The Heir of Eyria

by Osku Alanen

  “Do you have a moment, my lady?” a gentle, familiar voice came from outside.

  “Enter,” Alessia answered. Her heart started pounding as the handsome stranger called Raven entered her pavilion.

  Raven bowed deep, revealing a bright smile colored with boyish charm. She didn’t know the man’s true age, but she estimated him to be in his thirties—an old man compared to her.

  “There is something I would like to discuss with you, if you could spare the time,” the man said, casting a glance in the darkness where her servants awaited.

  Alessia nodded, motioning for them to leave. They obeyed without a word. To them, Alessia was not a prisoner, but their queen and master.

  “Thank you,” Raven said with a smile.

  “What is it this time, Raven? You keep coming back to me, time and time again. Who are you, really, and what do you want from me?”

  Raven sat down on the chair opposite to Alessia, right where the General had sat the night previously. The army marched, but whenever they stopped for the night, her servants remade her pavilion, down to the tiniest detail—even the General’s glass was still there. “Fear not, my lady, my loyalty does not belong to the Nubian Empire. I’m not your enemy here.”

  “Then who are you loyal to? The Eyrian Kingdom?” Alessia snorted, skepticism coloring her tone.

  “No,” the man said, “but I must admit, I am fond of the Eyrians. And I would hate to see it fall into the hands of the Empire. No matter what good General promises, I have my… doubts about his way. I know he wants to return the stolen prince to his rightful throne—but at what cost? Should his armies lay siege to the capital, what is there left to rule in a smoking rubble?”

  “Speak plainly,” Alessia sighed, massaging her temples. “All these games are giving me a headache.”

  “Straight to the point, eh? I admire that, my lady. What I propose might sound suspiciously like a trap to you, but I assure you, I speak from the bottom of my heart. So, would you be kind enough to hear my words?”

  Alessia nodded.

  “I can help you escape from this ‘prison’. With the help of my friend, here, I can deliver you to the capital—at least a day or two before the armies of our beloved General arrive.”

  “And why,” Alessia swallowed, “would you do this to me?”

  “Because I do not wish to see the city engulfed in flames—like I just told you, princess. And if there’s even the slightest chance my actions could prevent a senseless slaughter, I will do whatever it takes. Men should not fight men, not if there’s another way. If we can warn your father, we give him time. Time he could use to rally his troops, to call them home. Should General Rud’ak see the Eyrians, well-prepared and ready for a siege, he will think twice before commencing his attack.”

  “The General does not seem a man that would give in so easily,” Alessia muttered, pouring herself a glass of wine. She offered a glass for Raven, but he refused. At first, she had thought this man a fool, but there was something about him that—a charisma that made men pause and listen.

  “Sadly, I must agree. I fear the General has committed his heart and mind for this mission. Little can persuade him to abandon this road he has taken.”

  “But there is something?”

  Raven’s eyes seemed to twinkle. “There is. If the missing prince is found before the siege begins, then I believe even he would have to reconsider. Diplomacy should always prevail over war. The General is a man of war—ruthless and unyielding—but he is not unreasonable.”

  “I don’t think my father will give up his throne, even if he is found,” Alessia answered bluntly. “He is not that kind of man.”

  And now that he has lost his heirs, what does he have left to lose? A man with nothing to lose is a dangerous foe. No. He will never give up the throne; he’ll hold down to it to his dying breath.

  “I know. Yet, perhaps it is the optimist inside my heart, but I have a feeling we might reach a compromise of sorts. No matter how good a king your father undoubtedly is, one man cannot rule forever.”

  Alessia nodded. “My father has his faults, but he is not unreasonable. He does not want to wage war, not if it can be avoided. And I believe I understand your meaning, Raven. He is, after all… old,” Alessia said, swallowing as the last word left her lips. She gazed deep into Raven’s eyes, frowning. “But tell me, Raven, what is it that you truly want? Forgive me for saying this, but I don’t believe you are doing this solely for the sake of my kingdom nor for the sake of justice.”

