We walked down a half-lit corridor until we came to an unremarkable door. Ortham was sitting on a stool out front. He greeted me with a nod.
Magus Bram opened the door and walked in. I squeezed Ortham’s hand as I passed by; he squeezed mine.
I was almost as nervous now as I was during my coronation.
Then I closed the door behind me.
The room was dark save for two flickering oil lamps. They bathed the small room in an orange glow. In its centre Majira lay in a recumbent chair. She half-opened her eyes and watched us take a seat on the two cushions beside her. I crossed my legs; Magus Bram sat across from me.
We took a moment to get settled. The lamplight flickered.
Magus Bram then took my left hand in his right; he took Majira’s right in his left; I took Majira’s left in my right. We completed a circuit.
“High Queen Dawn,” Magus Bram said, staring intently into my eyes. “Are you ready to see?”
My mouth was dry. Was I ready?
I closed my eyes. I felt the cool touch of my new crown upon my forehead – the warm hands of my two teachers in my own.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Be careful, now. They may sense a presence, but they will not see you – they will not see any of us. Not until we allow them,” Magus Bram said in a low voice. “I will prove to you that those cruel Void-worshippers who plot over the mountains are not impervious - even in their holiest sanctums they are not safe. That they are not our masters. They never will be.”
I nodded. My heart beat loud in my chest.
“I will remain in the waking world, ready to pull you out…” Majira whispered. “Now, shall we delve?”
“We shall,” I replied firmly.
I inhaled deeply -
and the floor gave way. Without moving I fell backward; I held my breath. A darkness far emptier than my closed eyes could provide then enveloped me.
But I was not alarmed. I was ready.
Suddenly a vista burst into the nothingness; I saw mountains flow like rivers, and the sky shift as if a field of wheat swaying in a warm breeze – we soared over a place where the waters were thick and enduring like mercury, and strange trees like iron needles jutted up from a rusted earth.
And out of this unflinching land, from its hard and unyielding horizon, rose a great storm, a cloud of unknown vapours, roaring in maddening silence, higher than the tallest mountain of the highest continent…
“Be careful. You can be lost forever in this false dream,” Magus Bram said, pointing up to the writhing sky. “There is never sky in a true dreamscape.”
It was a fevered dream-realm, a half-reality used to deceive delvers. It shattered like glass as Magus Bram channeled my energy against it; we broke through their fantastical defenses. The great storm dissipated.
We were left looking down upon an expanse of rolling plains; a city of immense proportions was arrayed beneath us. A wide river snaked through its heart. I looked around; the sky was black. All was silent. This was true dreamscape.
Magus Bram tugged my arm and pointed down to the city.
There, rising like an iron spike from the sprawling metropolis, nearly impossible in its monolithic proportions, was a vast and baleful edifice of sweeping walls, expansive complexes, and a single, towering spire looming over all.
We soared toward the baleful edifice, gliding down to its uppermost peak. Our rapid descent slowed. Like spectres we passed through the tower’s walls – and into a chamber of hewn stone.
My heart thundered in my chest. But I refused to be afraid.
We landed upon the smooth, black floor of the chamber. All around us was shadow – another defense, according to Magus Bram.
I looked to him. He squinted into the twisting, umbrous dark that pulsated before us. Then he nodded to me - signalling for me to dispel it.
I stepped forward; all was soundless, utterly soundless. I channeled my energy, felt it course through my soul.
The final defenses began to melt; the gloomy penumbra of the stone chamber slowly dispersed, lifting like a shroud of fog. It was taking an immense rush of power to peel back this final veil of darkness.
Then something began to take shape in the shadows. We were in a throne room; a mighty throne room. Pillars of curious craftsmanship flanked the spacious chamber. A massive, flare-backed throne, built atop a polished ziggurat, was slowly coming into view -
I gasped.
My eyes widened as I beheld the occupant of that strange, flare-backed throne – as I gazed upon the majesty of my first nemesis.
In all her obsidian grandeur, eyes covered by a mask of polished jet-stone, mouth left bare, and a towering crown of silk and spines and jewels upon her shorn head -
sat the Empress of Un herself.
64
Herace
I blew out a billowing cloud; I could see my breath. The mornings were growing colder by the day. The sky, though, was still clear; first frost had yet to come. I was sure that by noon I could take off my cloak and rely on nothing but the sun’s warmth.
