Sworn To Raise: Courtlight #1

by Edun, Terah

  “How?” said Ciardis. “How would they have known? You’ve kept the Land Wight’s location secret. No one knows it’s here.”

  “Yes, but the connection of the Court to the land cannot be faked! The Emperor is that connection from the courts to the land; the Land Wight is the conduit from the land to the Emperor,” Sebastian said angrily. “There are ceremonies my father has had to perform every year since he was a child. He’s gone through them – I’ve seen them. The very same ceremonies that I have gone through myself!”

  He left unsaid the fact that he had failed in those ceremonies.

  Denial came roaring through into Sebastian’s mind. The Land Wight was saying as clear as day that he was wrong – that the emperor had not performed the cermonies. After a few tense seconds, the message became clearer: the Land Wight had taken on the duty of renewing the Courts connection to the lands – weakening itself in the process.

  Sebastian relayed this to Ciardis and she tried to process all that they had learned.

  “Semantics,” Sebastian said tiredly.

  “I don’t think so,” Ciardis said with excitement. “What if the Land Wight has been maintaining the connection this whole time?”

  Sebastian was ready to object that was impossible. Then, abruptly, the Land Wight began to send another flood of images their way. This time, it was too confusing to understand. “Whoa, whoa,” said Sebastian, “Slow down—please. We don’t understand. We can’t understand.”

  The images lessened in intensity as the Land Wight drew back. It began to form a slideshow of their mental images. The projected images showed them the Land Wight’s that the Land Wight hadn’t wanted the land to suffer even if the Emperor didn’t—or couldn’t—hear its needs. In order to make sure the land’s needs were met, the Land Wight had gone to every ceremony from the annual Blessing of the Court to the Midsummer’s Bloodletting for the fall harvest. Each time, it had poured from its own reserves the measure of geological magic required to activate the spell bonding the land and the Algardis family.

  The land magic had come from it, but should have been coming from the Emperor. And then it got worse.

  Sebastian was born, and the Land Wight rejoiced. Here was its partner and conduit to the Court, the one who would help it strengthen the crops and protect the people. It was clear from the early days of his life that Sebastian had the power necessary to partner with the land and join in union with the Land Wight.

  Ciardis and Sebastian saw an image of the Land Wight hovering over Sebastian as a baby, its emotions dominated by joy. They saw the waves of power that rose from Sebastian’s cradle even as a child. They felt the Land Wight’s anticipation. It had been waiting until the first obeisance ceremony, when Sebastian turned five, to introduce itself and initiate the bond between the Prince Imperial and the land.

  But that never happened.

  The Land Wight showed them a horrible place with dead trees, rotten fruits, and terrible odors. The night before Sebastian turned five a man had come into his room. He had not meant the boy physical harm, so the Land Wight had no ability to fight him. He had come and he had formed a spell as the Land Wight watched in grief.

  The spell drew power from Sebastian’s mage core, draining it little by little in a continuous spiral into a small locket. After the spell was done, a golden thread rose from the core of the child’s magic and connected to the locket.

  The Land Wight showed the locket being presented to the Emperor as a gift, and then it showed the sudden manifestation of the Emperor’s power. But the new, unlocked power wasn’t the Emperor’s.

  It was all from Sebastian—drained from his mage core every hour of every day.

  The Land Wight watched in grief, but could do nothing. What was worse was that the locket gave the Emperor the power to act as a guardian of the land, but never gave him the insight to connect with the Land Wight itself—the insight that every Algardis Emperor was born and died with, the ability to feel a disturbance in a distance mountain pass or unease passing through a forest as darkness wafted through.

  “He didn’t have it. My father didn’t have the insight born to the Emperors,” said Sebastian in shock. He stumbled back and sat on the ground in confusion.

  He sat and thought about what the Land Wight had shown them for a few moments. Then he denied it, “My father couldn’t have known.”

  Ciardis crouched in front of him, placing her hands on his arms.

