Realm of Light

by Deborah Chester

  “What do you intend to do?”

  A groan from one of the men told him they were starting to wake up. He gave her a brief smile. “Have you ever flown in the air before, my beloved?”

  Her eyes widened, and she gasped. “You mean, ride the dragons?”

  “Yes. It is very high above the ground and frightening at first, but you would be—”

  “Why, Caelan, we would be in Gialta in a matter of days instead of weeks. Perhaps quicker. They can fly like the wind,” she said excitedly, looking not at all afraid. “Can you convince them to take us willingly?”

  Gray Hair stirred and slowly sat up, cradling his head in his hands.

  Caelan watched him grimly. “Willingly or not, they will take us.”

  “Then arrange it quickly,” Elandra said.

  Caelan walked over to the Thyzarene and hauled him to his feet. He gave the man a rough shaking to finish waking him up, then shoved him back.

  “Your name,” he said.

  The Thyzarene blinked at him slowly, his eyes filling with humiliation and hatred.

  “Your name!” Caelan barked.

  “I am Bwend,” the man replied. His voice was sullen. But his gaze now took in Caelan’s imperial armor and the large emerald in Exoner’s hilt. He glanced at Elandra and came to attention. “Bwend, rider of Nia. Formerly dispatch flier in the Seventh Corps.”

  Caelan was pleased. If the man had once had some military discipline pounded into him, he would be somewhat easier to handle. He pointed. “And this other man?”

  Bwend didn’t bother to look at his still unconscious comrade. “Fotel, rider of Basha.”

  At the sound of its name, the burned dragon lifted its head and roared.

  “Are you kin to the boy?” Caelan asked, ignoring the dragon.

  “No,” Bwend said curtly.

  “You’re lying.”

  Bwend shot him a hostile look. Resentment simmered in his lean, weathered face, but he said nothing.

  “Are you his father?” Caelan persisted.

  Again Bwend said nothing.

  Caelan was tempted to let it pass, but he knew this issue had to be dealt with now. “Kupel threatened the life of her Majesty,” he said. “None may do that, whether child or man grown. None.”

  He deliberately made his voice harsh and unsympathetic. He knew enough of the customs of these people to understand that they did not respect weakness or compassion.

  Bwend frowned, and a flicker of something incomprehensible passed through his face. Caelan hoped he accepted the explanation; he would despise an apology. Not that Caelan intended to offer one.

  “You are my prisoners,” Caelan said. “You have attacked her Majesty, and no man may do that and live.”

  Bwend’s chin lifted. His eyes grew blank and steely as though he prepared himself for execution.

  Caelan drew his sword, letting the sunshine flash along the blade. His face was like stone; his eyes gave nothing away. From the corner of his vision he saw Glandra bring one hand to her mouth. He prayed she would not interfere.

  Perhaps she understood what he was doing, for she said nothing.

  Caelan slowly extended the sword until the tip rested lightly at Bwend’s throat. The Thyzarene’s forehead crinkled, and he swallowed hard. Otherwise, he stood there stoically, refusing to beg for his life.

  Cursing his stubbornness, Caelan let the silence stretch. As he stood there with the man’s life in his hands, he felt anew the temptation to make one quick thrust. In the blink of an eye, there would be one member of E’nonhold avenged.

  But he held back the old rage. This was not the place or the time.

  Bwend was staring into his eyes, and the Thyzarene’s own had widened at what they read in Caelan’s. Perspiration broke out on his forehead.

  “Majesty,” he said, gasping as Caelan eased the sword tip closer against his throat, stopping just short of piercing the skin. Bwend’s eyes flashed back and forth. “Leave to speak,” he choked out.

  “Granted,” Elandra said coldly.

  Caelan could have kissed her. She was playing the role of an outraged monarch perfectly. For once her haughty tone was exactly right.

  She swept Caelan an imperious glance. “Let him speak.”

  Caelan lowered his sword.

  Bwend dropped to his knees at Elandra’s feet. “Majesty,” he said, his accent blurring his words, his eyes carefully cast down, “have mercy. The beacons have flashed the message across the empire that you are missing. Reward has been offered. We sought only your Majesty’s recovery.”

