The Light Unleashed

by Kim Stokely

  Kyran draws me to his chest, kisses me on the top of my head. “You are ready, Alystrine. Do not let fear take hold of you.”

  Breathing in deeply, I let his confidence fill me again. I will fight this battle for him, who has saved and forgiven me more times than I deserve. I will honor my mothers, Kennis who raised me and Etain who gave me life. One I loved, one who was murdered before I knew her; both strong enough to sacrifice their own lives so that I might live. I will be brave for my father, uncle and grandmother, all of whom trust I can lead our army in battle against Braedon and whatever demons he has called from hell. I will fight for all the people of Ayden—Elder, Commoners and Mystics, who truly want to leave this dark time of prejudice and fear behind forever.

  And what of me, Alystrine?

  I shiver at the powerful voice that vibrates through me. Even Kyran must feel it since he shudders and draws me closer. Yes Ruahk. I will fight for you. So that this land and its people will truly have peace and know your love.

  Be ready

  The battle is soon and it will not be won with weapons of war

  Then how?

  With faith

  Only when you,

  and those you lead

  learn to trust

  in Me

  ALONE

  I do . . . I will . . .help me.

  Ruahk’s voice fades from my mind, but the echo lingers in my soul.

  “What is happening?” Kyran whispers.

  “Did you hear Ruahk’s voice?”

  “No. But there was a . . . a presence with us. For a moment. A weight in the air that I have never felt before.”

  I lift my face to his. “Everything is in motion now. Nothing we can do will stop it. But I’m not sure what Ruahk wants us to do.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That we won’t need weapons against the Mystics. Only faith.”

  He lets out a soft snort of disbelief. “I do not think faith can defend us from Braedon’s demons.”

  “Somehow it will.”

  Kyran loosens his embrace. “Nevertheless, Geran and your generals will never agree to lay down their swords until Ruahk shows you a bit more of his plan.”

  “You’re right about that.” I sense his thoughts wandering as the intensity in his gaze softens. “What are you thinking?”

  He rests his palm along my cheek, his thumb caressing it. “I look forward to when this war will be over and we are married.” His eyes shine in the soft morning light of the room. “I wish I had not said I would wait two years.”

  There is nothing sexual in his touch. He makes no move to kiss me. And yet my body fills with such heat I think everything inside me must be melting.

  “Your Majesty?”

  Kyran and I jump apart.

  A soldier stands in the doorway. His blush indicates his embarrassment at having interrupted the intimate moment. “The stable master sends word your horse is saddled and ready for your training. He wonders when he might expect you.”

  More than anything, I want to stay here with Kyran, but I know that my time to learn is short. I do not know what Ruahk means by saying faith will win this war, but until I do, I will train as if it is by the strength of my army and the gifts he has given me. “I am ready now.”

  Kyran has found a beautiful silver-gray mare he calls Salaan for me to ride. She is steady, patient and fast. I feel as though she should have wings.

  Kennis made sure I’d learned how to ride back in Connecticut, but I thought it was because she herself loved horses. I never thought she’d been preparing me to rule Ayden. But riding on trails or in a corral is nothing like galloping full speed across rough, open plains.

  We ride back into the palace courtyard as the sun reaches mid-point in the sky, my thigh muscles screaming for relief from keeping my balance for so long. My glutes add their displeasure as I swing myself down to the ground. My legs tremble so violently, I have to lean against the horse to keep my balance.

  “It’s best to keep walking,” Kyran says as he takes my arm.

  I groan.

  “No time for rest. Here comes your combat trainers.”

  Two soldiers approach me. One, an older man whose cropped beard and short hair are peppered with gray, introduces himself as Fintan. He instructs me in hand-to-hand combat but leaves the physical practice to his younger sidekick, a man about Kyran’s age. Both my instructor and Kyran observe and critique everything I do, and neither seem to care that I’m new to all this.

  “Not that way, Your Majesty,” Fintan yells. “You must duck lower and hit harder!”

