Uh-oh, Ciardis thought. And there’s the other shoe.
She’d known there was something fishy about the kiths’ ready admittance of their secret. Turned out the divulgence of such ability didn’t mean that the mechanics of how it was done would be completely transparent.
Thanar looked directly at her, his black eyes catching her golden gaze as he thought, Does it need to be?
A proprietary magical tactic which could leave us vulnerable mid-assault? she questioned.
His jaw twitched—a clear sign that he didn’t like her phrasing. But his words were mild as he batted back smoothly, A centuries-old mechanism that has remained secret to protect individuals and their families from eradication.
It was Ciardis Weathervane then who was feeling uncomfortable. Because he was right. But so was she.
The kith were legally barred from fighting back against their human “betters” in the Algardis Empire. A murder charge wouldn’t just mean death for the kith but potential retaliation against their entire community. So she could see why they’d put a lot of effort and a lot of stock in both fleeing to escape persecution and keeping the method of their escape a secret which only they were privy to.
But they were going to war, any slight miscalculation and they could be cut off from the ritual before they could even begin.
Still, Ciardis thought to herself, it may be worth it.
Worth what? she heard Sebastian say.
Against her better judgment, she thought back to the emperor, Trusting the kith.
He was silent, but Thanar’s approval glowed in her mind.
She couldn’t make the decision for Sebastian; they would also just have to wait to see what he said.
Understanding that necessity, even without being able to share in the conversation between the triumvirate members, the kith leader turned swiftly to look at Sebastian as he said, “We keep our ability to transport close to our vests, as you humans would call it. It is a matter of survival. Not just for me and those present here, but for our children.”
There was shuffling and mutters around the room, but the kith leader’s gaze didn’t waver from the emperor as he exclaimed four more words with profound intensity, “With my liege’s permission?”
It was a simple question, but it was more than that. It was a decision with ramifications and the potential to piss off some human mages while testing the waters of a separate, and seemingly fruitful, alliance with the kith contingent.
Finally Sebastian said, “That is acceptable, but this discussion isn’t over.”
His gaze on the kith leader was bare and frank. The Emperor of Algardis wasn’t angry, but it was clear that he at least would be getting a detailed overview of how exactly this particular ability worked.
The kith leader nodded in acceptance of the terms.
“Well then, now that that is settled, you lot can rest easy,” Thanar said in an almost chipper voice. “We know the method of transportation and know our roles. Finding out how to get the loyalists in place was the hard part; unlocking the ley lines is the easy one.”
Ciardis asked in a slightly suspicious manner, “What’s got you in such a good mood?”
Thanar said with a twinkle in his eyes, “We’re going to war, Golden Eyes, what could be better?”
8
Sebastian grimaced as he answered the daemoni prince’s depraved question. “I’d prefer peace and prosperity for my people, but I guess we all have to get our jollies from somewhere.”
Thanar’s enthusiasm was undaunted as he continued, “As for the ley line-unlocking portion, I’ve done it numerous times for my people.”
An interested murmur went through the room. Ciardis heard a none-too-polite comment of, “What, did you steal their magic along with their lives as well?”
She chose to ignore it, though she felt a spike of delicious dark anger in Thanar in response. Although he also didn’t confront the person aloud.
Thanar said with a slightly sarcastic air, “Now, if, my lord scholar, you are ready to get your nose out of the kith’s fur, we have work to do.”
The man jumped practically a foot in the air at being spoken directly to by the daemoni prince, but he quickly nodded and squeaked, “We do.”
It was a confirmation, not a question.
They all filed out of the room, followed behind a rapidly running scholar speaking in hushed tones with some sort of overseer.
Ciardis wondered where they were going, but as they descended further and further to lower levels of the palace, she had her answer.
The crypts below that city that housed the bones of former rulers and city sweepers alike.
This was her first time there. As flames burst into fruition with the quick work of the guided hand of the overseer from before, she thought with a shudder, I hope it’s my last.
Looking around as the light of burning oil glowed, following a stream-like arc nestled into well-laid paths on the wall, the entirety of the mausoleum carved from sheer rock and stone came into view.
It wasn’t unlike the buried city she had visited that the rebellion had taken to calling home. But it was also more. So much more.
As she looked back over at the man who held the ignition torch proudly, she realized just what he was an overseer of. The mausoleums of the imperial family of Algardis.
They’d been led straight to the bodies who would serve as the blood loyalists for the ley lines. As they filed around white-sheet-covered stone edifices that covered bodies lying on them at eye level, Ciardis felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She wondered which was Terris Kithwalker. As her eyes counted each shrouded form silently, she breathed the final number aloud. “Five, there are five.”
“Just remember,” Thanar said from his post, “they won’t really be awake. Think of it as sleepwalking.”
Ciardis grimaced, but she held on to her nerve with those words. Just barely. It was hard to think of them as the people she had come to know and love.
