Spyridon (The Spyridon Trilogy Book 1)

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Spyridon (The Spyridon Trilogy Book 1) Page 34

by Lillian James


  They looked at Tauruk, and Jane felt Mikhél stiffen beside her. But he said nothing, and she knew he wouldn’t argue the loyalty Tauruk commanded. It was more his style to use it to the advantage of their cause. Tauruk nodded, and the assistants left. When they were too far away to sense her, Jane opened the communicator and pulled out the sixth bracelet.

  And Mikhél said, “We weren’t just preparing her for war. The Baanrí is a healer.”

  “A healer.” Tauruk turned to Jane, and his eyes darkened. “You believe she’s the prophesied one.”

  “She’s had visions of the future.”

  “And her sedfai?”

  “As of now it spans the entire ship.”

  “I never believed…it didn’t seem possible.” Tauruk’s head cocked. “You’ve been training her to find Lan’Gemhína. To hide them from Lhókesh?”

  Mikhél glanced at Jane, and their conversation on the balcony on Vorhódan rose in her mind. She could feel the warm, dusty air. She could see the colors of the sunset shimmering on the horizon. And she could hear the horror in her own voice as she realized what he wanted her to do.

  He said, “No. She’s going to create Lan’Undarei.”

  “Good.”

  Her gaze shot to Tauruk, and she realized he was more than just a spy. He was a warrior and a strategist, much like Mikhél. He would see the war for what it was: a grim, gruesome battle for freedom. She wondered if he would be able to see what happened after. If he would be able to think beyond the fighting, to what people needed in the aftermath of such a thing.

  She looked at each face, and she understood this was the inner circle. This was the group that would fuel the war.

  If she took up the mantle of the Baanrí, then this was her council.

  But she had to know one more thing before they could move forward. “What changed?”

  Tauruk looked at her blankly. “My apologies, Baanríté, but I don’t understand.”

  “You gave Valaer a knife.” At those words everyone in the room grew still—except Mikhél. He’d never forgotten the knife. He’d just accepted it as part of war, but she couldn’t dismiss it so easily. “You were going to kill Mikhél. You had already decided not to trust us. Now you’ve changed your mind. Why?”

  “I had begun to hope Niyhól had somehow changed sides. I promised Valaer the knife to retain control of the situation. I had no intention of providing it, but I didn’t want him to lose patience and attack through other means. Then I approached you on the growth deck. You used the name of Lhókesh as a shield. I thought it a sign that Niyhól had poisoned you against us. It seemed we had no choice but to eliminate Niyhól and end his influence on you.”

  “Then why trust us now? Why align yourself with the man you tried to murder two weeks ago?”

  “I saw the way he looked at you. He was prepared to fight the entire crew to keep you safe. He would sacrifice himself for you, yes?”

  The words squeezed a heart already raw. “Yes.”

  Tauruk nodded. “Such selflessness has no place in the army of the Meijhé. This man fights for a cause greater than power. He fights for the Baanrí. And any man who fights for the Baanrí fights for Spyridon.”

  Jane didn’t notice the paintings until the room had cleared. When she saw the blurring pool of colors at their base, she thought they’d been ruined, and her stomach dropped.

  Then she saw that while several of the pictures were wet, the colors had run on just one. It was the image of the campfire in Masbareth.

  Three simple flames. Of course.

  She picked up the canvas and wiped at the bleeding paint with her sleeve. When the gesture revealed the words hidden beneath the image, her legs gave out. She landed gracelessly in the painted water and read a letter that had been hidden for longer than she’d been alive.

  My darling daughter,

  Words cannot express my regret at losing you. I can find solace only in the knowledge that the sacrifice your father and I made was successful. You live. You are kind and strong, and you do honor to our family.

  I’ve seen things, Seirsha. Horrible events I cannot prevent and inspiring displays of courage that make me so proud of you. I cannot control these visions. They are vague and fleeting. But I think I’ve seen enough to help. I’ve gathered items that should assist you and hidden them in an old wooden chest in the Sanctuary. I have protected the chest, so you alone can retrieve it. Take great care with this task. We cannot risk these items falling into the wrong hands.

