by Jayne Castel
“We were friends,” she said softly.
Asher’s gaze hooded. “Aye … and you left without even saying goodbye.”
“I couldn’t.” Ryana’s grey-blue eyes glittered. “I wasn’t even thinking straight the day I fled.”
Asher stared back at her, and although his expression was still hard, Lilia caught the glimmer of sympathy in his eyes. “Why are you heading to the capital?” he asked, his attention shifting then to Lilia, Dain, and Saul.
Ryana’s face tensed. “We need to see Thrindul.”
Asher’s attention snapped back to her. “Why?”
Ryana glanced about her, as if expecting to see the servants of the shadows pressed up against the fire sphere, listening to their conversation. Her shoulders trembled slightly, suppressing a shudder. “It’s not safe out here to speak of such things,” she said.
Asher raised an eyebrow. “You’d face Thrindul again … after what you did?”
“I would.”
Asher’s look of incredulity increased. Lilia cast a veiled glance in Saul’s direction. He was watching Ryana, a scowl upon his face. Sensing that he was being watched, Saul met Lilia’s eye before favoring her with a cold smile.
Lilia’s pulse accelerated. There was something predatory in that expression.
“What brings a group of enchanters out here in the wild?” Dain asked, steering the conversation into safer waters. “Especially with shadow creatures roaming the night.”
Asher let out a long breath, glancing across at where dark, elongated shapes danced beyond the protective barrier. “They grow bolder with each passing night,” he murmured. “We’re patrolling the road to make sure travelers haven’t been stranded.”
“We haven’t passed anyone since Hillbrook,” Dain replied.
Asher nodded, his expression bleak. “These attacks have cut off the capital from the rest of the kingdom. No one will be getting in or out soon if they don’t stop.”
“And do you know what’s causing this?” Saul spoke up for the first time.
The enchanter’s mouth twisted, before he shook his head. “The last time shadow creatures walked abroad so boldly, Valgarth ruled. I don’t know how or why, but somehow The Shadow King’s power is awakening … and his servants are answering his call.”
25
Welcome Home
DAIN STARED UPON the glittering citadel, catching his breath.
The city sat at the end of the vale, nestled between two canine-shaped peaks. Surrounded by dark forest and rushing waterfalls, it climbed the mountainside in many levels. Walls of gleaming white stone encircled each tier.
The Eastern Road had brought them to its gates, following the edge of a mountain that rose like the prow of a great ship from a sea of green hills. Spruce and fir carpeted the hillsides. The conifers filled the cool air with their sharp scent. The road ran alongside a swiftly flowing river, and the rush of running water and the titter of birdsong filled the vale.
On the way in they’d passed tended fields, paddocks where goats and sheep grazed, and clusters of timber cottages. The shadows were lengthening, and workers trekked back to their homes after a day in the fields. Scythes, spades and hoes in hand, they paid little attention to the trickle of travelers on the road.
Dain had noted that many of the cottars’ dwellings were damaged: doors and shutters hung off hinges, and some had their roofs caved in. Those farmers who had finished work for the day followed the other travelers into the city. Clearly, it was not safe to remain beyond the walls after dark.
Although dusk was still some way off, fires burned atop the city walls and from watchtowers. At its crown rose a great tower, with a gilded turret. The Tower of the North was an impressive sight. Dain had heard that the Kingdom of Farras housed this tower’s twin far to the south. He suddenly felt very far from his parents’ inn in Port Needle and the sleepy Isle of Orin. The Royal City of Rithmar was famed throughout Serran for its beauty, but Dain had thought those tales exaggerated. Folk called it ‘the jewel of the four kingdoms’—and he finally understood why.
He glanced back at Ryana. Tearing her gaze from the citadel, she smiled, although the expression was brittle. “I never thought to set eyes on this city again.”
To Dain’s right, Asher huffed. “Welcome home.”
It had taken the party two days to reach the outskirts of The Royal City. The enchanters and their guests had fallen in behind a group traveling to the capital from outlying villages. The men were dressed in travel-stained leathers, with hard-faces. Some had swords at their sides, others had axes slung onto their backs, while still others carried ash spears.
