The Strength to Serve (Echoes of Imara Book 3)

by Claire Frank

  He was happy to find that the baker on the edge of the courtyard still made excellent cinnamon buns, and he strolled to the Life Tree’s surround to sit and eat. He adjusted the baldric he had made to carry Katalis’s sword, so he could sit comfortably. He’d decided when they left home he couldn’t leave it behind, so he’d brought both Heorun blades with him to Halthas. Although he was reasonably comfortable leaving the other locked in their room, when it came to Katalis, he wanted to keep it with him. The way it hummed with energy made him nervous; he couldn’t take the chance of someone else touching it, even by mistake. It was still thoroughly wrapped and tied with leather so the metal didn’t show through, and he’d been wearing it on his back whenever he left their inn.

  As he licked the last of the cinnamon from his fingers, Alastair walked across the cobblestones. Daro stood and they exchanged friendly greetings.

  “I’m glad you received my message,” Alastair said. “Where’s Cecily?”

  “At the Lyceum,” Daro said. “She went to see the Paragon.”

  Alastair nodded. “Of course. How long will you two be staying in the city?”

  “Only as long as necessary,” Daro said. In truth, he was already anxious to be on their way home. “We delivered our news to the king. It’s in his hands now.”

  “And mine, to a certain extent,” Alastair said. “The situation is growing serious. I hope you realize that.”

  “How could I not?” Daro asked. “I was among those the group of Attalonians attacked.”

  “Yet you still plan to leave?”

  Daro sat back down on the surround. “This is a recurring conversation between us, Alastair. I’ve done my duty. I served my kingdom. There are far better men than I who can see to the safety of Halthas.”

  “Not necessarily,” Alastair said.

  “I’m no hero,” Daro said. “I never was, and I’m less so now. This isn’t my fight.”

  Alastair lowered himself next to Daro. “You really believe that, don’t you? That you can leave this to the rest of us and your home won’t be touched. Halthas hasn’t faced a threat like this in centuries and the sad truth is, we aren’t ready. If Attalon comes, and I think we both know they will, we’re going to be in for the fight of our lives.”

  “Haven’t I given enough?” Daro said.

  “Is there such a thing as enough?” Alastair asked. “We all want peace. Tell that to the Emperor who calls himself a god and conquered every kingdom within a thousand miles of his throne. Tell him we don’t want this fight. Do you think that will make him send his army home? We aren’t choosing to go to war. The war is coming to us.”

  Daro took a deep breath, but the truth of the situation overshadowed even the serenity of the Life Tree. “You asked me to come here for a reason, and I know it wasn’t to offer your goodbyes.”

  “Attalon won’t attack from the river. It’s the easiest way in by sea, but they’ll know what the defenses are like.”

  “So they’ll come from the south,” Daro said, uncertain why Alastair was explaining what they both already knew.

  “Yes, but the south isn’t the only avenue they will try,” Alastair said. “Thaya may be volatile, but if Attalon can negotiate safe passage, they could come through the northern pass as well, attack from both sides.”

  “Thaya won’t let them through,” Daro said.

  “They might,” Alastair said. “We know there have been Attalonian emissaries sent to treat with many of the Thayan warlords. They understand enough to realize they need treaties with the right leaders, in order to take advantage of the web of Thayan alliances. It’s entirely possible they could march straight through Thaya. Once they reach Madrona, they’ll have access to our river system in the interior of the kingdom. We absolutely cannot allow that to happen.”

  The earnestness in Alastair’s voice made Daro pause. “Then why aren’t we making our own alliances with the Thayans?”

  “We’ve been working on that, of course,” Alastair said. “I recently traveled north and have been making every attempt to convince them to align with us, not Attalon.”

  “Then things are well in hand,” Daro said.

  “Not quite.”

  Daro turned to look at his friend, raising an eyebrow.

