by Jordan Rivet
Now the words “princess” and “Vertigon” were added to the mutterings, along with “dragon.” They didn’t come any closer thanks to Mav, though the dragon was on his best behavior. He hadn’t spewed Fire once.
“Is Commander Brach still in command here?” Selivia called when the Soolens didn’t respond to her greeting. “I understand he’s a noble man who will honor my request for a peaceful audience. If he’s not here, we’ll be on our way.”
One of the soldiers spoke at last. “Well met, Princess Selivia.” He was handsome for an older man, with a clean-shaven face and a stocky build. “We wondered what happened to you after you disappeared from the Far Plains Stronghold. Commander Brach was most concerned for your safety.”
“I doubt that. He’s been a little busy sacking cities, hasn’t he?” She winced as soon as the words escaped her lips. She really shouldn’t go off script.
“Nevertheless, it was never his intention to harm you,” the lead soldier said. “There was no need to flee into the wilderness.”
“There was no need to attack the Far Plainsfolk either,” Selivia said.
“You may be correct, Princess.” A shadow crossed the soldier’s lined face, and he inclined his head. “We hope you will accept our hospitality in any case.”
“That depends,” Selivia said. “Can I speak to Commander Brach or not?”
“I can see you won’t be dissuaded. Very well. We shall escort you to him.” He made a quick hand signal to one of his men, who darted back down the hill, no doubt carrying a message to the commander. “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask your dragon companion to remain here.”
Selivia hesitated. She would rather negotiate right here on the Rock, but it probably wasn’t realistic to expect Brach to come within spitting distance of a strange dragon.
“My dragon is temperamental,” she said. “You should give him lots of space. And keep your own dragons as far from him as possible.”
If the soldier was surprised that she knew about the Soolen dragons, he didn’t show it.
“We will extend him every courtesy as a member of your diplomatic party.”
“Thank you.” Selivia couldn’t tell if the soldier was mocking her or not. His voice was smooth and steady, but she couldn’t help feeling that he wasn’t taking her seriously. He probably thought she’d gotten hungry and scared out in the desert and was looking for a way out.
She patted Mav on the nose and whispered words of reassurance before scrambling down the Rock to join the Soolen soldiers. The Watermight Wielder, who hadn’t said a word so far, was studying the true dragon intently. The leader ordered him to stay behind with half a dozen soldiers. Selivia was nervous about leaving Mav alone, but he was probably a match for any Waterworker.
The stocky soldier bowed and offered his arm to escort her down the Rock. He had a pleasant manner, and she felt an instinctive desire to trust him. She tried not to give in to that desire. This was the first time she’d interacted with another human being in over a week, and she might just be starved for company of the non-scaly, non-fire-breathing variety.
The Sunset City was almost unrecognizable as the idyllic settlement where she’d spent months as an exile. Many of the painted standing stones had been blown apart, leaving nothing but piles of colorful rocks at the intersections. Scorch marks indicated the damage Mav had inflicted during their escape. There was no sign of the feathered dragons, but soldiers patrolled the streets in pairs, and the usual cheerful bustle was absent.
A few Far Plainsfolk poked their heads out from behind vibrant curtains, those who hadn’t made it to the safety of the tunnels before the Soolens took control. Selivia kept watch for familiar faces—especially her friend Zala and her longtime bodyguard, Fenn. She wouldn’t even mind knowing that Ivran had survived. But the Plainsfolk disappeared from view before she could get a good look at any of their faces. Once, she thought she saw the bright-yellow flash of a purlendog’s tails, but it was gone the second she looked closer. She wondered what had happened to Lightning Bug, the puppy she had cared for during her brief stay.
“We secured this section of the city for our troops,” her escort said as they passed a pile of purple rubble that had once been a standing stone. “All the Far Plainsfolk who surrendered are treated well, providing they stay in their assigned quarters.”
“Why did you come here?” Selivia asked. “The Far Plainsfolk weren’t hurting anybody.”
