Thread Skein (Golden Threads Trilogy Book 3)

by Leeland Artra

  The Nhia-Samri patrols around the city were being shadowed by Daggers, city guards, and the city’s artifacts, known as sentinels, which were automated guards. They had a vast array of weapons from the height of the non-magical people’s technology, which were built when the initial cities were being constructed. They’d been turned off and sealed under many layers of locks, but those were easily broken by the regents calling for them.

  The regents had specifically ordered the sentinels to guard the city from the Nhia-Samri, but not to go on the offensive. The initial Nhia-Samri attack force had backed off from their onslaught on the western gate the moment the sentinels had soared overhead, blasting at the few of their mages who’d been trying to open a hole in the city’s defensive shields.

  Supplies were becoming scarce, and that had given rise to increased thefts, attempts at graft, and an entirely new black market on food.

  The regents were at a loss for what else could be done. Until some Imperial troops came to break the blockade, everyone, inside and outside of the city walls, was stuck sitting around, waiting for something to happen. Aelargo had the greatest navy in the world, but practically no army. The threat of naval destruction of ports and ships was usually enough to guarantee Aelargo would not be attacked by any of its neighbors.

  Electra wasn’t sure how long it had taken her to get to the throne room. The portrait gallery had given her some confidence back, but she still felt as though she were tightly wrapped in wool padding. The world seemed flat, and her eyes were red, but the tears had stopped. She wiped her face and straightened her stance as she entered the throne room. Her eyes still were blurry and tiny golden sparks swam in her vision. Ignoring her aches, blurred vision, and dry throat, she concentrated on holding herself together.

  A heated discussion was going on in the throne room as Electra entered. She paused to assess the situation before making her presence known. A small pack of nobles was led by the recently reinstated Lord Allusia, chief minister of intelligence.

  “They have total control of the southern 950 miles of Laeusia. Now we have definitive proof they have taken control of a similar southern portion of Nasur, leaving only a small region around the capital that’s barely big enough to call a county, let alone a country. If they decide to continue east, that will mean all of Aelargo will fall under their control! You have to demand Imperial action.”

  “I will not demand anything. The report also clearly states that they’re giving citizens who wish to leave safe passage with all of their belongings. Princess Sheila is safe in Pentegull, along with her advisers.”

  “My Lord, you must call for help. Our defenses will not hold against them if they decide to stop simply blockading us. They broke the defenses at the palace at Allornia easy enough. Princess Sheila is no fool, and she was fully trained in controlling those ancient fortifications.”

  “Llino is not a small provincial city like Allornia. Our city was built by Lord Larak, Lady Dalpha, and Duke! We’re far more fortified than any other, except perhaps Gracia. Also, it’s my understanding that Laeusia does not have any sentinels.”

  Lord Allusia dropped to his knees, facing Regent Ellua with his hands gripped together. “Lady, please help me with your brother, for all our people’s sake. The sentinels are not proof against the Nhia-Samri. We have a clear report from the Algan battle that a single mage defeated three sentinels by himself. If not for Duke and the Daggers, he would’ve been unstoppable.”

  Lady Ellua was clearly sympathetic, and that last plea must have struck a blow. She visibly swayed before turning to her brother. She indicated Lord Allusia with an open hand. “Bayion, he’s right. I’ve read that report. I’m not convinced the Nhia-Samri mages were threatened by the sentinels. It’s just as likely that they were ordered to stop their attack to give us a false sense of security.”

  Bayion sighed. “Yes, yes. I’ve read the same report. Lord Allusia, stand up. You look silly like that. But I keep asking myself what they could possibly have gained by giving us that false sense of security? I have no answer. If they weren’t threatened, they could have seized the city and us along with it.”

  Electra felt a chill run through her. What had her crushed so hard was that the Nhia-Samri base Dohma and Duke had just attacked had exploded with much more force than the one that had killed Ticca and Lebuin. The events clicked into place. She stepped out. “Time!”

  Everyone turned to see who was speaking, and the regents’ brows tightened as they took in both Electra and her interruption.

  “Time for what?” Lord Bayion asked.

  Electra moved to stand next to Lord Allusia as he got to his feet. “Time to set a trap for Dohma and Duke,” she said, her voice strained and hoarse from crying, even to her ears.

  Ellua stared at Electra’s eyes and glanced at her cheeks. “What has happened?” Ellua’s voice was soft and comforting, like a mother trying to bolster her child’s confidence.

  Bayion’s mouth was open to argue the point, but his head turned first to Ellua. He looked into Electra’s eyes as well, and promptly closed his mouth. He walked down the three steps and grasped her by her shoulders. Looking to his left, he called for a chair and some sharre, which were quickly delivered. Bayion guided her to sit before handing her a small cup of the sweet wine. “Drink it, my dear. Then tell us what’s happened.”

  Electra was so numb, she didn’t even argue with being treated like a child. She tilted her head back and drank the entire glass as one would take bitter medicine. The sharre burned as it poured down her throat. Warmth and energy flowed through her like a wave cresting over her body. Her senses cleared, and both Bayion and Ellua were beside her, each with a hand resting on one of her shoulders.

