“Do the Kadaries need the whole world or only our continent?” I asked.
“The whole world. There are too many of them, and Kadari clans aren’t known for their peaceful co-existence. They form alliances, they break alliances; their favorite pastime is betraying and killing their neighbors. In order to survive, they have agreed to forget about their inner disputes and follow a single Kadari warlord, but as soon as the war is over, whatever the result, they will resume their quarrels. They have already divided all our continents and islands among their clans. They don’t need the el’Tuans, not even as slaves. They want a clean world.”
“Who is their leader? The Regent?” I remembered the Kadari I had doused with wine less than a year ago.
“No,” Mervin shook his head. “The Regent and the young queen are dead. The head clan now is that of ar’Gor, and Stinn ar’Gor will be the warlord while his mother has proclaimed herself a new queen.”
I got up and went to the window. It was dark outside, just a moon splinter and a few lone stars blinking through gaps in the clouds. I stood there, thinking about our dark future. Had I been wrong to fight the Specter when she wanted to kill the Kadari children? Had she known the Kadaries’ plans for Terrine? If Specters hated the Kadaries so much, could they help us in the coming war? Or were they powerless outside the Abyss?
The next day I was walking along a gray corridor when a sudden vision flashed in front of my eyes: the whole world empty, devoid of any sapient life, with only Mervin and me alive.
That was absurd, but it stuck in my mind, causing feelings of confusion and fear, as if I had foreseen the inevitable future.
I shivered, suddenly cold. No, it was just my apprehension, nothing more. The Great House of Shorall had never had any fortunetellers, and I wasn’t going to be the first.
Mervin was in the room connected to his favorite laboratory, sitting at a table piled with papers. He glanced up as I came inside and without even a casual ‘hello’ said, “Riel, do you remember Thor Ash’Corga?”
“The heir to the Island Empire?” I could forgo such simple courtesies as greetings, too. “Sure I do.”
He had known how to make an impression, that Thor. And I couldn’t say the impression was totally positive.
“Why do you ask?”
“Tomorrow he will visit Quein, the Lord Dragon’s residence. Karos has granted him an official audience. Your presence is also requested.”
“I see.” Thor was all right, but I had no wish to face the Lord Dragon again.
Mervin quirked his eyebrow.
“Riel, the Lord Dragon won’t eat you. I promise.”
I huffed.
“Of course not! He will only chew me and then spit me out.”
Mervin shook his head.
“The Lord Dragon won’t hurt you…,” – and amended after a short pause - “as long as you don’t argue with him or make him angry. When Karos is angry, he has some problems with self-control.”
I eyed the taheert incredulously, but no, he hadn’t been joking.
“You do love cheering me up and giving me happy thoughts!”
Mervin just shrugged ruefully.
Chapter 3
Quein, a small town much older than Alm-Tiren, seemed to have become the new capital. Not officially yet, but all the administration offices and officials (the ones who survived) were relocated here.
The audience took place in Quein’s old fortress, its biggest and most ancient building. It seemed everything had been put together in a hurry, and the faces of local aristos showed both pride and fear at the idea of the Lord Dragon choosing their tiny town for his temporal residence – with fear much more prominent.
I greeted everybody present, smiled politely and said all the courteous words a princess was supposed to. Former princess, but still…
Mervin’s warning put me on my best behavior. I wasn’t going to die here because of an etiquette breach.
All the local aristos eyed me with a mixture of surprise and pity, trying and failing to figure out why the Lord Dragon wanted me here, or, more importantly, kept me alive. Yet, my face was a mask of peace and coolness. As soon as the evening was over, I would take this mask off together with the heavy expensive dress and dozens of golden pins that held my hair. I would take all that off and become myself again. Later.
The Lord Dragon sat in a tall chair. Mervin stood to the left of him and a bit behind. The gray metal of a broad bracelet gleamed on the taheert’s wrist, and only a Giftless commoner would have called it a decoration. The bracelet was so filled with the Lord Dragon’s magic it poured even through the shields. Mervin had explained, after I had nagged at him mercilessly, that the artifact linked him to the Lord Dragon, and it would work even when they were in different worlds. It seemed the Lord Dragon didn’t like the idea of his governor being captured again.
Sometimes, the Lord Dragon asked something, and Mervin stooped down to him, answering quietly. Though curiosity made me move closer to them, I couldn’t make out any words, only a low murmur, the perfect magic defense against nosy subjects.
A few minutes later, the grand procession of Thor Ash’Corga and his numerous escorts entered the hall. None of the guests had weapons and the islanders’ magic was bound by threads of obedience.
Well, nobody could accuse Karos Dakaant of being a trusting person.
Thor walked through the hall, his face solemn, his eyes gleaming. I bit my lower lip, fighting back the strongest urge to throw just one tiny Air thread to make the too important prince stumble and, if I was lucky, hit the carpet with his proud nose.
Thor neared the place where I was standing and our eyes met. Alas, but Ash’Corga Junior had always had an irritating ability to guess my unvoiced thoughts.
“Don’t you dare, little cousin,” the prince hissed though his teeth.
I sighed. Even if I tried anything now he would notice. A pity.
