“He’s really my uncle?” Andromeda finally finds her words as she clutches her stomach looking slightly ill.
“Yes,” Carina nods in her daughter’s direction. “Ezra is my youngest sibling and my mother’s only son. He was only three years old when you were taken from me. Our mother died when Ezra was only thirteen and I raised him as my own until he reached adulthood.”
“Which is exactly why I wouldn’t have known her even if I was looking for the signs.” Ezra points out.
“Perhaps if you hadn’t spent your adolescence bedding Landborn whores, drinking, and gambling in the surface kingdoms my daughter would have been returned to me sooner.” Carina retorts.
“Midge is not a whore.” Andromeda exclaims, staring her queen mother down in a way no one else would dare to.
The look Queen Carina gives her eldest daughter is cold enough to freeze all the water in the sea but Andromeda clenches her jaw and raises her chin defiantly.
Loosing a frustrated breath Queen Carina turns back to Prince Ezra and resumes their argument as if Andromeda’s outcry had never occurred.
Daegan wishes he could sneak out of the throne room unnoticed but he can’t leave his charge behind and one look at Andromeda tells him that she needs him for support even if she would never admit it. Together they watch the Queen and the prince volley back and forth. The guards at the door remain expressionless, the princesses look like they wish they could flee to their chambers, and Ajax merely pats his wife’s shoulder as he tunes out the argument.
“Enough!” Prince Ezra finally shouts. “I did not come here to argue about ancient history.”
“Then why did you come, dearest brother?” Queen Carina croons sweetly.
“I need your help,” Prince Ezra speaks like the words pain him greatly. “I need the help of the Perscesian army.”
“For what?” Carina sounds bored by her brother’s request.
“The Vacantian queen, my wife’s estranged mother, has captured my wife and her father.” Ezra is quickly cut off by Queen Carina. In the back of the room nobody notices Andromeda’s gasp or the tears that spring to her eyes. Daegan steps closer and places his hand on the princess’s shoulder comfortingly. Reaching up she captures his hand and clings to it as if it were the only thing anchoring her to the physical plane.
“Why should I care?” Carina asks.
“You wouldn’t,” Ezra retorts bitterly. “Nay, it is more than that. At the Queen’s behest a rogue troupe of men and women have burned coastal villages from the southern tip of Vacantia to the walled-in capital city. Hundreds of men, women, and children are dead under Lyra’s orders to kill all suspected Perscesians and their families on the spot. What’s more is that of those dead, perhaps only two or three were actually Perscesian. I’m talking about innocent lives here Carina! Innocent babies and toddlers, like Andromeda once was; like your other daughters once were! And she will not stop at the coast, you know that as well as I do. She will send boats to the seas filled with warriors to hunt and kill every Perscesian they can find. Your subjects. Your friends and courtiers and the people Faeta has charged our family to protect since the beginning of time. I’m not asking you to help me. I’m asking you to defend your people and launch a preventive strike against Lyra.”
Daegan’s chest seizes at the thought of the dead men and women of the coast. The villages were nothing to look at, just filth and squalor but it was all as his spying in Vanyia had predicted. A genocide to weed out anyone who would complicate the rule of the usurper queen. It surprised him that she had not executed King Pavo’s son, but as he thought on it Daegan realized nobody had heard word of Prince Cygni since his exile.
Queen Carina leans forward now on her throne. Her fingers are steepled as she bites the nail of her right middle finger and absorbs Prince Ezra’s words. Despite her animosity with her estranged brother, he speaks true. The kingdom is in danger and Queen Lyra will not stop until she wipes out the entire Perscesian population and anyone else that would challenge her rule.
“I will think things over,” Carina says finally. Her tone has been stripped of all bite. “I will confer with my small council and decide what our best course of action should be.”
“Thank you,” Prince Ezra sighs in relief. “That is all that I ask.”
Queen Carina nods curtly and gestures to one of the guards at the door. “Show the prince to his quarters.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard bows and escorts Prince Ezra from the throne room.
