by JD Monroe
When the queen sat, the rest of them followed. Her pale blue eyes were wide with concern. “Let us dispense with the formalities,” she said. “The Firestorm tells me you’ve discovered an attacking force coming our way.”
“Possibly,” Velati said. “We captured several prisoners in our incursion on the Silent Orchard. Upon questioning them, we learned Sidran was on his way to the Shattered Cradle. We conducted a scouting mission and discovered that he has a large standing force, along with at least a dozen of the Aesdar.”
“A dozen of those white beasts,” Halmerah murmured. “You said a large standing force. How large?”
“Hard to say. Pessimistically, I’d say thousands,” Velati replied. Her jaw dropped. “We sent scouts, but they were detected and led a hunting party back to us. We captured several of them and learned that Sidran intends to attack Farath, but we don’t know when.”
Halmerah spread her hands. “You are my war council. What do we do?”
“I say we take the fight directly to Sidran,” Velati said. “Given what happened in the Stormflight lands, I would guess most of his forces are human. Unless he has enough dragons to carry them all, it will take them at least ten days to get here, probably more. As far as we know, he believes he’s undetected.”
“So far from home,” Halmerah said. “Why not let them come closer? We have fortified the city over the last six months, and the citadel has never been breached.”
“It has never been attacked by a dozen of the Aesdar, either,” Velati said. “Your citadel still shows the scars of their first attack, and he brings far more to the fight this time.”
“Taking the fight to them is logistically more complicated,” Viraszel said.
Velati glanced at her. “Since when is that an issue?”
“These are not human zealots who’ve just discovered the Elegy this time, Velatizenahros,” Viraszel said mildly. Velati’s eyes widened. After their spat over Sohaila, Kaldir was oddly satisfied to see him on the receiving end of Viraszel’s scolding. “We would be fools to think we’ve seen all of Sidran’s tricks.”
“So you think we should wait and let him come here?” Halmerah asked. “I don’t like it.”
“To the contrary,” Viraszel said. “A hundred and fifty years ago, we let the Raspolin pick the battlefield. They unleashed magic like I have never seen and destroyed the Cradle of the Sun in a matter of hours. It’s appropriate that the Chosen now squat in the rubble. I will not let him come here and repeat history. There is also the matter of your citizens.”
“Since they attacked us the first time, we have built a number of underground shelters,” Halmerah said. “And the city guards have designated paths to evacuate my people into the outlying villages. It can be done in a day.”
“I still think we take the fight to him,” Velati said.
Farikul leaned back in his chair, folding his massive arms over his chest. “If we can gain the element of surprise, Kaldirah and I could light them up before they ever see us coming,” he said. “Just like at Volak’s Reach. Remember?”
Velati raised an eyebrow. “I remember. But the Silent Tempest is keeping watch over the Exiles in Eldavar. However, we have a number of wind dragons who might help you relive those particular memories.” His eyes drifted toward Lotheraos.
“I’m right here, big man,” Lotheraos said wryly. “I know I’m not nearly as pretty as the Tempest, but—”
“Lotheraos,” Viraszel said sharply. Despite her acidic tone, he just smiled at her, though he was silent.
“Why not both?” Kaldir asked. All eyes turned to him. With the Arik’tazhan staring at him expectantly, the words froze on his tongue. He drew a deep breath. “If Sidran isn’t expecting us, a well-planned attack could decimate his forces. However, the Firestorm raises a sound point. He likely already has plans in motion here.” Halmerah’s eyes widened. “So, why not both? Fortify the city. We know that in the Stormflight lands, he had people there months before the attacks, sowing discord.”
“Reaping the harvest,” Velati murmured.
“What?” Lotheraos asked.
He shook his head. “In the human realm, we questioned some of his underlings. They kept making references to planting seeds to be harvested. They had spies in Skyward Rest, just like he had people waiting in Tahlan-Lev and Arvelor, ready to rise up and start the fires from within.”
“Then we need to start searching the city, asking questions,” Kaldir said.
