by Ivan Kal
Before he was able to complete it, however, a ball of fire slammed into the shield protecting his side, staggering him. Vin glanced to the Norvus’s mage, who was casting spells quickly and throwing them at the pirate mage. Vin took advantage of the distraction and summoned a simple Surge, breaking the binding and dropping to the deck. He turned and ran, jumping back over to the Norvus, letting the ship’s mage deal with the pirate’s. Several of the pirates were on the Norvus, fighting with the crew, and Vin saw a few injured and some dead on both sides—faces that he had seen but never really known. He moved to join in and help, but turned when he saw three of the pirates hurry below deck.
He knew that there was only one reason why they would abandon their friends on the top deck, and so he hurried after them. One of the crew did so as well, getting there before Vin. He grabbed a sword from the ground and jumped down the stairs, running through the narrow passage toward Ashara’s cabin. Vin heard her scream, and then the sound of metal clashing on metal. He reached the cabin and stepped inside to see a bloody mess. The young boy who was in love with Ashara was on the floor, his lifeblood seeping away from the sword in his gut. Two of the pirates were on the ground as well—but the third one was on the other side of the room by the bed, standing above Ashara, who was trying to crawl away.
The pirate’s weapon was raised, ready to end Ashara’s life.
Vin knew that he wasn’t going to be fast enough, not with this body and not with a simple Surging technique. There was only one thing that would be: the technique of the Wind Step. His knees bent even though he knew his body was not ready for this technique, the breath coming to him as easily as thought, his ki moving in a way that he had done countless times—yet never with such a weak and unprepared body. With no hesitation and with no regard for his own life, Vin stepped.
One moment he was standing at the entrance of the cabin, and the next he was at the pirate’s side. His vision exploded into million shards, and his channels burned. Pain shot through him like it never had before. Through it all, he kept one single thought at the front of his mind: Strike. He could not feel his limbs, but still he swung the blade he hoped was still in his hand. He did not feel anything, did not see anything, did not hear anything. His only hope was that he had been fast enough.
Then the pain pushed his mind into unconsciousness, and darkness swallowed him.
CHAPTER NINE
KYARRA
In my dreams they call me the eternal, and I do not see why.
–Excerpt from the Journal of Vardun Con Aroch
“I’m too old…” the King said.
Kyarra remained silent. She could see that he was talking more to himself than he was to her. She instead looked around the small room. Bookcases, elegant furniture, and art spoke of immense wealth. Each piece was ornate, decorated with carvings and gems of all colors. Kyarra had been in the room before, but a few of the art pieces were new. She moved to one of the new ones and studied it. It depicted a large blue dragon flying above a group of mages and warriors. It was a famous battle; she had learned about it in her magical studies— the battle where the last dragon died at the hands of the Mages Guild.
“What did you wish to speak with me about, Your Majesty?” Kyarra asked.
The King sighed and leaned back in his chair. Kyarra stepped up to his desk and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of him. They were alone; the guards and her guardian were waiting outside of the room. There was no need for the King’s protectors inside. Kyarra was unable to harm anyone of the royal blood, even if she had wanted to. Vardun had done everything to ensure that he would stay in Tourran for all of his lives, and nothing any of his following lives had tried had managed to change that. She couldn’t even disobey an order from him. Whatever Vardun had done had made it so that every ruler of Tourran—and only the current ruler—could give her orders that she was compelled to follow. She knew that there were limits, but she didn’t know what they were, Vardun had left precious little information on his spells. Probably because he did not want to risk anyone figuring out what he did. And thankfully, the King had never actually done that. He had always worded his orders in the form of a question. It was why she liked him so much, despite the fact that she was literally a slave to his will.
The King turned his eyes to look at Kyarra. “I’m afraid that a storm is coming. And I fear that nothing we do will be able to stop it.”
Kyarra tilted her head in question.
“Here.” The King leaned over the desk and gave her an open letter. She noticed the cracked seal, and immediately recognized it as the seal of the Lashian Emperor.
She frowned, but turned her eyes to the letter. She read through it once, and then again. Then she turned her eyes back to the King in disbelief.
“This… This is a threat veiled in clever wording,” Kyarra said shakily. “He can’t think that this can stand!”
