by Claire Frank
“A few weeks in Halthas isn’t going to change the course of the Lyceum.”
“I know that, but I….” She trailed off. How could she make him understand? “I feel like we should be there. So many things are happening and we’re out here hunkering down as if we can ignore the world.”
Daro’s eyes tightened. “We aren’t ignoring anything. This is our home. Our life.”
“Of course it is, but the world is still out there. You saw the look on Rogan’s face when we left Caerven. You know he wanted us to return to Halthas with him.”
“Wait,” Daro said, putting up a hand. “What does Rogan have to do with this? You were talking about the Lyceum, and now Rogan?”
Cecily blew out a breath. “My point is, we should consider whether we have a responsibility to fulfill.”
“Oh, no,” Daro said. “I don’t need you to lecture me about duty and responsibility to my kingdom.”
“Daro, we can’t ignore the rest of the world. The Lyceum is struggling. Rogan’s reign is tenuous; what happened with Pathius and the Duke of Caerven proved that. And what about Isley Paven? You said yourself she’s dangerous, and we watched an unknown force snatch her out from under us. Do you think these things are going to disappear if we hide here long enough?”
“No one is hiding,” he said, his voice rising. “Halthas is filled with people who can handle these things, people who want to handle them. It doesn’t have anything to do with us.”
Cecily paused. “When we first moved here, after the war, I agreed with you. I thought we could leave all the turmoil behind. But the turmoil is still out there, and I don’t know how much longer I can pretend it isn’t.”
“What do you want from me, Cecily? Should we pack our things and move back to Halthas?”
“That isn’t what I’m saying.”
“It sounds as if that’s exactly what you’re saying,” he said, his eyes intense.
Guilt blossomed inside her as she held his gaze. She was genuinely concerned about the Lyceum and the strength of Rogan’s position, and couldn’t escape the growing sense of regret over leaving Halthas behind. Of course, Daro wasn’t wrong. There were people in Halthas to handle these problems, people like their friend Alastair, who chose a life serving the king. And Daro had already been through so much. Was it really so bad to let him settle down and live in peace?
“I’m sorry,” she said, softening her tone. “I don’t want to argue.”
He stepped out from behind his work table and ran a hand up her arm. “Neither do I. Maybe we’ll go to Halthas earlier than usual, in the spring, instead of waiting until the end of summer. We can plan a longer stay, give you some time with the students at the Lyceum.”
She looked up at him with a smile. “I’d like that.”
He drew her in close and wrapped his arms around her. She settled against the warmth of his chest, trying to tell herself his plan was a good one.
2. DUTY
Daro ran his hands over the surface of the wood, feeling the smoothness beneath his fingertips. His workshop smelled of fresh wood dust, and a low fire in the forge took the chill out of the air. Cecily had gone back to the house, leaving him alone with his work, and his thoughts. He rather preferred the former.
It wasn’t the first time she had hinted at returning to Halthas. They’d settled into a routine since coming home several months before, but even he had to admit things weren’t the same. There were too many pressures from the outside world, trying to worm their way into his peaceful life. He could sense Cecily’s growing restlessness; he’d seen her poring over letters from Halthas. But as he’d told her, there were plenty of people to deal with the kingdom’s troubles. The two of them had already done enough.
He took a deep breath and blew a bit of dust off his project. His hands felt steady, his grip controlled. It had taken a lot of work to gain mastery over his altered strength, but it had paid off. He hadn’t inadvertently broken anything in months. His power felt natural now, an extension of himself rather than a burden. It had come in handy more than once as they made repairs to their home. It was comforting to use his altered abilities in his everyday work, knowing they could be good for more than violence.
A noise outside caught his attention, and he put down his chisel. It sounded like hoof beats coming up the road that led to their house. As far as he knew, they weren’t expecting anyone. In fact, now that he thought about it, they hadn’t had any visitors since coming home at the end of summer.
As he walked down the path between his workshop and their cabin, the brisk air tingled his skin and he rubbed his arms. A quick glance at the sky showed low clouds, shrouding the day in pale gray. He wondered if it would snow soon.
