by Kova, Elise
“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Vi knew what he was about to say before he said it. It was a discussion that was creeping up more by the day. “You have the sword, Fiera has trusted you to hide it—you can leave.”
“If I leave too quickly, people will notice and might suspect I have the sword.”
“It’s been months since the wedding.”
“And all it takes is one suspicious act.” Vi gave him a tired smile. “Weren’t you the one telling me to be cautious?” She stepped behind a folding screen set before her closet, changing into a nightgown as she spoke.
Taavin averted his eyes. “I am, but at a certain point, inaction is just as risky.”
“Make up your mind.” Vi emerged from behind the screen with another yawn.
“At some point, you’ll have to take the sword and go.”
“I know. But I’ll do it when the time is right. And that time isn’t tonight.”
“Yes, I’ll let you sleep.” Taavin walked over, cupping her cheek thoughtfully. His eyes scanned her face. “Do try to get some rest tonight. You look exhausted.”
“I will.” The lie cut her gums on the way out. The smile that followed it hurt more.
“Sleep well.” Taavin leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, vanishing before he could lean away.
Vi stared at where he’d just been, steeping in the guilt. It wasn’t the right time to take the sword away. And it wasn’t the right time to get some sleep.
She went back behind the screen, changing into dark clothes and grabbing a blood red hood that matched Adeem’s description of the robes worn by the men and women who attended Twintle’s meetings. This way, she could blend in without need of an illusion. Vi wanted both hands free in case she needed to use her Lightspinning when she entered into the lion’s den.
Twintle had returned from his travels a week ago and Vi had been perching herself on a rooftop several down from his warehouse each night since. She suspected he’d call a meeting sooner rather than later and she wanted to be ready the second he did.
Her feet knew the way to the docks by heart. She’d practiced the route to and from the warehouse each night. She knew that when the time came, she would want to be able to run through the back alleys and keep off the main roads without second-guessing herself.
Tonight, she sank into the shadows of an alleyway as two men caught her eye—Twintle and Luke. They spoke to each other in hushed and hurried tones on their way to the dock, though Vi couldn’t make out any individual words. Vi waited until they were down the road before hurrying through a back alley to lean against the corner of a building to watch them proceed. The men were none the wiser to the woman following in their wake.
She took the back way around Twintle’s warehouse. There was only one entrance and exit, so Vi waited, crouched low, listening to the murmuring voices within and the footsteps approaching without.
Every man and woman uttered a soft phrase, “Rulliad,” before being permitted entry.
Rulliad meant loyalty in the language of old Mhashan. Really… one would think they would be more creative than that when it came to their passwords. Still, it made things easy.
Vi yanked the hood she’d fashioned over her head.
With nothing to protect her but confidence and trust in her magical skills, Vi strode to the entrance. Neither of the guards were the ones Vi met when she had come with Deneya, which made her wonder how often Twintle’s paranoia had him changing his hired swords. She hoped she and Deneya’s inspection hadn’t cost the others their jobs… but didn’t linger on the thought.
She had more important concerns.
“Good evening,” one of the guards said in Southern Common.
“Rulliad,” Vi replied without preamble. He gave a nod and she walked in.
Everyone gathered around the mostly open area with the stacks of crates. There wasn’t much mingling and most people kept to themselves. Not one person had lowered their hood, which made it easy for Vi to remain hidden.
“We’ll begin in another two minutes—we’re waiting on just one more,” Twintle said, stepping forward. He and Luke were the only two people who had lowered their hoods. Likely because everyone knew exactly who was behind the organization of this meeting. But there was safety in anonymity among the rest of the members—they couldn’t out each other if captured.
As soon as one more man entered, Twintle began as promised.
“I know it has been some time since we all last met. But today I come to you with exciting tidings.” Twintle turned to address the crowd in full. “I left our beloved city of Norin and returned to the Waste. There, I communed with the people we fight for. Those who still stand with the Mhashan we have always known.
“Here in this city, they call us extremists. Those beyond these walls see that if we are extreme, we are only extreme in our love for this land. Those beyond these walls stand by us, cheer us on, to stand by our rich heritage. Those beyond call us heroes.”
“Don’t be taken in by Solaris!” a man from across the room called out.
“Yes, yes my brothers and sisters, we are the ones impervious to the allure of Solaris lies. Solaris claims they stand for the West, but they are making the West poor with their demands of tithing to pay for the remnants of their war. They are the ones making the West weak by sending our girls and boys south to fight for their cities of stone and ice.”
“We shall stand against them!” another called.
The whole room was being worked into a frenzy by Twintle’s words. People shifted in place. Murmurs of support grew to outright cheers.
“We shall be the ones to stand against Solaris tyranny!” Luke stepped forward. “We shall be the ones who honor our oath to defend the poor. To upkeep tradition. And to honor the sacrifices of all those who came before us.”
“But we cannot do this with our glorious fervor alone.” Twintle’s voice dropped to a hush and everyone hung on his next words. Vi had never seen an orator quite like him. It was more than the skill of a virtuoso musician. Every man and woman Twintle had gathered was their own instrument, and he could play the orchestra. “To restore Mhashan to its former glory, we need a power that affirms our divine right.”
