by Sara Kincaid
Rina nodded and crouched down beside her, wiping blood on her pants before touching her sister’s arm. “He did. Praise Nia.” Rina squeezed her eyes tightly, thanking the big man for protecting her sister.
Halay clutched Rina to her chest. Between her tears, she asked, “What now?”
Rina held her sister at arm’s length. Halay’s round face was flushed and her narrow shoulders sagging. “We keep going.”
Eldon and Jarem sheathed their weapons. “How will we find our way, NightWind?” Eldon pressed his fist to his chest in salute.
Rina straightened, brushing any stray tears from her eyes as she faced her faithful soldiers who had followed her, defying the orders of their commander. “We have to continue on. For Regent Arayna and all of Burga. We know from Zhara how to find the brotherhood. From there, we’ll figure it out.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Halay
The travelers paused long enough to offer their friend and guide a proper burial. They gathered stones and piled them over the body, finally leaving Bransen’s beloved pipe tucked in the nook of a pile of stones. Halay laid her hand on one of the small boulders that protected their fallen comrade from the elements and scavengers, the sun warming its surface from high overhead. “Regent Arayna will be sad to learn of this.”
Rina nodded solemnly. “As will Zhara. We will inform them properly once we return home.” She glanced at her fellow Aviators and her sister. “Bransen made a brave sacrifice for us. I owe him a great debt.” Drawing her right fist to her chest, Rina saluted the man who had saved her sister’s life. Jarem and Eldon echoed her gesture before turning away and heading to the river and the mountains that loomed to their north.
Halay bowed her head for a moment, her hand buried in the thick mane of the silvery horse left behind by the Kaldarian troops. Her respects paid, she patted the animal gently before swinging up into the saddle. She’d offered the horse to the Aviators, but none of them were interested in riding the beast, more content to have their feet on the ground than wrestle an animal with a mind of its own. Halay shook her head. They rode the wind, a being over which they had no control and yet they couldn’t be persuaded to manage an animal with a brain and a bridle.
The horse was magnificent and sitting astride his silvery back, Halay felt like the Regent herself. For a war-trained mount, the horse was surprisingly tame and calm. Halay had removed the bit from the horse’s mouth after finding the animal’s gums and tongue swollen from the harsh barbs the Kaldarian had used to direct the beast. Instead, she guided the animal gently with her knees and the horse responded easily to her soft commands.
While Rina and Eldon kept their distance from the animal, Jarem walked beside Halay, his hand resting comfortably on the horse’s flank. The river burbled beside them, traveling back down the grassy plain away from the mountains. Halay was aware of the Aviator walking beside her, but she kept her eyes trained on the path ahead of them and her thoughts on the fluid gait of the horse beneath her.
“You saved my life today,” Jarem said quietly into the breeze before glancing up at her. Halay sat with her back straight, her thighs clamped around the horse’s middle, rolling with his movements like an expert. The horse’s ears twitched and his tail slapped at a lazy fly. “Thank you.”
Halay shifted in the saddle and smiled with pleasure through her sorrow, a tinge of pink coming to her cheeks. With the warmer weather, she’d traded in her fur-trimmed tunic for a lighter and airier cotton the color of wheat that she’d carried in her pack. The tunic was tucked into her dark leather pants and she wore Rina’s bow over her shoulder. “You’re welcome.” If their parents could see her now, what would they think?
“Will you be a warrior like your brother and sister?”
Halay shook her head. “No. I have no desire to become a soldier, though I admire both my brother and sister greatly. I am happiest caring for animals. When I complete my apprenticeship, I will take over the goat farms for my master teacher.”
“Do you get lonely out in the fields?”
Halay bit her lip and brushed stray hairs from her face as a light breeze tickled them. “No. I enjoy the work and the beauty of the mountains is spectacular. I always see something new, even as we walk familiar paths for grazing.”
“It sounds like a nice, quiet life,” Jarem agreed.
“Would you like a quiet life?” Halay was skeptical. Jarem was full of passion and anger, strong emotions that needed something to occupy them. While the goats and the mountains offered solace, they weren’t good for brash tempers. Mistakes could be deadly out in the fields, for the animals and their caretakers.
Jarem paused, considering. Sunlight tickled his scruffy beard and he carried his uniform jacket over his shoulder beneath the warm afternoon sun. “I rather think I would.”
“Could you give up all of this? The fighting? The flying?”
“Flying could be a useful skill for a sheep herder, couldn’t it?” He smiled up at her and watched with pleasure as a smile bloomed slowly on her face.
“I think it could, actually.”
The horse nickered softly. “Well it’s settled then.”
Halay paused. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll be a sheep farmer when I retire from the Aviators.” He beamed.
Halay relaxed, but was left with a feeling of bemusement. She liked this soldier, in spite of herself. She knew a soldier’s life was transient and nothing was guaranteed. An unlucky turn could see them killed or captured. A sour wind could see an Aviator dashed upon the ground or lost forever, like her brother.
As the mountains drew nearer, the trees thickened. The wispy bamboo stalks faded, replaced by stark chestnut trunks. Shadows lengthened as leaves spread wide like hands reaching for the sun. The horse pawed at the green foliage, his steps muffled by moss and thick grass.
