by Elise Kova
Taavin appeared off to the side as he usually did—rebuilt from glyphs of light until he looked nearly solid. Only the faint outline of magic around his form betrayed that he wasn’t actually there. He looked from Vi to Deneya, then back to Vi.
“Well, this is early,” he murmured. Then, with his attention squarely on Vi, “Did you miss where I told you to keep yourself a secret and act cautiously?”
“Believe it or not, I’m actually trying to keep myself alive right now.” Vi ground out the words. Couldn’t he see she had a war axe at her throat?
“What sorcery is this?” Deneya whispered, staring at Taavin.
“Can you tell her who I am? You know her from before, right?”
“Yes, I do.” Taavin turned to face Deneya. “Deneya Tallois, daughter of Arullia and Rox. Currently the first knight in Lumeria’s Order of Shadows. She who has been on the Dark Isle defending the Caverns for the past hundred years… It is a pleasure to meet you, again.”
“H-how?” Deneya stuttered. The axe at Vi’s neck quivered and nearly bit into her flesh. Deneya was too startled to notice. “Begone elfin’ra specter!” She swung the weapon toward Taavin. It cut straight through him as though he was made of nothing but mist. It didn’t seem to harm him, but the sight was a phantom blow to Vi’s gut.
“I am not wicked. I am the eternal Voice of Yargen,” Taavin continued calmly. “I have served her for hundreds of years. In my last lifetimes, in this, and in the next.”
“You are not the Voice of Yargen. She is—”
“Fathima, and she has been the voice for the past two hundred years,” Taavin finished. “And she will perish in the next twenty to thirty years… depending on certain factors, which will give room for Ulvarth to make his power play against Lumeria.”
Deneya frowned, lowering her weapon—though she still held it so tightly, her hand trembled. Vi took it as a good sign that she had yet to brandish it against them again.
“Earlier, you said hoolo.” Deneya looked to Vi. “One of Raspian’s words? Is this man his work?”
“No,” Vi said quickly. “You would feel it if it was.” She remembered the sensation of the elfin’ra using the word on Adela’s Isle of Frost. It was unmistakable.
“And the dark god is sealed away, unable to give new words,” Taavin continued for Vi.
“Then… what are you?”
Vi took a deep breath and Taavin remained silent, yielding her the floor. Deneya finally relaxed, releasing the axe. It unraveled into strands of light and disappeared.
“I realize that what I am about to say is hard to believe,” Vi began, working up her courage. “I am the Champion of Yargen, and I have been placed here by the goddess herself to defend this world from Raspian’s return.” Vi worked on bite-sized pieces of information.
“The Voice would’ve sent word if Yargen was giving us a Champion once more,” Deneya said cautiously.
“As far as this world is concerned, we don’t exist.” Taavin smiled bitterly.
“Think of us more as travelers, passing through,” Vi added.
“If you’re truly the Champion, prove it to me. Tell or show me something that only the Champion can do.”
“Have you ever met a Champion before?” Vi asked.
“Well, no…”
“Then how will you know it’s something only the Champion can do?” she challenged.
“I…” Deneya let out a low chuckle. “You’re almost drawing me in to this insanity, both of you.”
“Deneya,” Taavin said firmly, silencing the woman. “With the help of the proctor, you cheated your way through the written portion of your examinations to enter into Lumeria’s Order. You did so not because you couldn’t remember the information—but because the words dance on the page before your eyes, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to finish in the allotted time.”
“How do you—” Deneya took a step back, horror overtaking her features.
“Your tutor, the proctor, died in a skirmish in the south of Meru, leaving you alone with the truth of what you both did. Despite his assurances, you have always worried that you are not good enough for your post.”
“I…” Deneya looked between the two of them. Vi could see the hasty rise and fall of her chest as her breathing quickened, panic settling in. “I never told anyone that,” she whispered.
“You told her.” Taavin gave a nod at Vi. “In a past life. You trusted her because she is the Champion and because she is a woman worth trusting.”
