Rose’s green eyes seemed to shine with surprise. “Ben, that’s amazing! How did you do all that? Does being a Nephilim give you super-brains, too?”
Ben laughed. “I’m not sure about that one. You’re definitely smarter than me, so it probably comes from my human side.”
Rose smiled and put a hand against Ben’s cheek. “You are human, Ben. Don’t forget that. You’re just a bit extra, that’s all.”
Ben took Rose closer, holding her tight. “I’m going to miss you, Rose. I don’t like being separated.”
“It’ll only be a year, then we can get through this together.”
“Deal. I guess I better load my things on the airship so I’m ready to leave in the morning. I’ll see you then.”
Ben made his way to his room to gather his supplies. He didn’t have much besides the Voidsweeper—the powerful sword once owned by his father—and some extra clothes. He would bring his quiver, but there was no point; his bow had been left with Arynn at the Battle of Jordysc, and he didn’t know what happened to it. For all he knew, Arynn still had it. If she were even alive.
His bed was soft, and Ben wanted to lie there for the rest of the night next to his faithful wolf companion, Sierra. The wolf had followed Ben since the start of his quest to save Rose three moons ago, but Ben later discovered she had been built by his father to not only watch him, as the ravens had been directed, but to protect him as well. As far as Ben knew, his father didn’t name the wolf as he had the two ravens. Instead, she had been named by Arynn, and sometimes being close with the wolf made Ben feel closer to his missing friend. I just want to know what happened to you, Arynn. I want to know that you’re okay. I want to be with you.
There was a knock at his door. He assumed it was Rose since she was the only other person who ever came to his room. “Come on in!” he yelled from his bed.
The door opened, but it wasn’t Rose. Instead, the girl at the door had curly black hair with hazel colored eyes, and a large burn that stretched from beneath her chin to her left lower eyelid.
Mandi scanned the room for a moment. “Quite the room you’ve got here,” she said. “It’s almost got enough room for you and Sierra.”
Ben chuckled. “Almost. That’s for sure. What’s up?”
“My mother wanted me to let you know that I’m going with you. She wants me to give a message to Marcus and Jesse.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “You mean she wants you to keep an eye on me, now that she knows I’m the Alliance’s most powerful weapon?”
Mandi raised her hands in defeat. “Like I ever know what’s going through my mother’s mind.”
“So, yes. You’re to keep an eye on me.”
“Pretty much,” she said. “I just figured I’d let you know so you aren’t surprised when you see me on the ship in the morning. Besides, now you’ve got someone to talk to on the long flight.” She glanced at Sierra. “Someone who talks back, I mean.”
“There will be others on the ship. Guild members and sentinels usually go with me to trade supplies between Freztad and Svaldway.”
“I meant a friend to talk to talk to.”
“Oh,” was all Ben managed to say in response. “Yeah, that’ll be nice. I’ll, uh, see you in the morning.”
Ben smiled when he thought about how he had only let Mandi come to the meeting in Freztad due to her mother’s insistence. He didn’t really know her too well and originally felt awkward taking the flight to Svaldway with her, but he focused on the thought that he had one more person to call a friend. He could still hardly believe he had so many friends now. They gave him a greater purpose, a stronger motivation to train.
3
Rose
Freztad, Penteric Alliance
The top officials within the Penteric Alliance sat around Valhaven’s carved linden wood table. Rose seemed to spend nearly all of her time here. They’d been here since well before the sun had set, starting the night off with the customary Summit Feast. Plank-grilled trout lathered with a citrusy butter from Mashariq and a peppered red potato soup from Vänalleato served as their first course, followed shortly thereafter by skewered lamb and unleavened wheat bread with a spiced hummus from Sydgilbyn. As if they hadn’t been full enough, Zevi provided a roasted boar that had been cooking on a spit since late morning. And, of course, to show off the power of the seeds from the Vault, Kabedge and his sister, Risa, prepared a salad with a fresh mix of sliced apples, roasted walnuts, and cabbage with a grape vinegar dressing.