  Even with the comfort of the sharre penetrating her body, she sobbed as grief beat back the artificial boost. She began, “Duke and Dohma’s attack on the major base southwest of Gracia was a trap. The base has been destroyed by a powerful magical attack designed to burn everything for miles to ash.”

  The room exploded with dozens of conversations. Ellua dropped to her knees next to Electra, shaking her head. Bayion had gone quiet, and was staring out the windows.

  Ellua’s face tightened. “No. My brother is not dead. He would find a way.” Her voice was steady and sure. She had no doubts at all.

  The sharre continued to work in Electra’s system. The world was a shimmering blur through her tears. The court was like a tide of particles, circling into and out of one conversation or another, as the ocean swept them about.

  Wiping her eyes didn’t make the shimmering diminish. Blinking her vision clear only made the golden specks clearer. Electra scanned the room. She could see that each person glowed with an aura that ranged in color and brightness. Some had strong golden nimbuses around them; others had blue, and there were even a few red. One or two people had broken patterns surrounding them. Electra had never seen anything so beautiful. She looked up, first at Bayion and then his sister. They both had shimmering silver auras, tinged with gold and blues, that flowed out and connected to the floor in a way unlike any other. A fine golden thread ran from the center of Bayion to the center of Ellua.

  Her heart leapt and hammered as she noted there were other golden threads present. She saw three more from the center of Bayion, another four more from Ellua, and surprisingly, a third from herself. Two of the threads from Bayion went towards the east and up, which was where his family’s chambers were. Three of the threads from Ellua also went off easterly, towards her family’s chambers.

  Three remaining threads stole all her attention. One from Bayion, one from Ellua, and one from herself that all shot off in the same direction, north. She brought her hand up and tried to grab the thread, but her hand passed through it, as if it was nothing more than a dream. She stood and faced the same direction as Bayion, trying to follow the thread. Hope bloomed, and her heart rac
ed as she reached out with all her might, her hands stretching longingly.

  She felt a tug from the thread, like something at the other end was trying to pull her to it, or pull itself to her.

  A forlorn voice came to her. ‘Electra. Lords and Ladies, I never should have left you.’ She had that odd, wondrous sensation she felt when Dohma looked at her, even though she wasn’t able to see him. Before he left, they’d become so close that they seemed to know each other’s moods and thoughts.

  She hoped and prayed. ‘Dohma? Oh, Lady, let this be real! Can it be truly you?’

  She felt a small surge of hope, combined with confusion, come to her through the connection. ‘Electra? Is it you? Somehow, it is you. I can hear your heart. You’re crying. Ellua is holding your hand. Lords, thank you! I can say I love you one last time.’

  ‘YES! OH, YES! My Lord, come home to me! Don’t you dare give up! I don’t want to live without you.’

  ‘My Lady. I don’t know where I am. I can’t even feel my body. I’m sorry. I feel you, and your love is giving me energy enough to think clearly.’

  “Give him my energy, too,” Ellua whispered in Electra’s ear with a sense of wonder.

  Ellua’s words snapped understanding into Electra. The regents were connected by some kind of magic, but something else had happened as well. She’d given herself to Lord Dohma before he left, and he’d done the same to her. In the way of the Empire, the ceremonies were just for tradition and a general announcement to the people of what was already in place. As far as the Empire’s magic was concerned, she was Lord Dohma’s wife, so she was joined into the same network of connections shared by the regents. The sharre, her emotions, Ellua’s proximity, Bayion’s proximity, and maybe her experiences with Vesta’s networks had enabled her to not only sense, but also to use the interconnection. She was unconsciously sending energy from herself, and probably from the sharre, to Lord Dohma. Just like any couple or family, they could sense and support each other on a level beyond mere words and actions.

  Electra lifted her other hand. “Bayion, take my hand and give me your energies.”

  Bayion grabbed her hand without thinking, and then he sputtered. “Wait, what?”

  “Just do it, brother. Now, be quiet. Our new sister needs to concentrate,” Ellua commanded.

  Ignoring them, Electra felt for how to push or let the energies flow. It only took a couple experiments before she found the right feeling. With a surge, the connection opened, and energy flowed from Bayion, Ellua, and Electra, down the thread to Lord Dohma. She could sense his body healing.

  ‘Never give up, my Lord!’ she commanded him.

  Dohma didn’t answer, but she could feel his confidence and determination reasserting themselves. She could feel his love for her adding its own unique power to fight through the pain and return.

  The last of the energies she could share left her, and she felt her legs wobbling. She could feel Lord Dohma would be strong enough to recover, as the strength of the link began to fade. Afraid she might not be able to reestablish it, she sent waves of love as she said, ‘My Lord, we are safe, but trapped. Llino is sealed under an unbreakable Nhia-Samri blockade. They seem to be waiting for something. Ellua and I both fear the city’s defenses are not proof against them.’

