by Elise Kova
Vi watched Fiera’s rage from where she leaned against the wall by the doorway, arms folded and holding her elbows. She tried to keep herself detached from the princess’s plight by reminding herself that this Fiera was not her family. Vi was merely here as a traveler, doing what she needed to do before leaving without a trace.
Yet the raw hurt that swirled almost visibly in the air around Fiera brought up emotions from the void that was always threatening to swallow Vi whole. Fiera’s eyes were glassy, as though she was nearly at the point of frustrated tears. Still the fire within them burned.
“What do you think?” Fiera asked Vi.
“Pardon?”
“I asked your thoughts, Yullia.” Fiera motioned toward her with an open hand, flames still writhing around her fingers. “Do you agree with Zira that these are opportunists and I do myself more of a disservice by giving them a platform with my anger?”
Vi only had to make a show of thinking about the answer. “I don’t think this was an isolated attack, unfortunately.”
“You don’t.” Fiera’s hand dropped to her side.
“I think there are those who cling to old Mhashan like a security blanket. Those who would’ve rather fought with every last breath for every last brick, regardless of the cost.”
“Those like my father.” Fiera pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh and shook her head, walking over to one of the three large windows that dominated one wall of her sitting room. They towered over her, making even Fiera seem small. “He wanted to defend Norin until it was ashes. He would’ve seen every last man and woman of the kingdom die if that’s what it took to prevent Mhashan bending to Solaris.”
“Foolish men and their foolish honor.” Zira tipped her head against the side of the wingback, looking to Fiera. The princess was still avoiding eye contact with both of them.
“Foolish people who cannot see the world changing around them,” Fiera said thoughtfully. “We are a people surrounded by desert. Yet somehow, there are those who cannot see how power shifts like sand in the wind. It blows one way, then another. You can never expect it to be in the same place for long.
“Mhashan was not made strong because of our cities of immovable stone. The Ci’Dan family did not rise to prominence because we were rigid. It was because we could adapt.”
Vi continued to stare at the princess’s back. Fiera would give up everything to save what she loved. Not to preserve the world as she knew it, and had always known it—but to see it thrive, to continue on even if that meant letting it change.
A thought settled at the forefront of Vi’s mind: when she had gone to Meru to be the Goddess’s Champion, what had she been fighting for? Had she wanted to see her family thrive in whatever form that took? Or had she only wanted to see her family as she had envisioned them?
“The fact remains that not all possess your wisdom,” Vi said, silently including herself in the sentiment. “And those men and women will band together.”
“He said the war was only just beginning.” Fiera turned away from the window at last. “You said you believe the attacks will continue. How do you think they’ll strike next?”
“All wars need a general. In the case of the Knights of Jadar, that general is designated by a singular object—”
“A sword,” Fiera finished for her. “They will never lay their hands on my grandfather’s sword.”
“It sees the light of day rarely enough,” Zira murmured.
“They will go after it though, regardless of where it is. If they even sense the edge of its power, these false Knights will hunt it.” Vi braced herself for what she needed to ask next. “If I’m to be effective as your guard, I need to know where it is.”
For the first time, Fiera didn’t immediately acquiesce. Vi supposed she should be grateful; Fiera’s caution surrounding the sword was their first line of defense.
“It took me three years to lay eyes on it.” Zira stood. “Why do you think she should show you? You’ve only just entered her service.”
“Because my only goal is to protect it,” Vi said as earnestly as possible. She pushed away from the wall and allowed her arms to fall to her sides, abandoning her previously defensive position. “Because I have a sense about it, just as I had a sense earlier this day about the attack.”
“What sense?” Fiera looked between her and Zira.
“She did tell me as we were walking to the storehouse that she felt uneasy. But then again, we all did.”
Fiera debated this a moment before slowly approaching Vi. She searched Vi’s face and narrowed her eyes slightly, as if she could extract any falsehoods from Vi’s eyes alone. Vi worked to make sure she didn’t hesitate, which seemed nearly impossible under the woman’s relentless inspections.