  “There has to be an explanation,” he said.

  “I’m sure there is.”

  “How could my father accept the gift? How could he not know it was coming from me? Stolen from me. Didn’t he notice something was wrong?”

  “I’m sure he would have done something if he had known. Non-mages can’t sense magic. He probably never even suspected you’d been drained if you looked whole and healthy. He must have thought his sudden surge of ability was a gift from the Gods.”

  Getting up, Sebastian flung a hand angrily at the Land Wight. “Do you think it can tell us who did this and why?”

  “I think the Land Wight has shown us as much as it can. It has been helping your family for generations. It didn’t give up on you; you shouldn’t give up on it.”

  “Right,” said Sebastian.

  Hesitantly placing his hand on the Land Wight’s trunk, he showed it his sorrow, and his gratitude for its continued care of the land. How do I take my place as your partner?

  It gave him a warning flash of power, and then opened its mind. Sebastian fell into it, and Ciardis hurried to grab the prince’s suddenly falling body. Cradling his body she eased them down until they sat on the floor – his body in her arms. Grabbing his hand she pressed it to the Land Wight’s trunk. She desperately hoped Sebastian was still breathing.

  He was, but his breaths were shallow.

  Sebastian? Sebastian! she called out desperately, mind-to-mind.

  From far away, she heard his thoughts whisper, I’m here. But it’s too much. There was pain laced through his voice. Too much power from the Land Wight all at once, and not enough from me, he said. I’ll loose all ties to my magic if I can’t break that locket’s connection.

  “Then let’s break it!” Ciardis said aloud.

  As one, they dove down towards his mage core, searching with their second sight for the golden thread that linked his magic to the locket. It wasn’t hard to find. It lay like a fine, pale line lancing out from his core and going straight into the aether, off into the darkness straight towards the locket nestled at the Algardis Emperor’s throat.

  They stared at the pulsing thread, which beat in time with the Prince’s heart. Neither could see a weakness, a strand out of place, or a thin spot where it might be broken. Brushing her mind with his, Sebastian said, I think I can do it. I can see where it connects to my core. I can cut it off from there—but I need your help.

  She nodded from where she sat beside the Land Wight before she realized he couldn’t see that in his unconscious state, and then said simply, “You have it.”

  He went to work, first locking down and turning off his mage core, then gripping the thread that lanced it as best he could. It felt like holding his breath for far too long, but as long as his mage core was locked down, the thread couldn’t draw upon the core to strengthen itself. It began to weaken, and he kept insistently tugging on it. Inch by inch, it withdrew from the core of his magic like a parasitic water worm being withdrawn from a swollen sore. Like a spool of thread winding down, the parasitic thread came out of his mage core piece by piece until he had the very tip in his grip, and with a sharp tug, he snapped it. Ciardis could feel the snap resound through her body as Sebastian drew upon her power for the final act, and her soul sang out with joy.

  As soon as it snapped, his power came rushing in. The power had dwindled to a pitiful ghost now blazed wi
th the power of a contained sun. Ciardis hurried to pull her mind back from his. Even looking at Sebastian’s mage core for too long was blinding.

  Just before she reached her own mind, she felt the Land Wight and Sebastian meet as equals at last. The Land Wight began raining leaves down upon Sebastian’s still form and Ciardis’s smiling face.

  It had been waiting fifteen years to feel that bond again—the bond of an Algardis Emperor to the land.

  Chapter 17

  Moments later, Sebastian awoke in her arms. “How does it feel?” she asked him.

  He gave her a tired but elated smile. “Amazing.”

  She smiled back at him. He sat up, feeling a little dizzy for a few moments, but fine overall. Meanwhile, the Land Wight towered over them in its tree form, leaves and flowers blossoming on its limbs as if it were the peak of spring.

  “Well, it looks like someone is happy,” Ciardis said with a soft smile.

