For a moment, Creel looked as though he’d resist the order, clearly calculating the odds in his head, but then he relaxed and raised his hands nonthreateningly.
“Mayor Calcote, what are you doing? I resent this treatment!” Sianna snapped.
“Such is the new reality, Princess,” Calcote said. “Subdue this man!”
Half a dozen men surrounded Creel, throwing him roughly to the ground and kicking and punching him repeatedly. Before he was taken down, he had a look of weary resignation that stabbed at Sianna’s heart when their eyes met.
“Stop this at once!” Sianna shrieked.
Calcote ignored her. “Take him to the dungeon. Let’s go, Princess. You too.”
“Sir, what is the meaning of this?” Cece demanded of the mayor, rolling pin in hand, looking as though she was about to start laying about herself with the stout wooden utensil.
“No, Cece,” Sianna told her, not wishing to see the kindly woman beaten down also, for these were men who undoubtedly wouldn’t hesitate to do so.
Calcote looked at Cece coldly. “You’d best forget you saw any of this and get your fat arse back to the kitchen, you cow.”
Then Sianna was being dragged away by two hulking brutes, the mayor trailing them. Ahead, two other men were dragging an unconscious Creel by the arms.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, fighting back tears, for all their plans had been dashed to pieces.
“New arrangements were made in the absence of the Atreus family to provide security and stability for Llantry. I’m sure you can understand that is the proper decision, for the sake of all the thousands of citizens in the city.”
“Like you give a shite about the common folk,” she snapped.
“Such a sharp tongue, Princess! You wound me greatly with your accusations.” He clutched at his chest like a mummer in a stage performance. A moment later, his face turned cold. “I must, however, thank the gods that fortune has just fallen in my lap like this. I think the warlord will be quite pleased. She seemed a bit angered over your stubborn refusal to die and elusiveness in evading capture. But now, I think she may allow me to keep the regency permanently once her war is ended.”
“You’re a damn traitor, no better than a two-bit thief who would sell out your own mother.”
Calcote cuffed her roughly on the back of the head. “Watch your tongue. No conditions were ever set that you must remain in good health, Princess. Merely alive.”
His threat cowed her for the time although a hot spark of hatred remained as she was dragged down to the dungeons, trailing after a comatose Creel.
I’m so sorry, Master Creel! I’m such a naive fool. I should’ve listened to you.
Chapter 31
Taren walked briskly with his two friends toward the portal to Nexus, located just off a busy market square near the wharf. He barely paid any notice to the sights and sounds around him, a morning bustle that normally would have captured his attention, for Llantry was by far the largest city he’d ever seen. Mira and Ferret seemed interested in their surroundings. Instead, Taren was thinking of Sianna as he’d seen her the night prior and again this morning when she had seen them off. The past night, he feared he had overstepped some boundary by giving her the locator stone. When he glimpsed it on a leather thong around her neck this morning, nestled just inside the neck of her tunic, he was filled with relief and satisfaction.
So I didn’t make a total fool of myself.
He wished he could have given her a much finer gift, yet poor as it might have been, she had the graciousness to accept it. Not only that, but she wore it around her neck, close to her heart. At their parting of ways, she had looked so beautiful—strong and regal. If he’d ever had any doubt in his mind she was the rightful queen, that vision had banished it. As his thoughts followed that path, a memory of his glimpse of her through the door came unbidden, Sianna wearing a filmy nightgown, hair combed out and shining in the lamplight…
“Ahem.”
Taren was jostled from his thoughts and looked to his left to find Ferret regarding him, with amusement it seemed, though he could see only her glowing eyes beneath the cowl of her cloak and cloth wrappings.
“A lot on your mind today, Taren?” Mira asked to his other side. From her, he definitely sensed amusement.
The two were both looking at him expectantly, and he realized they must have been awaiting a response to an earlier question.
“Um, yes… just thinking about the journey ahead.”
“Nothing more than that?” Ferret prodded.
He shrugged. “That’s enough to think on, isn’t it?”
