by Rosie Scott
The second floor had holding cells and an open center so the guards from the ground level could keep an eye on the prisoners. A walkway overhang circled the floor before cell doors and ended at a stairwell in the far corner of the building. While we headed there, we went down the stairs instead of up, and everything grew darker.
Most the cells in the prison were occupied, but mere weeks ago they'd been overstuffed. A few thousand Chairel prisoners had agreed to join me, but a few hundred had not. The dwarven soldier survivors of Hallmar's takeover were imprisoned. When combined with the criminals already here, the dungeon of Hallmar had been quite the busy place. Now, as we followed the guard down a long hallway three floors underground, the chattering of the prisoners was barely a murmur.
The stone was black in these lower levels, making it seem even darker and more claustrophobic than it had any right to be. We passed cells with steel bars and cells with solid stone walls meant for solitary confinement. Dwarves and humans alike watched Azazel and me pass with distant or hostile gazes.
“How has Silas been doing?” I asked the guard halfway down the hall.
“Silas is a model prisoner,” the Vhiri replied. “We had him with a group of others a while back, but another prisoner picked a fight. He's been in solitary ever since. Uriel Anemone came by one day and insisted Silas stay there separately from the others. Silas offered to make supplies or tools if we had the resources, but we can't trust prisoners with such things for obvious reasons.”
I nodded, though I felt saddened. I had so many memories of Silas making weapon belts, coin purses and satchels with excess leather. It hadn't only been a skill of his, but a hobby. I could only imagine how bored and lonely he'd been while imprisoned.
The Vhiri guard stopped beside a solitary room near the end of the hall, unlocking the door and popping his head in. “Silas, you have visitors.” He turned back to me. “I will lock this door behind you, but there's always a guard in this hallway. Just knock at the door, and we'll let you out. I will shackle the prisoner's wrists so you can feel safe.”
“That will be unnecessary,” I replied.
“I really must insist,” the guard said. “It's dungeon protocol.”
“It is fine, Kai.” Silas's voice filtered through the crack of the door. I sighed and nodded to the guard, and he disappeared into the room for a moment. Then, he reappeared and held the door open for us. The Vhiri reiterated that we should knock at the door to leave, and then he left himself.
Silas's cell was tiny and square, with a thin bed on one side and a stone bench on the other. My ex-lover sat on the bed, his wrists shackled in his lap as he leaned back against the near wall. Silas eyed Azazel curiously as he sat beside me on the stone bench. Just above Silas's head and to his right was a small shelf that jutted out from the wall. On it were a few books lying flat with their titles facing outward. From bottom to top, they read: The Ecosystems of Northern and Southern Hammerton, Siege Tactics Volume II: 2001-4000 G.E., and Gods, Myths, and Legends: Separating Historical Fact from Myth.
When my eyes moved from the books to Silas, I found him watching me. I motioned to Azazel and said, “Silas, this is Azazel Beriah. Azazel is my strategist, top general, and best friend. Azazel, this is Silas Galan, my former lover and bodyguard.”
Azazel nodded politely toward Silas. “It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard about you for years. Formed a picture of you in my mind from the things Kai told me.”
Silas seemed to find that interesting. “How do I compare?”
“You are similar,” Azazel said, “though I imagined your hair being lighter. Perhaps because I'm used to seeing the common hair colors of the Vhiri. Where I come from, there are no Celds.”
Silas's green eyes rolled over Azazel's dark armor and found the black bow that was visible over his head. “How long have you been with Kai? Are you one of the slaves she freed?”
“I am,” Azazel replied. “Kai and I met on the 23rd of New Moon, 420, and I have been a Renegade since late-Red Moon of the same year. Nearly a decade.”
Half of Silas's face lifted in a smile. “You're very detail-oriented for an Alderi. I can see why Kai chose you for such a position. I have to admit I'm curious about the history between you two and Nyx since Kai called you her best friend.”
“The tragedies of war can sometimes cause loyalties to waver,” I said vaguely, unwilling to go into detail with him. “Nyx spent three years alone in Eteri. Azazel has been by my side since the day he joined us.”
“Ah.” A long exhale escaped Silas's lips before he said, “Don't worry, Kai. I'm holding my tongue.”
When I felt Azazel's eyes on me in confusion, I explained, “Silas and Nyx have always had their issues.”
“Surely, you didn't just come here to chat,” Silas mused, leaning forward over his lap on both elbows. “What do you need from me?”
“How are you holding up?” I asked him.
“You don't have to pretend to care,” Silas replied. After a short silence, he looked away and added, “Fine, I suppose. I've been trying to keep busy with the books they bring me.”
“Do you get to choose them?” I asked, eyeing his small collection again.
“From a selection, but yes,” Silas affirmed. He noticed my gaze and asked, “Have you read any of those?”
“Only Siege Tactics Volume II,” I replied. “It's part of a series of four books. I read them all multiple times in my teens.”
“I don't see how,” Silas mused. “I'm finding it too boring to get through once.”
I chuckled. “If strategy doesn't interest you, I can't imagine finding anything in it to like.” I pointed at the lowest book in the stack. “Honestly, I don't see why a book about the ecosystems of Hammerton has to be that long. I can't imagine myself getting through that.”
