At a creak of the hinges, Elayna went for a sword. She ripped her blade from a belt looped over the bedpost and assumed a wary stance. Even in a flamboyant silver dress, the woman looked impressive with a weapon in her hand.
As we stepped into the light of the room, Elayna exhaled, “Thank the gods.” She slid her sword away. “Any problems?”
I shook my head. Elayna looked to say more, but my eyes had moved off hers to fix on Malaq. This time, I didn’t glance away. Whether it was guilt, curiosity, self-inflicted punishment, or simply friendship, I left Sienn, brushed past Elayna, and went up to the bed.
I’d seen Malaq’s disfigurement in the future. I’d seen the fresh blood on the beach and later, in this very room. Yet, each time, my focus had been on what Malaq’s injury meant for the future. I hadn’t considered what it meant to him, or to me. Trying to do so now, to let down my guard and absorb the shock of his horribly ashen skin and his long, still form sprawled out across the oaken bed, I felt only numb and bewildered.
This didn’t look at all like my friend.
Blood-splatter speckled the fur-trimmed blanket pulled up to his waist. His bare chest was discolored by the cuts and contusions of battle. A splint was roped to one arm. The limb affixed to it was swollen and badly bruised. Our entrance must have interrupted Elayna as she was changing the bandage on Malaq’s face. The used cloth, on a table beside the bed, was stained and crumpled. She’d yet to replace it with a new one. His injury was out in the open for all to see. And the sight of it—fresh and far worse than I’d imagined—hurt to look at. I tried to douse my anguish with detachment, but two disturbing notions kept resurfacing: if the claws had penetrated a few inches lower to breach the skin of his neck, Malaq would be dead. And, Elek’s cleric had done a piss poor job on purpose.
Though he had indeed closed the four ragged, ruts running from hairline to chin, I’d seen less barbaric attentions on an active battlefield. The entire side of Malaq’s face was swollen beyond recognition. Torn flesh pulled tight and uneven, a glut of stiff black thread protruded from the center of each raised furrow. Before sealing them, the man had packed the wounds. Something grainy and yellowish was seeping through the loose seams. The edges where they joined were discolored and puffy. Like with nothing more than a single push of a fingertip, they might burst open and expel all manner of fluid.
The hollow of his empty socket had been seared shut. The hole was deep and black, yet seemed to exude far more emotion than Malaq’s gray eye ever had.
Elayna was beside me. She ran a comforting hand over my arm.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It isn’t your fault.” I might have argued, but she went on. “Krillos said his eye was excised completely. All that could be done was seal the cavity. But with magic…” Elayna watched Sienn approach the bed. Expectation quickened her request. “Is it possible? Can you return his sight if there is nothing to return it to?”
Sienn’s response was vague. “Such a loss is not easy to overcome, Your Grace.”
“You pried me from Death’s hands once,” I reminded her. “There has to be something you can do.”
Sienn sat down softly on the edge of the bed. Her white eyes met mine. “Death can be bargained with, Ian. This was Fate’s doing. And he is not so generous.” With unconcealed sympathy, she looked at Elayna. “Damage this great will require multiple rounds of healing.”
“I understand,” she replied, “but I need him awake by morning. Get him out of danger and on his feet. The rest will have to wait.”
Sienn dipped her head. “As you wish.”
Elayna turned from the bed. I took the opportunity to ask, “Jarryd?”
“He was here all night, sitting by Malaq’s side. I suggested he take one of the empty rooms and sleep while he can. There are several down the hall to the left. You should join him.”
“Thanks.” Moving around the bed, I captured Sienn’s attention with a light touch on her shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.” Elayna escorted me to the door. As she opened it, I paused. “These won’t be small spells, Your Grace. You’ll need something on hand to feed them.”
“I’ve sent my maid to the garden.”
