The Crown of Stones: Magic-Borne

by C. L. Schneider

  At some point, I must have let go of the crown. I saw it in the corner of my eye, suspended as I was, hovering in the air above the swamp. Both of us held fast in the embrace of the spell. As we always have been.

  The individual auras had joined, Their colors had merged, cancelling each other out until what fled, floating around me and burrowing into the crown, was a light so white and pure, it startled me.

  I’d always believed the crown and I both were dark at the core. But I’d glimpsed the souls of both my enemies. I’d met true darkness. I’d became one with it, been enveloped by it, and came out the other side. Maybe that’s what the crown was doing now.

  Abruptly, our connection broke. I fell onto my back beside the crown. I was gasping and empty. My muscles trembled as I sat up. The swollen clouds were dark. Dusk had chased most of the light away. Hours had gone by. I hardly remembered minutes. Rolling mist curled freely over vegetation that no longer came in shades of green, but in various stages of desiccation. The watery swamp was equally dead. I was lying on its hard surface; dry and cracked like farmland taken by a drought. Shriveled lizard carcasses were all around me. Vines hung black and crispy. Trees, stripped and gray, circled the parched land like a ring of ancient monuments. The once fearsome skin bear had become a pile of ash and brittle bones.

  I glanced back. My father’s corpse had been reduced to an almost indistinguishable, shriveled casing. Pieces of him were flaking off and wafting about. His change had been too far along. There hadn’t been enough Shinree left in him to protect his body from such a massive outpouring of magic.

  Jem had wanted me to be his obedient son, his good soldier, his showpiece. Instead, I became his ruin. “It’s over,” I breathed.

  Almost.

  Wrapping a tight grip around the crown, I hauled myself up. I couldn’t see how far a path my destruction had cut, but I didn’t have the strength to find out. The spell would have to reach for its sustenance. I certainly had little to give it.

  Channeling the stones on my shirt, I envisioned my destination. The door as it formed was small and weak. The outline faded in and out. It was already shrinking as I clutched the Crown of Stones to my chest and fell into the windswept black. I didn’t brace myself for a dignified exit. I was torn, battered, mud-drenched, and blood soaked. Pride was a difficult notion.

  Spitting me out a moment later, the void shrunk closed as I rolled to a stop. Darkness was falling over the arena. As long as I’d been gone, I didn’t expect anyone to be around. But she was still here.

  Sitting alone on the sand, dust coated her skin and hair. Her dress was tattered and soiled. It was the same golden dress from before, like she hadn’t left. Like she’d been waiting for me.

  Sienn stood. She ran to me. I felt stronger, somehow, seeing her. She dropped and pulled me wordlessly onto her lap, and I gripped her with all I had. There was something about the embrace. As if it came with more feeling than any we’d shared before.

  I pushed the words from my dry throat. “Call them.”

  Sienn loosened her hold. She gazed at me in concern. “Who?”

  “Everyone. I can give it back, Sienn. I can give it all back.”

  “Just rest.” She smoothed the swamp-matted hair from my face with a worried frown.

  “No.” I grabbed her hand. “You have to send word. It’s safe now. Gather our people. Bring them here. Bring them home to Ru Jaar’leth. It’s time for the Shinree to be whole.”

  FIFTY SIX

  A stiff night breeze swept across the balcony; ruffling the legs of my trousers and sending a shiver down my bare back. I took a swig from the bottle in my hand and chased away the chill. I contemplated going inside. My room was lavish, with a grand hearth and a bed big enough for four. Silk draped off the walls. Stalks of desert grass decorated the corners. Their tall stems burst from polished metal pots whose reflective surface caught the dancing flames and glinted invitingly in the darkened room. But the view from the top floor of my father’s palace was worth enduring the draft. And it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. The desert air was ripe with diverse scents. Unfamiliar combinations of spices mingled with fruit trees and the aroma of freshly cooked meat.

  Breathing deep, I counted the stars popping in the violet sky above the distant mountains. Closer, dark buildings and rooftops defined the city. Firepots blazed inside the wall a bright orangey red. They reminded me of eldring eyes.

  I stared over the rail, wondering if Lirih was down there, wandering the maze of intersecting streets. I hoped she was celebrating. Because of her the eldring were free. They were reuniting with mates and offspring. And with the brief aid they provided Malaq in the conflict, the eldring a chance to be something more than monsters.

  The door to my room opened. Soft steps followed. I smiled, recognizing Sienn’s gait. I hadn’t seen her since returning from the swamp. I’d slept for nearly a day and a half after. For another two days she’d sent food, clothing, and messages with her apologies. I didn’t mind. Establishing order in a city built on tyranny and coercion was not easily done. I’d spent the time alone working with the scars and getting comfortable with what I carried. I was able to read the library at will now. I could reverse the spells that created Lirih and the crown. I was ready.

  And they were coming.

  Sienn had done as I’d asked. Her call went out, without explanation, and Shinree had been pouring into Ru Jaar’leth on nothing but the strength of my promise and her word.

