The Duchess waited until her daughter's family was out of sight before she stood to confront Nylian. A full head shorter than him, she had to lean back and look up to meet his eyes. “You don't deserve her.”
Nylian examined the rounded points of his fingernails. “The identification of a Spellkeeper without intent of bringing her to Anthora is a betrayal of our order. Duchess Ranalae Nightshadow-Goldtree of the Jade Realm cultivated two Spellkeepers with the intent of using them to challenge my position and claim The Crown for herself. I assume your intent was the same. You both failed and now the Twilight and Eclipse Spellkeepers are where they were meant to be, synapses in the beating heart of Bacra.”
“She belongs to the Frost Realm. And to me.”
Nylian smiled as he shook his head. “No, Hallietta. She belongs to Bacra. In your greed and power-lust you committed an unspeakable act to create her, but I will never blame her for what she is because she did not choose her existence. Her birth was your crime, not her own. She is safe here. You no longer are.” He glanced toward the door, where Lumin still gazed mournfully at the new-fallen snow. “Guards, take her outside. Return her frozen head to Icetower with notice that all Wintermoons are stripped of their titles and a permanent Duke will be appointed shortly.”
“What? No!” the Duchess protested. She struggled, but a slight, older elf had no chance against three young royal guards.
Her screams fell silent as blood sprayed upon the frosted windows and marred the pristine snow. The order and execution were over quickly, so quickly that Shan's breaths barely had time to pause. He'd killed before, accidentally and by necessity, but this was different. The Duchess's execution was jarringly efficient and as cold as the High King himself.
“Nylian? Did you truly have to do that in front of the children?” Gwenela asked, her napkin held to her painted lips and a pallor creeping across her skin.
Marita's toenails raked Shan's ankle. Her teeth were bared and her hands trembled against her plate. Shan wanted to do something, anything, to comfort her, but he couldn't move while he was still remembering how to breathe.
“I'm not finished,” Nylian growled. His wing brushed against Shan's back as he paced along the table. “The former Duchess was of no concern to me until moments ago when her betrayal was revealed. The arrival of my second Spellkeeper will do nothing to dampen the horror that is today. There is another, more dire, matter that must be attended to.”
What? Marita mouthed as Nylian circled the head of the table.
Shan held a finger to his lips and shook his head. Not now, not now, whatever it is, not now. Just breathe.
Nylian paused behind Liantor’s wife, Callamia. He tilted his head to the side as his fingers traced the winding river of her long, black braid. “Liantor.”
Liantor stared at his father, confusion wrinkling his brow. “Yes, Father?”
The meal staff scurried out of the room as the guards stepped closer to the table.
Nylian twisted the end of Callamia's braid around his slender fingers. “These six months of your absence have been a revelation. You told me you were searching for the missing Spellkeepers, and I am grateful that you have brought me one. However, there is a troubling matter I can no longer ignore. Two dozen operatives, none of whom are connected to each other, have relayed to me the same set of stories. For twenty years, someone close to me has been working with the Fae. Even after they killed my beloved Kailandrian and I was forced to declare war, this traitor continued to feed Fae Intelligence information, undermining our attacks and leading to the countless deaths of Anthoran soldiers. This traitor chose his covert friendships with a handful of Fae over his loyalty to his own family. He chose chaos over bringing his little brother's murderers to justice. Liantor, my eldest son, I had so much hope for you. I thought you would follow me as High King and continue the path of Bacran prosperity that I began after my mother's reign of rising madness ended.”
The guards pressed closer. Callamia's respirations grew sharp and her mouth gaped as Liantor began to tremble.
“You are mistaken, Father. I would never betray you. I would never betray our family,” Liantor said, his voice quavering.
Nylian rested his elegant hands on Callamia's shoulders. He looked toward the ceiling and shook his head. “The evidence is vast and indisputable.”
“Please. Listen to me.”
