This was all my doing. It’s up to me to get it right.
She looked up, able to sense, if not see, the ruvaki masters floating in their pods, which she now knew were meant to prolong their relatively clipped life spans. Yet, despite the importance of her task, which required she place herself firmly in a certain frame of mind, she couldn’t help but find herself drifting in the opposite direction.
All the battles and bloodshed, the countless enemy soldiers eradicated by her hand, and even more innocent people trampled beneath the weight of ruvaki hatred. So much pain spawned by these very figures, suspended helpless—though they knew it not—above her. All of it could be made right with the barest thought or flick of her wrist.
Justice could at last be served.
Her upward gaze drifted over to Mevon’s downturned face. She knew that this was his influence talking, but also knew that he’d berate her, gently of course, for letting such thoughts linger as long as they had. What was easy wasn’t always right—abyss, it almost never was—and too often, what people passed off as natural, as normal, even, were the worst things anyone could possibly do.
She’d seen what walking of the path of vengeance and hatred did. She’d been walking it her whole life. Now, it was time to try forgiveness.
Mevon’s eyes locked with her own. The love evident in that gaze filled her soul, but not, as she had hoped, to brimming. Jasside focused, looking inward, surrendering all thoughts of pain as she searched for the part in her that needed nothing else but love.
It was then that she discovered her second surprise of the day.
Delving within her own body, Jasside found not a single heartbeat . . . but two.
My child . . .
She raised one hand next to Tassariel’s while the other landed gently over her abdomen, smiling as she released a deluge of dark energy into the maelstrom above.
Vashodia knew she had made two mistakes.
The first was obvious, as her brain kept endlessly reminding her: She’d listened to her heart.
Abyss take that accursed thing. I thought I’d rid myself of its influence millennia ago.
She had wasted her only opportunity to deal a crippling blow to the ruvak, one from which they’d never recover. And not only that, but using the power of the voltensi to divide the continent and cut off the invading army had suspended their latent function.
Ruvaki skyships had begun pouring into the empire almost instantly.
And try as she might to coax them back to life, she’d drained too much of their power for a swift recovery. It would take them days at least to return to normal. Based on their flight trajectories, the ruvaki fleets would be at each outer voltensus in tolls. That this central one might last a month wouldn’t matter much when every human soul on the planet—besides herself, of course—lay beyond abyss’s gate.
Vengeance would come in time—of that she had no doubt—but it would pale before the outright victory she had planned.
If, of course, her second mistake didn’t lead to a very swift end.
Accessing the voltensi had drained her, as well. So much so that she’d been left unconscious on the floor for abyss knew how long. And when she’d awoken, just moments ago, there’d been a dagger held sharp and cold across her throat.
“Hello, Vashodia,” Slick Ren whispered into her ear from behind. “I’ve been waiting a long, long time for you to slip up. It looks like today is my lucky day.”
Vashodia groaned. Even if she had strength left to access her power, she could never get over her own weakness. A weakness that, despite her unmatched skill and foresight, had thrown a spike into the wheel of her plans, time and time again. Which had made her wait far too long to eliminate Rekaj from the equation, among other things. Which made her—she shuddered to even think the word—reliant upon others to fulfill her bidding.
Vashodia was . . . slow.
“Don’t make a move,” the empress demanded. “I want to enjoy this.”
“How did you find me?”
“I rebuilt this palace using the original plans, even if I did change most of the decorations. Did you really think a secret hallway leading from the royal bedchamber would escape my notice?”
“I was careful.”
Slick Ren snorted. “My guards are loyal. Though, in fairness, I don’t suppose you’d know what that was like. All you ever inspired was fear.”
“It’s the easiest way to control people.”
“One tool among many. I never understood why you limited yourself to the tactic, but now I see—you were too arrogant to think you’d need anything else.”
“I was—I am without equal, in almost every respect. Arrogance is justified.”
“Confidence can be justified, even if it’s rarely earned. Arrogance? Never.”
Vashodia grunted in contempt. “What do you know? You’re nothing but a trumped-up thief who weaseled her way into the bed of the man everyone knew would become emperor. Do you really think I wouldn’t take steps to protect myself? Steps you wouldn’t see before you woke up in the abyss?”
The words, she hated to admit, were a bluff. That accursed heart of hers had filled her thoughts, preventing her from taking any such insulating measures. She really needed to look into ways of eliminating its influence for good.
If I survive this, that is.
Though she couldn’t see it, Vashodia practically felt the woman sneer behind her. “If you had anything in place, you’d have activated it by now.”
“Would I? I happen to have a fairly benign association with your husband. Killing you would put a damper on our relationship.”
“Cheeky bitch.”
“Whore.”
Just as Vashodia felt the steel press down a little tighter on her throat, she heard the soft shuffle of footsteps approaching from behind.
Both of them grew still. After a moment, Vashodia felt Slick Ren draw in a breath as she turned her head.
“Why did you come?” the empress asked. “I told you I would handle this alone.”
