Tellus

by Tyffany Hackett

  “Do you have any questions for us?” Izoryian asked.

  I glanced around. Their explanations made sense. The pendant sat heavy on my palm. I almost shook my head when an idea entered my mind. “You’ve all been incredibly helpful, thank you. I have a question . . . but not about my abilities.”

  Meryn’s brow rose identically with Izoryian’s, but Eáryn was the one to say, “If we can help, we will.”

  “Do you know anything about the Dwarves, in regards to the Scepters? Did they help?”

  Eáryn and Izoryian exchanged a glance. The latter looked to Faeryn, who leaned forward, tapping a fork on the side of his plate. Finally, he said, “They helped, but I’m not sure of the full extent. There’s more in the library, if you’d like me to pull the volumes.”

  “I would, thank you,” I said, and the Elf bowed his head.

  Camion spoke up from beside me, “Did the Dwarves know how to animate stone?”

  Eáryn looked surprised at the question. “Why would they?”

  “A place we came across in Emeryn Marsh,” Camion said levelly, meeting her eyes.

  She considered him a moment. “You found Thastrag? The lost city of the Dwarves?” Realization dawned across her face. “That’s where—?”

  I knew she didn’t want to speak the name, in case the others didn’t yet know, so I simply gestured my confirmation. The Lady of the Elves leaned back against her seat, looking flabbergasted. “I didn’t know there was anything left to that city.”

  “There isn’t much,” Andimir admitted.

  “That still doesn’t answer his question. Could the Dwarves have animated stone?” Jyn asked wearily.

  Eáryn frowned. “Not that I’m aware of. What did you find?”

  “Two creatures, carved of black marble with gold veining,” Camion said. “Women, with wings instead of arms, talons instead of feet.”

  The Lord and Lady exchanged a glance. Their confused expressions seemed genuine before Izoryian said, “I’ve truly heard of no such thing.”

  She turned to her historians, both of whom were wracking their brains. Pháendar sat up straighter, running a finger over the light stubble along his jaw. His voice was much deeper than I had expected when he said, “They might not have actually animated the stone, but bound it to an animator. There was a creature, a small little thing they found while digging. They dug too deep, as Dwarves are keen to do, and found a new species . . . a little golden . . .” He paused, shaking his head as though he could jar the memory free. “They were . . . Lylitu, I believe. Faeryn can check the tomes. The Dwarves found them some years before the collapse, though.”

  “The collapse?” Andimir asked, at the same moment Camion said, “Lylitu?”

  Eáryn sighed heavily. “Let’s enjoy the rest of our meal, friends. History can wait till morning.”

  Chapter 33

  “Focus,” Izoryian said. He leaned against the white-padded wall nearby, tugging at the gem in his ear. “Control your magic. What do you want more than anything?”

  The Scepters. Araenna to be safe. My sister.

  I didn’t need to say the words out loud. He caught the expression on my face. “Sorry. I meant, if you want your magic to obey you, the outcome of the spell has to be your priority. In the moment, at least. If your focus wavers, so will your spell.”

  “You’ve got her doing paltry tricks. I can’t imagine why she’s struggling to focus,” Jyn scoffed. He paced the length of the empty training room, chest puffed, eyeing Izoryian and Andáerhyn with annoyance. The latter two were sure they could help me. Jyn wasn’t. Camion was quiet, watchful. I didn’t know how he felt.

  Andimir left with Meryn to the library. She had offered to stay, to help me, but I knew her heart was elsewhere. I couldn’t blame her. If I found out I was a Titan, I would want to know more. Similarly, I had a day to learn what I could about my powers before we had to keep moving. Izoryian took pity and offered me practical training, in a room the Elves used to teach their own. So, here we were.

  “All right, hit me,” Andáerhyn said, rolling back his shoulders and cracking his neck. “Right here.” He tapped his chest and flexed slowly, glancing pointedly in Jyn’s direction. Jyn stared at the ceiling, his face schooled into boredom. Andáerhyn smirked.

  “Are you sure? Won’t I hurt you?” I looked between Izoryian and Andáerhyn. The latter shook his head.

  “Your magic is strong but should be in a more concentrated state than ours,” Izoryian said. “We can gift humans magic, but it’s not exactly the same. That’s why your magic is blue and purple instead of gold. We don’t know what triggers the color change, but all humans with arcane magic see the same visual result.”