Ezra pauses in the doorway and turns back to his sister, the set of his mouth firm, “One more thing. I want to see my son. Now.”
“Very well,” Carina waves him off as she rubs her forehead with her right hand. “Take Prince Ezra to the nursery.”
The guard nods his understanding and he and Prince Ezra slip from the room. The door snicks shut quietly behind them.
Andromeda stands so abruptly it startles Daegan. “Even if you won’t help Ezra, I will.”
Without waiting for her mother’s response, Andromeda charges after Ezra. Daegan, left with no other choice, bows quickly to the royal family and hurries to catch up to his charge.
Chapter 17
Shroudania
King Alem of Shroudania stood atop the battlements of his glittering palace watching the calm sea below. It had been two generations since the last Mistborn had set foot on Shroudanian soil. It always puzzled him as to why the sea scum instead chose to plague the Vacantians across the mighty sea. Perhaps it was the dampness of the climate that reminded them of their home beneath the glassy surface of the water.
“Your Majesty,” Alem’s high advisor Daveen appeared at his elbow and cleared his phlegmy throat to draw Alem’s attention. “A raven has just arrived from across the sea with a missive from Queen Lyra of Vacantia.”
“Thank you, Daveen.” Alem takes the sealed scroll from his advisor and runs his fingernail beneath the wax to break the seal.
Daveen waits at his side, hands palm down on the battlement and eyes scanning the horizon as he gives his king time to scan the contents.
“It appears our ally across the sea is gathering her army to strike against the Mistborn once and for all.” Alem relays as he runs his index finger beneath the line of Lyra’s sloping script. “She blames them for the death of her beloved husband and wants revenge.”
“What does that have to do with Shroudania, My King?” Daveen asks though he suspects he already knows.
“Don’t be daft my friend,” Alem folds the missive and hands it back to his advisor. “The Shroudanian army is more than twice that of the Vacantian army and with thrice the ships in our armada, our men are much more adept on the sea than their Vacantian counterparts. Pavo was a great ally of this kingdom and he will be greatly missed. We will aid our friends in any way that we can.”
“As you wish, My King.” Daveen bows to Alem. “I will dispense the orders.”
“Tell the commander of the fleet to have a third of the army ready.” Alem nods to himself. “We sail in two days’ time.”
“We, My King?” Daveen questions. “Surely you can’t mean to go yourself.”
“Exactly so,” Alem nods. “I will lead half our ships to Vanyia and the others will aid our Vacantian brethren in hunting and killing the Mistborn lurking too close to the surface. War is coming Daveen, and I swear to be in the trenches so that someday, when the sagas are written it is my name and my ruthlessness that everyone will remember.”
❖
Cygni
General Cruelseas, or Thane, as he insisted that Cygni call him had transformed the second level of the stone armory into Cygni’s war room and base of operations.
The main floor where weapons were stored and repaired as well as the forging workshop next to the building had been ransacked and heavily damaged during the rebellion but the second floor had an exterior entrance door made of Shroudanian steel that was only accessible by using a special five-pronged key forged for General Cruelseas by th
e armorer apprentice, a wild looking boy named Rian.
Cygni’s first task had been naming his small council of advisors. As High Seneschal, Cygni appointed Thane’s companion and Rolfe’s friend, a man named Lester. Lester was the true leader of The Order of the Thorn after Cygni’s father and though Cygni found him quiet and impersonal, he could sense that the man was wise and more than apt for the position. Another senior member of the Order of the Thorn named Hugo was appointed the Master of Inter-Kingdom affairs. He was a pleasant looking man who wore his long gray hair in twin braids and, according to Rolfe, got on well with anyone he met. Thane became his Master-in-Arms, in charge of Cygni’s armies while Rolfe was appointed Cygni’s Master of Treasury and once Cygni regained his throne he would be in charge of the kingdom’s finances.
For his Royal Guard, Cygni chose the best of the Watierai Warrior’s men; Thane Cruelseas, Thane’s second-in-command Cutter Longbone, a cruel looking young man named Castor Luxworth, and Rolfe’s associate Elliyot would all be senior officers that would command nine men each beneath them.