Nylian's eyes danced from the ceiling to Nyssandrian, who appeared just as horrified as Callamia. “Captain Vedalun Harris, Faelands Security. Faeline warlock of considerable skill, and your friend and confidant for over two decades. You betrayed me to a Faeline, Liantor.” Like a cat playing with a length of string, he batted Callamia's braid side-to-side. Tears welled in his bright eyes and he made no motion to brush them away. “My firstborn son, my light in the dark times . . . I still remember your first cry and the smell of your newborn skin. First smiles, first laughs, first steps, and I watched you grow and become a man I thought was destined for greatness. I loved you and I love you still, even with the treachery, even with the betrayals. I watched you love and hold your own newborn daughters in the same way I held you. You will not watch them grow as I watched you. No one will. The line of Liantor Lightborn comes to an end today.”
Liantor's gasp of, “No!” was echoed by Callamia's scream.
In senseless desperation, Liantor grabbed Shan's hand. It was too late, though. A binding shackle clamped onto Liantor's wrist as the guards hauled him to his feet. His warlock skills instantly rendered useless, he slumped against them.
“Daddy!” his three black-haired daughters screamed.
“Liantor.” Nylian's tears were gone and the faint tremble in his voice was replaced by a hollow calm. Blood trickled over Callamia's collarbone as the rounded points of his fingernails dug into her flesh. “I need all of you to watch what happens when I am betrayed by my own family. Liantor, you already know what the fate of a traitor is. You will receive that sentence in a moment, but first you need to witness the result of your actions. Guards, first the girls. I am sorry, my granddaughters. This will only hurt for a moment and then you'll be free.”
Blood sprayed across the table as knives sliced through the throats of Liantor's three young daughters. Callamia's scream filled the room as the life left her daughters' pleading eyes and their sprayed blood dripped from her chin.
“What have you done?” Liantor struggled against the guards, but his resolve faded with his daughters.
“Your line has ended,” Nylian said, his quiet voice barely audible against Callamia's screams. “Your crimes cost you everything and removed your daughters from this world. The future is gone for them, as it is for you. Bacra will never know High Queen Elianora. It will never thrive under High King Liantor. I mourn their passing, my son, just as I mourn yours.” His right hand held fast to Callamia as his left traveled to his mouth. “Guards, fulfill the final sentence of Liantor Lightborn.”
Liantor's eyes never left Callamia's as his blood flowed down his chest and pooled at his feet. The guards let him drop to the ground as the life left his body. He landed in an awkward heap of limbs and blood, his open eyes still fixed in the direction his wife had been. Outside in the distance, three dragons shrieked and roared as their bond to Liantor severed. They were feral now, and once they finished the berserking phase of their severance they would retreat to the wild, never to be approached by people again. Lightborns bonded with dragons in early childhood, so Shan wondered where the children's young dragons were. It was likely they were ransacking Liantor's residence and desperately searching for a way out.
Nylian's lips twitched as he nodded at his second son, whose entire body quaked through a series of sobs. “Nyssandrian, my dear boy . . . I regret to inform you that you are now my primary heir. I will give you two weeks to compose yourself and get your affairs in order before you, Faralea, and your children begin training to fulfill your duties. I have full faith in your abilities, Nyssandrian. You will be a just and capable King when y
our time comes.”
“You . . . you killed them. A-a-all of them,” Nyssandrian stammered, tears mingling with the blood drops on his cheeks.
His eyes downcast, Nylian nodded. “I wish this could have ended differently. You and your brother were so close as children. Inseparable. I know this is devastating for you. With time, I believe you will understand why this had to happen. With time, I may learn to forgive myself for doing this.” He released his grasp on Callamia's shoulders. “Callamia, you are released from the Lightborn name and are free to choose your path.”
“Kill me,” Callamia moaned.
“My dear, you do not need to die along with them. You are young. You can start over.”
“I already died with them. Kill me.”
“I have no cause to kill you,” Nylian said. His face was still, but the look in his eyes approached confusion.
Marita gasped and reached across the table. Shan leaned forward and brushed his fingertips across hers. Too much, too much, and it all falls apart. The closest person he had to a friend in the Lightborn family was gone, and so were the children. My gods, the children, Shan thought as his heart slammed against his chest. Why? Why did he kill them? Why not disown them? Dead now, all of them dead.
Callamia's chair toppled to the floor as she stood and pushed past Nylian. Shan didn't see the knife in her hand until she had already grabbed Lumin.
“No!” Unfrozen, Shan stood and dashed around the table. “No! He's mine! Please! Put him down!”