Velati sighed. “Marlena can’t compel everyone in the city.”
“Nor should she,” Viraszel interjected. Her eyes glinted as she looked at Kaldir. “Rinata, send your spies into the city. Search every inch. Any mention of the Chosen, of Vystus, I want to know.”
“It will be done,” Rinata said.
“I like this plan,” Viraszel said. “But understand that once we make our move on the Shattered Cradle, he will know that he has lost the element of surprise, and so have we. We will only get one chance to catch them unaware.”
“Understood,” Kaldir said.
“I recommend we wait a week to prepare a plan and fortify the city.” She glanced at Velati. “Send word to the Shrine of Mara. We will need further aid if the battle comes to us.” He nodded to her. “Now, let us talk strategy.”
As Kaldir had predicted, the discussion went well into the night as they began drawing diagrams of how they would attack the Shattered Cradle, along with dozens of contingencies for the Aesdar and other nasty surprises from the Chosen. He nearly soiled himself when Lotheraos called his mother a blind idiot for her placement of reinforcements, but she simply smiled and told him to prove her wrong with a better strategy. When he did, she thanked him, and the discussion moved on. And much to his surprise, the Arik’tazhan asked for his input, working his ideas into their plans.
As they planned their stealth run, Farikul sighed. “Are you sure Kaldirah doesn’t want to join the fun?”
Velati smirked. “I’m sure she does, but she has her hands full. She has a family now.” The expression of mirth faded. “If things become dire enough, I’ll summon her. But not until then.”
“If only Shadowbane was here,” Lotheraos mused. A chill filled the room, and Kaldir caught Velati staring at him intently. “It’s not the same without him. No offense, Viraszel.”
“For once, I completely agree with you,” she said, her eyes taking on a sad cast. Lotheraos gave her a solemn nod.
“Well, he’s not here,” Farikul said. “And the rest of us have to deal with it. Unless you’d like to cry about it instead of planning how to win this war.”
Kaldir’s eyes widened, but the others smiled. “You sound like him,” Viraszel said.
“That was my goal, serani,” Farikul replied. “Someone has to keep you idiots focused.”
He could barely keep his eyes open by the time Viraszel ended the meeting, saying they would continue their talks the next day after a night’s sleep.
With the meeting temporarily adjourned, Kaldir followed the procession out of the war room, but Viraszel grasped his arm lightly and guided him away. She did not speak, instead heading to one of the many open balconies of the citadel.
Below the small balcony, the city of Farath was a twinkling blanket of torchlights in the night, fading into shadowed hills beyond. Thousands of humans and Edra lived peacefully with the dragons here. The Skymother had seen fit to make him Kadirai, and with that came the obligation to protect those who were weaker, whether they swore loyalty to his queen or not. Though he did not know it as he did Ironhold, Farath had also become his city to protect.
His mother folded her hands neatly, surveying the city as if it was her own domain. Her shoulders were proud, her chin lifted high. His father often commented that her sheer force of will had crowded out any glimpse of him in Kaldir, who was practically a mirror image of Viraszel.
“Velati spoke highly of you,” she said, still looking out at the city. “He does not compliment easily.”
“
My soldiers fought very bravely,” he said, trying not to show his surprise.
“With good leadership, one must assume.”
“I am not the best judge of that,” he said.
She chuckled. “Perhaps. It does not surprise me that you were successful.” From her, that qualified as high praise. “And the intelligence you returned with is most helpful. We had largely ignored the lands of the Shadowflight. What few dragons remain there pose little threat to anyone but themselves. It sounds like Sidran took advantage of that and moved his people right up the west coast.”
“Indeed,” he said. “Kordari, I would like to make a quick trip to Ironhold and ensure they are making appropriate preparations.”
She shook her head. “We will send word, but you will stay here. You understood, as did the queen, that you relinquished your position. Ironhold is no longer your responsibility.”
He gritted his teeth, but didn’t argue. “I understand.”