“Not even a certain young queen who you might’ve taken a fancy to?” Ferret teased.
Taren felt his cheeks going hot and looked away, but they had him surrounded. Ferret’s unblinking purple orbs regarded him from one side, Mira’s honey-colored eyes merciless on his other side. The monk at least had the grace to not press the issue.
“There’s good sense in establishing a beneficial relationship with our rightful queen,” he said, thinking it a good recovery.
“Is that what you smart mage types call flirting?”
She’s relentless. He turned to Ferret, irritated. “Why, are you jealous or something?” The moment the words were out, he regretted them. Of course she’s likely jealous at not having the chance for a normal life any longer.
“I was only jesting with you, Taren,” she said, voice hollow again and without whatever merriment he’d sensed there earlier.
“I’m sorry, Ferret. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. We’ll find a remedy somehow.”
“You don’t have to keep feeding me false hope. I know very well my chances are little better than shite for a cure.”
Taren wasn’t sure what to say to that.
Then Ferret added, “I don’t want you to get hurt with your feelings for her. You’re almost like a brother to me.”
He felt both ashamed at his earlier reaction and warm inside at Ferret’s confession. Knowing her, voicing such a thought had taken a great deal of nerve.
“Thanks, Ferret,” he said. “I feel the same. In fact, both of you are better friends than I deserve, and I thank you for your faith and trust in me. And for keeping me out of trouble.” He smiled at each in turn.
Ferret nodded, emanating contentment, while Mira gave him her shy smile.
They walked in silence a couple minutes until reaching the square with the portal. A long line snaked away from the portal itself, a massive stone archway.
“So now I guess we wait,” Taren said.
“Are you nervous about meeting her?” Mira asked. “That’s what I wondered earlier when you were deep in thought.”
He thought on that a moment. “I suppose I am when I think about it. But she’s never seemed… real. That might sound strange, but all I know of her are these adventurous tales from my uncle and what little is written in my book about the Battle of Nexus, which portrays her as a powerful, stern, and possibly vengeful being—a demigod. I have no idea what she’s truly like as a person. The journey has been so long it’s felt as if I’d never arrive in Nexus. And now, with only a hundred or so paces to go…” He shrugged. “I imagine all shall be revealed shortly.”
***
“Shortly” turned out to be much longer than anticipated. Some type of argument held up the line, eventually ending with a protesting merchant being hauled off by the city guard and his cart full of wares confiscated. Smuggling, Taren guessed.
After that dispute was resolved, the line moved steadily. Taren paid a few silvers for the three of them out of a coin purse contributed by Creel earlier, and they stepped through the portal. A moment of disorientation ensued, his stomach flip-flopping queasily, then it was over, and they were standing in a place right out of legends.
Once named the Twilight City, the Nexus of the Planes had a purplish sky, either dawn or dusk breaking over the disc-shaped city that was its own plane. A sun was low in the sky off to Taren
’s right, opposite the crescent of a red moon to his left. He found himself standing on what could have been a beach, although the thick sand beneath his feet was a dull gray.
The Ashen Plains, he thought, recognizing where they were standing from his book. And the sand wasn’t sand but a thick layer of ash generated over the centuries by the city’s foundry. A line of their fellow travelers wended their way down toward the distant gates of the city, where a high wall separated the Ashen Plains from the city proper. Arrayed on the Ashen Plains along the curving edge of the disc were scores of portals, some permanent but many only open temporarily.
A large hill rose at the center of Nexus, upon which its rebuilt foundry sent pillars of smoke into the sky from its six great chimneys. At the far opposite edge of the city, an ancient fortress rose into the sky, its highest tower on a level with the top of the foundry’s chimneys.
Taren started forward, not wishing to get run down by the travelers and merchants coming through the portal behind them. Mira and Ferret were looking around in wonder just as he had been. Seeing him step forward, they fell in beside him once more and began the trek toward the city gates.
