Kari was no fighter, that was clear to everyone in the room. But she was smart and had a special connection to the Godstones. Vallich had failed in his duties to the kingdom, he had failed in his friendship to her. She would not fail.
Kari stared at the letter and her uncle’s beautiful script. Of course she would accept. Now it was her chance to make the world better, to serve her King.
It was her chance to become a God.
Chapter 12
Near the Sable Trading Outpost, 8th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.
“Welcome to the province of Sable, everyone,” Aurelia said, pulling a large tree branch aside as she walked forward.
Kuba lifted his head to look at the lands ahead right as the branch snapped back. It whacked him square in the face, leaving him with a mouthful of leaves. He quickly brushed the twigs out of his hair. Kuba had never been outside the province of Reinbeck. He spent most of his time in their village or with his family on fishing trips in the nearby Northern Sea.
“So, we’re getting close?” asked Ion, who was walking ahead beside Aurelia.
“It is about a two day walk to the capital of Sable from here, and we are going just past that.”
“How will we know we’re in the right place?” Ion asked.
“The Freemen from the North used to meet regularly with the Free-Wielders of Azanthea,” Aurelia stated. “Unless they have moved, I know where to go. It’s getting there that’ll be the problem.”
“What do you mean?” Kuba asked, still trailing behind them.
“We need a bright moon, or something close to it. That’s where you come in, kid,” Aurelia said, arching her head over her shoulder to look back at Kuba. “We’ll need you to light up the sky.”
Kuba gulped; her plan relied on him. “And the Free-Wielders will help us get Aunt Evie back?” Kuba asked.
“For the thousandth time, I don’t know,” Aurelia snapped.
“We’ll try, Kuba. Don’t worry,” Ion said.
Ion walked silently beside Aurelia as they continued through the forest. The magnificent trees that had surrounded them farther north were now becoming sparser. They were being replaced by tall trees with no branches and long green leaves sprouting from the top. Aurelia had called them palm trees; Ion had never seen them before.
The soil in Sable was sandier than the soil in the North. And it was hot here at the lower altitude. The intense heat made it difficult to walk quickly, but it was a relief compared to their snowy trek through the mountains. Aurelia was clearly hot, too. She had taken off her thick, knitted scarf and draped it through her small pack. Her blond side braid became even messier, frizzing in the humidity. Her pale olive skin seemed to burn at even the slightest touch of the sun, which peeked through the palm leaves of the trees occasionally. It was clear to Ion that she was very out of place in the South.
He gulped as her arm brushed against his, her skin warm on his own. She turned to look at him when she felt his touch. Ion quickly looked away.
“I think here is fine,” Aurelia said, averting her gaze. “We have to be careful once we get out of the forest; this is tough territory. Sable is under the strict regime of Lord Hectar, Apollyon’s number-one strategist.”
“I’ve heard of him!” Kuba piped up excitedly from behind them. “We learned about him in our lessons. Hectar the Great—”
“He is not great,” Aurelia snapped. “And stop quoting your lessons. Forget everything you learnt, kid. How many times do I have to repeat myself?”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Aurelia mumbled, reeling herself in. “Just don’t ever for a second think that Hectar wouldn’t skin you alive if he found you.”
Ion heard Kuba make an audible gulping noise. He liked the way Aurelia could shut his younger brother up when his questions got out of hand—something he hadn’t managed to master yet. However, he did hope she wasn’t putting Kuba too on edge. Ion’s gaze turned back to Aurelia, who had started setting up camp and was unraveling her thin blue blanket to lay it on the ground.
“Hey, Kuba,” Ion said. “Why don’t you go get some firewood. It’ll be dark soon.”
“Right,” Kuba said, turning to run off.
Kuba had been very agreeable for the past few days, hanging on every word Ion said and listening to every direction. Ion smiled to himself as Kuba ran off. They were getting close to the people who could help them. Every day they got closer, Ion felt more optimistic about their situation.
“And don’t get too far!” Ion shouted after his brother. “Blue blanket!”
“Yup, blue blanket!” Kuba yelled back.
Ion walked over to Aurelia. “Here, let me help.”
“I can do it,” she said as she whipped the blanket through the air and lay it on the ground. It landed unruffled. She sat on it and began taking out the remainder of the bird they had cooked that morning. It wasn’t much, but it was food.
Ion looked down at the blanket; the brilliant blue was unlike anything he had seen, other than the robes of the Skreeh. It was a little dirty, but it was still bright and the threading was so fine. They never had anything like this in the Village of Zar. Clearly Aurelia took really good care of it. “Where did you get it?”
“Get what?” Aurelia asked.
“The blanket,” Ion clarified while taking a seat next to her. “Where did you get it?”
“Oh,” Aurelia said, looking from Ion to the cotton material beneath her, “my father gave it to me.”
“Where is your father now?” Ion asked before being able to filter the question. He and Kuba knew so little about the Northerner that questions were always on the tips of their tongues, but she always became standoffish when they asked her anything personal.
