by Jamie Foley
His voice hadn’t sounded like that before. Deep and ravenous.
Vylia shrank back but he held her gently. Wiped away her tears.
She’d just wanted to go on a simple diplomatic mission. To help end the hostilities. To make her father proud.
She should never have left the palace.
Sousuke shifted in front of her. His green eyes bored into hers. “I’m taking charge now.”
Vylia blinked up at him. He’d always taken orders from her. “What?”
The door creaked open behind Sousuke, and a new voice spoke in hushed tones. Vylia looked to Kira for translation.
“The Hall has been breached,” Kira translated, her eyes wide. “They’re going to extract us to a safer place.”
Fear knifed into Vylia’s stomach. Hadn’t Brooke said the Great Hall was the most secure location in Jadenvive?
Sousuke grabbed her hand as the group filed out of the room and down the hall. His other hand held his sword.
The world began to tilt, then slowly spin. She wasn’t prepared for this. Even if her body felt stronger, she wasn’t ready.
She wanted to ask where they were going but decided to save her breath and focus on her steps. Through a locked door. Along a dark passageway. Down a stairway with steep steps. Wooden stairs that seemed carved from the walls themselves—lines in the wood flowed down from one wall, through two or three stairs diagonally, then up the opposite wall.
It spiraled down in a barely perceptible arc. And seemed to never end.
Sweat permeated Vylia’s gown and dripped into her eye. She gasped for breath. “I . . . I need—”
Sousuke sheathed his sword, picked her up, and carefully continued the descent.
She clung to his shoulders and rested her head on his breastplate. How could he have so much strength when they’d gone through the same ordeal? He’d also taken Aoko’s sword to the shoulder. Nariellyn must have healed it with her magic somehow. Still, Vylia made note of his bandage and avoided it.
Fifty steps? Seventy-five? She lost count. It grew colder the further down they went.
Her breath wouldn’t return. Sousuke began to pant. Vylia tried to put her feet on the ground, but he held her tight.
The azure masks ahead suddenly stopped as the stairway brightened. They muttered something in Phoeran that Vylia didn’t understand, but she didn’t need to comprehend their language to know it wasn’t good.
“Let me down,” Vylia said. “I can walk now.”
Sousuke acquiesced after a moment’s hesitation. He set her down and drew his sword carefully in the tight quarters. “Stay close.”
Vylia found Kira behind her. A worried expression hung from her dark face, but her blue eyes sparked in the luminescence of mushrooms hanging from planters embedded into the walls. The air hung thick with humidity.
“What are they saying?” Vylia whispered.
“Ryon has a safe place for us,” Kira translated. “The masks are going to make us invisible and silent while we run. You won’t be able to see or hear anything—covering a group takes a lot of concentration, so they’ll only be able to focus on allowing their own eyes and ears to be exempt from the magic. So we’re going to have to hang on and trust them as we follow, okay?”
The proposition sounded terrifying to Vylia, but she nodded.
“Stay behind me.” Sousuke took her hand as the world snapped into darkness.
Vylia gasped but couldn’t hear it. She brought her hand up but couldn’t see it. She touched her cracked lips just to ensure her fingers were still there.
Sousuke tugged at her, and she rushed forward while clinging to him with the little strength she had left. The earth was a void, but somehow it still existed beneath her feet. The floor gave way to something softer. Soil, perhaps?
The combination of terror and helplessness was beyond what she’d ever felt. She called for the Malo element in a plea for some form of security, but her senses didn’t even tingle with recognition of the power in her blood.
Vylia cursed Lillian’s stone in its embroidered pouch. She’d been in training to become a wavesinger from childhood, but not even water answered her call for aid any longer.
Sound suddenly burst back to her ears as someone jerked her aside—Sousuke? She stumbled into whoever it was as the sound of a grunt and the clash of metal split the air. A sword fight? She still couldn’t see!
A strong grip on her wrist pulled faster than Vylia could run. She fell and bit down on a cry. Her knees sank into something cool and wet.