After Mira had mentioned Taren’s mother, his thoughts focused on her during their wait in line. He supposed the best course of action would be to present himself at the fortress and simply introduce himself as her son. Another option would have been to seek out his Uncle Arron and have him present them, although he had no idea how to find Arron either.
In the end, he needn’t have worried, for the decision was taken out of his hands.
A couple paces ahead of Taren, the air abruptly shimmered as though seen through the ripple of heat above a fire, and an unusual woman stepped out of thin air before him. She was of average height and lean of build, dressed in worn black leathers like a rogue might wear. She had lavender-colored hair and bone-white horns decorated with jewelry curving down to the sides of her head. Her eyes burned with the same rust-colored hue as Taren’s own.
Taren gasped, freezing in place, as did his companions, all staring at the exotic woman. He knew instinctively, deep inside, whom he faced.
“Mo—” He was cut off by the woman swiftly stepping forward and silencing him with a finger to his lips.
A playful smile teased her lips, and she regarded each of them frankly. “So the time has come. Let us retire somewhere so we may speak freely.”
She made no other gesture or spoken word, but their surroundings blurred around them, then they were standing inside a room. Ferret muttered a quiet oath of surprise. Purplish rays of sunlight streamed in through an open window, and the surrounding walls were of thick stone blocks. A large tapestry of a battle scene covered one of the walls. A round mahogany table dominated the center of the chamber, surrounded by padded wooden chairs that looked surprisingly informal, like the type one might find in a tavern rather than a castle hall.
“Greetings, my son.” The woman gripped Taren by the shoulders, studying him a moment, then smiled and embraced him. “You look much like your father.”
“Save for the eyes. I’ve been told I inherited your eyes.” He returned her embrace politely, not out of any real affection as he could scarcely believe this stranger was his mother. She radiated an unnatural heat.
“Aye, so you did.” She smiled at him before stepping away and looking at his companions expectantly. “Will you introduce me?”
“These are my friends, Mira and Ferret.”
“Welcome to my home, the fortress of Nexus. Call me Nera.”
Mira bowed low. “It is a great honor to finally meet you, Lady of Twilight.”
“Ah, none of that. We’re all friends here, Miralei.” Nera reached out and gently lifted Mira’s necklace, looking at it with a faraway look in her eyes, lips curved in a gentle smile.
“I’ve dreamed all my life of this great honor of meeting you. I am told that charm necklace was with me when you pulled me as a babe from the wreckage of Lakeshore.” Mira regarded Nera with something approaching awe.
“Aye, just so. How peculiar this Weave of yours can be… yet also fitting that you should be my son’s companion. Did Master Dagun send you?”
“He did, although doing so was one of his final acts. He has ascended now to a higher state of enlightenment.”
Nera nodded slowly. “A good man. He shall be missed.” She squeezed Mira’s shoulder warmly then turned to Ferret, eyes narrowing slightly as though finding a riddle that perplexed her.
Ferret remained silent, holding Nera’s gaze a moment, her amethyst eyes bright beneath her cloak and wraps of cloth. “My lady,” she finally said, with a bow.
“I had hoped you could somehow aid her,” Taren said to fill the silence. “There was an… accident, you might say, and she was transformed thusly.”
“Let me look upon you, child. You need not hide your features here or anywhere in my city.”
Ferret lowered her hood and unwrapped the cloth from her face and neck. Nera took Ferret’s hand, looking her over with wonder. Taren had no doubt she was examining the girl with more than her physical eyes.
“Marvelous,” Nera whispered, eyes unfocused. She blinked and then looked solemn. “Though I reckon you feel differently.”
“Can you aid me, Lady?” Ferret asked in a whisper, as though fearing the answer.
“I promise to do what I can, though it may require some research. I must think on it.” She patted Ferret’s hand sympathetically then turned. “And here’s my brother, Taren’s uncle, Arron.”
As if summoned into being by her words, the door opened, and a familiar figure entered the room. He had a blend of human and elven features, with slightly pointed ears, blond hair, green eyes filled with humor, and a roguish grin.
