She took a slow step forward and then another, each person she passed bowing as she did. Kari picked up her pace, bunching her dress in her hand, and ran down the length of the docks.
“Dane!” Kari shouted as she reached the end. She stood in the great shadow of Dane’s ship. Dozens of men and women were working to unload the vessel.
A movement ahead of her caught her eye. A man, covered in furs far too hot for the summer weather in Azul, was bent over a crate. He was rummaging through it, and Kari could hear the clanging of metal on metal. His posture, one of complete poise and elegance, was unmistakable.
“Dane?”
The man whipped around, and a pair of beautiful, bright brown eyes stared back at her. Kari’s heart fluttered, and Mímrvor hummed a warm tune.
“Kari?” Dane said, dropping the weapons he had in his hands back into the crate. “Kari!” He strode towards her, arms wide open. “You have grown so much!”
Kari ran into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around him and sank into his frame, the furs prickly against her bare skin. She dug her fingers into his clothing, pulling him close. The day he departed had been a sad one for many in Azul. Kari had taken it particularly hard. The only person who many have taken it harder was Vallich. Her stomach churned, and Kari nuzzled further into the furs. She would not think about Vallich today.
Dane was the one to break the embrace. He held her by the shoulders at arm’s length, observing her. He was only a few inches taller than she was and his hair was different than before. He had shaved it so short his scalp was visible. His soft features and round face were the same. He had not aged a day—a beautiful gift bestowed upon them by the Godstones. The gift of aging just a little more rapidly until you reach maturity, until you reach your prime, and then never again.
His gleeful smile changed to a frown and he took a step back. “Kari, your eyes!”
“Oh, no!” Kari said. Her hand instinctively going to Mímrvor. “I—well we, we have a bond. He…” Kari looked down at Mímrvor, “talks to me.”
“He? Talks to you?” Dane said, looking straight at Mímrvor. Then he shrugged. “And here I thought you were coming to get rid of the competition early.”
Kari rolled her eyes and swatted him on the shoulder. “Don’t be an idiot. You taught me to fight with honour.”
Dane smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I am glad at least one of my students learnt something.” He was talking about Vallich.
Kari returned the weak smile. “I am glad you have come home.”
“Me too.”
“And with so many things?” Kari raised an eyebrow as another crate was offloaded onto the docks. She looked at some of the other northern ships pulling into port, ships much bigger than Dane’s. Were they carrying cargo, too?
“You want to speak about this and not that?” Dane pointed to Mímrvor.
Kari nodded. She would tell Dane about Mímrvor in time.
“Many Northerners were brought against their will to Azul and other parts of Azanthea after the Battle of Burrath. They have nothing.” Dane smiled as another crate was offloaded. “We wanted to help them out.”
Kari’s brow furrowed. “The Northerners aren’t your people. We are.”
“Of course they are. I am their lord, no matter where they may be. And when Apollyon releases them and they return home, I hope I could have made their stay in the South just a little more comfortable. The winters are cold, even here.”
Kari pursed her lips. Dane had clearly been gone far too long.
“My lord.” A tall, cloaked figure descended from the off-loading ramp. His face was almost fully covered by an enormous hood. “All twelve boxes of furs have been off-loaded, and I have arranged with the Dockmaster that they be transported to the Northerners camp.”
Mímrvor began a strange tune as the man approached, one Kari hadn’t heard before. It sounded more like a jumble of words than a song, completely nonsensical. Kari pressed her long fingers to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. This song was painful.
“Thank you, Saxon,” Dane said as Saxon handed him a scroll. “Kari, are you alright?”
Kari had one hand on Mímrvor and the other on her forehead. She shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the incessant noise. She dropped her hands and looked at Saxon. “I’ll be fine.”
“My lord.” Saxon bowed his head towards Dane, and the wind caught the lip of his hood.
Kari’s jaw dropped. She had barely caught sight of his face, but it was unmistakable. Bright green lines streaked his skin, as if his veins had been filled with a glowing liquid. She had heard other Historians speak of them before, about what they looked like, but never had she believed them. Not until now. She watched as he walked away and the sickening tune in her head died out. Then she turned to Dane.
“You brought a Vyvent to Azul? Are you mad?”
“It is not illegal to be a Vyvent, Kari,” Dane said as he read the scroll, probably verifying the Dockmaster’s receipt. “Calm down.”
“Perhaps not, but it is very well known that they are not welcome here. They have been threatening war on the God-King for centuries,” said Kari. “He will not be happy.”
Dane closed the scroll, put it in his belt, and looked back at Kari. “We do quite a bit of trade with the Nation of a Dozen Isles. It is not uncommon to see Vyvents along the eastern coast.”
“It is uncommon to see them in Azul. Unheard of, in fact.”
“You have spent too long locked away in your tower.” Dane’s voice was soft and his face was sad. Sad for her. “There are over a million people in Azul. The Vyvents may be few, but they are here.”
Kari’s chest felt heavy. Perhaps Dane was right.
But no, the Vyvents were an enemy of Azanthea. They had powers of trickery and could manipulate the little things around them. And though the Wielders were much more powerful, there were many thousand Vyvents and only a few Wielders. The only reason they had yet to attack Azanthea was because the God-King protected them.