Vi felt a frisson of heat rising to her cheeks at his praise.
Deneya took a step backward, her back meeting the wall. Slowly, she began to laugh, shaking her head. “This is madness. This is impossible.”
“But here we stand,” Vi said.
“Glad one of us knows where we stand because I’m not sure which way is up anymore.” She cast a wary eye over Vi and Taavin. “I need time to deal with all this.”
“Fine.” Mother above, even Vi was still processing what was happening to her. And she had the benefit—if one could call it that—of living through the goddess rebuilding her body to send her back in time.
“But while you do so, swear you will not act against the Champion. And swear you will not report back to Lumeria or anyone else on Meru of her presence here, or of my existence,” Taavin cautioned.
“Why?”
“I’m walking the razor’s edge of fate and the only way we’re all getting out of this alive is if I have as much control as possible,” Vi said confidently, perhaps more confidently than she felt. “I don’t need more variables I can’t control complicating an already-complicated situation. You’re the only one in this world who knows who I am. I don’t want to regret that trust.”
“Not even Fiera?” Deneya had a look of genuine surprise.
“No.” Though Vi suspected Fiera had some inkling of what Vi was, even if she didn’t have the words to describe it. “Do I have your word?”
“On one condition.”
“I don’t remember this turning into a negotiation.” Vi folded her arms over her chest.
“It’s not every day I get to negotiate with the agent of a goddess.” Deneya smirked and swung her eyes to Taavin. “You seem to know so much. Perhaps you know what I’m about to barter for?”
“It varies.” Taavin’s answer only seemed to unnerve Deneya more. She stared at him for another long second, but abandoned whatever thought she had as she looked back to Vi.
“You give me no reason to suspect you’re up to anything. No funny business. Be on your best behavior.” Deneya’s attention turned to the sword. “And that… I don’t know what it is you intend to do with it. But if you’re seeking it out, you must have some plan for it. Whatever that is, you don’t get to act until you tell me. I’m on this Yargen-forsaken rock to watch over those weapons and the tomb. So if you do something with the sword—or any other weapon—you’re right in the line of my duty.”
Vi looked back to the sword, then Taavin. He had told her they needed to act slowly and be cautious. Making this promise to Deneya seemed in line with that objective. Vi also couldn’t make her play on the sword until after Fiera’s wedding.
“Fine, I accept your deal,” Vi said casually, trying not to convey any hesitation or doubt. The Champion wouldn’t waver. She had to be steadfast in her decisions.
“Good, because I’m tired and desperately want to go to bed and find out this was all a bad dream.” Deneya yawned for emphasis. “When I see you tomorrow, it should go without saying, none of this happened.” Vi locked eyes with the woman and gave a small nod. Deneya returned it, stepped backward, and uttered, “Wein.”
A glyph shot out from her midsection. Splitting into two, one rose vertically to the crown of her head and the other dropped to her feet. The two circles of light faded as they swirled around Deneya, as though they were wrapping her up in a magic casement. Power glittered across her skin as she stepped back through Fiera’s flames unharmed.
“Wein,” V
i repeated thoughtfully. Just like Taavin’s word, uncose, it did nothing for her.
“She received that word from Yargen before she came to the Dark Isle. It acts like a personal shield from attack. It’s most like what you know as Groundbreakers’ stone skin,” Taavin said factually, as though it were obvious.
“If you know so much, why didn’t you warn me she was coming?” Vi rounded on him.
“I didn’t think it’d happen so soon.” He lifted up his hands defensively. “Perhaps it’s your recklessness that’s speeding things up. Recklessness… like summoning me to appear before her.”
Vi cursed under her breath, working to calm the spark crackling up her spine. “I didn’t know what else to do. And when I figured out she was from Meru, I just thought…” Vi shook her head, feeling the spark abate. “I don’t know what I thought.”