“Plants aren’t going to cut it. If you want Malaq healed, it’s going to take a life, maybe two. But if you aren’t ready to make that call, I—”
“No,” she cut in. “This is my decision. Any deaths that come from it are my responsibility to live with, Ian, not yours.”
“Okay.” More and more the woman impressed me. “Be sure to leave the room before Sienn gets started.” Elayna nodded, and I stepped out into the hall.
The King’s chamber, being somewhat isolated, was located toward the end of a lengthy corridor. Heading left, as Elayna had instructed, the way was well-lit and decorated, with lanterns spewing a cheerful yellow glow from behind etched glass. Tapestries of Rellan boats riding a stormy sea, and stags leaping through a golden field, wrapped the walls. Tall ferns of green sprouted from tiled vases polished to a high, mirror-like sheen.
Reaching a row of doors with the Arcana crest carved into the outside, I stopped. A faint, melodic sound filtered out from behind one. The voice was low and pleasant. It was familiar, but startling. From my stash of Jarryd’s memories, I knew he had a talent for song. I also knew he hadn’t used it in many years.
I opened the door and slipped inside. The warm air smelled of soap. Dark but for a fading hearth, weak orange flickers cast a sleepy glow over the cushioned chair facing the fire. The top of a man’s head protruded above the rounded seatback.
After listening a moment longer, I closed the door behind me. The latch settled in place with an obvious click, and his song ended abruptly. “It’s me,” I said.
Standing, Jarryd turned around with an abundance of blankets in his arms. I was guessing a baby was in there somewhere. “Ian,” he smiled. “I didn’t know Elek released you.”
“He didn’t. Elayna arranged our escape.”
Jarryd came closer. Irritation set his jaw. “Elayna told me to stand down. She said if anyone but Malaq challenged Elek it would break their alliance.”
“She’s right. There’s a good chance Elek won’t stand for this. But don’t blame Elayna for keeping you in the dark. She was trying to help her husband and protect you at the same time.”
Jarryd’s scarred face tightened. “Can Sienn fix him? I mean, really fix him.”
“I have no idea. Broc did some impressive healing during the war, but this…” I shook my head. “It’s going to be a few hours before we hear anything. Have you eaten?”
“One of Elek’s warriors brought a plate up a few hours ago.”
I had a guess which one. “She has a strong stance and a quick aim.”
Jarryd dismissed my mention of Ordree with a half shrug. “It was just food, Ian.”
“You’re right. Why would you be interested in a sexy archer girl? It’s not like you two have anything in common.” Jarryd blanched. Leaving him with the thought, I gave a nod to the bundle in his arms. “And you were worried you couldn’t hold him.”
Jarryd’s gaze went wide, like a boy who’d been caught shirking his chores. “I was walking by. I heard him crying.”
“You don’t have to make excuses, Nef’taali. I told you weeks ago to do this. You can still be in his life without claiming him.”
“I don’t want to confuse him.”
“Look at him. The entire world confuses him right now.” I eyed the tiny, round face poking out of the blankets. “May I?”
Unease tightened Jarryd’s brow. “You don’t have any experience with babies.”
“I think I can manage.”
“You have to hold him tight. But not too tight.”
“Got it,” I nodded. “Don’t break him.”
Jarryd gave me wary eyes.
Suppressing a smirk, I gestured
my impatience, and he relinquished his son into my arms. Gently, I settled the babe against my chest. Before Jarryd could complain I was doing it wrong, I moved a couple of steps away. I stared openly then, at the wonder in my arms, amazed at his pale, perfect skin. His sprout of brown hair was wavy like Elayna’s. The deep blue eyes staring up at me were the most innocent I had ever seen.
I glanced at Jarryd. “I did the spell.”
Eagerness leapt into his voice. “You went to the past? What happened?”
My jaw worked a moment as I decided how much to tell him. “There’s a key. It’s kept inside a small box with runes on top. It was part of Jillyan’s collection. It should open whatever holds the tablets. I just hope she still has it.”
“Anything else?”
