by Boyce, S. M.
He inspected the sea creature, trying to gauge the angle he would need to make this work. If he leaned forward just right, and dove away at the end—
Iyra nudged his back and kept her nose against his shirt, since physical contact was the only way the two of them could communicate.
Calm down, Prince. You’re going to get us killed, she said.
“But I think I figured it out. You might want to step back, Iyra.”
She huffed again and trotted off to the treeline. Her rear hit the forest floor with a whump.
Braeden cracked his knuckles and tensed. If he didn’t get this right the first time, it would probably hurt.
Braeden didn’t get it right the first time. Or the second time. Or the fifth. He managed to burn most of the foliage within a quarter-mile radius before his sixth attempt, when he somehow managed to get fire in the dragon’s mouth and water in the sea serpent’s mouth before both shot back out at him.
“Finally!” he yelled.
He waited on the tips of his toes, ready to dodge the attacks again, but the forest settled. The air stalled. Nothing moved through the trees. Nothing chirped or squeaked. Somewhere behind him, Iyra caught her breath. Braeden didn’t dare breathe for fear of jinxing his only idea of how to break the seal on this irritating lichgate.
The dragon’s ruby eyes glowed. The sea serpent’s sapphire eyes glimmered not long after. A shiver raced through the statues, knocking dust from their scales.
The crunch of splintering stone broke through the clearing. The sea serpent’s neck slithered, unwinding itself from its perch. It moved like a living creature, save for the incessant groan of rock scraping against itself. Dust fell from its body and hung in a cloud around its face. From the recesses of its throat, the statue’s mouth glowed blue.
The dragon dropped to all fours. The ground shook. Braeden spread his arms to brace himself. The dragon darted to the wall and stopped mere feet from it, claws digging into the dirt. Orange light spilled from the corners of its mouth, casting a warm glow on the wall. It tucked its wings in close and tensed like a hunter preparing to attack.
Braeden inched backward, not wanting to attract either statue’s attention.
The serpent drew up next to the dragon and braced itself as well. Both statues hissed, something within their bellies crackling. A gust swept through the trees, but the stone creatures’ humming overpowered it with a sudden roar of thunder.
Flame shot from the dragon just as a spiral of water burst from the sea serpent’s mouth. Both streams hit the wall in the same spot. Steam raced through the clearing like a dense fog.
Braeden coughed and tried to wave the mist away, but it clung to him the more he tried to lift it. He took shallow breaths in an effort to not breathe much of it in. Seconds crept by, too slow for his comfort. Nothing happened. Nothing moved. Not a single cracking twig broke the thick silence. It was all he could do to stand still. At any moment, either statue could barrel through the haze and turn its magic on him. He didn’t know what he would do if that happened. If they were anything like the wall, no magical technique he knew could stop them.
Finally, a pale ray of sunlight broke through the white steam. A few more followed suit as the cloud dissolved. Braeden sucked in a deep breath, but he didn’t dare relax. A trickle of fear swept down his spine as he examined the thinning fog. Not far off, the silhouettes of the two statues caught the light, both hunched toward the ground, frozen in a bow. Neither moved. Braeden inched closer, step by tiny step. An archway appeared just beyond them, two streams of light now blazing across the black stones that still blocked Braeden’s way.
A hot breath rolled over Braeden’s neck. He turned, tensed for a fight, but Iyra’s massive black eyes stared down at him, inches from his face. He sighed and shook his head, brushing a hand across her nose so that he could communicate with her.
Don’t sneak up on me like that, he snapped.
Sorry.
Braeden took two cautious steps forward with Iyra on his heels. As he neared, a dull glow snaked across the stone wall barring the archway. The glow became two strings of light: one red and one blue. As he watched, the lights became snakes, each blazing with the intensity of a star. They wound around each other in the crude shape of a clover, their tails intertwined. Their heads met in the middle.
Is that—? Iyra asked.
