Tellus

by Tyffany Hackett

  Eáryn’s eyes were on me as she said, “Your mother already had her magic by this point, though like you, she struggled to control the power. Alvar monitored your family long before he and Meryn came to you. Long before such protection would actually be needed, he insisted your family have magic. He was incredibly concerned that your line wouldn’t be ready if they needed to protect Nahara in this more vulnerable form.

  “Why did they need to hide her?” Camion asked.

  “Valdis went into hiding after his son was taken. We couldn’t find any trace of him,” Izoryian said. “Nahara was always our best defense, and the only Titan with the power to hold her own against him. But when he vanished, we didn’t know how to protect her. Not in a way that would allow her to prepare for a fair fight or to live without fearing he would strike at any time. So, we hid her. She . . . you”—he gestured at Meryn—“agreed to the plan. You were able to live a normal, albeit human, life this way, at least until Valdis returns. We still don’t entirely know where he is, but his magic is active and highly concentrated in the northern half of Araenna.”

  “Natylia has magic because I went into hiding?”

  “Yes,” Eáryn said. “The royalty in Thrais have had magic for many generations now.”

  “Actually, the gift skipped your grandfather,” Izoryian corrected. “Which meant we had to be crafty about returning arcana to your line—I can tell you that story later. The timing was impeccable. Within a fortnight we received word that Thrais had added a High Enchanter, and that he had a daughter with him. A girl with hair bright as fire.”

  “Nahara’s element . . .” I murmured, eyeing my friend’s copper curls.

  Eáryn raised an amused eyebrow. “Indeed. Alvar sent us word not long after that, stating that he suspected the Shadows were closing in. Valeria and Cyrus have been a bane longer than we care to admit,” she added in a grumble.

  “So why not contend with them?” Camion asked.

  “The Shadows are hard to kill and harder to find,” Izoryian answered. “We didn’t think much of the message until we learned that Alvar was dead.”

  Meryn hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, but at the last bit her breath caught. The Elves glanced in her direction. “And then?” she asked.

  “Myrdin gave up bits of himself to hide each of the Scepters, and then seal them away. To lock the catacombs, to protect the Imber Scepter, he sacrificed himself completely,” Izoryian said. “The earth in the graveyard still whispers his story, if you have the ability to listen.” He glanced pointedly at Jyn, then the wall of jars. Jyn stoically avoided his eyes.

  “And when Alvar wanted to ensure no one could get to . . . me . . .” Meryn said hesitantly.

  “He sacrificed himself.” Sadness colored Eáryn’s voice, and she stared at the ground. “All his magic, every drop, was thrown into you, to protect you. He depleted his life energy, but by doing so he ensured that you could look Valdis in the face and not be noticed. He, nor anyone who would mean you harm, will ever find you, unless you want them to.”

  “Then why do I age normally now?” Meryn’s voice was small, tears lining her eyes.

  “Alvar’s magic broke Myrdin’s. The existing protection spell shattered because a greater one was put in place. Even now I can only feel Alvar’s magic around you,” Eáryn said. Izoryian nodded in agreement before she continued. “The two in Thrais, Callithyia and Sylvr? One knows where your life essence is. Another precaution. We took your stone, a dragon opal, as we took from the Titans we entombed. But yours was for your safety, so the stone couldn’t give you away while you were running with Alvar. When you restore your memories, your full magic will return. All your abilities, your durability. But . . . Valdis will be able to find you. Easily.”

  “How old are Callithyia and Sylvr?” Andimir murmured. His voice was barely a whisper, but Izoryian smiled.

  “Callithyia is human. She has some natural abilities, but she’s utterly human. Her knowledge of Meryn—Nahara—is passed to her through the temple, as with all the High Priestesses. Sylvr . . . you might want to ask her yourself.”

  “So how do I restore my memories?” Meryn sounded numb. I desperately wanted to hug her. But I waited so she could have space to process.

  “Regain your life essence.” Eáryn paused. “The entombed Titans are suffering the same problem—limited memories. They get what’s fed to them by the person or Titan holding their Scepters. But until they’re given their life essence back, they won’t be at full strength.” Her attention slid to Camion. “Don’t repair that Scepter unless you have to. Cybele will immediately know your position, and none of them need their memories to know they hate humans. Eurybia is currently in the southern islands—her sister could easily tell her where you are.”