The leaves of the orchard we walked through were still green. Apples hung like rubies from their limbs, dew shining on their ruddy skin.
Daisy reached up and plucked one of the apples from a tree.
“I wouldn’t try that yet. I don’t think it’s ripe,” I warned with a smile.
She bit into it anyway, only to immediately spit it out. She wrinkled her nose.
“Tastes fine,” she lied with a toothy grin, offering the apple to me.
I laughed as she insisted I take a bite. After evading her outstretched apple for a few moments I finally relented. She held the fruit to my mouth and I took a bite; it was so bitter and hard that it sucked the moisture from my mouth. I coughed and spat it out. She laughed.
Every day I was awestruck afresh by her. It was like I had known her forever, yet every moment was a new and exciting discovery. We were so alike, yet so different. And she was incredibly beautiful – like nothing I had ever seen. A perfect balance of tall, strong, and intoxicatingly feminine. Her every movement, feline and fluid, infatuated me in the most curious way. And those bright blue eyes, her soft, ivory skin…
I really couldn’t be happier.
Over the weeks I hardly left the keep. I had no reason to. We spent the morning doing whatever we wanted, only emerging from our room at noon. We’d eat, then go for a ride through the entouring woods. I took her along all my favourite trails. She was a great rider – luckily, though, not as good as me. Because she was definitely better with a sword. One on one, blade to blade, unarmoured, no shield, she always had my back against the wall.
Not that I would ever admit it.
Sparring was, naturally, one of our favourite activities.
Just being together was definitely our favourite way to pass the time. Walking, riding, sleeping, eating, even just laying around - we did everything together.
And it wasn’t wise, but I just had to take her along to Dawn’s coronation. I couldn’t imagine spending the day apart. It took a little clever costuming with the servants’ help, but eventually we concocted a veil to cover her face. It made her look like a merchant from across the Violet Ocean, but at least she didn’t look like an unman.
I knew folk would whisper. It was inevitable – they would gossip no matter what. Maeral had already approached me on the subject.
Which reminded me…
“Daisy,” I began, taking her arm in mine as we walked between the rows of apple trees. “My friends and I are going hunting next week.”
“Hunting what?” she asked.
“Bear, probably,” I replied. “Maybe deer.”
“Deer?” she asked in surprise, then reached up to touch my antlers. “Are you jealous?”
“Very funny. They’re growing back,” I said. “Slowly, but at least they’re growing back…”
“Will they grow straighter?”
“
What do you mean, will they grow straighter? They are growing straight! They’re perfectly even!” I stammered.
She laughed.
“It’s a joke,” she said in her thick accent. “Just a joke.”
That was a relief. The only thing worse than having mismatching antlers was not having any antlers at all.
We walked in silence for a while. The dew was drying beneath the gaze of the mid-autumn sun. Huge, marbled clouds hung heavy and mountainous on the southern horizon.
We stopped at a low fence of split cedar and sat atop it. Further off, down the slope, was the small village of Plin Oèn. It was the biggest of the few hamlets that sat on my estate. I barely had anything to do with them; I doubted most of the inhabitants knew what I looked like. Not that it was very important. While Plin Oèn was certainly one of the largest estates in Céin Urthia’s east, that wasn’t saying much in comparison to the central and southern regions. There were actual towns there. Big ones, with merchants and traders. Very little traffic ran through the east. Why would it? Where would you go? Not Sythir Eaoghn, I hope.
I plucked a piece of long grass from the ground and chewed it. Then I spat it out. Why did Ortham like chewing grass so much?
I looked over to Daisy. She was playing with the drawstring of her ivory dress. She wore it almost every day now, even though I had gone out and got her more – some that even fit right.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked, shuffling over until our shoulders were touching.
She looked up and gave me a close-lipped smile.
“Nothing,” she replied simply.
“Really?” I asked.
She let my question hang for a moment.
“The Slave… the uyrguk. He was dead, no?” she asked.
Her question caught me a little off-guard. We had barely spoken about anything that had happened in the past. We hadn’t mentioned the Disciples, the Empire… we hadn’t even spoken about our first duel. Or about Retker’s Knoll. It was as if nothing had ever happened – as if she was trying to forget. And I was more than alright with that.
