by Rin Chupeco
“Not anymore,” I argued. “First Minister Stefan said the nanghait had been resurrected earlier than expected. I think someone’s discovered a way to raise the daeva before they’re supposed to.”
“Then it must be a recent discovery,” Khalad said. “Aenah and Usij never raised their daeva earlier than their cycles. Druj must be the culprit.”
“Does a rune like that exist?” Kalen demanded.
Agnarr paused. “Yes, it does.”
“What happens to the daeva after you incorporate their bezoars into shadowglass?”
“They fall under the thrall of whoever holds the shadowglass. Their owner’s death before its completion will simply condemn them to their usual demise, to await resurrection once again. Their mortality becomes permanent only when magic truly disappears.”
I considered that. “So they’ll be docile if their owner commands them to?”
“What exactly are you getting at, Tea?” Kalen asked suspiciously.
“I don’t know yet. But surely, surely there’s a way we can. Lord Agnarr, I saw a vision inside the mountain.”
Agnarr traded glances with his daughters. “Rarely can an asha pass one of the trials,” he murmured. “Much less two. You are only one of four in history to have ever done so.”
“Almost isn’t the same as being successful,” I said brusquely. “I saw Kance’s soldiers fighting blighted Drychta. Have I seen the future? Was Stranger’s Peak responsible for my sight as well?”
“For better or for worse, our mountain rewards the worthy, my lady. Duty offers brief glimpses of what may come, and Honor offers strength.”
“And that is all the assistance I can expect?”
Agnarr was quiet for several seconds, his head bowed. “Yes. Your ways differ from ours. What you believe is an immediate threat, we see as history in a constant state of repetition. The Faceless Eshrok came close to killing the Odalian king for his urvan one hundred and twenty years ago, only to be slain by Veshyareda of the Light. The Faceless Kinma killed Brenymede the Lovely and was three daeva away from taking all seven before he was felled by the young Anahiko, a newly pledged asha of House Imperial. It is always a matter of life and death, and every time we keep our silence, the world does not end. Shadowglass is our paramount duty, not the rise and fall of kingdoms. If you wish to help, then weed out the Faceless who dare usurp the daeva and destroy him and all other armies that follow.”
“That doesn’t sound like a permanent solution,” Khalad said.
“Nothing is permanent, Heartforger.”
I turned away, disappointed. “We’ll make for Mithra’s Wall, then.” I was angry at having come so far, at having gone through hell inside Stranger’s Peak, only to find myself with nothing to show for my efforts.
“You are a wiser woman than when you entered our mountain, Tea,” Lord Agnarr said. “Heed my words carefully. Magic that we cannot comprehend touched you there, left traces of itself in you. You have passed the trial of Honor, and your strength has grown. You have passed the trial of Duty, and your eyes have been opened to glimpses of what may come to pass. Only the trial of Love eludes you. Perhaps in the near future, it is a trial you will find worth repeating.”
“Nothing within that mountain merited the price it asks for, milord.”
“Our value changes depending on how we perceive our worth, Lady Tea. You will always be welcomed here, no matter how far you go.”
“Thank you, Lord Agnarr. We shall leave in the morning.”
“It feels like this was all a waste of time,” Likh complained.
“Not necessarily. We didn’t lose anything making the journey. We have time to spare to join the Odalians and Yadoshans.”
Khalad shot her a careful, deliberate glance. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “I think we need to talk.”
Likh glanced at us, blushed, and turned to him. “Tea, Kalen. If you will excuse us?”
“What are those two up to?” I asked, watching them head off.
“A lot happened while you were asleep. Khalad hasn’t voiced an opinion yet, but after the shock wore off, I don’t think he’s against the idea that Likh likes him.”
The snow had gotten worse, and our meals were served to us in the small houses allotted for our visit—hot mutton stew and fresh loaves of bread. Kalen was quiet for most of the meal, chewing on bread and staring out the window. The Fire runes in the room kept us from the cold, but outside, we could hear the storm growing in strength. Above us, the wooden roof creaked.
