During their time in the Loresmith Forge, Ara had noticed a change coming over the princess. She bore herself with a new confidence. Her mood was lighter, happier, but remained girded by steel. When she stood on the dais, she looked regal.
Ara presented the pillow to Nava. “I give you Restoration.”
Nava took up the crown and lifted it. Its gold band rose into five symmetrical peaks, each peak bearing a symbol of the gods. The entirety of the band was inscribed with the unknown writing.
“Your work exceeds my expectations, Loresmith. I thank you.”
Ara bowed to the goddess. “I am honored.”
Nava turned to Nimhea. Without being asked, the princess knelt.
“Nimhea, Flamecrowned, I name you Loreknight and Queen. Restorer of the River Throne.”
Nava laid the crown on Nimhea’s head, and it was instantly alight with flames. Fire of gold, orange, red, and blue danced over its surface but did no harm to the princess.
“It feels as if it weighs nothing,” Nimhea murmured. She smiled up at the goddess. Her cheeks were wet with tears, but only joy shone in her eyes.
“If it pained you, it would be a poor gift.” Nava laughed, then her dancing eyes grew solemn. “You are the realm’s rightful ruler, and you shall be its protector. It is time for you to take your place. When you wear this crown, no harm can come to you.”
Nimhea’s eyes widened.
“More than that,” the goddess continued, “you are the protector of your peers. When this crown sits upon your head and you fight beside them, neither shall your fellow Loreknights come to harm. No weapon will touch them, nor spell assault them.”
“My reign will honor you, Nava,” Nimhea said. “And every day I rule, I will strive to heal Saetlund, its people, and the earth that sustains us.”
“Rise, Queen Nimhea.”
Nimhea stood, and Nava leaned forward to press a kiss to the princess’s cheeks. “My love and blessings go with you, my child.”
Nava turned her attention to Ara once more. “Loresmith, you have faced my trial and succeeded, and you have more trials to come.” Nava touched her cheek, and Ara was suffused with the knowledge that she was loved. “Yet I must give you another task.”
“I am your servant, Nava,” Ara replied.
“You saw the depth of my grief. Know it is born of the past but also the present. The children, suffering, prisoned; they are the present,” Nava said, and for a moment grief wracked her features. “You must save them before he becomes.”
Cold fingers wrapped around Ara’s neck at Nava’s last three words.
Before he becomes.
Nimhea asked the question trapped in Ara’s throat. “Before who becomes what?”
Nava didn’t answer, instead smiling at them and resting her other hand on Nimhea’s cheek.
The world around them dissolved.
* * *
Ara and Nimhea stood on the dock behind the Frog’s Folly, and Tymas fell over.
“Ye’re—ye’re here!” He gripped the side of his boat and waited for its wild rocking to cease. “It canna be. Ye had no punt.”
Ara reconciled herself to the fact that a moment earlier they had been in Nava’s Ire and now they were in the fishing village with the morning sun shining down on them.
“We had an extraordinary kind of help,” she told Tymas.
The fisherman’s eyes widened, and he stared at the pair of them.
“In all me days,” he said softly. “I ne’er believed such a thing could happen.”
Pulling his gaze away, he returned to the task of tying his boat to the dock.
“Are you just now getting back?” Nimhea asked.
“Aye,” Tymas said, sounding abashed. “I couldna bring meself to leave ye in that treacherous place. Stayed there all night I did. When ye didna come back at dawn, I came back to the village, thinkin’ to roust up the other fisherfolk to search for ye.”
“Thank you, Tymas,” Ara said, deeply touched.
He ducked his head and didn’t reply.
“Tymas!” Dilia burst out of the tavern’s back door. “Ye’re back, thank Nava! I been fearin’ the worst for ye. Me poor heart.”
She stumbled to a halt when confronted with the sight of Ara and Nimhea. “Me husband brought ye back, did he? He’s a blessed soul for that. Did ye find what ye were searchin’ for?”
