by Kel Kade
He said, “Hold on. Rezkin will help you. He will know what to do.”
She reached up and gripped the pendant that hung from the thin, gold chain at her throat. With a tug, it came loose. She pressed the small, gold disk into his palm.
He shook his head. “No. No—”
“You must. You … can … defeat him.”
“I can defeat who?”
She never answered. In fact, she never drew another breath. As Wesson struggled to contain his sorrow, Malcius pulled him to his feet and guided him toward the cavalcade.
Malcius said, “You nearly killed our emperor.”
Wesson looked at him blankly.
Malcius said, “After all of this? That would have been a terrible ending to our story.”
Wesson laughed through his tears, and Malcius patted him on the back.
About an hour into their journey home, Wesson pulled his horse up beside Rezkin.
“How did you do it?”
Rezkin glanced at him. “Do what?”
“How did you put fire on the sword? It is impossible, yet you did it. I need to know how.”
Rezkin’s roaming gaze never stopped, and Wesson wondered how he never exhausted of being on constant alert. Rezkin said, “I recalled a conversation I once had with Malcius and Brandt about naming swords. Brandt mentioned that he had read about spirits becoming trapped in the metal of a blade.”
“Yes, I have heard of it, but no one has ever actually seen one.”
“I knew we could not put a spell on the blade, but I thought perhaps to imbue it with a spirit—one of fire.”
“An elemental?” Wesson felt a thrill. He had never seen an elemental. Few had. “You called to an elemental, and one came?”
Rezkin said, “You saw the little flames.”
Wesson’s heart thudded with excitement as he said, “Those were elementals? There were dozens of them.”
“There were exactly two-hundred and eighty-three,” said Rezkin. “It is the number required to maintain the flame on the sword. I am not sure how I know that, but I must eventually release them.”
“How did you call nearly three hundred elementals? How did you call any?” He shifted uncomfortably under Rezkin’s icy stare.
After a prolonged silence, Rezkin turned to Farson and said, “The journeyman and I will ride ahead.”
Farson said, “That would defeat the purpose of the escort.”
“We will stay within sight. He and I need to have a discussion.”
“Then stay here and use a sound ward.”
Rezkin gave the striker a pointed look. “And risk someone reading our lips?”
Wesson watched the exchange with fascination. The dynamic between Rezkin and his former trainer, who apparently wanted to kill him, was intriguing; but, he wondered if the enmity was sincere. At times, it seemed as if Rezkin trusted the striker more than any other, and Farson rarely declined the chance to assist or offer advice. Still, Wesson felt a thread of mortal danger lay just beneath the surface of every exchange.
“I am going with you,” said Farson.
For the slightest moment, Wesson thought Rezkin looked his age, a younger man, one in need of support. It lasted no more than a breath, and then he wondered if he had seen it at all.
“Very well,” said Rezkin. “The strikers will need to know anyway.”
Wesson watched Farson’s reaction as carefully as he had Rezkin’s. Whenever Rezkin included Farson with the other strikers, a glimmer of pride shimmered in his eyes. Wesson wondered if it was because Farson had missed being a striker or because Rezkin recognized him as such.
Once they were a few dozen paces ahead of the rest of the cavalcade, Wesson erected the sound ward around them. Rezkin glanced at him as if reconsidering then said, “I had hoped this matter could be resolved swiftly and without effort beyond what I already had planned. Circumstances have changed, and it has become evident that the enemy is several steps ahead of us.”
“You mean Caydean?” said Wesson, hearing echoes of Reader Kessa’s final words.
“Perhaps,” said Rezkin. “Caydean is certainly part of it, but I do not know if he is the source.” Turning to look at him, Rezkin said, “I knew about the demon threat before the first attack.”
Wesson was not surprised. Rezkin always knew more than he shared. He said, “Why did you not warn us?”