There was a respectful bow from Thor, a polite nod of acknowledgement from the Lord Dragon and long mutual assurances of what a pleasure it was to finally meet. With a growing surprise, I realized that my cousin was completely sincere: for him that audience was really a great honor.
I remembered belatedly that in the past the priesthood of the Island Empire had marked us as heretics for the raids to the Lord Dragon’s territory. After Grandfather died and a few decades passed peacefully, the relationship between our states grew friendlier and Father had taken the only daughter of the former island emperor, my mother, as his wife.
We had been allies for a few more decades after, but then Father made another alliance with the Chaos Adepts and everything fell apart. Five years ago, my uncle, Thor’s father, had tried to reason with Father one final time. It was also the last time I had seen Thor.
My older cousin hadn’t changed. He was still very tall, an inch taller than Mervin, still dark-haired, tanned and a dandy. His outfit was embroidered with gold; he wore a few rings with precious stones and a tirinin armband that was worth more than a warship.
I looked at Karos Dakaant, comparing the two rulers. His outfit was dark and plain, no decorations at all. At the official ceremony that could have seemed insulting were he not the Lord Dragon. Who would argue etiquette details with the person able to annihilate your entire country in a matter of two weeks? Or two days if you didn’t have strong magical protection.
The main distinction, though, was not in their clothes but in the feel of power around these two men. Thor’s Gift was strong, but seemed nonexistent in comparison to the Lord Dragon’s, whose magic reminded me of a storm cloud, always ready to strike you with a lightning bolt.
When the official part was over, I felt a slight touch to my hand from Mervin.
“Thor wants to talk to you.”
We met in a small hall off the main audience chamber. Thor was standing near the window. For a few moments, we eyed each other, then I looked around the room, picked the most comfortable chair, sat down and nodded to Thor graciously.
“You may sit, too, dear cousin.”
He raised his eyebrows, then shook his head and laughed quietly.
“You are impossible, Riel!”
“Am I?” I pouted, “I’m just being hospitable.”
Thor didn’t mention that, according to the etiquette, he was of the higher standing and had to be the one to allow me to sit in his presence. He just came closer and settled opposite of me.
“You grew up and became even more beautiful.” He said in a formal tone and then added sincerely, “I’m glad you have survived.”
I averted my eyes, trying to push away the surfacing feeling of guilt.
“I’m also glad to have survived.”
Thor talked about his home, his family, his invitation for Karos Dakaant to visit the Island Empire, and how all the citizens would be happy and blessed to see the Lord Dragon. I listened mostly in silence, making no comment about the little fact that it was the Lord Dragon who had killed my family and burned my home. I knew if I did Thor would just look at me with compassion, shake his head, and blame everything on my father.
Due to Father’s decision, my family had allied with the Lord Dragon’s worst enemies, those who had killed his brother and had tried to kill his heir, and dragons weren’t known for their forgiveness. Thor would definitely add something about justice, and how it was time for us to pay for all our past sins.
I knew all that, so I remained silent, making no comment about the delight in his voice and reverence in his eyes while he mentioned the Lord Dragon’s name over and over. I greatly doubted, though, that any of these feelings were related to Karos Dakaant as a person. For Thor, the Lord Dragon was just a living symbol of both awe-inspiring power and his religion.
In moments like these, I felt as if the islanders belonged to another race. We shared our looks, our language and some customs but their religious views were fanatical.
Thor also mentioned that his father had been terribly upset at the news of his sister’s, and her family’s, untimely demise, and he would love to see me – if the Lord Dragon allowed it.
“If the Lord Dragon allows it, I will visit your home gladly,” I nodded to my cousin. It was nice to know my relatives cared, though I didn’t doubt what their decision would be were there ever a choice between my life and the Lord Dragon’s goodwill.
Chapter 4
The roof of the summerhouse tried to protect me from the drizzling rain, but each gust of wind threw inside a new bunch of droplets. Some of them landed on my face and ran down in sweet tears, others glowed on the heavy silk of my dress like tiny pearls. On the whole, my attempt to improve the wielding – blocking, actually – of Water Element yielded quite a poor result.
The easiest thing was to create the complete wall of power to hide myself from both the rain and the wind, but I wanted to separate the Elements, leaving the Air unbound and freely moving, and to catch only the rain. I knew how to do that in theory, but not in practice.
I weaved the threads into cobwebs of protection, but they slid away and hung nearby, mercilessly teasing.
There was a reason that pushed me to learn more magic, the memory of the enormous power the Specter had wielded. It was a painful memory: as if a person blind from birth suddenly saw the world’s beauty only to become blind again.
Anyway, it was all in the past, the Specter had gone from my reality. She wouldn’t return. I repeated over and over that I didn’t want to become a vessel for an Abyss Specter, that I wanted to be myself, Riel Shorall, and nothing more. Perhaps, if I repeated that enough times, I would believe it.
I needed to remember something more important than magic, more attractive than the Other-Riel’s lost power. I smiled to myself. Mervin, my stubborn el’ero. I was seven years old when we first met.
