by Lucy Hounsom
‘Will it not tax you to send us both?’ Kyndra asked Ma.
‘Yes. But we have our anchor.’ She nodded at Shune. ‘I can maintain the connection with his help.’ Ma gestured at the disturbed sand, scattered in the eldest’s wake. ‘I will copy the eldest’s signature so I can send you to the same hour he travelled to. We have talked too long.’
‘Wait.’ Veeta held up a hand. ‘I do not understand any of this. You speak of Solinaris, of going back in time. It is impossible.’
‘I can’t promise to explain it well to you,’ Brégenne said. ‘But I will try. Right now, Kyndra has to go.’
‘You would leave us to face a threat as great as this Iresonté without our chief weapon?’ Gend’s deep voice was disbelieving. ‘You say the army is thirty thousand strong. There are perhaps seventy of us who can fight and only during the hours our power is active. How are we supposed to succeed without a Starborn’s help?’
‘We have other allies to call upon.’ Brégenne nodded at Char. ‘Your people?’
He nodded. ‘Sesh has already agreed to help.’
‘And Iresonté will get no reinforcement from her northern army,’ Brégenne continued. ‘Gareth reports they were defeated. He and Ümvast are marching south as we speak.’
‘I am not sure we want his “help”,’ Magnus said darkly, touching his scarred jaw.
‘We are not in a position to refuse it.’ Brégenne looked once more at Kyndra. ‘Go.’
Since Ma deemed it safer to perform the ritual outside the confines of the citadel, Char had to squeeze himself back through the passage. The rest of the Lleu-yelin gathered outside. Beside her, Brégenne felt Veeta stiffen at the sight of them. Even Gend’s stony face cracked into an expression of awe. They were wondrous, as if they’d stepped out of the pages of a storybook. Veeta let loose a sigh. ‘I did not think to ever witness such a thing.’
‘Brégenne,’ Kyndra said, leading her forward. ‘This is Sesh, who speaks for the Lleu-yelin.’
Brégenne had to crane her neck to look into the pointed face of the dragon rider. Sesh was tawny bronze, her scales shielded by fine mesh armour. When she opened her mouth to speak, Brégenne couldn’t help but notice the alarming length of her canines. ‘Well met, Wielder. The Starborn claims to trust you with her life.’
She was temporarily at a loss for words. ‘I am honoured,’ Brégenne said finally with a surprised glance at Kyndra. ‘And I will be honoured to fight alongside you.’
An explosive rumble ended their exchange. ‘I will not permit it,’ snapped a female voice and Brégenne turned to look. A huge black dragon confronted Char, horned head lowered angrily.
‘Mother,’ Char said, ‘I must. This world, this future, depends on stopping the eldest. Kyndra cannot shoulder that burden alone.’
‘I have only just found you.’ It was difficult to discern in the deep thunder of the dragon’s voice, but Brégenne thought she heard tears. ‘I will not lose you again.’
Char lowered his head to hers. ‘I do not wish to cause you pain. But I must do this. It is important to me. There are things for which I must make amends however I might.’ He added something, somewhat haltingly, in a sibilant language Brégenne couldn’t understand.
‘Ekaar.’ One of the riders put a large hand on the dragon’s leg. ‘Let him go.’
She swung around. ‘We might never see him again, Arvaka. Do you not care about our only offspring?’
‘Of course I care. But Orkaan is a risling now. He is free to make his choices.’
Ekaar was silent. Then, slowly, she turned back to Char. ‘If you do not return,’ she said in a low hiss, ‘I will never forgive you, Orkaan.’
Char took a step back. Brégenne didn’t blame him. Ekaar was a trembling thing of fury and grief, as if she had already lost him. Char looked away from her. ‘I’m ready.’
‘I envy you,’ Realdon Shune said, longing in his cracked voice. ‘To walk the crystal halls again, to stand in the tower of the Sentheon and hear the night song of the Lunar birds as they wake.’ Memory misted his eyes. ‘Even on the eve of her fall, Solinaris kept her glory.’
Char crouched so that Kyndra could climb on. ‘Don’t let go of us, Ma,’ she said and for the first time since she’d accepted the mantle of Starborn, Brégenne heard a sliver of fear in her voice. Ma nodded. She and Char looked at each other and something passed between them, something deeper, Brégenne thought, than any emotion that had passed between Char and Ekaar.
