Knight Chosen

by Tammy Salyer

  The Knights sat in a semicircle around him and described what had occurred between the moment he’d saved Vaka Aster’s vessel, Ulfric, and now. The first thing he was told was that two days had passed. His not knowing the meaning of the word “day” meant the conversation stalled at first until he finally deciphered it—it was about as long as two cycles of Glister Dim and Bright. He’d been out for that long. As they explained, he translated into Himm for Cote, who grew paler and paler as the tale unfolded.

  His vessel-saving jump in front of Evernal’s sword had alerted Vaka Aster, and she’d simply . . . ignited. Stave described it: “Like an emberflare cannon the size of Halla.” In the explosion, a starpath had opened, and every person of both Vinnr and Himmingaze had been transported through it, arriving safely on the flanks of Mount Omina, the natural terminus of Vinnr’s starpath well.

  Almost immediately, Ivoryssian scouts who’d been watching the portal had found them and begun taking the Ivoryssians and other Vinnric survivors back to Asteryss. In the meantime, the Knights had barred all but the Himmingazians from entering the mountain sanctuary, as much to shield Ulfric and Vaka Aster from the stunned and frightened Vinnrics as to protect the foreigners. The people of Vinnr had just been invaded by a force from another realm. The Knights thought it prudent to circumvent any looming hostility they might retain for strangers by keeping the Himmingazians separated.

  “We know only that the warship was destroyed. Beyond that, we’re still waiting for Ulfric, or Vaka Aster, to tell us,” Mallich said and looked meaningfully toward the far end of the chamber.

  Jaemus peered in that direction, focusing closely for the first time, and realized a raised platform of stone sat there. A body lay supine atop it. “Is that Aldinhuus?” he asked.

  The three Knights nodded. “Yes,” Mallich confirmed. “And he has not yet awoken. Nor has the Vigil Star.”

  Jaemus watched a dark look pass among the three Knights. “Has anyone given him a shake?” he asked.

  Stave chirruped out a laugh that sounded a bit like a Glisternaut ship’s engine backfiring. But the mood was instantly snuffed when Jaemus artlessly blurted the next thought to cross his mind. “And where is Knight Evernal?” At the way their faces fell, he knew. “She’s . . . gone?”

  Safran answered using the Fenestros, “Gone, yes. We don’t know if she’s rejoined the Great Cosmos or not, however. Until Vaka Aster graces us, we can’t say.”

  Silence fell over them, each thinking their own thoughts. For his part, Jaemus couldn’t help but wonder at the meaning of Evernal’s disappearance. She’d been awake, aware, and completely alive the moment before his act of heroism. So why wasn’t she here with the rest of them?

  With no answer available, his thoughts moved on to the idea that he had for some reason been converted into a super Himmingazian who could easily walk off a stab wound the size of a soup bowl. When was I . . . “chosen”? Was it when I knocked Aldinhuus out, and Vaka Aster got into my head? Did the Verity zap me with her sprite spark then? He wondered if he’d ever know what had truly happened, or why he’d been given a so-called gift he’d never really asked for. Finally, he said, “So, what now?”

  Mallich answered. “We don’t know if Balavad has been defeated, and we don’t know what kind of circumstances have befallen Ulfric and Vaka Aster. So, we’re going to wait until the last of the Ivoryssians has returned home, then rebuild the interrealm portal and go back to Vigil Tower. If fortune finds us, Ulfric will be conscious by then.”

  “ . . . And if he isn’t?”

  One by one, they looked at him, but it was Safran who spoke. “Then we will mourn our lost sister and celebrate our new brother. You were ordained under . . . unusual circumstances, Jaemus Bardgrim, but we welcome you among us. You’re one of us now. A Knight Corporealis.”

  Chapter 54

  A little sloth sleeps on a rock and dreams of ants and berries,

  A girl runs up and pets his ruff and slips the sloth some cherries . . .

  Ulfric heard Isemay’s voice from far off, echoing inside a starscape as vast as the ache in his heart. He was remembering her singing that little tune to herself when she’d been very young, her child’s voice so sweet and silly. If he was dying now—and he hoped he was—he was content that her voice would be the last thing he would hear. Why would he want to go on if Symvalline and Isemay were gone?

