The Fate of the Tala

by Jeffe Kennedy

  Karyn poked him. “I apologize, Your Highness,” she said. “And for Zyr.”

  He tugged her braid and she winced.

  Marskal cleared his throat, presenting me with a somber expression. “I have to agree with Zyr that the term ‘plan’ is overstating things.”

  Zynda rolled her eyes expressively. “That’s because this is very simple. We fly straight to the high priestess’s palace, pretend to be surprised that she’s expecting us, briefly engage in a pitched battle as if attempting a suicide strike, lose the Star in the process, and flee.”

  “Oh, is that all,” Zyr muttered.

  “You volunteered,” Karyn scolded him. “In fact, you pushed for this particular gambit.”

  “Gambit or gamble?” he retorted, then ducked in to kiss her before she could reply.

  I held up a hand, commanding their attention. “All joking aside, this effort is a risky one. It is a gamble, and the odds are against us.” My gown and hair stirred as the magic gathered to me, Moranu’s hand settling over me with palpable intensity. I welcomed Her presence. Finally. “There’s a strong possibility you all could die, and in the process hand our enemy the very weapon she’s sought.” I withdrew the Star from my pocket and held it on my palm, where it glowed like a smaller sun.

  “We’re sending the dragons with you, and all of our shapeshifters capable of taking winged forms—plus those riders who’ve previously drilled—but their job will be to lure the high priestess into using the Star to attack them, to distract her enough that I can strike. No one will be helping you.”

  “Good thing we don’t need help,” Zynda commented.

  “Yeah, the wonder twins have this,” Zyr added, and they exchanged cocky grins.

  Marskal rubbed a hand over his face and Karyn muttered something in Dasnarian. I gave them all a moment. “There’s no shame in changing your minds. We can come up with another, less risky plan.”

  Zynda gave me a long look. “You would tell us not to go if we didn’t have a chance of succeeding. I’m in.”

  “Where my lady goes, I go,” Marskal replied simply.

  “Zynda isn’t going to hog all the glory,” Zyr answered. “I might not have dragon form yet, but a gríobhth in battle is a fearsome thing.”

  Karyn gazed at him with amusement, and obvious love. I doubted she’d have volunteered to do something so dangerous if not for that.

  “Karyn,” I said. “You can stay here. This is arguably not your battle to fight.”

  She returned my gaze calmly. “Apologies for my impertinence, Your Highness, but you’re wrong there. This is my battle.” She took Zyr’s hand and he laced his fingers with hers. “We set out before to do this very thing, destroy the high priestess in her stolen nest, and Zyr and I expected to die then. Zynda and Marskal rescued us, at their peril. Now the four of us will go back to finish it. This is what heroes do, yes?”

  They all nodded gravely, then all bowed to me, even Zynda and Zyr. Surprised and deeply moved, I returned the bow. “Zynda?”

  She held out her palm and I pressed the round of the topaz there, wrapping her fingers around it. Her gaze briefly met mine, then she nodded. “We all trust you, Sorceress Andromeda.”

  “May Moranu go with you and watch over you,” I replied, feeling the rush of the goddess’s presence as I invoked Her. May that mean I’d made the right decision.

  We stepped back to give Zynda room, and she became the dragon, immense and sapphire dark on the white sands of Annfwn. Zyr and Karyn helped Marskal load their supplies onto her harness. Farther down the beach, Kiraka and Djakos gleamed bronze and silver, the paired fighting teams and other aerial fighters assembling.

  Marskal climbed the harness, swift and agile, strapping himself on while Zyr changed to gríobhth form. Black as night, with the muscular body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle, the sight of him sent an audible murmur from the watchers. He didn’t often reveal his First Form publicly, and it always caused a stir.

  Karyn climbed on, she and Marskal giving me the Hawks’ salute. Then the dragon and gríobhth leapt into the air, Zyr staying low to the waves as he gradually gained altitude. It wasn’t easy for him to take off from the ground, but he and Karyn had been practicing.