  “Sadly, you are right, my lady,” the man sighed. “First, I would like a private audience with the King. I have… things I want to discuss with him. Things only meant for his ears.”

  “And second?”

  Raven grinned. “I do expect to get a hefty reward for delivering the King back his daughter. I am a mercenary, after all.”

  Of course. There it is. Not the noble hero, after all, Alessia thought but left unsaid. “Yes, I’ll see to it that your both wishes are fulfilled.”

  “Excellent.” The man clapped his hands together. “Then I suggest you get ready to leave.”

  “What, right now?” Alessia asked with a voice reduced to a whisper. She couldn’t see her servants, but they no doubt stood close by, ready for her every and any command.

  “Do you have somewhere else to be? I doubt you’ve made many friends here,” Raven grinned.

  Alessia pressed her lips together, thinking. Dare he trust this stranger? No matter the truth behind his words, the offer was tempting, nevertheless. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Rud’ak takes away my wine? Alessia chuckled at the thought. She could live with that—probably. “Fine,” she said, sighing. “But there is one other condition.”

  Raven cocked his head. “My lady?”

  Alessia could feel… something light up, deep inside of her—a desire she didn’t think she could fulfill this fast. “You seem like a resourceful man, Raven. I will let you ‘save’ me, but only if you do one… thing for me.”

  “Tell me what it is, and I will do my best to grant it, my lady.”

  “I want you to capture the assassin that your General sent to murder my family. I want him brought before my father, in chains. I want him to feel the same fear and despair, just as he made me feel. And I want to be the one to end his miserable existence.”

  Alessia could feel the man’s hesitation. He seemed surprised by Alessia’s request. Then he nodded. “Understood, my lady. One assassin, gagged and bound, coming right up!”

  “Then we have a deal?” Alessia asked.

  “Yes, we most certainly do.” Raven reached out with his hand, and Alessia shook it. And so, a deal was made. Had the gods heard her prayers, bringing this man to her? Now she had a chance to save her kingdom and exact vengeance on the man who had taken everything from her.

  Alessia smiled for the first time since her capture.

  ***

  “Quiet, now. They cannot see us, but they most certainly can hear us,” Raven whispered.

  The man had kept his promise. He had brought the unconscious assassin before her, and even now, they walked across the war camp, undetected. She knew it was something to do with the silent, hooded man Raven had brought with him. The darkness might have hidden his face, but Alessia could see the runes spanning across the man’s face and arms; they glowed ever so dimly as they walked past squadron after squadron of men, all oblivious to the four strangers making their escape under the cloudy night sky. By all accounts they should have seen them, but their eyes looked right pats them, as if they were invisible.

  So, this is Avalon, the magus who follows Raven.

  And just like that, the impossible had become real. Once, she had thought sorcery a thing of legends—a fable. But now that she witnessed the impossible made manifest before her very eyes, she could no longer deny that the world was a much larger—and much more complex a place—than she had ever thought possible.

  She looked at the bound assassin Raven carr
ied effortlessly on his back with disgust. Thankfully, he had been rendered unconscious. Hearing his revolting voice would have been the last thing she wanted. It took all her willpower to stop her fingers from slicing the man’s throat and be done with this nightmare. No. This man deserved so much more—she would not grant the man so peaceful an end. Just like Doctor Meridian had taught her, patience was the key. She would make the man suffer. And who knows, once they were safely back in the castle, perhaps she could borrow an instrument or two from High Inquisitor Everny? It took a considerable effort to prevent a smile forming in Alessia’s lips.

  “Stay focused,” Raven whispered, grabbing Alessia’s sleeve, seconds before she collided with a dozing soldier. Alessia flinched, muttering her apologies to Raven as they walked out the camp in silence.

  “Well, now. I believe we’ve made it far enough,” Raven cheerfully declared, lowering the body of the unconscious assassin to the ground, groaning with the effort.

