by JD Monroe
She stared evenly at him, then nodded. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Despite her vow to be stoic, tears streamed down Sohaila’s cheeks as the formation of dragons descended into the Iveron Forest. Beneath the dark green canopy, the silvery stone of the Shrine of Mara rose from the forest floor. It was a beacon of hope and safety, the place she had called home for half her life.
After glancing about to make sure no one was watching, she unhooked her veil and breathed deeply. The cool, damp air smelled of life; the rich smell of good soil, the green of growing things, and the sweet hint of flowers unfurling in the sun. Beneath it was the familiar hum of the Shrine, built on a holy place unmatched in the rest of Ascavar. Her innate power resonated with it, swelling in her chest.
The wind whipped her hair around her face as the blue-scaled dragon descended abruptly. Kaldir, scaled in deep scarlet, led the way with his partner, Azeria, upon his back. How strange it was to see so many of her kind with riders. She secured her veil again as the blue dragon landed on the stone plaza outside the temple. Gleaming walls towered beyond, with graceful spires rising to delicate points.
Clad in polished silver armor, the Shrine Wardens patrolled the perimeter of the temple. Closer to the massive arched entrance, she saw the gleam of blades as they went on alert.
Azeria climbed down from Kaldir’s back and displayed her empty hands in a sign of neutrality. “We return from the Silent Orchard.” One of the Shrine Wardens held up his hand, looking her over. Then he relaxed and gave a hand signal to the other Wardens.
A familiar woman with a long white braid approached Sohaila. Kenzi had been one of the first Shrine Wardens who had greeted her when she walked up the steps for the first time, alone and afraid. She’d taken Sohaila’s shaking hand like she was her daughter and walked her inside to find Mother Akshas, promising she would be safe here.
The older woman stared up at her, eyes searching her. Sohaila suddenly felt self-conscious. She’d kept her traditional robes as clean as possible, but she felt shabby and disheveled.
“Sister,” Kenzi murmured. “Sohaila? Is it you?”
Her throat clenched. “It’s me.”
Kenzi’s face split into a gleaming smile. She quickly sheathed her blade and offered her hands to help Sohaila down. After a furtive glance over her shoulder, she threw her arms around Sohaila. “I’m so glad you’ve returned,” she said. “I feared you had died, but I prayed to the Skymother for your safe return as soon as we heard you lived.”
She leaned into the larger woman’s warm embrace, trying not to let the tears spill over her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said. “I had hoped I would see you again.”
Kenzi extricated herself, then gently tugged at her sleeve to straighten it. “My apologies for being so forward.”
“No apology needed,” Sohaila said. “I need to see Mother Akshas right away. Is she around?”
Kenzi nodded. “Our scouts saw you coming a while ago, so we asked her to wait inside just in case it was an attack. I know she’ll be pleased to see you.”
Sohaila’s heart thumped. “Will you take me to her?”
The contingent of Kadirai had begun the process of shifting back. Hybrid riders were producing clothing from leather packs, helping their freshly-shifted dragon partners dress and steady themselves after the lengthy flight. She pointedly ignored Kaldir as he stretched out his broad back. Pleasant as he was to look at, she didn’t need any further distraction.
Veraxa was already walking up the steps, eyes wide and fearful. Sohaila caught her arm. “Are you all right?”
“Nervous,” Veraxa said. She smoothed her tousled blonde curls. “I feel like I’m going to be in trouble for being away. Isn’t that ridiculous?”
“It is,” Sohaila said with a chuckle. “You did nothing wrong, sister.”
Despite her calming words, she understood. After a year away, the temple somehow felt like home and an alien land at the same time.
The lavish interior of the temple glittered with silver and blue glass in a thousand shades, from the palest silvery-blue to the darkest midnight blue. The heavy, spicy smell of incense filled the air, tickling at her nose. Quiet murmurs of prayer whispered on the wind. In the large foyer, a silver statue of Mara in her long robes stood in a pool of clear water, greeting visitors with an outstretched hand.