Cecily stepped out onto the front porch as riders came into view down the hill. With a shrug of her shoulders, she descended the steps and stood beside him.
“Can you see who it is?” she asked.
Daro narrowed his eyes, focusing his energy. His vision sharpened, revealing three riders in traveling cloaks.
“Alastair and Mira,” he said, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. “And Rogan.”
“Rogan?” Cecily asked as she took a step forward. “Why would the king come here?”
Daro placed his hand on the small of her back as he stepped up next to her. “I guess we’re about to find out.”
The three riders approached, drawing their horses to a halt in front of the cabin. Alastair swung from his saddle, his black cloak rippling as he dismounted. He was dressed for travel, with a leather vest over a brown tunic, loose black pants, and sturdy boots. His dark hair was trimmed short, and a smattering of gray touched his temples. He smiled as he approached Daro, placing his hand to his chest and giving a shallow bow. Daro returned the gesture before clasping Alastair’s hand in a friendly shake.
“This is a surprise,” Daro said.
Mira dismounted, taking a look around as Rogan got down from his horse behind her. She wore a vest with the king’s sigil emblazoned on the front, and had her short bow strapped to her back, her long hair pulled back in a braid. Rogan gave Mira a brief nod and walked forward, his sable cloak streaming behind him.
Cecily dipped into a formal curtsy as Rogan approached, and Daro placed a hand to his chest and bowed deeply. Rogan paused to give them both a solemn nod before his eyes crinkled at the edges with a smile.
“It’s good to see the both of you,” he said as he stepped forward. He was dressed informally, in a dark leather vest with a black shirt and pants, nothing to indicate his station. Reaching out a hand, he clasped Daro’s and gave it a firm shake.
Daro glanced at the unexpected party as Cecily shifted on her feet next to him. He could tell she was anxious. “It’s always good to see old friends, but were we supposed to know you were coming?”
“We did send word,” Alastair said, “although we’ve had some trouble with our messengers recently.”
Cecily cut in. “I’m sorry we aren’t better prepared to receive you. If we had known….”
Rogan waved a hand in front of his face. “Nonsense, we’re among friends. This isn’t a formal visit, and I certainly didn’t bring my entourage. Let’s just get in out of the cold.”
Cecily led Rogan into the cabin; Daro helped Mira and Alastair secure the horses, then the three of them made their way inside. They found Cecily bustling about the kitchen, setting out a basket of nuts and dried fruit in the center of the wide table. Rogan took a seat at the head, near the warmth of the cooking stove, and Mira and Alastair joined him. Daro’s stomach rumbled as he took his seat; he hoped they’d get whatever business had brought them out of the way quickly, so they could eat something more substantial.
“Again, I’m sorry we weren’t prepared for you,” Cecily said as she took her seat. “It’s been a while since we had visitors. What are you doing so far from the city, and with only the three of you?”
“His Majesty still seems to think he can travel on his own,” Mira said, her ton
e wry.
Rogan gave her a sidelong glance. “If I had to bring half the court with me, this trip would take months, and I don’t have months to spare. A small group can travel faster, and I have reason for haste. I have a wife to see to now, and soon there will be a child.”
“Queen Miranda is with child?” Cecily asked.
Rogan smiled. “Indeed. My council is suitably appeased now that I have an heir on the way.”
“Or they will be suitably appeased once the child is born,” Alastair said. “Although I don’t know if they’ll stop fretting until he comes of age. If it is indeed a boy.”
“Fair enough,” Rogan said, “but the men and women of the council aren’t likely to stop fretting even if I father ten children. The point is, with an heir, they feel they can breathe easier.”
Daro’s eyes flicked to his wife. Children were a sensitive subject for her. She’d always wanted children, and thus far, she and Daro had not had any. She appeared relaxed, however, and returned Rogan’s smile.
“That’s wonderful news, but if Queen Miranda is expecting, what are you doing all the way out here?” Cecily asked.
