Verdaine swept her fingertips across his cheek and calm flowed through his veins.“I will not force you to do anything. You will know when it is time to leave the Narthvier.”
He instinctively shut his thoughts off from the goddess and her lips lifted in a smile. At least while he was able, he would have control of his life.“Will you come for me then, too?”
A sword appeared in her hand. Its long blade glowed white with ancient power that pulsed against his own ShantiMari. The dragon-scaled hilt fanned into a cross guard with intricately etched vines and designs unlike any he’d ever seen. A second, smaller guard flared to pointed ends. The blade—lithe, elegant, and lethal—stretched to a point. Words in a script he couldn’t read wound their way up its polished surface.
“This will tell you when it is time. Take it, Rhoane.”
“I cannot,”he said.“This is a blade worthy of a god. No mortal should carry such a work of art.”
Verdaine placed the sword in his hands. A smile further illuminated her beauty.“He was made by your Artagh brothers after they left the vier. My father commissioned he be made for me, to fight in the Great War, but I couldn’t bring myself to use it. When I refused, my father told me to keep him safe, that someday I would have need of him again. Not for myself, but for the one who would come from the terrarae.”
Rhoane gripped the hilt hard, trying his best not to let the immense power of the sword overwhelm him. A song played in his mind. A joyful tune of remembrance. The sword welcomed him. No, it remembered him. Eyes wide, he glanced to his goddess.
“Claidholm Solais was forged for my use,”she said,“but he was never truly mine. You are the only master this sword will know.”
“Kleeve Solish?” Rhoane wrapped his lips around the strange name.
“Claidholm Solais. His name is derived from the old tongue. Listen well to his words. He will guide you to find the Darennsai. She will be known by her own sword, Ynyd Eirathnacht.”
“The sword your father made for Daknys,”Carga offered.“No one has seen it since Rykoto was imprisoned. Many believe he destroyed the weapon during the fighting.”
Verdaine’s laughter was like the tinkling of small bells on a summer’s breeze.“Ynyd Eirathnacht is not missing. She is safely guarded. When the time has come, Nadra will present her to the Darennsai.”
“Nadra,”Carga said dreamily,“Mother Goddess and consort to our Great Father Ohlin. I would love to one day meet them.”
“And you shall, child.”Verdaine touched Carga’s cheek.“You shall.”She returned hergaze to Rhoane.“This sword and Ynyd Eirathnacht are made of godsteel. You cannot destroy them. Not by fire, nor ShantiMari. The only way these two swords can be damaged is if they are used against each other in battle. They were made for peace, but must be united as one.”
Rhoane held the sword close to his face and inspected the scrolling words.“What does it say?”
“That is for you to discover. I will only tell you this—if you and the Darennsai are not united as well, she will fail.”
“May I?” Carga held her hand out for the sword.
Rhoane cast a glance to Verdaine. At her nod, he gently placed the weapon upon Carga’s palm. The glow diminished until the metal was cool and grey.
“Claidholm Solais, protect my brother as he journeys forth. Be as a guide to him when he is lost, a friend to him when he is lonely, and always, a reminder to him what he means not just to the Eleri, but to all of Aelinae.”The sword flared anew; its brightness flooded his room with multihued streaks of light.“Claidholm Solais, Sword of Light.”She breathed the final words upon the blade, and the rainbow dimmed to dull grey once more. Carga placed his fingers firmly around the hilt. Their power mingled with Claidholm Solais’s. Light, Dark, and Eleri fused as one.
“Thank you,” he whispered, and she grinned cheekily at him.
“You will be needing this as well,”Verdaine said. A delicate silver chain with an unusual charm dangled from her fingertips.“This cynfar is for the Darennsai. A talisman, of sorts.”
Rhoane took the pendant from his goddess and placed it in a drawer without looking too closely at the design. He still wasn’t sure he would honor his oath and leave the Narthvier.
A fancy sword wasn’t enough to convince him a Fadair woman was worth the sacrifice.
Chapter 2
SIX moonturns passed before Rhoane thought about the pendant. He trained each day with his sword, learning the songs the sword sang, but was no closer to understanding their meaning. It was a fine Harvest morning shortly after his birthing day when he found the cynfar in his drawer, tucked into a corner amid the cruft of adolescent importance.
