Uniting the Heavens

by Emily English

  With his good looks and outgoing personality, Gerrit Dane was a natural showman. As far as looks went, he—and the whole Gerrit family, for that matter—was the epitome of the ideal Tiede citizen. The strong, compact build was indicative of a dedicated working class. Jet-black hair, dark obsidian eyes, and pale skin symbolized their connection to the Night god, whom Tiede worshipped. On top of that, Gerrit hair was layered with strands of a deep, blood red, and their pupils showed motes of crimson and amber in the light. The traits branded them as belonging to the Fire god, the family’s patron god.

  Aren watched Dane and felt that pang of jealousy that struck him every once in a while. He loved his family, especially his brother, but he would never look as they did, ingrained as the Gerrits were in Tiede’s very soul. Aren forced his demons away, hating himself for being so childish, and tuned back in to the laughter and music and Dane’s rich, gravelly baritone. When the song ended, the crowd erupted into cheers and Dane handed the guitar back to the lead musician, raising his hands to the crowd in modesty, which only caused them to cheer even louder. Aren shook his head before making his way over to his brother.

  The musicians picked up another tune, slower this time, and the crowd took it as their cue to get more drinks and find a spot to sit and chat, or head home for the evening. Aren took a seat at the table, just as the waitress put down fresh glasses; Dane poured.

  “Tse frie,” the brothers said the traditional Tiede toast in unison, clinking their glasses before taking a drink.

  “Starved for attention tonight?” Aren asked, tapping the tips of his fingers against the frosted glass. He noticed a bump accompanied by the telltale purpling of a blossoming bruise on Dane’s chin.

  “I was getting bored waiting for you. Had a rough day after I left you at the House.”

  “You had a rough day? You and I have different definitions of ‘rough.’” Aren took a long pull on his beer, welcoming the cool and frothy liquid down his throat. He slid down the chair just a little so he could lean back.

  “Lana designed a new set of daggers, and Kel Bret spent the last week making the prototype, so Father wanted Gryf and me to fight with them, figure out if there were any flaws.” Dane leaned back in his chair, mirroring Aren. “First, I showed up late, and Father yelled at me. Then, Rieka comes over, hot as the gods, yelling at me because I forgot we had made plans. Gryf starts laughing his ass off—”

  “Gryf doesn’t laugh.” Aren smirked, thinking of their older brother’s fierce, stone-like demeanor.

  “You know what I mean. He gets that look like he might…” Dane took a gulp of his drink. “So after I punched Gryf, mother started lecturing me about my lack of sensitivity—”

  “So that welt on your chin is where Gryf hit you back.”

  “It’s been a bad afternoon.” Dane rubbed at his face. “I guess it can’t be as bad as yours was, considering what a mess you looked earlier. I was right about the rumors, though! Selina is going to be a Priestess!”

  Aren drank down more of his beer. “Initially, you said I was chosen to be a sex slave.”

  “I said there were three popular rumors. Don’t try to pin the wrong ones on me. You should be glad the House finally put out the official word about Selina. People were coming up with weird stories about you.”

  “Should I be glad that Selina’s been chosen at random to serve gods she doesn’t understand? Glad that she’ll be joining a group of holier-than-my-shoes women who take care only of the blessed?” Aren grumbled, taking another swig of beer.

  “What’ll you do?”

  “What can I do? They won’t even let me near her—probably for fear that I’d corrupt her. I thought that I’d at least be able to be there so she won’t feel alone and terrified.”

  “Together and terrified. You’re right, that’s much more comforting.”

  He nodded at Dane’s chin. “I hope that hurts.”

  Dane grinned. “It does, if it makes you feel better.” He took a drink. “You worry too much. You’re overprotective. You need to take a step back and think about Selina’s future.”

  “Since when did you become familiar with the word ‘future’?” Aren chuckled, refilling their glasses. “Last I recall, father was lecturing you on selecting an apprenticeship.”

