by Rin Chupeco
The azi was quick. Scarcely an hour passed before we caught sight of the mountain range destination looming ahead, and I directed the azi to take a circular route over it, trying to determine if there were armies on the ground already locked in battle.
What I saw froze my heart. The black-and-yellow banners of the Drychta already surrounded the base of the largest peak. I saw soldiers in armor scaling its heights, no doubt seeking a cave or entrance within. Not too far away, the gold and red of the Odalian banners marched toward the Drychta. A large portion of Aadil’s troops had already turned, their intent to engage the Odalians obvious.
I felt Kalen’s hands on my waist, anchoring me against him as I ordered the azi to make for the open space that separated both combatants, which was narrowing by the minute. The daeva dipped headfirst, barreling toward the ground at dizzying speed. Just before impact, it shifted abruptly so that its heavy, clawed talons struck up soil and dirt, sending storms of sand rising up to obscure our vision.
The unexpected appearance of the azi was enough to give the Odalians pause, but the Drychta showed no such prudence. They focused on the daeva, yelling battle cries as they pressed forward, weapons at the ready. Among the approaching crowd I could make out the glittering runes of Fire, Wind, and Mud that Drychta spellbinders hurled at us.
Kalen was busy forming a spell of his own, taking advantage of the azi’s speed to create the largest rune I’d ever seen across the sky. As the army drew near, he made a quick, cutting gesture, sending a concentrated wave of knifelike wind that took down whole columns of soldiers, bowling them over before they could cast their own magic. At the same time, the azi snarled and turned, its spiked tail whipping the nearest soldiers and tearing several of them in half. Likh made a gagging sound beside me and squeezed her eyes as Khalad held her, shielding her from the horrific view. Kalen’s spell had taken out hordes of men, mowing them down like stalks of wheat, and the others immediately scrambled for safety. Several of the spellbinders had held back though, and now their spells came spiraling toward us.
I didn’t stop to think. I pushed my thoughts, the azi’s still tied to mine, and wove both the Raising and Puppet runes in quick succession. Almost immediately, the fallen soldiers righted themselves, their features blank, and rushed before us, taking the brunt of the magic that sizzled through their bodies and creating a human barrier that gave Kalen enough time to construct a Shield rune of his own.
I ordered other undead toward their comrades, and soon the Drychta were fighting their own previously deceased. The azi raised its three heads, adding fire to the chaos, and the line holding the Drychta defenses faltered. More soldiers turned and fled, leaving only their dead behind.
“How did you raise so many?” Kalen asked me, chest heaving from his exertions.
I stared at the Drychta dead. I heard their protests and sensed their resistance; I felt them struggling against me, unwilling to give me power over their bodies.
And yet I could.
I let go, and the babble of angry voices faded from my head. The soldiers dropped, dead in every sense of the word once more.
“Was this one of the gifts of Stranger’s Peak that Agnarr mentioned?” he asked.
I should not have been capable of raising so many fighters, even with the Puppet rune and the azi to draw strength from.
“Let’s talk about this after we see Kance,” Kalen suggested, though the worry didn’t leave him. I nodded and glanced back at Khalad and Likh to see how the two were faring, finding them shaken but unhurt.
The Odalians had not joined our efforts when we engaged the Drychta, but neither had they retreated. Instead, they stood some distance away, warily eyeing the azi, who snorted and ignored them. One of them rode forward cautiously, and I saw, to my surprise, that it was General Lode.
“Milady,” he greeted us uncertainly. “This is the last place I expected to see you again.” He turned his gaze to Kalen. “It is equally surprising to see the Duke of Holsrath.”
“I relinquished all claims to the dukedom, sir,” Kalen said irritably. “And Kance can insist that I am eligible for the throne after him and Khalad all he wants, but he needs to understand what official abdication means.”
General Lode coughed. “I presume, then, that you are to assist us in our war against Drycht?”