Braeden nodded. I think that’s the symbol of Ethos. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen it. I’ve just heard it described.
It looks like the Vagabond’s clover symbol.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he got some inspiration from Ethos.
The snakes slithered away from each other. Braeden tensed and stepped back. The two beams of light raced around to the other side of the stone bricks. As soon as they disappeared, cracks broke along the mortar. A rumble began somewhere deep in the wall. The charred remnants of nearby trees rattled. Pebbles fell from the black stones first, followed by entire blocks.
Iyra grabbed a loose bit of Braeden’s shirt with her teeth as the rocks continued breaking apart. She tugged him backward. He allowed it, transfixed as he was on the tumbling seal keeping him from the Stele. His jaw tensed as he watched the melee, hoping with all his might that this would somehow work.
The rumble faded. Pebbles and the occasional brick still tumbled to the ground, so he and Iyra kept to the outer rim of the clearing. It took a few minutes for the air to clear, but each grain of dust glittered like a small fire as the sun’s orange glow trickled through the haze. The clearing glimmered with light.
Braeden shielded his eyes with his arm until the glow faded. When the brilliant light finally disappeared, he relaxed and let himself look, daring to hope he’d done this right.
The archway still stood, but only mountains of black rubble on either side of the lichgate remained of the wall that once blocked his way underneath. The muted blues of a lake appeared through the lichgate, diluted by the portal’s sheer face. Braeden peeked around the archway for good measure, only to find the endless forest beyond. No lake. He couldn’t find a recognizable piece of the statues, though he suspected the four gemstones that served as their eyes lay somewhere beneath the piles of rocks.
He grinned. “About time we got past this!”
Iyra grunted in agreement.
He’d really done it. A sigh of relief crept into his throat, only to die midway. He’d done it, which meant he would actually have to go back into the Stele to spy on his father’s troop movements and uncover any new fortifications. Even though this was his idea, a small and terrified part of him had expected to never make it this far. He feared returning to the Stele when his father ruled it—at any moment, he could walk into a trap.
Braeden took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. If he would ever be free of his father, he would have to face the man again. He would have to fight, and he would have to kill. Otherwise, he would forever be his father’s slave.
Iyra nudged Braeden’s arm and knelt. He forced a smile and hopped onto her back, preparing himself for what lay ahead. He would have to return at least a dozen times over the next few weeks to track the Stele’s progress, so he might as well take it easy today. He wouldn’t go too far. He wouldn’t stay too long.
Iyra walked through the lichgate and into the Stele. Blue light flashed in Braeden’s peripheral vision, and his stomach twisted with a sudden burst of nausea. Though he recognized the telltale signs of walking through a lichgate, another tremor shot through him as his body recognized its home. Without a doubt, he’d just walked into the Stele.
Great.
They stood on the edge of a lake high in the mountains. Flies buzzed near the water. An otter dipped out of sight, leaving ripples on the still surface. The sun blazed overhead, its rays setting the lake’s surface ablaze with shimmers of golden light.
The Stele offered all its subjects protection, but the grounds spoke to Braeden in an entirely different way. Without ever having visited this lake before, he could sen
se a submerged network of caves in its depths. And though the distant crash of a waterfall drifted toward him, he knew it would be exactly three quarters of a mile to his left. It was instinct. He and the kingdom shared a connection, one he guessed it shared with every royal before him as well—even Carden.
A silent command for troops to assemble outside the barracks drifted through the Stele from none other than Carden himself. A weight settled on Braeden’s shoulders to obey—by right, he was Carden’s general and should be leading those soldiers. The desire to sprint toward the castle flickered within him, but he suppressed it just as quickly. At least he could disobey his father, even if the desire to obey became stronger when Carden was close. The other Stelians had no choice.
If Braeden’s plan to attack the Stele worked, he would kill his father and finally know freedom. And when the Stelian people were his, he would allow them their first taste of independence as well.