  “You attacked us without provocation,” she said, no mercy in her voice. “You would have killed—”

  “No, Majesty!” Bwend protested.

  Caelan struck him across the mouth with the back of his hand. “Do not interrupt her Majesty!”

  Bwend sank lower, spitting blood on the snow, silent and obedient now.

  The other Thyzarene groaned and rolled over.

  Caelan spun around and grabbed him by the back of his fur tunic, hoisting him up bodily and shoving him over beside Bwend. Fotel’s dark eyes squinted, then lost focus. He groaned, supporting his head in his hands.

  “Let me kill them now, Majesty,” Caelan said.

  “Wait,” she replied.

  Bwend glanced up in hope, and slowly Fotel also raised his head.

  “Tell me the truth,” Elandra said. “Swear on your blood-oath that you meant me no harm.”

  Bwend didn’t hesitate. He held out his hand to Caelan, palm up. His gaze never left Elandra’s, not even when Caelan sliced open his palm. Bright blood welled up in the cup of his hand. “I swear I meant no harm to your Majesty. I gave loyal service to the emperor while he lived. I would give loyal service again.”

  Tears welled up in Elandra’s eyes. No longer playacting, she gently placed her gloved hand on the man’s head. “I will accept your oath and service. Your help, if you will give it, would do me great service now.”

  Hope flashed in his face, swiftly masked. “Anything, Majesty.”

  “Fly me and this man to Gialta,” she said.

  Bwend looked surprised. “Gialta!”

  He and Fotel exchanged looks. Suspicious again, Caelan edged closer to Elandra and gestured for her to move back.

  She did not. Her face was very stern. “How swiftly your oath is forgotten.”

  “Nay, Majesty,” Bwend said quickly, bowing his head. “I do not refuse. It is only that Gialta is far from here. Very far. There is trouble—”

  “What kind of trouble?” she demanded.

  “We have heard rumors only. But they are all of Madruns—”

  “Madruns in Gialta?” Elandra said, anger rising through her voice.

  Caelan took over the questioning now. “What have you heard?”

  “That is all,” the Thyzarene said.

  Caelan frowned, not believing him. “Do these Madruns come from over the border? Or are they leaving Imperia?”

  “The new emperor has driven them from Imperia. They flee into Gialta—”

  Elandra clenched her fists. “New emperor be damned! That traitor! I would like to see him gutted and left hanging for the vultures to peck!”

  Enraged, she paced away. Both Thyzarenes stared after her with new respect.

  “Truly a lady of warrior blood,” Bwend said cautiously to Caelan.

  He nodded. “Her father is Gihaud Albain of Gialta.”

  Fotel looked blank, but Bwend obviously recognized the name. “A ferocious warrior. Very rich.”

  “Yes. A man generous to those who help his daughter.”

  “I will fly her there,” Fotel said, his eyes gleaming with avarice.

  Bwend’s elbow rammed into his ribs. “Nay, dog. My Nia will have the honor. She knows the softest wind currents, how to be gentle in the clouds. Your Basha is but half-trained and bad-tempered besides.”

  Basha roared and grumbled as though understanding every word. Across the clearing, Nia raised her head and trump
eted with a proud beating of her wings.

  “Basha is hurt,” Fotel said. “Let me tend him.”

  Caelan sheathed his sword and stepped back. As Fotel climbed to his feet, however, Caelan gripped him by the front of his tunic and lifted him onto his toes.

  “Remember how I struck you without touch and laid you on the ground,” he said through his teeth, glaring at the man. “Remember I can do it again. There will be no tricks from you. Do you understand?”

  Bwend also rose to his feet to intercede. “I gave my blood-oath to her Majesty, Traulander.”

  “Fotel gave no oath.”

  “He is in my service. My oath binds him.”

  Caelan met Bwend’s eyes and wondered just how far he could trust the man’s word, especially once they were high in the clouds.

  “It had better,” he said, and released Fotel with a shove.

  Fotel frowned up at him. “Are you of Neika blood?”

  Before Caelan could answer this astonishing question, Bwend elbowed Fotel aside.