More whispers, all resounding to an eerily soft chant, as if everyone gathered was under some kind of spell. A single word passed from person to person in hushed tones: sword.
“Yes, we need the Sword of Jadar. The sword once bestowed by King Jadar on his magickless son. The sword that was destined to defend Mhashan. We are its rightful owners now that the blood-traitor princess has turned her back on our ways. And with the sword’s power, we can restore the throne to someone befitting of its honor. We will not be like the coward whore to the sun. We will unlock the power it was made to unleash on this world and with that power we will liberate ourselves from the tyranny of Solaris.”
Applause, cheers. Vi watched as some men got so overwhelmed with excitement they nearly threw off their hoods. It was a type of spell that had just as much power as Yargen’s words. Though Vi found herself immune. She watched it all unfold, trying to detach herself from the situation.
Yet in the back of her mind… a bonfire of rage burned for all the hatred and hurt these words would sow.
“You’ve made progress on the sword, then?” a man asked, more skeptical than Vi expected.
“I have,” Twintle said proudly. “With this last trip to our brothers and sisters in the Waste, we have established a network that stretches far beyond this city. We have amassed wealth. And, in this, I have procured access to the one person who can steal from Solaris—the one person who has evaded Tiberus ever since she cut down his father and stole his family’s treasure.”
“You’re mad,” a man near Vi murmured. No one but her seemed to hear.
Twintle was mad. Because if he was talking about the one person Vi was thinking of, it would mean he had made a deal with—
“Adela,” Twintle finished her thought. The fir
es that had been burning in the back of her mind crackled against her clenched and shaking fists.
“The bane of the seas?”
“The pirate queen?” another gasped.
“Yes, the pirate queen,” Twintle proclaimed, glaring around the room as if challenging anyone to move or speak against him. No one did. “Sometimes, the enemy of our enemy is our friend. Adela will gladly help us strike against Solaris. She has even reduced her rate for the delight of this job.”
“You would trust the sword to a pirate?”
“She’ll just take it,” Vi mumbled. Luckily no one heard. None of them had ever dealt with a force like Adela Lagmir before and it showed. Adela would gladly take the job, pocket every Western ruby she was likely demanding of them, and take the crystal sword for herself if she even had an inkling of the power it held. The mental image of the Knights scrambling to get it back—of them being betrayed like her family had been—delighted her like a black flame, dark and burning.
“She will lend us the help of her crew. Through them, she will provide knowledge and manpower with the wild magicks of the Crescent Continent. We shall steal the sword back when it is being transported to the South with the Imperial party. From there, it is not far to the Crystal Caverns.” Twintle held up a worn journal. Vi squinted but she couldn’t make out the writing. “I have procured the writings on Jadar’s search for Windwalkers, about his belief that the sword could unlock enough power to see Mhashan rule for millennia to come. This is only a fraction of what was collected from the Burning Times, but it will be enough that we can access the true fount of power in the depths of the Crystal—”
Twintle paused, lowering his hand slowly. All eyes were dragged to the doorway where Twintle was now focused. There a man stood, leaning against a crate, panting heavily.
“Forgive me, brothers and sisters, for my delay,” he huffed. “I was—”
Twintle held up a hand, stopping him. His eyes swung across the room, lips moving in a silent count.
“Bar the doors,” Twintle commanded, deathly quiet. “There is a stranger hiding among us.”
Everyone looked around and Vi did the same, not wanting to be easily identifiable as the odd one out. She could use durroe to hide herself. No, they’d already accounted for her. They’d launch a search if the count was off now. But they wouldn’t find her if her illusion was solid enough.
“We are the sword—” Twintle started loudly.
“That stands against the darkness!” Everyone answered boldly, proudly, and in unison.
“Her,” a man next to Vi shouted, approaching. “She didn’t say anything.”
“You there, lower your hood,” Twintle demanded.
“Tell us your name,” the man asked.
“My name?” Vi said softly, looking up at him through her eyelashes and past the edge of her hood. She should run. She should get out of there as quickly as possible—Vi had her information on what the Knights’ next move was and they still didn’t know who she was. This could still be salvaged without taking too many actions that risked fate.
But something rooted her to the spot. The spark that had been crackling within her was ready to ignite into flames. And as she gazed up into the eyes of this spiteful man—a man who would kill everyone she’d ever loved if given the chance—something within her snapped with an audible crack.
“Your name.” The man reached for her hood, catching hair with fabric. But she didn’t cry out in pain. She didn’t even give any indication he was hurting her. She calmly met the eyes of the Knight she was about to kill.
“My name is juth calt,” Vi whispered darkly.
He shuddered, stumbled, and fell back—dead before he hit the floor. Several other Knights jumped away and drew their swords. These were men trained in war. They weren’t about to be swayed so easily.
The first lunged for her and she just stared at him, smiling.
“Mysst xieh,” Vi hissed. The words blurred together, but a shield of brilliant light sparked in the air before his blade could hit her. Vi ignited flames around the shield with a thought. He stumbled backward.