“The Dane I remember would never have opposed the God-King as you do today.”
“I am not opposing him,” Dane said. His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable twinkle in his round eyes. “But I have changed, Kari. I am not the same man you remember. Distance from this place has done me good.”
“Hmm. We shall see.”
Chapter 29
Spearield, 15th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.
Ion had spent the entire night alternating between checking on his brother—who was unconscious—and hanging over the front of the boat following the sea’s division, his torch flame often being extinguished by the waves.
Aurelia had taken over steering.
When Kuba’s lightning flashed, their path was finally made clear. The Línea Inconnu was just south of their ship. However, when the lightning faded, and the darkness rolled in, it was no longer visible, the entire ocean fading back to black. After Kuba lost consciousness, it had taken them an hour of scouring the area in which Aurelia had seen the line before they stumbled upon it again. When they found it, the Línea Inconnu was so dark it was barely visible, even in the torchlight.
Ion left his post and went to check on Kuba. He knelt over his brother, his ear over Kuba’s mouth, to listen to his breathing. It was faint, but it was steady. Ion gently grabbed Kuba’s shoulder and shook him lightly. Kuba’s eyes did not open.
“Come on, Kuba,” he said under his breath. Ion willed his little brother to move. He had lost his parents. He could not lose Kuba, too.
A soft hand fell upon his shoulder. Ion turned to see Aurelia hovering above him.
“He is strong,” she said with a faint smile. “He will make it.”
Ion nodded in response.
“Dawn is breaking to the east.”
He peered back in the direction from which they’d come from. They were so far out they had lost any sight of the mainland hours ago. The sky to the east was no longer black, but a deep p
urple.
“What do we do?” Ion asked.
“The path is only shown at night,” Aurelia mumbled. “The tide will change at dawn. We could overshoot it if we follow the path after daybreak. We must make it before then or I fear everything we have done tonight may have been for nothing.”
Ion looked back at Kuba. He could not let his brother’s bravery have been in vain. He shot up, and they both rushed to their posts.
Aurelia went from steering to sailing with an unrelenting determination. Occasionally, Ion would turn back to catch a glimpse of how she masterfully handled the sails. He was unsure if she had ever sailed before, being from the North. But she was undoubtedly good at it—or at least better than he was.
Ion kept an eye on the rising sun. As the horizon turned to pink and the entire sky lightened to a dark blue, the Línea Inconnu became visible without the torch. He was relieved to lower his achy arms, but there was no time for rest. As soon as he was no longer needed for direction, he was on the sails so Aurelia could focus on steering.
She barked orders at him, and he complied. They had the ship going faster than it had all night, but still, there was nothing.
As the sun began to peak over the horizon, the golden rays shot out across the sea.
“What’s that?” said Aurelia, her hand pointing forward to the west.
Ion squinted and scanned the western horizon, but he couldn’t see anything.
“There,” she said, “to the southwest. Follow the Línea.”
He narrowed his eyes again, but there was still nothing, until… “I see it!” he yelled. A tiny speck appeared on the horizon. Ion turned to Aurelia, and she was looking straight at him, beaming. He returned the smile.
Aurelia had never seen a rock like the one they were approaching. It shot out of the ground like a giant shield and was surrounded by a sandy beach. The rock itself was a dark onyx, glimmering in the light of the early morning sun.
Her heart pounded with anticipation, but her mind was at ease. This had been her goal for so long. The tightness she experienced since the day she had witnessed her father’s murder seemed to loosen.
She could finally breathe, finally feel safe. She turned to look at the back of the boat and smiled. Ion was tending to Kuba. She had tried to make it on her own, but had never been successful. There had always been a snag, always something she could not get by.
There was always something to fear.
Aurelia tilted her head down and stared at the wooden deck. She had always thought herself so brave, that she had never needed help from anybody. It turned out she did. She had needed Ion and Kuba—and even Vincent—to get here. She looked up and smiled at the brothers. And they needed her.
The coil in her stomach suddenly tightened again. They had told her they needed her to help rescue their family, and she had turned them down. Her throat dried up and her heart sank.
She turned back to face the rapidly approaching rock. This was her dream: being here, being safe, being home. And now, Ion and Kuba—her friends, the people who helped make her dream come true—needed her. But it was a suicide mission. They’d been lucky enough just to make it here. She clutched the banister and looked at her hands. She would have to convince them to stay here with her. She sighed deeply and lifted her head. The rock was upon them.
“Take in sail,” she said, pushing off the banister and moving to the wheel. She watched as Ion left his brother’s side to follow her orders. He did so without question. Ion had proven to be a truly loyal friend. I won’t be able to reciprocate that friendship, she thought.
The hull of the small boat scraped the sandy bottom of the ocean, knocking Aurelia off balance. The beach was only a few feet away. They floated forward as much as they could.
The boat came to a halt.
“We’ll have to walk from here,” she said.
“I’ll hop out first,” Ion said. “Can you pass him to me?”