  Other than these few gifts, I can offer only the following information:

  Your gríth bears three carvings I did not create. The symbol of fire you surely recognize by now. It graces the five pictures I’ve painted for you. My gardó, Da-Faen, is mated to an artist named Lhúk. It was he who helped me to create these images from dreams that have plagued me for years. The portrait that was among them is Da-Faen herself. Please see that her daughter receives this, as it is a gift from her father.

  The paintings show significant places on your journey. In each of these spots, something important will happen. I wish I could tell you what. Just remember that you must be patient in these places, Seirsha, when others wish for speed.

  The second symbol on your gríth, the symbol of Spyridon, is worn by one who is special to you. I’m so sorry, my darling Seirsha, for I know what he is to you, but you must let him go. I wish I could spare you this pain, but I’m helpless to do so. His sacrifice is necessary in this war of wars.

  The third symbol represents the place that holds Lan’Gemhína. I’ve searched for this place since I found the gríth, in hopes that I would spare you this challenge, but I failed in this quest. I trust that you will be successful where I was not.

  I believe you are the strong one. I believe you have the power to do what I, La’Fek, and countless worlds could not. I believe you will stop the man who is flying toward us even now. When it seems that all is lost, you must have faith in this, for you will not just save our world, my child. You will save all of thinking life.

  Know always that you are treasured. Live well, rule honestly, and love without hesitation.

  Dhémar

  Jane’s eyes flooded as she set down the letter, and the hope that she might save Mikhél brittled and shattered. In its place was left a hollowness that even fear could not fill.

  Her mother had believed she was the strong one. No matter where she turned, the prophecy was there, demanding that she accept a fate she never would have sought. Hiding from it—pretending it made no sense even while the evidence supporting it mounted—had done nothing but delay what she was beginning to believe was inevitable.

  The ship was slowing now as it approached its destination, a change she could detect only with her senses.

  Each day they drew closer to Spyridon.

  In ten days she would be home. For the first time, she would have the comfort of her mother’s guidance.

  And the pain of losing Mikhél.

  Eight days till arrival

  Jane learned why Mikhél would return to Lhókesh when she showed the letter to the others. According to Eithné the Sanctuary her mother referenced could be only one place. It was Armín’s Sanctuary, built inside the Royal Tower as a tribute to Spyridon’s first Baanrí. Over the thousands of years since her death, the Towers had grown and modernized, but the Sanctuary had never changed.

  “It’s on display inside the tower of the royal family,” Mikhél said as the others stared at Jane, mouths agape. “Lhókesh left it untouched as a reminder of everything he took from the Nhélanei. Dhémar must have seen that he would do so.”

  “But how?” Valaer asked. “Dhémar didn’t have a sight gift. How would she have seen any of this?”

  Jane shook her head, the questions nothing she hadn’t already asked herself. “She didn’t say.”

  “And why hide the chest in the Royal Tower?” Eithné asked. “Why not hide it here, with the paintings? It would have been so much safer…”

  As
the others theorized and argued, Jane looked at Mikhél. For once he wasn’t hiding his emotions, but the sensations he was sending through the nexus made her want to slam her fists against the table.

  He felt sorry for her, even though it was his death on his mind.

  He opened his mouth to speak again, but she knew what he would say, and she cut him off before he could. “The questions don’t matter,” she said, her voice hard. “We know what has to happen next. I have to get inside the tower. And Mikhél goes back to help me.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Five days till arrival

  Jane sat in the center of the royal quarters while Leima bustled around her. She wore a dress they’d found in the safe room, sealed and tucked away in the storage wall as if it had been waiting for her. And she supposed it probably had.