“Do not huff, my son. You conceal it better than you did as a child, but you are not as subtle as you think.” She spared the tiniest smile. “You are the leader of the Scalebreakers, and it will not do for you to take off on a whim. Not when you have soldiers from all over this land who also worry about those they left behind. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “Your counsel is wise.”
“Good,” she said. She turned and looked at him directly for the first time. Her bright amber eyes were strangely soft. “You look tired, an’kadi. These last weeks have taken a toll on you. You have more than earned your rest. We will gather again at noon, but until then, be well.”
“Good night, kordari,” he said, bowing politely.
“Good night.”
Give me wisdom, Sohaila prayed as she invited the two older Marashti into her quarters. With thoughts of a certain flame dragon crowding her mind, she’d had a hard time falling asleep last night. In a fit of insomnia, she’d unpacked and organized all her supplies, all the while thinking how nice it would have been for Kaldir to do it for her. Despite her hopes he might be dismissed early from his duties, he did not return.
Behla Mara smiled warmly, looking around the neat workshop. “You’ve settled in quickly,” she said.
“Lots of work to do,” Sohaila said.
“Sohaila Mara, may I present our sister, Irazia Mara,” Behla said, gesturing toward her companion.
Sohaila’s mouth went dry at the name. “Oh! You aided the Arik’tazhan.” She bowed deeply. “Uh…Velati Rimewing told me about you. I would have…my mist…sorry, I’m rambling. It’s very nice to meet you.”
Irazia’s hair was pure silver, with fine lines around her eyes that held the echoes of warm smiles. Her long hair was tied in a sleek ponytail that trailed down her back, rather than the ornate braids of the order. Like Behla, she wore casual gray clothing, with a light blue shawl that evoked the traditional blue of the Marashti.
Irazia chuckled. “No need to be flustered, sister. I am just a humble sister of Mara, like you. Tell us what you’ve learned regarding the white dragons.”
“I will not keep you long,” Sohaila said. She gestured to the simmering pot of herbs on the hearth. “I’m told that Farath was badly afflicted when the Aesdar attacked.”
Behla bowed her head sadly. “We lost many. Thankfully, we had the aid of a human woman, a healer from their world. She helped us save a number of lives, but the methods were slow and risky. During our recovery efforts, we also discovered others who had been lost in the city, many who never made it to our attention.”
“This was also the case in Greenspire, and in Arvelor, I’m told,” Sohaila said. “I was forced to work on various applications regarding the Aesdar. And I was able to create a cure.”
Behla’s eyes widened. “How?’
She took a deep breath. “My first version used elixir.”
Dread prickled down Sohaila’s spine as Behla’s expression darkened. Her disapproval was written clearly on her face. “Of the Crimson Path?” she asked, shaking her head. “Sister, this is not the cure we wish for.”
She gritted her teeth. She somehow doubted Behla would say the same if she was the one afflicted. “I agree. Unfortunately, the Aesdar power comes from blood magic. And like with any poison, an effective antidote requires something of the original toxin. However, rather by accident, I discovered that our blood works in its place. It is not as potent, but it is willingly given, not stolen.” She opened one of the drawers and took out the flask of concentrate that she’d created in the temple. A pleasant gold shimmer gleamed in the deep red liquid.
“I still do not like this,” Behla said. “We do not use blood magic.”
Irazia scoffed. “Behla, don’t be simple,” she said. She strode to the hearth, giving Sohaila an appraising look as she passed. Holding her long ponytail out of the way, she wafted steam toward her nose. Tendrils of golden light extended from her slender fingers and skimmed over the pot’s contents. “Interesting.” She straightened and glanced at Behla. “You know, the Marashti used to teach various brews that involved our blood.”
“No,” Behla murmured. “That is not our way.”
“Maybe not now, but it was,” Irazia said. “When I was training, we often used our blood, or that of the patient. For certain injuries or illnesses, a purified sample of blood drastically increases the effectiveness of our work.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Quite effective for injuries to the spine, in fact.”
