by Lakshman, V.
Then the vista spread before him pulled at his eyes and demanded his attention. The sight took his breath away. In the distance was an orange-yellow sun, darker and bigger than the one he was used to on Edyn. It lit the sky in its setting light, painting the tops of clouds pink and gold. Floating serenely in the blue skies around them were islands of land, thousands upon thousands, each drifting peacefully above the blanket of clouds that extended like a landscape from horizon to horizon.
“This is Lilyth’s realm? It’s just islands floating…”
“Certainly not what I expected.”
Ash didn’t look back to acknowledge Silbane. The man sounded like he’d recovered from whatever had overcome him by holding that other angelic form he and Kisan had gained since coming here, and right now he didn’t trust himself to speak to the master with any civility.
The absurdity of it all, of living through the attack of the Aeris by falling into a sea of floating islands… A small laugh erupted, the only way he could think to alleviate the stress. He looked down at his hands: clean, though he’d just been through the thick of a battle no less brutal than any other he’d fought. Then he looked back out over the expanse of clouds that seemed to make up what this world called “land.”
He breathed in a deep lungful of air and exhaled, then said, “If we’re going to find anyone in all this, we’re going to need a miracle.”
A Diplomat’s Blade
Let them stab, strike;
Let them come with all their might.
With every swing and turn;
They fall on your waiting sword, eager for death.
- Kensei Tsao, The Lens of Blades
Again? Do you not tire of this?” Legate Ellis Tir opined, clearly frustrated. He pulled his crimson robe closer, peering at Queen Yevaine Galadine with the distinct amber eyes characteristic of those noble born to House Tir.
“What did you expect?” she answered. “Sycophants and schemers.”
Her mailed sleeves jingled as she adjusted her armor, a reminder to these courtiers that she was born with blade in hand. They had been granted audience with the Senate two times already to petition aid for Bara’cor, and had twice been denied. Part of her longed to tell Captain Kalindor to take the city and put these politicians to the sword.
Still, the peace was fragile but beneficial to the land. Her husband had earned it, and it would not fall upon her to undo what he had done.
She pushed her way past the legate but asked, “I still have your support?”
“Always,” he responded, “but unless you have something new, their answer will be the same. This time, though, they may have you held.”
“Let them try,” she said, her mood dark. Then she addressed the other man escorting her, “You’ll accompany me into the hall.” She took a turn and found herself going the wrong way. Reorienting herself, she headed for the great hall.
Captain Tyrus Kalindor nodded, his gray hair pulled back into a tight tail. One eye of piercing blue shone from beneath a trim brow. The other, or what was left of it, sat behind a black eye patch with the golden lion of House Galadine stamped upon it. He did not hesitate at the unusual request, but replied with an unexpected and almost melodious baritone of a bard’s voice, “Of course, I will be wherever you are, my queen.”
Legate Tir spun and hurried to catch up, coming to Yevaine’s other side. “Please tell me you’re not going to challenge Spaiten again.”
“The Legate of Dawnlight has a special dislike for me,” she replied, still heading for the Senatorial Hall. She found herself facing an unknown corridor, as the myriad of halls and hallways within the great senate building confounded her yet again.
A gentle pull from Kalindor set her on the right path. The man’s family had the gift of mapsense, an unerring ability to find a path to a thing, if that thing were known. “You’ll make a wonderful aide,” remarked the queen. The man harrumphed, ignoring her comment, choosing instead to answer her statement about Spaiten.
“What do you expect?” Kalindor asked. “He’s in charge of Dawnlight’s interests now and they’re not always aligned with those of Bara’cor.”
“Do not our soldiers who stand at the walls of Bara’cor also hold the horde from Haven’s green fields?” she replied, frustration clear in her voice.
“No word from Dawnlight, not in a fortnight. Then the explosion at Land’s Edge. Do you think those soldiers still live?” Ellis turned to Kalindor and continued, “What of Prince Niall, and my niece? I fear the worst for them and Edyn if we have lost King Galadine and two heirs.”
