The towering Glaiddish placed Cassie on a canvass stretcher and tromped him out of the arena. A group of light-footed Kaipponese lowered more ropes into the pit where Usheon lay.
But his gaze fixed on the elderly Kings before him.
Everything about Gildas Brennte was big. A big grisly beard covered his big jowls, which made the lower half of his face look bigger than his forehead. Wheat-hair coursed down the back of his head in thick waves, mopping up his shoulders. The energy surrounding him was mighty as Estos River’s waterfalls—vaporous, blinding, and overwhelmingly powerful.
The shorter man to his right sat prim and erect on his black gelding. An over-jacket was layered over his crimson silk kimono, pattered with elaborate dragons. Viro Tazuga’s head was shaved, leaving only a clean goatee bordering his mouth. Unlike the Glaiddish King, who stank of thoroughfares, black pine scented his skin.
Jaime was too stunned to bow.
The slits of Emperor Viro’s black eyes passed over him, a dingy boy half-naked in his chiton, and landed on the hole.
An Imperial officer pulled a limping Usheon forward. Even with his broken leg, the Jaypan King held himself like a mountain.
The Emperor peered at the burn scar on his jaw. “You were a useless daimyo, and even more deplorable General, yet you try to be King?”
The whole arena seemed to quiver as the Fire Emperor spoke.
“Ah, I will tell you what you are. You are a peasant of Kaippon Kingdom. By Imperial law, I declare your life forfeit for desertion and the highest sacrilege. Chain him!”
I’m dreaming.
The Glaiddish King’s voice drummed the air.
“Usheon Ottega, unlawful ruler of Jaypes, is hereby under arrest—” The Jaypan soldiers dropped their weapons. “—for blaspheming the gods, for crimes against the Jaypan commonwealth—” His father vanished under the fray. “—and for the highest degree of contempt against our holy gods!”
As the skies crashed over Jaime, someone collided into him.
“Juno! You’re alive!”
Jaime bit his tongue. Pain blazed through his body. Eridene snapped at Toran to be gentle. But laughter broke through his throat, and Jaime hugged his best friend as his wounded leg gave way.
“You’re here,” he breathed. “You both came.”
Eridene looked away, tucking a loose strand back into her braid. “We felt awful about what happened. Toran and I decided if there was any Prince in you, you’d find a way to make it to the Colosseum. So we left the peaks to find you. That’s when we saw the Western forces in the distance and followed them here.”
“You knew they were coming?”
“Not at all. It was as much of a shock to us as anyone else.”
Toran whispered, “You should’ve seen her. She actually fainted when she saw a Brennte riding with a Tazuga.”
“What are you whispering about now?” she demanded.
Jaime peered between his best friends, his chest welling with warmth. To Toran, he said, “I’m sorry for what I said to you. Back at the Temple.”
Toran rubbed his neck. “Yeah . . . you kind of were an ass.” He paused. “I’m sorry about what I said, too. I guess you aren’t too bad of a Prince.”
He grinned.
That was all Jaime needed to know they were alright again.
A six-foot Glaiddish giant—gods, the Waterfolk were so big—offered to take Jaime into the infirmary where Cassie lay, but he shook his head.
“I’m fine,” he lied.
Why are the Western Kings here? Why now? Usheon’s reigned for fourteen years.
He had to find out.
Shouting broke out between the two factions. A throng surrounded his father—or Cassie’s blood-father. Jaime still wasn’t sure what to make of that. A black-eyed Kaipponese warrior hammered a nail into the wall. Another shoved Usheon under it.
“Viro—” Gildas boomed, but the Firefolk wrapped Usheon’s chains around the nails and wrested his wrists upward. The Glaiddish King dismounted and marched his unkempt bulk straight to the Kaipponese Emperor.
“Viro! He is still a Sage!”
The Emperor murmured something to a bald warrior mounted beside him. If the Glaiddish were big, he was inhumanly tall; a repulsive scar ran from his left eye to his jawbone. The bald giant said in crisp Moderna: “The day he swore himself to the Imperial Throne, he belonged to Tazuga.”
