Paragon

by Rowan Rook

  Amaranth managed a deep breath. They had all the tools they needed to pull this off. As long as no Lyrum soldiers recognized Shakaya's face⁠—and due to her habit of killing any who saw it, he hoped they wouldn't⁠—they didn't have anything to fear except their nerves.

  The two of them exchanged a final gaze, grabbed hands, and emerged from their hiding place to approach the colony.

  "Hey!"

  Two guards surged forward to meet them. A spear shot forward and stopped just inches from Amaranth's chest. He swallowed, trying not to look shaken. Shakaya clung to his arm with both hands in false anxiety. Translation posed the real threat⁠—there was no way to know what abilities a Lyrum harbored.

  "Who are you?" The biggest guard white knuckled her weapon. "I don't recognize your faces."

  "They look suspicious," the other guard growled, his eyes wild at the sight of the first strangers he'd likely seen in a while. "We can't take any risks, not now. I say we gut them right⁠—"

  "W-wait!" Amaranth raised a palm and put on an expression of indignation. "We're Lyrum⁠—travelers from Havventhale." A pity he couldn't remember the name of the colony up there. "We're seeking shelter."

  The male guard arched a suspicious eyebrow. "Awfully pale to be from Ledderlot, aren't you? Thought most folks from there were darker skinned."

  Amaranth stiffened. Shit. That was right. He'd known that once, but it had been so long since he'd used it that such information had gone dormant. Shakaya shot him a worried look that wasn't part of her act.

  "Our families were originally from here, Riksharre, but emigrated a few generations ago." He struggled not to stutter, "We've heard family stories, so we knew where to find this place."

  The female guard leaned closer, clearly intrigued but not convinced. "Show us."

  Amaranth knew what she was asking. He held out his palm and let a small flame spark to life there, flickering like a smokeless candle. Shakaya's stare pressed in on him⁠—he wondered if she'd ever get used to it⁠—but he managed to meet the Lyrums' eyes. "I have fire. My mate has healing."

  It was impossible to demonstrate healing Translation without an injured prop, which was exactly why they'd chosen it for her. Now that he'd proved⁠—in the guard's eyes, at least⁠—that he was one of them, he hoped they would take him at his word. After all, it wasn't like a Lyrum would ever travel with a Human.

  The two guards relaxed just slightly. The woman returned her spear to her side. "What business do you have here?"

  "We're looking for a new home." He forced a hopeful smile⁠—the kind he figured an everyday man would wear when talking about everyday dreams. It felt strange on his lips. "We're getting older, after all. We want to start a family, but with the capital searching so relentlessly for Ledderlot, we didn't feel safe in Havventhale. It was no place to raise children. We disguised ourselves as Humans, slipped aboard a cargo ship bound for Lusanthine, and got out of there," he lied, padding the details of their cover story a bit. "Please, all we want is peace."

  "Disguised as Humans? That was brave. Foolish, but brave." The male guard frowned. "I'm afraid you may not find your peace here. There's an organization in the east seeking out our colony, as well."

  Ah. The Academy.

  Amaranth matched the frown and exhaled a long, weary sigh. "I see...perhaps it was naive to believe anywhere remains safe, but Riksharre can't be worse off than Ledderlot. Will you let us in and allow us to consider this place? We don't mean any harm. We simply want a home."

  The two Lyrum exchanged a glance.

  "What're your names?" the woman asked.

  "I'm Arwin, and this is my mate, Sohna," Amaranth answered, gesturing to Shakaya.

  "P-pleased to meet you," she sputtered, putting on a shy expression and holding out a hand in greeting. Amaranth felt her nails dig into his arm when the Lyrum's fingers knotted with hers, but her disgust never reached her face. Instead, she smiled.

  The Lyrum grinned, her cheeks turning pink to match the sunset. "The pleasure is all mine."