“We needed to regroup,” the soldier said. “We suffered an unprecedented attack from an army of Vertigonian Fireworkers. We lost hundreds of good men before Commander Brach gave the order to retreat beyond the Rock.”
“Commander Brach started it by attacking Trure,” Selivia said.
“Perhaps he did,” the soldier said, “but be wary of how you speak to him in your negotiations, Princess of Vertigon. Few Soolens are in the mood to parlay with Vertigonians after the damage their Fire Weapons have done, Commander Brach included.”
Selivia didn’t answer. She wished she could carry Vine and Latch’s voices on her shoulders to help her know what to say. She got the impression the stocky soldier meant well, but she had no choice. She had to ask Commander Brach to yield.
The sun beat down on them, and for once, Selivia wished for the wind that usually blasted sand through the streets. She wiped sweat from her forehead, a result of both heat and nerves, as they approached the commander’s headquarters. The house had a bright-red awning shading an area where its former occupants used to eat dinner as a family. Now the large table was covered with a map of the continent, with Soolen soldiers standing around it, looking terribly serious. A few shadowy shapes moved inside the house itself.
“Before you speak with the commander, I’m curious about something.” Selivia’s escort bent closer so his men couldn’t hear. “You said you’re negotiating on behalf of the King of Vertigon?”
“That’s right.”
He gave her a look laced with genuine pity. “I was under the impression that Sivarrion Amintelle died some time ago. Were you aware?”
“That’s not true.”
“Forgive me, Princess, but if you have been wandering in the wilderness, how would you know?”
“Because I’ve spoken to him.”
The soldier put a hand on the saber at his hip, seemingly without realizing what he was doing. “He’s nearby?”
“No.” Selivia looked closer at him, suddenly suspicious of his apparent kindness. “I don’t have to explain it to you. Where’s Commander Brach?”
The soldier frowned, not releasing his grip on his blade. After a moment, he whispered orders to some of his men—probably telling them to search the nearby plains for Siv—and led her to a chair beneath the red awning.
“Please sit, Princess,” he said. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Yes, please.”
Selivia settled in a simple wooden chair in the shade while her escort entered the house. More Soolen officers marched around the map table, all looking purposeful and grim. They wore military uniforms, but apart from the silver knots indicating the handful of Watermight Wielders, she couldn’t tell their ranks. She wished Sora were here. She had once planned to marry the Crown Prince of Soole, and she had studied their customs extensively.
Commander Brach still hadn’t made himself known by the time the older soldier returned with her tea and a plate of pink feather cactus. He set the tray on a chair beside her and poured a cup of the steaming liquid for each of them before sitting down beside her. The Far Plainsfolk believed there was nothing more soothing than hot tea on a hot day, and the Soolens seemed to have adopted the custom during their brief stay.
They sipped in silence while Selivia tried not to let on how pathetically grateful she was to be close enough to civilization for tea. Ripples spread across the surface of her cup from her trembling hands. She wished they could get on with it already. Latch had warned her Commander Brach might make her wait so she’d be eager to conclude the negotiations
quickly. Well, if that was his plan, it was working.
“Do you have the Air Sense, Princess?”
“What?” Selivia looked up at the stocky soldier, who was studying her shrewdly.
“I’ve been trying to think of how you could be communicating with King Sivarrion. The Amintelles have magical ability in their ancestry, but I thought it had died out some time ago.”
Selivia’s mouth dropped open, and she quickly filled it with tea to cover her surprise.
“I thought you said he was dead.”
“Perhaps not . . . despite my best efforts.” The soldier snorted softly.
There was something very familiar about that sound. Selivia came to a sudden realization about her escort. She set down her teacup, crossed her legs, and did her best impression of Vine Silltine.
“Actually, Commander Brach,” she said sweetly, “my brother is alive and well. He is currently traveling with your son, Latch.”
The soldier choked on his own tea, and some of the hot liquid splattered over his chin. Selivia hid a grin. He probably wasn’t surprised she had figured out he was Commander Brach himself—but he was very surprised indeed to hear his son’s name.