  The waves of our flying forces followed, a stirring sight. I watched them disappear into the perfect blue sky, rolling the Star of Annfwn in my pocket, hoping and praying I’d made the right decision.

  ~ 17 ~

  Rayfe met me on my way up the beach, striding toward me with his lethal grace, his glossy dark hair kissed with blue as the breeze tossed the long strands. His eyes caught the light in that uncanny way of the Tala, like a predator’s reflecting at night, something I should’ve grown used to by now, but that never failed to give me chills. I searched his face for signs of his mood, who he might be at the moment, hoping to avoid having to touch his mind.

  Behind him, Ash stopped, giving me a wry salute before heading over to the next wave of aerial attackers mustering to depart. Babysitting duty duly handed off. Moranu how I hated this.

  Rayfe stopped before me, searching my face also, then looked at our people vanishing into the distant sky. “I should be leading them,” he said. “In all the time I’ve been King of the Tala, even before that, I’ve always led my people into battle.”

  From those words, I knew he was himself, if only for the moment. Though he hadn’t posed the words as a question, I understood his doubt and confusion as if they dwelled in my own heart.

  I bridged the space between us, standing on tiptoe to wind my hands behind his neck, fingers tangling in his silky locks. The taut round of my belly made it awkward to lean against him, but I managed—and sighed with relieved pleasure when his arms came around me to embrace and steady me.

  I turned up my face, brushing his lips with mine, and—after a brief hesitation—he took me up on the invitation, gradually intensifying, then sinking into a kiss that heated my body, and my heart. I opened to him and his tongue touched mine, tasting and tentative, his hands tightening on me, the kiss becoming hungry, his mouth demanding. We’d always had this, the physical connection, the midnight bond that tied us together. For once I didn’t chafe against the destiny that bound us together. I was profoundly grateful for it. Fate would keep him mine, no matter how carelessly I trampled his heart.

  It might make me as ruthless as my nemesis, but I would use every weapon at my disposal in this, too.

  Rayfe drew back to gaze at me, eyes hotter than blue flame. “What was that for?” he asked, with a quirk of a smile that wrung my heart.

  For all the ways I’ve lied to you, violated your trust, put you second to duty.

  “I’ve missed you,” I said.

  “It feels like forever since we’ve been just us,” he replied, extracting a hand to stroke my cheek with a gentle caress, gaze on my mouth.

  “Has it ever been just us?” I asked lightly, though my voice scraped a little. “Even that first time we met, when you kissed me, your wolfhound guard stood around watching.”

  “There was the cabin,” he returned. “Our wedding night—that was only the two of us.”

  “That was a good night.” I smiled at the memory, how nervous I’d been and how determined to make a real marriage of it, to change the destiny of both our realms. I’d been so innocent, in more than body.

  “We’ve had other good nights,” he reminded me, smile going sensual. “And days.” He paused, searching my face again, hand cupping my cheek. “I’ve missed you, too, and I don’t know why. You’re right here and yet I feel like I’ve lost you.”

  My heart grabbed, my throat dry. “You haven’t lost me. We’ve argued is all. We can come back from that.”

  He nodded, eyes a muddled blue of troubled emotions. “I feel sometimes like I’m in a dream I can’t wake from. Are we truly attacking n’Andana?”

  “Yes. A surprise attack,” I added, just in case the high priestess reviewed his memories. “And you’re not going with them because An
nfwn needs you here. You’re king for more than the warriors. The fighters can take care of themselves. The rest of the people here rely on your protection. The non-combatants, the children, the elderly, those who can’t or won’t fight—they need you.”

  “And you, my queen?” he asked softly. I caught my breath at the welcome endearment. The high priestess would never understand how Rayfe calling me his queen spoke so intimately of his regard for me. “What do you need?”

  “I need you to love me,” I whispered, my heart aching.

  He kissed me, and oh, it was sweet. “Done. What else?”

  “We should go check in with Ursula to find out.”

  He tucked a windblown lock of my hair behind my ear, smile going grave. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

  “I know.” I gave him another kiss, lingering over it, savoring the taste, scent, and feel of him, the welcome harbor of his arms. “But anything else has to wait until we get to the other side of this.”