Dain cast Asher a questioning look. “It appears the city is readying itself for war.”
“Aye,” the enchanter replied. “The king is rallying fighting men to his side.”
“We heard in Idriss that Veldoras was under attack.”
Asher nodded, although his grey eyes clouded. “Aye … it fell three days ago. The Swallow Guard is no more, the entire Thûn royal family has been slaughtered.” Asher’s expression turned hard then. “Anthor butchers.”
Dain glanced back over his shoulder at Saul. Asher and the other enchanters believed he was a southern mercenary. Dain wondered what Asher’s reaction would be if he knew Reoul of Anthor’s youngest son walked amongst them.
Lilia walked alongside Ryana as she entered the gates of the capital.
A great wall of iron and wood—at least twenty feet high—formed a stark barrier before the lower town. Beyond, a tightly-packed township of stone houses stretched out alongside the banks of the River Rith, greeting the travelers as they drew closer. Most of the buildings facing the road were workshops. Jewelers, weapon smiths, iron-mongers, carpenters and tailors all squeezed in—hoping to gain trade from the many folk who journeyed in and out of the capital every day.
One glance at her surroundings, and Lilia knew this city was far richer than Idriss. The port city was big and rough, but the Royal City of Rithmar was on another scale entirely. It both intimidated and amazed her. She craned her neck up at the white city above, feeling tiny in comparison.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Ryana’s voice drew her gaze from the towering citadel. The enchanter wore a shuttered expression. “I remember being awestruck the first time I set eyes upon this place.”
“How old were you?” Lilia asked, curious.
“I’d just turned thirteen.” Ryana’s mouth curved softly, although her eyes shadowed. “My parents were eager to rid themselves of me.”
“Why?”
“I come from Ridder Vale … it’s an isolated village where being different isn’t encouraged.”
Lilia offered her a sympathetic smile. “I know how that feels.”
Ryana cocked her head. “How did you manage to keep your secret in a place like Shingle Ford?”
“My parents protected me.” Lilia frowned. Only now did she realize why her mother had feared so for her. “Ma especially … eventually I began to feel suffocated.”
The party joined the long queue outside the gates of the citadel, waiting to be let inside. The sun was setting across the vale when they entered the citadel at last. The guards at the gate didn’t question them as they went through with the group of enchanters. However, they had barely gone a few yards across the wide cobbled square beyond when a young woman approached them. She ran across the square, her pale, floss-like hair flying like a flag behind her.
The girl was dressed in a smoke-grey robe, marking her as an Enchanter of the Light; although her clothing was not travel-stained like the robes of those who had just entered the city.
“Asher!’ She rushed up to the enchanter, her eyes huge on her thin face. “You were due back yesterday.”
Asher greeted her with a weary smile. “We traveled farther west than planned, Rina … and just as well we did.” He gestured to the group standing behind him. “These four needed saving.”
Rina’s gaze swept over the faces of the newcomers,
before it shifted back to Asher. “You’re back just in time,” she said, her young face solemn. “More people have been maimed by shadow creatures. The Hall of Healing is filled with the injured. Some are in a bad state … they need your help.”
Asher heaved a sigh. “I’ve been walking since daybreak … isn’t there anyone else?”
She shook her head. “None with your skill.”
Asher turned to the group following him. “Come, we’ll make a stop at the Hall before you meet the High Enchanter.”
Without another word, Asher set off up the hill. Lilia fell in with the group following, her own legs protesting at the steep climb.
The main road, The King’s Way, corkscrewed up the glittering cone of the citadel. Lilia followed the party, glancing around her with interest. Firelight glowed from behind shuttered windows, and the voices of men, women, and children echoed out into the empty street as folk prepared their suppers. It was almost dark now; most folk were safely indoors. Lamps filled with tallow lit the cobbled expanse before them.
