Lightbringer

by Claire Legrand

  Eliana could not find her voice. Her eyes locked on to her father’s face and wouldn’t let go. She could not stop thinking of the vision Corien had sent her—Remy, Simon, Ioseph, and herself, happy and laughing in a sunlit house. And there was every memory from her childhood: Ioseph going off to war; dancing with Rozen in their kitchen; holding little Eliana in his lap after the annual Sun Queen pageant, both of them glittering with gold powder, watching the sun rise while the statue of the Lightbringer towered above them.

  The world spun slowly; something terrible was about to happen, and Eliana was helpless to stop it. She made her hands into fists. If her castings awakened again, she was not certain she would be able to dam the flood of her power this time.

  Ioseph shook his head. “Don’t listen to him, sweet girl. It’s all right.” His voice shook. Tears rolled down his cheeks and into the beard Admiral Ravikant had kept so neatly trimmed. “It’s all right.”

  “Isn’t it happy news?” Corien roared. He shook Eliana hard. “Tell me!”

  A sob burst out of her. “Yes. Yes!”

  “I’m tired of waiting for you to come to your senses, Eliana,” he said hotly against her cheek, “of offering you pleasures, promising you peace. No longer. If I cannot persuade you to reason, I will be forced to break you.”

  Corien jerked his head at Ioseph’s tower. “Save the man who found you in the streets and fed and protected you until he left home to fight a war I started, only to have his body stolen and used like a puppet.”

  He turned her roughly, made her stare at Remy’s tower next. “Or save your innocent little brother, who even now doesn’t blame you for all the misery he’s endured on your behalf. Try to save them both, and I’ll tear their skulls to pieces from the inside out before they even hit the ground.”

  Then, before Eliana could even draw breath to beg, the guards holding Ioseph and Remy let them go, and their bodies plunged into the night.

  16

  Tal

  “Merovec found the Archon’s corpse at the doors of the House of Light. He claims the Archon took his own life, but he won’t allow us to examine the body. In recent days, the Archon had been pleading with Merovec to end the interrogation of elementals. He was the only one of the Magisterial Council Merovec would allow inside Baingarde; now we are without an ally in the castle. The city is in an uproar. Those loyal to Merovec are looting temples, dismantling them piece by piece. The faithful are desperate, with nowhere to go. Merovec has heard rumors of Red Crown and is personally entering homes unannounced with squadrons of soldiers to search basements and question families. It’s as if he thinks we’re hiding Rielle in someone’s attic. We in Red Crown say this to each other when we need courage: For crown and country, we protect the true light.”

  —Encoded letter from Miren Ballastier, Grand Magister of the Forge, to the exiled king Audric Courverie, dated December 3, Year 999 of the Second Age

  Tal reached a bend in the mountain path and stopped to catch his breath.

  Below him stretched a sea of red rock—the canyons and mountains of southeastern Vindica. It was a country that had once belonged to angels and now could boast only a hollow, stark sort of beauty, as if the empirium itself had forsaken it. Crumbling cities had been abandoned to the appetite of time, hosting only a population of scavengers, wanderers, and the occasional ambitious acolyte on a solitary pilgrimage.

  From his spot on the path, Tal surveyed the horizon, the mountains around him, the darkening periwinkle sky. Even though he wore a long, thick scarf tied around his head and neck, his lips stung, and his throat was parched. The brutal mountain winds, choked with grit, were ceaseless.

  Then Ludivine’s panicked voice burst into his mind—a sensation with which Tal remained utterly uncomfortable and only allowed because he had long ago realized he could not find Rielle on his own. He wasn’t powerful enough. His mind was dull, unimaginative. It always had been. Only a decent elemental talent and a ruthless dedication to studying had secured him his position as Grand Magister.

  This truth had always eaten at him. Now that he had been isolated for weeks, its appetite had become monstrous, leaving Tal’s mood black and fragile.