I could only imagine the degradation she must have endured in that, strange, cruel place over the mountains. We were both glad that her hair was starting to grow over her tattoo.
“The big one with the thresher’s flail?” I asked.
She nodded.
I thought back to the day we had found her bleeding in the grass. She was leaning against the uyrguk’s limp body, unconscious.
“I… yes, the healer said he was dead,” I replied.
But I wasn’t quite sure if that was true. Not that it mattered; if he wasn’t dead in that moment, he had surely died not long after.
Daisy frowned and went back to playing with the drawstring of her dress.
“Why?” I asked.
“Vash-turel – who stabbed him – her blades were toxic,” she replied. “But she stabbed me too.”
That was strange. Healing magick couldn’t stop poison – if Daisy was poisoned, she would have died no matter what.
Then again, she had been unconscious for days after.
“That would explain why you were asleep for so long after,” I said.
Daisy sat up straighter and gazed back toward the keep. It rose as a grey sentinel out of the grassy hill, its eastern flank perched atop a rocky outcrop.
“I think it was sleeping poison,” she said. “To capture the princess.”
I thought that over. I still had no idea why Retker’s Knoll had been littered with so many dead. I didn’t know what had provoked the fight, or why Daisy was all that was left alive.
I put my arm around her shoulders. She leaned into me.
“Well, I’m just glad you’re alive. That you’re here now,” I said, and kissed her forehead.
She gently returned my embrace.
The fence wasn’t the best place to sit, though. With our arms occupied we had no way to keep our balance; I started falling backward. Daisy tried to stop me but ended up both falling.
We flopped backward into the long grass and laughed.
Daisy took my face in both hands and kissed me. I kissed her back.
Eventually we untangled ourselves from each other’s arms and walked back to the keep. Our clothes were wet from the dew but the warm noon sun was upon our shoulders. Daisy suggested I invest in a stone bath-house, citing it was more comfortable than a wooden tub. She also mentioned it could fit more than one at a time.
I liked the way she was thinking.
Soon we arrived at the front doors of the main keep and slipped inside.
Just as I began closing the door behind me the sound of hooves echoed through the courtyard. I paused at the threshold to look back outside.
A young faun on a pony slowed to a halt at the foot of the steps. He leapt from the saddle and fished out an envelope from his saddlebags. I watched from the doorway. The courier caught my gaze and ran up the steps.
“Prince Herace the Redeemed?” panted the courier as he neared.
“That’s me,” I replied, opening the door wider.
Daisy looked on curiously from behind me.
The courier bowed his head and held out the envelope. I took it from him.
“From the court,” he said. “I beg my leave.”
Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he ran back down the steps and saddled up.
I withdrew into the keep and closed the door behind me.
“What’s that?” Daisy asked.
I looked down at the envelope. I turned it over in my hands. It was sealed with wax – and bore the royal crest. The real royal crest.
I smiled and shook my head.
“I’m not sure,” I replied, tearing the envelope open. “But we’re about to find out.”
Pronunciation Guide
Aral: air-all
Ashrahaz: ash-rah-haz
Bildurog: build-er-og
Boralia: bore-ale-ee-a
cassemancy: kass-uh-man-sea
cautemancy: kot-uh-man-sea
Céin Urthia: chain earth-ee-a
degen: day-gen
fulgimancy: full-gi-man-sea
feumancy: fay-uh-man-sea
Glenn Mereillon: glen mare-ay-on
Gol-Gorom: gawl-go-rawm
Herace: hair-iss
Lyrandor: leer-and-or
Lyrèlie: leer-el-ee
Maeral: mare-al
Majira: muh-jeer-ah
Perethon: pair-eth-on
Plin Oèn: plin oh-when
Shi’iran-daz-ithrav: sheer-an-dazi-thrav
sylfolk: sill-folk
Sythir Eaoghn: sith-ear own
uyrguk: er-guk
Valethucia: val-uh-thoo-see-uh
Vash-turel: vash-ter-el
Vindaya: vin-die-a
Don’t miss the third installment of The Faun Quartet:
DAY OF THE VOID
Day of the Hunt (The Faun Quartet Book 2) Page 52