  But that wasn’t the truth. Was it? He’d just seen Isemay, heard her speaking through the memory keeper he’d given her. Before Vaka Aster had taken over his mind, his body. Before his maker had told him she could not set him free. Before he’d escaped into the void, trying to remember to forget. Because nothing his maker told him was the truth.

  Was it?

  How long had he been in this black? The tomb of exile?

  They are in danger.

  Her voice, Vaka Aster, crashing through the shield of grief he’d erected as if it were made of paper. He pushed back, tried to ignore her and her accursed presence. He felt her here with him, and he bent his full will on keeping her away. He would not tolerate her deceptions any longer. Better to remain untouched, uncorrupted, within the bitter pool of sorrow he had fled to.

  If you do not come back, one way or another, you will be the doom of Vinnr.

  Come back? To what? More death. No hope. He couldn’t face endless eternity any longer. Wouldn’t. Not without his beloved heart-match and child. He hated Vaka Aster for expecting this of him. Hated and reviled her and all she’d done to ruin his life, his happiness.

  Return to yourself, Ulfric, and unmake the cage you’ve bound us both in. You must find a way to set us free. Look in Balavad’s Scrylle, it will show you the way. Only then can you seek your family in Arc Rheunos, the realm of my quin Mithlí.

  She was taking it too far, his maker. The unchecked duplicity, the taunts.

  His silence broke: I’m finished with your deceptions, Vaka Aster. I am not the fool you must think. Balavad’s Scrylle is unreachable.

  No, Stallari Aldinhuus, it is here, in Vinnr, where you are.

  That was interesting. Had Balavad been defeated? Was it true they were back in Vinnr? If I am in Vinnr, why is my family in Arc Rheunos? Bring them back to me, Vaka Aster, or let me go after them, and I might believe you.

  It cannot be done. It is too dangerous to travel the starpaths in this form. Endanger yourself and you endanger my realm.

  Vacantly, he realized he’d been drawn into a debate with Vaka Aster once again, despite his unwillingness to do so, but he brushed this fact aside. Why, he asked, did you send them there in the first place?

  The starpath opened to all the realms when you tied yourself into this knot we now occupy. At the moment I was caught between vessels, I became aware of Knight Lutair on the mountainside with the Raveners of Battgjald drawing near. When I took them into the starpath, it was only chance that sent you to Himmingaze and them to Arc Rheunos.

  He remembered the moment clearly. Balavad had tortured him with the vision of Symvalline holding an avalanche at bay with her klinkí stones while she and his Crumb crouched beneath and a group of Battgjaldian warriors approached. He’d been so certain their deaths were imminent and had done the one thing he could think of: he’d pleaded with Vaka Aster to spare them and, hoping to release Vaka Aster, had thrown himself into the halo of circling Fenestrii that composed the Verity cage Balavad had tricked him into creating. And now he understood fully. He’d freed his maker from one cage, but by his will or fear or some wystic strength he hadn’t known he possessed, he’d turned himself into the prison that now shackled them both.

  Why did you do this to me? he thought, and wasn’t sure whom he was asking—himself or his maker.

  You are the strongest of my creations.

  Once more, grief settled into the silence that drew out like eternity’s river, and he pulled the veil of blackness between him and Vaka Aster to shut her out of his thoughts completely. Yet one statement she’d made tickled his mind. And soon it ca
me to him.

  You drew Sym and Isemay into the starpath? You intervened on their behalf? It was known, or assumed, the Verities did not interfere with the lives of their creations beyond what was necessary to keep their realms stable—if they chose to. If Vaka Aster had saved Symvalline and Isemay from the Raveners, she’d defied her own rules.

  She did not respond to his questions, and the silence drew out. He tore the veil between them aside, demanding an answer. Why?

  Finally, it came, but the answer did not satisfy him. It is enough that I have. You are among the Knights again, she went on. They protect you, protect us. Balavad’s Scrylle is the way to remedy this. You can be free. But you have to awaken from your despair. Your greatest power is hope. Use it and save everything you love.

  These words jolted him, triggered a memory. When he and Symvalline had first started discussing leaving the Order after Isemay had been born, she had said almost the same thing. “Ulfric, the most precious gift we have isn’t our long lives, it is our love. Vaka Aster will release us from our oaths when we show her what our daughter means to us.”