  Alessia squinted, trying to see the outlines of the Nubian war camp. And there it was, a tiny dot in the distance. They were safe—for the moment, at least. She sat on a boulder, removing her shoes, ill-intended for marching. She touched her calloused feet with distaste, surprised how quickly they had formed. Was she truly this unaccustomed to walking?

  Raven frowned, noticing Alessia’s predicament. “Do you think you will be able to walk all the way home, my lady?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry about me. I can handle pain, Raven.”

  “Good,” Raven said with the same smile he kept showing her time and time again, casting a glance towards a cliff where his hooded friend stood, silent. He hadn’t spoken a word since they’ve met. Alessia wondered if the man was a mute, and while her mind was filled with questions, she still hesitated.

  Since when have I turned down a chance like this? Think Alessia, you are likely the only scholar in Eyria alive to have a chance to talk with a living, breathing magus. This is no time for embarrassment.

  “Excuse me?” Alessia said, hesitation coloring her tone.

  The man Raven had called Avalon turned towards her, looking down. He was at least a head taller than her, and he was cloaked in a dark, plain robe. The clouds had made way during their escape, and while the moonlight illuminated the lands around them in clear, white light, she still found it difficult to see the man’s masked features. Still, she could see the runes clear as day—carved into the man’s very flesh. They were intricate, meticulous works of art. She thought she might have recognized some of them, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember where she had seen them.

  “How can I help you?” The stranger replied in a tone that made Alessia’s heart skip a beat with anticipation. A voice, loud and clear, colored by the Nubian tongue. Still, he did speak Common.

  “Raven, your friend, he called you a magus.”

  “Yes.”

  Alessia felt uncomfortable hearing the calm breathing of the man staring at her. He seemed to wait for her to go on. It made her heart race faster. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you become one?”

  “I did not. It is a gift I was born with.”

  “I see,” Alessia said with a nod. That would explain the rarity of the magi in the modern world. In the distant past, it was said that the magi were widespread. But judging by the man’s words, sorcery was a hereditary ability. Should the magi fail to pass on their ability to the next generation, their extinction was all but guaranteed.

  “That man over there,” Alessia pointed at the unconscious assassin, her lips quivering with disgust, “is he a magus, too?”

  “No,” the magus shook his head. “He is one of the Isshiren. His ability is not innate but facilitated by a trinket.”

  “Facilitated by a… trinket?” Alessia muttered, furrowing her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  The man snapped his fingers, muttering an incantation under his breath, words that made no sense to her. Then, suddenly, the shirt of the unconscious assassin burst open. A medallion floated in the air before her eyes, silently.

  This is sorcery. Real, undeniably real sorcery. This man truly is a magus.

  “Easy there, Avalon. What have we said about your reserve?” Raven said with a startled voice, frowning.

  The medallion dropped to the ground. Alessia took it into her shaking fingers, mesmerized by the intricate craftmanship. A dark, faint purple glow emanated from the jewel inside it. Was this the source of the assassin’s power? Alessia could feel a hunger growing inside her. The same hunger that had made her pursue the field of knowledge, despite her father’s protests.

  Raven frowned again. “Careful, my lady. Relics such as those are powerful, but they come with a cost.”

  “What… cost?”

  Raven pointed at the assassin. “It’s different for each person. But there’s always a price to pay when you borrow strength from the beyond.”

  The face Alessia had thought belonging to the assassin melted away, revealing a disfigured old man. Scar tissue covered his entire face; not a spot had been left unburned.

  “This is his true face?” Alessia asked, swallowing. She wanted to turn away but found that she couldn’t.

  “Indeed, my lady. They are all like this, the spies of the Emperor. The Isshiren. Their powers hail from the beyond, facilitated by a medium of sorts—by trinkets. And whenever powers like that are used, there is a cost. For him, it was his face. The part Rubaron valued the most about himself. You should think twice before choosing the same road, my lady. I would hate for you to end up like this man.”