“We were heading east already, so we thought it would be a good idea to come through Norgrost,” Rogan said. “We are going to Imara.”
Daro raised his eyebrows. “Imara?”
“Yes,” Rogan said. “I’ve been in communication with your friend Balsam and, through him, the Raeswa. They made it clear I would be welcome to visit, and said they would provide a guide to lead us. We’re meeting our guides in East Haven in a few days. We hoped you and Cecily would join us.”
“Come with you to Imara?” Cecily asked.
“It is a cold time of year for travel, but I didn’t think it wise to put this journey off any longer,” Rogan said.
“But why go at all?” Daro said.
Rogan glanced at Alastair before answering. “Our relations with the Imarans are favorable, but we’ve always been kept at a distance. Until recently, that didn’t seem to matter. But their military potential changes everything.”
“It really doesn’t,” Daro said, leaning forward and resting his arm on the table. “Nothing about Imara has changed. They were always trained as warriors, since long before Halthas existed.”
“Our awareness of their military capabilities does change things,” Rogan said. “As does their armed presence on Halthian soil. The events in Caerven showed us a great deal, one of those things being a formidable force right on our border, a force we never knew existed.”
Daro shook his head. “The Imarans don’t look at the world the way we do. They have a deep insight into their purpose, and it has nothing to do with borders or power. They live peacefully until something threatens the balance of Wielding magic. Only then will they rise up and fight.”
“I have to look at this from the standpoint of the relationship of my kingdom to theirs,” Rogan said. “I can’t pretend I don’t know there is a fighting force within such close proximity.”
“Do you think they are a threat to you?” Daro said, trying to keep the anger from his voice.
Rogan held up a hand. “No, I don’t think they are a threat. If Imara had designs on Halthian land, I expect they would have pressed their advantage long ago. But that doesn’t change the fact that there are things about them I need to know.”
Daro sat back in his chair. “Why bring us?”
“You have a kinship with them,” Rogan said. “You’ve spent time there and have a better understanding of them than anyone.”
“We’re feeling a bit blind,” Alastair said. “When it comes to our other neighboring kingdoms, we understand them. We know their leaders and their customs. We simply don’t know Imara well.”
Daro glanced at his wife. As much as he wanted to show her the land of his birth, he hadn’t imagined doing so under these circumstances. “What do you expect me to do?”
“I want to find out what you know about the Imarans, particularly the Raeswa,” Rogan said. “I may need you to translate, or help us navigate Imaran customs. I simply don’t like walking into a new place without having some idea of what I’m in for.”
“In other words, we don’t want to blunder around and create problems with the Imarans out of ignorance,” Alastair said.
“Diplomatic relations can’t be the only reason you’re traveling in person,” Cecily said. “The altered Wielders….” She trailed off.
Rogan tilted his head in acknowledgement. “That’s true enough; the Imarans did take a number of altered Wielders into their custody and, yes, that is among the reasons I’m choosing to make this journey.”
The name of one of those altered Wielders was left unspoken, but the uncomfortable looks on everyone’s faces said enough. They all knew Pathius was among the men taken by the Imarans. Daro reached up and scratched the scar on the back of his neck. Pathius was a problem for which he had no answer. The man’s very existence had the potential to threaten the balance of power in Halthas, a reality that had been made all too clear in Caerven. Daro shook his head. It wasn’t his concern. It was up to the Raeswa and Rogan to determine Pathius’s fate, as it should be.
“It would be an honor to join you,” Daro said after a lengthy pause. Although he didn’t like feeling as if he were once again being pressed into duty, the opportunity to visit Imara was a welcome one, even if it carried a modicum of responsibility. Besides, a bit of travel might be good for Cecily, might help relieve her restlessness.
Alastair’s face softened as if he were relieved, and Rogan nodded. “Good,” Rogan said. “We had hoped you would be willing.”
Cecily brushed the hair back from her face as she stood. “Well, I suppose I have some preparations to make.”