  He’d responded, “Vaka Aster is not a being guided by reason. There is no way of knowing what she’ll do if we ask for this.”

  She’d twined her hand into his and smiled in a way that always disarmed him, teasing, “Old man, your overlong dedication to your duty has made you forget freedom and having hopes for your own sake. It’s understandable. But don’t worry, my love, I remember, and I will hope for both of us. Our maker will release us. Trust me.”

  But now it was up to him to release their maker, wasn’t it? Which meant, in a strange twist of fates, that it had become his choice whether he would see Symvalline and Isemay again.

  I will do it, Vaka Aster. But you must swear to me you will not interfere. Once I return to my waking self, stay out of my way. No one but I will be master of my own will. He almost couldn’t believe his own boldness, even insolence, to be making demands of a celestial being. But he had grown so tired of being a pawn. If Vaka Aster wanted freedom, then he would have it too. He would agree to nothing that didn’t ensure his will would finally be truly, entirely his own.

  Her response came without hesitation. I leave your fate, and Vinnr’s, in your hands, Stallari Aldinhuus.

  Ulfric opened his eyes.

  Chapter 55

  The ancient citadels and minarets of Dyrrakium, even the humblest of them composed of red stone and decorated with the flashing iron-like puurite stone, blossomed in the haze of the arid coastal plain beneath Eisa’s dragørfly scout like the flowers in a half-remembered dream. It had been hundreds of turns since she’d been back to her homeland, since the Cataclysm in fact, but far fewer since she’d last spoken with Domine Ecclesium Nazaria, ruler of the empire and head of the Eternal Sect of the Divine Verity.

  As she targeted the flat courtyard inside the Ecclesium’s palace for landing, her eyes brushed over the blade lying beside her on her pilot seat. The length of a hatchet, it was too big to be considered simply a dagger, and though it was ceremonial, it was no less deadly. It had been given to her by the long-dead Domine Ecclesium over a thousand turns ago when she’d passed her Fifth and final Phase of the Lœdyrrak, a test for all half-agers in her home kingdom to gauge their worthiness and strength along their path to citizenry. “Lœdyrrak” meaning “flourishing land” no longer existed. The name of her home had been changed to Dyrrakium, “exiled land,” or simply “exile,” after the Cataclysm.

  Many things had changed after the Cataclysm, so named for the events that had brought the kingdoms of Ivoryss and Yor to the brink of war against Dyrrakium. The empire had tried to usurp the Yor throne—or so commoners believed—and, failing that, Dyrrakium had closed their borders against all other kingdoms. But that was another story, and not quite the truth.

  The Cataclysm had brought about many changes. For Eisa, they had been more personal, the losses sharper, most particularly the loss of her lover, Lillias, which in turn had nearly caused her the loss of her faith. To save them, she’d had to make sacrifices. And she’d made them willingly. Now, none but her own people, the Dyrraks, knew the truths buried at the heart of the Cataclysm. Not even the Knights knew the things she’d done.

  One of those hidden truths adorned her Dyrrak dagger. The Stallari wasn’t the only Knight who could glean secrets and spin wystic contraptions from the Scrylle. The weapon bore the distinct curve and greenish metal blade common to Dyrrakium. The haft, however, was singular. A broken, rough chunk of stone, about the size of a child’s fist, served as the pommel nut. Only the top of the stone was polished, a half orb suggesting it may once have been part of a complete sphere—as it had been. The haft of this specific blade seemed a fitting setting for the stone, after what she’d used it on—or rather, whom. As for the stone fragment, two others existed, and when put together, the fifth Fenestrii of Lífs, Verity of Himmingaze, would again be whole. No one else but the current Domine Ecclesium—and of course, Griggory Dondrin—knew this truth.

  The two other pieces of the Fenestros were in the hands of the Domine himself and the Speaker, who provided a conduit for the celestial power within the stone. The Speaker had once been a noblewoman of Yor, and she had not chosen her role. It had been forced on her. What would it be like to see her again? Eisa wondered. After so long.

