“It might have been nice to tell us that earlier,” Ellarion grumbled. “It’s one thing to cross the Province by backroads, it’s another to head right into their capital city.” He looked at Lyriana, then at my father, then down at himself. “Call me skeptical, but I don’t think we’ll be exactly greeted with open arms.”
Zell cleared his throat. “I don’t know very much about the Southlands. Would someone mind filling me in?”
Good thing he asked, because then I didn’t have to. Everything I knew about Southlanders, I’d picked up from my time around them in Lightspire. I knew they had bronze skin and shaved heads, that they ate spicy food, and kept to themselves and regarded everyone else with a lot of skepticism. I knew they’d had a long history of wars with the Volaris, and that a lot of them were considered heretics by the church. That…was about it.
Luckily, Lyriana never passed on an opportunity to play professor. “In the old days, after the Titans Ascended, the Southern Empire was the greatest power on the continent. Their Kings, Dyns in their tongue, conquered all the lands south of Lightspire, and a good stretch of the Eastern shore as well. Their armies were unparalleled, their cities glorious. They were truly Noveris’s first great civilization.”
I knew what came next, because I’d sat through enough history lessons in Lightspire. “Then you guys happened.”
Lyriana nodded. “Lightspire was just a city-state at that point, a hub of commerce and scholarship with no real political influence. But that all changed when my ancestors, the ruling family entrusted with studying the Godsblade, discovered the Heartstone. When we discovered magic.” She hesitated, real guilt in her voice. “Within a century, Lightspire had conquered nearly all of the Heartlands, and built up a massive army of its own. That was something the Southern Empire could not abide.”
“War,” Zell said.
“The greatest war,” Ellarion replied. “It lasted nearly half a century, and killed a million. By the time it was settled, the Southlands were a scorched ruin. Those great cities were rubble. Those armies wiped out to a man.” He didn’t sound proud of it, not exactly, but he was still too matter-of-fact for my comfort. “What was left of their population bent the knee at last. The last living member of their royal family, some ten-year-old kid, became the High Lord. And the Southlands became the first occupied Province of the Kingdom of Noveris.”
“Sounds familiar,” I said, and fought the urge to glance back at my father. “I’m guessing they weren’t exactly thrilled?”
“There’s always been some resentment, but by and large, they’ve accepted our rule,” Lyriana said. “There have been flare-ups of conflict. A rebellion here and there, a trade dispute, a feud between our priests and theirs. But nothing significant, not even on par with the War of the West. Not until now, that is.”
“Things had been getting a little tense the past few years,” Ellarion went on. “They didn’t like all the new taxes being levied on them, they didn’t like how Lyriana’s father favored the Eastern Baronies, and they really didn’t like how we were demanding their Houses send soldiers to fight alongside us in the West. So when last year’s Ascendance Day rolled around, the High Lord of the Southlands, Rulys Van himself, came out to Lightspire to meet with the King. He brought his family along too, just to make a good impression. His wife, his younger sons, even his mother.” Ellarion’s eyes met mine, their usual red glow a smoldering angry crimson. “You see where this is going, right?”
“They were in the Godsblade,” I said, my heart sinking. “When my father blew it up.”
“Another lovely consequence of his incredibly well-thought-out plan,” Ellarion growled, and my father, thankfully, said nothing. “The only surviving member was the High Lord’s oldest son, a real firebrand named Rulys Cal. When he got word of what had happened to his father, to his family, well, he didn’t take it lightly. He refused to accept King Kent’s rule. Instead, he declared the Southlands a free Kingdom and took up the title of Dyn once again. It’s been bloody war ever since.”
“I’m guessing he won’t be thrilled if he finds my father,” I said.
“Or you,” Lyriana said. “Or me and Ellarion, for that matter. He holds us just as responsible for failing to keep his family safe. And from what I’ve heard, he’s not exactly the merciful type.”