“Why is Drycht even here to begin with? And why has Kance sent no word to Kion or to the Yadoshans for assistance until the very last minute? He cannot imagine that sending out armies without aid would result in a victory. King Aadil is not known for his honor. Where is he, by the way? Still at the palace?”
“That is not entirely true, Kalen,” came an all-too-familiar voice as King Kance stopped before the daeva, taking his white horse in hand. His tone was how I remembered: soft, pleasant, quiet. “For one thing, I am not, as you can see, in the palace.”
• • •
“Are you a blithering fool?” Kalen exploded the instant we reached the Odalian encampment. His heartsglass had been a stormy mix of silver and blue, but he had reined in his anger until we were within the safety of the improvised garrison General Lode had constructed, away from any unexpected attacks by the Drycht. The azi had trotted after us, settling itself comfortably outside the Odalian defenses, one head keeping an eye on the fortifications while the other two watched the horizon intently.
“I did what I had to, Kalen.” King Kance had changed. He’d grown his hair longer, and he was thinner. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, more prominent than when I had last seen him. His skin was darker as well, like he’d been spending more time under the sun. He no longer made my heartsglass flutter like it had when I was a novice, but it hurt to see him all the same.
“I’ve had to make a few adjustments in the last few months.” King Kance didn’t look at me. In fact, he acted like I wasn’t even there at all. “We’ve caught more than our share of Drychta spies skulking about Odalia, which aroused my curiosity. Mithra’s Wall straddles the border between my kingdom and the Yadosha city-states, and all our information pointed to some secret goings-on there by our brothers of the south. Aadil is a crafty bastard; he’d sent a reconnaissance group at first, no more than four or five people, to infiltrate the mountain. But one of Lode’s patrols caught them. We sent several Deathseekers to back those soldiers, and fortunately, they were no match for us, though the survivors chose to kill themselves before we could interrogate them.
“But rather than explain himself, Aadil responded with an even bigger army, as you can see. They spent months sailing around the Yellow Sea and skirting along Yadosha’s Eternity Mountains to avoid our patrols. They want something important from these ranges to go through all this trouble.”
“This is not a good enough reason to insert yourself in the thick of battle,” Kalen growled.
“My father kept me in the palace for most of my life, Kalen. You know that—you were there. He laughed when I asked to be taught proper swordsmanship, and it was you who gave me lessons in secret. I am sick and tired of not knowing what is in my own kingdom. I barely knew what went on in my own palace! If I had been wiser, perhaps Telemaine would not have connived with a Faceless for so long!”
I rarely saw Kance angry. The cold fury he displayed at our last meeting had been the first and last time. But he had clearly grown accustomed to anger and could now wield it like a finely sharpened knife. Quietly, I grieved for the role I played in his change.
“I found some of those Drychta spies in Kneave, Kalen,” the king continued. “In my own palace. If I cannot be safe there, then I will not be safe anywhere.”
“Wait, Your Majesty.” I didn’t need him to acknowledge my presence. But talk of spies in Kneave brought to mind the vision I’d had of him in battle, and I would much rather face his icy wrath again than remain uncertain. “There have been cases of a strange new rune in Kion—they call it Blight. It transforms its victims i
nto daeva-like monsters, and there is no cure, save for the early prevention and treatment of its symptoms. If I may, I would like to use a Delving rune on all of you, to determine if anyone has been affected.”
Kance had fallen silent as I spoke, and for the first time since we had seen each other again, his green eyes were on mine, though his face was neutral. He inclined his head, barely enough for a nod. Not trusting myself to look back at him again, I wove the rune and sighed in quiet relief when it displayed none of the red glows that marked the affected.
“We need to conduct the Delving on all the soldiers who’ve come with you,” Kalen said tersely. “Why didn’t you ask us for help? Do you no longer trust us?”
“This is not the time, the both of you,” Khalad said quietly. “We think a Faceless hides in Mithra’s Wall, allying himself with King Aadil’s army, and we suspect it might be Druj.”
