I screamed. I thought I screamed, anyway, along with Tressa. I could feel my mouth open and the strain in my throat, but I couldn’t seem to hear anything. Niero opened his mouth in an obvious shout as he surged after the knights.
Chaza’el stepped forward, eyes wide.
Kapriel closed his own eyes and lifted his face, fists clenched at his side, as if in agony, beseeching the Maker.
Killian, Azarel, and Niero circled us, partially crouched, looking toward the trees, preparing to defend us. They worried that Keallach was only the first of many of our adversaries. I reached up to my arm cuff and patted it, wondering if it was working correctly. Why it was neutral. Because it didn’t know if Keallach was friend or foe?
Then everything clicked into real-time action. Fast. Loud. Everyone moving and shouting at once.
Keallach remained on his knees, palms open, as if surrendering. “I am unarmed!” he shouted to Ronan, as my knight lifted his sword to strike, just feet away. “I mean you no harm!” He kept his head bowed, shouting it again and again. “I mean you no harm! Mercy! I beg you for mercy!”
Ronan’s mouth twisted into pure, impotent rage. I knew his loathing then. His hatred for our brother-enemy. Jealousy. A thirst for revenge. My heart wrenched in terror for Keallach. And yet I also knew enough of Ronan to realize that he would never kill a man who wasn’t trying to even fight for his life. It was dishonorable.
Still, I was moving before I quite realized what I was doing. Walking calmly. Sliding between Ronan and Bellona. Then, turning to stand between them and Keallach.
Ronan’s frown increased, his sword still in the air. “Dri …” he bit out, sweat rolling down his temples, even though it was in the cold early morning hours.
“Ronan,” I said, lifting my hands to him. “Please put that away. We are in no danger here, together.”
“She’s right,” Vidar said. “He’s alone.”
Still, Ronan stood there, sword hovering, as if he still had half a mind to drag me aside and murder Keallach. “You would defend him?” he raged at me. “Even after all he did to you? To us?”
“Was it him?” I cried. “Or Sethos? I swear I saw evidence that he was manipulating Keallach, making him do things, messing with his mind. Perhaps he has, all along!” I dared to glance Kapriel’s way, testing my theory to see if he might agree, but he was looking to the ground, shaking his head slowly, hands now clasped together.
Niero sighed heavily and turned halfway around to lay a gentle hand on Ronan’s arm. Without a word, Ronan lifted his eyes to the starless sky, heaved a breath, and then sheathed his sword. But then he shoved between Niero and me to reach Keallach. He lifted him up to his feet, both hands fisted in Keallach’s shirt, and pulled his face close. “Why are you here?” he grunted. “Tell us!”
Keallach didn’t look away; he only stood there, with no fight in his stance whatsoever. We were all silent, waiting. “I am here to answer the Call. I’m very late. But I had no choice. After I spent time with Dri …” He glanced my way, hopeful, but I only frowned back in confusion, desperately trying to get some sort of emotional foothold with him. “And nearing you all and what was unfolding in Zanzibar … The Maker brought it all up again for me,” he rushed on. “And I knew I had to leave Pacifica behind, if necessary, in order to serve with you. Ever since …” He dared to look my way again, but Ronan stepped between us. “Ever since Andriana left the palace, I’ve been … adrift. Agitated. And I realized that it wasn’t just her I was longing for. It was you. The Remnants. My Ailith kin. The Call itself. You were all in on something that everything in me longs for too.”
I think we all held our breath a moment, wondering if we’d heard him correctly. Ronan let out a choking, scoffing laugh and then tossed him backward. Keallach narrowly kept his feet, but then he just stood there, chewing on his lip and clenching his fists, and yet choosing not to engage Ronan. Slowly, he looked from one to the other of us. “I know you all must be skeptical, but it’s the truth. I’ve been called, the same as you. And I am here to answer. As well as beg you for mercy. I know I’ve done terrible things. That my men have—”
“Enough!” Azarel cried, nocking an arrow and aiming toward Keallach. “He lies! You cannot believe a word from his mouth!”
