Lichgates

by S. M. Boyce

  There were three polished thrones raised on three separate platforms in the center of the room, each with a set of stairs leading to them.

  Three thrones, same as every other kingdom I’ve seen so far. For a race of creatures that claimed to be so different from each other, there were plenty of striking similarities in their cultures.

  A Lossian sat in the center throne, too tall for his chair—the nape of his neck rested against the throne’s high back. This had to be Blood Frine. His coal-black eyes accented his bald head, and his blue skin was wrinkled and dull. The yakona to his right was younger and almost identical, with the same dark eyes. They were so dark that she couldn’t see them move. Her skin crawled.

  A Lossian woman sat to the Blood’s left, her dress flowing over the steps at her feet in white trails of silk that looked like foam on an ocean wave. She smiled at Kara and nodded her head once in welcome. Kara smiled back, relieved at the kingdom’s first sign of kindness.

  The pressure on her back disappeared as the Duke and Braeden both sank to one knee, bowing their heads so low that she couldn’t see their faces.

  “Welcome, Vagabond!” the Lossian in the center throne said. “I am Blood Frine, king of Losse.”

  She bowed. Her eyes stung. The adrenaline from breathing through a starfish and swimming through a hoard of sharks was fading. All she wanted was sleep.

  The Blood stood and walked down the steps to his throne. “I know you must be exhausted, but before you may sleep, I must know that you are who you claim to be. I assume that you showed Duke Trin your Grimoire. Show me as well.”

  Kara hesitated at the order, but wished the Grimoire forward anyway. Its weight fell once more in her hands. It was then, in the silence, that she realized there was no crowd to murmur and gape—only the Duke, the royal family, and Braeden. The doors were even closed. She must have been more exhausted than she realized if they could close those massive gates without her hearing.

  “That it is,” Blood Frine said, more to himself. He continued walking toward her.

  “Is that all you needed?” She wished the book away once more.

  “Seeing the book is a start, but it isn’t enough. Since I heard of your return, I’ve dwelt on how I would make you prove yourself to me.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that.

  “When the first Vagabond visited my ancestors, he proved his own power by wielding my grandfather’s Sartori. Have you heard of the Sartori blades?”

  Her mind flickered to the Queen’s death. Braeden’s blood-curdling scream had scared birds from the trees when his connection to his father made him feel the sting of Queen Lorraine’s blade.

  “I have,” she answered.

  Frine stopped only a few feet in front of her and unsheathed a sword at his waist. The dark blue blade glinted in the dazzling blue and green light, and its silver handle twisted in thin curves that covered the Blood’s hand. Illegible white runes ran down the blade, such that it looked as much like a scroll as it did a weapon. There was a small, sharp breath from behind her, but she didn’t dare turn around.

  “If any but the Vagabond, my son, or I touch this sword, his hands will burn beyond healing. He will never again be able to use his fingers.” Frine held out the hilt to her. “Prove yourself.”

  She reached for the handle and hovered over it. This could be a trick. She listened for Braeden, waiting for a clue, a hint—anything—but he was quiet. There were few choices here, so she took a deep breath and wrapped her hands around the hilt.

  The weight of the sword shifted into her hand. Her shoulders tensed and complained as she tried to hold the unnaturally heavy weapon. The cool metal tickled the bones in her knuckles with a rhythm like a pulse, but there was no fire, no burning, and no pain. She let out a small, shaky breath. Frine took back his Sartori and slid the poisoned blade back into its scabbard.

  “You are indeed the Vagabond, then,” he said, but she wasn’t certain he was pleased by the fact. He turned back to his throne and continued to speak as he walked. There was something sinister in his voice.

  “I must ask, dear girl, how went your stay in Kirelm? In Hillside?”

  “If you haven’t heard, there was an attack on Hillside,” she said. “Carden killed the Queen and now her son, Gavin, is the Blood. He wants to negotiate a peace treaty between the other kingdoms, so that we can stop Carden before he finds the rest of you.”

  “No,” the Blood said, sitting back in his seat. “He wants revenge and is too weak to do it himself.”

  She scoffed, but didn’t answer.

  “Tell me, has the Vagabond been reduced to a messenger between the kingdoms? Or are you just a pawn?”

  “Don’t insult me.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “And why shouldn’t I?”

  “If you know anything about the first Vagabond, you’ll recall his purpose was always to promote peace. I’m just trying to do the same.”

  “That did turn out so well for him,” the Blood observed with a sarcastic smirk. His lip twitched and his eyes never left hers.

  “It’s a different era. I’d hoped you all have grown a little wiser after a thousand years.”

  He chuckled and rested his head on his fist. “Well spoken, but I won’t decide our place in this matter yet. I pray that you’ll stay with us as I debate the consequences of such an alliance.”