The captain didn’t answer, instead he reached out and put a gentle hand on his queen’s arm, slowing her headlong charge. When they stopped, he looked around to be sure they were alone, then offered, “You’re Queen of Bara’cor, but do not forget you’re also King Aeonian’s daughter. Ill thoughts brew with your arrival here in Haven.”
Legate Tir, now emboldened by Kalindor’s support, added, “Your father has not been heard from in some time. Spaiten has declared him lost and secured his position as Dawnlight’s regent, as has Algren Justeces for Shornhelm.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I could do the same for EvenSea, but am not so eager to set aside my brother’s crown. It seems... ill-mannered.”
Yevaine regarded the two, both trusted men and loyal to Bara’cor and House Galadine, despite their current disagreement. Then she let go of a breath she had not realized she’d held and looked at the man she had known for the better part of her life. “You have always been a stalwart friend, Ellis, and our bickering is unseemly. We ask your pardon.”
A moment passed, then Kalindor also stepped back and bowed to the legate, his fist to his chest. “Your pardon, though it felt a bit like our sparring days back at the academy,” he added with a chuckle.
Ellis Tir also bowed, shaking his head and placing a conciliatory hand on each of their shoulders. “I recall you getting the better of me then, and now. These are trying times.” He was quiet for a moment, then looked at the queen apologetically. “I do not mean to focus on my own concerns, but how’s my niece? Does she fare well under the siege?”
“Yetteje was fine when I left. This war is forcing everyone to grow up fast, but the girl has grit.”
Ellis nodded slowly, almost to himself. “You should see her practicing,” he said with the half smile of a fond memory. “I used to call her ‘Tir’s Kitten’ when she was a child, but put steel in her hands now and she’ll run a man through.”
The queen took the legate’s hand from her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “The future of both our Houses is at Bara’cor. They cannot be abandoned.”
The legate took a deep breath and said, “I agree, and my concern is not purely familial. There are direr things afoot.”
“Such as?” inquired the queen.
A frown replaced the smile and he said, “They will seek to declare King Galadine lost.”
Kalindor turned to the legate and asked, “Why, and why this rush to declare regents? That serves no one.”
“Not for your immediate problem,” Ellis replied, “but unlike legates, regents may act without royal sanction in the name of their House. There’s a longer game being played here.”
Kalindor cursed. “What schemes do these regents harbor?”
Legate Tir looked around as if to reassure himself of their privacy, then said, “If the four kings are declared lost and there’s no proof of life for the heirs, it confers rule to the regents.”
The captain held his breath, his single eye glinting dangerously in the torchlight. “They would dare usurp House Galadine?”
“Dare?” asked the legate. “The law is archaic, but designed to keep succession intact. As decreed by ancient Galadine rule it falls to the next male heir. By declaring Bernal lost they also effectively seal the fate of my House. If he has perished—”
“Hold your tongue,” snapped the queen. “My husband’s very much alive.”
“If he and your son have perished,” conti
nued the legate in a firm but not unkind voice, “rule will fall to the regents, led by the Chancellor of Haven. The regents will determine who rules next from the surviving heirs of the four great noble Houses, according to the ancient Laws of Succession.”
“And who’s next in line?” asked Captain Kalindor.
An uncomfortable silence followed, into which Ellis Tir finally said, “As I’m the only confirmed living male, it would fall to me, and House Tir.”
Kalindor’s one eye squinted. “You would raise yourself—”
“Do you think they will allow rule to pass to me?” interrupted the Legate of EvenSea in exasperation. “I will not live long enough to even see the Imperial Crown! My loyalties to House Galadine have always been clear.”
Yevaine sighed, then turned to Kalindor and said, “Ellis is right, with Bernal gone, they only need to censure me and silence him. We must take decisive action if we are to survive this day. Summon our personal guard.”
She thought for a moment, and something the legate had said earlier about heirs and succession had stuck with her. Motioning to the legate to come closer, she took a moment to frame her thoughts, then carefully inquired, “If Princess Yetteje was here, who would speak for House Tir?”