Tymas climbed onto the dock. “I didna bring them back. They just appeared on the dock. ’Tis magic, that is.”
“Nae,” Dilia scoffed.
“Ye see ’em here, don’t ye?” he replied. “By Nava, they didna come back in this boat.”
“By Nava indeed,” Nimhea said with a sly grin, and Ara laughed.
Flustered, Dilia changed the subject. “Ye’ll nae believe it, Tymas. We hae more guests!”
Ara’s pulse skipped, and she heard Nimhea draw a sharp breath. They exchanged a quick glance before rushing to the door and into the tavern.
Nimhea gave a shriek of joy. “Lahvja!”
Princess and summoner flew into each other’s arms and fell into a storm of laughter, sobs, and kisses.
“I will not receive such a welcome, I think.” Joar smiled at Ara. Huntress stood beside him, wagging her tail.
Ara went to him. “I do want to hug you.”
She wrapped her arms around him and laughed when he lifted her off her feet.
“It is good to see you, little Loresmith,” he said, setting her down.
Huntress barked, and Ara knelt beside the huge wolf, scratching her head and receiving a sloppy kiss as thanks.
Ara wiped off her face and stepped back to look at the newly arrived trio. They looked tired, but otherwise well. She felt a swell of relief, but also a little withering of her spirit at the one who was still missing.
Where are you, Teth? Her heart gave a painful wrench. I need you.
Lahvja and Nimhea had finished reassuring each other that they were alive, and Lahvja came to hug Ara.
“You have completed another trial.” The summoner smiled at her. “Well done.”
Ara smiled back. “Nimhea did most of the work.”
“How did you get out of the Great Market?” Nimhea asked.
“Joar did most of the work,” Lahvja replied, grinning at Ara. “Huntress warned us. She sensed something was amiss, and Joar went to get our horses. He came back just before the soldiers swarmed our camp.”
Ara looked at her with alarm. “But you weren’t captured.”
“Like I said,” Lahvja told her. “Joar did most of the work. Those axes of his are astonishing. Did you know they sing and make blizzards?”
When Ara lifted one eyebrow, Lahvja laughed. “Oh. Of course you did, no matter. By the time he cut down the first dozen, the others backed off enough for us to flee on horseback. If they gave chase, I think it was with little enthusiasm. They never caught up.”
“Thank Nava.” Nimhea kissed Lahvja’s temple.
“I’ve been thanking her with every breath. Even more so since I set eyes on you a few minutes ago.” Lahvja laughed, pressing a light kiss to Nimhea’s lips.
Then she looked at Ara, and her eyes grew serious. “But no news of Teth?”
“I was going to ask you the same.” Ara’s shoulders slumped.
Ioth had been standing aside during their reunion, but now he joined them. “They didn’t come with agents of the Below as I expected. We won’t know anything further of Teth until those agents arrive, or he does.”
Ara’s lips set in a grim line, and she nodded, fighting another wave of grief.
Where are you?
“If agents didn’t bring you here, how did you know where to find us?” Nimhea asked, threading her arm through Lahvja’s.
“We had a visit from an old friend.” Lahvja beamed at them. “Fox!”
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“Fox!” Ara and Nimhea exclaimed at once.
Joar grumbled, “I did not understand the antics of that beast nor why Lahvja started laughing and clapping her hands. I have seen many foxes, and I have never wanted to clap.”
“I was so happy to see Fox, I not only clapped, I cried,” Lahvja added.
“Nor have I ever been told I must follow a fox for miles and miles,” Joar muttered with irritation.
Ara’s brow crinkled, and she asked Lahvja, “You did explain to him that Fox is Eni.”
“Eventually,” the summoner replied, eyes twinkling. “But I enjoyed his grumpiness for a while before I did. Joar is very funny when he’s grumpy.”
“I am not.” Joar crossed his arms over his chest.
Lahvja patted his bulging bicep fondly. “Oh you are. You just don’t know it.”