  With a sharp self-rebuke, she pulled her eyes away from the stone. Thinking of Lillias, the woman she’d loved and who had betrayed her, was an unacceptable distraction. Has being away from the Dyrrak for so long made you soft, Eisa?

  As she landed the scout in the Citadel Suprima’s courtyard, a consort of servitors wearing short tunics and sandals and the Domine Ecclesium were already waiting for her. They’d been expecting her. The fragment of Verity stone atop her dagger, which she’d used to notify the Ecclesium of her coming, had finally served the critical purpose she’d always known it would: Dyrrakium had needed to be warned of the usurping Verity’s plans to give them time to prepare. The Knights may think her a traitor, but it wasn’t true. No one had more faith in their maker than Eisa Nazaria. And no one had a better-trained army than the Dyrrak.

  The fledgling Dyrrak warriors, bearing Fourth Phase rune badges, cut and healed into blackened scars on their chests and arms, stood in a circle with their heads bowed as the Domine Ecclesium approached the scout. As she disembarked from the scout, the crunch of red sand beneath her boots, a feeling as familiar and welcome to her as breathing, made her almost smile. But she didn’t.

  Ecclesium Nazaria stepped forward, crossed his arms over his chest, and bowed deeply.

  “Domine Ecclesium,” she said, “how keeps your faith?”

  Straightening, he responded, “Eternal, unchanged, and pure, Nazarian Most High.”

  Nazarian Most High. It has been a long time since I’ve heard that title. She noted the resemblance between this leader and herself, the same clear gray eyes, pitch-black hair, and red-umber skin. As her descendent—her nephew, twelve generations removed—none was more fitted to lead both the Nazaria Line and the empire, for their family had taken over rule of Dyrrakium when Vaka Aster chose a Nazaria as her last vessel, over two thousand turns ago.

  In that ancient age when all the kingdoms were still united as one, Vigil Tower was built on the mainland and taken as residence by Vaka Aster. In the years that followed, after the War of Rivening and Lœdyrrak’s creation, Eisa had joined the Knights at the age of thirty-six turns instead of ascending as the next Domine Ecclesium. Her duty then had been easier, despite it meaning living her life among the lesser kingdoms as a Knight Corporealis.

  The faith of the Dyrrakium people was stronger even than the Knight Order, and it would stand against the greatest challenges facing their Verity after the Knights fell. Second to serving Vaka Aster, Eisa’s other purpose had always been to ensure the Dyrraks would be prepared when that day came. As it had now.

  “It is good,” she said. “As I told you, I’ve come on urgent business. Another Verit
y has broken faith with its kind and is spreading its dominion throughout Vinnr. Yor and Ivoryss have already fallen.”

  “It is worse than we expected,” the Dyrrak leader said.

  Ah, this was good. If the Domine Ecclesium was aware of the outside world, it meant the Dyrraks were still maintaining spies in the lesser kingdoms. “What do you know?”

  The Ecclesium beckoned to a nearby servitor, who came forward with a tray of fruit and a firkin of fermented syke liquor, a favorite Dyrrak drink. Eisa’s mouth watered in anticipation of the bittersweet taste of her homeland, and the way it scoured the throat and mind.

  “We have found foreign spies crawling through Dyrrakium,” the Ecclesium said. “And have learned their purpose, then cleansed them like the vermin they were.”

  “It is good,” she said again, approving. Strength was one of the Dyrraks’ Six Aspects of Devotion to the Verities. If a person dared pit themselves against the Dyrraks, they would be pushed, mercilessly, to the edge of their own. “You must prepare yourselves,” she went on. “Vinnr has reached a new age, and the Dyrraks may be the only people left by the time this Verity’s plundering is stanched. The armies of Dyrrakium have had enough time to prepare. Send them in full force to Ivoryss, for that is where the battle is now.”

  “And you, Nazarian?”

  “I believe I may know how to stop the desecrator, but I must travel the stars to learn more. I will leave you this.” She retrieved a map from a pouch and handed it to him. “Keep it safe. Should you need to parlay with the Knights, this will let them know I’ve sent you.”

  The Ecclesium took the map, and Eisa enumerated the details of Balavad’s forces and strategies.

  When she finished, the Dyrrak leader asked, “And would you like to see the Speaker before you go?”