“I need more from you,” she said finally. “Your words, the feeling of fate steeped in the air around you… it has gotten you this far. But I need more from you if I am to bestow this most prized secret on you.”
It was fair, more than fair. Vi had earned Fiera’s trust thanks to the woman’s senses. But she’d found the extent of that good will and now the real work would have to begin. Taavin had cautioned her as much.
“I see more than the future,” Vi confessed softly, her voice nearly quivering. She was walking a very fine, very dangerous line. “I was chosen by the Mother herself to defend this world and the sword will play a role in that. Keeping it from falling into the wrong hands is all I desire.”
“Chosen by the Mother?” Zira repeated, though Vi couldn’t tell if her tone was one of belief or incredulity.
“It’s true,” Vi continued, speaking directly to Fiera. “And if you take me to the sword, I can give you proof of my claim that will satisfy you.” Fiera was immobile as a statue, listening, waiting. It was that expectant tension that had Vi adding, “Should it not, then kill me there and I will take the secret of the sword’s location to my grave.”
The princess took a step backward, then nodded. She glanced to Zira and said, “I’m going to accept Yullia’s offer. Keep your blade ready.”
Zira gripped the pommel of her sword and Vi’s heart began to race.
Fiera was ever the double-edged sword and Vi walked the ridge down the middle. Would she end on the side that would protect her? Or was the sharper edge about to be turned against her?
Her future with Fiera balanced on what happened next and, unfortunately for Vi, she had no idea what she was about to do to earn the trust she needed.
Chapter Ten
Luckily, Vi had a bit of a walk to think about her plans. Even better, the walk was done entirely in silence. Fiera led them down through the castle with Vi in the middle and Zira behind her.
As Vi walked, she scribbled down a mental list of things she could do to prove to Fiera she was meant to have the sword. She could try to look into the future and if that didn’t work, perhaps summon a glyph? That would seem mysterious enough.
They entered through empty passages clearly meant for soldiers—those men and women still locked away at the order of the Emperor. Fiera led them past a desk that must once have belonged to the quartermaster, and through one of three doors that led to a mostly empty armory. Every part of Norin had been impacted by the ten-year siege. The city was like a carcass that the Empire was slowly, bite by bite, licking clean.
Fiera went to a door in the back, lifted a key with a chain around her neck and, with one more glance back at Vi, opened the door.
Beyond the threshold, a narrow hallway glowed orange thanks to a curtain of swirling flame burning at its end. The fire was nearly white-hot and would no doubt be difficult for even the most powerful of Firebearers to pass through.
Fiera waved dismissively and the flames vanished. Vi was left blinking into the sudden darkness in the moments before the princess summoned a mote of flame for them to see by.
“How difficult is it to maintain that flame all the time?” Vi asked.
“I’ve grown accustomed to it,” Fiera answered. “At first,
it seemed like a great deal of power constantly draining from me, making me weak. But our magic is like our muscles—the more we stretch and flex our powers, the stronger they become. I hardly notice it now.”
Vi believed her. Fiera’s powers were as breathtaking as all the stories she’d been told growing up made them seem.
They continued forward, past the stones that still glowed faintly from the residual heat of the flames and into a tiny room. It was unadorned, save for the sword hung on the wall before Vi, and a narrow table beneath it. Fiera reached for the blade without hesitation, unsheathing it.
“The Sword of Jadar,” she said with quiet reverence. “Bestowed by King Jadar onto his youngest son—the one who did not inherit his flames—so he could use its powers to defend Mhashan and the throne.” She held out the blade, pointing it directly at Vi. “You have seen it. And now I will have the proof you promised.”
She should feel threatened. But Vi’s heart raced purely because of how close the crystal was. She could feel the waves of power rippling from it. Every swirl of the magic within it delighted her, enthralled her.
