by Kova, Elise
“I can get it back,” Vi said, stronger than she’d felt in the past hour. Something about seeing him hurting, in pain, and doubting her brought her strength and conviction rushing back. He needed her to be strong and keep herself together. She was the one who could act and change fate. Vi stood. “I will get it back. I know their plan and I know where they’re going. I heard them talking about taking the sword to the Crystal Caverns at their meeting. Do you think Adela will help them further?”
Taavin, unresponsive, stared at Zira’s cooling body. Vi knelt down and gently pressed the woman’s eyelids closed. His gaze didn’t waver, and Vi wrapped one arm around his waist, guiding his eyes to her.
“I cannot imagine what you’ve seen. I know this is likely one more body on the pile,” Vi whispered. “But I need your help now. I need you to stay with me and help me fix this.” He finally nodded, clarity returning to his eyes. They were both on the cusp of falling apart, barely held together by each other. “In any of my past times, did Adela help the Knights of Jadar after they got the sword?”
Taavin pulled away and held out his hands. He mumbled words of Yargen and power flowed from her watch. Vi waited as he finished culling through all of his memories.
“They maintain a relationship with her, but they’ve usually only had one transaction at a time, then a longer stretch of time before the next.”
“She’s no doubt too expensive for them.” Vi thought about how hard Twintle had to work to salvage enough rubies to buy just a few of Adela’s crew. She looked at the blood-soaked floor again and hated that working with Adela had been a good investment for them. “It’s just the Knights and me. I’ll ride off and intercept them before they get to the Caverns.”
“If you can find them.”
“Good point.” The Waste was large and it seemed unlikely she’d know the exact path they’d be traveling. “Then I’ll go on ahead, and meet them at the Caverns. I’ll stop them from turning Yargen’s magic against itself.”
She started for the door, but was stopped by two arms wrapping around her waist. Taavin squeezed her tightly from behind. Always at her back, always defending and supporting.
“You know just when my bones are rattling,” she whispered. “And right when I need you to make sure none pop out of place.”
“I know you,” Taavin whispered back. “Good luck protecting our world.”
The well wishes weren’t enough. But nothing he could’ve said would’ve been enough. Perhaps he knew it too, because Taavin vanished without another word.
Vi swallowed hard, strode down the hall, and left out the back door of the inn, alone.
* * *
The castle was in chaos the moment she arrived. Servants sprinted from room to room. Some carried flowers, others were clerical assistants hauling towels and blankets; most carried food, to the nobles gathering in the main hall, or to the royals waiting in an antechamber not far from the Imperial quarters.
Vi didn’t have to ask anyone what was happening. It was obvious enough to her, even without future knowledge.
She trudged up the main, grand stairway of the castle. She ignored the inquiring looks of nobleman and servant alike, as if she’d somehow become someone who knew things the rest of them didn’t.
She’d thought that, hadn’t she? A bitter smile crossed her mouth. She’d thought she had the upper hand on all of them. Humility was a necessary elixir for her now.
“It’s only clerics beyond this point.” A young man stopped Vi in the hallway. He wore the usual pale blue of the Southern clerics. The same robes Ginger had worn. “There’s a place you can wait right down the hall.”
She’d seen the place. She’d ignored it. But Vi didn’t point that out. Instead, she smiled and said, “Thank you.”
Turning on her heel, Vi walked down the now familiar hallway, realizing this would likely be her last time. She ached all over, but it was hard to put her finger on the exact reason why. Was it because she’d warmed up to this place and its people? Or was it because it was another familial home she was walking away from?
Side-stepping into an alcove, Vi uttered a quick, “Durroe watt ivin,” and stepped into the skin of the young cleric she’d met outside of Fiera’s door weeks ago.
This time, when Vi passed by the man in the hallway, he merely gave a friendly nod and let her pass.
