“Precisely.” Din’Dael’s face split into his manic grin. “Noctis’s thoughts mirror my own. We simply do not have enough information.” Will sensed that he had just given din’Dael the opening he needed. “For too long we’ve been secreted away within these walls, relying on the reports of outsiders on our payroll. We need to gather our own intelligence.”
Quennar looked faint. Rienne let out a soft sigh and closed her eyes, shaking her head. Kenwal’s mouth was set in a hard line and he was glaring at their commander.
“Quennar already explained it, Jero,” the senior Blade said. “We don’t have the forces.”
“Nor will we ever now that Dorian has returned.” Din’Dael slammed his hands down on the table as he spoke. “The moment will never be right. We will never have the advantage. We must outthink him. Outmaneuver him. To do that, we need to be outside in the world beyond the Sapholux.”
Will watched din’Dael’s words sink into those in the room. He, of course, knew that din’Dael was ready for the Lightborne to prove the strength of the Sapholux, to enter into a world absent Shadowborne, without the influence of the Umbriferum. And now the Blades around him knew it too, and they were recoiling from it. This is what he meant when he said they needed a catalyst for change.
“Jero,” Rienne said quietly. “Your people do not want war.”
The room descended into an uncomfortable silence as the Revenant eyed Rienne. She did not waver under his fiery scrutiny.
“Our people do not have a choice.” Din’Dael was calm. The contrast to the manic, table-slamming man from moments before made his words all the more chilling. “Dorian Valmont has returned, Rienne. You were not here the last time. Nor you, Quennar.” His gaze roved until it fell on Kenwal. “But you were, old friend. You remember a world with his presence.”
“I remember your rivalry,” Kenwal began. “I remember how it destroyed our Guardian.”
For a moment, Will thought din’Dael was going to strike the Blade. He did not, however, and only the briefest twitch at the corner of his eyes bore witness to the internal struggle.
“Shigei O’Saq,” din’Dael spoke in slow, measured tones, “was not a casualty of my personal relationship with Valmont. Do not suggest such again.”
Will saw an opening. “I’ll go.” All eyes in the room quickly turned to him. “I’ll find out what’s going on.”
“No,” din’Dael said with a shake of his head. “I have a different mission for you, young Noctis.” He paused and drew back from the table, returning to his full height. “Come, let us adjourn. Tensions are high and we have much to think on. I thank you, all, for your counsel.”
The others did not argue. While the small council vacated, Will lingered. Rienne frowned and raised an eyebrow at him. Will smirked and jerked his head toward din’Dael. She gave a small nod, but then her eyes hardened as they fell to the fangs around Will’s waist. With a look of disgust, she turned and followed Quennar and Kenwal from the room.
“That one is trouble, Noctis. Step lightly.”
Will turned back to din’Dael. The tall man’s eyes were fixed squarely on him. Inexplicably, Will felt very small.
“Just a friend, Jero.” His thoughts briefly drifted to Morella and hints of the previous night played across his mind. “Nothing more.”
“She is right, you know. These people, our people, they do not want war.” Din’Dael sighed and shook his head, resting his hands on the table once more and looking at the large map. “No one ever does. And yet war always comes.”
“Then you have to protect them,” Will said, stepping closer. “However you can.”
“Countless days, Noctis. That is how long the Sapholux has stood. Some say that these walls predate even Velier and the Breaking. No one living knows. Shigei O’Saq did not even know.” He sighed and turned to Will. “And somehow, Dorian is a threat to them. None of us know how. None of us even know why.” His eyes grew momentarily distant. “There is something wrong, Noctis. Something tainted within these walls. You can see it. The fear, like a sickness, creeping through our brethren. It should not be so. Not even against Dorian.”
“Jero,” Will said, choosing his words carefully, “you have a Relic of Antiquity. There is another one housed within these walls. Why don’t you use them to fight?”