Vi’s plan to prove her good intentions had been formed out of a series of guesses. But in that moment, she no longer needed a clear way forward. She didn’t need to overthink.
She acted on instinct.
Lifting her hands, Vi’s fingertips lightly landed on the edges of the blade on either side. It was sharp enough that it could bite into her flesh but it didn’t. It wouldn’t. This was the will of the goddess; Vi and the sword were of the same make, now, and it would not harm her.
Power lifted off the blade. The faint glow that perpetually surrounded the sword curled like tendrils of smoke, reaching for Vi with a nearly sentient quality. Like the scythe, the power crashed on her, and the sensation of being two places at once overtook her.
They stood in the center of the Dark Isle.
Two women and two men were semi-circled around one older man who had the same pointed ears as Taavin. He still appeared youthful, yet his eyes were ancient and ringed with dark circles. Clutched in his left hand was a tall staff of glittering crystal as bright blue as a clear morning sky.
Vi knew the man was the former Champion. Looking at him was like looking in a mirror that twisted her outside reflection while exposing what was within. He spoke to what she assumed were his children, but his eyes remained on her—as if he could see the one who would come after him, even then. As if somehow, across all time and space, he was aware of the future Champion in his midst.
Lifting the staff, magic burst from his hands, merging with the glow of the crystal as he broke off the first quarter of the staff.
The fragment glowed so brightly that Vi was left blinking, struggling to make out what was happening; the four kneeling before the Champion covered their eyes. But the light and magic faded, revealing a scythe he bestowed on his youngest daughter.
The Champion repeated the process, giving an axe to the next daughter, and a sword to his youngest son. On his eldest’s brow, the Champion settled a crown of crystal.
As soon as the man’s hands left the crown, his body aged. Vi watched as the magic left him like fireflies returning to the sun high above. He swayed from side to side as muscles vanished and his clothes became limp sacks. His skin and hair grayed and his lips curled in.
But his eyes—those eyes that had witnessed the passage of time from beyond its reach, thanks to the hand of Yargen—stayed the same. They were not surprised. They were not in pain.
Vi only saw acceptance and relief in the man’s final moments.
All at once, her awareness returned to her physical body.
As it had with the scythe in the Twilight Kingdom, a soft glow coated her skin, extending from the sword. The magic disappeared like smoke as the vision left her. Fiera and Zira looked at her with startled and slightly worried expressions.
Vi lowered her hands from the blade, taking a step away. She moved slowly so they wouldn’t spook and attack her, and because her head was still spinning, settling back into this time and place.
That vision had been far more vivid than the last. With the scythe, she’d experienced shifting images, feelings, sensations that connected into a story Vi could piece together. This had been a complete scene from start to finish.
“They glow blue, not red…” Zira whispered. “Like the sword.”
Vi lifted her hand to her temple and wished there was a mirror in the room so she could confirm Zira’s murmurings were about her eyes.
“What are you?” Fiera asked as she lowered the sword.
“I am chosen by the Mother to defend this world,” Vi repeated softly, hoping this act of exposing a part of her true nature didn’t adversely affect the future she was working toward. For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, Vi trusted Fiera and Zira more deeply than she likely should. “You will not understand who—what—I am. But you must keep what you have seen a secret. The fate of your world depends on it.”
Zira took another step back. But Fiera was less shaken. She delicately rested the tip of the sword on the stone floor and sank to one knee. She bowed her head.
“Chosen of the Mother, you have my allegiance.”
“Fiera—”
“Zira,” Fiera interrupted sharply. “You saw her. You witnessed her magic. Her blue eyes. Her communing with the sword itself. You must have felt it too—the sensation of fate.”
Zira looked between Fiera and Vi. She swayed slightly, but dropped to her knee after only a moment’s hesitation. “My fate is linked with yours, Fiera. It was declared by the Mother. If you are loyal to her, so am I.”
Vi took a slow breath. Yargen’s power still surged through her. The blade beckoned her with whispering invitations only her ears could hear.
