Uniting the Heavens

by Emily English

  “Aren, please sit awhile!”

  Vir could hear the smile in her voice. It had been a long time since she had sounded like that when talking to him. He also noted how informal she was around the young man, and Vir moved to stand by the door, out of view.

  “Gods, look at you. What happened?”

  “Apologies for my current state; I had a rough evening,” Aren said, sounding cool and formal. “Your maidservant said you needed my assistance, but I’m afraid I can’t stay long. Elder has me on important tasks.”

  “I’ll steep some of my special tea for you. I use it for headaches, but it should help with any pain.”

  “That’s kind of you but unnecessary.” Aren paused, then said, “The last time you gave me tea, I blacked out.”

  “You were in a frantic state. It was necessary to calm you down. Valine thought you were hallucinating, and she would have dragged you off to Doctor Pember to have your blood drawn and pills forced down your throat.”

  “What’s done is done, my Lady. What service do you require of me?”

  Vir peered into the room and watched as Geyle floated about in her pale-pink gown.

  “I have a confession to make,” Geyle said, walking towards Aren. She kept her eyes focused on the intricate patterns on the rug. “I’ve been in Tiede a while now, but these past few days, in those few times when it’s just been the two of us, I’ve never felt so comfortable. I’m not sure what power it is you have over me”—she laughed a little—“but I do like it.”

  “My Lady…”

  She held up a hand, finally looking at him. “I know Vir has a lot going on right now, and he doesn’t have time for me.”

  “I’m more than happy to entertain you,” Aren said, wincing at his word choice. “Keep you company. Rather, I’m happy to be a companion.” He paused as if to rearrange his thoughts. “I’m glad you’re comfortable with me, and I’m sorry it’s been difficult for you with Lord Vir being so busy.”

  “You are more than company,” she said, almost pleading with him to understand. “I can confide in you, tell you things I couldn’t tell anyone else.”

  Aren seemed to consider this, then said, “If you think so much of me, then I need to ask a favor.”

  “Speak it.”

  “I need you to tell Lord Vir.” Aren stared hard into her pale-blue eyes, and she angled away from him. “Everyone can see he’s sick, and I fear the only ones who might know why are standing in this room.”

  “Why can’t you just trust me?”

  “This trust feels very one-sided.” Aren sounded strange to Vir, exasperated. “Do you have further need of me? I have other duties to attend to.”

  Tears welled up in Geyle’s eyes. “The gods sent you to me. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Not for me.” Aren’s emotions were barely in check. To Vir, this was uncharacteristic. “I have done for you, but you’ve given me no explanations, no assurances.”

  She threw herself into him, clutching tight to his waist. “Vir is paranoid like his father, and he will lock me up if he suspects anything!”

  Aren looked down at her as she cried into his chest. “My Lady, this is…”

  They both turned towards the door at the sound of his footsteps, Geyle gasping as she released Aren from her embrace.

  Vir’s voice was raspy, his tone disappointed as he said, “I trusted you.”

  SEVEN

  Selina was doing her best not to worry as she listened to Nianni explain some of the rituals that would take place during her initiation ceremony. It was hard not to worry when those voices were calling Aren’s name again, and they seemed louder here in Aalae’s worship room with the large window open.

  “Let’s go over the part where you get marked,” suggested Nianni. “It’ll seem scary, so it’s best you’re prepared for it.”

  “Why are Priestesses marked with plants?”

  “It’s a ritual that began long ago when the gods wanted to mark which Priestesses belonged to which gods. The gods send a vision to the Seer on how to mark each new Priestess. The designs, symbols, and flowers all hold special meaning,” Nianni explained as she lifted the hem of her dress to expose one smooth, brown leg.

  Selina traced the swirling design with her eyes, the aqua ink snaking its way up from the top of Nianni’s foot, circling her calf, then over her knee and upwards. “What’s the meaning of yours?” she asked.

  Nianni turned her calf this way and that. “I’m not sure yet. We’re supposed to learn about ourselves as we mature. I don’t even know what kind of flower it’s going to be.”

  “I bet Aren knows,” Selina offered. “He’s not very good at plants, but I’m sure he knows which books to look at.”