Cygni spent his mornings in meetings with both his small council and his royal guard discussing strategy and listening to word that trickled in from the Order’s spies all throughout Vacantia.
Word from the mountains reported that the people of the nine mountain villages swaddled in the valleys between the twelve mountain peaks comprising the Skinwalker Mountains ridging the middle of Vacantia like a spiked spine were prisoners in their villages. Waterborn witches who turned their backs on their Order of the Thorn ancestry and made sacrifices to the trinity of dark goddesses - Adraystya, the goddess of revenge, Esteryia, the goddess of murder, and Treevya, the goddess of nightmares — came out from their caves and crevices and lit bonfires each night that birthed terrors and monsters into being. Monsters that edged their way into the villages and dragged people from their beds and frightened others to their deaths by showing them their worst fears. These terrors made the mountain people mad with fear and caused them to commit unspeakable acts.
“We need help from the other kingdoms,” Cygni taps his index finger in the middle of the map of Esternwhorl weighted down onto the tabletop before him. It’s early still and his head is already throbbing from the constant hammering as the Warriors rebuild their camp beyond the windows of the war room.
“You should reach out to your mother’s family in Lostero,” Lester tilts his head toward the smaller island to the South. “While Shroudania and Vacantia has stripped the kingdom of much of its power, word has reached the Order of underground factions led by their misplaced King, your grandfather. They would be a great asset.”
“Tell me again,” Cygni asks as he scratches the ears of his feline companion who lays beside him with his head on his lap. Cygni’s eyes scan Vacantia from the northernmost tip to the southernmost, “How many men do we have allied with us from the Order and the Warriors?”
“Between the three kingdoms, we have two thousand soldiers, mercenaries, and spies loyal to the Order of the Thorn.” Lester reports.
“Our numbers took a slight hit during the rebellion,” Thane admits as he frowns and glances out the window. “We stand at seven hundred strong.”
“Against the Royal Vacantian Army and the Waterborn witches?” Cygni sputters. “We need more. So many more. What about the Shroudanians?”
“I would tread lightly there, Your Majesty.” Hugo advises. “Our spies tell us that King Alem of Shroudania has been exchanging letters and sending aid to the usurper queen. Still, we will write to our spies and see how many Shroudanian soldiers we can sway to our side.”
“Very well,” Cygni nods. “Speak to your spies and I will write to my grandfather. Is there anyone else we can sway to our side?”
“There might be someone,” Thane scratches the back of his neck nervously. “One of our best Warriors told me a seemingly impossible story about where she came from. She claimed she was from a people who called themselves Starborn. According to her they originated from the goddess of the stars and sky, Adventrya and possessed powerful magic. Octavia, that’s my Warrior’s name, offered to ask them to aid us but I turned her down. She disobeyed me and chose to search them out anyway.”
“Octavia is Starborn?” Lester sounds startled and it disturbs Cygni that a man like Lester should be shook up by anything. “Ah now I see it, how did I miss that? Still, how could you not share this with us earlier?”
“I don’t know,” Thane looks flustered. “I didn’t believe her. I thought she had hit her head during the rebellion and was imagining things.”
“The Starborn are the most secretive and reclusive of the four races of Esternwhorlians. Most people have never heard of them and thus will never learn of the things they have to offer. Starborn are celestial beings who live in a palace in the sky, far above this plane of existence. They are a female only race, who have affinities for electrical currents found in lightning, water, and air. They have the only real magic in the five kingdoms.” Hugo intones from memory like he’s reciting something memorized from an oral history.
“Do you think this girl has a chance of swaying the Starborn to our side?” Cygni doesn’t dare allow himself to hope.
“Most likely,” Hugo nods slowly as he tugs at one of his braids. “Likely they’ve been waiting for this for decades, centuries even.”
“And how many do you estimate they could add to our numbers?”