“I’m sorry for snapping, too.” Taavin heard the apology in her tone. His hands clasped over her shoulders. “This is exactly what I’m trying to protect you from—what I was telling you earlier. There is variance. Very few things are perfectly identical in any of these recreated worlds. Even though there are stones in the river, the little leaves bob and sway along the water’s currents—each acting according to its own will.”
“Even so, you could’ve told me it was going to happen eventually. You could’ve prepared me so I wasn’t caught off-guard.”
“Foremost, I didn’t think it’d happen for weeks yet. And truly, I didn’t see how it would have helped you any. I couldn’t give you specifics even if I wanted to. Maybe you would’ve had this confrontation in a council room after everyone had dispersed. Or on a training field. Or in a hall one night on your way here.” He spoke with such certainty that Vi had no doubt all of those things had, at some point, happened. “All I would’ve accomplished by telling you would have been putting you on edge nearly all the time.”
“I want to know,” Vi insisted. “You want to know what I do in this timeline? I need to know what I’ve done.”
“I don’t want you to act rashly.” He smiled tenderly. But Vi only felt more frustrated. “Take things slowly. We’ll figure out the best way to take the sword when the time is right.”
When would the time be right: before or after Fiera’s death?
Vi kept the question to herself. She didn’t want to worry him more. And there was only so much she could accomplish in one night. It had been a long few days, and she was very tired.
“Very well,” Vi agreed finally. “I trust you.”
“And I trust you.” He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. It was little more than the ghost of warmth. “Now, go rest. I can feel your exhaustion.”
Vi nodded and released the glyphs.
“Do you trust me?” she whispered to the empty air. If he trusted her, he would arm her with information. But all Vi was getting were crumbs and a heavy dose of skepticism from him; should he give her anything more, she’d take it and run head-first into the end of the world.
Chapter Thirteen
“You must set them free.” Fiera slammed an open palm against the council table. “It has been long enough.”
“Weeks, it has been weeks,” Tiberus growled. His patience was visibly running thin, the man’s hair a mess from constantly raking his fingers through it. “It’s not nearly enough time to let loose those who called not only for my death, but the death of my men—and perhaps now the death of you, since you are to be my wife.”
“They are my soldiers and would never harm me,” Fiera insisted.
“Like those men on the streets would never harm you?” He arched his eyebrows.
“Those were riff-raff, not my men.” Fiera leaned forward. “All you are doing, Tiberus, is risking gratitude turning into resentment.”
Vi volleyed her attention between the two most powerful people on the continent. Technically, Tiberus’s say was the only one that mattered. But he deferred to Fiera in a far greater way than an Emperor should. She still didn’t know what Fiera felt for the man. But Tiberus’s feelings were clear enough in his actions.
Zira leaned over, whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we just walked out?”
“Be my guest and risk it if you’d like,” Vi mumbled.
The whole council had been confined for at least a half hour as the debate raged on. Everyone looked uncomfortable.
Vi caught Deneya’s eyes across the table, but the woman glanced at her for only a second. The fact that it had been a week and she had yet to say anything to Vi, or act out of the ordinary, was a testament to her training from Queen Lumeria.
“You’re being utterly unreasonable.” Fiera threw up her hands. “You were the one who set out to conquer. You can’t expect the rest of the continent to roll over like Cyven.”
“I do not expect the West to handle their change in rulership with the same grace as the East.” It was a low jab from Tiberus, one that made Lord Twintle’s head turn and eyes narrow.
Vi closed her eyes and took in a slow breath. She had to work to prevent it from coming out as a heavy sigh. Fiera was all fire and passion, no doubt playing up those traits because of how easily they got under Tiberus’s skin. Usually, this enabled her to push him in the direction she wanted him to go.
“May I propose a compromise?” Vi asked, allowing the remnants of her years as a royal to seep back into her tone. She couldn’t tolerate this a moment longer.
The Emperor appeared startled she’d spoken up, but Fiera gave her a trusting smile and said, “I’d love to hear it.”
“Thank you.” Vi stood. “Your graces, I think I—we all—understand your respective wishes. My proposal is this: release the confined soldiers in several rounds in the coming weeks. The first round would be soldiers willing to put their skills to use and serve in their new Empire’s army. Also in that round would be the sons and daughters of any nobility.”