As grand as their meal had been, their discussion throughout the night still left a foul taste on Rose’s tongue.
“They’ve come at us twice now,” Thane Morgiana of Talamdor said. “Both times with hosts of fifty or more.” The Thane was a pale woman with blonde hair streaked with gray, and her voice was cold as stone, demanding respect.
“Mashariq has been assaulted as well,” Sheika Thalia of Mashariq added. “However, little damage has been done. These men don’t appear to be as well trained as reports have suggested of these Ænærians.” Thalia was as dark as Morgiana was pale, and her voice was soft yet oddly stern. The thane and sheika had become steadfast friends since the Penteric Alliance had formed and quite the force to be reckoned with. Both were strong women, well respected by their people. It was only to Geon and the Grand Elder to whom they had to prove themselves. Thalia was winning over the Grand Elder with her more levelheaded and diplomatic approaches, whereas Morgiana earned Geon’s praise for her sense of honor and glory. “Nor have they yet used any of their magic weapons,” Thalia added.
Alejandra sighed, blowing her blue bangs from her eyes. “They’re not magic. They’re merely fueled using photovoltaic receptors that store sunlight.”
The rest of the company—save for Darius the ex-Rhion and Bjorn the Miners Guild member from Svaldway—glared at Alejandra. They didn’t understand her jargon. Even Rose’s short time with her father, the late King Xander—or Julius as she had known him—had not been enough to grasp the depth of Ænærian technology. Alejandra was the leader of the Miners Guild, the elusive society established by Rose’s uncle sixteen years ago. She had spent more time learning about the Old Days and Ænærian secrets than Rose had spent breathing.
Still, a short time seemed to be all Ben needed to understand Ænæria’s ‘magic’ weapons. Oh, Ben. I could use your help here.
“It matters little if the weapons operate by magic or by your so-called science,” Jarl Geon of Sydgilbyn grumbled. Geon was the fiercest of the Alliance leaders. His olive skin was covered in scars from battles and raids with wastelanders dating back decades.
“It does matter,” Alejandra countered. “Because they would be using their solar weapons if they were truly Ænærian forces.”
“You don’t think the Ænærians are behind this?” Rose asked.
“Absolutely, I do. They’re just not using their own men. Rhion are organized fighters who thrive on strategy and discipline. None of the raids on Talamdor and Mashariq match that description. I think the Ænærians are paying wastelanders to fight for them.”
“Why would they do that?” Morgiana asked. “I took these Ænærians to be above the use of mercenaries.”
“Watch yourself, Thane,” Geon snarled. Sydgilbyn’s greatest pride was their military which only afforded to stay as well trained from the years of combat experience their fighters received by selling their swords as a service throughout the Penteric Alliance and beyond the wastes.
“They’ve done it before,” Kristos, the new commander of the Freztad sentinels said. “Randolph hired a crew to attack Freztad. They killed Rakshi and then kidnapped Rose and my brother, as well as two other sentinels. People they still have, I might add.”
“Could this mean they’re running short on fighters?” Thalia asked. “After all, we’ve been receiving more refugees every day. Had it not been for the Vault’s seeds, we’d not be able to feed all of them.”
“It’s possible,” Alejandra said, scratching the back of her
head. “We’ve had multiple reports of people being discontent under Randolph’s rule. Slaves are even being freed and replacing people’s jobs.”
“Then now is the time to strike!” Geon exclaimed.
“You would truly have us start a war?” the Grand Elder of Vänalleato asked, wiping his beard from the spilled jelly of a Talamdor red berry pastry. Rose did not know the man’s name, for it was Vänalleatian custom to treat each Grand Elder as the reincarnation of his predecessor. It was believed that when the body of the Grand Elder died, his spirit passed on to the next worthy Elder, rather than joining the Great Dream with the Ascendants—the spirits of the departed. The old spirit of the host drifted off to the Great Dream while the Grand Elder’s spirit claimed a new body. His name was thus unimportant, for he was not a man but an enlightened spirit who had lived a hundred lifetimes.