It took them a while to climb half-way up the citadel, but eventually they arrived at a great stone fortress. Solid, flat roofed, and lined with battlements, the House of Light and Darkness was not what Lilia had expected. It was the ugliest building she had seen so far inside the city. It looked like military barracks.
Three oaken doors greeted them. The central door was the largest, leading into the fortress itself. A door knocker hung in its center—the face of a great horned stag holding a heavy iron ring in its mouth.
The two doors flanking it led into wings that sloped down from the main structure. They had markings inscribed into the grey stone above them: the eight-pointed Star of Darkness on the left and the Star of Light on the right.
Asher led them right, threw the door open, and marched inside.
The Hall of Healing was full. The injured occupied the pallets, some sitting up with arms or legs bandaged, while others lay worryingly still, covered by blankets. One or two of the pallets had been curtained off, as if the injuries that lay within were too grave for the others to see.
The hall was a long, narrow structure lined with the straw-filled pallets on both sides and an aisle through the center. Oil filled cressets burned along the pitted-stone walls, casting a golden hue over the gaunt, ashen faces of the folk laid-up here.
Lilia breathed in the metallic odor of blood, laced with something else—something resinous and pungent, like pine sap but much stronger.
She screwed up her nose, glancing at Ryana. “What’s that smell?”
“Eld Oil,” Ryana replied. “It comes from the sap of a tree that only grows in the Rithmar Highlands.”
Around them, the Enchanters of the Light who’d followed Asher into the hall, got to work. They washed their hands in basins near the door before picking up baskets overflowing with bandages, vials, and clay bottles, and hurrying to attend the injured.
Asher led them. Lilia observed him, fascinated by the man’s cool confidence, the way he knew exactly what needed to be done, and by whom.
Ryana stepped forward. “Can I help?”
Asher, who had stopped by the pallet of a man with a grievous slash-wound to his left thigh, glanced up. “Get me some boiling water and fresh linen.”
Ryana did as bid, while Asher inspected the wound, his gaze dispassionate. “It’s started to fester,” he announced.
The man, a burly fellow who looked like a cottar, groaned. “They broke into our cottage,” he moaned. “Slew my wife and carried my daughter off.”
Lilia stifled a gasp, understanding now the look of desolation on the man’s face. He did not appear to care if he lived or died. Asher didn’t answer the man; his attention was wholly focused on the task at hand.
Ryana brought the hot water and cloths as asked. She then sat down next to the man, as Asher started to clean his wounds. The farmer’s yell of agony echoed down the hall, and he began to thrash. Ryana tried to hold him still, but he flung up a meaty arm and knocked her off her low stool. Picking herself up, she beckoned to Saul and Dain. “I need your help.”
It took all three of them to hold the man down while Asher washed out the deep wound, clearing out the pus that had begun to ooze from it. Looking on, Lilia started to feel slightly ill. She wished there was something she could do to help.
Once Asher had cleaned the pus away, he produced a clay bottle from the basket next to him, removing the wooden stopper. The resinous scent of Eld wafted toward Lilia, making her eyes water. She watched as Asher poured a few drops onto the open wound.
Then, he began to gather the Light.
Asher had strong hands with long, elegant fingers, and he moved his right hand in a circle over the cottar’s wounded thigh.
The flickering cressets nearby began to dance. A moment later the one nearest flared, a bolus of flame spinning forth into the air above their heads. Asher stretched out his right hand, turning it over so that the outline of the Star of Light upon his palm was exposed.
The ball of fire dropped into his palm, emitting a flash of light that made all those near him avert their gazes.
When Lilia looked back, she saw his star tattoo now glowed gold.
Asher turned his palm over and swept it down the gash, just a few inches from the raw flesh.
Lilia watched, her breath catching, as the wound healed before her eyes.
It took a few sweeps, but each time Asher passed his hand over the gash, it looked better. By the fifth sweep, the glow from Asher’s palm had extinguished, and a thick crusted scab now covered the man’s thigh, where a deep open wound had been just moments earlier.