A Kaipponese warrior stepped forward with a whip. Another shoved a blade under Usheon’s garments and ripped them open so his back was exposed.
Jaime marched forward, but Eridene wrenched him back.
The Jaypan and Glaiddish officials gasped.
Hideous scars malformed Usheon’s back from another lifetime: overlapping lash marks, swollen callouses, melted flesh where the horned dragon of the Fire Emblem was branded on with hot metal.
Jaime couldn’t explain his sudden fury.
He was about to throw himself between the Kaipponese and Usheon, but the King of Glaidde beat him to it.
“Enough!”
Every word that came out of him was an explosion of thunder.
“This man will be tried fairly, or you will face Glaidde’s wrath.”
The bald warrior calmly translated: “The Emperor says you are majiku, and so are your false court trials. Please keep out of His Imperial Holiness’s way or you will see Fire as your Sage-mother did.”
Gildas Brennte bellowed from the saddle. Viro Tazuga stayed quiet and withdrawn. For a second, Jaime was certain the elder King would rip the Emperor’s throat out.
“Remember, you small-cocked bastard,” Gildas roared, “this peace between you and me is temporary.”
The bald giant started to draw his kendao, but Viro held up a hand and turned his head profile.
“Oh, yes, Gildas, it is. Say, we have time now. Why not finish what we came here for?”
His Moderna, though accented, was crisp as embers. The lords of the Western Kingdoms fell silent. Gildas knitted his scraggly brows.
Jaime held his breath.
What did they come here for?
King Gildas grunted. “Preparations—provisions need to be made. The boys need rest. And a war trial must be assembled before anything else. Then you and I may speak about concessions and the like.”
Emperor Viro chuckled lowly. “No games please, Gildas.”
“Everything in its proper place and time—”
“No games.” Viro’s oily black eyes flashed. “Larfour Kingdom is dead; my Kingdom has long surpassed it in supremacy. As for Glaidde—” He smiled sharply. “Not worth discussing.” Jaime froze as the Emperor’s eyes severed through him. “This mere island lags behind thrones of power. Thus, it is my right, by the holy gods, to declare it a province of Kaippon.”
“Now hold—”
“Eh? Will you stop me?” Viro’s lip curled. “Did I not burn your Sage-mother?”
Several Glaiddish drew their swords, but King Gildas raised a fist. His knights grit their teeth and stood down.
“Are you calling a Duel?”
“Eh?”
Gildas Brennte slammed his palm down. “I will call it then, you dragon-faced son of a bitch.”
“Excellent. You will burn, fat one. Shall we name the stakes?”
Jaime felt Eridene’s shoulders tighten against his. It was obvious what the Emperor would demand: the Water Kingdom. Her Kingdom.
The torches danced across Viro’s angular face. “If I win, the Air Kingdom and the Sageling,” he glanced at Jaime, “is mine.”
He staggered.
“He can’t do that,” Jaime hissed in Eridene’s ear. “Jaypes isn’t a prize for The West to claim! The people—Cassie and I—”
“Only one boy?” King Gildas said.
“Ottega’s spawn is charred offal. I have no use f
or him.”
“Then, if I am victorious, I will place both boys and this Kingdom under the Royal protection of Glaidde.”
What’s going on?
Why were the Kings involving Jaypes in their war?
The color drained from Eridene’s face. “Jamian, I think . . . Viro will take you as his apprentice and train you into a Fire Sage. He’ll use you to tip the scales against my Kingdom.”
“I would never—”
“He will force you to serve him. He will break you in ways you can’t imagine—I’ve seen him do it before. And once he wins the War of The West and conquers Glaidde . . . ”
“Viro’s going to destroy the Unity.”
Jaime peered up at the circle of sky. The banestorm was now crossing into Central Jaypes. With one furious snap of lightning, rain began to trickle down into the Colosseum.
It’s already beginning.
“Eridene, we have to stop them. If we don’t—”
But it was too late. The decision was sealed when the Western Kings venomously shook hands.