  Alastair sighed, as if dreading what he was about to say. “I have been to Thaya twice. First, to smooth relations after the incident in Torra. Second, to begin negotiations for a formal alliance between a group of Thayan warlords and Halthas. The first meeting went surprisingly well. The second ended abruptly with some very specific demands from the Thayans.”

  “And what would those demands be?” Daro asked.

  “They want to see you.”

  “Excuse me?” Daro asked, looking at Alastair with surprise. “What do I have to do with any of this?”

  “They insist on seeing the man who bested two Heoru warriors, including the Wielder, Katalis,” Alastair said.

  “I didn’t beat Katalis,” Daro said. “The Imarans killed him.”

  “You claimed his sword,” Alastair said.

  Daro stood, and felt the weight of Katalis on his back. “I did take his sword, but I only did so because it felt right at the time. Do they want it back?”

  “They want to know if the man who took two Heorun blades is worthy of owning them,” Alastair said. “Is that the sword?”

  Daro’s hand drifted to the hilt over his shoulder. “It is. I carry it to keep it safe.”

  “As you should, I suppose,” Alastair said.

  Daro’s heart sank. He had no desire to go to Thaya to be put on display for their leaders. It would be like walking into the den of a sleeping animal. Tread correctly, and you’d likely walk away. But one wrong move and you would wake the sleeping beast.

  “You’re asking me to go to Thaya?”

  “I know this is a lot to ask of you,” Alastair said. “I’ll spare you the lecture on duty to your king, but I will tell you this: if Attalon invades from the north, we won’t stand a chance.”

  Daro walked across the courtyard and Alastair fell in step with him. He didn’t have a destination in mind, he just needed to move. It felt wrong to sit beneath the branches of the Life Tree and discuss war.

  “What do they want from me?” he asked.

  “Their request was that I bring the warrior who defeated their Heoru. I say request, but in truth, it was a demand. After what you did against Katalis, they see you as some sort of champion of Halthas. They said they have to determine if you are worthy to carry the Heorun blade.”

  Daro shook his head. “That isn’t right. A warrior can claim a Heorun if they defeat its owner. I shouldn’t have to prove I deserved it.”

  “You aren’t Thayan,” Alastair said. “They aren’t happy that a Halthian carries not one, but two Heorun swords. I suppose I could try bringing the weapons back to Thaya, but somehow I think that would only anger them.”

  Daro thought about Katalis’s sword. It was more than a Heorun blade now, and it worried him to think of what the weapon could do in someone else’s hands. “No, I can’t give them up. That wouldn’t garner their respect.”

  “No, it wouldn’t. This isn’t a matter for diplomats in their eyes. Thayan alliances aren’t decided by treaties penned by men like me. They’re decided by combat.”

  “Meaning they expect me to come fight,” Daro said.

  “Let’s be honest: it isn’t likely they have anyone who can defeat you. Not anymore.” Alastair paused and the silence hung between them. “This could be the largest war Halthas has seen in centuries. What we lived through in the war for the crown is nothing compared to what we’ll face if Attalon tries to invade. If we lose our northern border or, worse, Thaya joins forces with the Emperor? We can’t fight Thaya and Attalon, and we can’t stave off armies from both directions. We are on the brink, right now, standing at the edge.”

  Daro remained silent for a long moment as they walked. As much as he resisted the thought of going, he didn’t see a way o
ut. Alastair was right; they needed to secure their northern border. If there was any chance of allying with the Thayans, they needed to take it.

  “Cecily isn’t going to like this,” he said.

  Alastair clapped him on the back. “Telling her is a task I don’t envy.”

  Daro shook his head as a sinking feeling filled his stomach. He didn’t see how this was going to end well.

  ***

  Daro opened the door to his room in the inn, his mind troubled. He’d considered his position as he walked through the city and over the Merchant Span, which took him across the river and into southern Halthas. He wanted nothing more than to return home with Cecily. Was it so much for a man to ask, to be left in peace?

