by Sarah Hawke
She inhaled sharply and sat up in the bed. The cold night air immediately chilled her naked flesh, and she reached down and pulled the sheets back up to her shoulders. The small fire in the bedroom hearth had been reduced to smoldering embers, so it must have been well past midnight. Everything seemed peaceful enough…
Delaryn brushed a hand back through her hair and glanced down at Sehris. The elf was still asleep and breathing softly. Nothing seemed out of place, but the warning tingle prickling down the back of Delaryn’s neck refused to abate. She closed her eyes and reached out to the Aether, wondering if she would sense anything…but she didn’t detect a single wayward magical echo or anything else that might indicate trouble.
“Hey,” she hissed, shaking Sehris’s arm.
The other woman slowly stirred. “Mm?”
“Something is wrong,” Delaryn murmured. “I think we may be in danger.”
Sehris rubbed at her luminescent eyes and leaned up. “Did you hear something?”
“No, not exactly,” Delaryn said. “I just can’t shake the feeling that we’re not alone out here.”
“It’s called the Deadwood for a reason, ussta che,” Sehris replied through a yawn. “Besides, the front door is locked and warded. The artificer who inscribed the runes is one of the smartest and prettiest women in the Galespire.”
Delaryn rolled her eyes. “And modest, too.”
Sehris smiled and touched her arm. “You don’t need to worry, I promise. This is probably the safest place in all the north.”
“We’re not far from Dragon’s Reach,” Delaryn said. “If the Chol are coming out of the mountains elsewhere, they could—”
“We don’t hear the Wailing,” Sehris interrupted, giving her a comforting squeeze. “Neither of us could sleep through that, I promise.”
Delaryn pressed her lips into a thin line, still unsure if she wanted to mention the voice in her head again. There were still so many unanswered questions about everything.
“Rohen could be out there,” she said at last.
“I seriously doubt he’ll be back before morning at the earliest,” Sehris told her, “and if he was, I can’t imagine he would try and sneak up on us. He would probably call out…or inadvertently trigger the wards.”
Delaryn sighed and placed her hand over the dark elf’s gray fingers. “I just want to be cautious. Humor me, will you? You can see a lot better at night than I can.”
“All right,” Sehris said with a resigned sigh that turned into another yawn. “But if we don’t find anything, I’m going to take it out on you—hard.”
She smirked impishly as she kissed Delaryn on the nose and swung her long legs off the bed. They each threw a blanket over their shoulders before they descended the stairs to the main level. The runes on the mantle above the hearth were still glowing softly, but everything else looked the same as it had before.
“Maiden’s mercy, it got cold fast,” Sehris said with a visible shiver. “I didn’t think the fire had been out that long.”
Delaryn nodded as she approached the door. The tingling on her neck was getting more uncomfortable by the second. “Can you look outside for me?”
“Yes, but if there’s a bear out there waiting for us, I’ll be very cross with you,” Sehris grumbled. She rubbed her hands together for warmth, and a puff of frozen breath escaped her lips. “I wish I could have projected a barrier over the cabin while I was sleeping. At least I could hold in the heat for—”
Delaryn reached out and grabbed her friend’s arm just before she reached the door. “Wait,” she warned. “Do you feel that draft?”
Sehris paused and frowned. “Yes.”
“Where is it coming from?”
“I don’t know,” the dark elf admitted. “But before you ask, the windows are warded, too. No one could open them without…”
She trailed off, her eyes staring past the dining table to the window in the crook of the “L.” Delaryn could barely see in the darkness, but the shock on Sehris’s face told her everything she needed to know.
“Oh, gods,” Delaryn gasped. “We should—”
The sudden rustle of clothing was their only warning. Before Delaryn could even turn her head, a crackling surge of energy shaped like an arrow shot out from the shadows behind her and struck Sehris right in the chest. She cried out, first in surprise and then in pain, as the blast of energy inexplicably triggered her Brand. The vatari dust tattooed into her gray flesh flared to life, revealing a glowing blue latticework all across her naked body that instantly unleashed the wrath of the Flensing. Every muscle in her body seized up at once, and she toppled to the floor in a shrieking heap.
