by K K Ness
Sonnen motioned for Danil to kneel beside a vein of kiandrite as thick as his forearm. It startled Danil a little that such wealth could be left unharvested. With a rush of understanding, he realized the Amasians valued kiandrite far more than merely as crystals that powered their enchantments.
“What are we doing here, Sonnen?” Danil asked as he settled on the cool floor.
“People saw how the statue of Aramanth greeted you last night,” Sonnen said. He remained standing, his gaze sweeping over the platform. “It is important that more folk understand your connection to Corros and Amas.”
Following his gaze, it took Danil a moment to recognize Freyna seated on a bench on the opposite end of the training circles. A handful of older enchanters milled about her, while Viren sat at her side together with a middle-aged woman bearing an unfamiliar House glyph on her robe. The woman gave Freyna a sapling in a conical pot, her voice too distant to make out.
For his part, Viren appeared attentive to the conversation, but his ghostlike Trueform trotted toward Danil with alarming resolve.
“Place your hand on the kiandrite, Danil.”
Blinking his sight clear, Danil said, “Beg pardon?”
Sonnen’s golden eyes were unreadable. “It connects directly to the great lodestone of Corros, and cares little for enchanters or human mages,” he murmured. “Custodians are another matter.”
Danil took in a nearby training circle, where an enchanter watched with folded arms. She seemed not to notice the young boy behind her shifting into a pheasant and back again.
“It’s because some people think I can’t possibly be a custodian, right?” Danil asked, squinting up at Sonnen.
The dragon prince grunted. “Not everyone, but such people aren’t necessarily the ones who matter—not when it comes to Kailon.”
A slow anger built in Danil’s belly. Kailon was at risk, but he had to somehow prove his legitimacy.
Golden eyes fell on Danil. “What will you do to convince them, Custodian Danil?”
Anything, Danil thought. He set a hand on the vein. The kiandrite pulsed, turning gold to match the glyph on his palm. A flood of whispers filled his mind, together with an image of a immense crystal seated within a circular stone room. The whispers grew to a roar like wildfire in a forest. A still pool of water formed in his mind’s eye. Ash floated in the air above it, speckled with kiandrite turned red and foul.
Danil wrenched his hand back. His lungs burned as if he’d inhaled smoke.
The kiandrite vein flooded with light and released a hum so deep that it vibrated through the floor.
A yelp and the shattering of pottery rang out from the far side of the platform. A wide-leafed plant, six feet tall and with sprawling roots, stood where the sapling had been. Younglings and their enchanter teachers gaped, but Freyna remained seated and appeared wholly unsurprised. Sonnen smirked happily.
“Come here, Danil of Kailon,” Freyna called out.
Rising to his feet, Danil nervously wiped his hands on his breeches. He walked between the training circles to where Freyna sat. “Apologies, custodian,” he said, feeling eyes on him. “I may have broken your plant.”
Freyna’s dark eyes were filled with mirth. “Hardly that, my fellow custodian! You’ve made the gift from Councilor Liria even more princely.”
Startled, Danil wondered which House the middle-aged woman represented. She returned his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
“Of course, I’ll need help now to carry my gift to my personal grove,” Freyna added with a wink.
“I’d be happy to,” Danil stammered, flushing slightly.
Viren stepped forward and gave a smooth bow. “I offer my services as well, Custodian Freyna.”
Eyebrow crooked, Freyna glanced up at Sonnen. The dragon prince looked thoughtful before he nodded. Freyna beamed. “You’re most kind, Councilor,” she said. She motioned to a nearby enchanter, who magicked a large square of burlap. Danil helped move the plant with its delicate roots into the makeshift carrying sack.
“I’ll join you shortly,” Sonnen said when Danil was done, turning to speak to Freyna.
Clearly a dismissal, Danil joined Viren in hefting the plant and carrying it off the platform. They navigated the stairwell, pausing at the edge of a causeway.
“I don’t know the way to the grove,” Danil admitted.
“And I don’t give a damn about an overgrown weed,” Viren said dryly. He set down his side, forcing Danil to release the plant as well.