Din’Dael glanced at his hand and Will saw the pale green glow dimly show itself. The key at his chest, so familiar as to have been already forgotten, sputtered and popped, surging to life. Will rolled his shoulders involuntarily and blinked. That’s new.
“No one can be bound to multiple Relics, Noctis. And one was not enough, when last Dorian and I met upon the battlefield.”
“How is that even possible? Does Valmont have one as well?”
“I do not believe so.” Din’Dael shook his head. He pulled out a chair and sat, placing his head in his hands. “I do not know what Dorian has done to himself, but he did not die.”
A cool shiver crept up Will’s spine. “You had the chance to kill him?”
“I did kill him,” din’Dael said softly. “It did not stop him.” He looked up and met Will’s shocked gaze. “Do you understand, young Burner? I watched him die. I bled the life right out of him and saw the light of life leave his eyes. And yet he still fights.”
Will said nothing.
“He was not always a monster, Noctis. He was brilliant. He was the greatest mind these lands had seen in longer than anyone could say. Long before the Wars of Dawning, even I admired him. Lightborne, Shadowborne, history shows that peace can exist between us.” He gave a humorless smile. “For a time, at least.”
“What happened?”
The smile disappeared. “Too much.” He shook his head and stood. “A conversation for another day, young Noctis. In the meantime, you and I have something to discuss.” He crossed the room to where a small table held glasses and bottles. Grabbing two glasses and a bottle, he beckoned Will over. He filled a glass and handed it over to him. “You’re leaving.”
How did he know? Then he saw that din’Dael was not insinuating anything, did not know of Will’s own plans for departure. Din’Dael had something else planned.
“Well, you did say you had a separate mission planned for me.”
“That I did.” Din’Dael tipped his own glass back and drained it quickly, then refilled it. “Quennar and Kenwal believe that Dorian marches on the Sapholux. I do not share that belief, but their fears certainly illustrate a point that needs reconciling. The Lightborne are alone in the world.”
Will sipped his glass and nodded. “Right, like you and I talked about before.”
“Quite right. Regardless of Dorian’s plans, it is apparent to me that the Sapholux needs allies. And in a world threatened once again by the Necrothanians”—he chuckled lightly—“an army of Lightborne suddenly seems rather useful, I would imagine.”
Where is he going with this? “Yeah, the . . . effectiveness of the Borne is certainly not something to underestimate,” Will said carefully.
Din’Dael nodded. “There is only one ally of any worth to us, only one citadel large enough to house the Lightborne and strong enough to withstand an assault from Dorian’s minions.” He snorted at the last word and shook his head before taking another drink.
Will’s breath caught. “You mean the Nordoth.”
Din’Dael smiled. “I do.”
Mad . . . Whatever had happened to his brother and Cephora, surely they would have regrouped within Undermyre. At the very least, the Crow would have wanted a report on everything that happened. But their venture with Cephora, the terrible day at the Shale, that had been so long ago. Would Mad still be there?
“When do I leave?”
Din’Dael raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? No questions from such a usually inquisitive mind? No request for more information as to how this is part of the greater scheme?” Will opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words. Din’Dael leaned forward in his seat. “No. You have questions, but they
are not for me. You leave at once.” He glanced at the blood fangs and cutlass then gave a mirthless smile. “As it seems you had already planned.”
Taken aback, Will suddenly was filled with questions. If the Lightborne needed him, needed the Nordoth, he would do what he could. But there was so much more. “You hate the Crow. Why reach out to him now?”
Din’Dael smiled. “As I said, Noctis, we need allies.”
Will considered for a moment. “What do you want me to say? I don’t expect that the Crow will exactly welcome the idea of an army of Borne sitting within his walls.”
“You’re clever, Noctis. You’ll find a way. Of that I have no doubt.”
“Fine.” He thought for a moment. “I don’t know these lands well, Jero, not at all, really. How far is it to the Nordoth from here?”