Dain muttered an oath under his breath. Lilia had to agree with him. She too had never witnessed such a transformation. Asher’s calmness also impressed her; although his bedside manner was perfunctory, bordering on cold. Perhaps his lack of warmth toward his patient was due to exhaustion, she reasoned.
“There you are.” A deep male voice echoed down the hall. “Rina told me you’d returned.”
Asher exhaled deeply and straightened up, his gaze shifting past Ryana and Lilia, to the open door behind them.
Lilia saw Ryana’s shoulders tense. Alarm flickered in Asher’s grey eyes for a heartbeat, before his expression smoothed.
“Thrindul,” he said, rising to his feet. “I was on my way to see you … but there were things I had to deal with here first.”
Lilia swiveled, following the direction of Asher’s gaze to where a man stood in front of the entrance. Tall, broad shouldered, and built like a warrior, he wore the same style robes as the other enchanters, only this robe was snowy white. The man carried an intricately carved staff, topped with the head of a roaring stag. He had blue eyes, long dark hair streaked with grey, and a face that would have been handsome if it had not been so hard.
The man stepped forward. “Rina tells me you saved a group of travelers on the road … is this them?”
“Aye,” Asher replied, his tone subdued. “Thrindul …”
The words Asher was about to say next died in his throat, as Ryana turned to face the newcomer.
The High Enchanter’s gaze met hers, and his strong face drained of color. “You.”
26
The Council Meets
“IT GROWS LATE.” Thrindul’s voice carried across the chamber, stilling the rumble of conversation. “We should start.”
The High Enchanter sat upon a carved oaken chair at the head of a vast oaken table. Like the staff he carried, the chair had been carved in the likeness of a stag. Great antlers protruded from the back of the chair and each armrest had been carved into a roaring stag’s head.
Thrindul had been impatiently drumming his fingers on the armrest as he waited for the rest of the council members to stop their chatter. On the back of his chair, its gleaming obsidian gaze observing them all, sat a magnificent white hawk.
The chatter died away, and all gazes shifted to Ryana. Some of the enchanters looked upon her coldly, while others
glared with outright venom. Ignoring the hostile welcome, Ryana sat calmly—flanked by Saul, Dain, and Lilia.
Sixteen enchanters—members of the High Council—surrounded them. Only the High Enchanter wore a white robe; the rest of them were dressed in smoke-grey or charcoal. There were equal numbers of the Light and Dark, and they varied in age. Thrindul looked to be the oldest, at around fifty winters, although a red-haired woman of similar age wearing charcoal robes of the Dark sat to his right.
Asher had taken his place near the head of the table, to the High Enchanter’s left.
“As you can all see, Ryana has returned to us.” There was no missing the animosity in Thrindul’s voice. “After ten long years.”
Ryana dipped her head. “High Enchanter … thank you for seeing me.”
Thrindul’s mouth pursed. “Out with it then,” he replied coldly. “Why have you come?”
“I wish to make amends for the wrong I committed years ago,” she began, before stealing a quick glance at Lilia. “I have brought you a gift … the second half of The King Breaker.”
A deathly hush fell in the Council Chamber. A cool mountain breeze whispered through the high-roofed space, ruffling the hair of those present. The chamber sat on the top level of the fortress. Arched windows lined the west and south walls. Lanterns burned on window ledges, casting gilded light across the long oaken table dominating the space.
Ryana swallowed, her nervousness betraying her. “Lilia, show them.”
I have brought you a gift. Lilia didn’t like how Ryana had phrased that. Frowning, she withdrew the stone from under her shirt. As always it felt ice-cold to touch, its iridescent surface gleaming in the hallowed lantern light.
All gazes in the chamber swiveled to her, pinning Lilia to the spot. She saw the tight, hungry look on their faces, the gleam of their eyes—and it put her on edge. It was Thrindul who broke the silence. “How did this come into your possession, girl?”
“Just one moment,” Saul interjected, his voice a low drawl. “Before we continue, I’d like to make something clear. This long-lost friend of yours isn’t the only one responsible for bringing the stone safely here.” Ryana cast him a hard look, but Saul ignored it. “I found it, she didn’t.”