“I don't give a shit about you, Spellkeeper,” Callamia growled, spraying blood and spittle onto Lumin's panicked face. The dragon twisted and snapped at her, but she had him in a position where he couldn't reach her to bite. “Nylian, you twisted sard, kill me now. Kill me or I kill this dragon. I know you love dragons more than you love your own family. I know this one is special.”
Nylian stood unmoving.
“No! Please!” Shan stopped barely a yard from Callamia. “Lumin.”
Callamia sneered, her eyes clouded with blood. “Look at what's been done to this dragon, Shannon. Look what's been done to you. This is a mercy.”
Her arm swung toward Lumin. Shan sprang to grab her wrist, but his withered fingers lacked the strength to keep her from plunging the knife into Lumin's side. Once, twice, three times as Shan flailed against her.
Strength couldn't beat her when he had none to use. With a roar, he slammed his binding shackle into the side of her head. It wasn't enough to knock her unconscious, but her grip on the knife faltered. He grabbed it from her and slammed it into her chest.
Callamia yelped, then smiled. Her smile broke into a grimace of regret and grief as she and Lumin fell with Shan to the floor. “Thank you. I'm sorry, so sorry.”
Her eyes closed. Her hold on Lumin relaxed as her punctured heart stopped beating.
“Lumin...” Shan gathered the dragon in his arms and pulled her away from Callamia.
Hurts. Lumin spoke directly into Shan's mind as he looked up with fear in his green eyes. His limbs twisted and writhed as he struggled to breathe. Hurts. Help.
“No, no, no, no!” Shan pressed his palms over Lumin's wounds, but there was too much blood to dam the cascade.
Help. Hold me. Help. Lumin cried out in terror. His tail bulb beat the ground as Shan clutched him to his chest.
“Don't go. I love you. I need you.”
Find your light. Lumin's voice was a whisper, little more than a lost leaf tumbling on the winter wind.
Light. Find the light. Maybe...
Shan pulled the light toward him as he inhaled. Fire light, reflected snow light, sunlight. Sparks and orbs sailed toward him. They gathered above his hands and danced through his hair. Light. I give you light so you can live.
“What are you doing?” Nylian yelped. He could summon trepidation for this, but not for his own son? Monster. “Stop! Shannon, no!”
Shan's heart screamed in agony, then cracked in half as the bond severed. Lumin's eyes looked up at him, glassy and lifeless. “No.”
No, no, no, must keep going.
He pushed the gathered light through Lumin's wounds, through his punctured lungs and the still rivers of his veins. He leaned close over the dragon's face and whispered, “Breathe.”
The chasm in Shan's heart slammed shut as Lumin gasped. Shan glanced down at Lumin's scaled chest. The wounds had not knit together. Only light sealed them, only light returned a rhythm to his heart. Shan closed his eyes and reached internally, testing the bond within his own heart. Light filled the chasm, just light. The dragonbind was now a lightbind.
“What have you done?” Nylian gasped. Holding his wings aloft, he crouched next to Shan and touched Lumin's back.
“I saved him,” Shan whispered. Marita was safe and Lumin's heart once again beat in time with his own. Nothing in the rest of the room mattered. Lumin remained silent as Shan nuzzled his face. Shan kissed him and swayed away from Nylian.
“No, you did not,” Nylian said. He grabbed Shan's chin and forced him to look him in the eyes. “You're a lightbinder warlock. You're a living paradox. Why didn't I see it before? You didn't save your dragon, you damned him. Can't you feel it?”
Shan held Lumin close and closed his eyes. The heart beat, the blood flowed, the bond reached. The mind was nearly silent. Lumin's mind was no longer able to speak to Shan's. It was barely able to force his body to move, and it only recognized Shan as someone safe. The feisty Lumin who had hatched into Shan's hands was gone. So was the melancholy, mournful young dragon who only took joy from cuddling with Shan as they slept through the rare shared dreams. This dragon who was left was nothing but a beautiful whisper.
“Light cannot revive the dead, Shannon,” Nylian said gently. “It can only force them to breathe through the silence of their own minds. They can respond to commands and needs, and they can vaguely recognize the things and people they knew before, but they are otherwise locked and alone within their own minds. They do not age, they do not heal, and their pain never ends. There is cruelty in existing within this bridge between life and death. You love him, and that means you need to let him die.”