CHAPTER THREE
INHERITANCE
Someone toyed with the locked handle to Kara’s office. The latch wriggled, metal scraping against the gears, but Kara didn’t move from her place on the floor. She sat cross-legged, shoulders hunched as she stared at the cracks in the hardwood. Flick, however, jumped out of her lap and trotted to investigate.
The rattling stopped. With a click, the lock slid back. The handle turned, sliding open at whatever silent command came from the person in the hallway. Kara bit her lip in annoyance—that was a charmed lock, one that shouldn’t open for anyone except the person who locked it. But she figured one isen would know how to unlock it anyway: Stone.
She wanted to tell him to go away, that she wouldn’t stack another stupid brick, but she kept silent. She still hadn’t recovered from lighting her own desk on fire. She didn’t trust herself to talk yet. Or move. Or be near people.
Kara closed her eyes. The door creaked open. Footsteps thudded along the wood floor panels. The door shut. The footsteps stopped by the entrance, as if inspecting something. The hair on the back of Kara’s neck stood on end.
A frame scraped the wall. Stone must have adjusted a picture hanging there. All she could think of was the portrait of the man she still didn’t recognize.
“What do you want, Stone?” she asked.
He chuckled. “You’re just like your grandfather.”
She cringed and snapped her head around to glare at him. “Don’t compare me to that murderer.”
Her grandfather—Agneon—murdered too many Oureans to count. Isen, yakona, drenowith—he killed them all. Murder was the only thing he could do well. He even killed her grandmother. Kara didn’t want to be compared to such a vile man.
Stone shook his head. “When he killed, your grandfather was merely obeying orders. You know an isen must do as his master commands, and Niccoli wanted those people dead. In most cases, Agneon had no choice. It’s the same as saying if I wanted you to kill someone, you would have to do it. So he did as any slave does. When he couldn’t cope with the murders, he found an escape to avoid the guilt. At first, it was women in general. Over his centuries...well, I’m sure you don’t want the details. But when he met your grandmother, he found love for the first time in his life. He—”
“He killed her,” Kara interrupted.
“He loved her. More than anything or anyone. They were passionate, hot, and testy, but it was love. And in his passion, he lost himself. He lost control. Yes, he killed her. But it was an accident.”
Kara grimaced. “How do you accidentally kill the person you love? I could never do that.”
“You didn’t intend to knock over those bricks for four solid hours, either.”
“That’s different.”
“Hardly. You couldn’t control yourself enough to do something so simple as hit a target. Agneon couldn’t control his power, either, and your grandmother was unfortunate enough to be in the way. How are the two of you any different?”
Kara’s jaw tensed. She didn’t answer.
Stone cleared his throat. “I wasn’t trying to shame you. I just want you to you understand. Why have you taken to moping? It’s not like you.”
She stared at the bookshelf across from her. “I don’t want to hurt people, Stone.”
“Then focus. If you’re paying attention, you won’t.”
“Of course I’m focused. You think I want to hurt people?”
“That’s not what I said.”
She pointed at the charred remnants of her desk. “I set that on fire trying to light a candle! I was calm. I was clear-headed enough. But this new power isn’t manageable, Stone. I’ll kill people!”
She walked to a window and leaned her forehead against the glass pane. The hot glass burned her skin, but she sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to endure the heat. Forty feet off, trees swayed in a summer breeze while Kara waited for something in her life to make sense again.
Stone sighed. “Life is not simple, Kara, but you are strong enough to overcome this. It’s a setback. Your grandfather went through it, too.”
She gritted her teeth at being compared yet again to the murderer, but she didn’t say anything.
Stone stepped a little closer, and she looked over her shoulder. The old isen stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, eyeing her. His salt-and-pepper hair and mustache made her think yet again of Shakespeare, but she could never see Stone creating art of any kind. He was a scientist. He dissected anything and everything he could until he understood it.
