The Crown of Stones: Magic-Price

by C. L. Schneider

  “To the contrary. You were striking against the crowd of stoic Rellans and proud Arullans, all pretending it was okay that she was gone, that she died a martyr. But not you….the untamed Shinree, full of rage and love, passion and sorrow.”

  “Mostly rage. And wine,” I laughed, “lots of wine.” The memory cast a shadow over my mood. “I’m sorry I took your mother away. I should have told you then.”

  “You didn’t have to. I saw the grief on you, the regret.” Timidly, she rested a hand on my thigh. “As I see other things on you now.”

  Of course she could see it; being near her had me rigid as a blade.

  But, she’s Aylagar’s daughter, I thought desperately. And taking advantage of Neela’s bottled passions and clear inexperience—when she was completely unaware of why I was drawn to her—it was a new low for me. “This isn’t right,” I said.

  “I know,” she breathed.

  “I should go.” But my fingers were on her face again.

  “Then go.”

  “I can’t.” I leaned in. She didn’t recoil this time so I pulled her into my arms. I kissed her, and—mist rose up off the pond. Frogs croaked low and soft in the tall reeds.

  The girl in my arms stirred. A ray of early morning sun fell on the nest of black curls framing her face. “I’ve missed you,” she said sleepily. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  My hands roamed over her body. “Me too.” I stretched out on top of her.

  Playfully, she twisted away. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood” she teased.

  “Really?” I pulled her arms above her head and pinned her down.

  Mischief in her eyes, she whispered, “Tighter.” I complied and she laughed.

  Burying the sound with a kiss, I nudged my knee in between hers. I slid her dress up around her waist.

  Her hand struck my face.

  “Get off me!” Neela cried. Both hands on my chest, she shoved me and I reeled back off the bed. For a second I had no idea where I was. The forest was gone. Walls were around me.

  Neela got to her feet and shoved her dress down. She was shaking, breathing hard. Suddenly understanding what I’d done, I couldn’t breathe at all.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I would have stopped. I swear.”

  “When?” she whispered harshly. “When your seed was running down my leg?”

  My stomach clenched. I started to leave and Neela grabbed my arm.

  “Wait.” She was still visibly rattled. But she took a long, deep breath and attempted to collect herself. “It wasn’t entirely your fault. If I must go to Draken—”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “If it does,” she said firmly, “if I marry him and I’m not intact…it wouldn’t be wise to risk Draken’s displeasure for nothing but a momentary amusement. A curiosity, if you will. Surely, you understand?”

  It stung but I didn’t let it show. “Of course.”

  “Before you go…” Neela sat me back down beside her, though not near as close. “As Reth empties the slave camps, he’s stealing the record books. Everything a registered seller is required to track, all the sales, births and deaths, are in those books. Soon, your father will have information on the bloodline of every Shinree born since the slave laws were enacted.”

  “He wants to know what he has. And what they can do.”

  Loud voices broke out in the house and her eyes shot to the door. “Whatever he’s after, Reth knows the truth now. Or he soon will.”

  “The truth about what?”

  The door opened. Light flooded the room and General Aldous glared at me from the hallway. Accompanied by two Kaelish Guardsmen, he barged in, gripping the sword at his hip. “Arrest that man!” he barked.

  Neela stood. “That is not necessary.” Her face blank, she adopted a restrained, quiet authority. “As you can see, I am unharmed.”

  “What I see,” the General said scathingly, “is the Queen alone, in the dark, with an uncivilized witch.” Snarling, he drew his weapon. “I should kill you right now.”

  “General,” Neela said firmly. “Stand down.” She turned to me then, cold as a brick wall. “You are dismissed, Troy. Assemble your men at first light.”

  “Sorry, Your Grace,” I said, “but I can’t do that. They aren’t my men.”

  Her brow crinkled. “I have said that they are.”

  “I can’t lead them. I won’t.”

  “Shinree follow the orders given them. Even you.”

  Unclenching my jaw was difficult. “You have my sword and my magic. But you can’t have both at the same time.”