  Every fiber of my body protests as I learn to kick, punch and jab any opponent who tries to attack me. The longer the training goes on, the more exhausted I become.

  “Focus, Alystrine,” Kyran demands. “You should have this move by now.”

  Any affection I felt toward him this morning is gone. Panting with exertion and frustration, I back away from my sparring partner. “I need a break.”

  I bend over and rest my hands on my knees. After taking several deep breaths, I straighten up.

  As Fintan’s mouth hardens into a thin line, Kyran advances on me. “You cannot waste time. Do it again.”

  His command turns my irritation into resentment. “I’m not stupid. I know there’s no time but—”

  “There are no excuses, Alystrine.” He stalks over to stand directly in front of me. “I understand you are tired. You may even be in pain. But so is every soldier training now to go to battle.”

  “Yes, but when they get frustrated they don’t have to focus all the energy they have left on this,” I wave the glowing Elderstone on my finger in front of his face, “so that they don’t accidently kill the person trying to train them!”

  Kyran and my sparring partner stumble back to escape the sparking weapon on my hand. Fintan lets out a loud guffaw. “By Ruahk!” he exclaims. “Why do I bother to teach you anything if you carry that with you?”

  The memory of Tegan’s tent looms in my mind. “I may have a weapon, but it does not make me invincible.” I let out a long sigh to release remaining tension. “I just needed a moment to get myself under control.” My sparring partner’s eyes are wide with fear. “You’re perfectly safe now. I promise.”

  I train for another hour before an entourage of Elders troops out to the courtyard. The sweat on my skin chills as my partner and I finally stop sparring to watch the procession. Geran leads the pack, carrying the Chrysaline out in front of him. It glows a deep yellow against the graying sky. The sun rests low on the horizon, but at least two hours remain before dusk. As ever, as the orb nears me, its light turns purple. After a day spent in physical exercise, my body longs to crawl into bed. I don’t think I have the energy to chew food should someone offer it to me, never mind keep training. But I try not to let my fatigue show as the Elders draw near. Gratefully, Simon has brought watered wine. My triceps shriek and I can’t help but grimace as I lift the goblet to my lips and drain it.

  Simon lifts an eyebrow. “Should I send for another?”

  Although tempting, it will only prolong my agony. Best to finish this last requirement for the day so I can rest. “No. I’m fine.”

  Taking hold of the Chrysaline, I let out a gasp of surprise. A tingling heat races through my body . . . renewing my stamina . . . energizing my exhausted muscles. The orb hums and sizzles and the choir of voices I’d heard before when it healed me begins to sing again. Several other Elders dressed in white robes also smile. The words are indecipherable, but the music is beautiful. Peaceful.

  Invigorated, I practice manipulating the power of the Chrysaline. At first, it is only the Elders and Kyran who watch me. I start by wielding narrow bolts of light so they explode limbs off the top of a tree beyond the courtyard wall. Maris and Geran’s whispers carry to my ears, or maybe the orb magnifies sound as well. They’re ecstatic at the destruction I can already deliver and the distance the light can travel.

  But that is nothing compared to what
I can do when I draw the power out into small balls of fire. When I throw them, they seem to be able to fly until they hit something. As an experiment, an old wagon is set outside in a field about a mile away. We all troop outside the palace walls.

  At least fifty Elders and generals from my army have come out to see what might happen. Over my shoulder, the windows of the palace are filled with curious servants. Even with all these eyes on me, I don’t feel nervous. Instead, a sense of anticipation fills me. I know whatever happens, the power isn’t mine to possess. It’s only mine to borrow. I give the Chrysaline to my father, but draw a grapefruit-sized ball from it. The light dances above my palms like it too, is excited to demonstrate its power. I take a couple of steps then hurl the energy toward the wagon. Soaring through the air, the purple light fades to lavender, then white; soon looking like a firefly in the distance until it makes contact with the wagon. The gray sky of dusk explodes in a flash of yellow and orange. The flames reach ten or twenty feet into the air. Behind me, some gasp, some shriek.

