by Kova, Elise
Down the hall and to the left was another room, nearly identical to hers. Vi gave a few soft knocks. Zira was a light sleeper. Anyone who made a living fighting for their life and others had to be.
“Yu—” Zira’s eyes dropped to the sword the moment she opened the door. A frown crossed her mouth briefly before it formed into a hard line. “What is it?”
“I have a task for you,” Vi whispered softly. “But it won’t be an easy one.”
“What is it?”
“I need you to die.”
“Excuse me?” Zira narrowed her eyes slightly. Vi had the distinct feeling that if she hadn’t built up such a solid rapport with the woman, she would already be cut down.
“Not literally. May I come in and explain?”
“You’d better.” Zira stepped to the side and Vi entered. Her fingers had gone numb from how tightly she was clutching the weapon.
“The sword needs to be hidden—above all else.”
“I don’t disagree.”
“I want you to take the Sword of Jadar, tonight, and flee the city.” Vi leveled her eyes with Zira’s, knowing full well what she was about to ask. “I need you to take it, and I need you to die in the eyes of the people.”
“So no one comes after me?” Zira reasoned.
“Exactly. We will say you were doing rounds and were cut down by a man in the alleyways.” The alleged attacker would, of course, be revealed as a Knight of Jadar. “I will procure a body and there will be a Rite of Sunset held for you tomorrow afternoon.”
“Fiera will know then.”
Vi had been debating this ever since the plan began to solidify in her mind. “Yes. We can trust her with the knowledge that you are alive. But she won’t know you have the sword. She can’t know.”
“What will she think then?”
“I will tell her we devised a plan to counter the Knights, and they needed to suspect your death. Which isn’t untrue.” Vi wiggled her fingers on the blade and tried to relax the bowstring-tight tension in her shoulders. It did little good.
“And what will I actually be doing while I’m ‘dead’?” Zira asked.
“Take the sword and go to the Nameless Company, visit your daughter, and stay hidden for a time. Let no one there know you have it.”
“But they can know I’m alive?” Zira arched her eyebrows.
“Am I wrong to say I trust the Nameless Company to keep the secret?”
“Not in the slightest.” She grinned with pride. “The Nameless Company would all die fighting before they gave up my secrets… and we don’t discuss the business matters of others.”
“Go and hide there.” Vi took a deep breath. “After a month… maybe two—enough time that things have calmed here—begin to head East with the sword.” The crystal weapon needed to get as far out of reach as possible from the Knights of Jadar. And the East had managed to keep a crystal weapon safe before. She hoped they could do it again. “I’ll meet you in Cyven. Linger near the old senate hall there.”
Zira looked away and Vi could almost see the wheels turning in her mind as she ran over everything once more.
“If I leave now, wait two months, and then head East, there is a chance I won’t make it back for the birth of Fiera’s child.”
“I know.” Fiera was already well into her second term. The primary cleric overseeing her care was fairly tight-lipped about exactly when she suspected the baby had been conceived, which meant Vi’s suspicions about her pregnancy during the wedding were likely well founded.
Aldrik’s legitimacy was shaping up to be a thinly veiled lie. He had surely been conceived out of wedlock. But the Emperor was adamant that nothing untoward had happened before their wedding night. And if the Emperor declared his wife could have a child in less than the normal term, such would be the official truth as far as the rest of the Empire was concerned.
“I promised her—”
“I’m sure,” Vi interrupted, somewhat harshly, “this will not be easy for any of us. But Fiera understands the sacrifices of her position. She always has. And part of why I am doing this now is for the safety of her and the babe. I want the sword gone well before she’s vulnerable.”
I don’t want her to die, Vi stopped herself just short of saying. She wouldn’t risk this world’s failure for revenge on those who had wronged her family. But she would risk it to save lives.
No matter what Taavin insisted, Vi wanted Fiera to live. Her father needed a mother, the Empire needed its Empress. Her job was to prevent the Crystal Caverns from ever being tampered with, and who was to say—perhaps preventing Fiera’s death was the key to all that.
If Fiera lived, the Emperor might remain a more measured man. He might never seek out Vhalla to open the Crystal Caverns. He might even ease some of his brutality in the North.
When Vi looked at everything through that optimistic lens, the future had never seemed brighter.
“We have to do this,” Vi said softly, pleading. “We must, at all costs, keep the sword safe. This is greater than you, or me, or even Fiera. More hangs in the balance than I can explain.”
Zira approached her silently. Vi felt the weight of her stare and was struggling to keep her knees locked under the pressure it put on her shoulders in addition to all the pressure that was actually there. Zira reached out, resting her hand lightly on Vi’s white knuckles. With a reassuring magic only mothers seemed to possess, Vi stopped trembling.
“I will take the sword tonight and go.”
“Mother bless you,” Vi breathed in relief.
“While I gather my things, go and wrap it in leathers for me. I want it bundled so tightly that you can hardly tell it’s a sword at all.” Their roles had switched, and now Zira was giving the orders. “Then meet me down in the dungeons.”
“The dungeons?”
“You remember the way, I trust?”
