by Morgan Rice
“It’s real,” Henry said, his hand tightening around the spear. “I can feel it.”
“Be careful, or people will mistake you for a witch,” Loris said with a laugh Henry didn’t share. “Yes, well, I suppose I should go down and make sure that the preparations for tonight’s banquet are on course.”
There would be a banquet, because it seemed that there was always a banquet. Loris hurried off, heading in the direction of the main house. Henry wasn’t entirely surprised when Imogen stayed behind.
“Loris didn’t mean to call you a witch,” she said. “He doesn’t see the damage that jokes like that can cause.”
Henry sighed. “Loris was always the one who was quick with a joke, and always the last to see why it was in poor taste.”
“True,” Imogen said with a smile. She moved closer to him, kissing him quickly, before he could think to stop her. “This is probably in poor taste too.”
“Imogen,” Henry began, with a warning note. “You know we can’t. We mustn’t.”
“Are you telling me that you don’t want to?” Imogen countered.
“Of course I want to,” Henry said. He shook his head. “This isn’t about what I want though, any of this.”
“You don’t want to be the man who’s here with me? You don’t want to have an excuse to be here at the hall?” Imogen asked. She was playing a game with him, of course. Imogen had never been the foolish girl she was playing at being now.
“It’s not an excuse,” Henry insisted. “It’s a real reason. The only way that I can have justice is to be the king these people need.”
He heard Imogen sigh.
“You could put this whole idea of ‘justice’ aside,” she pointed out. “There is a greater enemy, and your cousin… I know you’ve heard some of the stories of what they did, but Angelica was hardly sweet or innocent. She could be a cruel thing.”
Henry paused at that, caught between the need to defend his family the way honor demanded and the recognition that Imogen was only telling the truth as she saw it.
“You know that I cannot simply abandon honor,” Henry said. “If I do not have that…” He shook his head. “Honor demands justice for my cousin, whatever she may have done. She was the queen. My whole claim to lead here rests on it.”
“You lead because you can keep these people safe,” Imogen replied. “You have given them a way to come together, and a place aside from the chaos. You are strong for these people.”
“And I need my honor to stay strong,” Henry said. “I need… I need to be the man I am expected to be here. That man cannot betray his oldest friend, cannot stand back from the things he is expected to do, cannot… cannot just forgive a murder. When Sophia comes back, she must die.”
“If she comes back,” Imogen said. “Perhaps she will stay across the sea.”
“Perhaps everything will work out conveniently?” Henry asked, with the kind of bitter laugh that came from knowing that things very rarely worked out conveniently.
“Is it so hard to imagine?” Imogen said. “Henry, fate has given you a royal title, an army, and a place at the heart of all of this. Is it so hard to think that other things might work out just as well?”
Henry wasn’t sure what to say to that. He had a hard time thinking of any of this as having worked out well. It was simply the way things had to happen.
“We should head back towards the others,” he said. “People will talk, otherwise.”
“People are already talking,” Imogen said. “It is what they do best. You know that, because you’re one of the ones who listens.”
Most people wouldn’t have noticed that about him. Most people thought that Henry didn’t pay attention to the world, didn’t plan, didn’t think. He might not be his subtle and conniving cousin, but he wasn’t stupid, either.
He led the way back towards the house, watching the men drilling and working along the way. Some of them were skilled, while some were anything but, pressed into service by their betters.
“Many of them will die when the fight comes,” Henry said.
“Many of them would have died anyway if they had stayed where they were,” Imogen said. “The New Army would have come for them. At least here, they can fight together, armed and commanded.”
Henry had been thinking about that, almost as much as he had spent his time thinking about the forces of the pretender and her traitor husband. Now that Ashton and Stonehome had fallen, those forces barely even existed.
“The New Army will be coming here,” he said.
“You sound very certain,” Imogen said. Henry was almost proud of the way that she didn’t sound frightened by it, but he didn’t get to be proud of her. That was Loris’ job too.
“Their leader seeks death, their soldiers seek conquest,” Henry said. “What’s left to conquer but us?”
“Damn,” Imogen said. “That makes far too much sense for comfort. I take it we fight them?”
“There are some foes a man must stand against,” Henry said. He hefted the spear. “If I can get close enough, this will end the thing that rules them as easily as it would end Sophia Danse.”
“You’re certain?” Imogen asked. “It still looks far too rusted for my liking.”
In truth, Henry suspected that it had probably looked rusted from the moment it was constructed. His best efforts to polish it had yielded nothing, and yet it was sharp, almost wickedly so.
“I believe it will work,” he said.
Imogen reached out to place her hand over his. Henry should have pulled back from her touch, but he didn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away from her when these moments might be the only ones that they had before the end of all this.
“Belief is a powerful thing,” Imogen said, “people’s belief in you has done all of this. Before we face up to all of this, though…” Another of those beautiful, perfect smiles. “Maybe we should test that this weapon of yours does all that we hope it does?”
