“The pleasure's mine, Your Highness. Dailan's told me all about you,” the girl said, timid in her awe of Kir, but unfazed by the dead kaiyo's addition to their introduction. “You can call me Emmi. Most everyone does.” She cleared her throat and added, “If that's appropriate.”
“I can't thank you enough for your timely intervention, Emmi,” Kir emphasized the name as assurance that informality was acceptable. She offered out a wrist-clasp for greeting. “We've had a rough day of it. You probably just saved our skins.”
“Dailan's friends are thoroughly mine,” Emmi said with a smile in the words. She glanced at Kir's hand hesitantly. She took the wrist-clasp with growing confidence. “I'm glad we could help.”
“Bertrand's going to be beside himself when he sees you, Dailan. Just don't spend too much time distracting him right now, when there's so much healing to be done. You can say hi, but catch up later, when we've got our bearings.”
Dailan bobbed his head and glanced around the dockyard. “Yeah, looks like you've got some deck swabbing to do.” He noticed the broadsword strapped to Kir's back and something clicked in his memory. “Oh right, got something for ya.” He slipped Deynartrial from his belt and presented the shortsword back with honor. “I didn't lose it in the mud.”
The moment Kir gripped the scabbard, a familiar essence warmed her soul, like Deynartrial was saying hello again. She had missed its comfort in her hand more than she had realized. It felt like a little piece of herself had been returned. She slipped the shortsword into her belt, and it was home.
Kir couldn't help but tug Dailan into her arms one more time, more affectionately than rowdily this time. “Wenchin furies, but we've missed you, Dagnabber. Thanks for looking after Vann and Scilio. I can't imagine how they would have gotten by without you there.”
“They wouldn't have. But don't worry. I kept their bellies full,” Dailan laughed to himself. He didn't seem to mind the mushiness.
Dailan's eyes drifted past Kir's shoulder. They saucered in horror as he gasped in a gulp of air. He backed away slowly and threw his hands out in a gesture that meant sheer off. By his terror, Kir might have thought there was a malcraven at her stern.
“What's wrong?” She glanced back, only to see the Guardians and Ithinar Steel warriors standing amongst the troops, with gleeful smiles plastered across their welcoming faces.
“It's a spook!” Dailan sputtered. “A haunt, come to skin me alive and feed me to the goats!”
Kir looked back again, still oblivious to what had frightened him so. “A which? You been sucking the grog?”
Dailan shook his head and crossed his arms in a superstitious warding. “You don't see him? It's Guardian Arrelius! Look! Right there at your back! He's come for me!”
Kir could have sworn the entire dockyard erupted into laughter, even the injured. She was embarrassed that she hadn't thought to clue Dailan in. Inagor's presence was so natural at her side now, it was like he had never been away. “No, Dailan! It really is Guardian Arrelius, in the flesh and blood. He didn't die on the airferry, see? He found us in the Arshenholm Valley. He's my Guardian now.”
Inagor eased forward slowly, to avoid scaring Dailan further. “It's true, son. You can feel my hand if you'd like to. I am quite real and alive. I even bleed—see?” Inagor pulled his sleeve away to reveal a nasty gouge he'd taken from a draulding claw during the battle.
Dailan cocked his head warily. He studied Inagor, processing the fact that a ghost was talking. “No, that's fine. I don't want to touch you or nuthin.”
Inagor laughed and gestured in the warrior's sign of understanding. He didn't look all that offended at Dailan's welcome. Kir figured Inagor must have known about the boy's superstitious mind.
“We've got some matters that take priority up in the command center, but later on, I expect the grand tour,” Kir said, motioning to the airship.
Emmi's chin rose and Dailan's chest swelled.
The Hilian Counselors began filtering into the courtyard. They scanned the scene briefly before taking to stare at the airship, all agog. Kir commanded a nearby Corporal to direct them over.
“The Major at the messenger scroll advised that the fort was secure,” Elder Trenen said when he arrived at Kir's side with the other Counselors. Even though he was speaking to Kir, he couldn't tear his eyes from the sight of the airship. “We had to see this grand vessel for ourselves.”