She gave a look to Twintle, remembering Luke, who was still trapped in the encampment.
“The next round would be those who do not wish to fight, but have a valuable trade skill. Put them to work and keep their hands and minds busy with rebuilding their city, so they do not think to turn against you.
“The final round would be those remaining.” Vi thought a moment, running the suggestion over a final time in her head. “If any have nefarious intentions, they will likely show their colors as they lose patience.”
Vi finished and glanced between Fiera and the Emperor. The former had gone stony faced and Vi couldn’t discern if the suggestion was pleasing or upsetting. The Emperor on the other hand was far more transparent with his emotions, giving Vi hope when he finally said, “Your new knight speaks wisely.”
“Thank you, your grace.” Vi bowed her head and sat.
“What do you say, my love?”
“It’s a fair suggestion,” Fiera finally relented. “A week between each round?”
“A month,” Tiberus fired back.
“Two weeks.” Fiera’s mouth quirked into a tiny grin. Fondness alighted in her eyes, brought out by the banter.
“Very well.” Tiberus chuckled. “Two weeks, and let none claim that Tiberus Solaris does not bend before his bride.” He stepped away from the table and everyone stood on cue. “Now, may I steal that bride for a drink before dinner?”
The royals departed, and everyone in the room seemed to immediately sit straighter, a weight lifted.
“About time.” Twintle gathered his papers, shoving them unceremoniously into his folio. “Our loyal Westerners have rotted in their prisons long enough.”
“They have been kept comfortable,” Zira said firmly.
Vi remembered her time in the “containment shelter” and how quickly the once-glorious manor house devolved into squalor when crammed with soldiers who didn’t have proper access to something as simple as a bath. She wasn’t sure if comfortable was the right word.
“Comfortable? You think confinement is comfortable?” Twintle grumbled. “I cannot wait to he
ar just how comfortable my son has been these past weeks when he is back in his home where he belongs.”
“Luke comes from good stock. He’ll be—”
“Good day to you all,” Twintle cut Zira off curtly, striding out of the room without a backward glance.
The other councilors gathered their things quietly, the tension in the air slowing their movements to a glacial pace.
“What a mess,” Zira mumbled.
“Empire building is rarely tidy.” Vi stood. “At least we found an acceptable solution.”
“One can only hope they both think it’s acceptable come morning.”
“What about Kahrin? Will she be out with Luke?”
“No, she’ll likely get out with the tradesmen. She’s the daughter of a miner to the north of Norin and became a Knight seeking glory. I think she’s had enough of fighting for one lifetime.” Vi could only hope that was true. The fewer angry Knights of Jadar she had to contend with, the better. Zira sighed. “I really do hope this is the last of it. Fiera needs to focus on planning her wedding… it’s coming up soon.”
“Yullia,” Deneya interrupted them. “May I borrow you for a word in my office?”
“Certainly.”
“This way.” Deneya started out the room. Vi shrugged at Zira as if she had no idea what this could be about, then followed the minister down the hall and into a closet-like office. She closed the door behind them, locked it, grabbed Vi’s hand, and uttered, “Durroe sallvas tempre.”
A glyph formed between their locked palms.
“You certainly have my attention.” Vi looked between their hands and Deneya’s face.
“I didn’t want to risk anyone else overhearing.” Deneya’s grip was firm and unflinching. “I’ve been thinking about what you said and I must ask, what is your goal here?”
“I already told you, I—”
“Yes, agent of Yargen or some such.” Deneya shook her head. “What are your goals as that agent—Champion, rather—acting on behalf of Yargen? What are you hoping to achieve?”
“To protect—”
Deneya pressed her free palm to her forehead and sighed. When she spoke again, it was with the same tone Vi would use to explain a difficult concept to a child. “I understand all that. You’re here on behalf of Yargen, protecting the sword. Our goals really aren’t that different.”