  He withdrew, physically and on every other level. My senses flared, detecting the change. Now that I’d taught myself to watch for it, the advent of the high priestess had become as obvious as a cold wind snuffing a candle flame. “Yes, let’s attend your sister’s war council,” he said, stiff and haughty. “Though I greatly fear we’ll be crying surrender before the sun sets.”

  I rolled the Star in my pocket. We would see.

  Rayfe accompanied me to the council chambers, transformed into a bustling strategy center. I anxiously scanned the visible materials for anything that might tip off the high priestess as to our true intentions, but Ursula and the others had done a masterful job of disguising the working charts and messages regarding the Dasnarian battle front. Everything I could see pertained only to sailing to n’Andana. We updated each other and speculated on the triumph of our surprise attack on the high priestess while Rayfe smirked.

  Ash had departed with Djakos, leaving Ami determinedly cheerful and obviously worried out of her mind. She’d taken over distracting Rayfe’s attention as much as possible. Fortunately the high priestess seemed to be coming and going, her attention divided, leaving Rayfe confused in her absence—and bemused by Ami’s mild flirtations and rambling conversation.

  When Ursula passed me a note to commence contact with Jepp, I pleaded fatigue from having been awake most of the night—not a lie, though my declared intent to take a nap was—and I left for the Heart.

  Once ensconced in the abalone throne, I checked the time, mentally coordinating with the staymach bird that had become Jepp’s companion on the Hákyrling. Hardening my nerve, I made the mental leap to enter Jepp’s mind.

  Though I’d spoken to her before, this was the first time that I occupied her fully enough to perceive the world through her senses. I’d learned a great deal from observing how the high priestess possessed Rayfe. It was a heady sensation, and really so very easy.

  The skies had cleared far out at sea, and through Jepp’s long-seeing eyes—and with her permission—I clearly saw the shimmer of the barrier, and the innumerable Dasnarian ships amassing beyond. I’d thought I’d been prepared for the scale of the Dasnarian attack, but no amount of bracing could’ve steeled me against such a sight.

  Jepp stood on the deck of the Hákyrling, Kral in full armor beside her. And, on the other side of the barrier, the sea crawled with ships, all the way to the horizon. The Dasnarian warships looked even larger and more menacing from a human perspective. When I saw such sights in visions, they tended to be on a broader scale, from far off, rarely from the height of a person. I didn’t know why except that I wondered if the visions came from Moranu’s perspective.

  A trio of warships had advanced, well past the line of the previous boundary. The Dasnarians had clearly discovered that the barrier had moved. One ship belched flame, a boom lagging behind the bright flash, and something collided with the barrier, bouncing off again.

  “Are you listening, Andi?” Kral said to Jepp. I felt suddenly, and deeply uncomfortably, like the high priestess lurking in someone’s mind. No surprise there. I asked the staymach perched on Jepp’s shoulder to duck its head in its bird-approximation of a nod. I could listen and see through the staymachs to some extent, but a human mind and senses worked far more cleanly and accurately. Appalling that I had the high priestess to thank for this discovery.

  Use the weapons you have, I reminded myself.

  “That’s so creepy,” Jepp muttered, and I had to agree.

  “This is war,” Kral retorted. “Don’t be missish about a sound communication technique.”

  “I’ll show you missish, General Lunkhead,” Jepp said as she twirled a dagger in her hand, a sensation I could oddly feel with my own fingers, and I marveled at the man’s courage. “And I notice you didn’t invite Andi into your head.”

  “For good reasons, too,” he replied with a cocky grin. “Welcome, sorceress. Your timing is excellent. As you can see, they’ve begun testing the barrier. They’re using a standard Dasnarian fleet search pattern, so it’s clear from their technique that they’re expecting there to be a hole they can exploit. We’re as ready for them as we can be, and have identified a spot for them to unexpectedly encounter a portal.” His voice dripped with sarcasm and anticipation. “Jepp will show you.”