  I cannot see her. Ludivine’s thoughts clawed at him like the frantic grip of someone drowning. Something’s happened. I cannot see her any longer.

  Tal hated mind-speak. Hated it. The act felt unholy, made him want to bathe in scalding water.

  Is she hurt? He stood rigidly in a patch of scrubby grass, staring at the southern horizon, where a thin black line marked the Namurian Sea, and Patria beyond. Is she dead?

  He heard Ludivine’s exhausted laughter. Do you think Rielle could die and the world would somehow go on undisturbed?

  Then where is she?

  I don’t know. I don’t know! She’s so far from me. So far, and so frightened, Tal. A sob floated to him through whatever perverse connection Ludivine had forged with his mind. He is keeping her hidden from me. You must find her.

  Tal let out a single bitter laugh. Desperation had kept him moving for weeks; he had hardly stopped to rest, pushing through storms of both snow and dust. He had followed a patchy trail cobbled together from Ludivine’s frantic whispers and whatever information he could gather when he dared to stop at inns, travelers’ hostels, encampments of nomadic tribes and roving treasure-seekers.

  For weeks, he had hardly slept, both his dreams and his waking thoughts full of Rielle. The image of her from that horrible night outside the village of Tavistère tormented him. They had locked eyes; Corien had taunted him. Too late, Tal.

  That desperation, the memory of her frightened face in the rain, had kept him pushing onward for long weeks, heedless of his aching muscles, the blisters in his boots, the hungry pinch of his stomach.

  But now that strength left him all at once, like the bones had been sucked out of him. He sank to the ground and sat unmoving as the wind spat its relentless red sand.

  Too late, Tal. Tal laughed, reached up under his head scarf, and scrubbed his filthy hands over his face. That’s what he said to me that night. I suppose he was right.

  Ludivine’s voice was grave. In his mind’s eye, Tal could see her sitting in a chair surrounded by greenery, her shoulders tense and her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

  Tal, you must find her, she thought to him. If I cannot see her, then you’ll have to do it alone.

  “What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” he spat. He refused to mind-speak any longer.

  I cannot leave Audric. He needs me to help him, and the world needs him on his throne.

  “I didn’t ask you to leave Audric.” Tal pushed himself to his feet. That simple act was exhausting enough to make him want to lie back down in the sand and let it bury him. But he had seen a cave a mile or so down the mountain, and he could sleep there for the night.

  “I’ll search the entire world for her,” he mumbled. “I, a single, simple firebrand, will track the most powerful pair of creatures who have ever lived. An angel and a queen of God. And when I find them, she’ll surely listen to me. Don’t you think? She always has. Not once has she ever defied me.”

  After a moment, Ludivine spoke quietly. You sound slightly hysterical, Tal. You should rest.

  If only she were actually there beside him so he could slap her. “I should rest? Do you know, I had not once thought of that. Thank you.”

  You’re no good to her exhausted.

  He threw the entire vicious force of his frustration into his thoughts. And you were no good to her even at your best.

  She recoiled, and Tal had walked half a mile more before she spoke again.

  You’re right. Her voice came faintly. I have failed her utterly. I have failed all of you.

  Her despair was honest. Even the distant echoes of it rippling through Tal’s mind made his eyes burn. He briefly considered sending her a thought of comfort
, though she did not deserve it.

  But something distracted him—a flash of light a few hundred yards down the mountain. It shone for two seconds, flickered, brightened, and then vanished.

  Tal froze, chills blanketing his overheated skin. The sunlight had dimmed, and the rocks around him had taken on an eerie crimson glow. He was suddenly very aware of how alone he was, and how vulnerable.

  He slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat, the stiff fabric caked with sand. Wrapped his fingers around his dagger. Reached for the shield on his back, felt his power pull tight between his body and his casting.

  What is it? Ludivine asked.

  Nothing good, I’m sure, Tal replied. Leave me. You’ll distract me, and you’re too far away to help.

  He felt her hesitation.