  She walked out onto the balcony. “You look beautiful,” I smiled, admiring her dress. It was the dark green of uncut emerald. Embroidered flowers decorated the bodice. Stems flowed down to embrace her sides. Silken white petals extended off the neckline. Their delicate edges swept up to brush pale skin. Two narrowed into ribbons, crisscrossed at her throat, and tied at the back of her neck.

  Color graced Sienn’s cheeks as I took her hand and spun her around, enjoying the low-backed design that flaunted the stones on her spine. Her eyes were as white and reflective as a frozen lake. Loose hair brushed like diamond strands across the strong bones of her cheeks.

  Their angles softened as she returned my smile. “I apologize for not coming sooner.”

  “Don’t. You were busy. I imagine Jem’s spell left his citizens with quite a hangover.”

  “They have experienced disorientation, which I believe has kept their anger at bay. As have your actions on their behalf. They are calling you a hero. The Liberator of Ru Jaar’leth.”

  I cringed. “I hope you set them straight.”

  “How could I when they are erecting a statue in your honor.” At the discomfort on my face, she laughed. It was a rare sound.

  “There’s no statue, is there?”

  “Not yet. But their gratitude is deep. Many returning soldiers would be dead if not for you. They say when Jem’s spell broke, men all over the battlefield dropped to their knees and wept. ”

  “And the resurrected?”

  “According to Jarryd they turned to bones and fell where they stood, as if held together by Jem’s will alone.” She stared a moment. “Jarryd arrived not long ago. He’s asked to see you.”

  I took a drink of the wine. I wasn’t ready for that yet.

  Sienn sighed, her worry showing. “Have you seen anyone?”

  “Lirih came by yesterday morning. She was taking some eldring into the mountains, trying to help them find a place to settle. She’s probably back by now.”

  “And Krillos?”

  “We had dinner here last night. Then he decided he needed to visit the kitchen and teach your Rellan cook how to make Arullan Ale. Haven’t seen him since.”

  “Ah. That might explain why no one has seen the cook, either.”

  Swallowing, I nearly choked. “What does she look like?”

  “Buxom.”

  “Good for him,” I laughed. “How many of the other races are still
here?”

  “Very few. Most have returned to their previous lives. And I doubt they feel comfortable here. They do not yet trust we can control ourselves.”

  “We can’t.” She blanched at my candor. “It’s true, Sienn. Many are casting for the first time. Once they get a taste of being magic-blind nothing else will matter.”

  “Do you not see a place for us in this new world?”

  “I do. Word will spread of our freedom. Prejudice will fade. But until then, until we can prove we mean no harm, our people are safer here.”

  “This city isn’t just about safety. Children will be born here never knowing the taste of Kayn’l. They’ll be born out of love. Not some breeder’s whim. This will be their home.” She afforded me a quick, nervous glance. “It could be our home.”

  Saying nothing, I drowned my unease in a long swig of wine. “How many are we?”

  “The number has climbed too high to count. I’ve opened doors in all realms. A steady stream arrives hourly.” She hesitated. “Is that not what you asked? Your request that I bring them seemed urgent.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She wanted more. When I didn’t give it, Sienn followed my gaze. It wasn’t aimed at anything in particular. But she assumed otherwise. “Your mind is far away.”

  “It is.”

  “You should know. She sat by your bed a while that first day. Yet, she refused to remain until you woke. She claimed you would try to stop her. Though, I believe her quick departure was for her own benefit more than yours.”

  “Who are we talking about?”

  “I thought you knew. Jillyan and Elek were scheduled to sail for Arulla this morning.”

  “Jillyan left? Without saying goodbye?”

  “According to her, she already said goodbye.”

  I thought back to our parting at the arena. “I guess she did.”

  “I understand you will miss her. Jillyan is a bold woman. Dynamic. Sensual. Intelligent. But Arulla’s treaty with Mirra’kelan is strong. You have no cause to worry.”

  “I will miss her, yes. But worry? Elek’s the one who should be worried. Being compelled by Jem is nothing compared to falling under Jillyan’s spell.”

  “I can imagine. It is a shame, though, her leaving. To lose her knowledge of our history when we need it most…Jillyan could have taught us so much.”

  “She isn’t a teacher. You are.”

  “But even if you restore what Jem took, my grasp of our history is minimal.”

  “What if it wasn’t? What if you knew enough to return our people to the glory Jem didn’t know how to achieve?”

  Understanding lit her gaze. “You have something to tell me. In fact, you have for some time.”

  Staring past her, watching shadows play in the streets below, I wavered. “My search for the tablets didn’t go like I expected.”

  “I asked Jarryd what happened at Darkhorne. He said you two were separated for a time, but no memories passed to him. How can that be?”

  “Magic. Stronger and older even than the Crown of Stones.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s easier if I show you.” I pulled her close. “Touch my chest.” Her brow scrunched and I clarified. “Put your hands on the scars.”

  She did. Our skin made contact, and she cried out, “Ian, what…?”

  I closed my eyes. Reaching in, feeling the magic of the runes fused into my skin, I traced the designs in my mind. I pulled them apart, untwisting and putting them in order. Mentally, I transformed the outwardly visible veil of swirling scars into the symbols they truly were.

