The High Lord turned away. “So what do you want? You ask for mercy for your son? Is that it?”
“That’s not what I’m looking for,” Halcone replied. “Perhaps you’ll see what Zedane did differently when you think of Kae’s early death as inevitable, however, even I’m not sure he deserves mercy. What I want is the possibility of a dignified and long life for notans.”
“How?”
Zedane knees hurt and his shoulders swayed with exhaustion, but he didn’t dare rise. He wasn’t sure what his father was asking for. Notans would always be subjugated before those with magic. Just as sentient beings were above animals, those with power were above those without. It was the way of the world.
“We two are the most powerful people in the land,” Halcone said. “If both of us tried to ensure that those without power were punished for hurting or enslaving notans, we could make a difference.”
Zedane looked up. “Those who rule the Crystal Towers would never agree.”
Both Halcone and the High Lord turned toward Zedane, and he lowered his eyes, regretting having spoken.
“It’s true,” the High Lord said. “I have little influence there. And they produce a new crop of nobility like your son each year.”
Halcone nodded. “Since Kae joined me, I have thought much on the subject. Even if a few of us enforced our will on others for a while, when we passed on things would go back to the way they were. Those with power will reign over those without. It’s human nature. I have thought of a way though.”
“Go on,” the High Lord said.
“If we cannot live with notans in harmony, then we must be separated from them. Beyond the western mountains, there is a sparsely populated region. I was thinking that could be set aside for notans.”
“Sparsely populated because the dragons keep it for themselves,” the High Lord said.
“The dragons have other territory. But, of course, they would have to agree. And we would have to form a barrier that none could cross. It would only take a few powerful magic users to ruin the concept.”
“What kind of barrier?”
“The kind of barrier that only the most powerful shield-mage the world has ever known would be able to create.”
“You mean me.” The High Lord frowned. “A permanent shield that size. Not even I could create that.”
The two yosun spread their wings. They rose slowly into the air without flapping, magic rather than air supporting their weight. Their under-feathers, splashed with bright reds and yellows, stood out prominently.
The barrier is possible, came the thought. We will help.
Zedane stared in shock. He had never known yosun to show initiative like that. And though each one spoke for their whole race, he had never known any to use the pronoun “we”.
Halcone’s and the High Lord’s shocked faces mirrored Zedane’s.
“If the yosun says something is possible, then that means it is,” the High Lord said thoughtfully.
“Why would you help?” Halcone asked the yosun.
The two yosun turned to look to each other before facing forward again. It is something good.
Something good. The words echoed in Zedane’s mind and a shiver ran down his spine. He’d thought the yosun couldn’t understand the concept of good or bad.
The two yosun descended and tucked their wings behind them, standing expressionless once more on either side of the throne as if they hadn’t made any intervention.
“Even if possible, it would take the rest of my life and all of my energy to achieve something like that,” the High Lord said.
“You have to ask yourself how much you loved Kae,” Halcone said. “Did you love her enough to get your satisfaction by killing this boy here? Or did you love her enough to dedicate your life to achieving something great in her name.”
The High Lord scowled at Halcone. “Do not try to manipulate me. As for the boy...” He walked to stand in front of Zedane. “Regardless of this barrier, he must be dealt with.” He squatted down, grabbed Zedane’s chin and raised it. “Look at me. What do you have to say?”
Zedane kept his eyes aimed below the High Lord’s face. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry that she turned out to be my daughter?” the High Lord demanded.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to know Kae. I’ve since learned what a loss that was. I’m sorry that the Crystal Towers changed me into a person who would do such a thing.”
The High Lord shoved Zedane’s chin away, forcing his face to the side. “You still blame others. It was your hand that killed her.”
Zedane found a spark of spirit and finally looked the High Lord in the eyes. “I am the person I was born. I am also the person I was made.”
“It’s true,” Halcone said. “It’s his fault, but not just his fault.”
“What sentence do you deserve?” the High Lord asked.
Zedane’s head fell to his chest. He remembered Kae’s fierce gaze as she’d first defied him on top of the tower. And the memory the dragon had given him of a little girl who’d been unafraid even of a dragon. He felt sure that the sight of her falling away from him, her cloak billowing out would be his last memory. “To die,” he muttered.
“What was that?” the High Lord asked.
“Death. I deserve death for what I did.”
Chapter 7
Zedane closed his eyes and waited for a killing blow, but it never came. Instead the High Lord shoved Zedane backward and made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. Zedane opened his eyes again.
“I came here to give you that death you deserve, but Halcone’s got in my head about it being everyone’s bloody fault. I can’t kill everyone who had a hand in it. Maybe...” The High Lord turned toward Halcone. “Is there a way to seal the ketac so it can never be opened?”
Halcone glanced at the yosun on his right, who inclined her head, then moved across and touched the ketac.
This will never be opened while he lives, she thought.
Zedane shivered. Yosun could see the future so if one made such a declaration, it meant he had become a notan for life.
The High Lord gave a sharp nod, then turned and walked away.