It was quiet in the Imperial chambers. Ginger had explained the birthing process well to Vi and she’d made it out to be a painful affair and understandably noisy as a result. But there was an almost serene stillness to the air. At least until Fiera’s snappish comments broke the silence.
“Out. Out with all of you, I’ve had enough of your prodding! I will summon you when the pains come with any kind of regularity. Now leave me be to what peace I can manage.”
Vi hastily stepped off to the side, positioning herself in a doorway at the end of a bookshelf. From this position, she was mostly concealed from the flow of clerics that streamed out of the room. Vi waited several moments to ensure there were no stragglers before she continued on to the bedroom.
The Imperial bedroom was as lush as Vi would’ve expected it to be. A bed large enough to fit four grown men was framed by a headboard that stretched halfway up the tall wall. A circular canopy was hung from the ceiling, the gold metal railing mirroring a crown, and supporting bolts of fine white silk fanned out behind the headboard. Pillows were piled high and would’ve dwarfed any other woman.
But Fiera remained imposing. Even amid all the excess, she somehow commanded the sole focus of anyone who entered the space.
Now, her angry eyes were turned to Vi.
“I told you all to get out. I understand what is happening to my body and will summon you when it is time or I am in actual pain. I have been stabbed through in war; I can handle a few contractions. Now, leave—”
Vi released her magic, allowing the illusion to dissipate like fog on the wind. Fiera, to her credit, didn’t shout or cry out. Her eyes narrowed slightly and her head tilted, as though she was trying to figure out what she had just seen.
“Come closer.” Fiera lifted a hand off her stomach and motioned to the bed. “Sit.” Vi did as she was bid and eased herself onto the edge of the bed. “Who are you, really?”
Vi gave the woman who would be the grandmother of a new Vi a sad smile. “That’s a difficult question, because sometimes I’m not sure anymore.”
She looked to Fiera’s stomach protruding like a massive hill underneath the thin sheet. In there was the man who would be her father. No, the man who would be the father to a new Vi. A new family she’d never known.
She still loved that man. And she always would. Just as she already loved the Romulin and Vhalla of her vision, and the Fiera that lay before her. Even though they were different people, they wore the faces of her family. They fit into the person-shaped voids left behind by the past world exactly.
“I’ve come from a time very far away… but one that looks very much like this one,” Vi said softly, bringing her eyes back to Fiera. Taavin had cautioned her against sharing who and what she was—and she never had in any time before. If there were ever a time, this was it. She was already deep in a mess of her own making; how much could being honest with Fiera hurt? “I’m not the same person I was, then. And tomorrow I won’t be the same person I am today.”
“Time is relentless.”
“In ways you can’t imagine.”
“That magic…” Fiera trailed off and winced. Her hands smoothed over her stomach and the pain seemed to have vanished as quickly as it came. She didn’t seem worried, so Vi wasn’t either. “Are you from the Crescent Continent?”
“What?” Vi whispered. This was shaping up to be a night of surprises.
“Tiberus told me about it not long after the wedding. Naturally, I didn’t believe him until I began rummaging through my father’s old records—the ones he’d always kept hidden. There’s little written, but there’s more than we think there. Tiberus thinks there ar
e powers worth fighting for. Tell me, if he does fight for them, would he be successful?”
“Tiberus’s fate is decided,” Vi said as gently as possible. “He’s long since chosen his path.”
She couldn’t bring herself to say that Tiberus would eventually fall to another as thirsty for power and conquest as himself. He’d fall before he ever had the chance to attempt attacking Meru. Though, knowing what she did of Meru, that fact was likely for the best.
“I know.” Fiera’s eyes were sad enough that they said everything her lips did not. She knew the man she’d married. “And my son?”
“What?”
“You can see the future, can you not? Or was it all a lie?”
“I can.”
“Then tell me: what is my son’s fate?”
Vi took Fiera’s hand, wrapping her fingers around the Empress’s. “Your son will live a hard life. But he will grow to be a good man. He will be the kind of man who loves his family and his people fiercely. He will defend them at all costs. He will be the kind of man who will board a ship and sail into pirate-infested waters for the woman he loves.”