Silas smiled and shrugged. “The ecosystems change drastically from north to south. According to the author, anyway. But I agree; the book is about seven hundred pages, and he could probably have fit it all into two hundred.” When I laughed softly at his criticism, he continued, “The book on top is most interesting to me. It claims to know the truth about the gods, but I'm not so sure. It mentions your mother, but it claims she loves men and then loses them in tragedy after tragedy, thus giving her reasons to continue using her powers. That's not how I remember her or Whispermere.”
“Nanya is dead,” I said bluntly, to which Silas stared at me in shock.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Kacela killed her in some act of vengeance against me after Nyx bested her sister Nirit in battle in the wildlands. She hunted me down to tell me this in the Griswald Forest not far from here.”
Silas looked perplexed as he tried to retain all of this. “What happened to Kacela?”
“I killed her,” Azazel replied.
Silas glared at the two of us as if we were crazy. It reminded me of just how ignorant the populace was of the gods a mere decade ago. “You used to worship both Kacela and Nirit,” I said to Silas in acknowledgment.
“...yes,” he admitted. “Kacela, Nirit, and Derwin were the gods I'd pray to during my hunts.”
“Derwin...” Azazel trailed off, looking over to me. “The god of wildlife, correct?”
“Yes,” I replied. “According to Malachi's logbook, he was killed long ago.”
Silas's eyes switched between us. “How?”
“Derwin got a little too frisky with my grandmother, the goddess Nemesis,” I replied. “My grandfather, the god Ahebban, blamed Derwin for it and tracked him down and killed him. From all accounts, it wasn't pretty. Ahebban left his body in severed pieces just north of the Cel Forest because he loved irony and wanted to watch the god get eaten by the wildlife he had such a fondness for.”
Silas blinked at me a moment. “Gods. I've missed a lot.”
“You have,” I agreed. “Chairel is using gods in its armies, and yet you seem surprised to hear us talking about coming across them.”
“It was h
ard enough finding Nanya,” Silas replied. “I didn't figure that many gods would care to come to you.”
“Many have,” I informed him. “Most are hostile. We worked with Ciro to destroy Glacia, and I tried and failed to kill Hades. The rest we've met are dead.”
“Not Cicero,” Azazel reminded me.
I sighed with irritation. “No. Not Cicero.”
Silas observed me. “You sound particularly affected by the god of chaos.”
“He's the reason Terran came to fight me here in Hammerton,” I replied. “Cicero's powers allow him to take and manipulate memories before giving them to others. Terran believes I have it out for his children.”
“Why would he find that surprising?” Silas inquired. “Terran knows you wish to take Chairel. If there are still heirs in Sera, they might contest your right to the throne.”
“Terran would be daft to think I'd come to Sera just to surrender,” I mused. “But that doesn't keep him from feeling enraged thinking his sister wants to kill his children. Emotion rules his head.”
“What do you know about his children?” Silas asked me.
“Why?” I questioned. “What do you know?”
“I know he has four children,” Silas replied. “Aella, Ignatius, Gaia, and Evian.”
“Air, fire, earth, and water,” Azazel informed me based on the names.
“So he's had two more since we spoke to Aleyah,” I murmured. “Gods, who knows how many he'll have by the time we reach Sera?”
“He will have no more,” Silas told me. “Terran's wife is dead. She died during Evian's birth in early 425.”
“Hell.” The curse was little more than a burst of air from my lips. “Perhaps that's why it was so easy for Raphael to get Terran to retreat from battle. The children are with caretakers. Terran doesn't want to leave them fatherless.”
“They are already motherless,” Silas commented. “Zoe was a dual caster. Giving birth to one child was a risk. That they had four before she died was a miracle. Rumors spread through Chairel about the whole ordeal. It's foolish for mages to have kids at all, so some speculated Zoe was held against her will to have children. It's all a ridiculous conspiracy theory, of course, but you know how people talk.”
“Terran was in love with her,” I replied. “That's one of the last things he said when I saw him after the Battle of the Dead. He was preparing to get married to her then.” I hesitated. “I can't help but think Terran rushed things, though. His own mother died in childbirth with her second child. He should have tried to avoid it.”
“Perhaps he was desperate for heirs considering the war,” Azazel suggested.
“If that's the case, then it's probably killing him with guilt,” I murmured. I met Silas's gaze again. “What do you know of the gods Chairel has hired?”
“I know little about them,” Silas replied. “All I know is that after you destroyed Narangar's harbor, the regents of Chairel sent out recruitment requests for those with golden eyes offering immense sums of gold and prestige. I assume they had several takers because the next thing I heard was people gossiping about the gods being alive. I guess Chairel didn't want to admit to the existence of the gods until they knew for sure they could use it as a method to lure more recruits to their armies.”
“It's amazing how the gods will break their own rules to stand against me,” I commented. “Hammerton used Tyrus and Heartha in their army. The soldiers knew who they were. Just years ago, the gods wouldn't have wanted their identities known.”
“Your legend has overshadowed any of theirs,” Azazel reminded me. “It seems the gods would rather have the acclaim than the secrecy. What better road is there to recognition than killing you?”