‘Good luck,’ Brégenne said, feeling Nediah come to stand beside her. Together they watched as Ma spread her hands and white light webbed Kyndra and Char. The strands of it joined all four of them – Ma and Shune too – and the old man’s face twisted. Brégenne thought she heard bells and the rushing of water. The light became blinding, forcing her to close her eyes against it. When she opened them, Kyndra and Char were gone.
37
Kyndra
Flying. She crosses the crystal floor, seeing facets of herself in its endless reflections. Her mind is made up. This can only end one way, the way it’s supposed to – the way it already has. That it took her so long to realize …
Falling. Her footfalls echo on the glass. The tower beckons and her destiny. She cannot outrun it, for she has already faced it. And yet it abides, still incomplete, waiting for her to face it once again.
The endless rushing; a terrible rolling river that tumbled her and Char like leaves in high wind. Char: she clung to his back, her fingers seizing up on the black scales. He roared his own protest, as they were thrown through the maelstrom of time. And then her fingers slipped, for there were no scales to grip, no broad back to support her. They both fell, clinging to each other for dear life.
The impact forced the breath from her lungs, shattering the black dream that had been so clear a moment ago. For a few wild seconds, all Kyndra could see was darkness. She blinked, gasped in air, and slowly her sight returned. She was lying on grass, the scent of it strong and green in her nose: stems broken under her weight. She groaned, trying to shuffle her thoughts into order.
Another groan came from nearby and she realized there were legs tangled in hers. Heart pounding, Kyndra rolled over. It was just Char though, shaking his grey head, raising himself up on grey-skinned hands.
Reality hit a moment later. ‘Ma was right,’ she gasped. ‘You’re not a dragon.’
Char blinked. He flexed his fists, ran fingers over his face and chest. ‘This is so impossible.’ He looked just as he had when she’d first met him, everything from headscarf to desert garb to kali sticks. Kyndra watched as he reached down and drew them reverently out of their scabbard.
‘Can you still use ambertrix?’
Char frowned. ‘I don’t think so. I can feel something in my chest, but it’s like it used to be. Uncontrolled.’
Kyndra grimaced. ‘We’ll have to rely on those sticks and our wits, then.’
Char grinned. ‘Just like old times.’
She was about to reply when suddenly he took her arm. ‘Kyndra, look.’
It rose like a mirage, a glittering edifice of glass and light. Pennants flew from its topmost spires, snapping in the wind. So high, they seemed to merge with the heavens. Kyndra felt a soaring in her heart. Solinaris: the fortress of the sun. The rush of emotion told her more plainly than the absent void that she was just Kyndra again. She felt a peculiar mix of dread and … relief.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Char whispered. ‘It can’t be real.’
‘I read stories,’ Kyndra said, equally quiet. ‘Glimpsed it in visions. But neither can compare.’ She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away. ‘We’re really here.’
As they watched, mesmerized, the sun emerged from a cloud, igniting the citadel, setting the walls aflame. The sight abruptly doused Kyndra’s wonder. She imagined the Sartyan cannons belching smoke, staining the glass black – that glass would melt, catching the Wielders in crystal death. ‘Come on.’ She heard sadness in her voice, knowing what awaited the citadel and unable to
change its fate. ‘Let’s get closer.’
When she tried to stand up, using her one good arm, her legs shook beneath her. A wave of weakness rolled through Kyndra and she found herself panting. ‘Kyndra.’ Char steadied her. There was concern in his eyes when they studied her paling face. ‘Is it the curse?’
She nodded. ‘It’s moving faster now. We need to hurry.’
They walked downhill – though Kyndra’s walk was more of a limp – keeping low when they could, always on the lookout for watchers. The afternoon grew brighter, until Kyndra could hardly bear to look at Solinaris, so radiant it became. Facets trapped the light; a thousand suns blazing behind the glass. ‘It’s not just for show,’ she murmured, studying the caged light through narrowed eyes, the way it moved like liquid inside its transparent prison. ‘The whole citadel is an akan – an object Wielders use to store energy,’ she added when Char raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘Ingenious. I wonder what other knowledge was lost when Solinaris fell.’