  “I can. And I will,” she informed me crisply.

  “If I fight alongside your soldiers and cast among them, they will die.”

  “This conversation is over. I will not discuss strategy with a servant.”

  “And I will not blindly follow orders simply because you smile at me. I had enough of playing lapdog with your mother.”

  The room went silent. Icy resentment darkened Neela’s stare. “General,” she said, still glaring at me. “Escort this man from my presence.”

  Brandishing his sword, Aldous positioned himself behind me. “Move, Shinree.”

  “You better talk some sense into her, General,” I said, glancing at him. “Putting me in charge of the troops is the wrong move. I have to take Reth out and reclaim the crown before your soldiers attack, or it’ll be a bloodbath.” I gave him a longer, more significant, look over my shoulder. “Battle experience, or not…you know I’m right.”

  Aldous paled. For just a moment, I had him. Then he poked me in the back with his blade. “I said, move.”

  FORTY NINE

  Sitting on Rella’s southernmost shore, staring out across the water at the island-city of Kabri where I was born, the battle had yet to start, but a small war was going on inside my head. Wary of going back, I was haunted by old ghosts and anxious of what new ones I might make by simply returning.

  If challenging my father caused him to unleash the power of the Crown of Stones on the world, the resulting consequence would be all my doing.

  The weight of that was devastating.

  Thankfully, I couldn’t focus on it for any length of time, seeing as the two extra souls residing in me had their own issues. Sienn and Jarryd were respectively unsympathetic and enraged at the suffering of the Rellan people. Their opposing sentiments left me with a great need to avenge their pain, as well as an appalling sense of satisfaction. I was angry, sad, homesick, triumphant, bitter, all at the same time.

  We only agreed on one thing. The Langorians had to go.

  To see that done I had to confront my father, regardless of the risk and regardless of what it cost me with Sienn. And it would cost me. Welching on an oath like I made to her was a serious matter. Pissing Neela off was not quite as dire, though I could have handled the situation better. Still, the outcome of our quarrel was promising. My words of warning had definitely rattled General Aldous.

  After completing our morning march to rendezvous with the bulk of Neela’s forces, the general called an emergency meeting where he convinced several high ranking officers that Neela’s plan was flawed. That had set off a whole afternoon of arguing.

  Not by accident, I’d missed most of it. After helping set up camp in the meadow beyond the tree line, I got myself as far away as I could from both the politicians and the thousands of men fighting on their behalf. I could still hear the soldiers from time to time though, drinking and joking, sharpening their weapons, preparing their horses, checking their armor—praying. I knew the rush they felt, the eager anxiety. How they hated waiting. They wanted to go, to move, to fight. Facing off with Death himself was better than sitting and thinking about how they might not live to see another day break.

  I agreed completely. I might have joined them, too. But I needed to quiet the turbulence in me, not fuel it. That’s why I’d been spending my time alone, drawing circles in the sand with a stick, and occupying my mind with trivial things. Such as
imagining what the land around me looked like before it was broken.

  From the teachings of my tutors, I knew that where the tips of my boots rested in the lapping waves had once been solid ground. The water directly in front of me was then flat, open field. It had jutted out far into the distance, eventually sloping upward into a wide, towering, unnamed mountain. Landlocked on three sides with open sea on the fourth, the mountain’s rocky crags and high tor served as Rella’s coastline, until about five hundred years ago, when the same quake that destroyed the Shinree Empire, and splintered the kingdom of Kael off in the east, fractured the southernmost portion of Rella. Cracking in a wide, horizontal line near the base of the mountain, most of the flatlands slid in upon itself. What remained was swallowed, as the ocean flowed in and completely surrounded the mountain; giving birth to an island and creating a new coastline for the mainland.

  Seeing great potential in the island, Rella’s ruler at the time, vowed to build a city like none had ever seen. He hired the best builders. The best materials were brought in. The planning alone took years. When construction was finally complete, the city of Kabri stood behind a wall twenty men high. Built into the side of a graduated, rocky slope, stone buildings wound halfway up the mountain to the edge of a thick, pine forest. From there, a single road led to the top where an elegant, five story castle coiled around from the north side of the island to the east.