“It was the first area of the castle I had the pleasure of touring,” Vi said with mock delight. How far she had come from that night. “Let’s move quickly, there’s no time to waste.”
* * *
Vi waited in the hallway that led down to the dungeons. It was a singular pathway—easy to block and defend against any kind of breakout. A guard lingered farther on, keeping watch. Though, judging from his heavy snoring, the only thing he was watching were the insides of his eyelids.
“Sounds like Topperen is on duty tonight,” Zira murmured as she approached. “I was hoping that would be the case.” She passed an iron key to Vi.
“What’s this?”
“A key to the cell we need to get to.”
“You’re not locking me away again, are you?”
Zira snorted. “The time for that has passed. Come along.”
They padded down the hall, tiptoeing into the faint glow of the room beyond. Sure enough, an elderly man was sleeping with his head tipped back, mouth open, drool cascading into the stubble of his cheek. He didn’t so much as stir as they inched across the room.
Once back into the relative darkness of the first row of cells, they moved faster again. Two men slept with their backs to the bars of the first two cells. Vi recognized the cell she had been thrown into as they passed it.
Zira led them down to the far end of the hall, to a black door nestled into a shadowed alcove. On the other side was a spiral stair, and down that was another hallway of cells that led to another black door.
Down they went—three, four levels of jail cells. Each level became more maze-like, with branches of halls leading off of it. Each level was more rough-hewn, carved into the bedrock that ran underneath the Waste.
Vi stared at the countless empty cells, wondering why there were so many. They seemed to stretch endlessly on into the darkness. All too soon, she answered her own question: the Burning Times. One of the darkest parts of Western history, during the reign of King Jadar, when he rounded up the Windwalkers of the East and used their magic for nefarious purposes.
She looked at the sword she was carrying. How m
any had died for this sword? Stopping the vicious cycle spiraling around the Crystal Caverns seemed as hopeless as counting every cell in this seemingly never-ending dungeon.
They came to a stop at an unassuming cell. With her thumb, Zira smoothed away the grime and cobwebs that coated the lock.
“Unlock it,” she ordered, and Vi did as she was told.
Zira entered the cell and went back to the cot in the corner. The furniture nearly disintegrated when she pushed it to the side and they were both left coughing through clouds of dust. But, as the haze settled, Vi could see a staircase winding down.
“A passage out,” Vi said, stating the obvious.
“Not used in over a year now. We might need to get a new cot to hide the entrance.”
“When was it last used?”
“During the siege, for scouts.”
“Is this the only hidden way out of the castle?”
“Yes.”
That explained why they never sent more than scouts. It was a secret too precious to be entrusted to many. And the passage appeared to be too narrow to fit more than a single person at a time—certainly not a way to get the mass amounts of soldiers it would take to launch a surprise attack out of Norin.
“Why didn’t King Rocham flee through here?” Vi asked.
“Because he was going to die on and for his land. The idea of flight or surrender never crossed the man’s mind. I only learned of it when Fiera entrusted me with that key—to save her siblings if that’s what it took.”
“Where does it lead?” Vi peered down into the darkness. It was so intense that not even the light of the torch Zira was holding could penetrate more than the first three steps.
“Southwest. It’ll let me out of a cliff side.”
“Just south of the ridge where all the nobles live?”
Zira paused, staring at Vi for a long moment. “Yes… How did you know?”
“I’m good with maps, and the terrain of the city made it an easy guess.” She wondered if this path was anywhere close to the one out of the Le’Dan estate.
Vi handed out the sword to Zira. With it, she felt like she was giving up a part of herself. She had never felt more vulnerable than when she watched Zira’s hands closing around the weapon. Doubt fluttered through her mind; the memory of Jayme’s betrayal rode on gossamer wings. Instinct told Vi not to trust Zira. But here Vi was, trusting despite every betrayal she had endured.
She was here in this world to bring about the end of cycles. And she’d start with the cycle of people she cared for betraying her.
“I’m putting all my faith in you with this.” Vi raised her eyes to Zira’s. “Don’t let me down,” she added softly.
“I wouldn’t. Letting you down would be letting Fiera down. If nothing else, trust that I will always do everything in my power to see the wishes of our Empress done. And she wishes the sword to be safe.”
It was nearly painful to uncurl her fingers from around the leathers. But Vi did it. “Fiarum evantes,” she whispered.
“Kotun un nox,” Zira replied, and then disappeared into the darkness.
Vi watched her go, grabbing the watch at her collarbone. The hairs on the back of her neck were on end. Her ears were filled with whispers and the sounds of distant drumming.
This was a moment fate shifted. Vi could feel it.
But had she changed the course of time for the better?
Chapter Twenty-Two
There was the small matter of procuring a corpse before dawn.
Vi made her way quickly back through the labyrinth of passageways. She trusted her instincts to lead her back and tried not to question too much. Questioning would make her pause, second-guess, and turn around or change course. Doing so would only waste time and get her lost.
Still, she breathed a sigh of relief when she emerged onto the top level of cells.
“Durroe sallvas tempre,” Vi whispered to mask her footsteps. She treaded lightly past the elderly guard and through the castle.