Or so the story went.
Rose had always believed that all religions were true to the people who believed in them. It was a belief that was necessary for the chief of Freztad, for the village was home to people of all faiths. Though it was the smallest settlement in the Alliance, it saw a great number of guests and travelers. Her travels with her blood father in Ænæria challenged that belief. Julius’s people believed only in their own religion—Sol Invictus, the Invincible Sun. All other beliefs were falsehoods and punished accordingly. It was a belief system quite foreign to Rose. She struggled to accept it as part of a collective truth because it left no room for interpretation.
When she had returned to Ænæria after nearly dying at the Vault, Ben told her how Julius had used Sol Invictus for power, and it was all based on a misinterpretation of the Enochians—the true enemies.
Ænæria needed to be stopped first. Even Ben agreed with that. How was she to find a way to defeat Ænæria and ally with them in the fight against people from another world?
“We’re already at war, graybeard!” Geon shouted, slamming his fist on the table. Plates and cups rattled, and a glass pitcher of wine nearly toppled over the edge. Rose felt herself jolt with a fright. “It’s time we stop fooling ourselves otherwise! You should know this better than any—you’re the closest to their borders. Surely you’ve been attacked more than any!”
“Do we even have the numbers for a war?” Thalia asked. “From what I’ve gathered, Ænæria’s territory is quadruple the size of ours. And they’re a military state, no?”
This time Darius spoke up. “They are indeed a military country, though each province acts a bit differently, in accordance with their legate. Though that may change with King Randolph in charge.”
“Things have indeed changed,” Alejandra agreed. “In addition to hiring wastelanders to fight for them, they’ve stopped taking a census. I believe the reasons for this are twofold. One, and I believe this is more so the case, King Xander is dead. The census was his way of collecting his subjects’ blood in the hopes of finding a key to open the Grand Vault. Secondly, Randolph does not wish for us to know how many people we are up against—something the Miners Guild once ascertained without trouble. Our latest estimates place the country’s population at fifty thousand.”
“Fifty thousand?” Geon bellowed. “Spirits take us now. How many do we have—ten thousand? Their Rhion alone likely outnumber our entire population two-to-one!”
Darius shook his head. “Some of those fifty thousand are on our side. It includes defected Rhion as well as the refugees pouring in. They’re far less stable than they used to be.”
“We have guild members far to the north as well,” Bjorn said. “Many of the people Alphonse recruited before Ænæria’s rise are located in Bacchuso. We have a base on an otherwise deserted island that their young legate—the king’s own nephew—doesn’t even know exists. We can take back the province at a moment’s notice.”
“Retaking the province for ourselves will prove invaluable,” Alejandra agreed. “But we must do it at the right time.”
“When would that be?” Geon asked. “What are we waiting for?”
“I may be inclined to agree with Geon,” Rose said. “Like Kristos already said, they attacked Freztad, killing and kidnapping our people. War was declared moons ago.”
The Grand Elder scoffed. “I have tolerated your presence at the Summit in your mother’s absence, but we never dealt with such a crisis. I do not think we should be making decisions based on the orders of a girl.”
Alejandra moved, ready to challenge the Grand Elder, but not before Rose could beat her to it.
“Grand Elder, I know your culture prefers the decisions be made by the patriarchs of the village. I also know it must have been difficult for you to accept my mother’s role as leader when the Alliance was formed. I, therefore, thank you for accepting my presence at the Allied Summits over the past three years because I know it must have been extraordinarily difficult for one so wise as yourself to deal with a child.”