Rina drew the knife from her left boot and held it casually. “Just in case,” she whispered into the thick silence. Following on her heels, Jarem and Eldon drew their own knives, strapping the long swords to their belts.
They all strained their ears, but could hear nothing over the growing voice of the river on their left as it quickened.
“I don’t think any more Kaldarians are going to come after us for a while,” Eldon whispered. “We dispatched all of that last band. It’ll be a while before they realize that their group isn’t coming back.”
“You’re probably right. But it’s not the Kaldarians I’m worried about right now. We don’t know what we’re getting ourselves into. Who knows what lurks in these woods and how far we have to go until we get to the brotherhood.”
“Afraid of finding a fire-breathing snow lion out here on the plains, Rina?” Halay raised a wry eyebrow at her sister, hoping to ease the tension. Now was hardly the time for jokes.
Rina grinned in spite of the situation. They were both thinking of the stories their mother told when they were younger. “No. But perhaps a cousin.”
As the sun sank, shadows multiplied until darkness settled over them in the heavy heat. They stepped off the main path and built a campsite by the river. “At least one side is protected,” Eldon grumbled as he unstrapped the sword from his belt and sat down beside their small fire. His leg was mending, though it clearly still gave him trouble as he moved.
Halay had dug a small pit to protect the flames from sight and Rina fed them with dry twigs. They had no need of warmth, but the little light gave them some comfort as the thick forest shadows closed in on them.
Without their knowledgeable guide, they all felt particularly vulnerable. “We’ll watch in pairs tonight,” Rina informed them as she removed a crumbled biscuit from her new stash of supplies given to her by Zhara. The expat Burgan had refilled their packs before bidding them goodbye and wishing them luck on their journey.
Halay wondered if the news of Solon’s death and the rise of Arayna would e
ntice Zhara back to the city. Her presence was no longer a threat to succession and she supposed that Arayna would like to have her aunt by her side.
Rina and Jarem bedded down after a brief meal, leaving Eldon and Halay up on watch. Halay tended the fire, careful to keep the flames low. Rina’s bow lay across her lap and a few arrows were set, point first in the ground.
As the night crept onward, Halay felt her eyes grow heavy and she yawned quietly. “Nothing like a long night’s watch, is there?” Eldon quipped. His lips curled up in a friendly smile.
“Will FireStorm really kick you out of the Aviators when you get back?”
The question surprised the veteran Aviator and he let out a surprised laugh. The sound echoed in the silence that surrounds them. “He might try. But if we bring the Mystics back, he won’t have a case. Plus, the Regent herself sent us on this mission and the military reports to her. The worst thing that would happen is we’d be reprimanded for disobeying orders. But,” he shrugged, “It’s FireStorm. He’s unpredictable.” He unscrewed the lid of his canteen and took a long swig of water.
“Does that make him a good leader?”
“He’s a great tactitian. He was actually third in command when your brother ran things.”
Halay raised her eyebrows. “Third? And he and Niko were very close, even so.” She pursed her lips in thought.
“Aye.”
“And yet he and Rina.” Halay let her voice fade.
“Never made much sense to me. But love and youth have a funny way of mixing. She figured things out though. Left him for a Mystic.” Laughter purred in his throat again. “He never saw that one coming, I’d wager.” Eldon grew quiet for a moment and scratched his stubbled chin. “I’m impressed by you.”
Halay ducked her head, embarrassed. “Me? Why?”
“You and your sister both. It must be in your blood. You’ve taken on a new set of circumstances and made them your own, conquered them.”
“Rina had no choice.”
“They knew she’d make a great warrior.”
“Maybe. But she’d already decided on her career. They didn’t care about the life she had built or what Miyabi had invested in her.” Halay rubbed the calluses on her palms. She should be off in the mountains with the herds, watching over the new kids born that spring. Instead she was here, though here she had found Jarem. She smiled in spite of herself.
“I trust we’re not all bad,” Eldon asked knowingly and Halay tried to hide her surprise at how he had guessed her train of thought.
“No. Not all bad,” she agreed.
At midday, the thick forests met the base of the mountains and Rina sighted the path that led between the feet of each great mass of rock. Winds tumbled down the mountain like boulders, rocking the trees until they groaned against their roots, both wanting to be set free and fearful of what losing their foundation might mean. The strange flat land between the mountains bore an empty pathway where trees had been ripped away by the cantankerous winds.
Halay tied a thick swath of fabric around her head to protect her ears. Eldon’s laugh was swallowed by the fierce wind. “It’s like jumping off of Mt. Yama!” He spread his arms wide and closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of the wind buffeting against his body.
It’d been many days since he’d last flown and Halay expected that all three of them were feeling the loss of flight keenly. The silvery horse whinnied and swished his tail. She tightened her grip on his mane in case he spooked. “Should we wait it out?” Halay shouted, but her voice was blotted out by the roar of the wind.
“It won’t stop. Remember?” Jarem raked his hand through his bangs, clearing his vision.
Rina ducked low, her legs straining to move forward against the incessant wind. Leaves and other loose brush swatted against her face and arms.