After a few minutes of goggling, there was an suspenseful pause on the air that seemed to want for Kir to fill it. Somehow, she sensed that everyone was looking to her for assurances and direction, even if they didn't say it outright. Kir motioned for a speakgrander to amplify the sound of her voice. The same corporal that had ushered the Counselors over came running with a massive conch shell for the purpose. Kir climbed about halfway up the airship's gangplank to get some height over the crowd. They watched her in anticipation.
“Am I coming through?” Kir spoke into the tapered end of the shell. It did its job well by the magic it contained, projecting her loudly over the waiting troops, nobles, and caravan. Several of the troops at the far reaches of the courtyard sent back their answer in cheers.
“I suppose you've heard by now that I'm the Crown Princess. Some herein have even taken to calling me Queen, premature though that may well be. It doesn't matter what flashy titles they stick on me. What matters here and now is that our kingdom is at the dawn of a new age, and I mean to lead you into it.
“As you've probably noticed, there's a hoard of Chaos waiting on our doorstep and this fort is under siege. I can't say how long it will last, or how many kaiyo are going to bear their fangs at our gates. What I can say is that I don't fear for these walls. We've got Hili as our supply line—we can stand indefinitely. There is no force, not man nor kaiyo, that can tear down what you have erected with the sweat-mortared stones of your united labors.
“Make no mistake. This is not just an attack on Hili. This is an affront to the whole of Aquiline. The Counselors that stand before you,” Kir swept her hand toward the Circle members, “are no longer Hilian. The Aquilinian nobles that have thrown in their support are no longer Alakuwai. Today, we are all people of Aquiline. We are people of Greater Septauria. This engagement marks a coming together that was started at the Battle of Gander's Vale, and is solidified now, here, in this moment of resolution. As King Loran affirmed so many ages ago, only in embracing unity can we stand strong. Yes, we have our differences, but it's that same diversity that makes for a stronger force. And so, we combine our unique assets and our knowledge, our magics and our specialized abilities. We stand together, as one, unified against a common foe. What waits on our doorstep is not just the enemy of one island, but of all. We here hold back a shroud that would fall upon our entire kingdom, that would see us divide and dissolve to chaos. We are the front line. We will be moonbeams against the darkness, sunbeams against the shadow. The Chaos Bringer can bring all the Chaos he can muster. We'll spank it back. Let that wenchin kadda see what happens when he messes with Aquiline!”
The approval was fiery and vocal. Kir had hit the right chord. When the noise level calmed, she finished with an observation. “While our King was off shaking hands with Chaos, you were here, shaking hands with something better. This fort was raised with allied hands. Soventine had nothing to do with that, so why should it bear his name? Henceforth, this compound will be known as Fort Unity. And in unity, Aquilinians all, we will stand.”
Everyone roared their support, filling Kir with accomplishment. This speechifying was getting easier with every bit of practice she got. Of course, the troops were so electrified, it probably didn't matter what she said. The raw energy on the air was so palpable, Kir wondered if she could cork it in a bottle.
After tossing the speakgrander back to the Corporal, Kir hopped down from the gangplank. She had to batten down her own giddiness, for fear it would entice her to dance a jig through the crowd. There was still too much to do, too many places t
o direct all that energy, so Kir focused on the most important issue at hand: Farning, and his answers to getting Vann back.
“Let's get on up to the command center,” Kir advised. “I got me some jawboning to do with the good Master Prophet.”
Inagor, Ulivall and Malacar fell into step behind her, with Beyhue's officers barking orders to the troops. The fort seemed to spring to action, directing their excitement to the chaotic task of post-battle organization.
As they made way for the stairs, Kir pulled Dailan to her side, unable to stop her gums from flapping. She felt like a chatty nipper, giddy with adrenaline and glad to have her friend back. “I gotta put my feet up for a spell after all that dragon-wielding. It drained me proper. It'll give us a chance to catch up, Dagnabber. I want to hear all about the last few months, about Vann and Scilio and how they are. You just missed out—my Kion made its grand debut. It's silver like Vann's and it wrapped me up in dark red fire. We ran afoul of Soreina, but the Kion spanked her all the way to the river!”