“I require the blade.”
“Require it?” Fiera lifted her head first, then the rest of her. Zira followed the princess back to her feet as well. “This blade has been in my family for—”
“Hundreds of years,” Vi finished. “Yet you do not know where it came from… not really. Nor what it can be used for.” She motioned to the sword. “In that blade is a great and terrible power. The longer you wield it, the more you risk it twisting your body and mind, as well as the bodies and minds of those around you. It calls out to the false Knights of Jadar who rely on lore they don’t understand in an attempt to return themselves to prominence.”
“I cannot give it to you.”
“You must,” Vi insisted.
“The princess said she cannot, so she cannot.” Zira stood, her hand back on the sword at her hip.
“The sword will be used in my wedding to the Emperor as a ceremonial piece,” Fiera began. For the first time, Vi saw doubt on the ever-self-assured woman’s face. “But… after… I had intended to seal it away. Even had you not said so, Yullia, I’m aware that this weapon holds a great power that mortal men aren’t meant to hold. Perhaps, I might entrust it to you at that time.” The princess shook her head, as though she was dismissing the notion as soon as it came to her. “No… I must think on it.”
Vi wanted to insist on Fiera’s compliance, but she’d already made progress. The longer the princess simmered on what had transpired here, the closer she’d be to realizing the truth of Vi’s words.
For now, an openness to giving up the sword would have to be good enough for Vi. Pressing the matter, looking desperate, wouldn’t suit her.
Fiera returned the sword to its scabbard, the scabbard to the wall. No sooner was it back on its pegs than footsteps sounded in the hall. All three women turned, startled.
Two figures approached from the darkness of the hall: Tiberus and Denja.
“There you are, my bride.” Tiberus, once more, went immediately for Fiera. For him, nothing else seemed to exist in a room when she was there. “I have been worried to the sun and back for you.”
“I’m fine.” Fiera squeezed his forearms lightly and took a step away. Even though she wore a smile on her lips, Vi c
ould see the discomfort behind her eyes. She didn’t appreciate the suddenly crowded room any more than Vi did.
“Denja told me what happened on the streets, and that you refused your guard detail.”
“I had a guard detail.” Fiera motioned to Vi and Zira. “Why don’t we all head to a sitting room to discuss these matters? It’ll be far more comfortable.”
“What is this place anyway? You’ve not taken me here before…” The statement trailed off as the Emperor looked around. His attention was quickly consumed by the sword. “This was what you held that night… This must be the Sword of Jadar.”
These weapons attract power-hungry men. Vi keenly heard the words of her father once more. If Tiberus’s expression was any indication, the Knights of Jadar were no longer the only ones who were out for the sword.
“Yes,” Fiera said begrudgingly as she stepped in front of her betrothed. She rested her hands lightly on his upper arms in an attempt to guide him away. “We shall use it at our wedding to bless our union and then it will be sealed away forever.”
“Here? Will it be here?” Tiberus asked, a little too eagerly.
“No, I will find a new spot for it.” Fiera swept her gaze across the room, landing on Denja. Vi didn’t miss the subtle confusion that furrowed Fiera’s brow. “Too many people appear to know of this location.” Then, like magic, her whole expression softened. Fiera gave Tiberus the sweetest, most endearing smile one could imagine. “Now, my love, come with me to procure some refreshments? I’m both parched and starved from all the excitement this morning.”
“Yes, the excitement…” Tiberus looked back to Fiera and his focus returned. “You must tell me what happened.”
“Of course.” Fiera linked their arms, leading Tiberus out of the room. Denja fell into step behind, Vi and Zira pulling up the rear. Fiera locked the door and Vi could feel the pop of magic as she lifted the curtain of flame in the hallway once more.
“Zira,” Vi said lightly, loud enough for Denja to hear but not so loud that it distracted Fiera and Tiberus. “Do you have time now to show me that sword technique you were telling me about earlier?”