  Dane raised his glass, and Aren clinked his against it. “This isn’t about me,” Dane said. “This is about your narrow-minded way of thinking. Selina will never have a future because there’s no record of a blessing.”

  “I have no blessing, but I’ve managed to do something with my life.”

  “You’re my brother, blood or not, but the rest of the world sees you as Unblessed. With Selina, that’ll be erased forever.”

  Aren took a drink, then put his glass down harder than he had intended, splashing some beer. “The world puts too much value on sacred, flowery words and not enough on what a person truly is.”

  Dane signaled the waitress for another pitcher of beer, then looked Aren in the eye. “You can’t change the world, but like you said, you managed to change your life. You’re apprenticed to the most powerful House in Cordelacht. Why not give Selina the same chance?”

  “She’s being forced to be a Priestess,” Aren argued. “She didn’t ask for it.”

  “Stop being so negative,” Dane said, his tone conciliatory. “You’re the only one she listens to. At least teach her to face a challenge head on. This won’t be the hardest thing she does.”

  Aren stared into his glass, watched as little bubbles played on the surface. They were silent for a moment, and he was frustrated because his brother was probably right. The waitress came over, poured fresh glasses and left the new pitcher. Dane must have seen it as an opportunity to change the subject because he asked, “So what trouble did you get into that made you smell like rotting fish?”

  Aren laughed, thankful for his brother’s ability to read him. He took another swig and sobered up. “I watched Fisherman Henrik die out on the Taethe.” Dane cocked his head as if he hadn’t heard right, but Aren held up a hand. “Then, this mage, the one that killed Henrik, chased us into the Wood, and we got lost.”

  Dane nearly spit up his beer. He dragged an arm across his mouth. “What in the gods’ names were you doing in the Wood? Have you gone mad?” A few patrons at the bar looked over at them. Dane cleared his throat and leaned into the table. “I’m sorry to hear about Henrik. I know he was a friend, but you’re lucky you aren’t dead too! Remember all the times Gryf and I had to drag your unconscious ass—”

  “There’s more,” Aren interrupted him, feeling a little lighter now that he was able to get it all off his chest. “There was a gnome, mushrooms were lighting up, the headaches—stars, the headaches.” Aren was rambling now, his memories flashing before him. “Then the unicorn, but that was kind of a good thing because it killed the mage—”

  “The headaches are back?” Dane interrupted.

  “Yes,” Aren confirmed, leaning forward. “Did you hear me say ‘unicorn’?”

  Dane placed the flats of his palms on the table. “Unicorns were all killed off hundreds of years ago. You imagined a unicorn because of the headaches, and the headaches made you go into the Wood.”

  “This time was different. We ran into the Wood to get away from the mage. I wasn’t called into the Wood like the other times, so I remember everything. There was a gnome; he claimed to know me.”

  Dane shook his head. “This is always how it starts. You get a headache, then it gets worse, then we’re having to restrain you from going to the Wood—”

  “And I manage to go anyway,” Aren finished for him. “I remember that much.”

  “Well, the rest of us remember how we find you unconscious, sometimes beaten. You’re ill for days afterward.” Dane softened his tone. “I know you don’t want to go through these episodes again, but the rest of us are just as gutted about it when we see what happens to you.”

  “I know.”

  “Gods, the number of times you’ve w
andered into the Wood like a ghost and come out unable to remember a thing.”

  “I know.”

  “Stop agreeing with me,” Dane demanded in a harsh whisper. “You were found beside the Wood. What if that’s where you’re from, and the creatures want you back? Why would a gnome claim to know you?”

  “Mother said the Tinkerer found me by the road.”

  “By the road beside the Wood,” Dane stressed. “Why were you even there?”

  Aren jabbed at the table with a forefinger to emphasize each of his points. “First of all, I was just a child. How am I supposed to know? Second, it makes much more sense that I was dropped off or abandoned—or what have you—by travelers on the road, not travelers going through the Wood.”

  “Unless you’re the spawn of lunatics,” Dane offered. “Which, knowing you, is a real possibility.”