The babe squirmed in my arms. I wasn’t ready to give him up. Yet, whether I told Jarryd everything or not, describing my tragic trip to the past was going to take a while. “It’s a long story. We might need another chair.” I eyed the one he’d vacated when I arrived.
“His nurse has an adjoining room. I’ll check there.”
Jarryd turned away. I started to sit, and the flames and the hearth jumped. My hair blew across my face. I didn’t bother glancing at the window. The sudden breeze on my skin reeked of magic.
In two strides, I was shoving the babe back into Jarryd’s arms.
“What’s going on?” he said.
Light erupted near the entrance where I came in. Scanning the room, I jerked my head to the shadowy outline of a slender door in the back wall. “Go. Get to Malaq’s chamber. Tell Sienn to seal off the room.”
Distracted by the pulsing, multi-hued strands coming together in front of us, Jarryd didn’t move. A discernable outline formed. Watching darkness expand between their borders, he said, “Maybe it’s Lirih?”
“Maybe it’s not.”
The rectangle complete, sparks of color burst through the black.
I took Jarryd’s arm and ushered him to the door. As I shoved him into the short connecting hall to the nurse’s chamber, he paused. Clutching the boy tighter, fear darkened Jarryd’s eyes. “Are you sure a barricade is enough? If this is more eldring…”
I placed my left hand on the baby’s back and woke the obsidian. A grayish glow spread out from my palm to encase the boy. I pushed harder and the shield swept over Jarryd. “That’ll hold for a day. Now go.”
Out of time, I shut the door on his response. I grabbed a tall chest along the wall and dragged it over to conceal the door’s outline. Moving to the center of the room to wait, I drew the sword I’d taken off the guard downstairs. The steel tip had barely sung free before the blackness parted and he stepped through.
“Hello, L’tarian.” Jem smiled wide, revealing his exceptionally sharp front teeth. “It’s been a while.”
TWENTY TWO
I hadn’t been face to face with my father in a long time. For two years I’d glimpsed at him through a drug-addled haze as he and Draken tortured me. When he tried to kill me in the empire, we’d each been hitching a ride in someone else’s body. Oracle spells had shown me various stages of his life. But I hadn’t seen Jem clearly with my own eyes for nearly three years, since the night I ran him through. He’d changed—and not for the better.
Jem stepped away from the still open door. Its blustery wind grabbed the edges of his brown leather cloak and beat it about his ankles as he approached.
I brandished my sword. “You can stop right there.”
Acquiescing, he slowed to a halt. “It’s good to see you again, son.”
I snorted a laugh. “Sorry I can’t say the same.” I ran my eyes up and down him, wondering how long ago his skin had been fully replaced by the pewter-gray, leathery hide of an animal. In places, patches of a downy layer of black covered the hide, but the top of his slightly elongated head was still bald. His lips, as they curled into another eerie smile, were thick and dark. His nose, jaw, and brow had all widened. Beneath his cloak, his back had the familiar curve of an eldring.
Impatient for my scrutiny to end, Jem tapped the thick, clawed fingers of one hand against his leg. Open exasperation lit his gaze. Larger and more oval than a man’s, his eyes were still Shinree white. He’s not channeling. The door isn’t his creation.
That doesn’t mean it’s hers.
Squashing my false hope, I fought my urge to ask after her as well. Any mention of Lirih would alert him to her importance. Instead, I insulted him. “I wonder what your citizens will think about having an eldring for an emperor. Probably not much, I’m guessing, since you control their every thought.”
“Most wouldn’t know what to do with free will. The Shinree of this generation are a diluted echo. They have no opinion, no education, and even less ambition.”
“You could help with that. You’re in a position to shape the future of our people…if you gave a damn.”
“What more would you like me to do? I’ve set them free. I’m building them an empire.”
“You’re building yourself an empire.”
“And when it is done, I will soften my hold. They will see the glory I’ve created through clear eyes and beg me for admittance.”