Dailan oohed and ahhed at her ramblings, regretting that he'd missed the dragon. He threw a leery eye Inagor's way every chance he got.
The Ithinar Steel boys were all over Dailan as they made their way through the passages. They cuffed his shoulder and mussed his hair. The sun rose in his cheeks, which were almost as bright as the wavy mop of flame on Emmi's head that was not content to be contained by the ties. He looked like he was enjoying all the attention that was well deserved.
“You said you found the Underground?” Malacar asked when Dailan was free of their antics.
“Yep. Grydon and Gavin are there, too. They got the message you sent from Balibay and hightailed it for White Tower to join up. We're staying in the Chalice House. That's a brothella,” Dailan explained.
“A wenchery?” Kir asked, raising an eyebrow. She couldn't help but snort. “It's Ponytail, after all. I should'a known.”
“He's been real respecting, and overly obsessive about his duties. He hasn't thought with his south brain, not even once,” Dailan said. “You should be proud of him, Saiya Kunnai. Shunatar's been true blue to His Majesty.”
Kir had no doubt of that.
Emmi sidled Dailan. Kir heard the girl whisper, “She doesn't act like a princess.”
Dailan whispered back, “Nope. But ain't that what makes a good one?”
Kir had to chuckle. Her heart was fuller than it had been in weeks. To get Dailan and Deynartrial back, all in one day, fed the hope that they'd get Vann back, too. All they had to do was talk to Farning. With an airship at her service, Vann was only a few days away from rescue. Kir didn't figure her cloud could get much higher without bumping her head on the moon.
-48-
Proffering Alliances
The sharing of evening games solidifies our brotherly bonds in this long journey toward the wilds of Hili. In facing off, we find pleasure in the companionship, and mutual growth in our strategies. Malacar is a cautious sort, slow to act but devastating in his delivery. Vann is calculating and cunning, adept at altering his defense when faced with dilemma. Kir is quick with her advancement, eager to conquer, sometimes to her benefit in the pounce and sometimes to her detriment in the recklessness. With the three of them beside me in playing the games of Kings, perhaps we will be unstoppable when united in our efforts.
- Excerpt from the journal of Guardian Toma Scilio
They found Bertrand kneeling in the corridor outside the command center, glowing his hands over an injured sergeant's leg. He was so engrossed in his healing, he did not look up as they approached. Dailan hung back a few paces, fidgeting impatiently, tapping his toe against the wall in a chaotic rhythm. After a few seconds, that probably would have amounted to hours from Dailan's perspective, Bertrand withdrew his hands and offered his typical monotone assurances that the patient would recover.
“'Bout time,” Dailan called. “Felt a few gray hairs starting to sprout.”
Bertrand blinked hard and his heavy brow practically fell to his jaw. He swiveled on the pivot of his knee and fell backward to land hard on his rump. Words formed on his lips that never heard their own sound as Dailan raced in to pummel his best friend with a ferocious bear hug. The momentum drove Bertrand backward into the sergeant who tried to look amused, despite being pinned awkwardly against the stone.
Bertrand was beside himself with the shock and thrill at seeing his best friend. The boys needed a private moment to themselves, so Kir waved a hand to usher the group around them. As she passed, a few of the Ithinar Steel warriors helped the injured soldier to his unsteady feet and aided him away. Emmi hung back against the wall, watching the reunion quietly, waiting for introduction to the young healer that Dailan had undoubtedly told her all about. As overcome as Bertrand was, it looked to be a while before that introduction would be happening.
When Kir arrived at the command chamber, Master Prophet Farning was prancing around impatiently with strides that were longer than his legs. By his arrogance, he looked like he owned the fort. As Kir passed under the door frame, Farning made straight for her. His beady little eyes, set too far back in his head, scanned Kir with more enthusiasm than he probably had shown in his life.
“Highness!” Farning said, much more chipper than he had been during their earlier reception. “I've been impatient for your return. Splendid, that was! Splendid! To witness the birth of a Kion is a momentous occasion. I am honored.”