The Grand Elder stroked his long beard and nodded slowly. “I accept your apology, child. Perhaps when you are older and—”
“You misunderstand me, Grand Elder. I was not apologizing, nor am I a child. I was thirteen when I first took this seat and was indeed young and inexperienced. But in three weeks I will be sixteen, and in these sixteen years, I will have experienced more of the world than you have in all your lifetimes resting safely on Vänalleato’s peak. I understand our enemy more than any of the other village leaders. I never asked to be the leader of the Alliance. I took it upon myself because it was my duty. I can think of only one other person who is more fit to lead our people, and he is far away preparing for our other enemy. Our real enemy.”
The Grand Elder opened his mouth, but Rose was not yet finished.
“Since my cousin is not here to lead us, I have elected to maintain my position at the Summit. I have earned my place here just as the others have. The fact that I’m a woman has nothing to do with it, for look around, Grand Elder. You’re surrounded by women whose influence you will need to keep Vänalleato safe. None of the other men have spoken against this, so can we move past it and get to what’s important?”
The Grand Elder’s eyes were wide, his face pale. He seemed to look anywhere but in Rose’s direction. Good, she thought. I have made him uncomfortable. The other’s will now be more inclined to listen.
Making hard decisions had become second nature since she had taken her mother’s place in the Penteric Alliance. The Grand Elder was not wrong, of course. Not about having never dealt with such a crisis. That was something she could not have learned with their petty concerns over the past few years. No, she really learned how to lead when she was with Julius. He taught her two things about leadership: how to lead, and how to not. Nearly two moons with him taught Rose more than three years in Freztad ever could.
Thalia and Morgiana chuckled. Even Darius and Geon seemed to crack smiles from their stony expressions.
“Well spoken, Chief,” Thalia said to Rose. “We are honor-bound to heed the advice of Freztad’s leader, whoever it may be.”
Jarl Geon squinted. “Hmm. Her words of war are accurate, but her faith in that cousin of hers may be misplaced. Where is the boy?”
Kristos raced to defend Ben. “He’s training at the Vault instead of sweating his butt off here in the middle of summer.”
“How do we know we can trust him?” the Grand Elder asked. “Has anyone else even been inside the Vault?”
No one spoke. They sat stiffly in their chairs, sipping tea and helping themselves to the remaining pastries. Rose could tell they were all thinking the same thing. If the Grand Elder hadn’t brought it up, surely one of the others would.
Rose knew Ben was sensitive about allowing anyone else in the Vault. She was the only one in the hall to have been within its doors, though she remembered very little of it. She would forget all the memories of that day if she could. Ben had assured her that no one was ready to go inside. She trusted him, but Ben didn’t need to worry about her. He needed to worry about the others. It was only a ma
tter of time until they got impatient with him.
“What does it matter if no one has been in the Vault?” Darius asked, breaking the tense silence. “Ben has given us no reason to mistrust him. He carries out the shipments of seeds on schedule. What’s more, we know they work. Sheika Thalia has said as much, and we’ve just eaten proof of it.”
The others muttered among themselves. Thalia, Alejandra, and Bjorn nodded in agreement with Darius while Kristos leaned back in his chair with a smirk. The Grand Elder’s skepticism did not surprise her, nor did it concern her. It was Geon and Morgiana who worried Rose. Geon had the greatest numbers and resources for the Alliance, and Thalia was likely to back up Morgiana’s decision. Though he would make his protestations known, the Grand Elder would eventually side with the majority.
Geon clapped his hands together. “You were once one of these Rhion, no? How would you proceed with this decision of war?”
Darius squinted, narrowing his brow. “That’s not my decision to make, Jarl. That’s up to you five.”
“Well, then what are we waiting for?” Thalia asked. “We’ve waited for war in the interest of establishing our food stores throughout the scorching summer. Now we’ve suspicion of internal chaos among the enemy. We could use that against them.”
Bjorn shook his head vigorously. “We can’t just blindly retaliate and march for Ignistad, hope the sentinels are still even there—and alive for that matter—and then hope the war is over just like that.”
Rose sighed under her breath. If only it were that simple. This has become more than just about saving two of my people. We have to ensure none of this happens again.
The Heir of Ænæria Page 4
