“Just because there hasn’t been a big fight in a while doesn’t mean one’s not coming,” Fennick said and Kole inclined his head.
“The Sage of Balon Rael is dead,” Misha said. She didn’t have half the modesty of the others. She straddled the bench facing Jenk, who did his best to ignore her, and she didn’t bother using one of the proffered cloths to wipe the drip from her chin until it had begun to slide toward her neck. “What need have you of all this metal with no one to fight?”
Fennick set his bone down and snatched a used rag of his own. He took a breath before responding. “Lost five of our own just before you came up from the west,” he said. “Including Captain Saphyr, in case you forgot.” Misha shrugged. “Might not seem like an all-out war, but in my experience, they’ve got to start somewhere.”
“The Blue Knights don’t wear leather and iron like you lot,” Jenk said, trying to change the subject to something a bit less inflammatory. “They get all that gold from you?”
“This here is the queen’s mountain,” Fennick said. “Nothing we take from here is truly ours. But to answer your question more directly: no, we aren’t in the business of mining precious gems. The brightest jewels were taken out of this place long before we came down from the passes.”
“Soft stuff when it comes to a fight,” Baas said.
“Gold?” Fennick asked and the Riverman nodded. He didn’t seem fond of the meat, so Jenk did his best to help him with it.
“Felt plenty hard enough to me,” Misha said and Kole had to agree.
Fennick saw his frown and nodded. “That’s because it’s not gold,” he said. “Not truly. It’s an alloy.”
Kole had never heard the word. He looked to Baas, and the Rockbled offered a half-hearted shrug. “A mix, I think he means. Gold and something else.”
“I don’t pretend to know the particulars,” Fennick said. “Just that those gaudy suits have been around long enough to set styles, fall out of them and come into them again ten times over.”
“I think we all know where they sit now,” Linn smiled and Fennick didn’t argue. “Though they look fine resting on top of blue. Not sure we could pull it off, given our complexions.” She raised her arm, which was bare above the leather greaves she wore and below the gray shirt and leather vest. It seemed to Kole that she was getting more and more used to the cold, though she had no Ember blood to warm her apart from their company.
“But then, you lot are from the deserts,” Fennick said, seemingly insulted on their behalf. “No doubt those palaces were more grand than anything you’ll find in the records of the north as far back as any can remember.”
“Your Sage queen might beg to differ,” Misha clipped, but Fennick took it in his stride.
“Beg away,” he said. “Everyone knows those stories. I’ve seen tapestries in the palace—not sure where they’ve got to, now—that show great ivory pillars with red jewels rising out of yellow mountains of sand. Surely you’ve seen the same, even if you’ve grown up in the Valley.”
Kole smiled at the others. “Maybe the Merchant Council’s would-be palace is even farther from the real thing than we thought.” Fennick watched their glances and shrugged before taking a long pull from his cup.
They had all but finished with the meal. Kole hadn’t realized how hungry he was before he had taken what was on offer in the queen’s palace. Tougher, drier stuff than the succulent meat Fennick had just given them. If his stomach hadn’t told him clear enough, seeing the state of himself in the mirror of his too-large guest chamber had done the trick. His muscle was still there. It might even have grown tougher and less yielding over the last month, but he was leaner. His ribs had taken on similar contours to his black armor, and his shoulders had bony spurs he hadn’t seen since he was a child running through thickets and reeds.
Kole had seen something else in the night that had given him pause. He stared at Linn and saw the way her eyes darted away from his once more.
In the night, he had heard voices carry up to his austere balcony. At first, he had given it up as a trick of the wind, perhaps Tundra and his guards on patrol. But then he recognized a familiar voice and crept to the entryway, opening the white wood door with frosted glass. He looked down and saw Linn dressed in little more than sleeping wear and their royal host in even less. She wore a gossamer gown that clung to her in the most immodest ways, and Kole was so taken with the sight of her that he forgot his initial shock at seeing them speaking at such an hour, and in such private company.