“Uncle Arron!” Taren couldn’t help but smile, for he hadn’t seen his uncle for over a year.
Arron embraced Taren, slapping him hard on the back. “Good to see you again, lad. You’re all grown up now!” He smiled and waved rakishly to Mira and Ferret but then frowned. “I’d hoped to see Wyat accompanying you. And perhaps Elyas.”
Taren sighed. “That’s partly the reason I’m here. War has consumed Easilon, and I’m sad to say Uncle Wyat fell, buying Elyas and me time to escape a Nebaran war party.” All the strain and pressure over the past weeks suddenly seemed to hit him at once, and with difficulty he fought down a knot of emotion. “I think you both need to hear the entire tale.”
Nera and Arron both looked crushed by the news of Wyat. “Aye, we’d best hear it all laid out, then. No other way about it.” Nera gestured for them to sit.
Arron brought over a jug of wine and some cups. “Have you eaten?”
Taren nodded and thanked Arron when he offered him the wine.
“Anything we can get you, lass?” Arron asked Ferret.
“Not unless you have a cure for this.” She motioned to encompass her body before sitting back in her chair, arms folded over her chest.
Arron raised an eyebrow and looked at Nera, who seemed absorbed elsewhere. “Right, then why don’t you tell us what has occurred, Taren?”
Taren took a sip of wine to wet his throat then launched into the story.
***
Some time later, the tale was finished, and Taren felt drained by its telling. He sipped at his third cup of wine and stared morosely at the table. Night had fallen outside the castle hours earlier. Nera and Arron had been mostly quiet throughout his tale, asking occasional questions. Mira and Ferret added details at a few points but were content to let him do most of the speaking.
“Ah, dearest Wyat. He died as he lived, protecting those he loved best.” Nera sighed.
Arron seemed even more distraught than Nera, simply nodding glumly, eyes misty and lost in thought. He had drained half a dozen cups of wine that Taren had noticed, but he seemed unaffected other than his melancholy mood.
The obvious affection the two of them bore for Wyat made Taren feel drawn to them though he didn’t know Arron all that well and his mo
ther not at all.
Nera’s sadness turned to anger after a few moments. “And that damned half sister of mine—once more stirring up shite and causing harm to those I care about. On behalf of her master, Shaol, I have no doubt.”
“Your half sister? So Sirath was right, then.” Taren rubbed his eyes tiredly.
“Aye. Sadly, ’tis so. Surely, that bitch is out for vengeance after our prior introduction in the Abyss. There wasn’t exactly any love lost during that little scrap. Both of us ended up left for dead… I’m surprised she yet draws breath. I nicked her good with Bedlam Judge.” Nera’s eyes, faraway in memory, abruptly sharpened as she regarded Taren and then the other two. “’Ware that bone dagger when you face her—a wound from that is incurable and shall result in death in but moments.”
Nera abruptly stood. “I’m a poor host, remiss in my manners—my apologies. Brother, will you show these ladies to their rooms that they might rest and have some time to themselves? Taren, I’d speak with you in private for a time.”
Mira looked at Taren questioningly, and he nodded. She and Ferret followed Arron from the room, leaving him alone with his mother.
“Who are you, really, Mother? I mean I’ve heard all kinds of things, read an account of the Battle of Nexus, but none of it really explains who you are… and who that makes me. Wyat explained once that you are a demigod, that Sabyl is my grandmother, but it’s hard to believe all that…”
Nera’s features blurred, and her plane-cursed form, as those with lower-planar blood were often known, was gone. In its place stood a tall, beautiful woman, her features mostly human, with ebon hair and pale skin, and wearing flowing ivory robes. Her eyes were the same rust color, simmering with an inner fire. However, her presence was suddenly palpable, like a great pressure on his senses, and the room seemed too small to contain her. Nera was clearly much more than human. Whatever doubts Taren might have once had about Wyat’s stories of her swiftly faded. The woman before him seemed truly capable of all the great deeds ascribed to her, and then some.
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