The Kaipponese dragged the trembling herald back into the stands, snarling at him to announce a Duel. The present audience cowered and sat in place as the Western Kaipponese pointed their blades at them.
The Glaiddish commander ordered his men to take Jaime into the infirmary, but he resisted them again.
“They are battling for Jaypes Kingdom,” he spit. “My Kingdom. I will stay here and watch.”
The commander backed off with a stilted bow. Eridene and Toran helped him into the upper stands. Everything below that was now occupied with Western officials.
Energy seeped out of his wounds. Every step was excruciating. Eridene’s lips pursed with concern. But Jaime took her hand again, gave a quick squeeze.
The fires from his Duel with Usheon glowed across the Colosseum. Still, the two Kings took their places on opposite sides of the arena. Viro shed off his full silk regalia, like a dragon shedding its skin, till only a light kimono clothed him. Colosseum staff rushed to change the tapestries to Water and Fire.
The familiarity whirled him into sickness.
How can they repeat what happened? Don’t they understand?
Rain poured down from the sky, growing heavier with his every breath. The battle for the Four Kingdoms began.
Unlike his Duel with Usheon, no sudden currents emerged from either side. At the Emperor’s lead, both of them bowed to each other. Then Viro Tazuga clasped his trim hands together. Gildas Brennte bent his hulking head as if in meditation.
Both of them fell deathly still.
Uneasy anticipation rippled across the Colosseum. But Jaime felt it: a sudden rise in Empyrean energy flooding the space below him. It grew more concentrated until his chest convulsed for air.
Viro was the first to lift his head. A raging serpent of fire lashed across the arena. It was twice larger than anything Usheon had summoned.
Gildas waited.
Jaime wrung the iron railing, drawing the smell of blood.
At the last second, a shimmering wall of water burst in front of Gildas, dissolving the wild flames in a vapor of spray that surged high above the arena. Some of it sprinkled onto Jaime’s head.
The realness of that water shook him awake.
A collective gasp erupted from the Colosseum. The officials on the lower levels rose from their seats.
Viro raised his palms again. A thick twister of flame danced around his body, casting his face into light and shadow. His silk trains billowed. Jaime slowly backed away. The Emperor’s avai energy was the size of a leviathan compared to the grapeseed of his own.
How is that possible?
How could one man house so much energy—
The twister burst into hundreds of smaller shafts of flame. The fireballs drove the King of Glaidde towards the stone wedges. His body flitted into a blur—as fast as he had seen Arrys move in western Jaypes. Why wasn’t he fighting back?
Gildas drew near the spot where Usheon’s current had struck Jaime. Pivoted around. His body radiated a glow like the seas in the midst of a storm, a raging bright turquoise.
He’s biding energy—
Shards of water gathered together to form a gigantic sphere, shielding the Glaiddish King inside. Viro’s fire currents battered viciously against its walls. Unable to penetrate. The Emperor’s avai smoldered larger. With its growth, the fire currents grew thicker, until one finally burst the water sphere open.
But instead of crashing flat against the wedges, it abruptly soared upward in a massive tidal wave. Its shadow fell on the officials. Their tiny shapes screamed, scrambling to higher seating.
Water crashed down on Viro’s shaved head with all the force of a collapsing citadel. For a terrible moment, the Fire Emperor’s body disappeared inside it.
Eridene’s thumb drilled into Jaime’s palm.
Is it over? Is Emperor Viro dead?
A hand fell on his shoulder. Jaime blinked hard, trying to see through the blinding rainfall.
Arrys smiled grimly.
Jaime forced a pained smile in return. You’re okay. The Larfene joined him behind the railing, his sage-green eyes fixed on the Duel below.
Toran pointed at the tidal wave. “Hey, look!”
Within the dark waters, a yellow glow blistered from inside. Jaime shielded his eyes.
Suddenly, the wall of water dispersed throughout the Colosseum.
Under the downpour, Viro Tazuga stood upright, drenched, his chest rising and falling heavily. Hate twisted his face into a snarl.
Jaime gasped. All four of them backed away as a monstrous shape rose high into the upper circuits.