The Keepers! Maiden’s mercy, how did they—?
Delaryn’s thought died half-formed when a slender figure lunged out from the darkness and grabbed her from behind. She snarled in protest and reached out to the Aether for strength…
And then felt a sharp steel blade press against her throat.
“Stay still, Your Majesty,” a stern female voice said into Delaryn’s ear. “Your people just lost their beloved king. I’d hate for them to lose their queen, too.”
Interlude
Jessara Kraythe strode through the long corridors of the Galespire with renewed vigor. She had always found this tower awe-inspiring, especially as a child, and watching its Keepers bow or even kneel at her approach sent a shiver of delight tingling through her whole body. A handful of them resented the sudden change in leadership, naturally, and she wasn’t blind to the dangers of a potential coup. But for the moment, she was the unquestioning mistress of the Spire of Shadows, and she intended to bask in her newfound authority until the Chol were defeated and her father reformed the Tel Bator.
Yet that’s not even the reason I can’t keep this smile off my face.
Jessara grinned as she pressed on toward the former Lord Vigilant’s chambers, the rhythmic clicking of her golden heels echoing off the walls. She could still taste Rohen’s bounty on her lips, and she was desperate to return to her quarters as soon as possible. When she had heard his voice in the stairwell earlier, her heart had stopped beating until she had actually seen him alive with her own eyes. She couldn’t wait to spend the entire night atop his taut, sinewy half-elven body. She could almost feel his strong hands on her hips and his throbbing manhood plunging inside her…
Focus. Father may need to know that Rohen is alive, but he definitely doesn’t need to know our plans for this evening. Maiden’s mercy…
Taking a deep, calming breath, Jessara cleared her mind as best she could. The lone Keeper standing guard outside the Lord Vigilant’s chamber nodded as she approached, and he wordlessly opened the door for her to enter. She still found it amusing how easily she had been able to cow Arinthal’s guardians into serving her rather than their former master. The fool had apparently engendered more sympathy with the sorcerers than his own Keepers.
She panned her gaze across the full length of the impossibly high ceiling and shook her head, wondering distantly what depravities had taken place in this chamber over the eons. The Wyrm Lords were notorious for their vast harems—the males especially would breed with dozens upon dozens of women in the hopes of seeding a new generation of powerful, loyal sorcerers to battle their rivals and expand their influence across the Avethian Empire. The females weren’t much better; they encouraged scores of men to battle for their affections, often to the death, and the stories claimed that the most powerful female dragons would often kill their mates to prevent them from seeding any of their rivals.
Jessara had no idea how many Wyrm Lords had laired here in the Galespire, but it wasn’t as though the humans who followed them had behaved much better. Despite the best efforts of the Sanctori, the Keepers had always struggled with corruption. They had abused their power time and time again over the years. Thankfully, she had no doubt that her father’s stalwart leadership would finally usher in many long-overdue changes.
Especially with Rohen there to aid him.
>
She smiled again. Ever since her father had gifted her a spark of the Triumvirate’s power, she had been connected to him in a way that still defied her understanding. The Aether flowed between them like a holy river, and soon he would begin binding the other Templar to his power as well. Together they would form the vanguard of the new Tel Bator—a new army of the faithful fueled by the long-dormant might of the gods.
And she and Rohen would be there, fighting together against the wicked and corrupt. She couldn’t imagine anything as glorious…or as titillating.
Clearing her throat, she glanced behind her to make sure the door was closed, then took another deep breath and reached out through the Aetheric tethers binding her to the Lord Protector’s power. “Father?” she called out, her voice echoing through the chamber. “Father, can you hear me?”