  It occurs to me then that the two soldiers we’d sent down to wait by the wagon won’t be able to put out such a fire with the few buckets of water they have. Although the field lies fallow, I don’t want to cause any unnecessary damage. I turn and pull another ball of light from the Chrysaline. This time, I Mind Speak to it, not flames . . . water. Again, I throw the energy, but this time in the air, it turns from lavender to gray before blending into the night sky. Just when I think my plan didn’t work, the ball bursts above the wagon in a shower of sparkling light. As the tiny flecks fall, the flames from the wagon sizzle and fade.

  “How . . . how did you do that?” my father whispers by my side.

  My voice matches his. “I asked it to.”

  An odd silence settles over the crowd and I sense a wariness I’d not felt before. The fact that the Chrysaline can do more than destroy seems to frighten them. But why?

  Kyran stands behind Geran, his gaze intense. Inscrutable. My father’s eyes hold the same strange expression. What did I do?

  My grandmother stares at the remains of the wagon, glowing softly like a dying campfire. “I think that is enough for the day.”

  Without a word, I start for the gate. Everyone gives me a wide berth, as if my touch could burn them. I push down my frustration, careful not to prove them correct by letting my ring flame.

  I don’t turn to see if anyone follows, pretty sure they’re going to stay and discuss what I did ad nauseum. As I move farther away from the Chrysaline, its ability to heal me dissipates. By the time I reach the palace door, I’m emotionally exhausted but I hold onto the one thing I’m sure of. While the Elders might not want the Chrysaline to be anything other than a weapon, I will use it however Ruahk leads me. To destroy or to restore. Ruahk alone will decide.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Apologies

  When I get up to my rooms, I say a prayer of thanks for Tamra, who appears to have read my mind. As I’m lowering myself onto the sofa in front of the fireplace, she brings me a goblet of wine. The sweet liquid eases my parched throat and my spinning thoughts. She takes off my boots and I flex my toes, gasping as a cramp shoots up my calf.

  Before I can completely relax, my grandmother requests permission to enter. Her long, gray hair is pulled back into a neat braid, unlike mine, which has come loose from training and the wind. Maris sits down next to me. “You are a marvel. Truly.”

  I let her pull me close and accept her praise, happy that unlike some of the others, she doesn’t seem to be afraid of me. “Thanks.”

  She embraces me a moment more then leans back.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The tribunal you created met this afternoon.” Her blue eyes darken like a storm cloud. “They decided the fates of Hanna and Lady Moira.”

  I try to steel myself. “And?”

  “After hearing all the evidence, both for and against them, it was decided that only the Lady Moira is guilty of intentional treason. She worked to turn your mind toward thoughts of Tegan, so that when you slept, your dreams would be of him. She lied to you about the Lady Siobhan’s betrothal. It was not to Tegan, but to a distant cousin. And Oded gave Moira incantations to say in your bedroom to strengthen the Casting he wove into your bed linen.”

  My stomach rolls. I have to swallow down bile before I can talk. “But Hanna? She is innocent?”

  “Yes. She insisted the tribunal bring in an Elder to read her mind, to verify her testimony was true.” A smile softens Maris’s face. “She opened her mind freely and willingly to mine, and I saw no falsehood or deceit in her. Only the pain of her grandfather’s betrayal.”

  A weight lifts from my shoulders.

  “It is time to allow your ladies-in-waiting back into your routine.”

  “I don’t see any of them wanting permission to fight the Mystics with me.”

  “No, but they can still help you. A young lady needs friends, Alystrine. Especially at a time like this.”

  Maris’s words remind me that I’m still a teenager. One who recently lost her mother. Perhaps I could use someone to talk to besides Kyran.

  “Will you permit them to come in now? To attend you at dinner?”

  I’m physically drained and know this reunion will be very emotional, but everything is moving so fast, this may be one of my last opportunities to see the girls. And, as hard as it will be to do, I need to apologize to Siobhan. I ask Tamra to invite the girls to come to my rooms.