The intensity of this new fire current must have equaled a catapult’s missile knocking into a curtain wall. Jaime slammed against the stands, gasping in pain. The current’s energy seared his avai.
Arrys was the only one left standing, his eyes narrowed, his breathing steady.
Cries erupted from the lower stands. The remaining spectators began to flee the Colosseum.
Slowly, the unified current formed a horned dragon of flame. Every sickening pulse of Viro’s mammoth avai battered Jaime’s. As if alive, the current opened its jaws and thrust itself towards Gildas’s doll-sized shape. The fire continued to rage against the flat of the ground until the tip of the dragon’s tail died away in a violent spark.
The arena went dark.
Jaime struggled to help Eridene up. A cry broke from her throat. He held her for comfort against the burning pain in his leg.
Viro flitted off the wrestling pit, over the artificial river, across the island of wedges, until he was less than ten jumps away from the King of Glaidde.
A smaller current of fire swept over the still darkness, searching for an upright body. It was impossible that Gildas could have survived that last current.
Or so he thought—
A single water current rushed to meet it. Eridene’s eyes widened with hope.
Against the dark, a blossom of bright blue materialized. A thick layer of sweat and rain sullied Gildas Brennte’s face, his fury spilling into his glowing eyes.
He was alive.
Teeth bared, Viro leapt off his stone wedge to meet him. As the Kings flitted across the heart of the arena, the overpowering energy of their currents put out the last of the torches. The Colosseum grew darker than the skies.
Rain fell harder. The ground quaked under Jaime’s feet. Now, the only light came from the glowing bodies of the injured Sages.
“This is murder,” Jaime whispered.
Arrys’s attention switched to him. He gave a subtle swing of his head.
Follow me.
Jaime blinked in confusion, but he let go of Eridene, limping away into the end of the aisle.
“Prince,” Arrys said, “I could not retrieve the
medallion. Too many guards.”
He swallowed. “That’s okay. It doesn’t matter now. Nothing can stop this.”
Arrys’s voice lowered. “I had my suspicions before, but I do not think the Temple treasure gave you power of Air.”
“What do you mean?”
A violent tremor passed through the ground again, throwing Jaime onto his knees.
Visions of the past reeled through his mind: the way Commander Julias said Jaime reminded him of someone he knew; the way he saw no resemblance of himself in Usheon’s face; how he could only feel Air, but never Fire; how the one time fire appeared on Mount Alairus, Cassie was present. And Achuros’s voice: When you became my apprentice, you reminded me of Lairdos so much.
“You are Ascaerii,” Arrys said.
He choked. “But—how is that possible? Unless . . . they had a child they told no one about.”
Arrys gazed at him unblinkingly.
“Hold on—Achuros mentioned he used to serve in the Capital. I never thought twice about it, or how he ended up in Arcurea—but what if the Queen asked him to leave because she wanted him to hide me from Usheon?”
That had to be it. It was the only explanation.
Shock overwhelmed him as the burden of Lord Jaypes’s prophecy lifted off his shoulders. Usheon Ottega wasn’t his father. All this time, the prophecy hadn’t been about him at all.
“I’m a Sage of Air!” he cried.
Only Arrys seemed to hear his shout above the roar of currents. But Jaime’s joy dissolved as he switched his gaze back to the Kings.
This Duel wasn’t about The West. It was a battle for the Four Kingdoms, and no matter how it ended, it would swallow up the last free Kingdom into the Western war. The delicate Unity their gods had fought to restore would break forever.
Jaime glanced at the sky. Furious stormwinds ripped apart the New Jaypes banners on the upper circuit. This was his Kingdom. Only he could stand up and fight for it.
“‘And he said, ‘You cannot overcome this storm,’” Arrys quoted.
I swore an oath the day I agreed to train with Achuros.
“Help me get to the roof?”
Arrys nodded. Jaime quietly stepped away from Eridene and Toran. Their backs were turned to him, their faces showing unrestrained fear, illuminated by the alternating glow of ocean-blue and magma-red.
Stormfire Page 29