Henry held the weapon up. He had every faith that it was what he thought, but could he trust all of these lives to that faith? Could he trust Imogen’s to it?
“What did you have in mind?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sophia stood on the deck of High Merchant N’ka’s ship, willing it to go faster. Forcing it to go faster, since her magic pushed wind into its sails when there would have been none otherwise. Sienne sat overhead, perched amid the masts with one paw dangling down idly. It would have been an idyllic scene if High Merchant N’ka didn’t look so furious as he stomped about the deck.
“If carrying us back to my kingdom was going to make you so upset,” Sophia said, “you shouldn’t have agreed to do it.”
“Shouldn’t have agreed, your majesty?” the merchant replied. “When a woman with fresh blood on her and a dozen warriors by her side makes a request, do you really think that a wise man turns it down?”
“You’ll be well rewarded when we get back to the kingdom,” Sophia promised him, expecting the prospect of gold to lift his spirits.
“Will it be enough to make up for everything I have lost?” he countered. “People will see that I have carried you away from Morgassa after you killed the king. I will be called a traitor. If I go back, I will be executed.”
“Or called a hero,” Sophia suggested. “I think that changes will be coming to Morgassa.”
Perhaps she shouldn’t have killed its king. It had been an extreme and impulsive act, the kind of thing that Kate would probably have approved of, and that would probably cause more trouble for all of them. It was something that she couldn’t regret though, when she saw Lani standing happily by the ship’s far rail, and when she thought of the man King Akar had been.
“And in the meantime, I become a merchant with nothing to sell,” N’ka said. “A man can insure with the banks of the merchant states against the weather and against pirates, but not against a thing like this.”
“My kingdom’s treasury will see you well supplied,” Sophia assure
d him, not sure if she even had a treasury right then. “Think of it this way: you have lost the regard of one ruler, but you have gained that of another.”
It was enough to placate the merchant a little, and Sophia was grateful for it. She kept pushing the wind into the sails, hoping that she could be back with Violet and Sebastian as quickly as possible. From what her parents had said, there was no time to lose.
Her parents. The thought of them brought a wave of pain and loss, tempered only by her happiness that she and the others had at least got to meet them before their death. She’d gotten to speak to her mother and father, hold onto them and tell them that she loved them. They’d given her answers, too.
She took out the stone that she had taken from King Akar, holding it in her hand. Above her, Sophia felt the winds that propelled them shift, becoming warmer, hints of heat and steam flickering at the edges. Just by touching it, she felt connected to all the things of fire in the world, able to reach out to see from the flickering flames of candles and cooking fires, able to reach into a mountain filled with fire as it steamed and hissed halfway across the world.
She felt something in the stone whispering to her, pushing at her, urging her to make the volcano erupt and feed the lands below to the flames. It took an effort of will to pull back from that urge and gain control of herself. She stood there staring at the images and symbols cut into the stone. They seemed to shift as she watched them, dancing like half seen afterimages across her eyes.
“My queen, are you all right?” Aia asked. Sophia hadn’t even heard her approach, which seemed impossible, given that she was still wearing her golden armor.
“I’m not sure,” Sophia admitted. “The stone… it feels like it’s almost alive. It feels as though it wants me to… use its powers.”
Aia nodded. “The stones are powerful. Things with so much power have their dangers. There are reasons that they are channeled and contained. Some run the risk of draining those who try to use them, others… they are elemental things, and a human will must be strong to make sure that they do what is required of them.”
“You sound as though you know a lot about magic,” Sophia said. “I’m a little surprised. I thought with the armor that you were a warrior?”
“In the Forgotten City, those two things do not have to be so far apart,” Aia said. “All of us twelve have our talents.”
“And I don’t know what they are,” Sophia said as she realized that there was more she didn’t know. “I don’t even know all of your names.”
“It’s all right,” Aia said. “We all understand how much you’ve lost. It has been hard enough for all of us losing Lord Alfred and Lady Christina. With the time they have spent in our city, we are heartbroken that they are gone, yet for you…”
“I think you’ve probably seen more of them than I have,” Sophia said. “I’d like to hear about that if you have time. I’d like… I’d like to know more about my parents.”
“Of course,” Aia said. “We have the rest of the journey.”
“I’d like to know more about you, too,” Sophia said. “You and the others. A dozen of you have agreed to protect me and help me, but I don’t even know you. I’d like to… I don’t know, talk to you all, meet you properly, or something.”
“Then come with me,” Aia said, leading the way across the ship.
The others were there, practicing together, most of them forming a ring while two of them sparred with a pick-like axe and a serrated sword. They sparred with more than that, too. Sophia could feel the interplay of power there, the web of it shifting back and forth as they pressed at one another’s thoughts. One, a large man, flicked out bursts of force that tried to push the other, a woman who was almost as big, off balance. The woman cut eldritch sigils in the air with her sword that hung there like traps.