  Maris waits for her to leave before turning back to me. “Now then, I have asked the guards to refrain from letting anyone else in until your ladies-in-waiting arrive so that we might have a talk.”

  It’s an effort to keep my eyes open at this point, so I rest my head against the back of the couch. “Who else wants to talk to me?”

  “Your father. Naill. The entire Elder Council and all of your generals. They all have questions about what happened today in the field.”

  “What was it about putting out the fire that they didn’t like?”

  She raises one eye brow. “It is not that they did not like it, only that no one has ever demonstrated such a power before. The Chrysaline has always been a weapon of light and energy. How did you know it could also create water?”

  “I didn’t. But I don’t see it as a weapon, so maybe that’s why I thought it could.”

  My grandmother’s brows now furrow together. “Not a weapon?”

  “No.” I sit up. “It’s more of a conduit . . . a tool to connect us to Ruahk’s power. And I figured since he created everything, he must be able to make more than just light or energy. So I asked for water, to help put out the fire.”

  Her expression softens. “How did you come to believe this?”

  Memories circulate through my mind as I try to explain. “The Chrysaline proclaimed me queen. It healed me from the demon’s injuries. It showered the people with those balls of light and love. Weapons don’t do that. They only cause pain.”

  “Geran was rather peeved I wouldn’t let him question you about what happened. But he would have spent all night discussing it with you.” She brushes a strand of hair from my face, her fingers lingering for a moment on my cheek before she lowers her hand to her lap. “And I feel just as strongly that after all you have been through, you need the support of your ladies-in-waiting. Especially since you will be training again in the morning.”

  A light knock interrupts us. As the guard opens the door, Maris kisses me on the forehead. “I will go to Geran now and explain what you told me.” Her face grows stern once more. “And you, my dear, open your heart to these women. Be honest with them. For only then will they be able to give you the help you need.”

  “Your Majesty?” Young Ivah calls from the doorway. “May we come in?”

  Ivah’s round, brown eyes are full of concern. The youngest of my entourage, I think she is the most innocent and honest. But can I really trust anyone as much as Maris thinks I should?

  Ivah’s lower lip trem
bles. “Your Majesty?”

  I stand. “Please, come in.”

  The girl narrowly misses sideswiping my grandmother as she runs across the room and flings her arms around me. “Oh my lady,” she sobs. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

  Patting her back with my hand, my focus is drawn to the figure still in the doorway. “Come in, Hanna.”

  The beautiful woman takes a cautious step inside, granting my grandmother enough room to leave, but coming no farther. Hanna’s once straight posture now has a slight stoop; her grandfather’s treason, and the accusation against her, weigh heavy. I can read her doubt. She is afraid that even though my tribunal found her innocent, I will think she is guilty.

  I reach out my hand. “We have both been betrayed, Hanna. I don’t blame you for Oded’s treason.”

  Her perfect features twist. “But he . . . he caused the death of the Lady Kennis . . . how can you forgive me for that?”

  Ivah clutches me closer.

  “Because it was my choices that brought the Elder Council here in the first place. If I’m going to have any hope of forgiving myself, I can’t blame someone whose only fault was to be related to a traitor.”

  I maneuver Ivah so that we can both sit on the couch. It takes a little more coaxing on my part before Hanna will join us.

  Before we can talk, Bronwyn arrives. She rushes in and collapses at my feet. Her eyes are rimmed with red, evidence that she has been crying. She clutches the leather tunic I still wear. “Oh, Your Majesty! I cannot believe Lady Moira would betray us both in such a way. She must have been bewitched by some spell. Have mercy on her.”

  I stiffen under her overdramatic sobs and resist the urge to pull her hands off me. Moira’s constant whispers about Siobhan, the knowledge that she knew of Oded’s Casting and her father’s plan to ruin me—all of this plays in my head as Bronwyn’s tears stain my tunic. Was Bronwyn fooled as I was by Moira’s lies? Or did she have a part to play in all of it?