  Sebastian laughed before he said, “It is—I can feel it. Already its power grows. Right now I’m just bolstering it, but soon I should be able to monitor certain land activities myself, leaving the Land Wight free to guard the realm.”

  “All right, then.” Ciardis got up and dusted herself off, then leaned forward to put her hand on the Land Wight’s trunk. It immediately sent her its joy…and thanks. She sent back waves of satisfaction in return. Turning to Sebastian, she said, “I think it’s time we left.”

  Nodding, he turned and said his own private goodbye to the Land Wight.

  As she started walking back toward the platform, Sebastian called out, “Wait. There’s an exit from the mountain in this room.” Sebastian indicated the far wall with a tilt of his head. “There’s a portal down the passageway that will take us out, back to the mortal realm. We’ve been here far too long anyway.”

  “Right,” Ciardis said, stifling a yawn. “I have no idea what I’ll tell my sponsor when I get back.”

  Sebastian shrugged. “The truth might not hurt. Just say you were with one of your patron candidates.”

  Ciardis let out an undignified snort. “Right! I guess I can do that.”

  Grinning, he threw an arm around her shoulders and they proceeded to exit the chamber side-by-side, the tree blossoming behind them; alone again, but not forgotten.

  They walked up a tunnel with a steep incline, and soon they saw the portalway up ahead. It was literally built to span the tunnel, like a pool of shimmering light, and was the only way out. Ciardis asked, “You do know where this will take us, right?”

  “It should take us right back to where we started in the maze,” he said. “Your anklet will direct it.”

  They walked forward, and this time she didn’t feel the stomach-twisting tug of magic, but rather a swirl of power—almost as if they were in a magical whirlpool.

  When they arrived, the first thing Ciardis noticed was that they were not in the maze.

  They stood in a room before a group of people that Ciardis was quite unfamiliar with—that is, if she didn’t count her ticked-off sponsor and tutorials instructor standing in the huddle of nobility. After glancing at Serena and Damias, Ciardis couldn’t help but gawk at the other fifteen or so people who crowded the room, all of who wore the finest court dress.

  A man cleared his throat; he wore the badge of the Gardis and had an imposing stature, and he stood at attention before Sebastian. His dark brown eyes didn’t twitch, and not a muscle moved on his dark skin as he calmly announced, “The Prince has returned. All Hail Prince Sebastian Athanos Algardis.”

  “All Hail,” came the quiet murmur from the surrounding courtiers. Stepping forward, he clasped Sebastian’s hand in his own as leaned toward him and whispered, “It’s good to see you alive, my Prince. When even your mind link disappeared, we feared the worst.”

  Sebastian nodded sharply. “Yes, I should have thought of that. I hope Allornadara wasn’t too concerned, Commander.”

  The commander said nothing, merely stepped back with a bow and turned to face north once more.

  With a groan, Ciardis met the eyes of Prima, whose gloating could not be ignored. You’re in trouble now, came the telepathic taunt, laced with vindictive amusement.

  Ciardis, covered in dirt and tired as all hell, pulled back her lips in what could charitably be called a smile, but most would read as the bared teeth of animal ready to bite.

  Ciardis noticed Prima’s perfectly coiffed hair and beautiful rose-colored gown, wondering, Why is she wearing her second day outfit? It shouldn’t be worn until tomorrow’s Hunt.

  And then she looked around at the lords and ladies gathered, embarrassed at her abrupt entrance, not to mention her disheveled appearance.

  What must they think of me? Out all night…with a patron.

  But they weren’t staring at her; no, they were all staring through Ciardis and Sebastian with the looks of disdain that the nobility usually reserved for those special moments whenever they stepped in horse droppings.

  Self-consciously, Ciardis looked down at herself. She knew she was covered in dust and dirt, and her hair must be a tangled mess. But that didn’t quite explain their stone-cold reception.

  Finally, Serena looked her dead in the eye, gave her an icy glare and the hand signal to bow deeply.

  Ciardis hesitantly did what she asked, and a harsh whisper echoed from one of the gathered nobles. “Turn around, you fools.”