“Is Eni still here?” Ara asked anxiously. As Teth’s patron, the god might know what had happened to him.
“No,” Lahvja answered. “As soon as we reached the village, Fox ran off. Fox led us here, but Eni did not speak to us.”
“Ye must be starvin’!” Dilia trundled into the inn, pushed two tables together, and herded them to chairs.
Eyeing Joar, she said, “Ye’re the largest man I e’er seen. I best bring a boatload of a meal for ye.”
“Yes.” Joar looked pleased.
“It’s a little early for me.” Ioth excused himself. “I’m going to check on the horses while you catch up.”
* * *
Every platter, plate, bowl, and basket Dilia brought them was picked clean within minutes. Ara was ravenous, and her companions stuffed themselves with food with equal fervor.
When they leaned back in their chairs, bellies sated, only Joar glanced toward the kitchen as if hoping for more.
He caught Ara eyeing him and shrugged. “I did not hunt on the way here.”
“That chowder was superb.” Lahvja sighed with contentment. “I need to ask Dilia for the recipe.”
Nimhea rested her elbows on the table. She let her eyes rest on Lahvja, and Ara was surprised to see pain in the princess’s gaze.
Turning to the rest of them, Nimhea said, “I came to understand something in Nava’s Ire. It affects all of us.”
Lahvja’s brow crinkled with concern. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Nimhea replied. “Something is necessary. I need to fulfill my duty and become a leader of the people.”
Ara’s chest tightened as she anticipated what the princess would say next.
“When we leave this place, I’ll go with Ioth to the Resistance,” Nimhea told them. “They need me, and the Resistance is where I belong.”
Her words settled around the table, and for a few minutes it was quiet. Lahvja took Nimhea’s hand and gripped it tightly.
Joar spoke first. “I think this is wise. You will be their queen.”
“The rumors that I’ve returned have set a fire in the hearts of Saetlund’s people,” Nimhea said, a smile flashing on her face. “The truth that I’m here could be the key to gaining the allies and hopefully mitigating the harm done by our loss of the Below.”
Ara nodded slowly. “And Nava told you it was time to take your place.”
“She did,” Nimhea replied in a quiet voice.
“If it is Nava’s will, you must go,” Lahvja said stiffly. Her olive skin paled with strain. “But we cannot go with you.”
“I know.” Nimhea gave her a sad smile. “Where will you go?”
Lahvja tore her gaze away from the princess to look at Ara and Joar. “We must continue to the next hidden site, that of the twins. To find it, we will go to the Well.”
“Make the pilgrimage,” Ara said with awe.
The pilgrimage to the Well of the Twins had been outlawed by the empire the year Ara was born, but her grandmother told her that even before the ban, few dared venture to the holy site. The climb into the mountain peaks was too treacherous, the weather too unpredictable.
The idea of making it herself was intimidating, but the path to the Well was so near Rill’s Pass. She might have a chance to see her grandmother and Old Imgar. To go home. That possibility filled her with joy. It would mean so much to her to be with her loved ones. To tell them everything that had happened since she’d left. She hoped she would make them proud.
With all of her being, she hoped Teth would be with her. She wanted him to see the places she’d loved as a child and meet her family.
Nava, please let him be safe. Eni, please bring your chosen back to me.
“It will be good to return to the mountains.” Joar had a wistful expression, which looked strange on the warrior’s usually stern face. “I regard them as my home.”
Lahvja’s voice was laden with sorrow, but she smiled at him. “We will need your experience to survive the trek. The way is difficult.”
“That is all the more exciting!” Joar looked like a child who had just received a gift and couldn’t wait to open it.
“Then it’s decided,” Nimhea said. “When Ioth is ready to leave, I’ll go with him, and you’ll go to the Well.”
“I think we should take Elke’s Pass into the mountains,” Ara said. “We could travel through the Fjeri lowlands to come at the pilgrimage from the south, but there are less likely to be patrols in the mountains. The empire is chasing us now, and we must do our best to stay hidden.”