“Which brings us right back to my question.” Ellarion tapped the map, the circle labeled Tau Lorren. “Namely if we’re really going to ride right into the single place he’s most likely to find us.”
“I do not know the intricacies of your many wars and petty conflicts,” Syan said, in a tone that weirdly stung. “I only know the journey we’ll have to make through Izteros to reach my benn. Without the proper supplies, we’ll be swallowed by the storm.”
“Just once, I’d like some unexpected good news. Is that so much to ask? Just once in my life?” Ellarion sighed. “Fine. So we get to Torrus where Kent’s rebel contacts get us into the Southlands. We ride all the way through the Province to Tau Lorren. We supply up. And then…into the wastes.”
The plan was settled, I guess. Ellarion rolled up the map, and Lyriana put out the fire. We all got up and started to head toward our sleeping rolls, and that’s when my father spoke.
“I didn’t know they’d be there.”
A silence lingered over the camp as every head turned his way. “What?” I asked at last.
“Rulys Van and his family. I didn’t know they’d be at the Masquerade,” my father said. His voice was as emotionless as ever, but there was something different, a hesitancy to his words. Was it actually guilt?
Whatever it was, it just made everyone angrier. “And?” Ellarion demanded. “So what? Is that meant to exoner-ate you?”
“I’m just explaining myself,” my father said. “I never intended war with the Southlands. I’d hoped they’d see me as a liberator. What happened was…” He hesitated again. “Unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate?” Lyriana repeated. “Unfortunate?” And then she was on the move, striding at my father with her fists clenched. Her eyes burned so bright they gave off their own light. “How dare you? How fucking dare you?”
Full honesty? Even after everything I’d seen, fought, and been chased by, Lyriana swearing was the scariest thing in the world.
“Lyri,” Ellarion said, but she cut him off with a withering glare. One way or another, this was happening.
“You killed my mother. You killed my father. You killed my little cousins and my friends and pretty much everyone I’ve ever known. Innocent people! All of them!” She jerked her hand up, and my father’s head slammed back against the tree with a hard thump. “So you don’t get to say a single word about ‘unfortunate.’”
“I understand,” my father choked out, and I could see the creases on the sides of his head, like it was being crushed by an invisible fist. “I was just…clarifying…”
“You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to clarify or explain or justify yourself. You help us out for as long as we need you, and that’s it.” Lyriana clenched tighter, straining beads of sweat out of my father’s skull. “Let me be very clear, Lord Kent. This is not your redemption. This is not your path to a pardon. You’re here to help us. And as soon as you have, as soon as I sit on my throne, you’ll face justice for everything you’ve done. Understand?”
Even through the pain, my father stared Lyriana down. “I’ve long accepted that,” he said. “Miles betrayed me. He stole my throne and destroyed everything I’ve worked for. The only thing I care about…the only thing…is making him pay.”
Zell’s gaze narrowed. “The enemy of my enemy…”
“Is still my enemy,” Lyriana finished, and jerked her hand to the side, sending my father tumbling into the dirt. Ellarion helped her up, guiding her away, and even Zell left after a moment, shaking his head.
But I stayed, waited until it was quiet, and then I slid over to my father’s side. The moon was blocked by a thin veil of cloud, so I had to squint to see hi
m. He was rubbing at the back of his head where Lyriana had slammed him into the tree, and he barely looked up as I approached. “What is it?”
“Would you have done anything different? If you’d known Rulys Van and his family had been in the Masquerade? Would it have stopped you, even for a second?”
He finally looked up at me, his green eyes meeting mine. Then he looked away.
His silence was answer enough.
I SLEPT RESTLESSLY, MY MIND racing with thoughts of the journey ahead, and I woke up early, just after sunrise. Zell was still asleep next to me, his chest moving up and down with each measured breath, so I took one long minute soaking up his warmth, then I eased his arm off, gave him a little kiss on the forehead, and stood up. Holy mother of hell, I ached all over. My thighs throbbed from all that riding and my neck hurt like someone had tied a knot in it. Normally, I’d have asked Lyriana to do some of that sweet healing magic on it, but she was sound asleep, sprawled on her side, snoring away with a distinctly un-royal puddle of drool under her mouth.