“What’s on your mind? You seem preoccupied,” I said.
Kalen smiled briefly. “Just a little tired. I haven’t had much sleep.”
“Because you were watching over me while I did,” I remembered. “Don’t stay up on my behalf. Our hosts were kind enough to prepare beds for us. We have a long flight tomorrow—”
“After you answer me one question. What made you refuse the last trial?”
I stopped, looking into his serious, brown eyes. “I’m not sure why this is important,” I hedged.
“It is to me. You told us everything about the trials of Duty and Honor, but you were recalcitrant when it came to the last. What is it that you’re not telling me?”
I trembled, wavering between confessing and lying, though the latter was no longer an option where he was involved. “It was you. You were dead in a pool of blood. Fox was there, telling me that you were a necessary sacrifice for me to be worthy. And I couldn’t—you were dead, and I couldn’t…”
I saw no surprise in his heartsglass, only a quiet sadness.
“You knew?” I whispered.
“I knew it was a possibility.” He gathered my hands in his. “The world is a much bigger place than the space I occupy, and with even greater consequences.”
“There will be no world if you aren’t here with me, Kalen.” I was shocked by the vehemence of my words, my anger that he would even consider it.
“I asked you to run away with me, to make our own small mark in the world.” His voice trembled, proof he was more shaken than he would have me believe.
“If I agree to run away with you, and we learn that Kance is in trouble a month later, would you stay away?”
He hesitated.
“And yet, I know you love me.”
“Let me modify my original proposal, then. Run away with me. And if a daeva returns, or if Fox or Kance or Mykaela or anyone else finds themselves in trouble, then we discuss the means to aid them without attracting the elders’ attention.”
“That’s not very fair of you,” I whispered.
“I’m not trying to be. The only thing stopping you from saying yes is your guilt.”
“I don’t deserve a happy ending.”
“You’re wrong.” He kissed my temple. “We deserve this, Tea. Come away with me. Wherever we wind up, I’ll love you till the end of my days. Please.” His voice broke. “I don’t want you to die, Tea. Don’t leave me alone.”
It was selfish.
I was selfish.
But I had already given up far too much.
“Yes. Yes, I’ll run away with you.”
The hail pounding against the roof was the only sound in the room. Kalen’s heartsglass flickered from the purest silver to the deepest, darkest red.
We came together violently, a tangle of limbs, his hard frame against mine as we stumbled blindly into bed. His hands were eager, his fingers experienced from older memories of us. The robes I wore were promptly discarded, his own following after. We clung like starved folk finding safety in each other and drinking our fill as the blizzard outside increased in intensity, matching our desperation.
In the middle of it all, I began to weep. Perhaps the thought of more death unsettled me, the idea finding traction in my skin. My choices shaped the topography of some unseen map; every decision dictated a fa
r-reaching repercussion, rippling into outcomes I did not intend. Did the summoning of an azi set off a king’s madness or the slaying of a beloved mentor? If I had never insulted a young runeberry picker from Murkwick village, might I have not murdered my sister? Had I never raised Fox from the dead, would shadowglass be someone else’s problem, or no problem at all?
If I had done none of them, would I have fallen in love with Kalen?
And that’s what it all boiled down to, didn’t it? Kalen.
“Tea?” Kalen lifted his face, wet from my tears. He brushed slick, dark strands of hair off my face. He lifted himself to lie beside and gathered me close, our fervency no longer important.
“Tea.” On his lips, my name was an anguished prayer. “Don’t cry.” He kissed my eyelids, the salt on my jaw. “Don’t cry.”
Have you ever loved anyone so fiercely you were afraid it might shatter you? It was a blessing and a burden I carried.