  With gleaming spires and towers made of a stone so blue it blended with the sky, many of the castle’s windows were made with patterned, colored glass. The battlements and the gates were lined with steel. The front courtyard was small, but an ornate, elevated gallery in the back overlooked an impressive arena. A portion of the mountain had been leveled to build the arena and spectators found the views at cliff’s edge staggering. Contestants knew them as dangerous and came from all over Mirra’kellan to compete. Others came by the ship-full from far off lands simply to marvel at Kabri’s wonders. Quickly, the city’s population swelled to the point of bursting.

  Now, all that glory was gone. Most of the city was leveled. The wall had collapsed. The pine woods were burned. Heavy soot streaked the pale stones of the castle like dark, ugly scars. The fortified main section was still intact, but many of the colorful windows were broken, and the spires were no longer gleaming. One tower was missing an entire side. Another had cracked in half. Its pieces lay scattered like old, forgotten bones in the silent, empty courtyard.

  Everything was black or ash gray; the structures, the clouds, the forest. The only other noticeable color on the island was red. It was on the mass of tents erected on Kabri’s beach. It was on the uniforms of the enemy soldiers milling about. High atop the castle’s tallest tip it waved; a large flag whose blood-colored background and golden serpent stood garish and haughty against the ruin.

  Another flag was affixed to the city gate. A third, smaller, standard waved outside the main pavilion, glowing in the light of a ring of torch poles shoved deep in the sand. More torches lined the beach, chasing away the approaching dusk and illuminating the huge enemy encampment far better than I wanted it to.

  Draken was claiming the island with gusto. I couldn’t wait to show him that he was being presumptuous. And now, I had potent reinforcements to do it with. Possessing the steadfast allegiance of a vengeful Kabrinian citizen and the skills of a powerful erudite, my outlook and my plan both had changed.

  Admittedly, it would have been nice to have more than a day to harness Sienn’s abilities. A little instruction from her would have been even better. But since closing our connection at Broc’s house, Sienn had shown no interest in reopening it—or looking in my direction. That left me to pick up what I could on my own.

  Spending hours reviewing her memories, I’d basically soaked up the gest of Sienn’s skills without having to practice a single step myself. I understood how to combat my father with spells he wouldn’t expect me to wield. I grasped how to conserve strength and keep myself conscious longer than ever before. The only thing I wasn’t able to absorb was diverting the cost of my spells. The process for that was more instinctive than learned. How I’d ever done it on my own was a mystery, as it had taken Sienn a considerable amount of training. It took time, patience, and concentration.

  Concentration, I could access in abundance through Jarryd’s keen sense of focus. Patience was something neither of us possessed a great deal of. Sienn had it. But that didn’t help me with the third element: time. I had none left. I was banking my entire offense on untested, borrowed magic and a temporary bond that could snap at any moment. It was irresponsible at best.

  But going in blind, without a trial run, was just plain foolish. I have to test it, I thought. And the perfect opportunity was staring me right in the face.

  I fixed my sights on the island. Slowing my breathing, I called to the fire agate on my wrist. I opened up, but didn’t pull it in. First, I closed my eyes and dove into the space where Sienn Nam’arelle rested inside me. Making use of her essence and her knowledge, I integrated my intent with the channel. I envisioned winding them together, so that as I narrowed one, the other complied. Then I let the agate in.

  Choking the path, compressing the aura’s entryway to more than a slender rivulet, I kept the flow of power to a trickle. The act wasn’t overly difficult. It was frustrating. Siphoning an infinitesimal stream, when I was used to drowning in it, fell drastically short of the invigorating experience I was familiar with.

  I suppose, though, that was the point. Lessening the physical reaction definitely made casting a lot less appealing. I could hardly even feel the magic in me. I wasn’t even sure I had enough, but I clamped off the current anyway and moved on to the next step: casting outside my blood-bound abilities.

  I had the stones. The spells weren’t a problem. Those I could glean from Sienn’s memories. The only real hurdle was me.