“If that is true, then we would appreciate any help you can give,” General Lode said brusquely. “We have come with our own Deathseekers, but they will need updates on any information you may have, Kalen. What strategy do you propose?”
“Leave the Faceless to us. But we’ll need the rest of the Drychta distracted. That’s where your men come in, General. Draw as many of them away from the base of Mithra’s Wall as you can and keep an eye on the azi. Let it fight, and retreat when it starts spurting fire. You may not want the daeva involved, but it’s our weapon to use.”
General Lode frowned. “It sends ice through my veins, having that beast near. I cannot guarantee that my men won’t behave foolishly if it lies between us and safety, milord.”
“Tea will tell it to keep its distance from your soldiers.”
“A good compromise. Milady, some of my Deathseekers vouch for your trustworthiness, but many of my soldiers have not been given the same education. They might not cotton to being delved, however that works.”
“I’ll go with you,” Khalad told me, rising to his feet. “They remember me, at least.” He turned to Likh. “Will you come with me, milady?” he asked softly, humbly, and the smile that spread across the asha’s face was heartwarming.
“Stay, Kalen,” Kance said, and it was hard to read the intent in his heartsglass. “We need to talk.”
Kalen nodded, equally as expressionless. “Tea, I’ll find you later.”
“Will they be all right?” I asked Khalad worriedly, glancing back to watch the rest of the generals dispersing, leaving the two alone.
“They need to talk out their issues.” Khalad grinned impishly. “Stubborn mules, the both of them, though you wouldn’t think it of Kance. I know it doesn’t sound like it right now, but trust me—they’ll reconcile. They always do.”
“She tells the truth,” King Kance affirmed. “Kalen and I were estranged for a while. We talked of many things that day. About my father. About his life in Kion. But mostly, we talked about Tea.” He smiled wryly. “Did you know she had a brief infatuation with me once? I never realized. She was always so quiet and polite.”
The letters had mellowed the king, and further convincing from both Lady Zoya and Lord Fox had the soldiers withdrawing their weapons from my throat. But the king was still suspicious, and a few of his men idled nearby “for my own protection.” We were to reach the base of the Hollow Mountains in the morning, but the king showed no desire to sleep in preparation.
His distrust also did not prevent him from inquiring further about the letters and Tea, particularly the gaps in his knowledge from her unexpected disappearance to her sudden emergence in Daanoris. His hostility softened as we spoke, and I caught glimpses of the prince he might have been when the Dark asha had been new to the Willows, neither none the wiser about the future ahead of them.
“These letters,” he noted, “are unfinished.”
“We could not recover the last few pages, Your Majesty.” I was still ashamed to admit.
“No matter. If the bone witch arrives as you claim, then it is easy enough to ask her what follows myself.” He stared into the fire. “That was another one of my mistakes. It is easier to criticize the crown when its weight isn’t heavy on your head, I suppose. My father—he was not as good a man as the people think. But he was not always a villain. Tea, I believe, is the same. I wish we could have talked then; instead, I gave in to my anger and sent her away. I was inconsolable. It felt like an abyss had opened inside of me and directing my rage at her would somehow close that chasm. I had every reason to blame her. But…the situation has changed.”
“You are no longer angry?”
“We have come to a…tentative understanding. I understand her better now than I did then. I am sorry about her sister. Fox thinks she can no longer be trusted. He is afraid that the Dark bides its time, waiting to take over again and find another victim. He doesn’t want her dead, but he sees no other recourse.
“I think differently. She raised my cousin from the dead. It is a feat of silver heartsglass no other Dark asha has ever repeated. For that alone, she has my eternal gratitude. She loves Kalen—fiercely, wholly. And I can understand her agony. If she succeeds in her attempt at shadowglass, if she can find a way to take the Dark out of her, then I will pray for her success.”