When no answer came that she could hear, Vashodia knew who stood behind them.
“No,” Slick Ren said, in response to an unseen query. “We were just having a friendly chat. Weren’t we, little miss cancer-on-two-legs?”
“As friendly as they come,” Vashodia mockingly agreed. “Why don’t you join us, Derthon? Though, I’m afraid I haven’t prepared any tea.”
The footsteps sounded again, closer this time, and soon the man himself strode slowly into view. He looked strange, wrapped head-to-toe as he was in bandaging cloth. It was no surprise, really. The last time she’d seen him, Vashodia had been removing the last strip of skin from his body. It wasn’t something people exactly recovered from.
His hands flicked in a pattern Vashodia couldn’t recognize. Though she’d learned many of the sign languages that had cropped up over the centuries, this one was foreign to her; a private speech built between brother and sister alone.
“I will not release her,” Slick Ren said. “Have you gone insane?”
Bandaged hands flowed together again.
Behind her, Vashodia felt the empress shake her head. “She doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.”
Despite her best efforts to keep it at bay—especially after its recent outburst—Vashodia felt her heart stirring once more.
Derthon knelt in front of her, placing his forehead a few finger-widths away. He raised both hands toward her face. One dipped under her chin, grasping his sister’s wrist and pulling it—and the blade held tightly in her grip—away from Vashodia’s throat.
The other traced down the side of her face, in what could almost be called a caress.
The man coughed, then bored his gaze into her skull.
“I . . . pity . . . you,” he said in a raspy, throaty voice.
Released at last by Slick Ren, Vashodia fell limp to the floor.
Long after the two siblings had left her, she dredged up the will to rouse herself. When she took a look
around her, she discovered something unexpected. Something—dare she even think it—good.
Both soulstones were glowing like they had from the moment she’d first created them.
Jasside and Draevenus were both still alive.
Vashodia closed her eyes. Over the span of several marks, she recovered enough to energize to the barest degree, then tapped into the energy circuits of the voltensus, reaching out to sense what was going on in the farthest corners of the empire.
The ruvaki skyships that had entered from the western, eastern, and northern territories had all turned around. Those that had entered from the south were settling down near the stranded ruvaki army.
It took her a moment to realize that they were loading up with soldiers, one by one, before flying away once more.
Chapter 24
It was a rare cold day in Panisahldron, when a wind carrying chill from the mountains of Kavenmoor never rested, and the sun stayed hidden behind clouds. Such days had always stood out to Arivana, not only for their rarity, but also because each time they came was an excuse to try on all her winter clothes, which were usually packed away in some dusty trunk, only thought about when taking trips up north. They were some of the few occasions when she and her sisters could all get along.
It’s funny how finding a common interest, something mutually beneficial, made us forget the petty bickering for a time. I guess it’s hard to hate someone when you can no longer ignore your similarities.
The cold wasn’t the only thing rare about the day, however. After weeks on end of clearing rubble from the ruins, they were finally ready to begin rebuilding.
Tens of thousands of carpenters and masons, architects and engineers, and countless unskilled hands had come together for the undertaking, and now toiled in the streets below. Daye had taken to his new role as her people’s king, and was even now down among them, taking part as much as he was directing them like he was supposed to. No one had any plans to reconstruct it exactly as it had been before. Not only would it be nearly impossible, and take far too long to accomplish, most people—herself included—knew that ludicrous displays of wealth were no longer necessary. Beauty would always be a major part of her people’s identity. Just not the kind found on the outside anymore.
All the survivors really needed was a place to call home.
Amidst the hammers and nails, stone blocks and wooden planks, Arivana also witnessed the occasional flash of sorcery, either bright or shadowed, as structures reached various stages of completion. Though none here could form solid matter from thin air, as could Jasside or Vashodia, magic still made many aspects of construction both easier and quicker. It wasn’t even noon and the first building—a modest tenement—had already sprung up. And just below where her skyship hovered, she watched as a second was guided into its final shape by two familiar flying figures.
Tassariel maneuvered each massive, prebuilt segment onto the framework, then held it in place while Draevenus secured it by driving metal spikes with a quick flick of both wrist and magic. Together, they were able to do in a few marks what would normally take a hundred workers tolls to accomplish. The roof was the last piece. After it settled, Draevenus drew a mallet from his waistband, breathed deep, and gave the whole thing a good smack.
A cheer rose from the workers below as the building failed to crumble into dust.
“Looks sturdy enough from up here!” Arivana shouted.
The two turned towards her, necks craned skyward and smiles on their faces.
“Why don’t you come take a break before you start on the next one? I’d say you’ve earned it.”
Reaching out to each other, they rose skyward, hand in hand. After gliding over the railing of Arivana’s skyship, they touched down gently beside her. Tassariel smirked as she dusted herself off, while Draevenus scanned the view below, taking an exaggerated breath in a gesture of deep contentment.