Hot tears fell from Shan's clenched eyes and dripped upon Lumin's neck. “I don't know how.”
Nylian's hands were warm and soft over Shan's. “I will teach you. This is the hardest lesson a lightbinder will ever learn. We are not healers and our gift comes with consequences. I need you to reverse what you did. Draw the light out of him. Dissipate it instead of condense it. Allow it to return to its source.”
“It hurts too much,” Shan whimpered.
“It's going to hurt more in a minute.” Nylian put an arm around Shan and kissed his temple. “I was only a few years older than you when I tried what you just did. I tried to save Kyrandian, my older brother. What looked back at me was not Kyrandian and it took me three weeks to realize what I'd done. He suffered for those weeks, until I let him go. Let Lumin go, Shannon.”
“What will happen when the bind breaks?”
“To you, I don't know. It's already broken, though. The patch you placed upon the shattered connection won't hold.”
Shan breathed slowly, inhaling the lilac scent of Lumin's scales. He studied the withered wings, the delicate blue and black spirals on the golden scales, the now-faint glow of the luminescent tail bulb, the slight twist of the horns, the lights and darks within the green of his eyes. This was it, all that was left of the beautiful dragon Shan had stolen away from an underground hell.
He kissed Lumin's face, then pressed his forehead against the dragon's and closed his eyes. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
The light retreated with more hesitation than it arrived. Sparks spiraled away from Lumin's chest, leaving oozing gashes. The heart stopped as soon as the last patch of light was withdrawn, and Lumin fell limp.
The chasm returned, wider and deeper than the first time. Every bit of Shan's being screamed and reached out for a soul that no longer existed.
Shan clutched Lumin's st
ill body to his chest. He rocked away from Nylian and into Marita's reaching arms.
Ignoring the blood, both dragon and elven, she kissed his hair and face. “I'm so, so sorry. I'm here with you. Stay with me, Shan.”
“He's free now,” Shan sobbed. “I hope he's somewhere he can fly.”
“I'm sure he is,” Marita whispered. She stroked Lumin's jaw before easing Shan's head onto her shoulder. “You're still here. Stay with me. I love you.”
“I'm still here.” The pain in his heart swelled to a maelstrom. He pressed a bloodied palm against her cheek as he looked up to kiss her lips. He had to stay. For her, for their baby, for the people he promised himself he would help. He failed Lumin. He wouldn't fail them. Fight forward another second, another minute, another day. Fight through the pain and survive.
Part 2
Preludes
13
Benny
The floor rattled and groaned as the wagon made its way along a desolate road somewhere in the Agate Realm. Clomping hooves and muffled conversations were punctuated every few seconds by the slow stomp of a coaxi foot. Benny was used to the strange ambiance of the Fae war caravan now. She didn't know how long it had been since they were taken prisoner. Maybe two months, maybe longer. The seasons were indistinct this far south and the only reference she had was the rising and setting sun as they traveled southeast. Southeast, always southeast, and that was the reason they had not yet tried to escape. They were fed, sheltered, and protected within the caravan, and every day without a battle took them closer to Radella. The battles were infrequent and easily won once the Fae crossed the Salt Range and dipped south into the scarcely populated Agate Realm. This part of Bacra and the South Isles in the Azuredeep Sea were inhabited primarily by orcs, who had no cause to bother the Fae on their war parade. In fact, they often discretely offered help in the form of shared meals and equipment repairs.
The four prisoners chose to remain cooperative since the advantages outweighed the inconvenience of being locked in the caged wagon. That imprisonment was not constant, as Cass decided early on that her captives were to earn their passage to the Azure Realm by training the younger Fae fighters. Every stop that wasn't for a fight, Benny was placed with the magic-skilled to teach the basics of battle magic, while Mordegan and Radamar taught melee skills to a clumsy and awkward group of conscripts. Juna alternated between the two classes. They were left unchained and allowed to roam a small area of the camp during meal and entertainment times, but someone always locked them back in the wagon when it was time for sleep, travel, and battle. Escape was inevitable, but for now they were cautiously comfortable.
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