  Amaranth tried not to show his surprise. Shakaya was a better actress than he'd given her credit for. The guard actually seemed smitten with her. After all, Lyrum only considered gender when coupling if they intended to conceive children. While Human society was riddled with strange rules⁠—including segregated gender roles and the condemnation of same-sex relationships—Lyrum society saw the reproductive biology of the sexes as only a practical matter. Man and woman were otherwise meaningless terms.

  The male Lyrum scoffed at the smile on his colleague's face and glowered at the travel bag in Shakaya's arms. "What's inside?"

  Shakaya opened the pack and held it toward him. "The only clothes and supplies we brought from Ledderlot."

  Amaranth tensed, struggling not to stare as the man searched the bag where their weapons were hidden underneath shirts and dresses and shoes. If the guards decided to dig through it, their plan would end before it had begun.

  Shakaya, though, only blushed. "There are some embarrassing things in here."

  "I see." The Lyrum didn't bother digging too deep, his face reddening. "Don't worry. There's no need to look for every detail."

  A sigh of relief escaped Amaranth's lips, but at least he held back the laugh.

  "There's an empty house on the east side of the lake." The female guard's eyes stayed on Shakaya. "You can use it while you make your decision. If you want it, it's yours."

  Amaranth nodded gratefully. "That's very generous, thank you." Even within Lyrum society, homes typically cost hundreds of Rune. The colony had to be struggling if it allowed strangers in for free.

  "I...suppose so," the male guard stole an incredulous glance at his colleague. "Follow me, I'll show you the way."

  Amaranth and Shakaya answered with eager nods.

  The Lyrum led them through a pathway cutting through the colony's thorny barrier, twisting and winding around vines. The wall was otherwise impenetrable, perfectly encircling the village. Translation made such things easy.

  Amaranth stopped when they stepped inside Riksharre. Everything in him went numb.

  A lake mirrored the middle of the village with a surface dyed in evening orange. A network of wooden bridges criss-crossed over it, crowded with shacks and moored rafts. Several Lyrum busied themselves with nets while others carried baskets stuffed with fish and fruit⁠—the colony's meals. Bigger cabins lined the water. Near the thorns, where old growth remained, tree huts looked down from sturdy branches. A main street, marked only by trampled soil, wound between the dwellings, cluttered with adult Lyrum going about their daily business and children splashing at the shore. Even now, under the Academy's shadow, Riksharre burst with life.

  Shakaya looked at Amaranth, opening and closing her mouth as if she'd wanted to speak but thought better of it. She turned instead toward the guard, her voice quiet, "It's beautiful."

  Amaranth blinked in surprise, wondering if those words belonged to Shakaya or Sohna.

  Still, Riksharre really was beautiful. He watched the lake as lazy waterfowl and the children playing in the shallows cast ripples across the surface. The lilies growing by the shoreline bobbed up and down in the same rhythm while the breeze ferried the whirring of insects and the musks of pine and moss. A knot tightened his throat. He'd tried to prepare himself for the colony's sights⁠—after all, it was where he'd once planned to search for the letter's author⁠—but simply stepping inside felt so strange...

  He sucked in a breath to steady himself. Now wasn't the time. He kept walking, taking Shakaya's hand like the mate he was supposed to be. Her gaze wandered as they traveled, prodding the colony's pathways and people, but he kept his on his feet, on the soil stomped bare by generations of footsteps.

  "Are there any Councilors currently stationed in this colony?" he asked the guard. "If possible, we'd like to talk to them about the situation here."

  The Lyrum arched another eyebrow. "All three were here not long ago, having some important meeting I sup
pose, but Mayver went off on personal business and hasn't returned yet, last I heard. Their actual locations are concealed for security reasons, even from Riksharre citizens. If you wish to meet with them, you'll have to talk to me or one of the other guards and have us arrange a meeting for you. The Council has been busy. I can't say when it'll have time for such a thing."

  Amaranth and Shakaya exchanged a glance. It was certainly good news that both remaining Councilors were there, but concealed locations could prove to be quite an obstacle. Their only hope in this endeavor was to catch the Council off guard.

  "I see," Amaranth was careful to keep the frustration from his voice. "Perhaps if we end up settling in, then."