“Refreshments?” Arivana ventured, indicating the table beside her, which held mulled wine and a plate piled high with freshly baked pastries. “Or are you both too self-satisfied to indulge in such trivial affairs?”
“Hey!” Tassariel said, planting her fists on her hips. “Don’t blame us for taking satisfaction in a job well done. You were the one who asked us to come here.”
“Only because I was sick of listening to how bored you were patrolling the armistice zone back in that dreary, broken empire.”
“I never said I was bored.”
“You didn’t have to. Oh, don’t get all huffy on me, Tass. I could read between the lines of your messages easily enough. You’re not the kind to sit still. Why, not even a week after we flew free from the Cloister I could tell you were growing restless.” Arivana plucked a slice of melon from the plate and dropped it into her mouth. “I knew you were bound to grow weary of guarding a peace no one had the heart—or stomach—to break.”
“All right,” Tassariel said, lifting her hands in surrender. “I admit that after it seemed my old one had become temporarily obsolete, I’ve been on the search for a new Calling ever since. I’ve already learned so much, just in the short time we’ve been here. Enough to know that this . . . occupation . . . might have enough in it to keep me busy for a century or two.”
“Well, far be it from me to ridicule your newfound purpose in life.” Arivana picked up the decanter and poured its contents into two tall, thin glasses, then looked up as she started filling the third. “What about you, Draevenus? As much as Tass here has taken to her work with zest, you’ve seemed downright enraptured!”
The ebony-skinned man smiled at this, and for several beats his eyes glazed over, a sign of one delving into their memories, as Arivana had come to learn. When at last his trance ended, he resumed his inspection of the labors going on below, only this time his eyes glistened with something like gratitude.
“It feels good to be doing something constructive, I think,” he said. “Adding something to the world after a life spent subtracting.”
Tassariel swiped the two filled glasses and stepped over to him, pressing one into his hand. “Well, for the time being at least, no one needs the kind of help we used to provide.” She raised the one she’d retained. “To a future free of expectation.”
Draevenus raised his own. “To a future free of blood.”
Arivana quickly filled the third one and joined their toast, adding, “To a future free of . . . unnecessary boundaries.”
Three glasses touched together with a reverberating clink. Arivana and her guests all took a short sip. Then, dispatching smiles between them and disregarding all propriety for a midday repast, threw back their heads and gulped until only the most stubborn red drops remained.
Draevenus dipped his head towards her in appreciation. “A local vintage?”
Arivana nodded. “Our most popular brand.”
“A bit less sour than I’m accustomed to. And much more sweet.” He reached out towards Tassariel, who seemed to instinctively meet his hand halfway. “I think I can get used to this.”
“Me too,” the valynkar woman said.
“You’d better.” Arivana refilled all three glasses. “We recovered several thousand barrels of this stuff from cellars deep enough to avoid the destruction, but little else. If you choose to stay, you’ll be drinking nothing but this and water.”
Tassariel sighed loudly. “It will certainly be a burden. But somehow, I think we’ll manage.”
“Speaking of managing,” Draevenus said, flashing his eyes at Arivana before gesturing towards the sky, “it looks like your appointment has arrived.”
Arivana followed his gaze, then watched as the small skyship came to a landing on the wide deck of her own.
A skyship of ruvaki design.
Moments after it had settled down, a figure emerged from the lone entryway, dressed in strange finery somewhere between a woman’s nightgown and a man’s military uniform. But the face atop the attire was one as familiar as could be.
“Ambassador Grusot,” Ari
vana said, bowing. “It is good to see you again.”
Sem Aira returned the bow, fidgeting with her collar as she straightened. “Please, Your Majesty. Things need not be so formal between us.”
“Is that so? Well then, you’d better stop referring to me as ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘my queen’ from now on. Otherwise, the blame for formality will lie solely at your feet.”
Both she and the ruvaki woman regarded each other sternly. But after half a dozen beats, smiles overtook their artificially dour demeanors and they rushed towards each other, embracing like the fast friends they both had stopped denying that they were.
“You look so good,” Arivana said. “It’s amazing what proper fitting clothes and a touch of cosmetics will do. And is that perfume I smell?”
“No. I’ve just been eating a proper ruvaki diet for a while now. This is what I naturally smell like.”
“Really?”
In a decidedly human gesture, Sem Aira rolled her eyes. “Come now, Arivana. I’m not that good of a liar.”
“I’d hope not. It’s not the best trait to have if you’ve been tasked as the primary liaison between two recently warring peoples.”
“Speaking of which,” Sem Aira said, a sudden sense of nerves settling in her features, “I need to ask you a favor.”
“Name it.”
“It’s . . . about the armistice.”
Dark thoughts threaded through Arivana, stabbing like icicles. “Your masters haven’t changed their minds, have they?”
Sem Aira emphatically shook her head. “Nothing like that. I assure you, their stance has remained firmly changed. However, Jasside managed such a feat, it seems to have stuck.”
“Is it the resettlement zone? If Yandumar is giving you fits over the land he seceded—”
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