They had stayed like that for a time, and Kole had ducked back into the doorway, where he could concentrate on listening without the worry of being caught in the act. His blood was hot and his eyes were fixed on the wrapped bundle of armor and Everwood resting on the black cherrywood chest at the foot of the bed. He only hoped he could get down to them quickly should Linn cry out, but he feared the Sage’s magic would be too quick.
Their voices had begun to fade away, and Kole had crept back out onto the landing. His heart quickened when he saw them disappear beneath the arches and behind the pillars on the northern side of the courtyard. He stood there after they were lost to sight and sound for what seemed an eternity, at war with himself. Ultimately, he had given Linn up to whatever fate awaited her in the bowels of the strange queen’s palace, trusting that she was under no spell but her own, knowing that she was more than capable of defending herself should the need arise.
Even against a Sage.
Still, he wondered what she had learned, or if her moonlit stroll with one of the great and old powers of the world had truly been all chatter and innocence. He had thought of crossing the short hall and rapping on her door when she returned, and had even considered hopping from his balcony to hers, but the thought had made him blush. Whatever Linn had learned of their host, she would tell him. He had to believe that. He had to be patient enough to see it through.
“You seem bothered, Captain,” Linn said, bringing Kole back to the present. She addressed the captain, but her eyes had been on Kole. He gave her a smile that she frowned at. It was a strange look, but he let it drop from his mind as he focused on the host who sat among them. The one he needn’t fear.
Fennick felt the eyes of the Valley company on him and shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t answer for a time, even opened his mouth to speak twice and closed it. Finally, he heaved a heavy sigh and glanced about to ensure that none had ventured too close.
“Our queen does not wish us to venture back out onto the flats,” he said. “Not with her old friend so seemingly close.”
“The Eastern Dark,” Kole reasoned and Fennick nodded.
“You lot said you followed him out of Center. Followed him as far east as east goes. If you didn’t kill Captain Saphyr—and I’ve no doubt you’re telling the truth—surely he was responsible.”
“Seems that way,” Jenk said.
“Bah,” Fennick went to take another drink. Coming up with nothing but an empty swallow, he snatched the cup Baas offered. “Feels wrong, is all. Waiting here, hiding behind walls of Nevermelt or sheltering in caves when something like that’s about.”
“Can you blame her?” Linn asked. She was calm, reasoned, even soothing. “She doesn’t want to see any of her people harmed. The Eastern Dark will come; of that, unfortunately, we have no doubt. Why speed it along, especially on his terms?”
“We’ve had no word from Yana or the Quartz Tower,” Fennick said, his voice rough. It had taken him some effort not to interrupt, and his good humor had blown out for the moment. Seeing their looks, and seeing the way a few passers-by stared at him a moment longer than they might have otherwise, Fennick forced a tight smile onto his face.
“Apologies,” he said. “We were supposed to have a scout in the night. Blasted light’s been quitting on us. Normally, we’d be able to see the tower from here, relay a signal. Boys on the wall say they can’t make it out today.
Sun’s not high enough, and Yana hasn’t sent a runner.”
“Runner.” Kole smiled, saying it to himself. He felt a bittersweet swell as he thought of his father, and then a pang of fear as he returned to that familiar, buried worry over what might have befallen him in the deserts. What might have befallen them all. Linn saw his look and reached across the table to grip his hand. He smiled reassuringly and she gave a squeeze before letting it drop. Misha, seeing the exchange, looked from one to the other but kept her mouth shut. She looked sympathetic when she met Kole’s eyes.
“Aye,” Fennick said, not catching the impact the term had on Kole. Likely it was more literal in this land—a common name given to messengers rather than a title bestowed upon those who could evade demons as readily as a fox could a pack of hounds. “Could be Yana held him back. Could be she sent him on, and he was taken by the Eastern Dark in the night.”
“Could be he just hasn’t arrived yet,” Linn offered, but Fennick’s nod was distracted. His vacant look returned to Kole some of his former urgency, and he found himself peering through the glare of the cavern mouth to the shining palace, which took on a glow of molten gold not unlike the armor of Tundra and his Blue Knights—the strangest Landkist Kole had yet encountered in the wider world.