His fingertips brushed the silver, and a jolt of power thrummed straight to his heart. He snatched his fingers from the offending metal and blew on them as if burned. When no blisters formed, he used the tip of his dagger to draw the necklace from its hiding place. A large diamond glittered from the center of a laurel wreath, and several smaller gems dotted a circle above the wreath’s leaves. With his exhale, the leaves fluttered and he stared, mesmerized. The diamond winked in the light and in its depths he saw a sphere, blue and green with wisps of white. He blinked and the vision disappeared, leaving the gem as unremarkable as an acorn.
It is time, Rhoane.Verdaine’s voice whispered through the room on a gentle breeze.
“No,”Rhoane argued.“I cannot leave the vier. Mother needs me, and Bressal is nowhere near ready to rule. I must stay.”
Silence answered him.
He pushed the pendant to the back of the drawer and slammed it shut. He wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet. If ever.
He grabbed his sword and strode to the inner courtyard, where his mother sat with her ladies-in-waiting, including Janeira, a warrior who had caught the eye of his brother. When Rhoane approached, Aislinn rose to greet him, but he stormed past without saying so much as hello.
“Prince Rhoane.”Those two words froze his hurried pace.“What vexes you, my darling?”
“I cannot do it, Mother.”He refused to look at her, to see the disappointment yet again in her eyes.“You need me. The vier needs me. This is my home, my people. I am their prince, their future king. How can I rule if I am off chasing a myth?”He grasped at his tattered reality, knowing his words were false. He was never meant to rule, never meant to sit on the Weirren Throne. He knew it in the marrow of his being, yet he still rejected his fate.“I was a child when I made that oath. I do not want to disappoint you or Verdaine, but I cannot leave.”
“You can, and you must. We have discussed this.”
“Mother, you are not being fair. Why me? Why not Bressal or Eoghan?”
“You will do as told.”Pale blue veins rose on her forehead, a warning of her growing anger. His mother rarely lost her temper, and even then she was in control. Rhoane took a step backward, and his mother shook her head.“You will not run from me, boy. You were given this honor by our goddess. You not only disrespect her with your infantile whining, but you disrespect all Eleri.” White flames danced along her arms and trailed from her long, ebony hair.
He bent on one knee, head bowed.“I am sorry, Mother. Please, do not be upset. I will do as you ask.”
His false, placating words did nothing. Her rage grew until she was covered in flames. Aislinn’s power tugged at his own as she attempted to take what was not hers. Claidholm Solais sang a song of healing, but the queen was too far gone, her anger too rampant. Rhoane caressed the hilt of his weapon, unsure of how to stop his mother. This behavior was unlike the queen. A dangerous thought echoed through his mind. With a start, he realized the song was not meant for his mother, but for him.
“What is happening here?” King Stephan burst through a door, bellowing to those in the courtyard. When he saw his wife engulfed in the deadly flames, he threw a blanket of his own ShantiMari over her. The flames snapped against his power, dissolving his threads to ash.
Aislinn held out her hand to her husband.“This is for the best. It mu
st be done.”Her voice lowered to a hush.“Husband, mi carae, you have my heart, always.”She raised her head toward the sky and stole Claidholm Solais’s power to her.
“Mother, do not do this!”The sword jerked against Rhoane’s grip and he clenched his fist protectively around the hilt. He fought to stem the flood of light that infused his mother, but it was as if Claidholm Solais and the queen were determined in their efforts. As if they’d planned it almost…No. Rhoane wouldn’t let the thought settle in his mind. Couldn’t allow himself to believe such a terrible lie.
Aislinn screamed one ghastly, agonizing cry before she collapsed to the ground.
Stephan raced to her side and cradled her unmoving body against his. Tears streamed over his cheeks to drip onto his wife’s pale face. The ladies-in-waiting twittered to one another, unsure of what they’d witnessed. They, too, sobbed.
Rhoane stood alone in the courtyard, grief making a statue of him. He neither cried nor wailed nor spoke. If this was a dream, he wanted it to end. But the nightmare was only just beginning.