Char was looking at her, slightly askance. ‘I’m still me,’ she said with a sigh. ‘As inconvenient as it is.’
‘It’s not inconvenient to me,’ he said with an intensity that made her blush. As they began walking again, Kyndra raised a surreptitious hand to her cheek, wondering at the heat beneath her fingers.
The glare off the citadel hid the workers until Kyndra and Char were nearly on top of them. Char grabbed her in warning and they hastily fell back. There were around fifty – ordinary people, by the looks of their rough shirts, fussing around wagons. Each face was a fog of fear and resentment and they glanced frequently to the west. Kyndra squinted; it looked as if a metal tide advanced across the land. Her heart began to race. ‘Sartya,’ she whispered. They were almost upon the citadel. Exclamations spread through the workers and the activity became frenzied. ‘Stockpiling supplies.’ Kyndra nodded at the rolling wagons, the crack of the whip that quickened the oxen’s lumbering pace. ‘For the siege.’
Char’s yellow eyes widened. ‘Are we in time?’
‘Yes, but we need to get inside. Kierik’s memories of this day are foggy. Medavle laid his trap in the archives; Kierik activated it when he stole the knowledge of how to destroy the Yadin. The attack began after he addressed the Sentheon.’ She shook her head, a deep regret in her bones. ‘Solinaris’s final day.’
Kyndra let her gaze stray upward, though it hurt her eyes. ‘Kierik will climb to the tallest tower.’ A flash of image came to her, something she’d dreamed – her own feet climbing a glittering stair – and then it was gone.
‘Kyndra?’ Char touched her arm. ‘Are you all right?’
She gave her head a shake, hoping to dislodge the memories threatening to envelop her – memories from a man who hadn’t yet made them, her memories from a confrontation she hadn’t yet had … ‘I’m fine. All this – it really is confusing.’
‘I’m glad you think so too,’ Char said wryly.
They were silent for a time. Then Kyndra, studying the supply wagons, said, ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’
‘What are you thinking?’
‘That I’ve had some luck sneaking into and out of places in the back of wagons.’
‘Gods, that’s a terrible idea.’ Char gestured at the people. ‘There’s no way we could explain our presence, especially if a Wielder saw us.’
Kyndra chewed her lip. ‘Can you think of a better way to get inside?’
‘Yes,’ Char said. ‘Let’s just walk in.’
She stared at him. ‘Are you mad?’
‘You said it yourself: we can’t afford to wait around. We don’t look all that different from the people loading the wagons. Let’s just pretend we’re working with them.’
To Kyndra’s immense surprise, Char was right. They waited until the foreman’s back was turned and then simply took places either side of the rearmost wagon, which didn’t yet have anyone assigned to it. Kyndra pulled her sleeve over her hand and raised her collar to hide as much of her neck as she could.
Crates filled the entryway. A passage led off to one side, down which the workers scurried. ‘Hurry up,’ a man barked at them and they were forced to carry their own share of supplies. Kyndra found the lightest sack she could, tucking it under her good arm, and they fell in behind the others. On the inside, Solinaris’s glass walls were opaque, as if shadows massed behind them. Their boots echoed on the crystal floor.
The passage led to a series of storerooms. Depositing their sacks, Kyndra and Char moved casually past the other workers, deeper into the warren. ‘How far do these stretch?’ Char whispered as they flitted from room to room, seeking an exit. The further they went, the more scholarly the shelves became; reams upon reams of blank scrolls, ink, quill pens. Sets of robes were folded neatly according to size and Kyndra seized two of them, throwing one to Char.
He unfolded the brown material. ‘What’s this?’
‘Novice robe,’ Kyndra said. She plucked at her clothes. ‘We won’t be able to move around otherwise. I suspect servants aren’t allowed in the citadel proper.’ They hastily dragged the robes over their own clothes. Char had to help her; Kyndra could no longer lift her left arm; it was as if all the bones had been removed. She hated being like this, dependent on others for the simplest of tasks. And yet, when Char touched her, she didn’t mind, feeling her heart beating harder when he brushed her skin.
‘Do you know your way around the citadel?’ he asked.