“You lot are here to fight him.”
Kole felt Linn’s hand grip his own once more and came back to the conversation. Fennick scanned the table, but seeing the direction of the others’ gazes, settled on Kole. Kole swallowed.
“That is why you’ve come, is it not?” he asked again, his tone taking on the earnest need of a child. “To help the queen turn back this darkness? The others have been speaking of it since you’ve come. They said you’re the ones the queen has seen in her visions. That you lot could be the key to stopping the coming darkness.”
“The World Apart,” Kole said.
“Yes,” Fennick said. “The World Apart. They said it’s coming. They say the queen has been doing everything in her power to hold it back with her magic. That’s why she’s barely left her palace in recent months. I didn’t believe it. We’ve never been bothered by the Dark Kind like the folk have to the south. Like you lot have. But the skies have taken on an amber glow too early for the season. The nights are getting longer and the days shorter. And then there’s that smell to the air, like … like—”
“Rot,” Baas said.
“Death,” Misha intoned.
“Both,” Fennick agreed, nodding rapidly. “Both, and something else besides.”
“Magic,” Linn finished. “And not that of the world. Not that of the Landkist.”
“Nothing close,” Fennick said. He had a wild look that was beginning to make Kole nervous. It was infectious. “But,” the captain leaned in, though there were none close enough to parse words from their exchange, “it is something that could be coming from him. From the Eastern Dark. It was he who first discovered the place, opened the door and all that.” He waved his hand, as if he was relaying half-remembered rumor rather than a cold and constant prophecy that had defined much of Kole’s existence, and that of all people the world over, whether they knew it or not.
Kole was somewhat at a loss for words, which struck him as strange. Normally, he’d have been the first to lend his voice to a chorus denouncing the Eastern Dark, holding him up as everything that was wrong and wicked in the world. Cursing him as the scourge of all living things and the source of all strife between the tribes of men, the cause of the terrible War of Sages that had swept them all up into a bitter conflict whose beginning was lost to the farthest reaches of memory. That nested within the living memories of only a select few.
Like the Witch of the North. The Frostfire Sage. The queen in her crystal palace.
“So we have long believed,” Linn said, answering for Kole. She said it haltingly and without fervor, and for once, Kole couldn’t say he blamed her.
Fennick regarded her with a startled look. He looked at Kole as if waiting for him to bolster her words, reinforce them.
He tried.
“The Eastern Dark is no friend to us,” Kole said, the words sounding a sight less harsh than they could have put another way. “He is our enemy.” Fennick nodded quickly. “We followed him from the heart of our lands to the edge of the world. We passed over the greatest wonders we’ve yet seen and endured horrors. We got ourselves mixed up in yet another war, and I dare say we chose the right side there. We fought with the legacy of one Sage and against the dominating, stagnant presence of another until we helped to bring him down.”
Fennick smiled a wicked smile. He had seen the evil of the Sage of Balon Rael firsthand. If the folk of the north had been fighting him with even half the ferocity of the folk of Center and doubly long, surely his death was cause for celebration. Cause for hope, and Kole was beginning to understand why Fennick’s people looked at them with lingering stares he could not place until now. They were not looks of fear or suspicion, though some of that was no doubt mixed in. Rather, they were looks of covered awe. These were the Landkist of the Valley core. Landkist who had thrown down one Sage who had festered in a deep and dark corruption before destroying another in the heart of Center.
And now they were here, come to the northern flats and resting in feathered beds in their queen’s white palace. Surely they were here to protect their own and kill the one who hunted her. Surely they were here to stop the Eastern Dark and help her lead her people into a new, bright and shining day.
Surely.
Kole realized he hadn’t truly answered Fennick’s question just as he realized he had no need to. He had said enough to appease the captain. Fennick’s smile had turned inward. It was a private look reserved for one who had lost much in the War of Sages, and who very much looked forward to seeing its ending. Never mind the fact that one Sage had drawn his people into the conflict in the first place. Never mind the fact that the very power who slept in her glittering jewel and set them to mine ore from the bowels of the mountain range had brought them little more than blood as recompense.