“She would, as ranking noble in the direct line of succession. Though she cannot hold the Imperial Crown her claim to Tir’s throne supersedes mine,” Ellis answered. “Why?”
The queen nodded to herself, her eyes faraway as she fell deep in thought. Given what the legate had said, it was certain the regents would use the law to wrest control from the Houses. It was also just as certain their lives hung in the balance, yet the law itself might offer them a slim hope.
Then she focused and met Ellis’s concerned look, her gaze narrowing. “Explain the Laws of Succession to me again, this time in detail.”
* * * * *
Algren Justeces sat at one end of the semi-circular table in the Senatorial Hall. The chamber was large, designed to accommodate the public for hearings on matters of state. It was square, but rounded on the end from where he and the other legates officiated, with vertical columns set on either side framing a central seating area arranged into long parallel benches.
Stationed at each column were soldiers wearing the crimson and white of Haven’s elite Praetorians. They stood impassive, like living statues, sworn to uphold and defend the Senate with their very lives.
“You seem wistful,” remarked a deep voice to Algren’s right.
He turned to face Merric Spaiten and said, “No, just thinking.” Algren adjusted his seat and leaned back. “The queen comes before us a third time and my heart regrets what we must do.”
Spaiten pursed his lips and nodded. “No word from the Kings of the Wastes, save Bernal sending his wife to beg for aid at the expense of Haven’s defense. We both know what must be done.”
Algren nodded slowly and said, “Perhaps, yet in my heart I dread it. The power to destroy Land’s Edge... rumors of demonkind and dark magics, specters of sorrow that hunt our children again.”
“Which is why we must act and hold this line. Captain Kalindor and his company are vital to the defense of the city.”
“And the queen?”
Spaiten took a deep breath and looked around, then leaned in close to his co-conspirator. “Think... the last few weeks have seen events unfold accomplishing things we never could. House Aeonian and Cadan have not been heard from and are declared lost. The Imperial King has undoubtedly perished in the explosion that crumbled Land’s Edge and along with him the heirs to both House Galadine and Tir.” He smiled, his eyes meeting Algren’s and his hand clasping the older man’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “We take what life brings us, no? This time it is a fresh start, and our hands are clean.”
“What of Ellis?” asked the regent quietly, though he knew the answer.
Merric’s eyes narrowed. “The Great Houses are gone, Algren, and the remnants must be swept away. Do not worry, you will soon be King of Shornhelm and a new House Justeces will rise to replace House Cadan. It has been arranged, but stay true.”
A trumpet sounded then, signaling the arrival of the queen and her party, and the great double doors to the Senatorial Hall opened. The Queen of Bara’cor entered, flanked by Captain Kalindor and Legate Tir. Behind them came sixteen knights, her elite personal guard.
“Hail Imperial Queen Yevaine of House Galadine,” cried the herald. “Hail Captain Tyrus of House Kalindor and Legate Ellis of House Tir.”
* * * * *
As the herald announced the party the two members of the Senate rose and bowed. They were joined by the Chancellor of Haven, Finras Tyn, a tall man with dark eyes. His body was thin, the product of a lifetime of managing bureaucracy from behind a desk. He knew he was no warrior, but prided himself on his adherence to the laws of Edyn, the only thing, in his mind, separating his people from savages.
He entered from a door behind the officiating table and slowly made his way to the center chair. The regents of Dawnlight and Shornhelm arranged themselves to his left and right, respectively.
Even as the party moved to the central floor, Legate Tir bowed and circled around, coming to take his place at the table next to Regent Justeces. The only unoccupied chair left was the one for the Legate of Bara’cor, which the queen now ostensibly held to cast her single vote. However, since she was a petitioner, she kept her place on the central dais and faced the men who would now decide her fate along with that of Bara’cor.