  Jepp shifted her gaze from the scout ships to a place farther down the barrier. One conveniently free of our ships. In fact, from what I could see, very few of our ships seemed to be nearby. “Oh, look!” Jepp exclaimed with a thick Dasnarian accent. “I bet there could be a weak spot in the barrier down that way. And those stupid festilts aren’t even guarding it.”

  “Can you do that, sorceress?” Kral asked.

  “Yes,” I whispered in Jepp’s mind, feeling her flinch as I startled her anyway.

  She didn’t show it on the outside though. “She says yes,” she reported crisply.

  “Checking something,” I told her, then moved my consciousness out to the barrier. They’d indicated a fairly wide swath, so I could take my pick. Ursula wanted it about three ships wide, which was less easy to figure, with only sea and sky all around. Dafne could probably measure it, but without a point of reference, I had trouble. I’d also have to make it go deep enough under water to allow the deep drafts of the Dasnarian warships to sail through and high enough for their masts to fit.

  When I’d moved ships through the barrier before, I’d been physically present, and I’d been able to alter the permeability of the barrier selectively as the ships moved through. Jepp had done the same thing using the Star, but the artifact itself had been physically present, too. Making a hole that would persist when I took my attention away posed a significant challenge.

  Since the barrier seemed to operate on the principle of circles, I tried creating a small circular hole near the waterline. Then if I expanded it equally outward, it should be as high above water as below, with the same width. I could make the hole and stabilize it easily enough—but the barrier kept nudging me with that information, as if it thought I needed to be alerted. I reassured it that I’d intended to make the hole and it subsided. Then, a moment later, it nudged me with the information again. This would get old—and draining—quickly.

  Back under the sea, the crabs gathered, scuttling in schools like fish shifting direction, tapping their claws to get my attention. They formed a sort of very basic intelligence using their group mind. It had been clever of the ancient n’Andanans, as the crabs minded the barrier without sorcerous intervention—a critical safety back up—but they possessed a limited understanding. I could convince them to let me change the protocol in the moment, but as soon as I stopped intervening, they reverted to normal maintenance. Which meant they’d keep telling me over and over about the hole. And trying to get me to fix it.

  Sure enough, as soon as I stepped back and let go of the barrier, they immediately mended the hole. I’d have to hold it open for each ship. Far from ideal, especially when I’d need all of my attention to strike at the high priestess. We�
�d have to do this non-simultaneously. I’d have to allow as many ships through as I could, but when our team reached n’Andana and I needed my full concentration there, I’d have to let the barrier revert. I couldn’t afford to divide my attention during our gambit in n’Andana.

  An excellent rationale against the simultaneous dual attacks, but too late now. Moranu take me if I’d admit to Ursula that she was right.

  I went back to Jepp’s mind, startling a little at the sight of Kral’s handsome face snarling through the opening of his helm.

  “What do you mean you can’t tell if she’s listening or not—don’t you know your own brains?”

  “Why don’t you let the scary sorceress into your head,” Jepp replied sweetly, “and then you’ll understand. It’s very strange. It felt no different when she said she was listening and when it seems she isn’t.”

  “I’ll pass,” Kral said, lip curling. “That kind of thing smacks too much of Deyrr.”

  Too true, my friend. I asked the staymach to flap its wings, but neither of them was paying attention. Besides which, I needed to explain the change of plans. I couldn’t linger until the searching ships reached the chosen spot—that looked to be an hour or more away—so I’d have to inform Ursula, so she could reframe the battle strategy. I’d “return” to the Hákyrling in an hour or so. All far too complicated for even my staymach’s songbird brain to relay.

  Another line to cross, but this was war and all.

  “This is Andi. I’m here now,” I had Jepp say. She jumped, nearly throwing one of her daggers, before she realized, then gripped it tightly. “I take it back,” she said. “That is totally fucking creepy.”

  “I apologize,” I had her say, “but I needed words.”

  “Are you talking as you and as Andi?” Kral peered at Jepp, poking her forehead with a big finger that she batted away.

  “Yes. And it’s as unsettling as you’d think, so let’s get it over with. Talk away, Andi.”