Belching dragons seemed to be a surefire way to win approval, Kir noted with a smirk and huff.
“Master Prophet, Your Excellency,” Kir gestured in the formal pre-parlay greeting that was due. She replaced the honorifics and polished verbiage for casual vernacular. “Now that the kaiyo been spanked, let's get down to business.”
Farning's head waggled on his neck like a fisherman's bobber. “Yes, yes, Highness. Moving up in the Bonding, are we?” He leaned forward, walking his eyeballs across the glowing scrollwork that decorated Kir's neck, chest and shoulders. His nose was so close, it almost brushed the Karanni seal that hung at mid-sternum. Kir might have thought he was being forward, but she had heard the stories of Farning's eccentricities. If any other man had made such close examination of her chest, she would have allowed him to examine the hard knuckles of her fist.
“Fine, fine,” Farning muttered, seeming to approve. “Karanni has been quite generous, my dear.”
The way he said it, Kir almost took the statement as an insult. She shrugged it off. There were more important issues to address that didn't involve her ego.
“Moving onto matters that aren't written all over my uppers—” Kir began, but Farning cut her off instantly.
“I know why you're here, Highness. We can dispense with the formalities, such as they are, and the pleasantries, such as they are not. I've been working on this issue since Ulivall and Ferinar sent the details a few weeks ago,” Farning began. “Let me assure you, I am well ahead of you. But just so we don't miss anything, I need to hear exactly what happened from eye-witness. The eagle I received was less than thorough.”
Kir gestured for the party to be seated. Without waiting for everyone to get comfortable, she began laying out everything she could remember from the moonless night. When she was finished, Farning bobbed his head again.
“I'm pleased to report that there is a way.”
Kir's heart did a little tripsy dance around her innards. “He can be retrieved?”
“Theoretically, yes.”
“Theoretically?”
“It's never been done before. We are walking in new territory here. The Recollection spell is simple. It must be performed in a Holy chamber, of course, but not necessarily the original one. They are all connected, in the between, so any Prophecy chamber will do. Might I see the legendary soulblade? I would be privileged to examine so divine a relic.”
“Take in your sails and come about there. The soulblade... we need that lumanere monstrosity?” Kir balked belatedly.
“
Did you think we would dance naked and His Majesty would flutter right back to his body?”
Kir wondered briefly if she'd been whacked in the gut by a stray slipstalker. Every drab color in the room swirled together with the bright ones, twirling chaos through the folds of reality. Her palm instinctively covered her mouth, as if to keep the anguish from escaping as a scream.
“You don't have it?” It was more a realization than a question.
Kir shook her head, unable to muster words. Everything seemed to be crashing down. After soaring on a cloud, she was plummeting. What were the odds of retrieving Vann now? Kir tried to keep her chest from imploding in defeat. It took a good mental Kionara to master herself, to keep from falling apart.
“Since it did the severing, none of us realized it could do the reverse, as well. We were occupied with matters that seemed more pressing at the time,” Malacar defended darkly. “We did not concern ourselves with the dastardly weapon.”
“It's not a weapon, it's a conduit,” Farning correctly harshly.
Kir felt Ulivall's hand on her shoulder. She took it and leaned against him, thankful for the show of support.
“If you don't have it...?” Farning inquired.
“Alokien does. It will be with him, in Empyrea,” Kir said, in a voice hollow to her own ears. “He would not have left it behind.”
“Well, that puts a damper on our nousect retrieval party. Without the soulblade, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do.”
Nothing... the word stabbed Kir's heart with its finality and hopelessness. She stared at her splinted hand to keep from seeing her failure reflected in the eyes of her brothers around the table. In a world of unlimited factors, there was rarely a nothing path. Never a one-way route. There were always options, even though limitations may render them of the unsavory variety. Like sacrifice. Gaining Vann back called for an epic sacrifice. There were some trades Kir was perfectly willing to make. Only one was relevant here. Kir patted Ulivall's hand and nodded her gratitude. He resumed his seat.
Bardian's Redemption: Book Four of the Guardian's Vambrace (The Guardian Vambrace 4) Page 58