Strong arms lifted her, and she recognized Sousuke by the musky scent of his armor polish. She jostled in his grasp as he ran.
She gripped his armor until her fingers clenched up. A tear slipped down her cheek. Gods spare us!
Light blinded her as her vision blared back into focus. She squinted as the sounds of battle clashed behind her. She craned her neck to look past Sousuke’s arm as he dashed to follow Tekkyn’ashi and Ryon. Kira followed behind, wielding a strange blue blade that looked more like some kind of animal’s stinger than a knife.
Two azure masks fought a crowd of soldiers in gleaming armor. Flashing swords. Clashing shields. Cerulean tabards. The white lotus smeared with mud and splattered with scarlet.
Vylia’s bones chilled at the sight, rendering her stiff and frigid from the inside out.
They were running away from them. Her own people. The symbol that had always represented security now pined for her blood.
Sousuke took a sharp left and slammed into the bark of the great tree. His panting sounded shallow, desperate. Vylia pushed away from him again, and this time he didn’t resist as she took her own feet.
Tekkyn’ashi gave quick orders, and Ryon translated: “You’re all Malo by blood. Sousuke will say he’s escorting Malaano citizens to safety. I’ll stay hidden. Follow my footsteps.” He vanished from sight before he’d finished speaking.
Vylia tried to slow her breathing and maintain her balance as footsteps squished in the mud before them. Sousuke once again drew his sword and brandished it in his right hand while reaching back for Vylia with his left. They lurched forward, following Ryon’s trail as Kira took the rear.
Platoons of soldiers swarmed Jadenvive’s underbelly and choked the elevators. Vylia stole a glance at the main road leading to a massive gate that stood open. Twin catapults stood taller than the far walls. How had they managed to slip such machines and such a force through the forest undetected?
One soldier eyed them. Then another. She lost count. But they never spared more than a glance before continuing toward the elevators, or to a skirmish in the pepper field, or to a barn being stuffed with terrified civilians and crying children.
Vylia’s tears swelled and blurred her vision as she staggered forward.
Sousuke released his grip. “I’m sorry, I—”
“It’s okay,” Vylia whispered.
“Here,” Kira said.
Vylia wiped her eyes as Tekkyn’ashi and Sousuke stood on either side of a hole beneath a giant birch’s root. Kira ducked inside, and Vylia followed.
Ryon reappeared in the root tunnel before them, knife bared. He quickly sheathed it as a silver-haired woman ran to him and hugged him tight. They exchanged hushed words in Phoeran, then the woman waved them hurriedly down the tunnel. Ryon rushed back to the entrance with a spyglass in-hand. He passed by them and vanished out the way they’d just come.
“Don’t stop,” Tekkyn’ashi said as he jogged forward to follow the woman, his sword still drawn. “This grows into an extensive cave network. We’ll be safer further in.”
Sousuke nodded at Vylia, then followed with his own weapon, daring anything else to enter.
“What’s Ryon doing?” Vylia asked.
“He was a scout before he was the advisor. He’ll be okay,” Kira said, though her face was at least one shade lighter.
The path through the caverns never seemed to end. Vylia was certain she’d meet her death if she lost her way without a guide
, both from exhaustion and delirium. Her body had never before felt so weak. Her knees threatened to give out at any moment, as did her frantic heart.
From a palace to a treetop suite to a dreary cave. From her own troop of bodyguards to foreign strangers she didn’t know. From the darling of her people to a sacrificial pawn.
She stumbled and Kira caught her.
“Whoa, it’s okay.” Kira offered a faint smile. “I know it must be hard but you’re doing great. You can rest soon.”
Vylia did her best to return the smile as Sousuke thanked Kira. “This place is beautiful,” she said, trying desperately to focus on anything else. The same glowing mushrooms from the spiral staircase lined the cave walls in droves, creating flowing lines of aquamarine light.
Sousuke stumbled and caught himself on one knee.
“Are you injured?” Vylia rushed to him but he waved her away.