  Nianni curled her legs under as if Aren had just walked in. “I’m not letting him examine my marks!”

  Selina lifted a finger and began to draw in the air. She could see the patterns before her, leaves of different types and varying textures. She cocked her head, tracing long green stems that wrapped around and around. Nianni followed the movements, perplexed and curious. “What’re you doing?”

  “They’re leaves,” Selina said, mesmerized by the pictures. “I don’t know what kind, but I bet Aren knows. The goddess wants to help, but she can’t come to Tiede right now.”

  Nianni was entranced. “The goddess is showing you pictures of leaves? What’s that going to help?”

  “Apple, nightshade,” Selina said in a singsong voice. “Discord and magecraft. Aren knows. He’s seen it.”

  “Seen what?”

  “The secrets of the Wood,” Selina explained in a voice not her own. “Aren can save Tiede.”

  EIGHT

  Aren squeezed his eyes shut against the pain in his head as the Guard led him through the halls of the underground dungeons. The dungeons were dark and dank, hewn of stone and lit by torches lining the tight halls. The sound of water dripping and running seemed to echo around them, interrupted only by the wails of the prisoners and the hushed whispers of the wraiths.

  He replayed the scene from earlier, wondering if there was any way it could have come out differently. Vir was standing in the doorway staring at Geyle, who had her arms wrapped around Aren. Vir had hurled question after question at his wife. “What did you ask him to do for you? What things do you ask of him that you won’t ask of me? What are you hiding from me?”

  When Aren had tried to speak, to explain everything, Vir demanded he remain silent. Geyle had refused to share any information. Her body had been racked with sobs, and when the marks on her shoulders began to glow, Vir had seized her by the arm and called the Guard.

  Yet here Aren was, being led through the dungeons. It wasn’t fair, considering he wasn’t the one with the glowing marks, but he wasn’t the one wearing a pink dress either, so it was probably more appropriate for him to be the one entering the bowels of Tiede. He tried not to feel too bitter about it. If Aren were in Lord Vir’s shoes, he would probably choose to lock up the questionable Apprentice rather than his delicate wife.

  The Guard unlocked a cell, and Aren entered. It was devoid of any furnishings, and the bare stone floor and walls made it chilly. It couldn’t have been deeper than eight feet and even less wide. Even the ceiling seemed to press in on him. The Guard brought down the iron bar and locked the door, and Aren leaned against the wall, slipping down until he was sitting on the cold floor. He listened to the Guard’s footsteps echo down the hall as he jogged back towards the exit, eager to leave the darkness and terrors.

  Aren hugged his knees. At least the voices in his head dulled a little—enough to allow him to ponder his fate anyway. His mind drifted to Lake, and he smiled despite himself.

  You left and my world imploded. I’d give it all up if you came back. I’d follow you to Tennar if you’d have me.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn’t helping. Lake was gone and she would have Nikken—an older, mature man who could provide for her if she wanted; a Master in whatever trade he chose, respe
cted by his peers. He imagined her lover was a full-blood Tennari with lineage, someone promised to and blessed by a god at birth, and not some Unblessed, Unwanted boy who had no idea where he came from except Tiede Wood.

  The fire, the water, the stars. What crimes have you committed, boy?

  Aren’s eyes bolted open at the hissing whisper in the Ancient language. A shifting form of mist and shadow moved to the back of the cell, cocking its head one way and then another. The vapor drifted and changed, the shape of its body resembling that of a human, but its hooded head that of a wolf, then a man. Aren stood up, keeping himself pressed against the wall.

  You’ll speak your crimes to me, and I’ll pass judgment. A’bertrinn se’miq vihallc.

  “I’ve committed no crimes against the House, Lord Hraf.” Aren tried to keep the fear out of his voice. He didn’t recognize the man, but the man’s wolf sigil. Hraf was one of the earlier lords of Tiede, renown for his cunning in battle. “Wils rengen a’eqistille.”