“Dead,” she said. Her voice did not waiver, but the sounds of her swallowing gave away her sadness. “He was killed during the Battle of Burrath.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Ion replied, slightly shocked that she had answered him. It hurt Ion a little to hear the sadness in her voice. She always seemed so strong; it was something he liked about her.
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”
“You must have been young.”
“I was nine.” She sighed, and her hardened exterior seemed to melt a little. Ion did the math in his head. If she had been nine during the conquering, then she would be about eighteen now. Ion remembered the Battle of the Burrath. Almost every army in Azanthea was called upon to fight. It was when the conscriptions started, when Kuba’s parents were taken. It would have been horrific to go through as a child.
“We aren’t the barbarians that Apollyon makes us out to be, you know,” Aurelia said, cutting Ion off before he even had a chance to speak. Her eyes were glossy. “The clans of Burrath had been living peacefully for over forty years before Apollyon decided he wanted to take us.”
Ion sat there taking everything in. They had always learnt that the North was a land full of barbarians. Nothing more than consistent fighting in vicious clan wars. That was, until King Apollyon had taken pity on them. He was inclined to believe Aurelia, though. Sure, she could be a little harsh sometimes, but she was by no means barbaric. Her face had gone back to being stern and the moisture in her eyes was gone. She continued prepping their meal. Ion was still curious, though.
“Were you a, well, you know…?” Ion started, his voice trailing a little.
“A Wielder?”
“Yeah. Back then?”
Aurelia didn’t lift her head from the bird she was butchering with her small blade. “I’ve been a Wielder since I was six.”
“Did you have to fight in the war?” Ion pressed on, inching closer to her.
“No,” she hissed. The pace of her cutting sped up. “Unlike Apollyon, we do not send children to fight merely because they are powerful.”
“What do you mean?”
“He recruits anyone and everyone. Just look at your brother!”
Ion sighed. She was right.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, cupping her hands. “Here.” He tore a piece of fabric from the sleeve of his shirt and carefully wrapped her finger.
“Thank you,” she said as she watched him.
Ion smiled, looking up at her face.
Aurelia tilted her head up and her evergreen eyes caught his. For a moment, she smiled back at him. She coughed, and Ion immediately dropped his hands. She launched him a firey glare and went back to concentrating on the bird.
“Are y’okay?” Ion was asking as much about the wound as he was everything else.
“I’m fine.”
Chapter 13
Azul, 8th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.
Kari took her regular seat in the grand hall of Azul’s court. The building was brand new, built entirely of white stone. The seat was cold.
Kari had been coming to court for years as part of her learnings in the House of Historians. All the Skreeh and Tekera prodigies slated to become advisors to the God-King sat around the farthest-most corners of the room. Today, from her spot behind one of the massive pillars holding up the diamond roof Vallich had crafted, she could feel people’s eyes on her. Her acceptance of the Ascension Trials had not yet been announced, but they all knew. She was the last child of the God-King’s bloodline, her mother having died during childbirth.
Mímrvor’s tune echoed loudly in her head. His energy seemed to spike around other Godstones. He was nervous, which made Kari smile. He knew her too well. Now that she was a possible heir, everyone at court who had ever craved power would be coming for her. Whether it be with favours or bloodshed, she knew not.
The three thrones sat empty at the front of the room. The largest, and most magnificent, of the three was in the centre. It was embellished with the finest jewels of Míastrad and the largest pearls of Sable. It sat atop wood from the old trees in Reinbeck and was surrounded by exotic flowers sent in weekly from the swamps of Granbek. Resting there empty, it looked more like a trophy than a throne.
It had been years since King Apollyon had made an appearance in court. He last graced them with his presence during the Battle of Burrath. And even then, his appearances had been sparse and brief.
Many thought he was reclusive because he had so much work to do, and he could not waste time getting caught up the muddiness of unimportant politics. But Kari knew it was a strategic play. The more he stayed away, the more people wanted him. She was certain he watched every meeting intently, from wherever he may be hiding.
The second empty throne was much smaller. A throne of diamonds just to the right of the God-King’s, Vallich’s old seat still haunted the room.
The third throne wasn’t empty for long. Kari watched as Xenophon strode out from the King’s entrance. The entire room stood at his appearance and all conversation stopped abruptly.
Hundreds of eyes were on him. Kari looked around; only one person was missing. The lowest tier of seats—on ground the level, surrounding the thrones—was filled with Elevenths. Kari frowned at Erikah’s empty seat. Erikah was just as much a traitor as Vallich, pursuing him on her own in a foolish bid to win Apollyon’s favour. How childish.
Above the Elevenths sat five dignitaries, one from each province, all robed in yellow and there to represent their lords’ interests. Or so they claimed. Kari was certain most of them were only trying to gain favour with the God-King in hopes of one day becoming lords themselves. Above them, thirty Historian Elders dressed in blue and red cloaks filled a tier. The remainder of the room was filled with the top Historians, both Skreeh and Tekera who were on the path to elderhood, as well as the richest trading families who paid their way to a seat in court.