“Fine. Just . . . tripped,” he panted.
An obvious lie. The bandage on his shoulder was stained red, and the sweat that soaked the cloth between his armor plates was too profuse for the chilly underground air. But Vylia knew he’d say the same thing if his leg had been bitten off if it would make her feel safe.
“Let’s rest here,” Tekkyn’ashi said, but the silver-haired woman said something in Phoeran and beckoned him around a bend.
The cavern opened up into a large space with a clear stream whose waters reflected the phosphorescence of countless mushrooms. Several children splashed in the water with shrieks of delight, apparently oblivious to the horrors above.
Two of the little ones ran to Tekkyn’ashi and hugged him tight, drenching his clothes. He sheathed his sword with great care and hugged them back.
Vylia stared in disbelief as Kira spoke with another tribal woman, then turned back to her with relief lifting her features. “These are Ryon’s mother and sister. They care for these orphans, and they all got here to safety with some supplies.” She gestured to a bedroll that the older woman laid out on a smooth patch of stone opposite from the stream. “I told her you two are recovering from comas. You can rest here.”
“Thank you.” Vylia’s voice came out like a squeak. She motioned for Sousuke to lay down first, but he just stared at her until she did so instead.
Her body ached as she lay down on the soft leathers, and Ryon’s mother laid a soft quilt over her with a broad smile. “Gwyneth,” she enunciated as she tapped her chest.
“Thank you, Gwyneth,” Vylia said, hoping she’d understand. “I am Prin. . .” She trailed off. “Vylia.”
Gwyneth nodded and retreated, shushing the children and speaking with Kira in hushed tones.
Sousuke stretched out beside Vylia on his own bedroll, and it wasn’t long before his breathing evened out. Vylia willed her numbed mind to calm as her body relaxed. Her thoughts swirled but didn’t go anywhere, like a stormcloud that threatened with thunder but never rained.
She felt herself slipping into sleep as Ryon returned with a grim expression. He spoke softly to Kira and hugged her tight.
Vylia waved Kira over and whispered, “What did he see?”
Kira appeared to be on the verge of tears. “The Great Hall is lost,” she murmured. “The empire now controls Jadenvive.”
Brooke spun and slashed her spear down, then pulled back before the bone tip could slam into the ground. She twisted and stabbed the cool morning air behind her, finishing the kata with a controlled exhale.
Her footprints in the dew marked her path through the lazy grass of the clearing she’d chosen for practice. The footwork wasn’t bad, but not being able to make any noise threw off her regular pattern. And it wasn’t nearly as fun without being able to hit anything.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, inhaling the pure scents of the forest. Being physically removed from so many of her problems gave her a relief that she felt guilty about. Just because she wasn’t near the source of her issues didn’t mean they didn’t exist. But not being able to do anything about it was freeing, somehow. For now.
Brooke opened her eyes and decided to practice a different technique for another round. Her party should begin to wake soon, and she had no desire to end this moment of peace any faster than she needed to.
“Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
Brooke spun and thrust her spear in the direction of the voice. Lysander leaned against a distant tree, raising his hands innocently.
She swallowed and lowered her weapon. You’re an early riser, she thought to him. She glanced in the direction of the sun. It was just beginning to peek through the trees, tickling the bottoms of scattered clouds with swaths of orange and pink.
Lysander crossed his arms over his dark leather armor. “I thought everyone agreed that you weren’t going to take a watch.”
Brooke turned to begin her next kata, spreading her feet into a ready stance. I let Nari sleep.
“Does she know that?”
Brooke harrumphed and thrust her spear forward. She didn’t answer.
Lysander didn’t say anything, either.
She focused on the motions, trying to ignore his presence. Spin, sweep, slash. Left, forward, duck, right, backward, stab.
Brooke glanced at Lysander as she finished. He just stood there, watching.
You’re kinda creepy, you know that? she thought to him.
His brow furrowed. “Sorry. I didn’t sense that you felt nervous or uncomfortable.”