  The wraith dropped his large fur hood, revealing a translucent, scarred face and a long, thick gray beard. His eyes were empty sockets, and a sharp grin was the only indication of what the man might be thinking or feeling. Aren stood his ground, reminding himself that the wraith could physically hurt him if it wanted to. Mentally, Aren was sure he was scarred for life.

  It’s been a very long time since I’ve heard anyone speak in my tongue, the wraith said in Ancient, his gruff voice softening just a little. And you recognize me. What are you doing here, if you’ve committed no crimes? You say you are waiting—waiting for what?

  Hoping his Ancient was good enough to appease the wraith, Aren switched over to the forgotten language. “I’m waiting for Lord Vir to decide my fate. He thinks I’ve betrayed him.”

  Your accent is not bad, but it makes me laugh. You’re waiting on Vir to predict your future. Aren was about to correct himself, but Hraf said, Quiet. I know what you meant. It floated closer, examining Aren. The air became colder, and Aren had to clench his teeth to keep from chattering. At last it stilled, its smoky form billowing. There is power in you. What are you, boy?

  “I’m no one. Just the Apprentice in the Library, and that title might soon be stripped of me. My name is Aren.”

  The wraith drifted back a little, as if surprised. You’re the reason the Wood calls. You’re the reason the god came.

  “I am not the reason for anything,” Aren corrected him. “The Wood was creepy long before I was born, I’m sure. As for the god, I was merely present at the time a gigantic falcon flew overhead. Only the House Lord is able to call on the gods.”

  Hraf broke out into laughter so loud that it filled the dungeons, echoed down the tight halls, and caused the mortal wailing in the other cells to stop. He switched to Common. You just said that you showed up as a feathered creature to give witness to the end times, and that the House Lord has the stamina to piss on the gods.

  Aren frowned, feeling flustered. He, too, switched to Common. “End times? Did I say that? I didn’t think I knew the word for end times. I said yvcas, didn’t I?”

  You let the symbol slip out of your mouth, and it changed the word. Aren opened his mouth to respond but then closed it, not quite sure how to ask what he wanted to ask. This only made Hraf laugh again. That’s the trick with what you call the Ancient tongue.

  “Fine,” Aren said, even though it wasn’t fine at all. “How does a symbol get spoken? I didn’t hear it.”

  Hraf had an eerie smile on his misty face. He reverted back to Ancient. Sometimes, languages die because people fear the power in words, in the telling.

  “The language becomes spell,” Aren concluded, his mind reeling. “The language became power.”

  Hraf’s head shifted to that of a wolf with empty eye sockets, and Aren couldn’t stop himself from shuddering. Vir sends you here to be punished, but your being here is an omen.

  The wraith began to diminish, but Aren felt as though they still had so much to discuss. “Lord Hraf!” he called. He switched to Ancient in the hopes that he would linger a while longer. His mind was working now, the gears spinning so fast he thought they might be sent flying. “The power is in the symbols, isn’t it? If I can decipher the meaning, then there’s something in Ancient that can be spoken to neutralize the power, right? You said the symbol can be spoken.”

  The wolf head with the empty eyes stared at him, but the canine teeth glistened in a grin. Ystve a’chyr. Tal tsiom. The wraith dissipated.

  Aren paced the cell, his hands squeezing at his temples. Stars, what had just happened? He had to get to the Library. There were books he had to pull, notes he had to puzzle through, and it wasn’t going to be easy with the voices distracting him. When he heard the iron bar lifting, the sound of a key in the door’s lock, he stopped his pacing. The door opened, creaking loud on its hinges, and Dane walked in, the earlier incident between them forgotten.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Dane said, frustrated. “Didn’t I tell you that something like this was going to happen if you let her—”

  “How’d you hear?”

  “The whole House is talking about it, but Lord Vir ordered your release. Everyone’s afraid the curse is at work again, and half the city is cursing your Unblessed existence. I leave you alone for a few hours, and you get yourself thrown in the dungeon. Unbelievable.”

  “The curse,” Aren muttered, following his brother and the Guard.

  “People are talking about how Lord Vir’s turning into his father,” Dane said as the Guard led the way out of the dungeons. “They’re comparing it to when Lord Ren killed Lady Elleina in a fit of jealous rage.”