  His eyes widened. “You know what I have?”

  “I’m fairly certain every Elf in the city can feel what lurks in your pack,” Izoryian said. “But as long as you’re our guests, no one will harm you. Our penalties are harsh.”

  “So . . .” I met Meryn’s hazel eyes. “We need to get you back to Thrais.”

  “It seems that way,” she said, her voice almost lifeless.

  I swallowed, then slipped away from Camion to fold her into my arms. Under my breath I said, “This changes nothing. You’re still my best friend.”

  “This changes everything,” she murmured, but tightened her grip. “But yes. Always.”

  When I released her, Eáryn was shaking her head. I shot a confused look in her direction and she said, “Humans never cease to surprise me. You have the capacity for so much hatred . . . I’m always amazed when you have the strength to choose love.”

  “Do you have a library?” Meryn asked. The Elves seemed confused by the abrupt topic change so Meryn added, “I’ve always processed information better when it’s . . . tangible.”

  Izoryian nodded piteously. “We do. And you’re all welcome to our resources. I’ll have the historians bring you the volumes we have on your story, as well.” He glanced around at the rest of us. “We can show you to rooms. You may stay as long as you need.”

  “Thank you. We won’t stay long,” I said. “We don’t want to ask too much of you, knowing what danger we put you in by being here with . . .” I motioned to Camion’s bag.

  “Truthfully, we’re all in danger no matter where that Scepter is,” Eáryn said. “Thankfully Eurybia is pretty restricted to water, if she wants to make full use of the abilities she does have. She could take the scepter from you, if she chose, though. Cybele would be a real concern. She’s as bloodthirsty and ruthless as her brother, and we’re not talking about Boreas.”

  “Can you tell us more about them?” Andimir asked. “What little we know was taunted by the Shadows to Natylia, and there wasn’t much.”

  “We’ll help you as we can.” Izoryian sighed. “I can tell you that the Elves are keen to avoid the actual battle, if possible.”

  “You’ll find firsthand accounts in the library, as well,” Eáryn added. “Our historians are incredibly accurate and detail oriented. Maybe you’ll find something to help you, even if you’re not staying long.”

  “We appreciate your hospitality,” I said, lowering my head.

  “Anything, Your Majesty,” Izoryian murmured, repeating the gesture.

  Jyn broke his unnatural silence, finally. The low question that left his lips gave me pause. “Who killed my parents, Izoryian?”

  The Elf looked up at Jyn slowly. “Why do you ask in such an accusatory tone, Vaalyjyn?”

  “Because I’ve searched. All these years, I’ve searched. And the Shadows? They knew me immediately. But they don’t work off contract. So,” Jyn repeated the question slowly, “who killed my parents?”

  “Vaalyjyn, I’m not sure this is the time,” Izoryian said hesitantly. I glanced between them, breath caught in my throat. “Consider what your friend has just learned.”

  Jyn shot a glance at Meryn. She shrugged. “Tell him.”

  “I did,” Eáryn
said, after a long beat of silence. The temper flared in Jyn’s eyes. Izoryian had his sword in hand before Jyn could think to pull a dagger.

  “Why?” Jyn growled, voice raising. “Why?”

  “They were traitors, Jyn. Spies.” Eáryn’s throat bobbed. “They found out we were protecting Nahara. When they discovered where she and Alvar were hiding, they ran for Valdis. The Shadows found them first.”

  “Because you contracted them,” Jyn spat out.

  Dark hair fell into Eáryn’s face and she sighed. “I did. Because there was no other way to stop them. But I spared you. Because I didn’t believe you knew what they were doing. I didn’t think they had shared what they knew. I didn’t want . . .”

  Her voice trailed away and Jyn growled in frustration. His eyes fell to Izoryian’s blade. He gestured at it in annoyance. “Put that away. I’m not going to attack her.”

  “The subject of conversation is heated and emotional. How do I know you can be trusted?” Izoryian said. Jyn glared at him and he added, “Do you think Afemriel would forgive you, if you killed Eárynspieir?”