The Eyrie councilor studied him with green eyes so like Hafryn’s that Danil felt a moment of disorientation. He resisted the urge to step back.
“Parlor tricks might turn a few heads, human, but you’ll need to do something more substantial to secure the High Council’s aid.”
Danil blinked. “Beg pardon?”
“Being a custodian is not enough.” Viren eyed him critically. “I’d expected you to be better prepared.”
“I handled things well in Kailon,” Danil countered. He wondered if Viren knew of the Eyrie assassin after all.
Viren sniffed. “Perhaps so, but your helpers have failed you here.”
He stiffened at that. “Do you mean Sonnen? Or your cousin?”
“I’ll get a measure of Hafryn during the rites tomorrow.” Viren smiled slightly. “But you, custodian—if you wish the High Council to be on your side, you’d best present a more inviting offer than the Roldaerian emissary.”
“And I suppose you already know what Arlyn is after,” Danil muttered.
“You flew in with her—I’d hoped Hafryn at least would have taken advantage of that time to glean her terms.”
Danil scowled.
Viren shook his head in disappointment. “Not everyone on the High Council wants to treat with Roldaer, but the alternative isn’t particularly…inspiring. Leylines notwithstanding, no House wants to send their people to die on a ruined tract of land that is better left forgotten to our darkest histories.”
Gritting his teeth, Danil said, “Thank you for making your stance clear.”
“Don’t presume to know the Eyrie, human. That will be your last mistake.”
Viren left him there on the causeway. Not even his wolf Trueform looked back.
12
Hafryn returned as night fell over the citadel. Dusty and frowning, his pace slowed at the sight of Danil alone outside, leaning against the balustrade.
A flock of birds circled the neighboring spire, and Danil idly wondered if they were shifters as they wheeled down to the lake far below. He turned from the balcony to study Hafryn.
“Let me guess,” Hafryn said, the chill breeze pulling at his cloak. “Your day was as unsuccessful as mine.”
“That’s a way to describe it,” Danil said sourly. Other than the occasional greeting, no Councilor appeared willing to talk to him at length about the future of Kailon. He sighed disconsolately. “No luck in finding who ordered the assassin’s contract, then?”
Hafryn shook his head. “I wasn’t able to speak to the former Eyrie Keeper—it appears she’s parted ways with the folk of Corros.”
Danil raised an eyebrow, supposing murder among their own kind wasn’t much of a stretch for the Eyrie.
“She’s not dead, fala,” Hafryn said, clearly having read something in Danil’s expression. “Just returned to Eyrie.”
“How inconvenient,” Danil replied with another sigh.
Hafryn gave a huff and waved his hand dismissively. “I’m barely started. There are plenty enough people to badger and bribe. If the clues are here, we’ll find them.” He settled beside Danil, fingers tapping on the smooth stone. “I’m guessing Sonnen didn’t take you much outside of this spire.”
Danil nodded. The citadel was far more expansive than he’d expected. Throughout the day, as Sonnen had taken him on a wandering path through the towers, they’d come upon various members of the High Council. Most were polite, almost painfully so while under Sonnen’s eye. But Danil couldn’
t help but wonder how many were allies he could count upon to protect Kailon.
“The High Council were—” Danil struggled for the words. “Difficult to impress.”
Hafryn snorted. “No surprise there, fala. They perch so high up in their towers that they forget what it means to actually have to fight for anything important.” He studied Danil’s bleak profile. “Let’s not worry about the High Council tonight, hmn? There’s a place I think you’d enjoy.”
Weary and a little despondent, Danil nonetheless nodded.
Hafryn took him on a wandering course down to a lower keep, where its roof was flat but lined with battlements. Amasians took their ease in the cool night air, with a handful of vendors selling cooked meats and pockets of bread stuffed with pickled vegetables and spices.
To Danil’s surprise, a number of Amasians waved or smiled in greeting.
“Custodian.”
“Bright evening to you both,” another said as she strolled past.
