“Thank you. I shall see him off. Would you mind waiting here, Orestes, and being my ears in the room?” The two locked eyes for a full breath – Jaiden still had trouble reading the experienced man-at-arms – before Orestes blinked and nodded.
“Of course, Sir. I will await your return.”
Jaiden patted his lieutenant’s shoulder, then took purposeful strides toward the front hall, struck by how precisely the architecture of the palace matched that of his dreams of Palomar. Servants swung the heavy doors open at his approach.
“Are you sure you have to leave?” Jaiden teased from the top step of the palace entryway. Given the number of times he genuinely wished Baron Rogan would mysteriously disappear, he was not immune to the irony entwined with asking him to stay. Things had changed in the past few weeks since Naresgreen, however, and with all the uncharted territory ahead, he found himself desiring to hold onto as much of the familiar as possible.
“We do,” Rogan responded, wrapping his arm around Dhania’s waist. “You may have vanquished Ebon Khorel, but Chelpa still needs helping. That is where I belong, and I am going to start by trying to find my son.”
Saffron approached from the paved path, leading a train of three horses.
“Don’t tell me you are deserting as well, Lady?” Jaiden took an impromptu step down before regaining control and halting. He knew this day would come, and his fidelity to Criesha demanded he let her go.
“It is time,” she said, a tranquil smile creeping to her face. “I have sent a letter to our parents, long overdue, though they will not be pleased to hear neither of their daughters are returning soon.”
“And where will you go?” Jaiden asked. “Are you riding to Chelpa as well?” He could not help the pang of jealousy that struck as he imagined himself in Rogan’s place.
Saffron shook her head. “I will ride with them as far as Talon Barge, but from there I head west. Willem the Shaper told me of a man in Ifelian who might help me develop my gift further, now that Palomar is gone.”
Mention of the Aasimar struck Jaiden with a too-fresh reminder of loss, and a numbness spread through his heart.
She continued, “He also said stories had reached him of innocents being taken for slave-labor in the mines near there, and I intend to look into them as well.”
Suddenly, a forgotten thought resurfaced, and Jaiden skipped down the steps past Rogan and Dhania while reaching behind his neck to unfasten the clasp of his gold chain. “I meant to bestow this upon you with more ceremony,” he said as he reached Saffron, “but if you are leaving, I suppose a lack of fanfare will have to do.” He extended the pendant of Living Fire toward her, its flashing crimson a stark contrast to the summer-blue sky.
Saffron’s eyes and mouth formed wide circles. “Jaiden—”
“May I?” He stepped closer, lifting the chain a bit higher.
Without another word, Saffron turned her back as she grasped her ponytail to clear it from her shoulders. With a little awkwardness, he reached the pendant around to rest on her chest and fastened the clasp behind her, letting his hands dwell a moment on the exposed, sepia skin of her neck.
She faced him again while looking down at the jewel. “I don’t know what to say; are you sure you want to give this away? To me?”
“It’s magical, or so Ellingle tells me. I figure it should belong to someone who is magical as well. I would not be alive without you. And don’t worry,” he added, “she’s assured me that whatever enchantments the King-priest placed upon it vanished with his death.”
Saffron looked directly into Jaiden’s eyes. “Thank you.” She smiled and shook her head slowly. “I can hardly believe how far you have come, Grandmaster Luminere.”
Jaiden felt his face flush and looked down at his feet. “I know. The Order’s behind me, though. Orestes has been great – his support made sure the factions remained united. The remaining Dukes seem serious about formalizing an alliance as well.”
“Wonderful news. Are you going to remain in the palace?” she asked.
He nodded. “It looks that way. The people accept me, and Criesha gains more followers every day.”
“Congratulations, Jaiden,” Baron Rogan said, clasping his shoulder before climbing down the rest of the steps. Dhania followed and they sorted out the reins of their horses. “It will be nice to know you are here if my country needs your help.”
“Of course,” Jaiden replied. “You are all welcome any time, and will have my aid as long as I am able to give it.”
Saffron hugged him, but did not linger in her embrace as long as he would have liked. The three foreigners mounted their horses and waved goodbye, before turning toward the long, downward slope of the Eighth Hill. Jaiden sighed. He realized an ending when he saw one, but that didn’t make it any easier to let go.
Epilogue
I zefet looked over the foothills of the Fire-Wall Mountains from his high perch outside the remote Cave of the Crossroads. Treacherous cliffs descended to a dizzying depth below. He wondered how his human father ever found the foreboding location in the first place.
Illicurus suddenly popped into view, rising above the edge of the outcropping. His strong wings flapped furiously as he gained altitude, finally coming to rest as his feet met solid rock. The half-demon waited for the Marshal of the Aasimar to fold his feathery extremities before communicating. The mere presence of the celestial made his skin itch.
“Did you meet with success?” Izefet asked, projecting a calm that came from taking the long-view.
Illicurus sounded much more agitated. “The King-priest has fallen – it is confirmed.”
Izefet nodded. “And the Living Fire?”
“Unaccounted for. My guess is the whelp took it.”
“I thought being an Aasimar meant you did not have to guess – you can feel the pull of it.”
Illicurus crossed his arms. “That is true, demonspawn. Though the range is not unlimited. We will just have to get closer to pick up the trail.”
“Tsk, tsk. No need to get testy, Marshal. We will need more than was in that pendant, though every bit helps. I would think an immortal would show more patience.”
The Aasimar’s feathers bristled. “I am done serving the needs of lower creatures. Do not make me regret our alliance. If you cannot follow through on your promises—”
Izefet shot him a look that could melt steel. “Be very careful with threats, Illicurus. We are not on Mount Celestia, and I should not have to remind you who my mother is. Bring me the Living Fire, and I will bring so much chaos to this realm its people will beg to serve you in return for stability.”
Illicurus stared at him silently, sizing him up. The Aasimar was taller and more physically imposing, but Izefet could taste the uncertainty in his gaze. No matter what scheming led to the celestial’s banishment, he could not fathom the underhanded depths that served as daily fare in the Abyss.
Finally, Illicurus uncrossed his arms and took a few, tentative steps toward the cave entrance. “Is there really a Planar Gate inside?”
“There is. But you know it is closed to you. Creatures from our planes must be properly summoned. My human blood grants me an exception, of course. Are you eager to return to your homeland?” Izefet moved to the edge of the cliff and looked down. “That could be arranged quite easily.”
“And fall back under the thumb of Hiruth Jeshu?” The Aasimar scoffed. “I think not.” He looked around the mountainside and threw his arms up to the open air. “This is my realm now, and I mean to rule it.”
“All in due time,” Izefet practically whispered his thoughts. “First, I shall spread the Name of the Beast.”
PHILLIP M. LOCEY
Phillip studied Creative Writing at the University of
North Carolina at Chapel Hill and earned a Master’s
in Library and Information Science from the
University of South Florida.
Weaned on the fantasy genre from a young age, he
spent decad
es creating the imagined world of Elisahd,
where the majority of his tales are now set.
Visit elisahdbooks.com for more stories,
artwork, and news about books to come!
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