Her voice cracked toward the end. Sorrow flooded her and the only lifeline Vi had was Fiera’s hand. She clutched it tightly.
“Good.” Fiera’s eyes closed as an expression of relief overtook her. She seemed to sit easier on her pillows.
“You didn’t ask about your fate.”
Fiera looked at her once more, a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t have to.”
“Have you seen it?”
“Yes—in your eyes, right now.” Fiera squeezed her hand. Vi felt herself unraveling.
“I wanted to save you,” she whispered. “I’ve tried so hard. I’ve tried everything to save you.”
“The Mother has a plan for us all. I’m glad I could protect my people when Tiberus came. That I could honor my family and see the Ci’Dan bloodline live on… it is enough.” Fiera gently stroked her stomach.
Vi hung her head, shaking it from side to side. “Her plan for you ends in death. It always does. I’ve tried more times than you or I can fathom to save you. To give your son the mother he deserves.”
“Perhaps there are things my son cannot learn if I am there.” Fiera wriggled her hand free, cupping Vi’s cheek. “I am not afraid of my future.”
Her expression was open and honest. Vi studied those brave eyes, memorizing them, imprinting them on herself. Everyone told her she had Fiera’s face. Perhaps, through all this, she could gain her bravery, too.
“I have to go now. I can’t stay and try to protect you further from the vicious fate that wants you dead,” Vi said, though she didn’t move. Fiera was stable, warm, and confident even in the face of overwhelming odds. Part of Vi was trying to steal it through osmosis.
“Where will you go?”
“I tried to protect the sword. I spoke true when I told you that it was my sole duty to defend it and this world… Because of me, Zira gave her life to that end. But the Knights of Jadar have the sword now. And if they go to the Caverns, they will seek to—”
“Use the sword to unlock the power there,” Fiera finished. Another wince and another massage of her stomach.
“How did you know?”
“The sword was locked away for a long time… But when the war with Solaris began, my father told me where it was hidden. It was my duty to use the sword to keep our people safe. So I read as much as I could on the old records from the Burning Times.” Fiera grimaced at the last two words. It had nothing to do with her body and everything to do with the dark aura cast by mentioning the long-ago period during which the West captured and murdered Windwalkers in the East. “The records held information on the sword—not much, but enough.”
“What kind of information?”
Windwalkers were the one affinity on the Dark Isle that was said to be immune to crystal taint. Knowing what she knew now, Vi would postulate it was because of what aspects of Yargen’s magic they inherited from the scythe. Or perhaps it was because the scythe had long been removed from the continent. Either way, she made a connection that she never had before: The Burning Times were Jadar’s first attempt at unlocking the power of the Crystal Caverns.
“Mostly how the sword could be used to free the deeper power in the Caverns. But the writings had enough on the power within the sword itself that I was able to fortify the barrier that helped protect Norin for so long.”
“You… you formed a barrier,” Vi whispered. That night of the surrender, she had seen Fiera and the sword—how the wall around Norin had held against all odds. It was more than just the magic of Groundbreakers. Fiera had imbued the wall with the power of Yargen. It explained why the sword had felt weaker than the scythe. “I-I should’ve spoken to you much sooner,” Vi blurted. Guilt swelled like summer heat. If she’d only spoken with Fiera rather than keeping everything a secret, she would’ve had an ally in figuring out the power of the crystals rather than struggling on her own. “What can you tell me about this barrier? How do I form it?”
“I don’t think I could teach you—” another hiss of pain and a deep breath “—at this exact moment.”
For the first time in her life, Vi cursed her father.