  “Enough talky, more fighty,” Andáerhyn taunted, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet.

  Izoryian rolled his eyes. “Let’s see what you can do. How about you start with pushing him back a bit?”

  I glanced toward Jyn and Camion. A smirk spread across Jyn’s lips. Camion inclined his head. Nerves sat heavy in my stomach, but I closed my eyes. I pulled up an image, the moment on Andimir’s ship when I had thrown Jyn backward. I imagined how I had felt, with the threat to Camion, and tried to project the magic toward Andáerhyn.

  Nothing.

  Air brushed past me. Soft footfalls. The citrus scent of bergamot filled my nose, chased with notes of cedar and the smell of river water after the rain. Izoryian spoke, close to my left side. “You’re glowing. You’re able to access your magic easily enough. What’s holding you back?”

  “I don’t know,” I muttered, opening my eyes. “I guess . . . when my magic has been strongest, there’s almost always been an emotional reason. I’ve only used my magic once or twice completely of my own will.”

  “Emotions do tend to override our logic . . .” Izoryian said, pulling at his earring thoughtfully. “So maybe focus on what you felt in one of those moments?”

  “I tried that.” I sighed. “Maybe I’m not meant to control my power.”

  “You can’t let your magic control you, Princess,” Jyn said softly.

  “When you feel powerful emotion, you’re allowing yourself to be vulnerable,” Izoryian offered. “You need to allow yourself this in other times—especially while using your magic. Relax your mind so your magic can focus on what it needs to do.”

  “But what about when I’ve used blood?” I asked, chewing nervously at my lower lip. “I didn’t have to focus to open doors . . .”

  “No, because the magic in the doors required a component and you supplied it.”

  I considered Izoryian’s explanation. “So, why my blood?”

  “Your magic is Myrdin’s magic.”

  I gaped at him, words piling on each other in my mind. Then my jaw fell open. Snapped shut.

  “What?” Camion asked for me, raising a brow. “How is that possible?”

  “Remember how I said the magic skipped your grandfather?” Izoryian asked me. He didn’t wait for a response to continue. “Myrdin was the Elf who gave your family magic. He used threads of his own power to make sure you could protect Nahara until he or Alvar could find Valdis.”

  “Which means?” Jyn asked, brows drawn together.

  “When Natylia’s father never manifested his abilities, Myrdin thought he could cleverly trap him by acting distressed . . . and give him the magic as a reward for his aid. But your mother was the one who heard the calls. Myrdin thought that, as the queen and one who would eventually bear heirs, she would do just as well. And gave her part of his magic.”

  “Is that why I can sense the Scepters so easily?” I asked. Izoryian nodded and I said, “What happens if I can’t control the magic?”

  “I know how to fix this,” Andáerhyn interjected. He moved. Before I could blink, he had Camion gripped tight, arms locked behind his back. Jyn straightened, shooting a warning glare between the other Elves. A muscle twitched along Camion’s jaw, but Andáerhyn grinned. “Save him.”

  “You won’t actually
hurt him.” That grin widened. My heart skipped. I spun toward Izoryian. “Right?”

  Izoryian flinched. “I can’t really stop him. There’s a reason he leads our armies, Your Majesty.”

  My chest tightened. I looked to Jyn, who motioned helplessly. Even if he pulled his daggers in time, he was no help against two fully powered Elves. While I doubted they would kill us, there was nothing saying they couldn’t hurt us a little.

  Camion winced as Andáerhyn pressed down, putting him on his knees. Jyn’s hands balled into fists.

  “Our healers can reset bones fast,” Andáerhyn said. “He’ll only feel this for a little while.”

  He leaned forward, slowly, putting more pressure on Camion. Soft cracks sounded and my heart thundered in my ears. I looked down, met Camion’s eyes for half a second, saw the pain that lined them—but also the tolerance. He would do what was needed, and that wasn’t acceptable. This wasn’t acceptable.

  Heat exploded, spreading through my chest, my arms. Purple and blue swirled around my body. Andáerhyn’s eyes widened seconds before I lifted my palm, focusing my magic. Pain tore through my side.