Logically, she knew exactly whose bodies lay under those sheets. But emotionally, her mind was awhirl with thoughts and pains and heartache. Ciardis was jolted out of the whirlwind of emotion when she heard a grinding noise start to grate overhead. They all looked up to see a vast piece of the mausoleum’s roof moving. Stone pieces in triangular shapes slowly retracted back into the stonework behind them. High overhead in the opening, at least ten stories as far as she could tell, shone the moon.
It reigned over all of them with brilliance. Full and luminescent in its glory.
As she looked back down, the burial attendant spoke for the first time. “This is a place of reverence. Reverence for our fallen ancestors and respect for those who will join them.”
Ciardis eyed him askance. She didn’t like the sound of this. ‘Creepy’ didn’t quite cover it.
“And how will this be done?” Thanar asked delicately.
The burial attendant nodded and said, “I’ve reviewed the past teachings of this ceremony during the Initiate Wars. The four vectors of the ley lines will take their places and the fifth, the focus, will act as the ignition point once the living emperor has unlocked the ritual. It is both ingeniously simple and magically complex.”
“How so?” Ciardis asked—her voice trembling just a bit. She was trying to overcome her fear. But it was hard.
But as if sensing her reluctance, she felt a warm hand cover her own. She looked over to see the emperor standing and staring straight forward. However, his hand was in her own and that was enough for her to regain some sense of strength.
Answering her, the burial attendant said in a steely voice, “The scholar and I have discussed the history and the needed input to make this happen. I understand what you’re trying to do to access the ley lines, which were vast foci of power back then.”
“Unimaginably so,” piped up the scholar.
“Now, because of that power,” the burial attendant continued with a short glance at his colleague, “the dead loyalists, including the deceased e
mperor, will act as keys, but their minders, if you will, must also be able to withstand the surge of magic that will come. Think of it as a river suddenly unlocked, and you can feel the river’s wells of natural mage gift swelling past you in a roar.”
“Which is why proper mages with the ability to not only withstand but hold themselves strong against such a wave of magic need to be chosen as minders,” concluded the scholar.
Two voices immediately spoke up.
“I volunteer,” said one.
“Choose me,” echoed another in the darkness.
The knots in Ciardis’s stomach eased. She might not have liked some of the nobles and mages and kith in the room, but she couldn’t deny the pride she felt at their willingness to put their lives on the line.
Trust me, it’s not charitable, Sebastian whispered. Fame and untapped natural magic that they would love to get their hands on.
What mage wouldn’t? Ciardis thought back.
You, was the answer she received from the Emperor of Algardis.
Before she could stutter back, I’m not a mage, he shut down the conversation. To her, a mage wasn’t born, they were made. They were taught. They studied. They were scholars. All of which the Lady Companion Weathervane hadn’t and didn’t, which she was fine with.
Nevertheless she spoke aloud, “Scholar, what makes a minder? Will that minder be bound to the loyalist?”
“Bound? No,” the scholar said in a shocked tone. “But they simply must be quite gifted to survive this trip, if you will. They will be surrounded by untapped and boundless reserves of magic. It will take skill and it will take restraint to not only not be overwhelmed by the surge but also to withhold their urges to gobble everything like a greedy eater. They could die without both skill and restraint in their arsenals.”
“All right, then,” said Thanar in impatience. “Choose your minders, let’s get on with this.”
The burial attendant nodded. “With permission then, we’ll go through with this ceremony.”
“There’s one other thing,” Sebastian said strongly.
All heads that Ciardis could see turned to him.
“How will the minders be assigned?” the Emperor of Algardis asked.
The burial attendant looked at the scholar. The scholar looked at the burial attendant.
Then the scholar cleared his throat nervously as he corrected, “They aren’t assigned, my liege. They are chosen in the same method as the last empress did. She initiated this ceremony with a gift of her blood and moved to have the minders chosen by ability.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.
The scholar hurried to add, “It’s the only way. Before the wars, any mage within reach of a ley line was free to use them if they had the skills to actually do so. The empress and her cohort of allies had to be make sure that not only were blood loyalists chosen who specifically were honor-bound to the empress’ cause, but also that the mage chosen to watch over them could do the task. If the loyalists were inhibited…well, the plan would have been for naught.”
Silently to Sebastian, Ciardis whispered, That makes sense.
I don’t like this, Sebastian said in a tense response.
Why? she asked.
He didn’t have an answer.
Deciding it was now or never then, Ciardis said, “Proceed.”
None spoke against her. Because with the Emperor of Algardis by her side, it was her place to direct their actions. Her place and her duty. Because not only had she sanctioned this magical act, she was going to be an active participant.
The burial attendant turned and swiftly gestured. Other attendants poured in from hallways adjacent to the room they stood in. Silent as ghosts and draped in silver cloth, they took their places at the foot of each open stone sarcophagus.
The burial attendant signaled once more, and the scholar stumbled forth. This time he carried a book in his left hand and a glowing lantern in his right. He chanted all the while.