  Kara bit her lip. Her eyes drooped. Sleep would help her think of a better argument, since uniting for his own safety apparently wasn’t doing it for him.

  “If that’s what you need,” she said.

  “We have prepared a room for you, but we weren’t expecting your companion. Tell me, who is this?”

  “Asealo of Atao,” she said after a short pause, proud that she had remembered the name at all.

  “I have not been to the village of Atao for thirty years, my boy,” the Blood said. His eyes shifted out of focus as he seemed to recall something. “Is that willow tree still alive?”

  “I must apologize, my liege,” Braeden said, “but I don’t know of such a tree in my village.”

  “Hmm,” the Blood muttered. “I must have your home confused with another’s. Will you need a room during your stay?”

  “I should very much appreciate it, my liege.” Braeden’s voice trembled with a submissive tenor. He didn’t once meet the Blood’s eyes. He was putting on a good show.

  “Very well.” The Blood motioned to the woman to his left. “Queen Daowa, escort the children to their rooms.”

  Kara bit her tongue and suppressed the sarcastic rebuttal that festered in her throat at his careless order, but Daowa nodded to him and stood with a sweet smile. The Lossian’s dress tumbled over the stairs as she glided toward them.

  “It’s an honor to host the Vagabond,” Daowa said. “I’ll show you to your rooms. But if you aren’t interested in sleep, you must stroll through our gardens. There are none like them in all of Ourea.”

  Oh, Kara would be visiting the gardens, all right. There was just one map piece left to find.

  Kara gave up trying to sleep after an hour or two of tossing and turning. Without any curtains to cover the windows, the glowing golden light was too bright. So instead of getting the rest she needed, she grabbed her satchel and meandered through the gardens, which had been easy to spot from her room. She followed her feet once she found the entrance to the grassy park and began hunting through the endless array of bushes, flowerbeds, and ponds for the missing map piece.

  She wasted hours scouring the garden’s few stone walls, but she didn’t find anything. The tall hedges were too frail to support a slab of lapis. The sparse, blossoming trees had no hiding places, and she would’ve looked like a crazed idiot if she’d started sifting through the dirt around the flowers. It was starting to seem like a good option, though—she wasn’t going to leave Losse without that stupid map piece. But what if Frine had it? What would she do? He didn’t seem like the type of king who would just hand it over.

  Lost, fru
strated, and without a clue of what to do next, she stopped at a shallow pond at the edge of the dome of light. It looked out over the endless ocean beyond Losse, giving her a view of the black depths. There was no telling how far down they really were.

  She sat on the edge of the small pond and draped her feet into the water so that they scraped along the bottom, brushing the smooth white sand on its floor. A small red and white koi fish swam over and took a fancy to her toes, nibbling them periodically and tickling her until she giggled.

  A blue sparkle caught her eye from the depths of the pond, so she reached her hands into the water and brushed away the sand. Beneath the layers of grit and nestled into the rocky bottom was the lapis cornerstone to her map.

  She huffed. Finally! At least she’d found the dumb thing.

  She dug her fingernails into the crevices, pulling on it until it came free. The flecks of gold were bright in the warm glow of Losse’s dome, making the map piece glimmer like the night sky she couldn’t see.

  “There you are!”

  A Lossian clambered up the small grassy hill to the pond. He glanced down at the map piece in her hand, and she panicked. She quickly slid the blue square into her satchel, wondering what she could say to explain her theft when she noticed the Lossian’s white shell necklace.

  She groaned inwardly at her needless anxiety. She needed sleep.

  “Hey. So, I found it. The last piece.” She smiled, trying to hide the ebbing tide of alarm that still lingered in her gut.

  “When are you going to put it together?”

  “I don’t know what will happen, and I don’t want anyone else to see it. I’ll wait until we’re alone.”

  “Good idea.”

  He sat beside her and dangled his scrawny Lossian legs into the pond. She had to look up to see his face, even though he was sitting, and his long mouth twisted downward. Wrinkles drooped under his eyes. She was still getting used to the Lossian features, but she was pretty sure that was a frown.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Remember that question about the willow tree?” He leaned in, whispering. She could barely hear him.

  “Yeah. That was random.”

  “There is no willow tree. Atao is entirely underwater, just like Losse. The only village with a willow tree is Lotvine, which is in a marsh. He was trying to trick me.” He cursed under his breath and shook his head. “If I hadn’t been hunting isen there this year, I would never have known that. He knows something is wrong about me.”

  “Chill out,” she said.

  “What? How? It’s important.”

  “If you work yourself up, he’ll definitely know something is wrong. Lie low.”

  “How are you so relaxed? I thought you were going to fall asleep in the throne room. How are you even awake?”

  She shrugged, not quite knowing the answer. He ran his fingers along the surface of the pond, his shoulders relaxing as he shooed away the little fish.