  Tell me what you find, she said at last.

  And if what I find is my death?

  Her voice was heavy with regret. I am sorry, Tal.

  Then, with a subtle shift of sensation in his mind, she was gone.

  Flattening himself against the rock, Tal edged his way down the mountain path, which narrowed into a tight chasm between two tall cliffs.

  At the chasm’s mouth, he waited, breathless, for beyond the cliffs, where the path widened once more, there was a dramatic decline, and then a small clearing of flat stone buffeted by a cluster of boulders.

  And in this clearing, a ring of light appeared—small and dim at first, and then it quickly grew and brightened, a shifting darkness at its center. The first light had flickered; this one was steady.

  A figure stepped through the ring, followed by a second. An instant later, the light vanished, thrusting the mountain back into darkness. Night was coming; only a faint red glow of sunset remained.

  Tal’s heartbeat boomed in his ears.

  Who these people were, he did not know. But at least one of them was a marque—and Rielle had been traveling with a marque.

  He searched the darkness. If she was there, he would have to act quickly. If she wasn’t there, he didn’t think he could bear it.

  “That took far too long,” said one of the people below, their voice male and gruff and vaguely familiar. “The earthquake—”

  “Tried to kill me and failed,” spat the second of the pair. A woman, Tal thought. She pushed back the hood of her cloak and ran her hands through a long fall of wild pale hair. “The whole world’s gone mad, Garver. The world itself and the people in it.”

  Tal’s knees shook with relief even as fresh despair tore at him. Neither of these people was Rielle’s marque. He pressed his forehead against the wall of stone beside him, still warm from the sun. Palms flat against the rock, he began to pray.

  Fleet-seeming fire, blaze not with fury or abandon.

  Burn steady and burn true, burn clean and burn bright.

  As his mind cleared, Tal realized he knew the name Garver, if it was indeed the same man. Garver Randell was a healer and apothecary whom both Audric and Rielle preferred to any of the royal healers at the palace, much to the healers’ dismay. Garver had a son, Rielle had told him. An eight-year-old boy named Simon.

  “Avura?” he heard Garver ask below.

  “Gone,” his companion answered. “Those quakes brought everything crashing down, even the goddamned mountains.”

  Tal listened, stunned. Avura was one of the larger settlements in the western foothills of the Maktari Mountains, which stretched north to south along the entire length of western Vindica.

  Tal had been there only four days ago, following the erratic path of Rielle’s trail. The city’s population numbered in the hundreds of thousands, and never in recorded history had an earthquake occurred in that region. Certainly not one large enough to destroy so large a city.

  The Gate will fall. It was happening just as Aryava had foretold.

  Two Queens will rise. One of blood, and one of light.

  For years, he had prayed that Rielle was the Sun Queen. He had prayed it so fiercely and so often that he had come to believe it wholeheartedly—that she was good, that she could be neither broken nor corrupted. That if he taught her conscientiously, if he prayed for her with enough conviction, he could ensure she would become the person who would save them.

  But none of it had been enough. He had failed her. He had failed everyone. He was no better than Ludivine, incapable of protecting what was most important, and now Rielle was lost. The queen of blood after all, it seemed. The Kingsbane, many called her.

  Only Tal couldn’t make himself believe that, even after everything that had happened. Not Rielle. He had taught her for years, watched her courage bloom. She was powerful, yes, but she was good. She knew what was right and had always strove to do it. He tried to envision her as a bloodthirsty queen on the arm of an angel and refused to believe it, even as his mind easily supplied the images.

  “Fleet-seeming fire,” he whispered, his hands trembling against the sun-warmed stone, “blaze not with fury or abandon. Burn steady and burn true. Burn clean and burn bright.”

  Then, light bloomed through his eyelids. The air near him shifted.

  Tal whirled and snapped open his eyes just as the light disappeared. Two strong hands grabbed hold of his arms; a cold blade poked at his throat.