*****
Many years ago…
I was five when I learned how to make my nanny fall into a magic-induced sleep and how to escape from the gijmej, the part of the palace for women and little children.
The gijmej was a relic from the ancient times and as far as I knew nobody but the royal family followed that custom. It didn’t mean, though, that Mother was chained to that place. Probably because anyone bold enough to suggest such a thing to the queen wouldn’t have survived the experience. No, now it concerned children only, in fact, just me, because all my brothers were much older.
My confinement seemed a terrible unfairness, so, to make things right, I learned how to slide unnoticed by the guards. Sometimes I fled through the windows, sometimes through the back door used by servants. At that time, I had no idea how to weave threads or order the Elements, so I made up my own way. I dissolved in the shadows. Or I thought I did.
I imagined my own shadow lengthening and mixing up with shades in the corners of rooms and down corridors. I thought them whispering to each other and then accepting me in their dusk society. My steps became inaudible, my bright dress, colorless. I imagined a grayish patina covered me from head to toe until I was a part of the shady gloom.
I couldn’t say if it was a special child’s magic or a work of my too vivid imagination, but when I was a child no one was able to see me if I didn’t wish it.
I was six when I discovered the seductive lure of the inner forest of the palace. That forest stayed cozy and warm even in the coldest of winters thanks to many Earth Sources.
Only the Shorall were allowed into the inner forest. My parents were busy ruling the kingdom, my brothers, all of them adults, were tirelessly looking for new entertainments, so the forest was mine. Once I was told, “If something belongs to you, you must take care of it.” I was a good girl. I always took care of whatever was mine.
One hot summer day when I was seven, my nanny drifted off to the realm of daydreams in the gijmej, secure in the knowledge that I was peacefully sleeping behind the lowered curtain of my bed. The guards stood patiently outside of my chamber. It was a usual summer day, and as usual, I was in the inner forest, settled by a small spring intently watching the life of tiny fish, frogs, tadpoles, dragonflies and other interesting creatures.
Something distracted me from admiring two little snakes swirling together at the bottom of the spring and I jumped to my feet. It was a stranger’s presence. The forest belonged to the Shorall, and it was unhappy with the intrusion.
The forest was much bigger than it seemed from outside. Father had told me once that it had been created with magic so ancient no one knew how to repeat the spell. Our inner forest included hundreds of thousands of centuries-old giant trees, five lakes with countless springs, even a labyrinth of underground caves, all somehow rolled into just several acres of land.
The forest led me along the spring until I saw what had made the ancient magic so angry. An unfamiliar el’Tuan was sleeping on the lawn, his long slender body stretched out and one of his hands put under his head as a pillow. He looked about the same age as my eldest brother Kamir and the same height. And here, the similarities ended.
Kamir, with his beautiful fair looks, bright blue eyes and attractively tanned skin had nothing in common with the pale and black-haired outsider. Still, the stranger’s features were well-defined and his dark, thick lashes were long.
I tipped my head to the side, considering the man. There was something oddly attractive about him, something both right and wrong. I wondered if he, so different from my brothers, could warrant the definition of handsome.
The stranger opened his eyes. It took him less than a second to become fully awake and alert to my presence. Then, he got up to his feet in one fluid movement and turned to me. Our eyes met, just one moment, and all my thoughts disappeared, leaving an echoing emptiness.
I couldn’t say how long it lasted. I just stood there, stock-still, having no idea who and what I was. The simple world of my childhood broke into myriads of shards and was put together again, but in a different way.
When I came to my senses, the black-haired el’Tuan was still standing there. He just raised his eyebrows, as if waiting for an explana
tion from me, though he was in my forest. And I stared at him, slowly realizing that this el’Tuan, his name still unknown, would never be a stranger. Somehow he became a part of me, as my body, my thoughts, and my magic were.
All my life had been divided into two unequal parts: before I met my el’ero and after.
*****
The rain had changed from a drizzle to a downpour, and streams of water drummed a raucous march on the wooden roof. I turned around, feeling somebody’s presence in the previously empty garden. The flow of water blurred the outlines of the surroundings so I saw the approaching silhouette when the person was already close.
I gathered the threads, forming a cocoon around myself, quite a pathetic defense but the best I was capable of now.
“I’m so sorry for interrupting, my princess,” a voice came out of the rain, letting me recognize the newcomer, Kamila an’Kriy, the former lover of Sedd, my third brother. I had no idea she had survived.
Relaxing a bit, I settled on the bench but didn’t release the defense threads. The last months changed everything and I didn’t know what to expect from Father’s former subjects.
“Not sure I still have the right to be called a ’princess’.” I said with a sigh.
Kamila came to a halt three steps from me and gave me a considering look.
“Of course,” she said, and her tone made my skin crawl. I looked over her, and noticed her formerly slender body had turned painfully skinny. There was an unhealthy paleness to her face and a harsh, even cruel, glow in her eyes.
“So, Riel. You do realize that you have lost your right to that title,” Kamila said, and I winced involuntarily when she pronounced my name. So much hatred. “The last of the Great House of Shorall, why have you survived when your family died?” her voice quivered with anger.
The Last of Her Line (The Shorall Chronicles Book 1) Page 13