  It is not my looks I would lose, I fear. “You knew this man, this Rubaron?” Alessia found herself asking.

  Raven nodded. “I knew him, yes, when I lived in Arubinia.”

  She saw the man pitied the assassin, and it made Alessia sick in her stomach. “You knew him, and yet you’re fine surrendering him to me? You know what I will do to him, don’t you?”

  “There is nothing left of the man I once knew, my lady. I owe him nothing. And yes, I am in terms with that. You can do whatever you wish the man—that was our deal.”

  Raven turned his gaze towards Alessia. She felt her cheeks fluster. “So, no. I do not intend to stay you from the path of vengeance. You have the right, after what this man did to your family. But heed my words princess: killing him will fix nothing. No matter what the man has done to you, vengeance does not fill the void in your heart—I know from experience.”

  “We’ll see,” Alessia replied coldly, turning his back to the men, too disgusted to deal with any of them.

  She picked up Rubaron’s pendant from the ground when she saw Raven was looking elsewhere.

  ***

  “I am princess Alessia Vas Nerian. I demand that you grant me entrance to my home,” Alessia said to the battalion of armed men standing guard, her hands placed sternly on her hips. The guard squinted, looking at the girl in front of her with suspicion. Then he looked at Raven and Avalon—and the unconscious man they were carrying. He burst out laughing, his companions following suit soon after.

  “Are you now, girl? Well, in that case, I’m the Emperor of Nubia. Pleased to meet you, your highness,” the man bowed mockingly. The other guards burst out laughing, clapping their hands together. Alessia could feel her cheeks redden.

  The guard pointed at Rubaron, poking the unconscious man. “And what’s up with this fellow? He’s not dead, is he?”

  Raven answered. “He’s a companion of ours. Alas, I fear he spent the night drinking, and this one’s a sound sleeper at that.”

  “I can tell,” the guard muttered, his brows furrowing. He didn’t seem to buy Raven’s explanation. “If d be kind enough to set the old man down on the ground, over there.” The guard pointed by the side of the road. Alessia noticed how the other guards gripped their halberds more tightly, laughter no longer coloring their voices.

  Raven cleared his throat. “Gentlemen.” All eyes were now turned towards him. “The lady here spoke the truth. She is the princess
that has gone missing. This is her highness, Alessia Vas Nerian. Surely you can see she possesses the royal blood? Look. Closely.”

  Alessia saw Raven exchange a silent nod with Avalon standing close by, silent as he always was. It was faint in the sunlight, but Alessia could tell his runes were glowing again.

  The guard hesitated, squinting. He seemed unsure of himself, as if he wasn’t sure where he was anymore. He looked at Alessia once more and let out a sudden gasp. “By the gods, it is her!” the man shouted, dropping to his knees and bowing his head. The other guards looked at each other, confused, but they, too, went on their knees. “Please forgive me, my lady. I didn’t realize,” the man muttered, eyes focused on the dirt below.

  Alessia lifted her chin up, and she corrected her posture. “Finally,” she said with a voice colored with privilege—like so many of the nobility with men far below their stations. “I have urgent need to return to the castle. I will need horses—for myself and for my companions.”

  “At once,” the guard whispered, bowing deeply, angrily motioning for the guards nearby to run for the stables.

  They rode directly for the castle.

  ***

  “What do you mean my father refuses to see me?” Alessia raised her voice far louder than she intended. She looked at Percevel—her father’s servant—with disbelief. In her youth, this door had stood ajar, but now it was barred shut. Had her father truly grown this paranoid?

  How could things have changed this much in my absence? Father….

  “His highness is not taking in petitioners nor visitors while he mourns—and I’m afraid that includes you, too, my lady. However, he is glad to see you back, safe and unharmed. Nevertheless, I fear this door will remain shut so long the assassin still roams free.”

  “That’s all he cares for—the assassin? Oh, Percevel,” Alessia sighed. “Well, in that case, I know he will make an exception for me.” She pointed at the unconscious man Raven was still carrying.