  “He has a casting,” said the person holding his arms. It was the woman he had seen, her voice sharp. “A shield strapped to his back. Call upon your power, elemental,” she said quietly, “and I’ll plunge this dagger into your throat.”

  “There is no fire in these rocks,” he replied wearily. “You’re safe from me, marque.”

  A faint flush of sun remained at the western horizon, allowing Tal enough light to see the man who held the knife to his throat. He had graying brown hair and ruddy skin, a slight beard, and piercing blue eyes.

  The man narrowed his gaze, then used his free hand to rip the scarf from Tal’s head.

  “I know you,” he said, inspecting Tal’s face. “Taliesin Belounnon. Grand Magister of the capital’s Pyre.”

  “And you are Garver Randell,” Tal guessed. “Healer to the true king of Celdaria.”

  A pause, and then Garver smiled grimly. “The true king,” he agreed, and lowered his knife.

  The woman released Tal and stepped around to glare at him. Her skin was pale, as was her hair. Her eyes were even more piercing than Garver’s, and her frame was bony and sharp.

  “What in God’s name are you doing all the way out here?” she asked.

  “Praying,” he said flatly.

  “Yes, and we heard you all the way down the slope. You should watch that in the future. What if I were someone who wanted to kill you?”

  “Annick,” warned Garver.

  “Do you want to kill me?” Tal asked.

  “Not at the moment,” Annick replied. “But that could easily change. Tell me this, my lord.” Her lip curled at the words. He didn’t blame her; during the Angelic Wars, when fear of marques had reached feverish heights, the Church had been instrumental in eradicating them. Any survivors of the slaughter had gone deep into hiding.

  “We’ve been tracking a marque for some weeks,” Annick continued, “hoping to find an ally in these dark, uncertain times. Whoever they are, they’re fast and strong, and it’s been difficult to match their pace. Now we’ve lost the trail—the very same night we find you, a Grand Magister of the Celdarian church, out in the angelic wilds. Do you have an explanation for this remarkable coincidence?”

  Tal looked hard at Annick’s face, which was too carefully expressionless too trust. Then he glanced at Garver.

  “I’ve also been tracking a marque,” Tal said. “I’ve been following them since Tavistère. Then Terenash, then the Gormar Highlands and Zhirat. I was in Avura only four days ago. Is this also the path you’ve taken?”

  Annick fell into stony silence. Garver frowned, considering him.
<
br />   Urgently, Tal pressed on. “If there’s a way I can help you rediscover their trail, please tell me. I must find them.”

  “Why would we help you find a marque?” Annick asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re of the Church. Out here, you are the Church.”

  “I wasn’t even alive during the Scourge! Your quarrel lies with my ancestors.”

  “And you’ve done much in your life to make up for their crimes, have you?” Annick said, her eyes glittering. “You’ve petitioned your magister friends to rewrite the laws to allow me to show the wings on my back and live freely in the world, rather than hide in a cave in the middle of nowhere?”

  Garver pinched the bridge of his nose. “Annick…”

  “No, I haven’t,” Tal admitted.

  “Then don’t pretend innocence,” Annick snapped. “Your very blood is tainted with mine.”

  “Yes, all right, of course you’re right,” Tal said quickly, “and if I survive the impending doom of the world, I swear to you I will assemble the Magisterial Council and demand that they revisit the Authority doctrines and the registry. But first we have to survive. I must find the marque you’ve been searching for, and you’ll be able to help me track them much more effectively than I could on my own.”

  He hesitated, then decided what he wanted to say was worth the risk. “I think you’re tracking them for the same reason I am. Not to find allies, but to find Rielle.”

  The quiet that fell over them vibrated with tension. Annick’s face was unreadable.

  But Garver relented. “The night of the royal wedding, I sensed a marque near the city. A shocking thing, for I knew only two marques existed in the capital, myself being one of them. This one was new and incredibly powerful, much more so than I am. Then Queen Rielle disappeared, and the marque with her.”