Commander Brach recovered his composure quickly. “My latest information indicates that Latch has taken up with a group of Steel Pentagon fighters in Pendark.”
“That’s old news,” Selivia said. “I spoke to him just this morning using a channel of Air.”
“So you are a Sensor.”
“No, I’m not. But Latch is with one now—and with my brother, King Siv.”
“In Pendark?”
“Outside of it.”
Commander Brach sat back in his chair, considering his words carefully. “If you think your connection with my son will help in your negotiations, I must warn you that my son is dead to me. I have no interest in helping his friends.”
“What about helping Fort Brach?” Selivia said. “Your wife is there, and your younger sons. Latch says you took all your soldiers and Waterworkers with you, leaving the fort vulnerable to an attack.”
Commander Brach gripped the arms of his chair. He jerked his head, and the men who’d been milling nearby retreated out of earshot.
“What kind of attack?” he said. “What do you know?”
“Lantern Maker Ruminor is marching toward Soole as we speak. You’ve already seen what he can do in Rallion City, and Fort Brach will be the first line of defense when he reaches Soole. Also, a Pendarkan Waterworker named Khrillin knows about your special Watermight-carrying dragons. He’ll want to kill your family, capture your Watermight vent, and enslave your dragons. Your household guard may be able to stand against one threat, but not both. It’ll all be over before you make it halfway across the plains to help.” Selivia took a deep breath. So far, so good. She had a lot of lines to remember.
Commander Brach’s face could have been carved from stone. He didn’t reveal so much as a flicker of fear when she mentioned the revelation of the Brach secret.
“You have a proposal to prevent this?” he said flatly.
“My brother and your son are much closer to Fort Brach than you are right now. They have men and a very powerful Wielder in their service. They are willing to travel to Soole to protect your home—if you agree to an exchange.”
“Go on.”
Selivia faltered. She had hoped he’d be begging for their help by now. “They . . . they want you to leave the Far Plains,” she stammered. “They want you to return to Soole without harming any Trurens or Vertigonians and keep your army within its own boundaries in the future.”
Commander Brach’s chair creaked as he leaned toward her. “You think I’ll give up everything I’ve achieved in the last year just like that?”
“Latch thinks you’ll do it for the sake of his mother and siblings,” Selivia said, “and for the sake of the Brach name. You wouldn’t want it to be cursed for twelve generations, would you?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, you want to save your family.” Selivia’s heart thundered so loudly she was surprised the grim old conqueror didn’t comment on it. She couldn’t remember whether this was part of the speech Vine had given her or not. “Isn’t that more important than ruling a land that doesn’t belong to you?”
Brach rubbed a stubby finger under his eye. “I don’t know what foolishness my son has gotten into his head, but I don’t believe the exiled King of Vertigon has any interest in defending Fort Brach.” He looked her over, his expression cunning. “You are an official emissary, so I will not speak down to you, even though you’re little more than a child. I won’t protect your feelings.”
“Okay . . .”
“I contributed men to the coup against your brother. I had him kidnapped in Rallion City when I learned he had survived. Furthermore, I conquered your grandfather’s cities, one right after another.” Commander Brach stood, and Selivia couldn’t believe she had ever thought him an ordinary soldier. He loomed over her, blocking out the desert light like an ominous shadow. “I would be the King of Trure now if not for the Fireworker Ruminor. He betrayed me and ruined my carefully laid plans.” Commander Brach’s hand curled into a fist. “Now tell me, Princess, why you think I would agree to a deal with any Vertigonian, least of all your brother?”
“Because you lost.” Selivia’s voice sounded small, and it was all she could do to keep from shrinking back from the man who had brought so much destruction to the continent. “Your plan didn’t work out as well as you hoped. Maybe it was my brother’s fault for not dying, or maybe it was the Lantern Maker’s fault. The point is, you failed.”
She half expected Commander Brach to strike her for her impudence, but instead he stared at her as if she had suddenly transformed into a true dragon. She grew braver as the image popped into her head. She’d make a magnificent dragon.