Chancellor Tyn was a man of few words, pragmatic and focused on the safeguarding of Haven. His family had been instrumental in recognizing the Galadine’s imperial rule of the land, a structure he knew was necessary to keep the peace, however archaic. Though they were a monarchy, having the Senate balance divine right with elective appeal had been a necessary step to a more modern and mature government, at least in his mind.
Though he sympathized with the queen’s plight, he had not voted with her. He would not leave Haven unguarded and as such had watched her lose her last petitions two votes to three. It never occurred to him that letting Bara’cor fall would likely seal Haven’s fate as well, for the chancellor prided himself on the indispensable task of refined governance and law. That the crude and lowly matters of battle, mud, and blood could have any bearing on his city was a messy detail far below his refined sensibilities.
Now the queen was here a third time and his patience had begun to wear thin, even for Her Royal Highness. He put a hand to his forehead, then met her steely gaze with one just as unflinching and said, “Your business this time, Your Majesty?”
“I wish to take your leave, Chancellor.” Her voice came out strong and direct, with no trace of doubt. In fact, it was this directness that took him by surprise.
Tyn narrowed his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
“I wish to take my leave, Your Grace. My husband has need of Captain Kalindor and his Company, and it is clear Haven will not extend its hand. I must hurry back to reinforce him. We only ask for the benevolence to leave behind the young and elderly in Haven.”
Merric Spaiten rose and said, “We cannot allow Haven to lose your men for her defense, Your Majesty. Bara’cor is lost.”
“Bara’cor stands. Only the pass has been damaged,” challenged the queen.
“The explosion leveled half of Land’s Edge!” exclaimed the regent, looking at the queen as if she had lost her mind. He turned to the chancellor and continued, “It centered on Bara’cor. What could be left?”
Chancellor Tyn looked back at the queen and said, “Yevaine, I sympathize with—”
“You will address me as Queen Galadine or Your Majesty, Chancellor. Let us not forget we are noble born.” She looked pointedly at the two regents, who seemed to shrink back at that.
The chancellor paused, then continued, “Your Majesty, I sympathize with your predicament but Regent Spaiten is correct. The explosion was heard halfway to Sun Tree. What could have survived? Do you have proof of life
?”
Yevaine dropped her head, her eyes closed. “He’s alive and I mean to take my men and find him. There are other ways up the pass known to us—ancient ways.”
Regent Justeces stood and cleared his throat. He looked pained and uncomfortable to be speaking and began haltingly, “Your Royal Highness... we must focus on the living, those here in Haven. Surely whatever destroyed Bara’cor will come here next. We cannot allow you to take... to leave with men necessary for our defense.”
“As long as he’s alive I will exercise my right and command my men under the Imperial King’s name.”
Ellis Tir then stepped forward and said, “You know I have always been a loyal supporter of House Galadine... but in this circumstance I must agree with my colleagues.”
Raised eyebrows from the other regents greeted that, but before any could respond Captain Kalindor shouted, “You scheming traitor! You lie in wait then switch sides for convenience! King Galadine lives and she commands in his name!”
“Not if he’s declared dead,” Ellis said, almost to himself. Then a chagrined look came across his face and he stepped back, his eyes downcast.
Merric’s eyes widened as he immediately caught Legate Tir’s error and what it meant. Wheels must have turned quickly in his mind. He looked at the queen and pounced. “House Galadine has made the Laws of Succession quite clear.”
Yevaine’s eyes darted to Ellis, contempt on her face. “The Laws of Succession are archaic and without merit. My husband had planned to repeal them in favor of more enlightened views.”
“Be that as it may,” Merric said, “the current laws are still in force and quite clear. It is all that keeps war between the Great Houses at bay and we will not dispense with it so haphazardly in light of the rumors of demons and rifts. The succession of the Imperial Crown goes to the next male heir of noble birth.”
“And just who might that be?” demanded the queen, looking at Merric. “Not you, certainly.”
Chancellor Tyn thought for a moment then said, “Without proof of life from Bara’cor, Shornhelm, EvenSea, or Dawnlight, succession would fall to... Legate Ellis Tir.” He looked at the man with a bemused expression, almost a half-smile.