Aurelia nodded. As she walked over to pick up Kuba, she heard Ion splash into the water. She scooped the peaceful-looking boy into her arms; he was heavier than he looked.
She walked over to the side of the boat with a small opening in the banister. Ion was waiting with his arms outstretched. She struggled as she crouched down and passed Kuba to Ion, who cradled him gently.
Aurelia jumped off the boat, splashing water everywhere. The memory of the gargantuan wave Vincent used to save them flashed in her mind.
The water was up to her waist, but quickly became shallow as they waded towards the shore.
“Present yourselves!” a voice rang out. It had a melodic ring to it. Aurelia scoured the beach for its source.
“Up there,” said Ion, nudging his chin towards the top of the rock.
She tilted her head up and saw a woman atop of the massive rock formation. Her white dress flapped in the early morning breeze. The sun reflecting off the rock beneath her feet seeming to envelop her in an effervescent glow. Aurelia’s chest felt as though it was swelling. She began to wade faster through the water. They were finally here.
“Aurelia of Burrath,” she said. “With Kuba and Ion of Zar. We seek refuge.”
“Aurelia of Burrath and Ion and Kuba of Zar, you have reached the Isle of Spearield. I am Elara, Leader of the Free-Wielders.” Her voice rang out to the beat of the ocean waves. “Welcome.”
Elara, the woman who had greeted them on the shore, sat across the table from the two of them while Kuba rested in the bed upstairs. It made Ion uneasy, his brother being so far. Two of her advisors, Robert and Samantha, were on either side of her.
“I do apologize,” said Elara, “but you must understand that we have to question all new arrivals before we allow them into our home.”
“We understand,” Aurelia said eagerly.
Ion glanced over at Aurelia, who seemed truly happy to be here. Her smile had not faded since they made landfall.
“Lovely,” she said. “Let’s get started then, shall we?”
“How could you have possibly gotten here without a bright moon?” Samantha asked.
Ion was immediately taken aback by her abrasiveness. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked to Aurelia for some sort of signal on how to respond.
Elara spoke next. “My advisors generally do the questioning. Please answer them as you would me.”
Ion looked over to Aurelia again. She gave him a subtle nod before he spoke. “My brother,” Ion said. “He is a Lightning-Wielder. He lit the sky up for us.”
Elara raised an eyebrow and nodded.
“And you two are Wielders as well?” Samantha said.
“I’m not,” said Ion, and he couldn’t help but notice the slight bitterness in his voice.
“But I am,” said Aurelia, leaning forward in her chair. “A Fire-Wielder.”
“Wait,” Robert said. “A Fire-Wielder from Burrath?”
Aurelia nodded.
“My child,” Elara said, leaning forward in her chair and placing her chin between her delicate fingers. “Are you the daughter of Wolfmere?”
Aurelia visibly winced at the name and nodded. Ion leaned back into his chair in disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly. This was something he could confront her about in private. He wouldn’t risk not getting onto this island over Aurelia’s lies.
“I am so sorry for your loss,” Elara said. “He was our ally, and if you are his kin, we welcome you. Samantha, Robert, let’s leave them be. It has been a long journey. We will leave you to rest here for a while until we find a place for you to stay. We should be back shortly.”
Ion nodded slowly as they got up, perplexed by why the questioning was cut short. He watched them closely and waited for all three to leave the room. The door clicked behind them.
“Wolfmere?” Ion said. His chair screeched against the stone floor as he turned to face Aurelia. “When were you going to drop that one?”
“I’m sorry,” Aurelia said, hunching over.
“Sorry?” he said
, leaning towards Aurelia. “This is a bit of a shock, y’know. Probably something you should’ve mentioned.”
Aurelia was silent for a moment. “It is not something I enjoy talking about,” she croaked.
They had learnt about Wolfmere in their lessons, though briefly. The leader of the Burrath’s forces. An enemy to Azanthea and peace itself. Cruel and merciless. Was he really any of those things? Was Aurelia? A brief knock on the door interrupted Ion’s thoughts.
“Sorry to disturb,” Elara said, “but we found a place for you much faster than we thought. Robert and his husband, Gentry, are more than happy to host you until we can build you a place of your own.”
“Thank you,” Ion said quietly, not turning away from the heiress of the north.
Chapter 30
Spearield, Evening of the 15th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.
Kuba emerged from the forested area with Ion and Aurelia at his side. The thin strip of beach connecting the main part of the island to the shield-like rock was lit up on either side with elegantly engraved torches. The purple-blue sky was sparkling, but the flickering of the fire added a warmth to this unknown place.
Kuba huffed as they crossed the sand. He had woken in the early afternoon—to Ion’s great joy—and was still exhausted. There was something else too though; he felt different. Even though he was tired, he felt powerful. Like the day after a long hunt with his uncle: sore but strong. Just like Vincent had said.
He pushed forward through the sand.
At the other end of the pathway, it looked as though all the inhabitants of the island had gathered in front of Elara’s hut. There were several long tables set with crisp white linens and sparkling silverware. Beautiful forested decorations hung on lines that ran from the top of the hut down to the sand where they were pegged into place. A large bonfire was burning at the base of the sandy channel.
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