He crossed to her window and examined the forest. “Your grandfather went through just as much self-doubt and fear, Kara. This is your family’s curse, and it’s yours now. When you became an isen, your body fine-tuned itself. You’re stronger and designed to manipulate magic. Thanks to the bloodline you inherited from your grandfather, you function in a unique way. There isn’t another isen like you. Energy is constantly flowing into you, and it builds up when you’re not using it. So when you do use a technique, it explodes. You lose control.”
“Then what’s the point of this wrist guard?”
“It limits the intake of energy, but nothing can stop your magic completely. The guard teaches you to control the power over time.”
Kara nodded to the burnt desk. “This thing’s not teaching me anything.”
Stone crossed his arms and stared at the singed remains of her desk. Kara leaned against the wall. Angst and energy burned in her gut, but she couldn’t go there. She needed to stay calm, even when trapped and hoping for an answer she wasn’t sure would come.
Stone caught her eye. “May I show you something?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“His home.”
Kara balked. “Agneon’s? Didn’t he live with Niccoli’s guild?”
She didn’t want anything to do with Niccoli, and she would never go near him again if she could avoid it. He controlled a powerful group of isen—his guild—and rumor had it he ran the largest and most powerful guild in Ourea. That vile isen told her what she was, and he only wanted her for her power. He wanted to make her a true slave, one who killed as often as her grandfather. If Stone hadn’t awakened her as an isen and became her master, Niccoli would have managed to do it eventually.
Stone shook his head. “Sometimes, Agneon and your grandmother would run off to a second home. It’s where he kept most of his things. It’s also where he killed her.”
Kara narrowed her eyes. “Why the hell would I want to see that place, then?”
“He left something for his daughter. For his heirs. I want you to see the pain he endured every day. Once you do, I think you’ll realize you two aren’t so different after all.”
Kara hesitated. When she did finally speak, her voice was almost too low to hear. “I don’t think I want to know that.”
Stone inched closer. “He wasn’t evil, Kara. Neither are you. I just can’t help you anymore. I can’t understand why you react the way you do. But maybe if you see what he endured, you will be better equipped to handle this new ener
gy. Will you go?”
Without answering, Kara set her forehead on the window once more. Heat crawled over her skin like a fog, soothing her racing thoughts. For a moment, she relaxed.
She did want answers. She did want help. She couldn’t control herself. If Agneon lost control and killed the woman he loved after centuries of learning to master himself, what was stopping Kara from doing the same to Braeden? Her shoulders sagged. She would do anything for Braeden, even if it meant learning she was more like her grandfather than she wanted to believe.
“When should we go?” she asked.
Stone nodded, as if she had finally seen reason. Perhaps she had.
“We should leave now. It’s quite a trek from here, and you’ll need all the time you can spare to sort through the house. Let’s fly. Pick your mount.”
“Shouldn’t we use Flick? He can teleport.”
“He can’t teleport through lichgates, which would leave us walking through three portals in dangerous areas. We should fly.”
“All right, then. Let’s take the black dragon from the Grimoire. I think he can fit us both.”
Stone shuddered. “I don’t ride mounts if I can help it. I’ll be fine.”
Kara laughed. “It’s not like you can fly, Stone.”
“There are several perks to having stolen a drenowith’s soul.” He grinned.
Kara’s smile fell. She gaped at the old isen, comprehension spreading over her mind like a frost.
“You can change form?” she asked.
Stone nodded. “Summon your mount, but Flick cannot come. You need to experience this house alone. We should leave now.”
Kara straightened her back and snapped her mouth shut. One of the few people she trusted had kept yet another secret from her. Her mentors didn’t seem to trust her with the truth.
She crossed her arms. “Why wouldn’t you tell me you can change form? That would have saved the long trip here after you turned me.”
He shrugged. “I never wanted you to return here. You weren’t ready, but you wouldn’t shut up about it. I figured a longer journey would give you more time to learn to control yourself, but my ploy obviously didn’t work. And there is much you don’t know about me, child. I doubt you will ever learn it all.”