“Grell, old friend, about the barrier?” Halcone called after him.
“I will discuss the idea with the dragons,” the High Lord said, and he was gone.
“Stand, son,” Halcone said to Zedane.
Zedane put one hand on the ground and pushed himself onto one foot, then straightened. His knees creaked and he felt like an old man.
“What do you think of your sentence?”
Zedane remembered all the humiliations he faced while at the Crystal Towers. That had been when he’d had his magic ability. To live his life as a notan. “Death would be easier. Maybe be better.” He’d been raised as a prince, wanting for nothing; he didn’t know how he would survive as a notan.
“It will be difficult,” Halcone agreed. “Come here.” Zedane stumbled forward. As pain flared up throughout his body, he almost cried out. Halcone stood, wrapped his arms around Zedane, and held him close.
Zedane allowed his legs to slump and Halcone supported him. He felt a release and sobs exploded out of him. He wasn’t sure whether he was crying over the past, the present or the future. All three, probably. When the violence of his initial sobs reduced to a soft weeping, Halcone took him by the shoulders and held him away from him. “Dry your eyes, son.”
Zedane ran his sleeve across his face. As he did so, the back of his hand touched the ketac, and he fingered the dark green crystals. “So this will never come off?”
Halcone shook his head. “You will have to learn to live with it. In addition,” Halcone reached up to touch Zedane’s face, “I also have to sentence you. In killing the High Lord’s daughter, you broke our laws.”
“They were new laws,” Zedane protested. “I never knew about them.”
“Nevertheless. I have never held myself or my family above the law,” Halcone said. “I de
clare you exiled from the lands ruled from the Desert Palace and strip you of the Florassiv name, titles and properties.”
Zedane’s mouth opened in shock. “No.” He had imagined being a notan in the Desert Palace where people knew who he was. If he was banished to other parts of the world... “Please don’t. I won’t be able to bear—”
“You still have a chance to make something of your life. That is more than Kae had.”
That was true, but Zedane had to try one more time. “I am your son. Does that mean nothing?”
“Unfortunately for both you and Kae, blood means little in our world. Magical ability means everything.”
THE END
* * *
The Silver Portal: Five misfit youths stand between a dark ruler and total domination.
Check out The Silver Portal on Amazon, or turn the page to read the first five chapters of the series proper.
The Silver Portal – Chapter 1
If I didn’t have to eat, I’d find somewhere to hide and never leave, Twig thought. A hole somewhere warm and dry. Getting fed used to be her only worry. That was true until Krawl came along. With him to worry about, she had to be even more cautious, and she was hungry even more often.
Twig was on the bottom of the food chain, a mouse who hid, watched, and waited for opportunity.
Even when clouds blocked the moon and stars, nights were never truly dark in Blackstone. A distant window or lantern always created some light—enough for a nocturnal creature like Twig to get by on, at least.
She pulled her tattered clothes tighter around her. They were drenched through and did nothing to keep her dry. Her occasional shivers kept the cold from seeping into her bones, but it was nothing she wasn’t used to. The cold and the wet were easy to deal with compared to the gnawing in her stomach.
She was perched on a wall, two paces off the ground. Several bricks were missing, one of which she’d removed herself, and she’d crammed herself into the small space. She hid where others could not. No one would see her even if they thought to look. Across the way and farther down the alleyway was her target, the back of a restaurant.
The rain people, they were called, those who lived on the streets of Blackstone. They were called many other names too, some of which doubled as curse words. But Twig liked the name rain people best because nobody knew the rain better than those who had no homes. And rain was the one thing that Blackstone had more than anything else.
At that exact moment, rain wasn’t falling, but it had earlier, a late-spring drizzle consisting of fast and light drops, colder than normal for the time of year, coming in from the southern seas. She knew the rain of Blackstone as she knew the beating of her own heart. The city had more types of rain than it did homeless people, but each season had a signature rain.
In the spring, it could float in from the sea like a falling mist. Twig would stick out her tongue and taste the coolness of it. And that wasn’t even her favorite type of rain. In late summer, after a dry spell, the rain fell straight down in large drops, sucking the humidity from the air and washing the city clean. Afterward, she could imagine the world made anew, a lovely and more sparkling version of itself. Of course, the nice emotions those thoughts generated didn’t last. Good feelings never did.
The autumn storms were the worst. They came with Twig still unaccustomed to the cold, and the howling winds hurled ashore raindrops mixed with ice pellets. Life and hardship were one and the same, but only during the first of the hard autumn rains did she truly feel sorry for herself. In the winter, the rain was cold and constant, bearable as long as the wind wasn’t biting too hard.
Twig scanned the alleyway again. For the rain people, a restaurant’s garbage was a prize. The light was still on inside, and nothing had been thrown out yet. Someone else could have the same idea as Twig, but so far she had seen no sign of life in the alleyway other than the rats.