  “Fool!” he said sharply. “The Neika do not fight.”

  “Neither do Traulanders.”

  Caelan looked down at them, and felt suddenly foreign in this land that had once been his. “I am Choven,” he said bleakly.

  Both Thyzarenes blanched and backed up. Fotel stared with his mouth open, fear in his eyes. Bwend bowed with almost the respect he had shown Elandra.

  “We ask forgiveness,” he said humbly. “We have been much mistaken today.”

  Caelan did not unbend. The admission had cost him. He felt as though his identity was being torn away in strips, peeling him down to something he did not recognize.

  Giving Bwend a nod, he asked, “Must the dragons feed before they can fly?”

  “No,” Bwend answered. He jerked his head at Fotel. “Tend Basha’s burns quickly.”

  Fotel sidled cautiously past Caelan and ran to his dragon, who grumbled and butted his head at the man in greeting.

  “I have a request, lord,” Bwend said to Caelan.

  Not once, in all his wildest imaginings, had Caelan ever expected to someday hear a savage Thyzarene raider humbly call him lord. It was bitter to think these men had instantly believed him Choven, even when he physically did not resemble those mysterious tribesmen. It only confirmed yet again the truth of what Moah had told him.

  “What is your request?” Caelan asked.

  Bwend pointed at the dead boy lying in the snow. “That we may bury him from the wolves and lurkers that will come.”

  Caelan did not hesitate. “I will help you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  As long as she lived, Elandra would never forget the experience of flying over mountains, forests, and marshlands, the clouds melting against her face or lying beneath her like a thick carpet. Swathed in furs against the cold, she soared and plummeted, borne easily on the back of the powerful Nia. Her only regret was that she was not cradled in Caelan’s arms. Instead, she rode with Bwend—carefully respectful, but stinking of too few baths, too much peat smoke, and the greasy lard-based salve that seemed to be the Thyzarene solution for everything from chapped lips to burn treatments.

  Caelan rode with Fotel on the bad-tempered Basha. Perhaps the dragon was in pain, or perhaps he did not intend to forget that Caelan had caused his burns. But every morning Fotel had to clamp the dragon’s head between his arm and ribs in order for Caelan to get near the beast, much less climb on. The beast would rear and try to fly without Fotel, snapping at everything within reach of his fangs. At night when they camped in uneasy alliance, Fotel and Basha would move away to be by themselves. Elandra would hear Fotel singing softly in his native tongue to the dragon, cradling the beast’s head in his lap and stroking it gently.

  It took three days of steady flying before the air began to feel warm and moist. The clouds were very tall, rising above them like pillars and sometimes massing into thunderheads. Elandra’s woolen cloak was plenty of protection, and she no longer needed the heavy furs that Lea had given her just before they departed.

  Thinking of the girl, Elandra smiled involuntarily. Lea was as beautiful as her brother was handsome. Gowned in dark blue that enhanced her eyes, she wore a long overtunic of scarlet cloth embroidered all over with dainty flowers, a fur cloak, and soft red boots. Her golden hair hung unbound down her back to her hips, and her dowry necklace was most impressive with nine large, matched emeralds.

  Riding a white pony, Lea had appeared from the forest at the very moment Caelan and Bwend finished burying Kupel. Elandra had been the first person to notice the girl, who rode erect and gracefully like a princess. She drew rein at the edge of the clearing and ventured no closer despite Elandra’s beckoning.

  Whether Lea was shy or afraid of the dragons, Elandra did not know. When Caelan did not immediately notice the new arrival, Elandra walked over to speak to her.

  “You must be Lea,” Elandra said with a smile, eager to meet her at last. “You look so much like your brother. I am Elandra.”

  Lea slid down from the saddle and curtsied to her. “Majesty.”

  “No, we are sisters now,” Elandra said, taking her hand to put the girl at her ease. “Do not be formal.”

  “You are the empress,” Lea said, keeping her eyes downcast.

  “I love your brother very much,” Elandra said. “Does that distress you?”

  Lea did not answer, but finally she lifted her gaze to meet Elandra’s. That’s when Elandra realized the girl was not shy at all. Her blue eyes were as clear as a mountain lake, and as deep.

