours. Sure, we had storms at sea and giant tree-monsters attacking us, but you lost one of the Progeny and then nearly let their brother get killed.”
His words carried no malice or criticism, but that did not stop Lady Vivienne from glaring at the tomble. Nundle slouched in his chair, trying to make himself even smaller than he already was.
“Perhaps I should stop talking now.”
Duchess Aleece smothered a small grin at the exchange. A quick glance around the room revealed a variety of other reactions. Jak still appeared consumed with the revelation about his brush with visiting Maeana’s hall, Wren seemed mostly concerned with the wine stain on his tunic, and Nikalys stood taut and anxious, his empty gaze having returned to the torch on the back wall. Add twenty-five years to the boy’s face, and it could be Aryn standing there. Broedi frowned. He knew what was coming next.
A moment later, Nikalys looked straight at Broedi and spoke with quiet determination.
“I want to go after Kenders.”
Broedi drew in a slow, deep breath, let it back out again, and said with resignation, “Of course you do.”
“Four weeks, Broedi! She’s been gone
four weeks! Jak almost died here at the enclave. Imagine what could happen to her! Now, I’ve thought through this. Nundle could take me to the Southlands and—”
“Stop, Nik,” interrupted Jak. Looking up to his brother, he said, “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s no need to. She’s not hurt,” said Jak, reaching into his shirt and pulling free the silver teardrop necklace. “As far as I can tell, she’s perfectly fine.”
Wren glanced at Broedi and raised a single, inquisitive eyebrow. Apparently, the tijul recognized Eliza’s pendant. Broedi’s return nod was quick and slight, confirming the silent question.
Jak continued, saying, “Her emotions are a bit jumbled, but physically, she’s fine.” Lifting the necklace over his head, he handed it to Nikalys. “See for yourself.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Nikalys grasped the necklace and closed his eyes. A heartbeat later, Broedi spotted faint, silver Strands of Soul dancing away from the necklace and straight through the wall opposite the hearth. He noticed Wren staring at them as well, a deep frown on his face as he sipped his wine again.
Nikalys turned his head side-to-side, searching for the ringing only he could hear, and ended up facing the same direction the Strands of Soul led. A moment later, the Strands faded and Nikalys opened his eyes.
“Jak’s right. She’s fine.”
“What a fabulous artifice,” muttered the duchess, staring with open awe at the necklace. “How does it work?”
As Nikalys held it up, the pendant swayed back and forth.
“Simple. You hold it and picture me or Kenders in your mind.”
“That is all that is required?” asked the duchess with a raised eyebrow. “No magic? Simply imagine you or your sister?”
Nodding, Jak said, “That is all, my Lady. Anyone can do it.”
Duchess Aleece shook her head slowly, murmuring, “Truly wondrous.” Her expression darkened an instant later. “It should be destroyed immediately.”
Nikalys and Jak turned as one to stare at her.