“And we should eat,” Daro said, pushing his chair back and standing. He moved over to the cooking stove and pulled out a large pot, already mulling over what he could prepare that would feed everyone.
He glanced back and Cecily turned, meeting his eyes. She pressed her lips into a small smile, but Daro could sense apprehension that hadn’t been there before. He knew the King’s unexpected visit likely had her feeling disconcerted, but Rogan’s easy manner made it feel as if they were nothing more than old friends. In a way, that was true, regardless of who Rogan was to the rest of the kingdom. But despite Cecily’s smile, Daro could sense a deeper unease.
Of course. She’d said it herself: the altered Wielders. After what Pathius had done to her in Caerven, Daro could hardly blame her for feeling anxious about traveling to Imara. With Pathius safely under the guard of the Imarans, far away from their quiet cabin, it was easy to put him out of mind. But if they went to Imara, they might have to see him again, and Daro could sense Cecily’s concern.
He gave her a reassuring smile. Although Daro had shown mercy before, if Pathius bothered his wife, the time for mercy would be over.
3. THE WORLD OF THE LIVING
“Are you going to run again?”
Pathius startled as Ara’s voice drifted toward him. The thick cedars stood tall around him, and the forest debris muted her footsteps.
“No.”
“Why?”
It wasn’t the question he’d expected, but Ara was rarely predictable. He paused, keeping his back to her, before answering.
“I’m not ready to die.”
A simple enough answer, and true. The Imarans seemed to be able to tell when he was lying, so he’d stopped trying. He also knew there were several of them, hidden in the forest watching, ready to put their spears through him if he gave them cause. In some ways, he was surprised to have lived this long.
“Of this you are certain?” Ara said. There was no judgment in her voice. Just the question.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Why would you ask that?”
“Three times you have tried to leave, knowing the consequences. You resist my attempts to help you and you spend much time alone. It makes me wonder when you will decide to rejoin the world of the living,” she said.
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“I am in the world of the living,” he said. “Where else would I be?”
“Drifting,” she said.
He flinched. The word cut far too close to the truth.
“You move about as if the breeze carries you, tossing you where it will. At some point you will need to put your feet down and begin to use them.”
He curled his lip in a crooked smile. “Every time I use my feet, someone drags me back here.”
“Hmm,” she said, but Pathius thought he heard a hint of mirth in her voice. Had he actually made her smile?
“What purpose would it serve to leave Imara?” she asked. “You made many enemies in Halthas. I do not think they will embrace you if you return to them as you are.”
“No, they won’t,” he said. He didn’t want to think about his last days in Halthas, but the memories were burned into his mind. Cecily, cold and blue. Isley, hot and seductive. The feeling of power running through his veins, searing away his fear. Daro plunging them into the darkness of his mind. The whispers were nearly gone and his sense of control returned, but the cost had been great.
“Something occupies your thoughts,” Ara said. “Is it the troubles of your homeland that concern you?”
“Yes,” he said. “You can’t imagine what it is like, to know something threatens your home and be unable to do anything to stop it.”
“You think this is something new?” she said. “It is the way of men to threaten each other, fighting always for land, or wealth, or power. Your homeland will survive, or it will not. Many kingdoms have risen and fallen in the great span of time. Halthas will be no different.”
He turned to face Ara. She was tall and willowy, with shining silver eyes and light brown hair that hung straight down on both sides of her face. “That’s what you say now, when your own home isn’t imperiled from the outside. It’s not so easy to accept the inevitability of the downfall of a kingdom when it’s your own. I know what’s coming and they need to know,” he said. Isley had told him the Empire of Attalon was planning an invasion, something his father had foreseen. The knowledge haunted Pathius, leaking into his dreams, frustrating him with his impotence. Although he was not bound or kept behind lock and key, Pathius had no illusions that he was anything but a prisoner. No matter how often he tried to press upon the Imarans that Halthas needed to be warned of the danger they would soon face, the Imarans all acted as if it hardly mattered. Even the Raeswa, the elders who seemed to govern the Imarans, had pushed aside his admonitions.