  “Who’s Afemriel?” Meryn asked, seeming glad the subject had shifted away from her.

  “Eárynspieir’s wife and Jyn’s former tutor,” Izoryian answered. At the confusion on my face he added, “Royalty, nobility, whatever you wish to call the higher classes of Elves, we don’t follow the human custom of marrying into leadership positions within our race. We do as we please. I am the Lord and she the Lady, but we’re not married.”

  “Eárynspieir married, but Izoryian would rather sample the wares,” Jyn added, rolling his eyes. Anger still danced in his eyes, but he knew he was outmatched.

  Izoryian grinned, sheathing his sword. “Why eat one fruit when you can have the whole basket?”

  Eáryn cast them both amused glances. “The Elves do what—and who—we please. There are no laws or regulations to tell us otherwise, because we don’t enforce them. As long as no one is being harmed, why bother?”

  Meryn inclined her head then, and seemingly before she could stop herself, spit out, “I was going to ask Sylvr to marry me. Now I’m . . . conflicted.”

  My heart shattered for her. For the number of emotions and thoughts that must be racing through her right now. But Eáryn was the one who said, “Does this really change anything, though? That she was doing her job?”

  “Is she a Titan, too?” Meryn asked. Izoryian and Eáryn exchanged a wary glance. “Maybe it doesn’t matter. But I’m not . . . I’m not sure.”

  “Think everything over,” Eáryn said with a small shrug. “But she kept the secret to keep you safe. If I had to lie so that someone I loved might live, I would be dishonest for the rest of my life.”

  Izoryian glanced around the room. I could only imagine the medley of emotions written across our faces, the least of which was likely to be Camion and Andimir, who both still looked utterly perplexed.

  “I know this has been a lot to take in,” Izoryian said, steepling his fingers. “Let us get you to your rooms so you can freshen up. If you like, you can attend dinner with us later.” He paused and grimaced, adding, “Though I must warn you, the meal is a social and formal affair every evening.”

  “Oh, they’re not all bad,” Eáryn said.

  “For an Elf who enjoys socializing,” he retorted.

  “Rooms would be lovely,” I interjected. “We can let you know about dinner?” The Elves were growing comfortable and my feet were aching on the stone floor. Izoryian smiled understandingly, gesturing back the way we came.

  Camion wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned heavily into his side. His presence was a calming reassurance against the chatter in my mind. Processing everything would take a minute. Jyn’s parents—spies. My magic—a gift to protect Nahara. And Nahara . . .

  She was actually my best friend, hidden in plain view. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how overwhelmed she felt. My mind hadn’t grasped the idea. Or what this could mean for her in the coming days.

  After a moment, Camion murmured, “You all right?”

  I looped my arm around his waist, squeezing gently. “With you? Always.”

  Chapter 32

  Our rooms were deep in the underground city, in a home Izoryian mentioned was only kept for visiting dignitaries. Outside, the building was unassuming, crafted from the same sparkling green stone that the rest of the city was carved from, the same gold-threaded lights lining the path to the front door.

  Inside, though, bright silver sconces accented the dark wooden walls and were lit with flickering golden flames that spoke of the Elven magic they were born from. Soft fabric draped windows that peeked out over the city, outlined by the shimmering rivers running throughout. The furnishings were perhaps the simplest part of the home, and even they were carved from finely polished woods in deep amber tones.

  Izoryian took us upstairs, to bedrooms that seemed a bit too large for the space allotted them. Camion and I took a room at the far end, one with a large, smokeless fire burning inside a niche in the front wall. Behind the flames, the fireplace was lined with more of that green stone. The flickering light made the glittering specs of silver look like stars blinking in and out of existence.

  We dropped our packs inside the room. I tapped around the floorboards, carefully pulling at each with my magic until one gave, then shoved the Tellus Scepter inside. Before we made our way back out into the hallway, Camion shuffled the rug into place so that if anyone dared snoop, nothing seemed out of sorts. Izoryian leaned against one wall, picking at his fingernails, but as we closed the door behind us, he straightened. His gaze followed each of our companions as they returned from their own rooms.