Out of the castle and across the drawbridge, Vi glanced at the horizon. The sky was still completely dark. She had a few hours before dawn, and before any suspicions could be raised.
Vi made her way through the city to the Cathedral of the Mother. Detached from the main building and off to the side was the city’s morgue, where all bodies were held ahead of Rites of Sunset. Bracing herself for the smell, Vi walked into the halls of death.
She was pleasantly surprised that it did not reek of decay. Instead, there was a chalky, herbaceous smell in the air. A Crone was stationed at a wide desk set in the center of the mostly empty, rectangular room. Behind her were rows of tables on which bodies were laid out. Over half of the tables were empty, but several had human-shaped figures underneath dark red cloths.
“Fiarum evantes,” the Crone murmured sleepily, bringing her milky eyes up to Vi.
“Kotun un nox,” Vi replied dutifully. “Crone, I fear my friend might have fallen today… Do you have any bodies here that have yet to be identified?”
The Crone lifted a gnarled finger, running it down the page of the open ledger before her. Vi was impressed her eyes could still see well enough to read at all, especially in the low light of the room. She tapped a few notes.
“Four are unidentified. Was it a man or a woman?”
“A woman.”
“Three, then.” The Crone pushed herself upward and Vi could hear the bones in her joints popping.
“Crone, please—” Vi rushed around the table, resting a hand lightly on the elderly woman’s back and holding out the other for support should she need it. “Could you tell me which they are? No need to trouble yourself.”
“If you don’t mind, sweet child?” The Crone gave her a smile. “That would be most kind.”
“I don’t mind at all. Which tables are they?”
“These.” The woman tapped the outlines of three tables in her ledger that corresponded with the back three on the right-hand side. The word “unknown” was scribbled by each of them.
“I’ll return promptly,” Vi said as the woman settled back into her chair.
The night was going well, almost too well. But given how it had started with the Knights of Jadar, Vi could use a few lucky breaks. In the back corner there were the three bodies. Vi peeled back the coverings of the first two—the third was far too short to be Zira.
Of the two remaining bodies, Vi decided on the woman on the right. Their builds were similar, and whatever misfortune had befallen her was gruesome enough to leave cuts over the majority of her face.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly to the woman. “But this sacrifice is for all of us.”
Vi went back to a clerical table and grabbed a knife. As she cut the woman’s long hair to vaguely resemble Zira’s, Vi wondered who this person had been. Was she someone important? Or was she someone the world had long since overlooked?
Her heart ached. At the very least, this woman would have dozens mourning for her—even if those mourners were misinformed.
“Yargen bless you,” Vi murmured as she covered the body in the sheet once more and burned away the chunks hair in a flash of fire.
She went back to the Crone and informed her that the body was that of Zira Westwind—that the Empress herself would come to mourn for the loss of her friend and chief guard at sunset. The Crone took Vi at her word and scribbled in the ledger dutifully, even adding that the cause of death was an attack by the Knights of Jadar during guard duty. With that settled, Vi returned to the castle.
Fiera wouldn’t be up for a few more hours yet, and Vi didn’t feel the need to wake her. Nothing would change if Fiera found out her machinations a few hours later. And Vi could use the time to plan her next moves.
Safely back in her room, Vi settled her bed into place before sitting on it heavily. She rubbed her eyes with both her palms. It felt like forever since she’d last had a good night’s rest. But it would wait a bit longer.
“Narro hath hoolo.”
; Taavin appeared before her, and Vi dragged her eyes up from the toe of his boots to the top of his head, eventually landing her attention on his eyes. He stared down at her; whatever he saw softened his expression.
“You were supposed to be sleeping.”
“I know.” Vi shook her head and closed her eyes. She couldn’t handle the guilt of all she’d been hiding from him. Summoning him had been a bad idea.
“What happened?” he asked softly.
“A lot,” Vi whispered.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
Vi looked up at him and let out a bitter laugh. “I thought I had to tell you everything.”
“You should… But I hope you do it because you want to—because you want to save the world. And because you want to confide in me. I can do little else for you right now beyond lending an ear.”
“You do more than you know and I don’t deserve it.” Vi took his hand in hers and hung her head. She’d trudged through a long dark night; she felt like the sun would never rise again.
“You do.”
“I don’t, because I’ve lied to you. I’ve deceived you.”
“I know.”
Of course he did. Two words had never been more heartbreaking. “Because I always lie to you at this point?”
“No, Vi, because I know you.” Taavin knelt before her. “Because I can see it in your eyes.”
“Taavin, I didn’t—I don’t want to hurt you.” She squeezed his hand. “Somehow I had to balance that with doing what I felt was right.”
“I’m fine, Vi. I’ve endured worse.” His grim nature about the fact put a stone in her throat. “I’m more worried about you.”
“For the future of this world?”
“For your own sanity,” he said gently, covering her hand with his. “I love you just as you are and I want you to be open with me about everything.”
“My recklessness included?”
“Your damnable recklessness that might just save our world included.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile that was far too endearing for their discussion.