  Ciardis looked to Sebastian, who had turned pale. Interesting—he looks like he swallowed a grape and it went down the wrong way. He was that gray. Together, they mentally decided to do as commanded and turned their backs to the crowd, hoping not to get shot in the back with an irritated bolt of lightning from a highly-strung duke standing in the back corner.

  As soon as she did, she saw the reason her sponsor was furious, and the reason she was never going to live this down.

  A haughty man stood in front of them wearing resplendent court robes, an aloof expression, and the crown of an emperor.

  Ciardis fell to her knees and huddled on the floor, wishing it would swallow her up—or, at the very least, that her dirty hair would untwist from the tangle of braids and hide her flaming face. Sebastian wasn’t so servile, but he did swiftly drop to one knee.

  “My son, welcome back to Court,” the Emperor said upon turning his gaze to the Prince Imperial.

  “Thank you, Father,” Sebastian said as he stood pulling Ciardis up with him by her elbow. Ciardis was fairly sure she heard an audible gasp from Serena’s direction. She didn’t dare look; she would never live this down.

  She also resented Sebastian’s insistence that she stand up. She’d rather have stayed right where she was, huddled on the floor and close to being out of sight.

  “Father,” said Sebastian, apparently reluctant to speak in front of the Court, “May we speak privately?”

  “I’m certain, Lord Sebastian, that your disdain for protocol, blatant dereliction of duty, and complete failure to inform the Gardis of your whereabouts—requiring the use of quite a bit of mage power to redirect your Aether bracelet—can be discussed publicly,” interrupted his father’s Grand Vizier.

  Sebastian looked to his father to slap the vizier down for his impertinence, but the Emperor merely steepled his fingers and waited. Sebastian frowned and prepared to make his case before his father and the court.

  As Ciardis looked over at the vizier she realized something shocking. She needed to talk to Sebastian mind-to-mind now. But she couldn’t project her thoughts without touching, only receive them. As he opened his mouth to speak, Ciardis grabbed his hand and gripped it hard. She stood close enough to him that their cloaks hid the movement from the courtiers gathered behind them but not, of course, his father in front of them.

  What? he snapped through their onnection.

  She ignored his rudeness
and the snide look from the Grand Vizier, who was waiting for Sebastian to make his case, and sent to Sebastian, That’s the man from the vision—the one who created that stupid locket in the first place!

  Sebastian’s face didn’t betray his thoughts as he carefully recalled the vision, looking over the scene of the strange man standing over his bed just before he turned five and thought over Ciardis’s claim. Damn it, you’re right. He couldn’t deny it.

  Turning to the Grand Vizier, he said, “There’s certainly much we could discuss, Lord Martieaus, but my primary concern is why you have been siphoning off my mage powers for so long.”

  The gathered courtiers gasped, though his lord father remained conspicuously silent. Ciardis snuck a peek at the Emperor through lowered eyes and saw that he looked perplexed. “Explain yourself, Sebastian,” his father commanded after a long moment.

  Sebastian called golden fire to his palms. “This, Father, is what I mean,” said Sebastian slowly, “I haven’t been able to call the healing fire from the land since I was a toddler. I can now do this and more. I visited our Land Wight tonight. I saw what the Grand Vizier had done – he’s stealing my mage powers for a decade.”

  “Lies, Sire,” shouted the Grand Vizier as he hurried forth to prostrate himself before the Emperor, much to Sebastian’s disgust. “I would never do anything to harm the Imperial Throne!” he babbled, rising to his knees with a panicked look in his eyes.

  The Emperor stepped forward and caught the Vizier’s chin in his grip.

  “If what my son says is true, Vizier, there is nothing that would excuse it.”

  “I can explain, Sire—” But before the Vizier could finish the thought, his voice was cut off, as if a vise had clasped itself around his throat. The man tumbled back to the floor, gasping for air and clawing at his throat desperately.