  The guard nodded and ushered them onward.

  "Umm..." Shakaya hesitated, her voice unusually unsure. "What about the Anwell house? I know it burned down, but can you tell me where it used to be?"

  The blood chilled in Amaranth's body, leaving him frozen.

  She couldn't have said what he thought she had. He had to be hearing things. There was no way...

  The Lyrum paused, quiet for a few beats before turning back to her. "That was years ago. I was only a small child when the Anwells were alive. Why would you want to know?"

  Shakaya placed a sad smile on her lips. "My parents once visited Riksharre before I was born. I guess they became good friends with the Anwells. They talked about them a lot. They were devastated when news of the tragedy reached Ledderlot, so I promised I'd pay my respects if I ever managed to reach Riksharre."

  Amaranth's breath clung to the roof of his mouth, leaving him lightheaded.

  The Anwells. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard that name, and it pierced his ribs like a knife. How did Shakaya know of the Anwells? Why speak of them now? Why⁠—

  He swallowed, his heart throbbing in his throat.

  Shakaya surely felt his hand tense around hers, but if she did, she said nothing.

  "They were heretics." The guard fastened his feet to the soil, any trace of a smile gone from his face. "They were a threat to the colony. They got what they deserved."

  Amaranth's free hand clenched into a fist. It took every bit of restraint he had not to bash the Lyrum in the head. He wanted to scream at him that he was wrong. That it had been senseless, cruel. That it had been murder. But he couldn't. It wasn't an option. He gritted his teeth and stared out at the lake...away from Shakaya and that man.

  "Oh, I'm not saying they didn't," Shakaya nodded. Amaranth's heart skipped a beat. "But that doesn't change the fact that my family cared for them. I want to keep my promise with my late mother and father."

  The Lyrum was quiet for a while longer. "I understand. There isn't much left of it, but it's out on the west end of the lake, where many of the wealthier folk live. Be cautious⁠—it's deteriorating by the hour. One of these days the whole thing is going to collapse."

  "Thank you," Shakaya smiled gratefully. "We'll be careful. We don't need to go inside."

  The guard nodded in turn.

  Amaranth forced himself to move, his feet heavy with dread and his head dizzy with disbelief.

  Shakaya had never once mentioned the Anwells before.

  Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

  The Lyrum had ushered them inside a tree hut that overlooked the lake, nestled within a web of branches that smelled like summer. Apparently, it had belonged to a soldier who marched with the rebels against the Academy and never came home. Ironic. Built for a solo occupant, there was only one bed and a couple of tables: one for dining, one for reading.

  Amaranth wanted space, and there wasn't any. He lingered on the balcony, his arms resting on the railing and his gaze watching the village below. Residents hurried back and forth through the busy streets, unaware of the ill-willed eyes staring down at them.

  Lyrum and Humans may have shared similar appearances, but no one would mistake the colony for a Human village. The feel of the place was different than anything Human society created. Children outnumbered adults, filling the streets with noise and laughter. Lyrum reproduced young and bore litters of two to five. With such short lifespans, the focus was on family, not individuals. They didn't fret over daily troubles and didn't fear death, finding joy in the small and simple things nature provided. Life for a Lyrum was about leaving a legacy...and raising a family to join them in Heaven.

  Or, in less romantic terms, they bred and lived like rabbits. That was how he'd heard his colleagues put it, at least. He wrinkled his nose.

  "I still can't believe we're really here." Shakaya plopped down on the edge of the bed, the shy smile she'd worn replaced with a scowl. She seemed lost in her thoughts, as well.

  Amaranth's tongue was arid in his mouth, not quite able to find the words to ask what it needed to. Finally, he swallowed hard and scrounged up all his courage. "What was this about an Anwell house?" At least he didn't have to fake the confusion. "Who are they?"

  "Oh..." Shakaya acknowledged flatly and pushed herself to her feet. He heard her amble onto the balcony without raising his eyes. "Long story short, the Anwells are the family responsible for the death of mine."

  So she knew at least that much.