  None of the initial hopelessness remained in Dohma’s feelings as he responded. ‘I’ll let Shar-Lumen know how displeased I am with this news. Surrender if you must. You and my family must stay alive. I’m coming.’

  She lost the energy to hold onto the connection just as she felt Dohma’s rage at the situation filling him. Electra fell to the floor as Bayion tried to catch her, only to discover he did not have the strength himself. Ellua also slipped to the floor.

  Electra laughed as a raging fire of joy filled her heart. Bayion and Ellua joined her laughter as the courtiers and guards ran to lift them into their chairs, and pages rushed to bring them more stout drinks.

  Brow furrowed, Mandy held another glass of sharre for Electra. After sipping it, she started feeling better. She tried to find the threads, but she couldn’t see them. She concentrated and briefly saw them before her vision cleared.

  Power or concentration or maybe some kind of state of mind is needed. I’ll have to look into mage meditations and abilities. I might be able to use those threads at will.

  As they recovered, neither Bayion, Ellua, nor Electra bothered to explain anything. They kept looking at each other, nodding, understanding that only they and Dohma knew what had taken place.

  Mandy finally stood between them, putting her hands on her hips. “What on Yur just happened? And what are you three nodding at?”

  Electra sat up straighter. “I think Duke has some competition over who’ll do the most damage. It seems getting burnt to ash has the same effect on Lord Dohma as on Duke.”

  Ticca

  Ticca leaned on her horse for support as she made her way down the trail. She had no idea how many times she’d pulled her empty canteen from her belt and shook it, hoping some water had condensed to give her even a sip.

  I need to find some shade and wait for the rest of the group. I’m starting to get dizzy from dehydration. We’ll have to share out some of the remaining water.

  She tried to calculate how much water was left, but she kept coming up with different answers. Even though they’d taken a measure of the water only four marks earlier, she couldn’t clearly remember how much it had been. Her trainer’s voice came through the small headache and fuzziness of her thoughts. ‘Don’t ration your water in the desert. You’ll have a better chance of surviving if your head is clear.’ Until that moment, she hadn’t really appreciated what that meant.

  They’d managed to cross the Razor Back Mountains using what they hoped was a trade trail. It was not well-maintained, and showed little sign of being used in years. It had taken them over the mountains, and the view south was nothing but blazing, cream-colored sand dunes. A few twisted and brown mahogany trees grew like bushes along the mountain slopes, dotting the terrain to the east and west. At times, they could see a clear line where the hard dirt and rock of the mountains turned into the sands of the deadly Circumveni Desert.

  Heat radiated off of the desert floor, blurring the horizon in waves of light. Even though it was still at least four miles and a couple thousand feet down to the desert proper, the temperature was reaching well over a hundred degrees all day long and dropping near the frost point at night.

  The team had made large water bladders for the horses to carry on the ascent. Even though they’d crested the mountains confident in their survival training, the descent had taken a few days longer than expected, due to the trail having collapsed at a deep ravine. In getting everything across, they’d lost a lot of water. The bladders were almost empty, and it had been two days since Ticca had a drop of water for herself. She’d ordered the water held for the horses; she knew they would be critical to the group’s survival.

  Due to the effect of water deprivation on her brain, it took Ticca a few seconds to recognize that her horse had stopped moving. Like pulling a stick through thick old honey, she brought her focus to what was around her. Her horse was sniffing at a crevice. It pawed at the crack in the wall, whining. Ticca let go of the saddle, which she’d been using to hold herself up. After dismounting, she forced herself to step up to see what her horse had found. A breath of moist, cool air brushed her face, causing her skin to dimple with a brief chill in the heat.

  Hope fed her energy, and she started shimming sideways, into the narrow fissure. The smells of ancient granite and dirt, mixed with brownish moss, filled her nostrils.

  The faint promise of moisture in the air spurred Ticca to move. The gap narrowed, and she wedged herself in, unable to turn her head. She paused to decide if it was worth the risk. The wind blew another sweet, tantalizingly cool, moist breath over her body,
and she shivered in excitement at the promise of water. Ticca worked her way backwards and then lay down on her side to slither through like a snake. She had to wiggle slowly; it was so narrow that she was stopped with each breath and had to exhale to pass the final few feet.

  Once through, she froze for a moment as her body was wracked with different feelings. Her spine tingled, muscles quivered, and her skin prickled as she took in the hidden green alcove before her. The water she’d prayed for was there. In fact, it cascaded down a twenty-foot shimmering waterfall, from an opening in the side of the mountain into a clear pool, before running out of her field of vision. There was an area that had signs of being used as a campsite in the past. Without another thought, she dropped to the side and dunked her head in with her mouth open.

  She drank and splashed the water over her head as she giggled. If she’d been more hydrated, tears would’ve been running from her eyes. She drank as much as she could. Finally, she rolled over and looked around.

  Not sure why anyone would be coming this way as frequently as this place seems to indicate. But the trail is clean here, and this looks like a perfect camp. If it weren’t for the horses and men, I would use this tonight.

  She grabbed her canteen and filled it, taking more drinks from it and filling it again. Like everyone’s in her group, hers was bone dry.