Din’Dael laughed and sipped at his drink. “Less than half the continent, give or take.”
Will groaned. He had no idea how large the continents might be in this world, but if they were even a fraction of the size of those back in Cascania, he was in for a long journey. “And I’m guessing you expect me to make this journey alone?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Din’Dael shook his head and gestured to the rafters. “You’ll have a guide, of course.”
Will raised his eyes. And there she was: Dahla. The great bird was perched high above and was staring at him, her head cocked to the side, her golden eyes boring into him.
Fantastic. “I’m sure we’ll have delightful conversations,” he muttered. The thought of so long a journey with only the bird was not a pleasant one. Still, there was something about her that was comforting, familiar. She’d been with him on his last journey through the desert and, other than din’Dael, the only friend he’d had within these walls for quite some time at the start.
“She will take you as far as needed. She will have to break off after and guide Rienne for the rest of her journey.”
“Wait, break off?” Will said in surprise. “With Rienne? What do you mean?”
“Now come the questions.” Din’Dael sighed and shook his head. “The world does not pause and wait for your comings and goings, Noctis. The amassing Necrothanians must still be dealt with. Rienne will be seeking out other potential allies. For that, she’ll need Dahla far more than you shall.”
Will cocked an eyebrow at the man. “And they might be . . .?”
“Your other old friends. The Seekers. They are, most likely, far better equipped to handle the Necrothanians.”
Will tried not to let his surprise show. Cephora had called herself Prime of the Seekers, so of course that had to have meant there were more like her. More people who could control the ground? No, she’d called herself the last Earth Warder, whatever that meant. So, the Seekers, then, they were something else. Bounty hunters or mercenaries, perhaps? “Better equipped than Lightborne . . .”
Din’Dael smiled. “They have their methods.”
Will was suddenly aware that he still did not know what exactly the Seekers’ methods were. What he’d seen of Cephora’s powers had been those of an Earth Warder. What were the Seekers capable of? How the hell do I still know so little about this damn world?
“So, Rienne then. She goes to treat with the Seekers and I go to the Nordoth. Alliances, right? Pincer move to sweep up the Necrothanians in the middle and cut the legs from underneath Valmont’s army? Sounds like quite the tidy plan, Jero.”
The tall Lightborne smiled at him. “Tidy, indeed.”
“And our paths coincide, for a time? Rienne’s and mine?”
“They do.”
Din’Dael was offering less and less information. Will knew the signs; he would get no more out of him than that. “Alright, then. Tomorrow?” He raised a questioning eyebrow to his mentor. Din’Dael said nothing. Helpful, as ever. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”
“One final thing, Noctis. The Lightborne will march for the Nordoth in a few weeks’ time.” Din’Dael leveled his gaze at him, setting his empty glass back on the table. “We will not be long behind you. Our people will have been promised accommodations. Do not let them down.”
In other words, failure isn’t an option. Not knowing what to say, Will gave a brief nod and dismissed himself. A few weeks to establish a relationship with the Crow and win over the Nordoth. A few weeks to explain that the Lightborne were alive and marching en masse, armed with weapons of aerilite, to the very gates of Undermyre. A few weeks to meet whatever demands the old man and his council would set.
Oh yes, what could possibly go wrong?
8
Travels with Rienne
A strange uneasiness hung in the air when Will awoke the following morning. He had spent so much time within the walls of the Sapholux that the worlds beyond seemed unfamiliar now, no more than an echo of a dream. And yet, the realm of Aeril still seemed more familiar than the one he had called home for so long. Is it even right to still call it home? His whole time in Cascania, the world he had known, had been his grandfather’s world, the home that he and Mad and Will had made together. That world was gone. Home was gone.
The thought left him disheartened. His mood soured more when he met with Rienne; she didn’t even look at him. As they prepared their few belongings, she kept her gaze averted and said nothing. What the heck did I do wrong?