  Shaking his head, he closed the door behind him. If Halthas was at war, no one would be at peace. He knew that as well as anyone. Although he didn’t want to be involved, he knew he couldn’t blame Alastair. His friend had devoted himself to serving the kingdom after Rogan took the throne, and Daro respected that choice, regardless of whether he understood it. Alastair was doing his job as best he could, and he wouldn’t have asked Daro to go to Thaya if he didn’t believe it was necessary.

  He unbuckled his baldric and laid the large sword carefully on the ground. As he pushed it beneath the bed to rest beside his other Heorun blade, he wondered if he should simply have left it in the field outside Madrona Keep when Katalis died. Perhaps if he hadn’t taken it, he wouldn’t be in this position now. Of course, the truth was, the idea of someone else claiming the weapon worried him more.

  The door opened and Cecily walked in. Her eyes were tense, and he could almost feel the strain running through her, but she simply smiled.

  “How did it go with the Paragon?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she said as she hung her cloak on a peg by the door. “He’s worried about Attalon, of course, and he asked a lot of questions about how long I would be in the city.”

  Daro had a vague sense that there was more, but she didn’t offer further details and he let the matter drop.

  “What did Alastair want to see you about?” she asked.

  He paused and took a deep breath. Although he knew Cecily would understand the need for him to travel to Thaya, another thought had run through his mind as he made his way across the city. He wasn’t certain she should come, and he wasn’t looking forward to explaining that to her.

  “He’s been trying to secure an alliance with Thaya to protect our northern border,” he said. “Apparently he needs my help.”

  “Your help?” she asked, turning to look at him.

  Daro scratched his chin. “They have demanded to see the warrior who claimed the two Heorun swords at the battle in Madrona.”

  “Demanded? Do you mean to say you have to go to Thaya with Alastair?”

  “It appears that way. Alastair fears the Attalonians are trying to secure passage through Thaya, but the Thayans won’t treat with us unless I come with him.”

  Cecily sat down on the bed and tilted her head. “I hope you agreed to go.”

  “I don’t think I have a choice,” he said, and the words felt like a noose around his neck. He hated feeling cornered. “Why are you on his side?”

  She clasped his hand and pulled him onto the bed next to her. “I’m on our side, always.”

  “I think you should stay here,” he said, and kept talking quickly so she wouldn’t have a chance to argue. “I’ve been to Thaya, and it isn’t like Halthas. Women are kept separate from men, except in private, and they won’t take kindly to a woman speaking out of place.”

  “What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Her face was serious, but Daro could hear the jest in her voice.

  “It means you’d probably get yourself into trouble,” Daro said. Her mouth dropped open and he placed a finger over her lips. “In all that Lyceum training, did you ever learn how to navigate Thayan culture?” She shook her head as Daro lowered his hand. “It isn’t easy. You can look at them wrong and they take offense and suddenly you’ve brought shame on their entire family and you owe them your life and that of your firstborn in return.”

  “All right,” she said. “To be honest, I have the Paragon’s business to attend to. Something was stolen from the Lyceum and he’s hoping I can help find it.”

  “Go ask Callum,” Daro said.

  She smiled. “I already did. He doesn’t know who took it, but he gave me a few ideas of where to begin looking.”

  Daro ran his hand across her cheek and through her hair. “It will only be a few weeks. If we’re lucky, we can go home after I return.”

  Cecily nodded and he leaned in, finding her lips with his. He took a deep breath, relishing her scent as he wrapped his arms around her. Unfortunately, he didn’t believe in luck.

  21. BLIND

  Pathius wandered down the hallway toward the Hall of Salutar, the place where Imarans brought their sick or injured. He had spent a restless few days since the Halls of Memory, trying to sort through what had happened with Ara. The sense of connection he had felt pulled at him, leaving him wondering what it meant and longing for more. Ara seemed to be avoiding him, evading his attempts to speak with her. He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked, and sighed in frustration. He needed something to take his mind off Ara, but thus far he’d been unsuccessful at finding anything.