“We’re going to give him something to remember,” Fennick said, grinding his teeth. “He’s been hiding for a long time. He’s soft compared to the others. He slinks in the darkness, hides in the bogs. If he’s out now, he must be desperate indeed.”
The same words that seemed to have Fennick excited only called up fresh doubt in Kole’s heart.
Desperate, indeed. And Kole had finally given himself the freedom to wonder why.
Kole felt his bright mood beginning to sour. He felt something wet nudge his hand and looked down to see Shifa staring up at him with those chestnut eyes of hers, white-tipped tail wagging and white-tipped ears pointed up straight as arrowheads.
“Done inspecting the inhabitants?” Kole asked her.
“I don’t think there’s a rear end Shifa hasn’t sniffed since we’ve been here,” Jenk said, laughing.
“How’s the smell?” Misha asked the hound, who tilted her head. The Ember rewarded her with a rare laugh of her own, and Kole wondered if she had gotten into something else besides the clear water Fennick had served them.
Kole took the last few chunks of meat and gristle from the bones on display—they had apparently been ravenous—and attempted to lay them on the stone beneath the bench. Shifa was less patient than she seemed. She snatched the roasted meat and retreated to her place beneath the table, warming Linn’s feet and ankles as she worked over her meal.
Kole felt a pang of guilt seeing the hound’s skin and flattened fur sliding over the exposed grooves her ribs made. But then, they all looked very much the same. Kole could already feel his stomach complaining at the unexpected work it had been called upon to do on such a fresh and bloody meal. He could hear similar complaints coming from the others, the loudest coming from the direction of Baas Taldis.
The Riverman smiled when Fennick raised his eyebrows at him.
&nb
sp; Linn nudged Baas in the side with her elbow. “You speaking to the rock, or is that the sound of you being just as human as the rest of us?”
Baas shrugged, but his smile didn’t drop. If anything, it grew to the point of threatening dimples.
“Thank the skies,” Misha said, rolling her eyes dramatically. Baas looked at her quizzically, wondering if she was addressing him. Misha turned a withering look in his direction, telling him he should know exactly what she meant. “You may not give voice to your complaining as readily as Jenk or Shifa,” the light-haired Ember beside her bristled while Shifa chose to ignore the exchange, “but you’ve been in a mood since we snatched you back from that timber fortress in the west.”
Most at the table laughed, and Kole smiled, but he watched Baas closely. The Riverman took Misha’s jesting in his stride, but Kole could see the tightness beneath the look. In truth, Baas had spent more time with T’Alon Rane than any of them, both being prisoners of the Sage of Balon Rael. He had even fought him in single combat and—to the Willows’ reports—had done more than hold his own. He had fought the Sage before the rest of them, and he had arguably done the most to bring that fell fortress to the ground along with the titan who’d erected it—a rotten perch from which to survey his paranoid campaign and what blood it yielded.
“Baas,” Misha said, her smile dropping as she picked up the same tension as Kole. “I am happy to have helped in the snatching. Center didn’t suit you. This place, though …” She let it hang. Linn and Jenk exchanged glances, while Fennick looked from one of them to the next, unsure how to proceed.
Baas’s face colored. He wasn’t as swarthy as the Emberfolk, but he was darker than Jenk. His face took on the hue of a young plum, and when next he smiled, it was true and Misha’s redoubled to see it.
“It is good to be among friends, here at the end of the world,” Baas said.
Jenk reached over to clasp him on the wrist and came away shaking his hand out. Misha did the same, her face not betraying her own pain despite Baas’s relaxed boulder of a squeeze. Kole took something else from the exchange, particularly from Baas’s words. He looked at the whorls in the wooden table and thought he could see them spinning round the dark knots at their centers. They looked like tears. Like windows into nothing. When he looked up, he saw Linn staring at him.
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