Danil noticed folk wearing enchanter robes milling amongst the crowd. They nodded to him in greeting. No one appeared finely dressed, with laborers and guards mixing with younglings and families. Danil’s vision shifted to reveal a variety of ghostly Trueforms gamboling, lounging and prancing across the rooftop.
He turned about in a slow circle. This was what he’d expected to find in Corros—not the stiff neutrality of councilors and elites.
A young girl abruptly ran up to Danil and snared his arm. “You’re him!” she breathed, her blue eyes dancing. A little blackbird Trueform flitting excitedly in the air above her. “Mama, he made the verisa tree in the training grounds grow a hundred feet tall!”
Hafryn raised an amused eyebrow as Danil stammered and flushed.
“Oh, no, I—”
A woman with blond hair bound in twin braids came to fetch the girl. “Leave off with him, Perena. Let the custodian have some peace.”
“She’s no trouble,” Danil said to the woman.
Perena beamed up at him. “I’m going to be an enchanter. Mama says you don’t have many in Kailon and need all the help you can get!”
“Perena!” the woman hissed, cheeks reddening.
Danil crouched until he was eye level with the young girl. “Sadly, your mama has the right of it, but some of my greatest friends are enchanters—they’re among the bravest and most loyal people I know.”
Perena nodded as if it was no surprise.
“Together, we are doing the best we can to protect the new leylines in Kailon. I’m sure you’ll make a great enchanter one day,” Danil added. “When you are older and trained and have your mother’s permission, of course, I’d more than welcome your aid in protecting Kailon.”
She squealed with delight and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I will,” she promised. “Mama says it’s a great honor to serve a first custodian.” Glancing at him and Hafryn, she asked with excited eyes, “Will you light the lanterns with us?”
Danil threw a confused look at Hafryn.
“It’s a nightly practice here in Corros,” Hafryn explained. “Enchanters each release a magelight, while those of us without such gifts or aren’t proficient yet—” He gave Perena a wink. “Fire off our own lantern. It signifies that we all have a place in Corros.”
A sudden lump grew in Danil’s throat at the thought of such easy belonging. “It sounds wonderful,” he managed as he smiled down at the girl.
Perena brightened again as she tugged his hand. “This way! You can use my brother’s lantern. He’s working in the kitchens tonight.” She peered at Hafryn following bemusedly behind them with the girl’s mother and wavered. “You can have mine, if you like.”
Hafryn pressed a hand to his heart and bowed. “You’re most generous, little enchanter, but if it’s alright, Danil and I might share.”
The young girl shrugged in agreement. She reached a blanket stretched out on the roof, where a man of a similar age to Hafryn sat with a baby heavily wrapped in swaddling cloths. With an easy smile, the man handed Danil a small square of blue paper.
“Bright evening to you, custodian,” the man nodded respectfully.
“And to you,” Danil replied.
“Here,” Hafryn said, showing how to open the lantern. There was a faint iridescent sheen to the paper. “Fire will activate it. Ah—right on time.”
Danil turned to see Freyna walk amidst the crowd. Plainly dressed in a grey robe and her white hair free about her face, she fit well amongst the gathering. In her cupped hands sat a tiny flame. As she passed, Amasians dipped their paper lanterns into the fire before hurtling them skywards. They caught alight with a soft ‘puff’ before transforming into showers of brightly colored light that fell harmlessly over the rooftop and onto the surrounding spires.
Enchanters released magelights into the air to dance and whizz about the burning lanterns. Similar showers of light came from the surrounding towers.
“Your lanterns, if you please.”
Danil startled to see Freyna paused in front of him.
The custodian smiled, the lines about her eyes crinkling. She lowered her hands to allow Perena easy access to the flame. With a delighted squeal, the girl took off running, the burning lantern held aloft as it shot out sparks across the roof.
“It won’t cause burns,” Hafryn said, watching the young girl with amusement. “Great for pranks, though.”
“Of which you have yet to grow out of,” Freyna observed, though her voice was fond.
Danil’s gaze caught on a particularly bright shower of hot pink and orange as it burst overhead. “You do this every night?”