She was most likely to run into Derm. He was a tall man with a scarred stump at the end of his left wrist, as well as loose skin around his neck, showing the weight he’d lost. The nearby alleyways were his territory, but since all the city was claimed by one rain person or another, Twig didn’t have much choice but to trespass on someone’s claims. Derm didn’t really scare her. He usually softened his blows when he would hit her. He did it more for show than for effect. Rain people defending their territory was part of her world.
Krawl, however, was new.
Twig wasn’t sure where he’d come from. Over the last several weeks, Krawl had declared himself a king in the land of the rain people. He demanded tribute and beat up anyone who had nothing of value to give. That was different from the slaps and kicks rain people would give each other, fighting over territory. Rain people had died under Krawl’s fists. Others had disappeared, and Twig didn’t know if they were alive or not. She had managed to stay out of his way so far, for she had nothing to give him, and she mightn’t be able to take his level of beating. She knew what she was and what she wasn’t—she wasn’t strong.
The door to the back of the restaurant opened, bags were thrown out, and the door slammed shut again. The smell of garbage wasn’t pleasant, yet Twig found herself salivating. She would find something to eat in there somewhere. She resisted the urge to charge out of her hiding place. She might have been hungry, but she was still a mouse. If another rain person claimed that garbage, she’d move on and go hungry another night. Only with no one bigger around could she scavenge for food. So she listened.
Blackstone was never silent even in the dead of night. If no one was making noise nearby, a myriad of distant sounds coalesced into a low hum that Twig could just make out over the beating of her own heart. She heard all that then, louder, the scurrying of rats. They converged on the bags, bolder than Twig was.
Only when convinced no one else was around did she climb out of her hiding place and cautiously approach. The restaurant window threw light against the far wall, so it was brighter than she would have liked. Several rats gnawed on the side of the bag with a few others close by. She kicked at them, and they fled, stopping just outside the range of her kick. Twig hissed at the rodents, but they didn’t budge. Although she was bigger than them, they didn’t fear her, sensing the heart of a mouse inside her.
Twig grabbed at the knot at the top of the first bag, twisting it, but the coldness had robbed her fingers of their dexterity. She always tried to keep her fingers and toes warm, for she knew their stiffness could lead to her death one day while climbing. But keeping warm when she was wet was difficult. She ignored the knot and widened the holes the rats had made. The bag was designed to resist the attacks of rats, but it was old, and she managed to release some of the garbage, letting it spill onto the stones of the street.
She scanned the alleyway again then dived on what she had freed, ahead of the rats. Her fingers found a half-eaten bone, and she growled low at one rat growing too bold. Saliva squirted from her mouth, and she leaned forward to bite it. Then she saw something, and the bone fell from her hand.
It glowed silver, and she moved to get a closer look. The rats scrabbled through the garbage behind her as she abandoned it. She blinked several times before accepting what her eyes were telling her. A beautiful sword lay on the ground before her.
She reached down to pick it up then paused, checking both ways. She had never been so close to something so wondrous before. How could it just be lying there? She reached down again and that time plucked up the courage to wrap her fingers around the hilt. The silver glow ran up her arm, then with a flash, the light disappeared.
The sword was lighter than air and seemed to draw light to it, gleaming silvery white. The hilt, only wide enough for a single hand, was protected by a crossguard, and the thin blade curved to a sharp point.
Twig took a practice swipe. The blade cut through the darkness in a blur of speed, and she almost fell over, unbalanced by her surprise at the motion. Twig had seen others sparring with swords, and she had even seen a street brawl where someone
had been killed, but she had never seen a blade move like that. She had never seen anything move like that.
She tried again, and that time, it was even faster. A sense of power flowed through her. Not only the sword moved lightning fast—her whole arm did. She spun, twirling the sword over her head, then stopped, breathless and dizzy but smiling. When she held the sword, her entire body could move with incredible speed. She whirled again, swiping outward with the sword. The sword clanged against a wall, and she stopped dead. The noise echoed unnaturally up and down the alleyway.
Twig melted into the closest shadow, flattening her limbs against the wall. The dark wave of motion around the garbage halted as the rats paused then quickly resumed attacking the bags. She cursed herself for forgetting who she was. What am I doing twirling around like this with a sword? A bold mouse is a doomed mouse.
Twig took long breaths and waited. Most likely, no one had been close enough to hear anything worth investigating. The sound of metal against stone could have been just a bucket overturned by a feral dog or cat. She wanted to flee, but she still needed to chase off the rats and claim some food. A sword, even a magic one, didn’t fill her belly.
Footsteps approached. Twig sucked in a sharp breath and edged away, keeping her back pushed against the wall. If it was Derm, he would fall upon the garbage and not notice her sneaking away. A large shadow entered the alleyway, followed by its master. Twig froze in place.
The rats scattered, disappearing from view. The figure ignored the garbage, walking straight past it. Only when he stopped by the light of the restaurant window was Twig able to see who it was. As she had feared, it was Krawl.
He stood there, not looking to either side. Twig willed him to walk past without finding her. And when he took a few steps forward, Twig allowed herself to feel a morsel of hope, promising herself to never be so bold again.
The Desert Palace Page 3