There was only one other person awake. Syan sat by the edge of the grove on a log, a leather bag by her side. I made my way over to her with a stretch and a yawn, and took a seat next to her. “Hey,” I said. “Can’t sleep either?”
She turned to me, and I saw heavy bags under her eyes, a distant weary look. “Bad dreams.”
“Yup. Believe me, I can relate.”
Syan nodded, turning away with the tiniest hint of a smile. This girl was so weird. She was like one of those optical illusions, where it looked like a rabbit from one angle and a mermaid from another. At some moments, like back in the camp when she’d been wiping out those Western soldiers, she looked like a goddess, glowing and powerful, beautiful beyond words. But now, up close, she looked achingly human. Her black hair was tangled, the blue streaks so dull you could barely see them. Her robe hung loose on her frame, and I could see how thin she really was, her collarbone pressing out against her skin. And there was something else about her, a deep exhaustion that made her look so much older than her years.
“Tilla,” she said at last, her accent making it sound more like Teela. “Your name is Tilla, yes? May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Kent…King Kent…he is your father.” I had a feeling I knew where this was going. “But you are not a Princess? You oppose him?”
I sighed. “By the time he’d become King, I was already kind of on the other side. Also, like, I’m a bastard daughter, so I was never really his heir. Not unless he legitimizes me. Anyway, it’s…the whole thing is complicated.”
Syan nodded. “In Benn Devalos, we say that our world is a straight line, and the world of you stillanders is a tangled knot. I had always heard this, but I had not known how true it was until I came out here.” She kicked idly at a clod of dirt. “There is so much I yet do not understand.”
“Honestly? I grew up in Noveris, and I feel pretty much the same way,” I replied. “You only got sent out here…what did you say? Four months ago?”
“Yes. It was my first time leaving Izteros. My first time seeing the rest of the world.” She craned her head up at the sky, olive skin glowing in the wan light. “On the way north, my brother and I rode through this forest, or one much like it. I still remember it so vividly. How wonderful it seemed. How truly magical. We have no forests in Izteros, you understand. Nothing like this.”
I nodded, but given the way she was talking, that muted-pain tone, I was pretty sure this story wasn’t really about the forest. “We rode through it side by side,” she went on, “just staring up at how tall these trees were, barely able to believe it. My brother, fool that he was, boasted that he could climb all the way to the top. I told him he couldn’t, and the next thing I knew, he was off, scrambling, leaping from branch to branch, until he was at the peak, tossing cones down on my head.” She laughed, and a tear ran down her cheek. “Such an idiot.”
I hadn’t meant to walk into a superheavy conversation, but now that we were here, there was no way back. “What was his name?”
“Kalin,” Syan said. “He was born a year after me, but we were as twins, always inseparable. The elders had planned to just send me to meet with your King, but he insisted that he come out on this journey with me. He claimed he’d keep me safe.”
I felt that familiar tightening in my chest, that plunging in my abdomen like my heart had become a sinking stone. Jax’s laughter rang in my ears. “What happened?”
“On our way up to the Heartlands, we came upon a massacre. A group of royal soldiers and bloodmage abominations, attacking some pilgrims. I still don’t know why. I just know they were killing everyone.” She breathed deeply, and when she spoke her words were even slower and more measured than usual. “I wanted to keep riding, but Kalin couldn’t let it slide. He rushed in, trying to save them, and a battle broke out. We fought well, but we’d never faced something like that before. Kalin was killed. Turned to ash right before me.” She swallowed deep. “And then I was alone.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. And there was so much more I wanted to say, so many thoughts and feelings that I didn’t know how to put into words. Because there was a shared pain between us, the never-ending agony of a lost brother, and a shared rage, a rage at Miles and his regime and everything he’d taken from us. But at the same time, this pain was so personal, so specific, that I couldn’t even begin to know what she was really feeling. Her brother had died…what? Three months ago, tops? I’d lost Jax almost two years ago, and I could barely remember what it had felt like in the early months, like the memories were lost behind a fog of grief.