He looked at her again, squinted, and then said, “Az? Azarel? Is that you? It’s been … it’s been so long.”
“Not long enough,” she ground out, arrow still aimed at his throat.
“Azarel,” Kapriel warned, pain still etched in every syllable he uttered. This was tearing him apart, seeing Keallach again.
“I agree,” Bellona said, pacing back and forth, hands on hips. “I say we kill him and be done with it. His people almost killed Andriana. And her parents. And he would’ve let Kapriel die! This is no brother of ours! Kill him! Now!”
Keallach was shaking his head, hands still up. His misery and sorrow engulfed me.
“No,” I said. I wasn’t quite ready to fully defend him. But neither was I ready to see him murdered. “We can’t.”
I didn’t have to reach far to feel the renewed rage and jealousy within Ronan.
“She’s right,” Tressa said.
“No, Tress—” Killian groaned.
“No, listen,” she went on. “Did we not just leave the foulest city we’ve ever entered? And did we not just see the Lord of Zanzibar himself turn to the Way?” She looked at each of us until we met her gaze. “Can you deny such miracles? Such changes of heart? Such healing?”
Ronan turned to Kapriel. “What say you?” he asked gently. “You who have suffered at your own twin’s hands?”
When he didn’t respond, Ronan moved on to Vidar, his desperation growing. “Or you, brother? What do you sense in this one? Tell me his blood does not now run with the same oil as his master, Sethos!”
But Vidar remained still, staring at Keallach. After a moment, he gave his head a tiny shake. “He’s neither light nor dark to me. Perhaps he isn’t fully on either side yet. I want to hate this one. Deny him. But Ronan,” he said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, willing him to comprehend the utter neutrality we all felt, “we can’t. We just can’t.”
“It’s a trick! A spell!” Ronan spat out, shoving away Vidar’s hand. “He’s found a way around your gifting.” He turned. “Chaza’el, tell me you have seen the truth,” he said, his voice rising in desperation.
Chaza’el gazed back at him, black eyes somber and still. He bowed his head and then glanced around at all of us. “I have seen Keallach, fighting beside Bellona and Ronan,” he said softly, as if he could not quite believe it either. “Not against them. But that is all I have seen.”
Niero took a deep breath and then sheathed his curved blades on his back. “We must retire to the Citadel. We’ll bring Keallach along, his hands tied. If nothing else, he might serve well as our prisoner.”
“Prisoner?” Killian scoffed. “This one will bring the weight of Pacifica down upon us before we’re ready to defend ourselves.”
“Or with him, we might be more ready than ever,” Niero said, folding his arms and inclining his head toward Keallach. “One who can move objects—a Remnant. Alongside his twin, able to control the weather itself. Between them, they could defend us against anything Pacifica brings at us.”
“Yes,” Keallach said, excitedly nodding. “I know I have wronged you—all of you—terribly. But I can only beg you to seek your hearts. Wouldn’t the Maker be warning you if I was a true threat?”
“Oh, he’s warning us,” Vidar said, stepping toward him. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, brother. We’re not ready for you to nestle into our mother’s bosom quite yet.” He passed him, heading up the path.
“Good,” Keallach said, nodding, earnest. “That’s good. Right. I would expect nothing less. Give me time. Test me.”
“It’s a ruse,” Bellona said, arms crossed, looking to Niero as he began to bind Keallach’s hands behind him. “A means to get inside the Citadel.”
&nb
sp; “We will not bring him inside,” Niero said. “Not until you all agree it is right to do so.”
“I, for one, vote that we keep him chained up outside during the deep of Hoarfrost,” Bellona sneered as she passed him, following Vidar.
Keallach nodded, and I felt the sorrow from him. “That would be just,” he said sadly. I frowned. Could he truly be feeling contrition? Or was it all a trick, as Bellona said? But he couldn’t manipulate minds … only bodies.
Bellona turned, walking backward, studying him a moment longer. Then she just shook her head, turned on her heel, and hurried on.
“What say you, brother?” Keallach said—almost shyly—to his twin.
“I have nothing to say,” Kapriel said. “Other than I cannot trust you. Not after everything. What you ask is … impossible.”