The Odalians are some of the fiercest fighters in the world; they have to be. With the seafaring Arhen-Kosho to their west, the magic-wielding Kions to their east, and the unpredictable Yadoshans up north, their exceptional fighting prowess kept their kingdom from being whittled down to its barest parts, and in this, their defenses were second to none. I’d heard stories of fortresses built overnight on sand dunes and rocky beaches, of soldiers trained to form impenetrable barriers of shields. The first kings of Odalia famously traded the profits of their runeberry patch to hire purple-hearted craftsmen, who wove expensive spells into their shields that could deflect all but the strongest asha. It was the best investment for those early years when the continent had been fragmented into wars and territories long before the diplomacy of kingdoms.
I’d never met King Kance, and the dark asha’s infatuation was understandable. The young man was dressed not in the satin and ermine preferred by his father, King Telemaine, but in chain mail shaped to his form, decorated with the marks of previous battles and none of the shine that comes from the novelty of wear. His handsome face was molded after his notable ancestors. He had a bit of King Kareth along the jawline and Queen Bregane from his cheekbones to his brow, where King Lorek’s features then found dominance. He looked nothing like his father save for his keen and intelligent green eyes. Perhaps the lack of similarity was good.
King Kalen had gathered the Isterans to his cause—General Androvey, King Rendorvik’s military commander and right-hand man, was present, and ten regiments stood with him. Commander Selvynt, Queen Lynoria’s most trusted adviser, represented Arhen-Kosho, and I had no doubt that his ships were stealing along the southern coast, awaiting the order to strike. But King Kance was the only monarch present in this unexpected alliance.
The king’s expression relaxed as Lord Fox approached. “I was wondering when you would join us, Fox. I see you’ve brought more Isterans with you. How are things in Kion?”
“We will persevere, and we will rebuild, Your Majesty.”
“Drychta at Mithra’s Wall was troubling enough,” Commander Selvynt boomed. “Drychta in the Hollows is all but an act of war. And Lady Tea of the Embers, somehow caught up in all this. How fares the mad king?”
“If I am to believe the reports,” General Androvey rumbled, “he graces the mountains with his company.”
“It was a mistake, taking him alive last time.” King Kance spoke softly, but his volume took away none of his harshness. I did not recognize the hardened man from the gentle king the Dark asha recalled in her tale. “And I do not intend to make that same error again.”
“The Drychta may retaliate, Your Majesty.”
“They will not.” I surprised myself by interrupting. “Many live in fear of him as much as you do—even more so. The next in line to the throne is a distant cousin, Jakova of House Gansla. He is a moderate, and wise for his age. I do not know if he is keen on accepting the crown’s burden, but at the very least, he will listen to reason.”
“And who might you be?” The Odalian king’s stare was hard and suspicious.
“Tea’s chronicler,” Lady Zoya explained. “He can tell you many things about our wayward asha, if you wish.”
“He is Drychta.”
“He is harmless, Your Majesty.”
I reached into my coat, eager to show him the letters that proved my value.
“Stop!” He made a fierce gesture, and I was surrounded by swords and spears. The tip of one blade grazed my chin. “I have heard of you. The songs you sing are popular in my own courts, a favorite to mimic among my own bards. But you are Drychta, and that does not change.”
“I can vouch for him, Your Majesty,” Lord Fox said.
“And how certain are you of his loyalties?”
“You’ve asked me about Tea many times these last few months, and I had no answers to give. The letters he holds will alleviate some of those concerns, though I doubt you’ll find all the answers there.”
The Odalian king paused. He eyed the papers in my hand.
“Show me,” he responded.