  Elandra found herself falling into that gaze, and when she came back to herself a few moments later, she was oddly breathless and dizzy. She blinked, putting her hand to her temple.

  “I am glad,” Lea said. “You are worthy of his love.”

  It was a strange, presumptuous thing to say. Elandra could only stare at her, wondering what this girl had done to her mind. She felt as though her thoughts had been sifted and turned over the way someone might go through a box of deeds and papers.

  “Do not be angry,” Lea said. “I had to know if he would be well with you before I let the two of you go.”

  “Let us go?” Elandra said with a laugh. “But you cannot stop us.”

  “I brought you here,” Lea said matter-of-factly. “I could make you stay. But Moah has shown Caelan his destiny, and he must go to it. As you must go to yours.”

  Elandra felt slightly chilled. Her hand went to her throat, and she couldn’t stop staring at Lea, who looked like an innocent child, but who was obviously both a wisdom and a seer.

  “You know of my destiny?” Elandra asked.

  Lea smiled, showing a dimple. “Oh, yes.”

  “Are you of the sisterhood?”

  Now Lea laughed, and the sound made Caelan look in their direction. He brushed soil from his hands and headed their way.

  “No, I am not,” Lea said merrily, her blue eyes dancing. “How angry the Magria would be if she knew you thought so. She would not approve of me.”

  Although the question was rude, impulse made Elandra ask, “And what exactly are you?”

  Lea only threw her a smile and went skipping away to meet Caelan. He swept her up in his strong arms and kissed her on both cheeks.

  “Am I forgiven?” he asked.

  Lea flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “Always.”

  Watching them, Elandra felt like an outsider, then Caelan’s eyes met hers over Lea’s shoulder. He smiled only for her, and she felt warm and secure again in his love. There was no need to be jealous. She and Lea were not competitors in any sense.

  “Are you ready?” he asked his sister, looking at the laden pony. “We must travel light—”

  “Silly, I am not going,” Lea said. She broke away from him and pulled out furs from the pack tied behind her saddle. “I brought you these to keep you warm while you are so high in the air.”

  Caelan scowled, and tactfully Elandra busied herself examining the b
eautiful furs, leaving brother and sister to argue in privacy.

  “What do you mean, you’re not going?” Caelan asked.

  It was what Elandra privately called his barking voice. He could sound very clipped and stern when he was close to losing his temper. Seeing a stubborn light enter Lea’s blue eyes, Elandra thought he should use a different tone with the girl, but it was not her place to interfere.

  “Of course you are going,” Caelan said. “I will not leave you behind.”

  “But the third dragon is dead,” Lea pointed out. “And I have much to do here.”

  “I’ll talk to Bwend. We’ll get another dragon—”

  “No,” Lea said firmly, meeting his angry gaze without flinching. “It is not time for me to leave Trau. Not yet.”

  “I won’t abandon you again.”

  Lea took her brother’s clenched fist between her slender hands and kissed his knuckles. “I am not abandoned. But this is not my path of life, brother.”

  “Lea—”

  “Hush,” she said, trying to soothe him. “Accept what is. Save your fight for what is to come.”

  “I need you with me. You are my conscience.”

  Lea smiled and gave him a hug. “I will come later. I promise.”

  “When? How will you find me when I do not know where I’ll be?”

  “You will go back to Imperia and face Tirhin the Usurper,” she said, her voice so calm and ordinary it took Elandra a second to realize she was speaking prophecy.

  Startled, Elandra dropped the pretense that she was not listening and turned to stare at the girl.

  Lea did not seem to mind. She gave Elandra a gentle smile, then returned her attention to Caelan. Her expression grew earnest, and she gripped his sleeve. “Tirhin was your friend once.”

  “No,” Caelan bit off the word. “Never. He was my owner.”

  “Put away the bitterness,” Lea urged him. “The past is gone. All that remains is the present... and the future. You need him, Caelan. You need to make peace with him.”

  “For what he has done, he cannot be forgiven.”

  Lea frowned. “Caelan, you must learn to forgive! Did today teach you nothing?”