The king allowed himself a smile, grim yet full of promise, spreading across his face like calligraphy. “After all, who better to understand a kinslayer but another kinslayer?”
19
To everyone’s relief, none of the Odalians exhibited symptoms of Blight. “I’m glad we got here in time to give them due warning,” I said soberly, after delving the last of the soldiers. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I had gotten Kance sick.”
Khalad sighed. “Tea, Kance feels just as badly about what he did as you.”
“He has an odd way of showing it. He won’t even look at me.”
“He’s a bit awkward in that respect. Kance rarely loses his temper. That he was even this mad tells me he cares deeply for you and Kalen. Give him time.”
We’d arrived at one of the two tents where Khalad and Kalen had stored their belongings. Likh and I were sharing the second. Likh was waiting for us and cleared her throat. “Tea, would you mind if I switched places with Kalen?”
“Huh?” Khalad asked, though he was already blushing.
“Please do,” I said. “I was about to make the same suggestion anyway.”
“Thanks.” Likh shot the Heartforger an inviting, if a shade nervous, smile before disappearing inside our tent.
“So,” I continued once the asha had gone, “you and Likh, huh?”
Khalad was still red. “The morning at the Gorvekai’s…it wasn’t what you think.”
“That would be a shame, because if it was, then I couldn’t be any happier for you two. Why so embarrassed?”
“It isn’t like I’ve got much experience in relationships. I don’t want to move too fast. I don’t want to make Likh uncomfortable.”
From my vantage point, Likh was moving ten miles to his five, but I refrained from pointing that out. “She’s had a horrible crush on you for a while, Khalad.”
“You knew?!”
I shrugged sheepishly. “Just talk with her. Don’t assume what she wants. Don’t make the same mistake Kalen and I made. As I recall, you pointed out nearly the same issues about us once.”
Khalad smiled faintly. “I suppose it’s easier to judge when you’re on the outside looking in, isn’t it? Thanks. I’ll go see if she needs help.”
He stepped into our tent. I was about to enter the adjoining quarters but stopped short when I saw King Kance heading my way.
“Wait.” There were no accusations in his voice, but there was no offer of reconciliation either. “Tea, if I might have a word with you?”
I nodded, not knowing what to say. Kance gestured toward the campsite, where the generals and soldiers sat for their noonday meal. I followed his lead.
/> He said nothing for several minutes, content to walk in silence, but my nerves weren’t getting any calmer the longer he was quiet. “Where is Kalen?” I finally blurted out.
“He’s talking strategy with General Lode and the other Deathseekers. Given his experience with the Faceless, I thought it best to trust his judgment.” He glanced at me. “I hear that the two of you are together. My congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, staring down at my boots. It wasn’t all that long ago when I was congratulating him on his engagement to Princess Inessa and wishing it were otherwise. It was strange how a year could change everything.
We passed a few more soldiers eating their rations and trading stories around the fire.
“And where is Fox?” he asked.
“He’s in Kion.”
“I’m surprised. You’ve always been inseparable.”
“Things change, Your Majesty.”
He was sharp enough to take the hint. “Would you like to know how my father is doing, Lady Tea?”
“How—how is your father, Your Majesty?”
“Dead.” I was taken aback by his calm. “He died two weeks ago, shortly before we left Odalia. I swore all my trusted counsel and generals to secrecy, and I intend to make the announcement once I return.”
“But…Your Majesty. How—”
“I killed him.” His admission was brutally simple. “I was surprised by how easy it was. All it took was a pillow over his face while he ranted and raved. Khalad was right. He was not always a good father, Lady Tea. He seemed strong and imposing, his reputation towering over me since I was a child, and that never went away as I grew older.
“Once, when I was very young, he had me watch while he put down a horse who’d been mortally injured. ‘If you must kill something,’ he told me, ‘then you must do it cleanly and quickly. Put it out of its misery without causing more pain.’ It was almost like that—putting him out of his agony.”