If that’s where she was now, I couldn’t begin to touch that. So I did the only thing I could think of and reached out and gave her a little hug.
She pulled away sharply, so apparently, that was the wrong call. “It’s fine,” she said. “We come from sand, and we return to the sand. What matters is what we do with the time we have.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, but luckily, I didn’t have to reply, because right around then, Ellarion strolled over, rubbing at his eyes. “This the early-riser club?”
Syan shifted uncomfortably, and I cleared my throat, both of us pulling together like that moment hadn’t just happened. “Hey, Ellarion,” I said. “We’re just, you know. Catching up.”
“I see,” he said. “Listen, Syan, if you have a moment, I…was hoping to ask you a question.”
She turned to him. “What is it?”
“Do you think you could…I mean, if it’s not like a secret…see, I…” he stammered, and what was up with this awkwardness? The last year had changed Ellarion, sure, made him harder and sadder, but I’d never seen him like this. “I was wondering if you could teach me how you do your magic.”
“Teach you my magic? You mean, how I control the flame?”
“Sure, whatever you call it,” he said. “See, I…used to be a mage too. A pretty powerful one.”
“I know. I can see the fire within you. So much of it. It’s like…” She gestured around him. “Like a bottled storm.”
“Yeah. That’s how it feels,” Ellarion said, nodding. “Problem is, I can’t unbottle it. Not with these.” He raised his arms and turned his metal hands around. “I’ve been trying for almost a year now. And just…nothing. I can’t even do the simplest Art. I still see beams. I still feel the energy of the world all around me.” I remembered that moment back in Lightspire, when he’d grabbed my hand and I saw the world through his eyes, saw the dazzling pillars of energy all around us. “These hands, though…” Ellarion reached out with his right fingers elegantly curled, the way he used to when he’d make flames dance around. Nothing happened. “It’s like the beams pass right through them.”
“Beams,” Syan repeated, head cocked to the side with curiosity. “We call them strands of power.”
“Then you see them, too!” Ellarion exclaimed, trying to contain his excitement. “But you control them without using your hands a
t all! How? Please, I’m begging you. Teach me how.”
But Syan was uncertain. “It’s not so simple. Torchbearing is not something you can just teach, like the patterns of the stars or which plants are safe to eat. It’s something you feel.” She rose to her feet, and I noticed for the first time she and Ellarion were almost the same height. “Your magic, it comes from here,” she said, gently tapping the side of his head. “From study and practice, from learning all of these techniques. But ours is different. Ours comes from here.” She tapped her chest with two fingers. “The mastery doesn’t come from learning what to do. It comes from learning how to be.”
“I’m not going to pretend I understand what that means,” Ellarion said. “But I’m willing to learn, no matter what it takes. I have the power. At least let me try.”
Syan considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “Stillander magic comes from controlling the strands, the ‘beams’ as you call them. You reach out and touch them, bend them to your will to reshape the world. But our way is different. We don’t touch the strands. We bend the world around them, move the energy from one place to another without ever truly coming into contact.” She opened her leather bag and turned it over. The two zaryas tumbled out onto the grass. “The zaryas are the key to our power. They are the conduit through which we influence the world, through which we wind the strands.”
“Okay. Good. Yes.” Ellarion planted his feet in the dirt and clasped his hands together. “So. How do I make them move?”
Syan let out the world’s weariest sigh. “You don’t make the zaryas move. You become the zaryas. Then it’s simply a matter of moving yourself.”
I could see Ellarion struggling for the most polite words. “I…understand this can be difficult to explain in our language. But I’m just not following.”
Syan paced around Ellarion and stood right behind him. “Take off your hands.”
War of the Bastards Page 11