  Andáerhyn launched backward, harder than Jyn had, slamming into the far wall. Even the white padding didn’t soften the blow much and the Elf slumped to the floor. Izoryian’s eyes were wide as I ran to Camion, searching for injury. He shook his head.

  “I’m fine, Tyli. Thank you. Andáerhyn though . . .”

  We lifted our heads to where the Elf stirred slowly. Jyn strode to him, offering a hand up. The muscular Elf cast disbelieving eyes between us.

  “Maybe next time you don’t threaten someone she loves,” Izoryian said coolly. I blinked at the word, cheeks heating as I helped Camion to his feet.

  “She was motivated, no?” Andáerhyn laughed, a deep sound that shook his chest. He ran fingers through his dark brown hair, leveling appraising eyes on me. “You could be incredible defensively. If we had the time to teach you.” He looked at Jyn. “Have you been training her?”

  Jyn shook his head. “She’s been working with Camion for a couple of years.”

  Andáerhyn stepped toward Camion and offered his hand. “No hard feelings?”

  “No hard feelings,” Camion said, accepting the handshake, though I looped my arm protectively through his.

  “No games,” Izoryian said. “Take Jyn’s dagger.”

  “The ones in his boots?” I asked. “I don’t want to risk hurting him.”

  The Elf Lord wave a hand nonchalantly. “Concentrate, then.”

  I tightened my hold on Camion’s arm. Pushed down the panic that rose in my chest, the fear. Breathed, slowly, in measured beats. Jyn stood statuesque, waiting and watching as the glittering magic returned to my skin. My eyes locked onto his boots, at the dagger hilt that barely peeked out. I ignored the pounding in my head, the fatigue tugging at my limbs, the ache in my side. Warmth spread and the dagger began rising. I imagined the hilt in my hand, and then it was there, the polished wood smooth against my palm.

  Andáerhyn started clapping, slowly, the sound flat in the padded training room. “Told you I could fix the problem.”

  Izoryian released an exasperated sigh. “This is definitely progress. I wish we had more time to teach you properly, but . . .”

  “But the Titans,” I sighed. I studied the Lord for a moment, taking in the genuine remorse in his eyes. “May I ask you a question?”

  He waved a hand in permission. I hesitated a moment before I asked, “Why are you helping us?”

  “What do you mean?” A frown creased his expression.

  “Elves don’t like humans. You owe us nothing. Why are you helping us?”

  “Not all of us dislike humans,” Andáerhyn said, the most serious I had seen him yet.

  Izoryian nodded. “Most of us are rather indifferent to your kind, though we do find some of the things you do and say a bit exasperating.”

  “So why won’t you help us?” I realized the second I said the words how ungrateful and contradictory they sounded. “I mean, I can’t thank you enough for how much you’ve done already, even if I don’t understand why. But I don’t see how humans can possibly stand against these Titans. We’ve faced Eurybia. We were toys to her.”

  “Understand, Natylia, that the Elves were once a proud, widespread race,” Izoryian said. “We had to trick the Titans to defeat them before. Humans, Elves, and the few Dwarves that were willing . . . We didn’t stand much chance otherwise.”

  “What about Nahara?” Camion asked. “Where was she during this conflict?”

  “Protecting humans. Distracting Valdis.” Andáerhyn sighed. “She had much to do and, to be honest, she almost didn’t survive the fight.”

  I paled, a chill racing up my spine. “What do you mean?”

  “Nahara always gave too much of herself for humans,” Izoryian answered. “She loved them—you. Fighting for you was an honor to her. But Andáerhyn saw her fall and he pulled her to safety.” Izoryian’s eyes glittered in the light from magic-lit sconces. “Valdis was angry. I imagine he still is. We took everything from him.”

  “So how do we stand a chance?” I asked quietly. Camion laid his hand over mine, squeezing a light reassurance.

  “You might not,” Andáerhyn admitted. “But there are Titans out there. Good Titans, like Marinus and Aurial, who might be willing to stand with you. If you can unite the races, maybe you can win.”

  “How, if the Elves won’t fight?” Jyn scoffed.

  “I would lead an army for you,” Andáerhyn said, voice low. “Know that Izoryian and I are not the ones against this war.”

  “But without Eáryn’s blessing, we’re alone,” I murmured. The acknowledgment stung, even as helpful as Izoryian had been.