She made a face. ‘Maybe. I think I can find the atrium, if we manage to escape these storerooms.’
Eventually, they did, though it took longer than Kyndra had hoped. ‘Where is the eldest?’ she wondered aloud as they emerged into a crystalline passageway.
‘If it’s any consolation, he’ll have to keep out of sight,’ Char said. ‘I doubt he could pass for a novice.’
Despite everything, they looked at each other and grinned.
‘I never thought I’d see you like this again,’ Char said after a moment.
Kyndra shrugged, hoping to look casual. ‘Don’t get used to it.’ But his words had birthed a staggering idea. If I stayed here, I could live as me. I’d understand what it means to have friends again. I could feel.
She shot a covert look at Char. He’d dropped his gaze to his fingers, flexing them as if marvelling at their dexterity, at how it felt to have hands again instead of talons. She knew he struggled with his new form, perhaps even regretted the change. If he had the choice, would he stay here, abandoning Ma and Ekaar, choosing instead to live as a human?
Would they live together?
Kyndra gave herself a mental shake. The future depended on her – she had responsibilities. Who would watch over Acre if she abandoned them? But the thought curled up at a crossroads in her mind where it refused to let her be.
‘What’s the plan, then?’ Char asked.
‘We need to find the eldest before he finds Kierik. Or he’ll warn Kierik that separating Rairam from Acre will destroy him.’ As she spoke, Kyndra remembered the terror of that final inherited memory, the feel of a world in her mind, in her hands. She shivered. Had Kierik really intended to rule Mariar as Shune accused? Now that she’d met him, she couldn’t imagine it. Denying Sartya its prize had been his way of maintaining balance.
‘Kyndra?’
She realized she’d stopped walking. ‘Sorry,’ she said faintly. It was everything she herself had worked towards since setting foot in Acre. Seeking balance. She’d denied her heritage, but couldn’t deny her nature. Kyndra put it from her mind. They had to find the eldest. And Medavle. ‘I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid,’ she muttered.
‘Who?’
‘Medavle.’
‘Surely he’s only here to search for this Isla of his,’ Char said, glancing round, as if the Yadin woman might just happen across their path. ‘Then he’ll take her out of the citadel.’
Kyndra grimaced. ‘If he realizes the eldest’s planning to save Kierik—’
‘Novices, what are you
doing?’
Kyndra and Char pulled up short. I should have been paying attention, Kyndra thought angrily. The Wielder’s robes were golden like those worn by masters in Naris, but these seemed constantly to move and reshape themselves around him like mist stirred by a lazy wind. As she stared at the man, she felt her mouth open. His face was unlined, but she recognized its arrogant cast. ‘Shune,’ she said automatically.
He scowled. ‘Master Shune to you, novice.’ He tilted his head on one side, gaze moving between her and Char. ‘I don’t believe I know either of you.’
Kyndra’s throat dried. She darted a glance at Char, hoping Shune wouldn’t find something to question in his appearance, but Char’s eyes remained normal, albeit strikingly yellow.
‘Well, there are so many novices these days,’ Shune concluded dismissively. ‘It’s taxing to keep track of you all. Makes me glad I did not take up a teaching post.’ He folded his arms. ‘You should be studying.’
Kyndra felt some of the tension leave her. ‘Yes, Master. We were only taking a short walk.’
‘Off with you, then.’
For one wild moment, she found herself wanting to blurt out everything, to warn Shune of what was to come. Thankfully, the urge passed and they had no choice but to turn and retrace their steps. Kyndra wiped her palms on her brown robes. She could feel Shune’s eyes on her back. ‘We need to be more careful,’ she whispered once they were out of sight.
‘That was weird,’ Char said. ‘He hasn’t changed much, has he?’
‘Seriously?’
‘Well, apart from looking a thousand years old. But turns out he was always bad-tempered.’
Char was in a remarkably good mood, considering their situation. Kyndra suspected it was something to do with being back in human form. On impulse, she gave him a smile and again was startled at how much his face brightened. He raised a hand to her cheek.
There was a flash of white over his shoulder. Recognizing the Yadin garments, Kyndra darted around Char, a shout building in her throat. But when the man turned and she saw his face beneath the hood, it wasn’t Medavle’s.