  “No one knows that Lord Ren killed her. Even Lady Valine couldn’t confirm it.”

  Dane shrugged. “The people who aren’t cursing your existence are the ones who are completely in love with or pity you. Those people—and a lot of them are in this very House—know you wouldn’t have betrayed Lord Vir. The Illitheiens went to him on your behalf too.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’m sure Lord Vir finally got the truth from Lady Geyle, and that’s the reason he’s letting me out. Have you heard anything about me being kicked out of the House?”

  “No, but Lord Vir wants you in his study. It’s getting bad. Two more servants are dead from some illness. Three more dead citizens found on Guild Row. People outside of the House are screaming and chanting; they want Lord Vir to do something. The pressure’s too much. Between the attack on you last night and whatever the Lady’s done, he’s decided to put out the order for the detainment of the marked.”

  Aren stopped in his tracks, causing Dane to stop as well. The Guard turned to look at them, and Aren gave him a nod to indicate that he could leave. “How long was I locked up? It couldn’t have been more than ten, twenty minutes?”

  The look of concern on Dane’s face worried him. “It’s been hours. It’s early evening.”

  Aren attempted to replay his conversation with Lord Hraf in his head. It wasn’t that long, was it? Had he been asleep? Had it been a dream? Unsure what to think, he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “Selina says they’re calling you again.”

  “I felt a little safer in the dungeon,” Aren said by way of confirmation. They walked in silence for a while before he realized how self-absorbed he was being yet again. He put a hand on Dane’s shoulder to stop him. “Rieka. Is she all right?”

  “Rieka and Lady Geyle are locked up in Alaric’s worship room. She’s fine.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Selina had another vision,” Dane said, his voice quieting. “Apparently, the gods think you can save Tiede. They mentioned you by name. Could be that’s why Lord Vir let you out.”

  NINE

  Taia stared at Kaila with contempt. “Aalae is seething. She wants us to fulfill our promise and send Tanghi back to help stave off the mages until they can get the Priestesses out.”

  Alaric ignored her and asked, “What’s going on in Tiede?”


  Tanghi took a seat next to Kaila. “One of my Guardians is with Tiede’s Hunters, looking for the beast. The other Guardian Kaila mentioned is in the House.” He held up three fingers, then looked at her. “You mentioned three, but those are the only two I found working directly with the House.”

  Kaila shrugged, hoping she looked more nonchalant than she felt. Her heart was hammering at the thought of Aren. “Three young men fought together and addressed each other as brother.”

  Tanghi thought for a moment, then brightened. “I know who you mean now. He’s not a Guardian, but the blacksmiths adopted him into their family when he was a child. He’s not blessed; don’t know much about him.”

  “As long as he’s protecting Vir, I don’t care if he’s blessed or not,” Alaric said, writing on the parchment laid out before him. “Return to Tiede. I’ll stall Aalae as long as I can.”

  “Do something with me.” Kaila wanted to beg, but she kept her tone even. “Send one of us to Trum and the other to Tiede. I can watch just as well as Tanghi.”

  Alaric only raised an eyebrow, indicating that it was a ridiculous request. He continued with his writing, and Tanghi returned to the hearth and disappeared into the flames.

  Frustrated, Kaila explored the bookcases behind Alaric’s desk, her fingers skimming over the spines. If she found more information on symbols, Selina could pass the message on to Aren. The connection she had made with the little Priestess was proving more beneficial than she could have imagined, and she was going to use it to keep Aren safe.

  “What are you looking for?” Taia asked suspiciously.

  “Books on symbols or marks. The creature had them along its shoulder, and since I’m not doing anything, I wanted to see if I could find some information.”

  “Anything with the capability to use magic bears marks.” Taia sounded annoyed, but a look from Alaric forced her to move. She pulled out a book and flipped through it until she found what she was looking for. She pointed at the diagrams. “Mage with the silver marks, angels with marks carved into their horns, demons with marks covering their bodies.” Kaila’s eyes flashed to Alaric, then back to the book. “Even plants have marks.” Taia’s finger moved to an image of a leindra leaf swirled through with faint silver scrollwork.