He handed the lantern to the burial attendant and they proceeded to circle around the room, peering into everyone’s faces. The scholar made notes in the book he’d opened. Ciardis could just see lined pages and columns. It looked for all the world like a notary’s journal.
She watched, antsy, as he stopped before several individuals, held up the lantern, and either smiled and passed them on to a specific burial attendant or frowned and kept moving.
He’d gone through eight passed-over individuals before he found four that he needed.
Ciardis Weathervane was the last one. The fifth.
She gulped nervously as the burial attendant stepped before her and raised the lantern high. It glowed with a bright-green light. One that reminded her curiously of the light she’d seen on a solitary night long ago while sneaking head-first onto the Kasten ship docked in the warehouse.
Then, as now, the light represented mystery. Except in this case Ciardis knew what it meant if the green light flared bright for a moment.
Which it did.
Solemnly, the burial attendant lowered his lantern and said, “You’ve been chosen. Do you accede to becoming a minder of the emperor’s will?”
“No,” the emperor said angrily. “We’ll find someone else.”
The scholar quailed back and looked around nervously. Not for support, Ciardis gathered, but for anyone else who could possibly be a secondary attendant to the dead loyalists they would wake.
There was none. Everyone else, including several powerful nobles, had either been passed over or chosen.
Ciardis thought she should be surprised that each of the members of the triumvirate had been chosen, but at the same time she knew it made sense — they were all powerful mages in their own right. As the blood of Algardis, Sebastian would also be the key to activating the spell. He would have the dual role of being a minder and an initiator.
“Nonsense,” she said practically—finding bravery in her voice. She was proud to be included; she would serve just like the others.
Sebastian shot her an angry look. Even Thanar looked perturbed.
Through clenched teeth, Sebastian said in an aside, “You don’t have to do this.”
Ciardis shook her head. “You’re right, I don’t. But I’m not letting everyone else do something that I can very well do myself. At least, according to this lantern I can.”
Her last words were said a bit defensively. She hoped they were true.
The scholar spoke up. “The lore written here is very clear. Only those chosen by lantern infused with residual magic will be able to handle the task at hand. Being a minder will be a tribulation as well as a trial.”
Thanar spoke fluidly then. “We’re glorified shepherds.”
The scholar shot him a flat look. “You’re all that stands between the world and the loyalists we will revive. You are both their defenders and their guides.”
“Defenders?” questioned another of the chosen—a noble this time.
The burial attendant turned away from Ciardis and handed off the lantern to a silver-robed attendant. Now that its job was done, it too was no longer needed.
“Protectors, perhaps,” the burial attendant said in a reflective voice as he came to stand very near one of the shrouded bodies. “But make no mistake—if these five don’t each make it to their ley line points of origin, then none of this will matter. Each acts as a lock, and only when synced in unison can the initiator, the emperor, act as a key to open the ley lines and flood the interlopers with a wave of destructive power.”
Ciardis gulped harshly, but Thanar spoke aloud in a bored voice, “We’ll get them there, don’t you worry. Now do your part and awaken them before I lose what’s left of my temper.”
“Do it,” Sebastian said in a heavy voice.
“Minders, step forward and take your places at the head of the nearest shrouded body,” said the scholar.
Ciardis did as she was bid, as did the other four minders. They all stepped forward until they stood at the edges of a star-shaped form. Eac
h body arrayed outward as if in presentation.
It was a grim moment, standing over the bodies of their fallen comrades and one enemy.
As Ciardis Weathervane looked around and up at the night sky, she had the feeling the darkest part of her time had only begun. They would go deeper still into rituals which should long ago been buried and never spoken of again. But as desperate as the empress had been then during the Imperial Wars, her successors were even more desperate now.
Desperate enough to use their friends as they would use their enemies.
Desperate enough to call evil up in darkness and allow the dead to rise again to the living.
9
Ciardis felt her breath hitch in her throat as she felt magic begin to gather in the room. She tried to discern who or what it was coming from, but it seemed like everywhere and nowhere.
Close, Golden Eyes, Thanar said softly in her head. It’s the life force of every single person in this room. We’ll need it to give to the bodies laying on those mausoleum slabs.
She didn’t look over at him or have time to acknowledge his words, but she felt the chill go down her spine as clearly as if a ghost had trailed a single frigid finger along her back.
Then the scholar spoke and she had no more time for self-reflection, only actions initiated by instruction.
“Lay your hands on the shrouded body’s head,” the scholar said.
Reluctant but wise to the necessity, Ciardis did as was asked, wondering all the while whom it was that she would escort to the nexus points.
Who lay under this cloth?
Her twin brother, Caemon, perhaps?
Her esteemed mentor, Vana?
Her best friend, Terris Kithwalker?
Or was it Meres?
She didn’t voice the last candidate’s name. She didn’t even think of him. She didn’t know who was under her sheet, but she doubted anyone standing around this group wanted their candidate to be him. Peering down at the lump shape she knew that she could guess, but even staring at the shrouded bodies to pick up on the height of the person underneath felt like too heavy a burden to bear.
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