  “You take this nonsense well,” he finally said.

  She sighed and leaned back on her palms, staring out into the dark depths of the ocean.

  “A little over a month ago, I thought my biggest problem was deciding whether or not to go back to Arizona State. My little dramas seemed so important then, but now they’ll never matter. Sometimes I still think that I’m going to wake up, propped against that stupid door in the mountain, and realize that I just hit my head.”

  Braeden pinched her arm.

  “Ow!”

  He leaned back and snickered. “You aren’t dreaming.”

  “Did you really just pinch me?” She grumbled and rubbed her arm.

  “At least you know for certain, now.”

  Another voice chimed from behind them. “May I sit with you, Vagabond?”

  Kara turned. Queen Daowa stood on the small grassy knoll, her hands clasped in front of her long, flowing dress. She wore a graceful smile and a crown littered with brilliant sapphires.

  “I shall leave you ladies to your thoughts.” Braeden stood and bowed to the Queen, averting his eyes in what Kara assumed was Lossian custom. He winked at her once he was out of Daowa’s sight and disappeared into the garden.

  Queen Daowa knelt beside the pond, the blue and white fabric of her dress scattering in all directions as she did. She watched the ripples in the water for a few seconds before speaking.

  “Do you enjoy your role as the Vagabond?” she finally asked.

  “It’s fun when I’m not being chased by something.”

  Daowa laughed. “What have you learned of magic thus far?”

  “A few things here and there. Blades, a flame. Just the basics.”

  “May I share a few thoughts?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Magic is a union with the life in all things around you. By sensing the energy in even inanimate things, you can channel it and manipulate your environment. The Bloods, our most powerful yakona, can even control the elements when they don their daru. Have you heard of that?”

  “Yeah—” Kara dropped off for a moment, the memory of Braeden’s red-eyed daru consuming her. She blinked it away.

  “So, the king can control the ocean?” she asked.

  “If enough of his people are near to fuel his will, then yes,” Daowa spoke softly, as if not to upset the air around her. “It’s a breathtaking sight to see.”

  A short, young Lossian maiden scampered over the hill. Her dress covered her toes, but the patter of her bare skin on the grass reverberated across the garden. Once she neared them, she kept her eyes to the ground.

  “My Queen, my Vagabond,” the girl said. “Blood Frine has asked for your presence, if you please.”

  “Of course,” Daowa answered. She rose to her feet, her billowing gown never once falling into the pond, and began walking toward the palace. Kara stood and followed.

  “Do you think he’s reached a decision about the treaty?”

  “That’s unlikely. He is slow to make these important decisions, because they can’t be unmade. No, I suspect he will discuss your tenure here, Vagabond. We have many things for you to learn.”

  “Losse is beautiful, but I can’t stay long. There’s no telling when things on the surface will escalate. I need to be there.”

  Daowa eyed her with the same brooding glare Frine wore when he’d unsheathed his Sartori. A chill crept along Kara’s neck, and the sudden wish for Braeden gnawed at her.

  “I think you’ll find both my husband and his kingdom very convincing.”

  She let Daowa lead and kept an eye on the castle as it neared. It didn’t matter where she was in the kingdom; the palace was always visible. It loomed before them, and she wondered if anyone in Losse could ever feel safe when the fortress watched everyone constantly.

  Training

  Kara followed Daowa into the throne room, where Blood Frine and his Heir sat in their thrones. The two men watched them enter without blinking and sat motionless until the Queen bowed to her husband and took her seat beside him.

  The four of them were alone in the massive hall: no guards, no on-lookers, and no witnesses. The only visible door was the one Kara had just come through, which had somehow closed once again without her noticing.

  “Vagabond, is your room adequate?” Blood Frine asked, his voice thin and tense.

  “Yes, thank you. Have you decided to start the peace negotiations?”

  “You are so very much to the point,” he said with a grumble. “But no. I’ve been preoccupied with another matter, one I suspect you’ll quite enjoy.”

  She smothered the urge to sigh.

  “And what’s that?”

  “Losse is home to the six greatest tutors in Ourea. Their parents trained me as a boy, and they themselves have taught my son. I asked them to also train you whilst you’re here. This gift has never been granted beyond those who live in the palace, but I’ve done this with the hope that you’ll see our natural honor. We are simply slow to join a cause, no matter whose name is attached to it.”r />
  Her stomach tightened with excitement. She would have formal training, and by the best! But training took time. Her heart fell as quickly as it had jumped into her throat. Carden wouldn’t stop killing Bloods while she learned to fight. She wasn’t the warrior the first Vagabond had been; she was the messenger, the one who brought the best fighters onto the same side of the war, and she needed to get back to the surface.

  “I’d love to take you up on that in the few days that I’m here. Once the treaty is signed, I hope that you’ll let me return to complete the training.”