They moved around one another in a dance of blades that was curiously beautiful. They cut and moved, the steps so perfectly synchronized that it seemed to Sophia as if they had worked them out in advance. She was sure that they hadn’t, though. This wasn’t some carefully choreographed routine; it was a real contest that just happened to be between two people so evenly matched that it became something more until finally, the man’s fighting pick slid through a gap in the woman’s defenses and lightly touched a spot on her armor above her heart.
“You let yourself be distracted by the rolling of the ship, Hella,” Aia said. “And you, Florian, I wouldn’t be so happy about it. If Hella’s footing had been more secure, she could have cut you down two moves back.”
They turned to her, bowing, and Sophia had a sense of the respect that they had for Aia.
“Our queen wants to meet you all,” Aia said. “Let her see you, and if we’re lucky, she won’t be too terrified by the sight.”
“She hasn’t run screaming from you so far,” one of the women said.
“True, Pha, but then, I’m fundamentally more likeable than you are.”
Sophia had a sense of easy camaraderie between the twelve of them, as if they had all spent a lot of time in one another’s company. She’d had little chance to be that close with anyone except her sister.
She waited while the golden armored figures removed their helmets, one at a time. Each helmet, each suit of armor, was subtly different, some elaborately etched or partly painted, some as plain as golden armor could ever manage to be. One or two had spikes or ornaments attached to the plates, while one had armor that seemed to be composed of thousands of individual golden scales. Some of the helmets were smooth and blank, some were formed into the shapes of animal heads, and some were decorated with symbols that looked as though they were parts of spells.
The people beneath the helms were just as varied. There were as many women as men, while some were large, some were small, some dark skinned, some even paler than the inhabitants of Ishjemme.
“We have come from all parts of the world to the Forgotten City,” Aia said. “We found a place where we fit, and we found that what we were good at was the art of war. There are others who can sing songs that can make the spirits themselves weep, there are some who teach us about the world, or explore places no one else can touch. Fighting is what we do.”
She went along the line of golden armored warriors. A white haired woman with a spear was first. “This is Pha, who once fought against fifty desert raiders, and stalked them through the dark.” A man with the thicker armor of a knight was next, holding a two handed sword. “This is Halek, who used to protect princes for money before he came to us.”
There were more of them: Hella and Florian, Kan Ji and Pollus, Nesterius and Gant. The last three were a man in armor that seemed to flow like waves as he moved, who Aia introduced as Valerian, a woman named Ulli who had axe after axe strapped to her, and a man named Weis who held circular blades in either hand. Each seemed impossibly dangerous, and yet each of them looked to Sophia with something like awe. Standing there with them, Sophia felt utterly protected, utterly safe.
She felt as though she should say something to them. She wanted to express to them just how grateful she was that they were willing to go with her like this, and just how-
The world shifted, and Sophia was standing in front of Ashton, watching it fall. She saw Sebastian there, saw Violet in his arms, and saw them fleeing from the city. She saw the flames there, and the stone in her hand seemed to respond to it. She saw the Master of Crows following, and she wanted to scream a warning, but she couldn’t.
Then she saw Monthys in the distance, saw it surrounded by layer after layer of power. It was like a fortress there, but the walls of that fortress were constructed of energy. She saw Sebastian running towards the house, Violet still clutched to him, and now it wasn’t the Master of Crows following behind, but some long, crow shaped shadow.
Sophia snapped back to herself, and saw the dozen fighters looking at her with obvious worry.
“What is it, my queen?” Aia asked.
“We need to hurry,” Sophia said. “We’re running
out of time.”
She threw her power into the sails again, and the boat shot forward.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kate followed Lisare as she led the way across the island of shadows, not entirely trusting her, but also guessing that the priestess, or whatever she was, represented her best chance of finding the stone that might help her. So far, at least, Lisare had shown no sign of betraying her, but Kate knew how quickly that could change.
People betrayed you, or they left, or they were lost.
“We should move quickly,” Lisare called back to her. “There are many things on this island that will see us as weak if we stand still for too long.”
Kate almost longed for that. Let something attack them, and she would… what? What would she do? She was still too weak to protect the people she cared about. Once, there might have been a time when she might have dared the whole island to come at her. Now, she hurried in the direction Lisare was going.
“Where are we headed?” Kate asked. That way, even if Lisare betrayed her, there would be a way to get to the stone.
“Do you see the waterfall?” Lisare said, pointing.
Kate hadn’t realized that was what it was. Instead, it looked as though black smoke was pouring off the edge of a mountainside, the water so dark with shadows that it didn’t look like it at all.
“There is an entrance beneath it,” Lisare said. “Once we go inside, you will be able to find what you are looking for.”
“Just like that?” Kate asked. “You want me to believe that there are no protections on the stone?”
“A whole island of them,” Lisare said, with a gesture around at the place they were walking through.
Kate had to admit that it was an intimidating enough landscape. Every rock had a sharp edge to it, every plant had thorns. The shadows themselves seemed to reach out for them…