I am here, Jessara, his familiar voice said into her mind. She couldn’t actually see him, but now that she had his attention, she could feel his presence and hear his voice as surely as if he were standing beside her.
“I have news from the north, Father,” she said. “You won’t believe what’s happened!”
Tell me.
Jessara smiled. “Rohen is alive!”
A long, awkward silence settled over the chamber. She could still feel her father’s presence, but his mood was harder to gauge. He must have been as stricken with joy as she was.
How? he asked eventually.
“I don’t know, but the Guardian clearly favors him,” Jessara beamed. “He’s here with me in the Galespire right now.”
Her father paused again. Unbelievable. I don’t understand how anyone could have possibly survived the attack…
“You obviously taught him better than you realized,” Jessara said. “I know how upset you were when the two of you were separated, but we should have trusted the gods and their plan. Now he can join with us! You can empower him along with—”
Is he alone?
Jessara frowned. “At the moment, but some of his comrades are still recovering in Tor’s Crossing.”
Comrades? Other survivors from the Hold?
“No,” she said, bracing herself. “I bring grim news as well, Father. Rimewreath has fallen. Galavir is dead, and the Pact Army was completely annihilated by the Chol.”
This time she didn’t need to sense his mood. She could feel his shock ripple through the Aether like a tremor.
What?
“Apparently, the garrison at Sundermount was wiped out as well,” Jessara added gravely. “Torisval is all but lost. We need to deploy Faceless and Templar to the Crossing soon before—”
How could the Wreath have fallen so easily? Galavir had enough men to hold out for months!
“I don’t know,” Jessara admitted. She suddenly felt little silly for not probing Rohen for more details, but…well, she’d had other priorities. “Rohen said there were more Chol than expected, but I didn’t have the chance to ask him for specifics. It must have been—”
Raw numbers wouldn’t be enough! It would take ten times the Godcursed we were expecting to breach the walls of the Wreath. The griffons and the Pact scouts would have seen them coming! Maiden’s mercy…
She could feel an echo of her father’s consternation rippling through their bond. He was concerned about the loss of the Pact Army and the fate of the north, of course, but she could also feel his shock and sorrow over the loss of General Galavir. That was the only part she found surprising. The death of Darenthi’s most famous military leader was a tragedy, to be sure, but she had always been troubled by the man’s middling devotion to the gods. Her father hadn’t truly considered Galavir a friend for a very long time, either. Twenty years ago, they had fought to end the last Culling, but the civil war had changed everything. With the Usurper’s rise and bloody fall, the Tel Bator had lost much of its influence over the tharns and the White Throne, and the Templar in particular had been almost completely pushed aside. Few in Darenthi seemed to think they were even necessary anymore, including Galavir.
Then again, her father had always been more sentimental than he let on. Perhaps he was remembering the pious hero Galavir used to be rather than the faithless fool he had eventually become.
“Whatever happened, we need to send a message to every tharn in Darenthi,” Jessara said. “The Tel Bator must demand they dispatch every available soldier north as soon as possible.”
Soldiers will not be enough. The duchies are still too weak after the war, and they won’t commit a single man unless we force them.
“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do,” Jessara said. “Once the tharns see the power you can bestow…they will have no choice but to obey your commands.”
That will take time—time Galavir was supposed to buy us. We need the Faceless to hold the line.
“You shall have them soon, Father, I promise,” she assured him. “The artificers are hard at work forging new golem shells, and the Keepers have already rounded up several dozen volunteers.”
Do whatever you can to expedite the process. I am counting on you.
Jessara nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “I will not fail you, Father.”
I know. You never have.
She started to smile but then paused. “There is one more thing. After Rohen escaped the horde at Whitefeather Hold, he said he found the bodies of several Branded sorcerers outside the keep—young ones who had been killed by the Chol. He didn’t understand why they were there and why no Keeper was with them.”
I don’t know, her father said, though there was something odd in his voice. The dark elf artificer was the only sorceress deployed to Rimewreath.