  “Understand this, Natylia,” Izoryian began. “You’re fighting a war we buried instead of finishing. We will help you, if we’re able. But know that there are laws, and we’re bound to them more tightly than you can know.” A desperation in his tone hinted that he wanted to say more. He didn’t.

  “I still appreciate what you have done,” I said. “And for sharing your history with us. I know that doesn’t come easily.”

  “For me, the sharing isn’t an issue,” Izoryian admitted. “But in either case, the history isn’t ours to withhold. This is as much your story as ours now. Naha—Meryn most of all. Help her. Protect her. But take care of yourselves too.”

  “Thank you. Both of you,” I said, going through the motions of a curtsy.

  The two men before me returned bows of their own, then Izoryian said, “And Natylia? No matter what happens, no matter where your enemies or allies might fall—you’re never alone.”

  Chapter 34

  Meryn led us to the library right after lunch. Her morning searches with Andimir had been fruitless, but Rymäthil and Faeryndûil had assured her they had barely scratched the surface. With time of the essence, and Izoryian unable to do much more for me without it, we joined Meryn’s quest for information.

  The library was down another spiraling staircase, deep in the earth, a chamber carved into the stone that spanned the length of the city above. In alcoves along the walls stood sentinel Elves, silent in their tiny, magic-lit nooks. Every wall was lined with bookshelves, their catalogues stored in massive, well-preserved volumes of their own. Faeryndûil and Rymäthil greeted us warmly. Both were dressed in soft, silken white robes embroidered with lines of golden runes. Faeryn pointed to a long table stacked with tomes.

  “Everything else we could find on the Titans,” he said. Pointing to a pair of green-bound books that sat by themselves, he added, “Those are on the fall of Thastrag.”

  “And this is what we know of those creatures you asked about, most of the notes documented by Pháendar himself,” Rymäthil said to Camion, holding out a small black leather-bound book. Camion flipped through the pages as she said, “Lylitu. Tiny, golden creatures that live in the deepest depths of the earth. Only a handful have ever been seen and most by the Dwarves
. Once they found one, they sought more. They couldn’t seem to find many which, guessing by what you’ve described, is to our benefit. And specifically yours.”

  Camion paused on a sketched illustration of the golden blobs we’d seen on the ground after we killed the winged females. These ones had eyes, though, big, sad eyes that goggled up at us from the page.

  “They’re not inherently aggressive creatures,” Faeryn said quietly, pointing to the drawing. “They are easily manipulated, and they hide themselves by binding to other materials. If the Dwarves carved those figures and manipulated the Lylitu to bind to them . . .”

  “The Lylitu would animate the stone themselves,” Jyn said, yawning widely.

  Rymäthil nodded. “If the Dwarves told them to guard Thastrag, they would. We don’t know enough about them to know why they’re willing to commit to such permanent, lifelong commitments. Maybe they’re compelled by their nature to serve whoever finds them. The Dwarves haven’t recorded anything about that aspect, probably a secret they want to keep to themselves. Can’t say I blame them. If what you’re saying is true, they could be formidable enemies. Not the sort of information we’d want in the wrong hands.”

  Meryn slid past the Elves as she said, “They weren’t easy to kill. Not until we figured out that the Lylitu were what had to be attacked; the marble was invulnerable.”

  “What were they guarding?” Faeryn asked.

  “The library,” Meryn said, flipping open one of the tomes on the table. She skimmed pages as she added, “But most of the books were gone. All we found was a pendant.”

  “A pendant?” Rymäthil’s brows pinched together.

  “Two dragons and a star.” Meryn looked up. “Why, does a necklace have any significance to you?”

  Both Elves shook their heads.

  “Could the pendant be related to the collapse?” Andimir baited.

  Faeryn smirked, moving to lean against one of the tables. We followed suit, spilling into chairs. I tugged another of the hefty books onto my lap as Faeryn said, “You can just ask, if you want to know. Truthfully, we only know what we saw—the four Titans you’re currently rallying against went for Thastrag because they were concerned the Dwarves might be allying with the Elves and Humans. How much truth there was to that rumor? We’re not sure. But we rode to help them. By the time we arrived, Thastrag was gone. We couldn’t find the barest trace that the city had ever existed, and the Titans were furiously tearing apart the marsh. Seryn was destroyed. They’ve only recently started to prosper again.”