“Joining me.”
Azazel raised one eyebrow. “Well, that would be nice, but no one other than Ciro and Cicero have offered such things, and loyalty is rare among the gods. Cicero has already worked against you, and we know Nanya and Kacela had some semblance of friendship for centuries before Kacela killed her.”
“Do you honestly believe other gods will join you in Chairel?” Silas asked me.
“If they're smart, they'll either avoid fighting me or turn to my side,” I replied. “Back in the Golden Era, gods were pitting themselves against each other and joining forces. Killing me would bring a god new fame, but I have seen the death of many gods over the past decade. Joining me would bring fame, and it would be more likely that they'd stay alive to enjoy it.”
Silas chuckled under his breath and leaned back against the cell wall.
“What?” I asked him.
“When we separated in Sera, you had the world against you,” Silas said. “Now, all of Arrayis is your blank canvas. If you can change so much in just over a decade, there are no limits to what you can do.”
“There were never limits to what I can do,” I replied. “It's just a matter of displaying this to gain support, and that takes time.”
Silas looked away and said, “Tell me about your plans in Celendar, Kai.”
“We will leave Hallmar for Celendar on the new year,” I told him. “We estimate it will take us a moon to get there. I'll need you to get our armies safe passage to the city itself. I'd like to talk with them diplomatically.”
“You said you want to offer Celendar independence,” Silas said.
“Yes. And I do for several reasons. I believe you missed my explanation to Saffron Willis about this.” I held both hands in my lap to use my fingers to count off of. “One, Celendar doesn't want war, and I don't want their resentment. Two, Celendar is far from the center of Chairel and close to the intersecting borders of Fremont, Nahara, and the beastlands. It would be the most inconvenient settlement for me to defend in times of war. If Celendar were independent, not only would they be in charge of defending themselves, but it would be less likely they'd have anything to defend against. They have bothered no one without Chairel's provocation.”
“Nahara and Fremont are your allies,” Silas replied. “The beastlands have no civilization. You have nothing to fear from those intersecting borders.”
“Now,” I pointed out. “Time changes things, Silas. Civilizations rise and crumble. New tensions develop. Alliances will break. I'd love to believe all of my alliances will last until the end of time, but that's just not practical. History tells us otherwise. As for the beastlands, they don't currently have civilization, but I have reason to believe that land is ripe for the birth of a new country.”
“Truly?” Silas questioned.
“Many dwarves escaped south during our takeover here,” I told him. “For a long while, they won't have the strength to pick a fight with Fremont. But the dwarves are a hardy people. As they grow in strength and numbers, they will expand. The Metal Conflict long ago awarded the Border Mounts to Hammerton, so they now belong to Fremont. The beastlands just south of the mountains belong to Nahara, but it doesn't want them. That land is ripe for the taking, and the dwarves are intelligent enough to invent machinations with which to fight those beasts for space. I would be shocked to find those beastlands untouched in another century or two. The dwarves will seize it. And when they do, they will grow in strength and numbers, and it's probable they will pick fights with Nahara, Fremont, and Chairel. The closest settlement to that border is Celendar. If I am trading with Celendar, and I plan to, they are likely to give me fair warning of any dwarven threat while remaining safe from it themselves given the Celds and dwarves have always had a good working relationship.”
Silas exhaled in a whistle. “This is all over my head.”
“All you have to know is that I've put a lot of thought into this,” I replied. “I don't wish to take Celendar by force. I don't feel Celendar is necessary to own as a part of Chairel. Celendar isn't happy under Chairel's rule, and they'd be even more unhappy under my own. I'm nipping the problem in the bud, Silas.” When he nodded in response, I asked, “What do you think?”
“What's it matter what I think?” Silas questioned. “You have it all fig
ured out.”
“Yes, but you are Celdic. You know the workings of Celendar better than anyone else, and as I've said before, I'm planning on using you as a mediator to avoid a fight there. I need your opinion on how well this will work.”
Silas hesitated for a moment, thinking over my words. “Celendar has not been independent for a long while, but it has always wanted to be. There are some Celds who don't care either way, but most would find that idea attractive. But Celendar respects Chairel's massive military and fears it. They might believe that it will overwhelm you and refuse to give you passage on the idea you will fail alone. And, of course, there's the matter of necromancy. They will both fear it and stand against it.”
“Saffron told me at the end of the battle that my power is already beyond them,” I said. “Celendar stands no chance against me, Silas. They should work with me if only to avoid casualties and save their forest.”
Silas sighed lightly. “Celendar does not stand a chance against you, particularly alone. That might not stop them from trying.”
“How do you feel about my plans for Celendar?” I asked him. “Personally?”
His green eyes gave me an even gaze. “I like them. I always figured you would simply take it by force. And I know you would have if it was a benefit to you, but you are offering them what they want. I've worried throughout the years that you were growing too powerful and that it would affect your actions, but it seems you are as clever now as you were years ago. You want Chairel. Celendar is just a blockade. You've found a solution that will give everyone what they want if they can just compromise.”
“And you're willing to help me achieve this?” I asked.