Only one person missing, but in her short time in court, Kari had never heard this room so silent. The only sound was the soft bristling of robes.
Xenophon sat on his wooden throne. The detailed drawings on the chair, similar to those on the door of his chambers, told a story. The story of the Historians. When Xenophon motioned for everyone else to sit, they obliged hastily, eager to hear what he had to say.
Occasionally, eyes still glanced back towards Kari, and she shrank down a little in her seat.
“Your God-King has a message,” Xenophon announced. His booming voice didn’t fit his skeletal frame. “As you have inevitably heard, Vallich has betrayed us,” he said, pulling himself up from the armrests of his throne.
A wave of whispers rose throughout the room, and Kari couldn’t help but roll her eyes. The members of court had known for days; a letter had gone out to each of them. They just loved to be dramatic.
Xenophon paced the floor, hands held behind his back, scouring the crowd. “The first matter of the day is this. Should anyone hear or see anything, no matter how minuscule, about the treacherous heir, they must report it. To not say anything will be considered an attack on the God-King himself. And you will be punished accordingly.”
Kari’s stomach felt heavy. The guilt was terribly overwhelming. Was she herself a traitor? Was her lifelong devotion to the God-King worth nothing because of one simple mistake?
The click of Xenophon’s heels echoed in the silence. “Make this known to your lords and subjects with much haste,” Xenophon continued with his head bowed. “Ignorance is no acceptable defence.” The clicking of his heels stopped as Xenophon paused in front of Vallich’s throne, disgust clear on his face. “The second matter to be addresses is the Ascension Trials.”
Whispers between the dignitaries flooded the room. This time, though, they were not so easily tamed. Any subtlety they’d had before was gone, and Kari could feel their eyes piecing into her like daggers.
“Each lord has the right to put forward either themselves or a representative to compete in the Ascension Trials.” Xenophon’s raised voice silenced the crowd yet again, and Kari was relieved to have the eyes off of her. “Each of the six provinces will put forward a candidate.”
“Six?” someone belted from the crowd.
“There’ve never been six before!” another chimed in.
Kari also peered down at Xenophon, confused. When Vallich had competed, there had only been five.
“Silence!” Xenophon shouted. The room stilled as if Xenophon were Apollyon himself. “Six is correct,” he said more calmly. “Reinbeck to the northwest, Granbek to the east, Míastrad to the northeast, and Sable to the southwest. With Azul at the centre of it all.”
“I count five, old man!” shouted one of the more unruly herb traders at the back. Kari caught sight of Xenophon’s scowl and quick nod. Without any words, one of the Elevenths was up and elbowing his way towards the man.
“The sixth,” Xenophon continued, “is Diamonwon.”
The noise that filled the room was so loud that Kari had to hold back from covering her ears. Even she was a little shocked. Diamonwon was its own province, but it only included Burrath. There was still the occasional uproar in the streets. Surely the God-King wouldn’t have agreed to give any Northerner the chance to be at his side.
Then a thought made Kari smile. Perhaps King Apollyon had not intended for the Northerners to compete at all. The God-King must have invited his appointed lord to come home for the Trials. A flutter welled up in Kari’s stomach. Dane was coming home.
Xenophon made a quick hand gesture, one Kari had seen many times. The Elevenths surrounding the floor stood. After a few stray shouts and finger pointing, the room was still again.
“It is the God-King’s will,” Xenophon said with a cool collection that he had mastered over his many years in this chaotic court. “Now that you
animals are under control, we do have much to celebrate. Those slated to compete in the Trials have already received their invitations and one of them graces us with her presence today. Your immensely impolite glaring earlier indicates that many of you have already guessed who this person may be. And you are correct. Kari Sangdroi, Air-Wielder and accomplished Skreeh, the last of King Apollyon’s godly bloodline, has been summoned to the Ascension Trials.”
The room filled with gasps and all eyes turned to Kari. The dignitaries craned their necks to get a better view of her. She refrained from rolling her eyes at the theatrics.
“Kari,” Xenophon spoke up for her hear, and the harshness in his voice melted away. Suddenly, she felt very uncomfortable sitting up in the back of the court, partially tucked away behind the pillar. “Do you accept the invitation to the Ascension Trials and the chance to sit beside our King as a God?”
Kari inhaled. This was her time to prove her allegiance. To prove that the things she had done in her past did not define who she truly was. To make up for failing the court by trusting Vallich.
Slowly, she rose from her seat. “With the skies as my witness,” she said, peeking through the diamond ceiling above. She felt a comforting warmth in her core as she looked to the skies that had blessed her with these powers, with Mímrvor. She lowered her eyes to Xenophon’s proud gaze. “I accept.”
The court erupted in cheers.
Chapter 14
Near the Sable Coastline, 9th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.
“You’re up early,” Aurelia said.
All the King's Traitors Page 10