“The Fireworkers killed a bunch of your men,” she said, “and your family is in danger. I’m sure you didn’t want things to turn out this way, but now you have a chance to fix it. My brother wants peace more than anything. He’ll stop the Lantern Maker and bring all the Fireworkers back to Vertigon. He’ll help your family too, if you agree to retreat without fighting anyone else.”
“He’s so sure I’ll uphold the bargain?”
“Latch vouched for you,” Selivia said. Commander Brach looked taken aback, and she rushed on. “He says you’re noble. You lost your way for a while, but he says you’ll do the right thing in the end.”
“If he’s so sure, why didn’t he speak to me himself?”
“He said you’d think it was an Air trick.”
Commander Brach snorted. “That’s true enough.”
He fell silent, and Selivia studied his face for clues to what he was thinking. She wondered how much Latch looked like him. It was strange to speak on behalf of someone she had never even met to his own father. Almost as strange as negotiating with one of the most powerful and feared men on the continent. She wished Sora could see her.
Commander Brach sat down beside her again. The ominous shadow abated, and he was the soldier who had escorted her down the Rock once more.
“Tell me, Princess Selivia, what is your part in all this?”
Selivia blinked. “My part? I’m just the messenger.”
“It was brave of you to agree to serve as a hostage.”
“I’m not a hostage.” Selivia clutched her teacup tighter. “Latch said you’d let me go.”
“I don’t think I will,” Commander Brach said. “And I don’t agree to your demands, either. Your promises are empty, and I’m not getting enough out of this bargain.”
Selivia’s heart fell like a stone in the Fissure. She had thought he was about to agree for sure. “Peace in the continent isn’t enough?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“What about Fort Brach?”
“I’ve found myself a new home.” Commander Brach nodded at the sunlit street, where passing soldiers stirred up dust beneath their boots. A
touch of melancholy flickered in his eyes. “Soole does not want me back.”
“But—”
“Thank you for your efforts, Princess Selivia, but you will not entice me away from my prize. The Amintelles want to fill the power vacuum I created in Trure. If your brother truly defeats the Lantern Maker, what is to stop him from extending his dominion into Soole or the Far Plains next?” The commander’s voice took on a bitter note. “I will not surrender what I have rightfully taken so he can set up an empire atop the foundation I built with the blood of my men.”
“But you—”
“Unless you can guarantee that your brother will leave Soole and Fort Brach alone permanently when all this is done, I’m afraid this negotiation is over.” He began to stand.
“What about a marriage alliance?” The words were out of Selivia’s mouth before she could think.
Commander Brach paused halfway out of his chair.
“You’re worried about what’ll happen in the far future,” Selivia continued. “That’s what marriage alliances are for.” She’d been taught this all throughout her childhood. She had hated the entire concept, wanting nothing but beautiful romances for herself and her siblings, but she couldn’t think of another way to guarantee a long-term friendship between the Brachs and the Amintelles. She leaned toward the commander. “If our families are linked, they would have a bond as strong as the one between Vertigon and Trure. My parents’ marriage made both of their countries stronger.”
“Did your brother tell you to suggest such an alliance?”
“No, sir. It’s my own idea.”
“I see.”
“But would you consider it?” she said desperately. “You’d have to withdraw from Trure and leave the Vertigonians alone, but you’d have a powerful alliance with both Vertigon and Trure for the rest of your days. I’m sure that would encourage the Soolen royals to welcome you back too.”
Commander Brach didn’t answer, and Selivia resisted the urge to keep babbling. She remembered something Vine had said about the commander’s pride and how he could be looking for a dignified exit after the failure of his invasion. He was trapped here after his defeat by the Fireworkers, cut off from his homeland, short on men, unable to admit his mistake. She couldn’t push him, though. She had made her offer, and the decision was in his hands now. At least she knew her sister had always wanted to tie Soole and Vertigon together through marriage. Sora might get to marry a Soolen lord after all!