“We didn’t learn that in my training,” Sohaila said, deflated at the revelation. “I thought I was being clever.”
Irazia chuckled. “I’m sure you are very clever. After discovering what the Raspolin had done to our people during the Great War, the Sapphire Circle wanted no association with their ways. They didn’t entirely ban the use of blood, but they removed all such lessons from the novice training, and discouraged the initiates from using it.” She shrugged. “But in times of war, you do what you must.”
Behla sighed. “I will seek guidance and determine if this is acceptable,” she said. “I will—”
“You may seek guidance all you like, but recognize that you seek to accept it for yourself, not a sign of the Skymother’s acceptance,” Irazia said mildly. “The Marashti used blood long before the Raspolin were our enemy. And if you have the opportunity to cure the ailing, you have a sacred duty to do so.”
Behla shot her a cold stare. Irazia simply smiled back at her, and tension filled the room like thick steam. “We will discuss this later.” Behla forced a smile. “Mother Akshas indicated that you had served on the Sapphire Circle for a time.”
“Yes, before I was captured and presumed dead,” Sohaila said. Behla’s eyes widened, and she realized she’d been much testier than she intended. Carefully tempering her voice, she added, “I sat in the Apothecary seat for several years.”
“Excellent,” Behla said, nodding eagerly. “We could use your expertise to help fill our stores. The queen wants us ready for war.”
“It would be my pleasure to help as long as I’m here,” Sohaila said.
“Nianna is our supply clerk,” Behla said. “She will get you any supplies you need. I’ll look at our needs and leave an assignment with her.”
“Thank you,” Sohaila said, bowing politely.
Behla started to walk out, but Irazia paused. “I’d like to chat with Sohaila alone. I’ll join you in your lab shortly.” The other woman nodded, then left them alone. When Behla was gone, Sohaila let out a heavy sigh. She felt like she’d been holding her breath for hours.
Irazia surveyed the shelf, then took a silver spoon from a canister. Dipping the spoon into the pot, she removed a scoop of the simmering mixture. She dipped her finger into it, rubbing it between her fingers. A silver sheen skated across her eyes as she slipped into the healing trance. “This is quite good work. I’m impressed. Very pure and focused.”
Her cheeks heated. “Thank you, ma’am. Kordari,” she amended, unsure of how to show her the p
roper respect.
Irazia laughed. “Please relax,” she said. “I’m not a queen. I’m just old. I never even got close to being on the Sapphire Circle, so if anything, you outrank me.” She helped herself to a rag from the workbench and cleaned her fingers. “Rimewing spoke with me last night. He tells me you wish to be a Lightweaver.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Yes. He said you fought with him in the war.”
Her hand drifted to her chest, where she wore a large silver pendant with a blue stone. “I did indeed. But I was young and stupid and wanted to get out of the temple so badly I couldn’t stand it. After the High Empress died and the queens declared war, one of my mentors, Ravira, suggested forming the Lightweavers. I begged to follow her.” Her silver eyes were distant. “I was there after the Cradle of the Sun was broken. That day, I wished I had never left home. The things I saw still haunt my dreams.” She sighed. “Don’t let Behla make you feel guilty about your methods. The Marashti have always done what was necessary to preserve life. You are commiting no crime.”
She sighed in relief. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Everyone has responded so poorly.”
“Understandably so,” Irazia said. “But there is a difference between killing a dragon for her blood and giving it willingly. If our people can tolerate the sacrifice of our dragons, they can live with a few drops of blood to save their lives.”
“Will you rejoin the fight now?”
“From these walls, yes,” Irazia said. “I’m not sure I can handle going into battle again, and I would much prefer to be here and take care of the city. Since Farath was attacked, the queen has made monumental efforts to embrace the Edra and the Vak, and I have taken great pleasure in helping them. I spend most of my days working in the city’s hospitals, not here.” She sighed. “But most of our sisters aren’t prepared to handle bloodshed and chaos. If the need arises, then I’ll go.”