I swallowed against the gathering lump in my throat as I experienced the aching swell of his grief along with him. But Keallach was feeling it too. For the first time, he seemed totally open to me, no walls within. Their combined emotion actually made my knees weak. All of that loss … all of that brokenness …
Keallach stared back at his twin and looked as if he might cry. Behind him, Niero finished binding his hands. “There are not enough apologies to make amends,” Keallach said. “I can only beg you for mercy, brother. Mercy and mercy and more mercy on our past. And give me a chance at a future.”
Kapriel stared back at him. “I don’t know if I can find it within me to give you anything, past or future.” But there was longing within him too, a chasm of loss, harrowingly deep. I’d never sensed it in him before, and now it came at me like it wanted to pull me in.
Separate yourself, Niero said to my inner ear. These are their emotions; it’s their tragic tale, not yours.
But isn’t it all of ours? We’re all connected.
Not this part. You can’t bear it all as your own, Dri. Take a deep breath, and set it aside as their pain, not yours. If you take it all on, you’ll sink. We need you to swim, Dri. Stay afloat. There is much ahead of us.
I nodded as I passed him, heading toward Ronan, who awaited me ten paces up the path and still seething. Niero was right. If I took on the twins’ grief and Ronan’s rage and Azarel’s bitterness and Bellona’s distrust and whatever else everyone was feeling, it would be too much. For the first time, I thought about my ability to cast emotion into another. I was born to acknowledge emotions. Could I not use that for healing emotions, healing a person’s heart, much like Tressa healed the body? If I could do that, could I not persuade Kapriel and each of the Ailith to give Keallach another chance?
If he was innocent.
But what if he isn’t innocent? Niero asked me.
I scowled. Just because you can read my thoughts doesn’t mean you should.
Agreed. But just because you can cast emotion doesn’t mean you should.
He was quiet then, which suited me. I fell into step behind Ronan, who hiked up the trail with the longest strides possible, which he knew bothered me since it meant I had to practically run to keep up. After a while, I let the distance spread between us, forcing him to slow down if he wanted to stay beside me. He could be angry. I understood his frustration, his distrust. But he didn’t have to take it out on me.
After a while, I caught up with him again. “I understand why you’re so frustrated,” I said, reaching out and casting a sense of calm into him.
He shook off my touch. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Not now. It feels manipulative.”
“I’m not trying to manipulate you,” I said. “I’m just trying to calm you down enough for us to talk.” But Niero’s words came back to me. Maybe he was right. It wasn’t really fair for me to use my gift on a fellow Ailith.
“I want you to stay away from him, Dri. As far as possible. I just don’t trust him.” He looked over his shoulder, down the trail.
“I know. I will. Until we all are fully satisfied, I promise to be with him only when we’re in a group. All right?”
Ronan took a deep breath and offered me his hand. “All right.”
I slipped my hand into his, and we resumed our hike up the trail. It wasn’t long before we knew that the Aravanders were with us, edging nearer, so stealthy that we could not yet see them. They were the perfect guardians for the Valley, able to easily get close enough to discern enemy from friend.
“Take your ease, guardians!” Bellona yelled from fifty paces ahead. “We are the Ailith, returning home. Bellona and Vidar here!”
“Killian and Tressa here, along with Chaza’el!” shouted Killian from behind them.
“Ronan and Andriana here!” Ronan called.
“Niero, Azarel, Kapriel, and our prisoner here!” Niero finished.
I frowned that he did not name Keallach and went so far as to call him a prisoner. But it was probably for the best. Keallach was no favorite among the Aravanders, particularly after their recent losses north of Pacifica. They might string him from a tree or shoot him through with arrows before we had half a breath to intervene. Thankfully, the dark of night would keep them from recognizing Kapriel’s twin. It was best to wait until morning to reveal him so we could address the issue with the elders and the Community at large.
But by the time we reached the Citadel, I knew there would be no waiting until morning.