“It’s hard to say,” Hugo frowns. “Five hundred years ago they had eight thousand in their aerial fleet and another ten thousand foot soldiers trained in their unique arts. I am unaware of their current numbers. I only know the stories my father passed on to me from his father before him.”
“Eighteen thousand strong,” Cygni breathes. “That would be a significant help in turning the tides in our favor.”
Thane again begins to speak then hesitates and clears his throat.
“What is it, General?” Cygni asks impatiently.
“What about the Mistborn, Your Majesty?” Thane asks.
“What about them?” Cygni questions.
“They could be formidable allies, Your Majesty.” Cutter answers for Thane. “When I was sparring with Andromeda the day her heritage was revealed I saw how naturally good she was with a blade in hand.”
“We’ve fought the Mistborn for years, as our brethren did for decades before us,” Thane adds. “They often don’t go down easy and nearly every time it takes five or six Warriors to take down one Mistborn.”
“I don’t know if that tells me that you are lousy Warriors or if the Mistborn are adept at avoiding capture.” Cygni replies sardonically.
“Believe me, Majesty, it is not the former.” Lester replies coldly.
Cygni stares at him for a minute, trying not to show how the older man intimidates him. “Of that I have no doubt, Lester. To be a Warrior and the leader of the Order tells me you are more than capable.”
“Even if we were to reach out to the Mistborn,” Castor Luxworth, the quietest of the council and guard, speaks slowly and thoughtfully, “how would we get word to them?”
Cygni rubs his chin as he ponders this, but none of his council can come up with a valid idea.
“All right, we shall shelve that idea for the moment and revisit it again.” Cygni announces finally. “Are there any other pressing matters to discuss?”
❖
Octavia
“Yes, Mother Goddess,” Octavia kneels at Adventrya’s sandaled feet. “I will do anything to prove myself worthy.”
“You will be tested during four trials,” Adventrya explains as she gestures for Octavia to rise and follow her down the corridor. The Three trail behind, close enough to protect the goddess but far enough away for privacy. “All Starborn women are born with the same latent talents, the trick is triggering their awakening. The four sacred trials will challenge you both emotionally and physically, they are not to be entered lightly. You will not know what skill the trial is testing you on, nor whether
you pass it or not. You will be thrust into a situation and you will have to trust your instincts and act in whatever way feels most natural. You will either jump into action, or you will fail, the choice is yours.”
“If I’m not to know what I’m being tested on,” Octavia grabs the goddess’s arm to stop her, “then how will I know what you are looking for?”
“The trials are not to predict what I wish to see from you, it is to see if you have what it takes to lead your Starborn sisters.” Adventrya replies and looks pointedly at Octavia’s hand on her forearm.
“I’m third-in-command of Vacantia’s famed Watierai Warriors,” Octavia points out, “shouldn’t that tell you about my potential leadership qualities?”
“What you excelled in among one force does not mean you will excel among your peers,” Adventrya explains as calmly as if they were deciding whether to have stew for dinner or not.
She continues to glide down the hall but when she notices Octavia is no longer striding beside her she stops and places her hands on her hips. “Really, child, it is nothing to worry on. The leader of the Starborn fleet must be strong and ruthless, a model for our fleet to look up to. You cannot be strong if you are afraid of failing. Now come along, your first trial begins now.”
This time Adventrya doesn’t wait for Octavia to catch up before she turns the corner and vanishes from sight. By the time Octavia reaches the bend in the hall Adventrya is nowhere in sight. A quick glance over her shoulder reveals that The Three have vanished as well. The white walls of the corridor seem to close in on Octavia, but she centers her breathing and tells herself it’s just an illusion brought on by nerves and her unfamiliarity with her surroundings.
Closing her eyes, Octavia takes in her surroundings. The sounds of girls sparring in the other corridor has ceased and the only other sound she hears is the distant dribbling of water. An inhale of air hints to Octavia that the water might be rain with its’ cool, fresh scent. Opening her eyes, Octavia takes a step forward unsure of where she is supposed to go or what she is supposed to do.
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