Soon, the quiet murmur of prayer was overtaken by the noisy buzz of conversation, as her sisters emerged from all over the Shrine to witness the new arrivals. Sohaila lowered her head, surreptitiously checking that the veil covered her face, and ducked down a side hallway to avoid the crowd.
With Veraxa in tow, Sohaila headed for Mother Akshas’s office. The heavy wooden doors were ajar, granting a glimpse of blue as the older woman paced back and forth. As Sohaila approached, the Shrine Wardens guarding the door stepped aside.
“Sister,” they murmured in unison. They opened the doors further, letting out a noisy creak.
At the sound, Mother Akshas froze. Her bright green eyes swept over Sohaila, then Veraxa. “My sisters,” she breathed. She darted out of the office, meeting them just outside the door and hugging them both at once. Warmth enveloped her as the older woman’s hand cupped her head, stroking her hair gently. Her chest tightened, and her eyes threatened to well up for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Akshas pulled away and met Sohaila’s eyes. “My sister, why do you hide your face? Let me see you and soothe my heart.”
“I would prefer not to,” Sohaila said, her voice shaking.
Akshas beckoned for them to follow her into the office. Without a word, the Shrine Wardens closed the doors. “Sohaila.”
With dread prickling down her spine, she slowly unhooked the veil, letting the drape of silk fall away. She stared intently at the plush carpet, tracing the ornate swirling pattern of white on blue. In her peripheral vision, she saw Akshas’ hand rise to touch her chin. “May I?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said meekly. Breathing deep, she kept still as Akshas tilted her chin up to inspect the deep, twisted scars.
The older woman’s lips pressed together in a grim expression. “We will speak of this later,” Akshas said. Her thumb traced the outer corner of Sohaila’s eye, where one of Adron’s claws had nearly taken her sight. “Can you still see?”
“Yes. I was fortunate. Ugliness is no hindrance to my daily tasks, it seems.”
“My Sohaila, ever the pragmatist,” she mused. Akshas’s dark green eyes were filled with warmth and pity, which made Sohaila want to hide. “Shall we sit and speak?”
She glanced over at Veraxa, who was gawking at Sohaila’s uncovered face. The older woman cleared her throat quietly. Veraxa’s blue eyes widened, and she snapped her head back, staring up at the ceiling with her cheeks flushing.
Akshas turned her gaze on Veraxa, touching her face lightly. “My sweet girl, I’m glad you’ve returned safely,” she said. “After the fall of Auran-Kahl, I feared the worst.”
Veraxa burst into tears. “I’m sorry, Mother Akshas,” she said. She tried to pull away to scrub at her tears, but Akshas shook her head and embraced her.
“There is nothing to apologize for,” Akshas said. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to find you until now.” She pulled away, inspecting Veraxa’s face. “Were you harmed?”
Veraxa shook her head. “They made me help them,” she said. “I wasn’t sure, but Sister Sohaila said that it was not for us to judge who deserved our help.”
Akshas shot her a look, raising an eyebrow. “Sister Sohaila was very wise.” Her words were complimentary, but there was no mistaking the suspicion in her tone. She kissed Veraxa’s forehead and gestured toward the doors. “Speak to Jasahn and have him take you to my private bath. We will speak further, but for now, I need to talk to Sohaila.”
“I was wondering if I could go into the city and help,” Veraxa said, fiddling with her sleeve. “General Iceborne’s men said there were many people hurt in the battle.”
“Such a helper,” Aksha
s said with a smile. “Right now, I want you to eat and rest. You can dive back into the fray tomorrow if you’re ready.”
Sohaila’s heart thumped as Veraxa left the room. The doors closed with a finality that echoed into the stone chamber. Tension hung in the air like thick smoke. Though her demeanor was still gentle, Akshas’ eyes took on a sharper, more incisive cast as she turned back to Sohaila. “What happened?”
“I was on the road to Blackstone, as ordered,” Sohaila said. Her heart pounded. “We were ambushed by the Chosen. Do you know who they are?”
Akshas laughed bitterly. “Do I know who they are…dear, you have missed much. The Chosen are infesting all of Ascavar like a bloody plague. I can only assume the Skymother shielded us from their sight. While Greenspire was ravaged, they never darkened our doorstep.”