The others nodded their agreement.
Ara paused, heart in her throat, then added, “But we’ll wait for Teth.”
“He’s not coming.” Ioth stood a few feet away wearing a bleak expression. Lucket’s agent Elin hovered behind him.
The truth of it unfolded in Ara’s mind before he spoke. Nightmare emotions born in Nava’s Ire roared through her. Her eyes wanted to squeeze shut and she needed to scream, but she made herself remain still when Ioth said:
“Teth was taken.”
Epilogue
Liran had spent more time in the Temple of Vokk over the last several weeks than he had in the entirety of his fifteen years in Saetlund. He found the place more vile than ever.
Each time he entered the building, he seemed to notice some new noxious odor or catch some nameless thing squirming in the shadows out of the corner of his eye, only to have it disappear when he tried to discern what it was. Every horror hounded Liran, a reminder that he should have paid closer attention, intervened sooner.
Upon entering the ArchWizard’s office, Liran was startled by his brother’s haggard appearance. Zenar’s already pale skin was ashen and stretched too tight, putting the contours of his skull on display. His fingernails had grown long, curving like talons.
When Liran approached Zenar’s desk, his brother stared at him with red-rimmed eyes.
“It has begun.” Despite his wretched appearance, the ArchWizard looked exultant.
Rather than speak, Liran decided to wait for an explanation. There was a frenzied sheen to Zenar’s gaze that told Liran to be extremely cautious in the conversation.
Zenar picked up a letter from his desk and shook it at Liran. “He is coming. At last. He is coming to me!”
Again, Liran stayed silent as Zenar bared his teeth in what might have been a smile.
He threw the letter at Liran. “It’s all falling into place.”
After retrieving the letter from the floor, Liran smoothed the wrinkled sheaf of paper and quickly read its contents. The letter was from their father. Fauld the Ever-Living had set sail for Saetlund. He would be here just after the next moon.
Liran held his emotions in check while his mind reeled. He hadn’t seen his father in years. The emperor’s attentions were supposed to be focused on the increasing unrest in other imperial territories. Why would his plans suddenly change?
“Did you do this?” Liran placed the letter back on the desk, hoping he hid the
edge of anger in the question.
Zenar shook his head. “No . . . well, perhaps. It was not my intention to draw our father here, but it suits my purpose.”
“Then why is he coming, if not at your request?” Liran didn’t need this. Too much was already happening. Imperial raids on the Below had made the Resistance vulnerable. They needed time to shore themselves up before taking the next step.
And Liran needed to know more. The letter said nothing about whether their father was bringing reinforcements or soldiers of any number with him. Any infusion of troops whose loyalties lay with the emperor could quash the rebels’ chance at a coup.
“I believe he senses that I am close.” Zenar sounded triumphant. “He plans to stop me, but he won’t arrive in time. The key will be mine, and Fauld the Ever-Living cannot prevent his downfall.”
He picked up the chalice sitting on his desk and went to the wall, filling it with black ooze.
“Are you going to tell me what this key is?” Liran fought through a wave of nausea as Zenar took sips from the chalice. The dark substance seemed to crawl over his lips and into his mouth.
Zenar studied his brother’s face, then set the chalice down. “Yes. Now that Father is coming, you should know what I’ve discovered, what I’ve labored at for years. It’s what makes our victory possible, and I want to assure you that we will win. Against the two of us, Father has no chance.”
“Father is untouchable because he’s tethered to Vokk,” Liran said. “When Father comes, Vokk comes with him. Do you actually believe you can best our god?”
“I don’t.” Zenar’s mouth spread in a skeletal grin. “I won’t need to.”
Liran frowned at the ArchWizard.
“Don’t you see, brother? Our god is the Devourer,” Zenar said. “All I must do is show Vokk that I’m hungrier than Father. Much, much hungrier.”
He retrieved the chalice and drained its contents. “Follow me.”
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