Verdaine materialized in a haze of crimson, green, and gold. She spoke a few words to the Eleri king before she cradled the queen in her arms.“I will take her to Dal Tara, where she will reside with the other gods.”Verdaine’s glare cut Rhoane’s heart.“Do not let her death be in vain.”
His goddess rose slowly, and Rhoane mouthed the words,“I am sorry.”To Verdaine or to his mother, he wasn’t sure. If only he’d obeyed and done what they asked, his mother would be alive.
The last he saw of the women was nothing more than a spark of light against the verdant leaves of the Weirren.
King Stephan’s chest heaved with his heavy breaths, and Rhoane braced himself for an outburst. Yet it did not come. What his father did say burned deeper than any accusation could.
“You are not to blame, my First Son. This horrific accident was not of your doing, nor of your mother’s.”His father paused. His brow made deep furrows in his usually smooth skin.“But you must leave the Narthvier this very day.”
“She begged me, Father, but I did not listen. She told me it was time, but I was not ready. Despite your words, I will carry the shame of Mother’s death until my own.”
His father eased Rhoane’s sword from his clasped fingers.“I am sorry,”he whispered as he wound his son’s hair around his fist.“Verdaine demands it.”
With one slice of the blade, Rhoane’s long, silky hair was shorn.
The ladies gasped. A few covered their facesand wept anew. Janeira advanced on her king.“My liege, it was not the prince’s fault. The queen, she raged, but your son did nothing to provoke the tragedy.”
“Stay out of this, youngling. You know nothing of which you speak. Rhoane is sheanna and will live among the Fadair until such a time as he is fit to return.”The entire time he spoke, Stephan’s steady gaze never left Rhoane’s.
“This is not how it is done,”Janeira argued.“To become sheanna, there must be a council. He must be presented before the court so all will know his shame, but there is no fault here.”
Stephan finally turned away from Rhoane, and a chill swept between them.“There is no shame present. No fault he must atone for. But Rhoane must be sheanna and leave the vier.”
“Why, Your Majesty? Why cast him out?”
“Because,”Stephan’s low voice cracked on the next words,“he isdi diendum de la Darathi Vorsi di nobliesse Prientar.”
He spoke in the language of the ancients, a dialect only a few Eleri understood, and even fewer could read or speak.
Janeira bent to one knee, her head bowed in supplication.“Forgive my impertinence, Your Highness.”
Tears stung the backs of his eyes, but Rhoane would not disgrace himself further. His father had placed an even greater burden upon him. One he was not certain he deserved or could bear.
His father had named him the Darathi Vorsi Prince.
Chapter 3
A FINE mist curled at the edge of the road that led from the Weirren to beyond the veils. Shadows cloaked the trees, obscuring Rhoane’s visibility. He strode with purpose, wanting nothing more than to leave the vier and his heartache behind. But he knew it wouldn’t be so easy. Knew the image of his mother engulfed in flames would stay with him for eternity.
He tapped the pocket that held the cynfar Verdaine had given him. He’d dishonored his goddess once; he would not fail her again. If the Darennsai lived among the Fadair, he would find her. Somehow, he would right the wrong of his mother’s death. He’d been a lad when he made the oath, but he was no longer an innocent. He broke a promise made to his goddess and his mother. To make amends, he must accept his fate, even if it meant living the rest of his life away from his home.
Claidholm Solais hummed in his mind, soothing notes of happier times. Memories of his childhood drifted through his thoughts. He patted the handle of his sword. A grim smile tightened his face. His pace increased, and he replayed the last conversations he’d had with Verdaine, his mother, and his sister. They believed in the prophecy. If he were to find the girl and right Aelinae’s wrongs, he would have to believe in it as well. All of it, not just what suited him. Which meant he needed to fully read the scrolls. He’d not seen them since he was a lad, still in short pants and with few cares.
A rustling of leaves brought his attention to the path before him. The road was deserted, save for a few randy hares scampering into the ferns to his left. His hand hovered above the hilt of his sword. His pace slowed, and he peered deeper into the forest.
A slight figure emerged from the trees, and Rhoane jerked his sword from its scabbard. The blade was at the intruder’s throat before either had a chance to speak.