  “Eárynspieir went to oversee dinner preparations,” he said, scanning Meryn’s still shell-shocked face. When she didn’t so much as twitch, he added, “Don’t feel obligated to join us. Eárynspieir and Afemriel make dinners quite the affair, though only about a dozen of us actually attend regularly.”

  “I’ll attend, My Lord,” I said after a moment. “You’ve been kind to us, I’d like to return the hospitality.”

  “I’m glad. I’ll pass the word along.” Izoryian smiled, inclining his head. “I’ll send someone to retrieve you and any other friends who wish to attend in a while.” Jyn lifted his chin, daring the Lord to stop him. Izoryian’s smile stretched into a smirk. “I’m glad to see your spirits haven’t changed, Vaalyjyn. There are two communal bathing chambers downstairs, just follow the stairs to the left of the main doors. If you wish to partake of them, that is.”

  “Thank you,” I said

  He bent at the waist with a flourish. “You’re most welcome, Your Majesty.”

  I dipped into a small curtsy in reply. The gesture was stiff. I was saddened to realize I hadn’t needed such formality since . . . since Kalum. The visit with Audri felt ages away. My stomach flipped at the thought, at Fetian who hadn’t yet returned. I tried not to think about Annalea, but the worry was always there, lurking in the corner of my mind. The thought that she might join my mother and father . . .

  No. I refused to entertain the idea.

  Halfway down the hallway, Izoryian stopped to peer over his shoulder at Meryn. “I’ll send a map of the city as well, if you wish to forgo dinner for the library. I can send your food there, if you wish.”

  When only the five of us remained, I turned to Meryn. One look at the emotions on her face and I held open my arms, unsurprised that she stepped into the embrace. I froze when soft sobs shook her shoulders. Meryn didn’t cry. In all the years I had known her, she had only done so once, maybe twice.

  I hugged her more tightly, murmuring, “We’ll figure this out, Meryn.”

  “It all makes sense,” she sniffled, pulling away to wipe at her face. “The dryad in the forest. The dragon. They knew, before we even met the Lord and Lady. Maybe because they’re not human. I’ve felt like my sanity was slipping for months now. And Sylvr knew. She knew, and she let me feel so . . . lost.”

&nb
sp; “Maybe your knowing wasn’t safe?” I offered. “I don’t think she spent all this time protecting you to withhold information like this without reason.”

  “Maybe.” She brushed away the tears that slipped free, inhaling deeply. “I guess all that matters now is getting my memories back.”

  “Won’t that paint a target on you?” Worry lined Jyn’s eyes.

  Meryn lifted a resigned shoulder. “We always had targets on our backs, especially me apparently. Mine will just be a little bigger now. Maybe I can buy you time to get to the Ventus Scepter.”

  “You’re not bait,” I said coolly. Then I frowned. “You’re not going with us?”

  “No,” she said, her gaze falling to the floor. “You can heal, even if your energy is limited. With some training, your magic will be as good as mine is now—before my power is restored. I need to sort out who I am in all this. I’ve never felt so lost.”

  I hugged her again. “Do what you have to, my friend. Find yourself.” A knot climbed up my throat, my eyes burning when I added, “I’ll miss you.”

  “Don’t start with that,” she choked out, rubbing at her face again. “This isn’t goodbye. Not yet.” She offered a small smile. “We have a dinner to attend.”

  ***

  Izoryian wasn’t lying when he said Eáryn and Afemriel took their formal meals seriously. By the time we had bathed and dried, formal wear had been delivered to our rooms. The Lord of the Elves certainly had a good memory—each piece of clothing was perfectly matched to the recipient, in colors that best complemented our skin tones, the color of our eyes and hair.

  My own gown was a bright, cyan blue. The airy fabric tied behind my neck, slitting into a deep vee that left my back completely exposed. A belt of silvered leather tied around my waist, helping to hold the flowy, sheer skirts around my hips. If not for the short skirting beneath, I wasn’t convinced I would have dared wear the dress. One slight breeze would carry the fluttering fabric straight up. I still wasn’t entirely sure of the gown—a glimpse of my scars in the mirror sent butterflies fluttering through my stomach.