  Amaranth felt like he should respond, but couldn't bring himself to speak.

  She didn't seem to notice his nervousness, turning around and leaning against the railing to stare up at the sky. "I know I'm not supposed to, but when I have the chance, I interrogate Lyrum before finishing them off. When I first became a soldier, the only thing I wanted to know was what really happened to my family that night. I had to know!" she defended, as if against some invisible adversary.

  "I learned that the Lyrum woman I'd seen⁠—the one who locked me in my room and left me for dead⁠—was a soldier named Illya Anwell. The Sentinel's destruction, it turned out, was an important event in Lyrum society. Mrs. Anwell was hailed as something of a hero." Her lips twitched with a joyless smile. "She had a mate and three children. At first, I swore revenge. I wanted to find her and her family. Even if she'd died of age, I'd find her descendants and slaughter them. I'd take everything from her like she'd taken everyone from me."

  She said it so easily, with such a straight face, that Amaranth struggled not to shiver. He noticed something else, too. She wasn't talking the way she normally did about Lyrum. It was the first time he'd heard her refer to one as anything other than an 'it,' yet it was also the first time he'd heard her speak of them as if they felt real emotion. After all, revenge meant passing on grief and anger as punishment, but she didn't seem to notice the contradiction. What that meant, he wasn't sure.

  "But you know what else I discovered? Just months after she'd set my home on fire, her own had burned down. The entire Anwell family was dead." Her eyes watched gray clouds ride the sky. "Talk about fate, huh?"

  "Indeed." Amaranth's fingers dug into the railing.

  "I guess it beat me to it." Shakaya let out a long sigh. "I never did find out the details, but the Anwell fire wasn't an accident⁠—it was punishment for heresy, whatever that means." She looked at him. "I also remember learning that her mate was a Councilor. That's why I dredged it up. I don't know what's left inside the burned house, but I wonder if there might be something⁠—some old record or colony map⁠—pointing toward the Council's hideaway."

  Ah. That...actually made sense.

  Amaranth tucked away his fear as deeply as he could and met her eyes. "It's a long shot, but a reasonable lead." As much as he hated to admit it, it was. He hadn't even considered such a possibility.

  Shakaya managed a humorless laugh, "And using their belongings to bring down the Council they worked for...that's a sort of revenge in itself, isn't it?"

  His gaze returned to the village. "I...suppose so."

  "Let's rest tonight and investigate at dawn, before the villagers wake," she decided.

  "Very well," he nodded, fighting in vain to keep his heart from pounding.

  There was no way out of this, was there?

  Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

  Amara
nth squirmed as Shakaya's back pressed against his, immensely uncomfortable. A patchwork of hot and cold tingles spread through him every time she shifted. He dug at the sheets and coiled his half of the quilt around his body.

  There was only a single bed in the cabin⁠—an unfortunate side effect of masquerading as mates, perhaps. A pity they hadn't thought to take the sleeping bags from the carriage. He sighed, scooting closer to the edge of the cloth-and-feather mattress.

  Shakaya didn't seem bothered in the least, slumbering soundly with her arms splayed out as carelessly as if she were in her own dorm. She could plop down and sleep anywhere. Maybe life in the Academy's army had trained her for it⁠—soldiers couldn't toss and turn when they needed to salvage every spare moment to rest.

  Still, he sometimes swore she had an off switch hidden somewhere. Completely indifferent or immensely passionate. Stoic and quiet or loud and violent. Determinedly loyal or utterly hateful. She shifted between shades of black and white.

  Perhaps he could learn something from her. He swam in oceans of gray, worrying about things he couldn't change and answers he'd never be able to find. None of it even mattered anymore⁠—he'd already made his decision. If he were going to succeed, he needed to stand by it with the same determination she embodied.

  He rolled to face the back of her head, wondering if what went on inside it was really so simple. The kiss she'd stolen at the Hazza inn, her sudden enthusiasm, her unspoken reasons, her awareness of the Anwells. Her actions the last few days had left him blindsided. And tomorrow...