  “It doesn’t help that I can’t find a hint of who these lunatics were.” Aren slumped in his chair. “The greatest Library in Cordelacht, and I can’t find the two simple folks responsible for my birth.”

  “Maybe it’s best we don’t know what happened to you,” Dane said. “It was a long time ago, and you have a family now. Finding out who your biological parents are isn’t going to change you or where you belong. You’ve been obsessing about it for years; maybe it’s just time for you to let it go.” Dane thumped a finger against the table, then said, “It seems strange that these things are happening. I really thought you were done with this.”

  The musicians were playing more upbeat songs now, and people were getting up to dance. Aren and Dane watched for a while, letting the silence between them sweep away any tension. After a few measures, Dane took a big swallow of his drink, then poured again. Aren raised his glass in thanks, then said, “I can’t stay much longer; I’m on an errand for Elder.” He took down a gulp. “I might have had too much as it is.”

  “You just got back. Relax.”

  “Relaxing was the purpose of my trip, and look how successful that was. Everything was normal when I left, but since I’ve been back it feels like the world’s tilted.”

  “Where’ve you been? The world’s been tilting for a while now,” Dane said, catching the condensation running down his glass. “People say the gods have been too silent. They say the Houses are going to go to war.”

  “You sure do listen to a lot of rumors,” Aren chuckled.

  “Father says we need to step up production,” Dane continued, ignoring him. “He’s had me working with Kel Bret while you were gone. Gryf’s also been coming by the forge. We could use your help. The work went faster when you were still living at home.”

  Aren smiled at the memory. “I’ll try to find time tomorrow. Right now, I’m on a quest for certain scrolls.” He wanted to tell Dane about his conversation with Lady Geyle, but decided against it.

  “What topic are you obsessed with now?” Dane asked.

  “Curses.”

  “The kind you get when you wander into Tiede Wood?”

  Aren dropped his voice to a whisper, ignoring Dane’s comment. “Curses on the House.”

  Dane lowered his voice as well. “I’m guessing this isn’t something Elder asked you to do. Why are you looking? The only curse I can think of is the death of Lady Elleina.”

  Aren looked perplexed. “The family volume says she died of an illness.”

  “Of course that’s what it says, but people think that Lord Ren killed her or that she killed herself.” Dane straightened up. “We shouldn’t talk about it here. Lord Vir might lock us up.”

  “Well, he’s going to lock me up anyway if he finds out I read that message I brought back,” Aren whispered. “But you didn’t hear me say anything about a message.”

  Dane looked like he wanted to punch Aren in the face. “I don’t know about it. Gods, Aren, have you lost your mind?” He paused, then added, “What did it say?”

  Aren got up, dropped enough silver on the table to cover Dane’s entire evening. “Best you don’t know.”

  Dane nodded. “You’re probably right. Hey, stay a while longer. Sing harmonies with me on just one song, and we’ll get enough in tips to pay for three nights of going out.”

  “I would but I can’t, and you know I’m not big on singing in front of people the way you are. Give my love to Rieka.”

  “And you give Elder a swift thump on the back with your ugly new staff for me. Tomorrow, you’ll tell me what that’s all about.”

  Aren chuckled, readjusted his hood, then made his way out into the night. He was tired, but there was still so much left to do before he could return to the House. He should’ve grabbed something to eat. He decided to order a little something to take with him. He stood at the edge of the tavern crowd, his eyes darting, fishing for a waiter when he had the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. He looked around, his eyes concealed by the depths of his hood. No one paid him any mind, carrying on with their drinking and talking and laughing. He moved away from the lamplight and slipped a hand into his vest pocket; the key was still there. He was being paranoid. The key was making him nervous, and he had to get on with it so he could return it to Geyle. Eating would have to wait.

  He was turning back towards the town center when he caught sight of a slender figure dressed in black crouched on the tavern’s rooftop. He took a step forward to call out, when a shower of stars began to dance across the sky. It was so dazzling that it caught everyone’s attention, and the people looked up, delighted and terrified. This was a rare omen from the Night god, and several people fell to their knees out of reverence.