CHAPTER
23
RONAN
As soon as we got to the Citadel and I saw Dri safely to our room, I paced by the window. “Why don’t we each grab a sauna or shower and a change of clothes before dinner?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Ronan, where are you really going?”
“I just need to see to some things,” I mumbled, already turning toward the door, working on concentrating on nothing but feelings of peace and tranquility, trying to block her attempt to read me.
“See to Keallach, you mean,” she said, moving toward me. “Let me come with you.”
“No, Dri. I need to handle this alone. I want you to stay away from him. At least until we decide what is going on. Let me do some fact-finding, all right? At least for tonight. I promise I’ll report everything I learn. And I promise not to harm him. Yet.”
She put her hand on my chest and looked up into my eyes for a long moment. “All right,” she said softly. “But please … don’t hold anything back from me. I remain separate for your sake, and to honor your request.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice coming out a little strangled. I knew Dri didn’t understand why I was so angry and agitated with her, but she’d just have to wait to work things out with me. There was a fairly large part of me that wanted to beat the truth from Keallach’s lips.
She tilted her head up, and I bent to give her a quick kiss. But it was clear to both of us that my mind and heart were not focused on her.
I doubled back and fairly sprinted down the hall and through the tunnel, emerging outside beside the boulders. I found them down below, Niero holding one of Keallach’s elbows, Killian holding the other, and facing four of the elders. Citadel guards encircled them, all carrying torches. Four Aravander archers were at intervals too, each with an arrow nocked. It made sense that he’d chosen Killian to assist him and sent the others inside. He’d suffered the least when it came to Pacifica’s emperor, our brother. My mind practically spat out the names, and Niero’s dark eyes shifted to me for a moment.
“I still don’t understand why you’ve brought him here, to our very door,” Cornelius said, his voice tremulous.
“We had no choice,” Niero said. “He met us on the path at the mouth of the Valley. We could either kill him, bring him along, or let him follow. We thought it best if we kept an eye on him.”
“Father, I am here, begging for mercy,” Keallach said. “I know I do not deserve it and—”
Cornelius lifted his age-spotted hand to stop him. He leaned close to his face. “Your words mean nothing to us, serpent-eater.”
I think I took my first breath. Finally, someone was going to put a stop
to this madness and send him away.
The elder circled Keallach and his captors, slowly, his watery eyes never leaving our adversary. When he had completed his circle, he clasped his hands, bowed his head, and stood silent. The other elders did the same, understanding what he was after. After a moment, he lifted his chin and looked to Niero. “What do you propose we do with him, my son?”
“Leave him out here, secured and under guard,” Niero said. “I will stay too, on guard, to make certain he doesn’t use any of his gifting to make his way out.”
“You are immune to his sorcery?”
“It isn’t sorcery—” Keallach began.
“Sethos has warped what was given to you by the Maker into something foul indeed,” seethed the elder, getting nose to nose with him. “If that isn’t sorcery, I know not what is.”
“But that’s why I’m here, Father,” Keallach returned, lifting his brows, suddenly looking younger. “To seek your assistance. I want to be free of him—every bit of him. I need your prayers, the Maker’s cleansing. Healing. Can you not aid me in that endeavor?”
His words brought Cornelius up short.
The old man lifted his chin and stared at Keallach, unblinking. He glanced to the other elders, silently seeking input, but they too remained silent. “Bind him, hand and foot, to the biggest tree about. Keep him under guard through the night. We shall seek the Maker’s guidance in this and make our determination as to what to do come morn.”
Cornelius looked to Keallach, then to the Aravander leader on his left. “Summon your people. Establish the series of new posts we discussed earlier. I don’t want any further surprises.”
The Aravander inclined his head, accepting the assignment, and turned on his heel, slipping into the darkness of the forest.
“We are prepared for attack, come this night or any night this Hoarfrost, or next Harvest, or the next. Tonight, we rest and seek the Maker’s guidance,” Cornelius repeated, and then he left the circle, the matter clearly settled for him for now.
The others followed him, leaving Keallach alone with me, Killian, Niero, eight Citadel guards, and three Aravanders. Keallach lifted one brow. “Fourteen men to guard me?”
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