  Coming from a more personal source than most other lines, a soldier’s magic was reflexive, instinctive, and emotional. It was wrapped in pretty much every negative or base sentiment and behavior there’s a name for. Aggression, defiance, pride, lust, anger, bravado, brutality, vengeance, and more, were all a part of me and my craft. But they had no place in other kinds of magic. If I wanted to move beyond the limitations of my line, I had to expel them. I had to relinquish who I was.

  For help, I dug deep into Jarryd’s soul. I tapped into the well-honed sense of absorption and rapt focus that dominated his skill with a bow. I employed his strong sense of commitment and devotion, using it to isolate myself from the more selfish aspects of my personality. His ability to see to the heart of things became mine.

  From Sienn, I acquired her knack for curtailing emotion when she cast and used it to inhibit my own.

  Then, with the three of us united inside me, I breathed. Taking in Jarryd’s single-mindedness, his diligence and drive to excel with each inhale, as I exhaled I used Sienn’s tactic and released everything. Every emotion I draw upon when I pull a sword or cast a battle spell—hostility, rage, passion. I shed it all.

  The discharge was unbelievably quick and easy. In seconds I was clean. Blank. Unpolluted. I stared at Kabri’s beach and my perception of the world was drastically heightened. All I had to do was give attention to the torches sticking out of the sand and they became instantly tangible. I was an ocean away, and the wood against my skin was course. The fibers of the cloth were scratchy. Heat seared my skin. I breathed and the pitch was pungent.

  I condensed my awareness down to a single torch. I wrapped my will around the fire, and it didn’t burn me. There was no pain. It was a different kind of discomfort. The flames were spirited and volatile, akin to closing my hand over a swarm of angry bees.

  It wasn’t something I wanted to hold onto for long.

  Visualizing the outcome, I cast. I felt a jolt, a stinging pulse of hot energy that jumped and flitted frantically across my nerves. Like bees, I thought, gasping.

  There was an odd sensation. I opened my eyes and the aura was bleed
ing out of me. I was used to that. But I wasn’t used to a portion remaining inside, while the rest stretched and twisted away from me like a translucent length of magical rope.

  The aura reached across the water to the beach.

  The end made contact with the torch, connecting us. Like a bridge, I thought.

  I put my hand out and felt the flames in my grip. I squeezed. Sparks flew out from the top. Burning embers sailed into the darkening sky. Without direction, they fell harmlessly to the wet sand and snuffed out of existence.

  It worked, I thought. But I wasn’t done.

  Broadening my focus to include every torch on the beach, the rope sprouted branches and attached me to them. I opened and clenched my hand then, and as before, flames leapt. Only, this time, I held on. I aimed the fires in my grasp and sent them soaring with a whoosh onto the tops of the tents. Flames consumed the fabric hungrily. Instant bedlam broke out across the Langorian campsite and I smiled to myself.

  That’s more like it.

  Opening my grip, I released the fire and the rest of the agate. There was a slight haze around the edge of my vision, but I wasn’t blind. I saw the rope vanish and the dusk blaze orange. I saw the schools of dead fish rise up to float on the water. I endured no loss of strength whatsoever and the sudden waves of hot vibrations that swept through me were gone by the time they even registered as pleasurable.

  It was the most physically unsatisfying use of magic I had ever experienced.

  Still, I couldn’t argue with the results. Channeling as an erudite was far less disruptive. I felt charged. Confident. I was ready to try my hand at harder spells. I just needed someone to aim at.

  But he isn’t someone, I thought tensely. He’s my father.

  Footsteps plodded over the dunes behind me. I gave them my attention a moment, but no sooner had I rested a hand on my sword, I realized who it was; Jarryd’s gait was as familiar as my own. I couldn’t sense him though. I shut him out before entering Neela’s room last night and had yet to let him back in. The embarrassing, sordid details of my encounter with her aside, I didn’t think it wise to keep our connection open. With the coming fight (and our inexperience with the link), if one of us were injured, neither of us could afford the distraction.