“It’s one of my great pleasures,” Freyna said. She held the flame aloft. “Light your lantern, Danil of Kailon. Tomorrow, we shall talk.”
Swallowing, Danil tilted the blue paper into the fire. The edge caught, and he handed it to Hafryn. With a grin, Hafryn hurled it into the air. A few heartbeats later, it burst into streamers of gold and red. A magelight buzzed around the changing lights before flitting off.
Smiling, Freyna said, “Enjoy your night.” She melted back into the crowd, leaving bursts of light and laughter in her wake.
Danil and Hafryn settled onto the shared blanket as more Amasians took seats around them and watched the bursting lanterns long into the night.
13
The following morning, Danil woke to Hafryn climbing across the fur pallet. Half asleep, he grabbed a handful of tunic and tugged the shifter close. His mouth found the soft underside of Hafryn’s throat.
Hafryn chuckled in his ear. “Tempting, fala, but we have company.”
That woke him fully. Danil peered over Hafryn’s shoulder to the partition leading into the central living space. He saw a pair of small, woman-sized boots. He flailed. “Off, off,” he whispered, whacking Hafryn’s shoulder.
The wolf obligingly rose onto one elbow, green eyes bright with amusement. “She’s here for you.”
Danil rolled off the pallet and hurriedly grabbed his tunic. “You couldn’t have woken me sooner?” he hissed.
“I enjoy you in my bed, fala,” Hafryn said, unabashedly watching as Danil struggled into his breeches. The wolf was already fully dressed, boots and all.
With a snort, Danil tucked his crystal under his tunic before leaning in to plant his mouth over Hafryn’s. He pulled back to see the wolf’s eyes drift shut. “You’ll be safe today, yes?”
“Hmm, you have my word the ritual’s nothing I haven’t experienced before,” Hafryn said. He sprawled back across the furs, his hands tucked behind his head.
Danil eyed him. “That’s hardly reassuring—I know you, wolf.”
“It appears so.” Hafryn schooled his face to innocence. “I might learn something of interest today. That’s far more important, in my opinion.”
With a sigh, Danil asked, “Come find me when you’re done?”
“Of course.”
Danil entered the living quarters to see Freyna comfortably seated on the couch by the fire. He sketched a
quick bow. “I apologize for the wait, honored custodian.”
“These old bones demand I sleep less than I should.” She rose with a smile. “And youth has its own demands.”
Dani fought not to blush. “Yes, honored custodian.”
“Freyna, Danil, as we agreed.”
“Yes, Freyna.”
“I understand you have seen a little of our great citadel. Considering events over the past few days, we shall visit a few of my favored places.”
Danil smiled. “I’d like that.”
They stepped out into the hallway before taking windings steps cut into the cliff. The valley spread out below them, with waterfalls a dull roar in the distance. Cloud hung low over the peaks, and Danil’s gaze turned instinctively east toward the deadlands. He could sense the leylines contentedly pulsing under his skin.
“You called the deadlands Kailon,” Danil said. “Does that mean something?”
Freyna ran her hand along the railing. “It’s an old Amasian word. Loosely translated, it means ‘to stand between,’” she said, her dark eyes studying the peaks. “Before the Great War, it had been the trading hub between our two kingdoms.”
Danil sensed again the pull of the leylines and felt a sudden yearning. “What happened to its custodian? During the war, I mean?”
The bottom of the stairs opened onto a small platform.
“You are Kailon’s first custodian, Danil. There were no leylines to speak of running through the area, not before Kaul played his part in making the wellspring.” Freyna shook her head. “It gives reason to so much disquiet among the High Council. Leylines have formed where they should not, under land made dead and quiet. And now they are busily reforming that land, under the guidance of a young human. People are uncertain.”
“Are you?” Danil asked before he could stop himself.
She smiled, the seams about her eyes deepening. “I can feel the strength in your leylines, Danil. That is cause for celebration, not apprehension.”
The tension refused to leave his shoulders. “I’m guessing there aren’t many on the High Council who like humans.”