Rezkin furrowed his brow, and Wesson wondered if it was a natural expression or an affectation. “I did not know if the threat was real at first. My source was not particularly reliable.” He glanced at Wesson. “It was one of the fae.”
“You have met one of the fae?” Wesson did not know why he was so surprised, considering Rezkin’s connection to the elementals.
Rezkin nodded. “I made a deal with one.”
“You did what?” blurted Farson. “Perhaps you are not so immune to power after all. I cannot see you doing something so inane otherwise.”
Wesson agreed with the sentiment. He said, “If you have the poor luck to encounter one of the fae, you are never, ever supposed to make a deal. They are tricksters and manipulators. It is one of the first rules you learn as an apprentice.”
“I know that,” said Rezkin, “but circumstances were dire.”
Farson said, “Do you know how many Rules you broke? What could possibly be important enough to risk making a deal that could mean your life—or your freedom for eternity?”
Rezkin met the striker’s challenging gaze. “The safety and welfare of my friends, of a shipload of refugees, of an entire kingdom of refugees. I was observing Rule 1, which supersedes all others.” He glanced at Wesson. “Truth be told, I am not certain he would have allowed me to leave the forest if I had not accepted.”
“Then his powers affect you?” said Wesson.
“Yes, and while he has implied that I may have the power to fight him, I do not know how. I am at his mercy every time he shows himself. He is always near, yet I cannot find him.”
Wesson’s eyes widened. “The cat.”
Rezkin shook his head. “The cat is just a cat. The fae is called a katerghen, more commonly known as a forest nymph, and he is a shapeshifter. Sometimes he takes the form of the cat so as not to draw suspicion. You should know that he can also mimic people. Somehow, he takes on their auras and draws from their memories. The first time I met him, he was you, Journeyman.”
“He was able to fool you?” said Farson.
“I recognized something was wrong quickly, but I had not considered fae involvement. What is more important is that he told me demons were coming, that they were a threat to all life, and that they were coming from Ashai.”
Farson said, “So, you made a deal for information?”
“No, the information was given freely in order to convince me to accept the deal. He promised a kingdom of safety for my people.”
“Cael,” said Wesson.
“Yes, that is how I knew to go there.”
“And what must you give in return?” said Farson.
“An army.”
“For what?”
“To fight the demons. It seemed a reasonable deal, considering I already intended to build an army to fight Caydean, who is most likely the source of the demons.”
“And if he is not?” said Farson.
“Then we would need to fight the demons anyway. You see? The deal only works in my favor.”
“Except that you did not need to involve yourself in this at all,” said Farson. “You could have left Ashai. Without a master, without the oaths, you could go off to do anything you want.”
“This is my purpose, Farson. It is what I want.”
After an uncomfortable lull in the conversation, Wesson said, “You have not explained the Sword of Eyre.”
Rezkin gave Farson a warning look and then said, “It turns out the katerghen with whom I made the deal was one of the ancients.”
“An ancient? A real ancient, one of the five? The first and oldest of its kind?”
&
nbsp; “Yes, but there are actually six ancients. There are two for fire—unless it is one being that is split in two. The katerghen is the ancient of life.”
“You have met them all?”
“Briefly,” said Rezkin. “I did not know it, but when I made the deal with the katerghen, he was speaking on behalf of the ancients, on behalf of all fae in this world.”
Farson said, “That means if they had reneged on their deal, you would be the master of the fae.”
“Yes. If I fail, I will serve them for the rest of my life, however long that may be.”
“They have already delivered,” said Farson.
“Not exactly,” said Rezkin. “They promised safety. All of our people must remain safe until Cael is ours. If even one of them dies, the ancients will have failed.”
“But we have already lost people,” said Wesson.
“I believe the deal only applies to the people who were aboard the ship when I made the deal. All the people who have died joined us later.”
Wesson checked off his mental list, and he realized Rezkin was right. “That is the reason you are so determined to keep Cael, and that is why the elementals came when you called.”