  Hearing Sienn gasp, I opened my eyes. Together we watched the glowing scars shift and separate. She breathed in the vibrations I was giving off. “Incredible.”

  “I didn’t find tablets at Darkhorne, Sienn. I found the past, the beginning. I met my Fate.”

  Worry paled her face. “What happened in that room, Ian?”

  “It wasn’t a room. It was the room. It was where your ancestors channeled for the first time. It was where the first magic-users worshiped the auras in the stones and created a god, where we first experienced the pleasure of being magic-blind. It was a library; a repository of all the history and information of our people, a storehouse of all the workings ever done and all the runes ever written. The scars aren’t a corruption or an affliction. They’re knowledge.”

  Sienn stared at her palms pressed against me, at the glow leaking out from beneath, and shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  I put my hands on top of hers. The pulse vibrated through her skin. “This is our history. This is how the Shinree will secure the future we were always meant to have.”

  She laughed; a dismayed, nervous sound. “I have never seen you this optimistic and hopeful.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “It makes me smile.” She did. Reflexively, I did as well, and delight sparkled in her eyes. She averted them and brought us back on topic. “You can access this library?”

  “I am the library. I thought I had to be the weapon. I thought I had to kill to bring peace. Fate showed me another way.” I concentrated harder. The last of the scars fell into position. My skin lightened rapidly as the runes formed; lines of intersecting characters and symbols pulsed and glowed against the visible layers of my skin.

  Tears moistened her eyes. She circled me, inspecting from every angle. “Magnificent.”

  “It’s yours.”

  “What?” Shock replaced her awe. “No, I…”

  “I can’t keep it, Sienn. Besides, I’m no more of a teacher than Jillyan is.”

  “You could be. You have erudite blood same as me.”

  “I’m nothing like you. You know that.”

  “What I know, is that you’re a far different man from the one I met in Kael. That man denied the blood in his veins. He stood in a conjured bathhouse with me and said our continued slavery was an acceptable solution. That man had been raised to believe he shouldn’t care. But you do.”

  “And I have my own way to show it. This is yours.” Before she protested further, I said, “Bond with me.”

  Sienn stepped back. “Ian…”

  “Temporarily. I can show you. Share with you. Give you what I know. You can turn this city into something great. I know that’s what you want.”

  “It is. But why would you give up such a gift?”

  “Because if I keep it, I can’t cure us.”

  “Cure us? Ian, you’re not making any sense.”

  “My father promised you freedom. He promised it to all who believed in him. I can fulfill that. I can cure us. I can end our addiction.”

  Swallowing, her voice shook. “How?”

  “I can read the scars. I can feel how the spells of the crown go together…and how they come apart.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The missing pieces of us—what we crave—is stored inside the stones of the crown. Destroying the artifact will release and return what was taken. When that happens, our people won’t be magic-blind anymore. They won’t feel cravings. They won’t bear the burden of need versus conscience. They’ll cast when they want to, not because they have to.” I released my hold on the runes. The glow faded. They slid back into the familiar lines and swirls of the scars. I took a breath. It was time to come clean. “The original spell was forged with a blood sacrifice. Reversing it requires the same. But if I do, if I don’t pass this on first, the library will die with me.”

  Sienn stared at me. I watched comprehension darken her gaze. She closed her eyes and her head fell against my chest. I thought she might cry. But she stayed in my embrace a long while, not moving, not speaking, like she lacked strength for it. I wrapped my arms around her, hoping to give her some.

  Abruptly, Sienn lifted her head. “There must be something you missed.�
��

  “There isn’t. And I don’t have time for months of research only to end up back at the same conclusion. Our people need to learn how to exist now, within the boundaries of Malaq’s peace plan. Otherwise, the laws won’t matter. We’ll be feared and hated same as before. You know I’m right.”

  Sorrow strained her voice. “When will you…?”

  “Tomorrow. If I wait any longer, I might change my mind.” I took her face in my hands. “It has to be you, Sienn. With this knowledge and a trained erudite to guide them… It has to be you.” My finger rubbed the line of her jaw. “It was always you.”

  She started to speak, and I kissed her. It was a long, deep, gentle caress. It was a tender declaration of all that was unsaid and undone between us. An expression of what I’d never been brave enough to admit.

  Breaking away, I led her off the balcony. Inside, we stopped in front of the hearth. As the warmth of the fire enveloped us, I kissed her again. My hands went around her slender frame. My fingers played with the stones on her back. It was erotic the way they roused at my touch; one after the other. Their sensations sunk into us both then dimmed as I released them, then sparked to life as I woke them again. “I know Jem forced these on you,” I said. “But they’re beautiful. Will you keep them?”

  “Proudly,” she said. “In honor of Karis and all the women of the empire that died the day it fell. It seems the least I can do.”

  “Karis would like that.” I pulled her in. “As do I.” Sienn’s arms encircled my neck. The contours of her body pressed through the thin fabric of her dress; soft curves and hard nipples. As my tongue entered her mouth I was struck by how, despite all the times I’d touched Sienn, this felt like the first. There was no pretense or manipulation, no desperate need. No hiding behind spells or illusion. There was no audience or expectation. It was simply us.