“Tell me what you can,” she implored. “There isn’t much time. The Knights have only just taken the sword and if I go after them now—”
“I would if I could.” Fiera squeezed her hand. “But it took me years of study to learn and gain even the smallest mastery of that magic. However…”
“However?” Vi asked cautiously. Fiera had a glint in her eye that Vi wasn’t entirely certain she liked. It was the sort of spark Vi usually associated with a bad idea. She knew it well, because she’d seen it in the mirror many times.
“I could do it.”
“What?”
“After my son is born, I could go with you.”
“You— you’ll— I haven’t given birth before but I know enough to know you shouldn’t be riding hard across half the Empire immediately after,” Vi said bluntly.
“Weren’t you the one to tell me my life is forfeit?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“If it is the Mother’s will that I die, regardless of what actions you or I take, then allow me this. Allow my death to mean something as my life has meant something.”
“I cannot allow this,” Vi insisted. “It’s suicide. What you’re suggesting is suicide.”
“If you have magic that allows you to wield flames and take the faces of others, do you not also possess healing abilities beyond those of our clerics here on the Main Continent?”
“I do…” Vi said hesitantly. Well, she didn’t. Her use of halleth still hadn’t progressed very far. But Vi suspected she knew someone who had a much better handle on it.
“Then heal me, relieve my pain, and let me go with you. Perhaps then it won’t be suicide like you say. Give me the chance to surprise you and fate itself. Perhaps your error has been trying to save me, when I need to save myself.” Fiera settled back on the pillows, wincing once more. “This is my choice. Honor it.”
It was a demand Vi finally obliged. She would do her best to see Fiera’s will done, and keep her alive as long as possible. Her plans might have been ruined, but she had stayed this long to be by her grandmother’s side—no, her friend’s side. She would stay longer.
“Very well.”
“Good. You know, you’re nearly as stubborn as I am.” The grin Fiera wore made Vi wonder if she suspected more than she let on. “Now, fetch me a quill and parchment while I still have a clear head and can focus enough to hold a quill. I wish to leave a letter for my sisters.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Vi hovered in the alcove she’d hidden in before, wearing the face of the young cleric, this time with Fiera’s letter in hand. She watched as Fiera called for the clerics and they bounded through the door, no doubt having been waiting outside the entire time.
Demands flew from Fiera’s mouth and th
e healers began to flit in and out, bustling to meet her orders. Her contractions were coming closer together. She was demanding a draught to speed them further, to “get the child out” of her at all costs.
In the chaos, Vi slipped out unnoticed.
She walked through the halls, waiting until she was alone to release her illusion. Down a narrow wooden stair with handrails so worn by time that they were oiled to a shine, and through a side hallway, Vi let herself into Fiera’s old room.
The smell of cinders overwhelmed her. Every heavy velvet chair and curtain was coated in the scent of incense—an aroma too potent to have faded since Fiera moved into what were now the Imperial quarters.
Vi headed for the bedroom, remembering what Fiera had said.
My sisters and I used to leave notes for each other…
They had a system, she’d explained. Fiera seemed to think that once it was known that she was missing, her sisters would execute a covert search. If either of them entered the bedroom, they’d head straight for the ornately carved headboard.
Kneeling on the mattress, Vi pushed on one of the carved suns and it slid to the side, revealing a tiny, hollow space. She placed the folded-up note inside, careful not to break Fiera’s seal, then slid it back closed. Vi didn’t know what the woman had written. But she trusted Fiera wouldn’t betray Vi’s true nature. Trusted her enough not to give into curiosity and temptation.
After, Vi headed down to the council. They were all gathered in the chambers and, from the sounds of it, Deneya had brought in her spiced liquor for everyone to enjoy. The fact complimented her plans nicely. If everyone was slightly sauced, they’d notice oddities on a delay.
“You there.” Vi stopped a servant as he was about to carry a carafe into the room. “Tell Councilor Denja to step out, please?”
The boy gave a nod. After a few seconds, Deneya emerged as requested. The moment her eyes met Vi’s she strolled over, her pace quickening when she was out of sight of the rest of those gathered.