  The Hall of Salutar was an expansive space with a high ceiling open to the sky above. Rolls of oiled canvases hung from the walls; these could be drawn across the opening if it rained, but the Imarans claimed the fresh air was beneficial to healing. An Imaran healer greeted Pathius as he entered.

  “How is Leotan?” Pathius asked.

  “No change,” the healer said.

  The Imaran had been comatose for several days and no one could say whether he would awaken, or what state he would be in if he did. Pathius was drawn to the man, out of both concern and curiosity. What he had experienced when he drew Leotan’s essence out of Dashal had been puzzling, and Pathius was anxious to see what would become of Leotan.

  Leotan lay in an alcove that appeared to have been carved from the rock itself, a niche in the wall with a thick mattress. His eyes were slightly open, as if he were peeking out from below his lids, but his face was slack.

  “He lives due to you,” the healer said.

  “I did what I could, I suppose. I’m not even sure what I did.”

  “We wish to know this as well,” the healer said. “What has been done was not thought possible. We have little understanding of you who are altered. The things we thought we knew are uncertain with you.”

  Pathius looked up at the healer, his brows drawn down. “What do you mean by that?”

  “In times past, such a manifestation of power could not be healed. Once a man broke through this boundary, he would not come back. You brought the Halthian to himself again. This should not be possible as we understand it, but the altered defy what we know.”

  The healer nodded to him and left. Pathius was growing rather tired of being an anomaly. As much as he had wished for greater power in his youth, he wondered what life would have been like had he remained weak.

  He drew up a stool and sat next to Leotan. The company of someone who couldn’t talk back was oddly pleasant. “Ara once told me I spend too much time alone,” he said, keeping his voice quiet despite there being no one else nearby to hear. “I think that is probably better for everyone.”

  As he thought of Ara, he slumped in his seat. “If I was still the prince, my father would have chosen a bride for me years ago. I don’t know if I would have loved her, or she loved me, but it would have been simpler.”

  He had thought he’d loved Cecily, and even dared to imagine she could love him in return. Isley had manipulated him from the beginning, but he’d known it, and allowed it to happen. He could hardly feign ignorance of what she was. Now he felt the pull of an Imaran woman, someone who was likely as inaccessible to him as any other woman he’d known. “I’m certainly adept at loving the wr
ong women.”

  “I don’t know how you Halthians manage,” a voice said from behind him.

  Pathius turned to find Raed standing in the doorway. “Manage what?” he asked.

  “Everything,” Raed said. “You live with such blindness. There is so much you do not see. I think this causes you difficulties.”

  With a soft laugh, Pathius stood and walked to the doorway. “That may be.”

  “Does Leotan improve?” Raed asked.

  “I don’t think anything has changed,” Pathius said with a glance over his shoulder. “But he’s alive, so I suppose there is still hope.”

  Raed raised an eyebrow and nodded. “I sought you because there is work to be done at the river village. I thought it good if you join us to help.”

  “Of course,” Pathius said. “Honestly, I could use a distraction today.”

  Raed led him out of the city and through the forest toward the Bresne River. The river village was a series of buildings where many of the Imaran craftsmen worked. The tall structures stretched out along the bank of the river, fronted by docks and piers with boats of varying sizes. Many vessels were small and sleek, designed for swift travel up and down the waterways. Others were large trading boats, with deep hulls for transporting their goods. All were built with sweeping lines, the prows and sterns reaching out to narrow points.

  “Come,” Raed said as he led Pathius between the buildings. A few Imarans glanced up from their work, but no one seemed to take particular notice of him. When he had first arrived in Imara, he had felt out of place, eliciting stares wherever he went. It had made him wish he could stay closed up in his dwelling. As the months had gone by, however, he’d attracted less attention, most Imarans treating him no differently than they did their own people.