“And you stayed here?”
The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “I protected my sisters. I could not risk their safety by drawing the attention of the Chosen. We have centuries of knowledge and power preserved here. It would have been catastrophic.”
Sohaila bit back on a retort. Their centuries of knowledge were intended to help people. But this was not the time to argue philosophy with Mother Akshas. “The Chosen killed Aben and Lezah and took me with them,” she said, trying to keep the fearful memory at a distance, erecting a stone wall so it wouldn’t overwhelm her. More than a year later, she still saw Lezah’s beautiful blue eyes going dim while Aben’s lifeblood soaked into the ground. “They had claimed the Silent Orchard.”
Sitting on the couch with Akshas, she explained how Sidran had been training his Aesdar there. Each of them underwent an extensive process of magical tattooing back in Eldavar, the human realm, before being brought to the Orchard. There, she had helped more than two dozen of them make their first transformations.
“You helped him?” Akshas asked.
“It is not for us to decide who is worthy of healing,” she said. “As you taught us.”
“Healing a wounded soldier is different than aiding those monstrosities,” Akshas said. “An enemy soldier may be redeemed. Those creatures…”
“Those creatures were manipulated,” she said sharply. A nasty mixture of guilt and anger swept over her. “And if I hadn’t helped, they would have harmed Ayla or Veraxa.” She frowned. “You did know that Ayla was gone, didn’t you?”
“We have lost a number of sisters to this war,” Akshas said. “Where is Ayla now?”
“Sidran has her,” Sohaila said. She didn’t like the way Akshas avoided the question. Had they even searched for Sohaila? Or had they believed for the last year that she was doing her job in Blackstone? “I didn’t want to help him. And if he’d only threatened me, I would have defied him to the end.” She gestured to the scarred side of her face. “A week after this happened, he brought Ayla to the Silent Orchard. The next time I declined his orders, he brought her into my workshop and had one of his men break her fingers until I complied. One knuckle at a time. I held out for three fingers, and I couldn’t bear anymore.”
Akshas covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”
“And he has her still,” Sohaila said. “Mother Akshas, I humbly request permission to take a group of the Shrine Wardens to find her. We may still find the trail. I would—”
“Absolutely not,” Akshas said.
She frowned. “Why not?”
“That is not your place,” Akshas said. “You are wise, Sohaila, and very strong. You may sit in this office some day. But you are not a warrior. Not anymore.”
“Then send someone who is,” she said. “And let me go with them. I know how to deal with the Aesdar.”
Akshas shook her head. “You need to rest and be among your sisters,” she said. “And if I may be so selfish, I need you here working on a cure for this affliction caused by the white beasts.”
She tilted her head. “A cure?”
“Where these white dragons go, they leave a trail of comatose victims in their wake,” Akshas said. “We can only keep them nourished for so long. Hundreds died in Arvelor because they simply wasted away with no one to care for them. Their condition spreads through touch, and many were abandoned.”
She chuckled. “If I can solve that problem, would you let me go?”
“This is not a negotiation, Sohaila,” Akshas said flatly.
“I can cure it,” she said. “Sidran had me working on it for his own people who’d been caught in the crossfire. It’s a simple antitoxin with a touch of elixir. It takes a few days, but most of them awaken with little lasting damage.”
At the word elixir, Akshas’ eyes widened. “Blood magic, you mean. This is blasphemy.”
“It was the only thing that worked,” Sohaila said. “The white dragon’s power comes from blood magic. Neutralizing it required an element of that power, too, just like any poison. And if you would rather stand on principle while hundreds of people waste away, then go ahead.”
“Sister!” Akshas exclaimed. “I understand your passion but you will mind your tone.”
She drew a sharp breath through her nostrils and held it before she spoke again. Her heart thumped, the steady pressure reminding her of the anger boiling inside. “I’m sorry for being disrespectful. I will gladly keep researching another method. But it took me months of experimentation to get it right, and I never found a method that worked without it. Furthermore, the elixir has already been produced. Better that it doesn’t go to waste.”