18
We made haste the next day, packing quickly and making our good-byes so we could make for Mithra’s Wall before Kance’s army could engage the Drychta. I hurried to Likh’s tent when the latter proved slow to appear. “Lord Agnarr is waiting to see us go,” I said abruptly, pushing back the door. “I’m worried about Prince—King Kance, and the sooner we leave, the quicker we can get to—”
Likh and Khalad sprang apart. I stared, focused on keeping my jaw shut, while they both babbled together:
“We were already leaving—”
“Khalad was—it’s cold even with all the Fire runes present—”
“We weren’t—Likh wasn’t feeling well and I was trying to—”
“—we didn’t bring enough warm clothing, and Khalad was kind enough to—”
“—not sick or anything, but I wanted to check the wards in case—”
“I’m going to give you two five minutes to compose yourselves,” I said gently, “and to get your stories straight, but that’s all the time we can spare. We leave within half an hour if we want to find Kance before his army clashes with Aadil’s. We may be in the thick of battle as soon as the azi lands, so prepare yourselves.” Slowly, I closed the door, smiling to myself. It was a start.
“I am sorry that you could not find the answers you seek here,” Agnarr told me as I returned to where he and the other Gorvekai waited with Kalen to see us off.
“So am I, milord.” Likh and Khalad arrived moments later, the couple blushing and taking great pains not to look at me. Kalen raised an eyebrow.
“Your cousin finally got the hint,” I murmured to him.
“Good. I was wondering when he’d work up the guts to make a move.”
“I’m not sure he was the first to do so.”
The azi was quick to answer my call. I saw brief images of forests below and bright sky overhead before the two blurred together as it sped obediently toward me. Seas glittered blue before peaks of white crystals abruptly appeared. I saw an ice fjord, a breathtaking land sculpture of ice and glass, before the azi veered off, making for our small encampment.
Through its eyes, I caught sight of us, small as ants, standing in a cluster at the center of the frozen tundra. The beast landed, crooning and dipping all three heads in a monstrous curtsy.
“Good boys.” I stroked each head in turn as they butted one another for my attention. Behind us, the soldiers’ spears and axes remained raised, unconvinced by the daeva’s show of obedience.
“If I took all the daeva as pets, rather than as beasts to be put into the ground every few years, would I be worthy, regardless of what your mountain tells you?”
Agnarr bowed. “It is hard enough to war with one’s own conscience, but far more difficult to deal with one’s own and another’s at all times. Add six more and insanity is not far off.”
&nbs
p; “But if I was successful?”
“I cannot speak for the mountain, but perhaps you can ask it again one day.”
“Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Agnarr. I hope we shall see each other again under more forgiving circumstances.”
“Were you serious about that?” Kalen asked me, as Khalad awkwardly offered a helping hand to the still red-faced Likh, which the asha accepted. My love didn’t look happy—it was the complete opposite of what I’d promised the night before. “Do you intend to control all the other daeva?”
“No,” I admitted. “It took everything I had juggling both the azi and the savul, and I’m not keen on taking on more. But if I keep my hold on the azi, and perhaps Mykkie or another Dark asha she trains take in one or two more, then maybe we could prevent the Faceless from taking their bezoars.”
“That will make you all targets.”
“Dark asha have always been targets. If we divided the tasks, perhaps it would lessen the burden.”
“There usually aren’t more than three or four Dark asha at a time.”
“Four could be enough, as long as the Faceless don’t take control of all seven daeva. It’s the best compromise I can think of.” I sighed. “I’m better now at Veiling, at hiding where people cannot find me. It’s not the most foolproof plan, but at least I can spare Mykkie the exertion of a few more daeva, and both of us would draw in less of the Dark that way.”
“And increase both your life spans.” No longer shy about showing his affection before strangers, Kalen pecked me on the lips. “I can’t think of any better options.”
The Gorvekai drove the butts of their spears against the hard ground, and the others brandished their axes. It was a strange ceremony, a special farewell. The azi acknowledged their good-byes with a thin, approving cry. It spread its wings to full span, a majestic sight against the backdrop of ice and snow, and leaped into the sky. Soon the men and women saluting us were no more than specks as I aligned my thoughts with the daeva’s, charting a new route for us, crossing continents into Yadoshan territory, heading for Mithra’s Wall.