“For Ohlin’s sake, Rhoane!”Eoghan sputtered, his eyes wide.“I thought you might like a mount, and this is how you repay me?”
Rhoane recoiled at the sound of his brother’s voice.“I thought you a brigand meant to rob me.”
“If you are to survive the Fadair, you must not be so quick to kill.”Eoghan indicated the horse he was leading.“She is the best I could smuggle out of Father’s stables. She isn’t fast or made for battle, but she will make your journey bearable until you can acquire a more fitting beast.”
His youngest brother, sixty seasons his junior, was sometimes far wiser than even the elders of the clan.“Thank you, Eoghan.”Rhoane gripped his brother’s arm and pulled him into a bear hug.“I will miss you.”
“And I you, First Son of the Eleri.”Eoghan broke off the embrace and indicated the stuffed saddlebags.“You have enough nourishment to last a fortnight, longer if you set traps.”
Rhoane had left the Weirren within half a bell of his father’s dismissal. He’d only had time to pack a few items, food not being one of them.“Again, I am indebted to you.”
“You can repay me by not getting killed.”
A second figure emerged from the forest, this time from the other side of the road. Rhoane shielded Eoghan and held his sword aloft.
“Will you murder your only sister?”Carga stepped lightly onto the dirt path and lowered Rhoane’s sword with her fingertips.“Eoghan is right. You are too quick with the sword, and not your mind.”She glanced nervously at the road leading to the Weirren.“We do not have much time. Eoghan and I will escort you to the final veil.”She withdrew a scroll from the folds of her gown and handed it to Rhoane.“I copied as many versions of the prophecy as I could. They keep us busy at the temple, but I knew you would need these. There is a complete translation in Talaith. The empress has an impressive library. You must present yourself to her as an Eleri noble anyway, you might as well make use of your time there.”
“I must go to Talaith?”Rhoane asked.“Why not Haversham? Or the Summerlands?”
“You will travel to all seven kingdoms, dear brother, but I feel certain you will find your Darennsai in Talaith.”
“Have you had a vision?”Eoghan’s eyes sparkled like a forest pond.
“Nay, but I cannot shake the feeling Talaith plays an im
portant role in all our lives.”
They reached the final veil and paused. None of them were eager for what was to come, but Rhoane knew it was up to him to lift the last veil. Carga and Eoghan had done their part, and now he must journey alone.
“Be safe, Rhoane.” Carga stretched to kiss his cheek, and he embraced his sister with a fierceness that surprised them both.
Eoghan wrapped his gangly arms around the two and held firm.“I will miss our adventures.”
“As will I.”Rhoane rested his chin atop his younger brother’s head.“I will miss everything about the vier and our lives. Nothing will ever be the same.”
“Perhaps that is for the best,”Carga murmured.“The Eleri are dying. Most only have one child; some none at all. Mother and Father were anomalies with four.”
Rhoane tightened his grip, not wanting to let go. Not just yet.
“The Darennsai is not the destroyer of our race. She is the harbinger of something new and enlightening. She will bring peace to Aelinae and usher in a new way of life for everyone.”
Eoghan blinked twice and shook his head.“I saw her.”
“Who? The Darennsai? Where is she?”Carga’s breathless words tumbled out.
“No, my life mate.”A tremble started in Eoghan’s legs and continued until his entire body shook.
“What did you see?”Rhoane steadied his brother, but the lad continued to quake.“Who is your life mate?”
“A vision. Perfection made in womanly form.”
Carga slapped her younger brother’s wrist and chuckled nervously.“You ass. Are you trying to frighten us with your contrived convulsing?”
Eoghan’s trembling continued despite his jovial tone.“Of course. I could not let Rhoane have all the fun, now could I?” He stepped away from his older brother and did not meet his eyes.
Rhoane chuckled at the supposed quip, but Eoghan wasn’t one for dramatics. He believed his brother did have a vision and was frightened by its intensity. The desire to stay longer with his two closest confidants was powerful, but lingering would only delay the inevitable.“If there are no more revelations to be made, perhaps I should be on my way?”
The Darathi Vorsi Prince (Song of the Swords Book 0) Page 2