“Precisely,” said Rezkin. “And, I have already amassed the armies and navies of two kingdoms, plus my forces in Ashai. The problem is, I do not think it will be enough. The demons already infest these lands. As I said before, it is no coincidence that we have encountered so many. If I deploy the armies of Lon Lerésh and Ferélle to Ashai, those kingdoms will be left defenseless.”
Farson said, “While you have been taking over criminal underworlds and kingdoms, you have also been engaged in this whole other war between fae and demons without our knowledge. Is there anything else?”
Rezkin tilted his head. “A demon opened the pathways to other realms. They are closed now, as far as I know, but other magical creatures may have entered this world.”
Farson stared at Rezkin with resignation. “Is that all?”
Rezkin shook his head and said, “Not that concerns you at this time.”
Farson said, “You felt that a war with demons and fae did not concern us until just now!”
“I never said it did not concern you, Farson. I kept it from you because I do not trust you. Let us not forget that you intend to kill me.”
“And me?” said Wesson.
Rezkin turned to him with cold eyes. “I hardly know anything about you—far less than anyone else I keep in close company. The fact that I permit you your privacy and do not require your fealty demonstrates my level of respect for you.”
Farson looked at Wesson in surprise. “You have not sworn fealty to him?”
Wesson shook his head.
Farson looked to Rezkin. “He has a greater chance of harming you than anyone I have encountered. Why would you risk that?”
“Because he would not give it,” said Rezkin.
Farson looked at Wesson.
Wesson did not know how to answer the unspoken question. He was averse to swearing fealty to anyone, but was it not expected and required to swear loyalty to one’s king?
Rezkin said, “Journeyman Battle Mage Wesson is bound to no one, as it should be. I recognized the need long before I learned of my ancestor’s motive for creating the Rez. That knowledge has affirmed my belief.”
“You leave him unbound on purpose? To kill you?” Farson said incredulously.
Rezkin’s cool blue gaze fell on Wesson. “He knows he may not survive the encounter. He will not attempt it unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”
Wesson had never asked why Rezkin did not require his fealty. Rezkin’s persistent faith in his skills as a mage paled in comparison to the faith he had placed in him as a person.
“It’s here,” said Frisha.
Tieran turned from the window that overlooked the sea. He had been wondering if the sea they saw from the tower was the same one as below. Since he had not seen the ship arrive, he still could not be certain. “Are you ready?” he said.
“No.”
Tieran rubbed her arms. “You know how he is. He sees everything. He will know.”
“Maybe. I think he’s kind of oblivious about relationships. It turns out every time I thought he was being romantic, he was just being practical or performing his duty.”
He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face so that he could look into her eyes. “Do not judge your worth by his inadequacies. You deserve happiness … and romance. I intend to give you both.”
Frisha smiled at him. “You have changed so much, Tieran Nirius.”
His smile fell. “I feel like I am betraying him.”
“He doesn’t love me.”
“Neither of us can say how he truly feels.”
“Maybe not, but that is what he wants me to believe, and I have accepted it.” She laid a hand over his heart. “You are not second choice, Tieran. I know I could have him if I wanted, but I choose you.”
He kissed her—a soft, lingering kiss. Then, he said, “Shall we walk in the garden one last time before he kills me?”
The pit in his stomach that had begun to gnaw at him on the last leg of the voyage started to ease as soon as he set foot in the warehouse. It was further proof that he was somehow tied to Caellurum. It was a weakness that he would need to address sooner than later. If he was to wage war, he would need to leave the island without becoming ill. His people were on the island, though, and he was supposed to be king. Hoping to please one of those people, he recalled that his first directive was to check on Frisha. She had said he no longer need do so, but Frisha was fickle.
Manaua informed him that Frisha had left the corveua near the gardens, so he headed there after settling his belongings in his room and checking on Cat. Apparently, since Frisha had stowed away on the ship, Ilanet had taken responsibility for Cat’s care. He would be having a talk with her later.