  Aren was enthralled by the display, but he returned his attention to the rooftop, where he watched a cloak follow its wearer away into the night.

  TWENTY

  Kaila cursed herself for allowing Aren to see her, but when his eyes had locked onto something in the skies, she found herself following his gaze and watching as the shower of light glittered. She shot upright, her eyes wide. “Alaric,” she said under her breath, running across the tall and elaborate rooftops of Guild Row towards the Parthe Sea. When she descended from the guild house at the far eastern corner, she ran the remaining distance over the sand-littered cobblestone and hopped up onto the white slate wall. Over a thousand feet below, the Parthe Sea crashed against the sheer cliffs as if begging to be let in. She looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was around, then pushed herself off the wall, diving into the cold, churning water.

  Alaric had been very clear in his message. Come home immediately, Kaila, the stars had relayed to her. She had been away for longer than she should have been, but she was so caught up and fascinated with her two mortals that returning home had slipped her mind. She’d made a reckless mistake.

  Alaric’s Keep sat overlooking the sea in the Realm of Night in a manner similar to Tiede. It was an imposing, black fortress patrolled by black-winged demons and protected by a gate of fire on one side and water on the remaining three sides.

  There were thin crevices in the cliff through which the sea could enter, and Kaila allowed herself in, following the tight, underground vein that opened up into a fire-lit cave with high, smooth walls. She washed onto the coarse, black sand, squeezing the water from her hair and walking towards a section of mirrored wall. She straightened the silken black robes that concealed her as she stepped out of the water and examined her reflection. Then she secured the wide, turquoise, satin sash around her waist.

  She took a tunnel leading from the underground cavern, passing several demons, who tucked in their wings and bowed their heads to her in respect. At the end of the tunnel, she walked up a short flight of stairs that led to a slab of marble door, where a large demon greeted her. She placed her hand on the door, and the demon followed suit, causing the door to vanish, allowing her into the Great Hall.

  The Hall appeared to be a section of the vast night sky, without walls or ceilings or floor. Being in the room felt like falling through the stars, and only Alaric’s people knew where to find the doors that led
into and out of the Hall.

  Tanghi was treading a path along the Guardian constellation. He rushed to Kaila when he saw her. “Where have you been?” he asked, concern etched on his dark face. “Alaric had a Summons, and you were supposed to be there,” he said as he walked her to Alaric’s study. “He was worried.”

  Kaila rolled her eyes. “What’s to worry about? I can take care of myself.”

  He shortened his stride so that she could keep up. “Neither he nor I will ever forget that time when the fisherman—”

  “That was a very long time ago!” she exclaimed.

  He stopped her in the middle of the hallway. “Going to see Alaric in a bad mood isn’t going to help. Sabana and Geir told Aalae they spotted you in Tiede among the mortals. What were you thinking?”

  She wondered how they had known and why Geir would have given her up so easily. “I wasn’t in any danger,” she said at last.

  They walked the remainder of the way in silence, but she reached for Tanghi’s hand and gave it a little squeeze before letting go. If Alaric was angry then this was going to be unpleasant, and she needed a little of Tanghi’s courage.

  The doors to the study were wide open, and Alaric sat behind his desk, which was covered in maps and scrolls, glass vials of various sizes, and instruments used for measuring. Stardust littered the surfaces and floor like sand, glittering in the twilight.

  Alaric held a long, thin dagger in his left hand, the thumb and index finger of his right sliding back and forth along the flat of the blade. When they entered, he didn’t look up or acknowledge them. Tanghi took a seat by the hearth, far from Alaric’s desk, and opened a book, pretending to read it.

  Kaila stood before Alaric, her eyes focused on the rows of books behind him, waiting for him to speak. To her left, she could hear the sea rising and crashing. The crickets and cicadas called out to each other, chirping and singing like day birds. Thunder rumbled low in the clouds overhead, and the fire that wound itself around Tanghi crackled. Kaila waited, the noises seeming to get louder with Alaric’s silence.