“What sorcery is this?” The man looked at his sword as though it had betrayed him and blinked at where the fire had been.
“The sorcery of the Mother.” Vi waved a hand and cast an arc of fire around her. It burned white hot—hotter than it had burned for Taavin. Men and women bounced backward, throwing hoods from their heads, exposing faces of pure ugliness beneath.
The fire caught, leaping from crate to crate. Soon, the warehouse would be up in flames. Its contents wouldn’t burn—the jewels would survive. The masonry of the building would endure. But she wanted to see them scatter like rats.
She wanted to see them burn until they were husks. She didn’t care about fate or crystals. She wanted vengeance.
She wanted—
“Firebearers, get those flames under control and get her!” Twintle’s voice cut through her thoughts.
Vi blinked and it was like coming out of a trance. Bloodlust had made her foolish. “Durroe watt radia.” Vi did what she should’ve done the whole time and made herself invisible.
The Firebearers among those gathered finally got control of the flames, but not until after they had consumed a fair bit. Others had already run out of the warehouse.
“Where is she?” Twintle demanded. Nothing more than a small spark illuminated the area. “Where did she go?”
“Father, there was an arc of flame all around.” Luke moved the dark soot with his boot that formed a crescent shape around Vi. “We would’ve seen her—”
“She said she was the Mother,” someone else whispered.
“Impossible.” Twintle approached, blessedly stopping at the line she’d created in the stone floor. “The Mother does not have mortal flesh, and if she did… she would stand beside our noble cause.”
None of the other men and women questioned his claim, though Luke seemed skeptical.
“A Waterrunner must have helped her escape. Search the area,” Twintle commanded, then looked back in her direction, ignorant that their eyes were locked. “Turn over the whole docks. I don’t want anyone to rest until the strange sorcerer and her accomplice are brought to me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
It wasn’t until after they left that Vi’s heart decided to knock against her ribs. Nausea rose up and she brought her free hand to her mouth, holding in quivering breaths.
She would’ve killed them all and delighted in it, even if that meant this world ultimately failed. Some part of her, a part she desperately wanted to ignore, knew that if she indulged in these urges there was no recourse. The worst that happened was the world ended, again. It’d be the ninety-third time. How bad could it really be?
Vi shook her head and closed her eyes, urging the thoughts away.
Yet they lingered.
They clung to her like Raspian’s magic, the tiny sparks of red lightning that had danced underneath her skin after she’d used the tear his magic had made in the world to get to the Twilight Kingdom—after she used his words. But she had also witnessed Yargen purge those tendrils of his magic from her when she was being remade.
These urges were her own. She couldn’t blame a dark god or desperation born of a dying world. Controlling herself and staying the course was on her own shoulders.
Taking a deep breath, Vi forced herself to calm and began moving. She relaxed her spell and pulled up her hood once more. She could hear people moving outside, low voices drifting in through the doorway. Vi crept forward, scanning the docks; most of the Knights had fanned outward and were now far away.
When she slipped out, the nearest Knight had his back to her, and Vi disappeared into the side alleyway.
She ripped the hood from her head, throwing it on the ground and running from it as though it was about to give chase. As though that was the source of the darkness she’d felt. She weaved through the city, eventually sprinting onto the main road. The castle grew in her field of visi
on and Vi didn’t even bother slowing her pace as she dashed by the guards stationed at the end of the drawbridge.
“You there—”
“It’s Yullia.” Vi spun, bouncing from foot to foot, stalling long enough for them to see her face before turning and resuming her run. They didn’t give chase.
Her side burned as she took the castle stairs two at a time—up the main staircase, then through a door into a narrow spiral stair. She bounded down a hall, not far from where the council chambers were. Vi didn’t even bother stalling to check if Deneya was there. Instead, she went right for her room.
The door snapped against the wall, reverberating with a low thud as she threw it open. Vi had to resist the urge to slam it in her haste. Instead, she slowly closed it, locking it behind her.
She raced to her bedside and hoisted the heavy down mattress, flopping it over onto itself. Underneath the mattress were woven grass panels, supported on slats of wood. Vi dug her nails into a panel, prying it upward. She set it aside and then carefully removed one of the wood slats.
With trembling hands, Vi retrieved the Sword of Jadar from its hiding place.
She clutched it to herself, shaking, holding onto it like a child she thought she’d lost. As though the Knights had found it while she was gone. As though she was the one being played the entire time.
Vi cursed under her breath and ran a hand through her hair, trying to get a hold of herself. She had killed before, she’d kill again. Yet something still rattled her about the feeling of how… easy it could be. She loathed the delight she could find in it, the feeling that there would be little repercussion.
Risking the end of the world should be repercussion enough. She’d sworn to end this and wouldn’t let her emotions get in the way.
Staring at her hiding place and reflecting more calmly on the events of the night, Vi knew it was time to act. Taavin had been right—she had to get the sword away from Norin, especially with Adela closing in. A plan formed in her head and Vi stood, starting for the door once more.