“I’m sure you’d love that.” I put my sword away. He’d never make it that easy. “What do you want, Jem? You didn’t come to fight or we’d be at it already.”
“Yes, we would.” He folded his claw-like hands in front of him. “I need your help.”
My laugh was harsh. “Guess your balls got bigger, too.”
Jem’s heavy brow went tight. He narrowed his eyes and his thick lips opened in a disturbing snarl. It was an intimidating expression that disturbed me far more than I let on. I was glad when he broke off his gaze and started strolling about the room. He pretended first to admire the trinkets on the mantle. Next, he moved onto the painting on the wall. It was a chart listing the generations of Arcanas that had lived and died in the castle. The border was a brilliant blue. The names were stitched in gold. He couldn’t see either color. The way Jem squinted painfully at the firelight, he saw as the eldring did: in shades of purplish gray.
He roamed over to the white wooden crib. For a full minute, Jem stared in silent reflection at the tiny bed belonging to Jarryd’s child. I imagined when he was done he’d regale me with some wistful tale of what could have been. For a brief time I’d wanted to believe my father meant such musings. That in some small way he cared. It was a flicker of hope that had died as quick as it was born. That didn’t stop Jem from trying to exploit it every chance he got.
Except this one, I thought, surprised as he turned from the crib without comment.
He gestured at me. “Your scars have progressed.”
“They have. Though not like yours. Any chance you know why?”
“Many factors, I imagine.”
I waited, but he offered nothing more. “Didn’t you say you wanted my help?”
“Need is a more accurate word.”
“Then I want to hear it. What you left out back in the empire. What you know about the crown and the spells woven into it.”
Jem’s lips pursed unhappily around his pointed teeth. Not liking the view, I turned away and threw myself down in the chair in front of the hearth. It was only a moment before he came to stand in front of me. “I will tell you what I’ve learned about the eldring spell,” he agreed. “Then, you will listen to my request.”
It was better than nothing. I nodded my agreement and he began.
“Generations after the crown was created, the Ruling House discovered an unforeseen side effect to their ancestors splitting the lines. Something happened when our people’s focus was narrowed to one specific type of magic—and then practiced for generations.”
“When you hone a single ability, it increases.”
“Yes. Over time, each line became stronger. Possessing a naturally higher vitality, soldier
s bred faster and became the largest, most dangerous of the nine. The rest of the populace grew to be afraid of their volatile, unpredictable nature.”
“So they lopped off their magic at the knees, so to speak.”
“A softer approach was tried first. Each soldier was bound to another’s soul; as you and I have done with Draken and your Rellan. It was an attempt to, as they called it, ‘calm the beast that lies within a soldier’s heart’. But more often than not, the nature of our line prevailed, and the binding only increased the aggression of those who were made nef’taali. I imagine you’ve seen something similar with your own other?” Not about to discuss Jarryd’s emotional state with my father, I remained silent, and he went on. “For the soldier line to continue, the Ruling House had to diminish its strength.”
“The eldring spell. I know there was a vote. How did they sell it?”
“When the House announced that multiple oracle visions had confirmed the empire’s imminent downfall if a change was not made, the vote to thin the herd was met with only modest disagreement.”
“In other words, the quake was foretold, but it was blamed on us?”
“I am unclear if the quake itself was seen, only that a collapse of our society was looming. Soldiers had little support not won by fear. The only greater fear was the unimaginable end of the empire.”
“Why didn’t we overtake the erudite and be done with it?”
“Despite their savagery, our forefathers had a deep sense of pride. As soldiers, they were honor-bound to protect the empire at all cost…even from themselves. With a chance that it might fall, and they might be the Shinree’s undoing, our line had no choice but to comply with the wishes of the House. When it was done, the soldier’s numbers had been reduced by half. Those that remained still held adequate power to protect the land, but their drive for conquest, the blind lust that overtook them in combat, their primal instinct for violence, was gone.”
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Borne Page 19