As he rounded the last turn in the path before reaching the garden, he heard laughter, both feminine and masculine, and it was coming closer. Frisha came bounding out of the garden with Tieran in pursuit. He grabbed her hand and spun her into his arms. Rezkin noted their flushed skin and heavy breathing, both of which could be explained by a run. The glowing smiles were less characteristic of post-run expressions for these two, and the dilated pupils and warm embrace were evidence enough. He cleared his throat, and they both glanced his way.
Frisha pushed Tieran away, seemingly in a hurry to put distance between them, and Tieran backed up a pace, as if he intended to run. Rezkin raised an eyebrow, daring him to try. Tieran swallowed hard and said, “Rezkin, g-greetings. I am glad to see that you made it back in one piece.”
Rezkin turned his gaze to Frisha. She bit her lip timidly then lifted her chin and stepped closer to Tieran, taking his hand in hers. Tieran quickly disengaged and stepped forward, protectively placing Frisha behind him. “Look, Rez, ah, we need to discuss, ah, this.”
Rezkin had seen enough. It felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart again. He knew it was not coincidence that both times it had been a woman. Frisha peered around Tieran’s back. He met her pleading gaze and said, “Happiness looks good on you, Frisha.” Then, he looked at Tieran. “And you, Cousin.”
Tieran looked at him with suspicion. “You are not angry?”
“Why would I be angry?”
“Well, because, you know … she and I—”
“Have you treated her as a lady?”
“Yes! Of course.”
Rezkin glanced into the tree about ten paces away for confirmation. Xa was stretched out on a branch, lounging against the trunk as he whittled a small stick into nothing. He shrugged and said, “It has been a rather boring show.”
Frisha shrieked. “Have you been spying on us?”
Xa said, “I am do’riel’und. I go where you go.”
Frisha balled her fists and stomped her foot. “No! Absolutely not! You are invading my privacy!”
Xa shrugged again. “You must get used
to it.” He finally looked at her. “Besides, for your precious propriety’s sake, you are not supposed to be alone with him. Think of me as your chaperone.”
Frisha’s face flushed as she glanced at Tieran, who had the decency to appear abashed.
Rezkin started to leave, but Tieran bounded forward. “Really, Rezkin. You approve? You would give us your blessing?”
“For what am I giving my blessing, Tieran?”
“We wish to be married.” Then, in a rush, he said, “Not now, mind you. After an acceptable period of courting.”
Rezkin glanced at Frisha, who looked genuinely hopeful. He said, “It is as it was always meant to be.”
Tieran furrowed his brow. “Are you saying you planned this?”
“I said nothing of the sort,” replied Rezkin. He wanted to leave. He needed to call a training session with the strikers—immediately. “Is there anything else?”
Tieran stared at him for a moment, then seemingly woke and said, “Yes.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Uh, if you were not angry before, you will be now.” Tieran glanced back at Frisha apologetically. “Tam went missing several weeks ago. I know you told me not to let him leave the island, but I sent Connovan to find him. I could think of no one better suited to the task, besides you. He found a trail, I guess. He said that Tam was taken by slave traders to the Isle of Sand.” Rezkin stared at Tieran as dozens of scenarios flashed through his mind. Tieran said, “Connovan offered to go after him, but he seemed a little too interested in Tam.” He glanced back at Xa. Then said, “Considering who he is, I thought it best to wait for your return. I am sorry if I made the wrong choice. I had no idea what to do.”
The stab wound to Rezkin’s heart felt as if it had been ripped open, and the stone resting on his chest had heated to nearly unbearable. He inhaled deeply and focused on shattering his feelings, replacing them with the vast emptiness that had become so familiar during his training. He said, “Tam is likely already dead.” He turned to leave, but Frisha ran up and blocked his way.
She had tears in her eyes, but she appeared furious. “You can’t know that! You have to go after him.”