“It is…disconcerting,” Jessara said. “What if the Chol followed them to the Hold? What if they were—”
You must stay focused on your mission, Daughter. All that matters right now is the Faceless. The sooner the Purges begin, the more lives we can save.
“I understand,” she replied. “What of Rohen? Should I send him to meet you at Griffonwing so you can empower him with the others?”
Yes…yes, send him along in the morning. I would very much like to see him.
“Then I shall ensure he departs at first light,” Jessara grinned, trying hard not to think about everything she had planned for him tonight. If she wasn’t going to see him again for a while, she would have to make certain she exorcised every single drop of his corruption in the next few hours…
Before he leaves, I want you to find out exactly what happened at Rimewreath and at Whitefeather Hold. Do not let him spare a single detail.
“Of course,” Jessara said. “He’ll have plenty of time to tell me the full story before morning.”
That may not be enough. Use your powers on him if you must—even the smallest detail could be vitally important.
She frowned. “Rohen would never lie to me, Father. He respects you more than any other man in Darenthi, and I’ve no doubt he’ll be excited when he learns about the power you can share with him.”
Nevertheless, I want you to do whatever it takes to learn the truth. This is important, Jessara. The more information we possess, the better we can stand against the horde.
“Of course, Father,” she said, still confused. “I will commune with you again the moment I learn anything.”
I know you will. Guardian grace your steps, my child.
His presence quickly faded from her mind. Jessara stood quietly in place, surrounded by the vastness of the Lord Vigilant’s chamber, and tried to understand why her father was being so insistent. Rohen was probably the most honest man she had ever met despite his pale-blooded heritage. Her father may not have known the extent of her relationship with his favorite apprentice, but he knew that she had spent plenty of time instructing Rohen on the Triumvirate scriptures. Besides, he already worshipped her father like a god. Once Rohen learned that the Lord Protector had been chosen as the Guardian’s Conduit, he would probably want to hop on a griffon and fly south right away.
Jessara smir
ked at the notion. She was definitely going to make the most of this night together. He could tell her all about what had happened later, after he had properly confessed his sins.
Grinning, she pivoted on a heel and strode back toward the door. The Culling may have been upon them, but so was the grand revival of the Templar and the Tel Bator. She probably should have been more concerned, but she just couldn’t bring herself to worry about the future when the present was so glorious. She and Rohen, fighting side by side for the very soul of Darenthi…
The thought sent another excited tingle racing through her body, and once she had left the door guard behind, she licked her lips again in anticipation of another righteous feast.
“Maiden, give me your strength,” Jessara whispered. “I’m going to need it.”
5
The Moonmaiden’s Light
Rohen was halfway down the winding stairwell leading back to the Spire’s entrance when he abruptly came to a halt. The Keepers outside Jess’s chambers hadn’t bothered him in the slightest—they were probably terrified at the prospect of upsetting their Sanctori overseer—and he was confident he could return to the main entrance and leave without any fuss. By the time Jess realized he was gone, it would be too late. He could pick up Delaryn and Sehris in the Deadwood and get as far away from this tower as possible.
And then what?
The question had been endlessly looping through his mind while he’d gotten dressed and redonned his armor, and he still hadn’t come up with a satisfying answer. Where in the bloody void were they going to run? He had come here to confront Lord Protector Kraythe, but that obviously wasn’t happening. And with his original plan out the window, Rohen had no idea what to do next. Take the girls back to Tor’s Crossing? Head south to Griffonwing? Get on a boat and sail east to Galvia or west to the Northern Reaches?
“Shit,” he swore as he slouched against the wall of the stairwell. As confused and disappointed as he was right now, he needed to remember that things could have been a lot worse. He could have been surrounded by the screams of terrified sorcerers from the moment he set foot in the tower. It was nothing short of a miracle that the Purges hadn’t started yet, but they would soon, if Jess got her way.