Brooke cursed under her breath and called for aether to protect her mind. Spying on my thoughts is even more creepy.
“Isn’t that your favorite pastime?” he said.
Brooke pursed her lips and thumped the end of her spear into the ground. Can I help you with something?
“You’ve already done that.”
Her pulse thudded harder than it had from the kata. She grasped for something to say that wouldn’t directly order him away. She was on a break from ordering people around.
Lysander pushed off from the tree and flexed his hands, testing the fingerless elementalist gloves he must have requisitioned from the quartermaster. “I can remove the sound if you want to practice properly. Pulling your strikes isn’t healthy.”
Brooke opened her mouth to decline but paused. That would be really nice, actually. And it was kind of him to offer—sound manipulation was a high-level Phoeran art far beyond her ability. Perhaps it wasn’t so difficult for a royal silverblood like him. His maroon eyes seemed to glow softly in the fading darkness as dawn crept closer. He must have held a great amount of syn.
She cleared her throat and stood straighter. All right.
He nodded.
Brooke assumed her ready stance and began again, this time with her favorite drill. She glanced in the direction of their camp and hesitantly struck the earth with her spear.
It made no sound.
She stepped awkwardly as her footfalls were deathly silent. Her breathing muted, and the chirping of distant insects fell quiet. She spun and slammed her weapon on the ground again. The grass quivered, dew scattered in every direction, and the sensation of the impact travelled through her boots, but not so much as a whisper reached her ears.
So strange. And yet instead of feeling fear as she thought she should, overwhelming calm flooded her as she flowed through the movements. No hustle and bustle of the city. No voices demanding or accusing or whispering their own manipulations. No thoughts of her own anxiety plaguing her like a flock of birds constantly diving to peck at her flesh.
Just her and her weapon.
Brooke controlled her breathing as she whirled and struck. As blissful as the silence was, she couldn’t imagine being trapped in it forever. Was this what Lysander experienced every day, never able to escape?
She finished the kata and couldn’t stop a smile. Thank you, she thought to him.
He smirked. “Any time.”
Brooke relished the chill of the morning breeze on her skin as she started toward their campsite. The recent rains must have br
oken the last of the summer heat. Harvest season was already here. She wondered how many of Jadenvive’s burned fields would be salvageable, then tried to shove the thought away. Worrying about it wouldn’t do any good.
“Why Darkwood?”
Brooke stopped and looked back over her shoulder. What?
Lysander stared down at the vials that slung from his shoulder to his waist in a bandoleer. “It appears that an alliance with Emberhawk would be more beneficial to the Katrosi than Darkwood.”
She turned back and tilted her head. Both are important if any of us are to survive a Malaano incursion. Why?
“I don’t have to use thought-magic to tell that you hate him.”
Brooke balked at Lysander. Was he serious? Could he possibly be jealous?
What are you implying?
“Just that you could consider other options. You don’t hate me any more, do you?” Lysander looked up at her with those dark eyes. “We both know how we feel, so it would be childish not to address it.”
Brooke’s throat clenched until she was out of breath again. She strove to remember her father’s training. Show no emotion—give the opposition nothing to take advantage of.
We also both know that political alliances are not made based on feelings.
Lysander nodded. “But if you have the choice, why wouldn’t you?”
The choice has already been made. The color of Brooke’s knuckles lightened from her grip on her spear. She focused and willed her body to relax. It seems you’re not on friendly terms with Illiana, so your marriage might not have any political benefit, anyway.
“Of course I’m friendly with my sister! And I’m still the firstborn son of King Brynn. You know that carries weight regardless of who’s on the throne.”
Brooke pursed her lips. I asked the queen for your hand months ago, but you were too busy doing her dirty work.
Lysander flinched. “I . . .” He seemed to notice something, or perhaps a new thought occurred to him. His voice wavered. “Zamara is dead. Things are different now.”
Yes, they are. My city lies in ashes and my people would revolt if I married one of the arsonists. Brooke turned and stomped toward camp without waiting for his response.