  It had been her mother’s dress. Eithné remembered seeing her in it before the war, during a visit she’d made to the university. Jane kept running her finger over the midnight blue of the sleeves and thinking her mother’s skin was the last to touch the thing. It might not have been true, but still, the thought made her feel closer to a woman who would never hold her again.

  She swallowed the sudden thickness in her throat and glanced out the window. The stars were back, a dazzling reminder that they were out of the last jump and preparing for orbit. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and she told herself she could do this. And then she wondered when she’d believe that.

  Valaer limped into the quarters as Leima applied free-floating jewels to Jane’s skin with some sort of adhesive she promised would wash away. They were the symbol of royalty the Nhélanei used in place of a crown. They’d been stored in a small, velvety pouch sewn into the dress.

  “Are you sure this is wise?” Eithné asked behind her. “Confirming her identity is one thing, but having her speak to the crew seems premature.”

  “They need to know she can lead them,” Mikhél said.

  “And they need to know,” Tauruk added, “after everything that’s happened, that she’s the one in command.”

  Jane’s stomach turned, and she closed her eyes against the surge of nausea. She told herself this would be over soon. And then she could go back to being Jane, pseudoalien who just needed to find some stones.

  Leima sighed and stepped away. “This is the best I can do without ceremonial colors. I think she’s ready.”

  Jane’s fingers dug into the metal under her bottom, as if she could possibly hold herself in place during this debacle.

  “May I have a word with the Baanrí?” Valaer asked.

  Eithné glanced at her link. “There’s no time. Seirsha, remember what I told you. Keep it short. You want to encourage, but you don’t want to give specifics—”

  “It’s important.”

  Jane looked at Valaer, and her shoulders wanted to hunch. He looked as if he knew every thought running through her mind, and she had no desire to discuss them with anyone. But at least it was a delay she didn’t have to initiate.

  “It’s fine,” she said. When it seemed Eithné would protest, she added, “Please.”

  Mikhél must have heard the need in her voice, because he ushered the others out when Eithné started to argue. He glanced at her as he turned and called closed the door, and she realized she must have sent him some of her thoughts through the nexus. And he, of anyone, understood her need for a reprieve.

  She stood and turned to Valaer, her face heavy with the makeup. “How is your leg?”

  He waved the hand that wasn’t gripping the cane as if to dismiss her question, and then he limped over to the window. He stood silent for a moment. Then, “I have something to tell you. But I don’t know if you’d be better off not knowing.”

  She ran her fingers over the sleeve again. She’d yet to learn a secret on this ship that had seemed like good news. But she said, “I don’t think ignorance has ever been a benefit to me.”

  He turned to face her. “In this case ignorance might make you a stronger leader.”

  She lifted a brow. “I don’t think that’s ever been true. On any world.”

  He nodded, but he was quiet long enough that she thought he’d decided not to tell her. Then he said, “His name is Thomas James Brandt.”

  The words were the furthest from any she’d thought he might say. “What are you talking about?”

  “I heard you on the growth level, the day before you were attacked.”

  Her heart began to pound, and she suddenly wanted to tell him to stop. That he’d been right. In this case ignorance was best. But she didn’t.

  “You didn’t sense me, I know. I think we have Tauruk to thank for that. Seirsha, I heard what you told Mikhél about the boy on Earth. He survived.”

  It took a moment for his words to register. When they did, the accident flashed through her mind. The truck had struck the boy. She hadn’t mistaken that. But after. What had happened after? She shook her head, half convinced this was some sort of terrible revenge for Bhénen’s death.

  “It’s true.” He called up an image on his link and thrust it in her face.

  It was an article from an Atlanta newspaper. Valaer was probably the only other person on the ship who could have read it, let alone found it in the first place. It was dated a year after the accident, and the photo showed the boy who’d once run in front of a truck to escape her. He was grinning, one front tooth missing, his hair sticking out on one side as if he’d slept on it just after a bath.

  “He’s alive.” She could barely whisper, her throat was so tight. She forced herself to clear it and squeezed her eyes shut, as if to clear her vision as well. When she opened them, he was still there, that goofy grin firmly in place. “Thomas. I never knew his name.”