He paused and watched her check her supplies, the fastening on her cloak, and then repeat the process. She’s nervous, idiot. Stop thinking everything is about you.
Nerves made sense. Rienne had never before left the protective walls of the Sapholux and, now that he knew what to look for, Will saw the trepidation plain on her face. Why had din’Dael chosen her, of everyone? Why did he think she would be the best representative to the Seekers if she knew so little of the world? The inner workings of a madman’s mind. I’ll never figure him out.
Will wondered how much time the two of them would spend together on the road. Din’Dael had made it clear that they would be parting ways eventually, but Will hoped they would at least be together long enough for Rienne to find some level of comfort beyond the Sapholux. It was a bitter hope, but a hope nonetheless. She was venturing into a world that had once sought, and very nearly achieved, the destruction of her kind. Our kind. Stop trying to separate yourself.
Will put the light armor of a Blade into his pack and donned his new cloak and fresh travel leathers. They were unblemished, not stained with scars and memories like those he was wearing when he first arrived. Not yet. He hung the aerilite cutlass from a baldric and settled it beneath the cloak. He fastened his fangs about his waist and touched the key around his neck. No matter what, I’m never going to take this off again. A reminder of the real me.
As Will made his way to the gates, the blood fangs brought looks of discomfort and disapproval from the Lightborne. The knives seemed to add to the mystique that had grown around his rapid elevation within the Borne. He heard the whispers in the corridors as he passed, saw the looks of mistrust on the faces of those around. It was jarring. Here I thought that damn ceremony had moved us past that. Nothing new, I guess.
Will retreated further into his own mind as they walked. No matter how much he had trained and developed his Flare, he’d always been separate from the other Lightborne. But was that really so strange? He’d been Shadowborne, once. Perhaps their distance was due to an echo of that former power. He snickered to himself. After all this, I’m still daydreaming about damn Shades.
He expected grandiose fanfare from Jero at their departure, given what he had come to know of the man, but when Will and Rienne approached the killing gates, din’Dael stood alone. Perhaps it’s another of his strategies, sneaking us out and heralding us as righteous warriors seeking the betterment of the Lightborne. That would be right up his alley. He would compare them to Velier’s band, setting off into parts unknown to save the world as they knew it. All so he can turn it on its head. Eyeing din’Dael, Will felt a familiar mix of fascination and repulsion for the warrior.
Din
’Dael smiled casually, his mind seemingly elsewhere. He passed Rienne a sealed scroll that she placed within a leather case, and whispered advice Will couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it did nothing to alleviate Rienne’s nervous expression. He then glanced at Will, glanced at the blood fangs, and laughed. That was all.
“Dahla will find you,” Jero said between chuckles. He made a shooing motion at the pair. “Go. Be on your way.”
“Do you know when?” Will asked. Jero simply stared at him. “I mean, at least tell us which way we ought to head.” Jero raised an eyebrow. Sure, fine, whatever. We’ll go wander then. Will sighed. “You could point,” he said flatly.
Din’Dael snickered and clapped him on the back. “Just venture southwest, my young Burner. I believe that’s correct. Southwest or southeast. I can never recall. Put the Sapholux at your back and set out. That’s the key.”
“Helpful,” Will muttered. He turned to Rienne, but she was already striding though the gates. Din’Dael gave Will another shooing motion, turned on his heel, and then off the Revenant went.
Will readjusted his pack and started out after Rienne. Well, here we go.
The sun was just cresting over the distant mountains and casting its glow against the Sapholux when he exited the killing gates. The scarred sky became a mix of greens and purples against the orange, an oddity Will had come to accept as normal. Back in Cascania, he’d seen pictures of the Northern Lights, and each rise of the Aerillian sun reminded him of them. The jagged scar itself was a sharp contrast to the vibrant colors, its milk-white glow pulsing faintly. There was something otherworldly about it, something unnatural. Will shivered and shook his head. Just one more damn casualty from din’Dael.
Borne Rising Page 9