“I do not like it,” Akshas said. “I will seek the Skymother’s guidance.”
She gritted her teeth. If Akshas would let people die this way, they would come to blows. “I will trust your judgment. In the meantime, I will show some of the others how to brew the base of the antitoxin. Adding the elixir is the final step. But please consider letting me go look for Ayla.”
“I will not consider it,” Akshas said. “You belong here, doing the Skymother’s work and healing yourself.” Her gaze softened, and she lightly touched Sohaila’s unmarked cheek. “You need to rest and regain your balance here.” She frowned. “I believed you were dead, and I put Iana in your place on the Circle. I will pray about the right course, but…”
“It’s fine,” Sohaila said. “Let her stay. I would be no good to the Circle right now.” She’d been the junior member of the Sapphire Circle, comprised of seven high-ranking sisters who advised Mother Akshas and oversaw the Marashti as a whole. Just three years before her capture, she’d been promoted to the Apothecary’s seat, serving as an expert on mixing potions and other medicines. She wasn’t surprised to hear that she’d been replaced, but she didn’t know how to feel about it.
And a small, nasty part of her wondered how long they had waited to fill her seat, and how many tears Iana had shed for Sohaila before stepping into her shoes.
Akshas sighed. “That isn’t true, but it might be good for you to simply rest and focus on coming back to your roots. When you are more settled, we will revisit the issue.” She gently touched Sohaila’s face. “I’m glad you’re home. This is where you belong, and you are safe here.”
But she wasn’t so sure about either. Not anymore.
One of the Shrine Wardens offered to take Sohaila to the guest quarters, on the opposite end of the grand temple from her own quarters. It took a bit of prodding, but the woman reluctantly revealed that Iana had also been given Sohaila’s spacious quarters, a benefit of the Apothecary seat. Fantastic. She resisted the urge to ask if Iana had also been given her clothing and her books.
She needed a long bath, fresh clothes, and some quality time with a comb for her wind-tangled hair. But Sohaila politely declined the offer of a guest room, instead heading for the small outdoor chapel. Turmoil swirled in her mind.
The Shrine of Mara had been home for just as long as Ironhold. She knew every winding hall and hidden crevice. She knew the secret corners where one could linger and hear whispered conversations from the next floor.
But her time with Sidran, and the choi
ces she had made to protect her sisters, hung on her like a sticky film. And it not only stained her spirit, but it clung to her like filth, where everyone could see it and smell it on her. She hurried, faster and faster, until she was practically running to the peaceful outdoor sanctuary.
Stone walls enclosed a large courtyard on the north side of the temple. Large glass lanterns filled with pale green everlight cast a pleasant, eerie glow that pushed back the enveloping darkness of the Iveron.
Cast in gleaming silver, a statue of the Skymother kept watch at one end of the courtyard. Pale green vines grew over her outstretched wings, speckled with peculiar purple blooms that grew nowhere else in the world. A large silver basin below her feet was filled with a low fire.
She fetched a cushion and placed it near the statue, close enough to breathe the fragrant smoke from the basin. Her hands trembled as she reached under the statue’s pedestal for the small wooden tray hidden there. Slips of paper and charcoal pencils rolled around the tray. Setting it in her lap, she began to write names on the slips.
Aben. Lezah. Her two bodyguards who had sworn an oath to protect the Marashti.
To protect her.
Both of them were slaughtered like animals. With her wrists bound, she had struggled and cried out in vain as she watched Lezah’s beautiful scaled form shudder its last breath, dissolving back into her still, pale body.
She’d always understood the Shrine Wardens swore their lives to the Skymother, but it had been an abstraction until that moment. Where Sohaila had sworn her intellect and her devotion, they swore their mortality. Until she saw that oath become a bloody reality, she had never imagined the grief and guilt of watching someone die for her. She was unworthy of that sacrifice.
Danerra. One of the Aesdar she couldn’t save. She’d done everything correctly, but Danerra’s body couldn’t handle the transformation and Sohaila didn’t have enough raw power to heal her through the damage. Her breathing was wet as she choked it hurts, please help me, and took her last, agonized breath.