  “He won an award. That’s why the article was written. They called his story a miracle.”

  His voice was buzzing inside her head. She couldn’t think past the revelation that she hadn’t killed the boy. Her left wrist began to burn. She pulled up her sleeve to see the scar that had lain there for three years glow bright red. The burn turned to ice, and the red faded.

  And then the scar vanished.

  In that moment she felt free. She dabbed at her face to try to preserve the makeup Leima had applied and then made herself meet Valaer’s gaze.

  He looked the same. But he wasn’t quite the person she’d thought he was.

  As if he knew her thoughts, he said defensively, “I don’t hate you.” When she watched him quietly, he set his jaw. “Anymore. I blamed you for Bhénen, but it was wrong of me to do that. Not just for you, but for him. It…”

  He cut himself off and turned sharply away, as if to pace. But the movement must have hurt his leg. He cried out and picked up the cane, and she thought he’d fling it across the room. But instead he took a deep breath. Then another, and he brought the cane to his forehead and closed his eyes.

  “The day you were attacked, you came to me first. You wanted help, but I barely heard you. They’d delivered the knife that night while I slept. I don’t know why, but it had never occurred to me that it would be a knife. It looked like the one they used on Bhénen. It was cold, and the moment I touched it, I felt like I would never be warm again.”

  He looked at her then, and his eyes were terribly pale. “I was…lost. Everything Bhénen loved about me is gone, and I don’t know how to get it back. And I blamed you for that, but the truth is Bhénen didn’t die for you. He died for what you represent. He died for Spyridon. I did him a disservice to ever think otherwise.”

  She tried to accept his words because it was what he wanted, but there was something in his voice that gave her pause. “You’re angry with me,” she realized. “You might not hate me, but you’re still angry with me.”

  “You’re the Baanrí.” She couldn’t help but flinch at the title, and he set his jaw again. “I didn’t come on this mission to save the strong one. That was Bhénen’s hope, and Eithné’s, but never mine. I came here to save the Baanrí. But you shy away
from who you are. You want to stay in the shadows, but you weren’t born for that. You were born to lead. What I don’t understand is how you’ve accepted the prophecy so easily. Why embrace a fairy tale and reject reality?”

  She started to say he was wrong, but she realized there was some truth to his assumption. Even when she’d read the letter from her mother, written from one Baanrí to the next, her thoughts had been of the prophecy. She’d put that letter aside with the aching knowledge that the prophecy was real. That she was the strong one.

  But the idea of being the Baanrí…even now the thought made her cringe. It brought more dread than the prophecy ever had, and she didn’t understand why.

  Valaer said, the bite fading from his voice, “You weren’t prepared for it. I know that. Every other Baanrí we’ve had has wanted the position, and you didn’t have a choice. But you can’t let that matter anymore. We need you now. We can’t wait until you think you’re ready.”

  He was right, but the knowledge made her hands tremble. “I’m not a soldier. I can’t lead us into war, Valaer, I can’t. I don’t know how.”

  “This war started before you were born. It will continue without pause if you never pick up a weapon. We don’t need you to lead us to war. We need you after the war is done. Seirsha, we need you to lead us to peace.”

  “Don’t tell them about your past,” Eithné cautioned as they walked down the hall. They’d tried to keep their pace slow, so Valaer could keep up, but nerves had their legs moving quickly, and he’d soon fallen behind. Jane seemed to be the only one who realized it. She’d looked over her shoulder, ready to slow down the others, but he’d only shaken his head.

  The disappointment in his face had quieted her more effectively than anything else could have done.

  “They can’t know that you were raised by humans,” Eithné continued. “They certainly can’t know that you found out about the war from us. They should think you’ve been training for this your whole life. That was your parents’ plan, so we honor that, at least in spirit. And don’t tell them about your visions. Don’t mention the prophecy at all…”

 

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