Slowly they made their way through the wind tunnel and Halay wondered why the wind always behaved oddly around these mountains. As a child, she’d always thought it was some strange characteristic of Mt. Yama or had something to do with the Mystics living on the mountain. Then again, perhaps the winds were protecting the Brotherhood of the Spark who lived just past the mountain chain on the other half of Rosson. Given the secrecy of the Council of Peace, it would make sense that the Brotherhood hid themselves in a highly inaccessible place. At least this wind was silent. Halay had never heard the wind herself. But her sister had frequently told her about the whistling words in her ear.
Slowly, as they crossed the boundary into the other half of Rosson, the winds began to die down. On the other side, the narrow passageway opened up to a wide plain. Trees dotted the landscape and curling bamboo stalks rose like fence posts in scattered patterns around them.
It was eerily silent. No birds called and no animals rulsted in the brush. The land now appeared perfectly still and seemed to be frozen like glass. Even the grass beneath their feet felt different. Gone was the springy moss, replaced by a stiff brown grass that appeared to be dead. Halay glanced around, trying to pinpoint the strange feeling she had.
“It’s like everything’s gone. How is that? There’s no place in Mantinea like this except,” Jarem paused, considering. “Except the Habibi Gulf.”
“The gulf? When have you been to the gulf?” Eldon’s voice was incredulous. Not many people from Burga had ever been that far north. Those who had were either emissaries to Delos or traders.
“I haven’t. But my brother did. Nothing grows there and nothing has since the war. There’s something strange about the land there. My brother talked about how it felt, like life had just been switched off.” He shrugged. “That’s how this feels to me.”
They followed the base of the mountain as Zhara had instructed. Eventually, they crossed into a different space and the strange feeling of nothingness left them. They all felt it, like an electric current as it flowed through them once again. “Strange,” Eldon muttered to himself.
Halay was inclined to agree. Up ahead, Rina’s determined tread stopped short. In the distance, they spotted a large structure built of ancient stone and framed with the dark ebony wood found on Mt. Yama. “So it’s true,” Rina whispered. The brotherhood did exist.
Chapter Twenty-two
Thea Winter
The thrill of calling the silver spark to her hands had left Thea long ago. Now, the creation of something from nothing was little more than a daily task, the excitement of her power seeping away as the last of her fellow Kaldarian Mystics, Cassus, faded into the ether.
The silver orb floated above Thea’s hand and she blew on it softly, sending sparks around the room, lighting all of the dimmed sconces instantly. Excessive use of the spark was strictly forbidden in Kaldar. But since she was the one wielding it and there was no one left to punish her, Thea did as she pleased.
Her room was buried deep in the heart of the mountain and she was boxed in on all sides by thick stone. Originally, the Mystics had been housed on an upper floor with plenty of light and airy windows. But as their numbers dwindled, Regent Opher buried her in the depths of his castle like a treasure locked away for safekeeping.
With difficulty, Thea loosened the stays of her corset, finally wriggling out of her clothes with a sigh and tossing the soiled linens over the back of a chair. The silk would crease, but she had little care for such things now. The Burgans would never help them, not after being kidnapped from their precious mountain and the loss of so many soldiers. Thea had nearly laughed aloud when old Moriyo had refused to assist them and the faces of the other Mystics grew grim and resolved against them. Using the remainder of their powers to send an army across the gulf was not even under consideration. Not to mention that the Kaldarian army had murdered Eli’s beloved. Idiots the lot of them. And yet she would bear the brunt of Opher’s wrath.
“How do you plan on getting your army there,” the old one had asked. But Opher had done more than just ignored the ruling against
his request of the Council of Peace. He refused to answer the old man’s questions until he had their agreement. He’d built something that had not been seen in Mantinea in more than a century.
The only thing that had kept Thea’s mouth shut was fear. She paused, half-naked in the flickering silver lights, and gazed at herself in the liquid silver looking glass by her dressing table. Harsh red brands and bruises dotted her round shoulders and arms, evidence of the Regent’s anger and deteriorating mental state. “Bastard,” she muttered, fingering the latest bruise, a gift from him as they’d met in his private quarters after the Burgans had left the room.
“You must fix this,” the Regent had implored her earnestly, his large hands digging into her shoulder and his eyes wild. Layers of his red and black hair came loose from the thick pomade he’d used to force it flat and it feathered around his features comically.
Thea pulled the pins from her gray hair and the heavy locks plunged down her back. She massaged her aching scalp and then tied a silky red robe around her plump figure. Regent Opher had once been kind, even though he had always been a bit of a warmonger. But since Livia, his wife, and Jade had taken ill, he’d quickly spun out of control.
The sun had risen long ago. But, deep in the heart of Bear Palace, it was impossible to know. Thea relied on her inner clock and the comings and goings of the palace guards and workers to keep track of time. Sometimes, full days would go by without a hint of sunlight.
Thea stretched delicately and took a deep breath before pulling the side stays on her corset tight about her figure. She’d opted for a silver corset and black undershirt over thin black pants and boots, letting her silver hair cascade down her back in a vast river.