“Emperor Erius Tou Denorof is many things, but he is no fool. In his short reign, the Lashian Empire has achieved more than in the reigns of any Emperor before him. And now he wants that which no other Emperor has managed to acquire. He wants Tourran.”
“He can’t think that it would be that easy. You can’t just swear allegiance and have Tourran become a part of the Empire. The people won’t stand for it.”
“The Empire of old, the one that existed when Vardun had made his offer, would have been hard pressed to take Tourran. Vardun had been one of the greatest mages of his time. With the fragment of power, he was nigh near invincible. And after what happened during the Shattering, no ruler was about to order their bearer of the fragment in direct conflict with another. Our wealth, natural defenses, and the threat of a fragment of power kept us safe.”
The King sighed. “But Erius is not like any of the previous Emperors. He has expanded the Lashian Empire all the way to the Karok Mountain Range to the east, and he possesses what is probably the best and the largest army in the world, one that has been in constant conflict in the east for centuries. And the Lashian Empire has a massive population, all of which is devoted to their Emperor. Erius is loved by his people, and they would do anything he asks of them.
“His people will not be frightened by the prospect of meeting your power, Kyarra. He doesn’t need to use his fragments of power. His army would overwhelm us by numbers alone,” the King said, shaking his head softly. “Of course, taking Tourran by force would cost him. Our fleet is small but capable, and with you in Tourran any naval attack would suffer greatly. And we have enough gold to buy mercenaries to protect the pass—for a time. But in the end, it wouldn’t matter. He would not bring his fragment bearers in direct opposition to you, but he would use them to get through the pass. All he needs to do then is deny us trade through the southern pass into Amaranthine and burn our farms. His fleet is large enough that they would blockade our sea routes. We would starve within a year.”
“Amaranthine would not stand for that. The moment the Empire attacked they would retaliate,” Kyarra argued.
“They would indeed, but while they have enough strength to defend themselves, the Amaranthine of today simply isn’t up comparable to the Lashian Empire. They might not be willing to so easily allow a Lashian-controlled Tourran, but there isn’t really much that they could practically do if they struck first.”
“Then w could go to the Amaranthine King, ask for their help before the Empire attacks.”
“We would only be trading one aggressor for another. Amaranthine has been breathing down our necks as long as the Empire has. In any case, I doubt that it would even matter.” The King took back the letter and studied it for a moment. “As I’ve said, Erius is no fool. He would not have tipped his hand like this unless he was certain that he would be able to move long before Amaranthine. And I have been getting reports of the Black Sun Legion’s movements… Erius has pulled back much of his best legions from the eastern front. My advisors tell me that it is likely that he simply want his more experienced legions to train his new ones i
n preparation of a new eastern offensive.” He chuckled to himself for a moment. “Either they are extremely stupid, or they are already in Erius’s employ.”
Kyarra looked at the King with mouth agape. “You suspect that they’ve betrayed you?”
“It doesn’t really matter,” he replied heavily. “I don’t think that this letter is as much of threat as it looks like. Yes, Erius could take Tourran if he wanted to. But I don’t think that he would be willing to take the losses that he would take going against you. He would lose a large chunk of his army, and that would only embolden his newly conquered territories to the east to rebel. He has not had the time to pacify them yet.” The King shook his head. “No—he is testing me. Testing all of us.” He paused, his gaze piercing into Kyarra’s own. “Are you able to prepare the spells to close down the pass? A snow storm, perhaps, or whatever you think is most appropriate? We need to be prepared.”
Kyarra bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
* * *
Several days later, Kyarra was in her workroom, casting spells that would lay the foundation for the spell to close down the northern pass into Tourran. It wouldn’t be easy—she would need to move several storms around and cool the air down enough for snow—but she had the benefit of a near-endless supply of anima. Finishing the last glyph, she put just a touch of her own anima into it and let it lay as it was. She did not intend to activate the spell before the King ordered it to be done.
She stepped back out of the circle and relaxed as she released all the tethers to the anima inside. She shook of some of her rigidness out of her muscles, and then stretched her arms above her head. She had spent the last few hours standing and casting spells, and being able to execute precise movements and remain standing for hours required a lot of stamina. She walked out of her workroom and headed back to her quarters for a relaxing bath.
A few hours later she finally went to her library. She had meant to visit it ever since the gathering and her conversation with Lady Havergrove, but she just hadn’t had the opportunity. After a while of walking through her mansion, Kyarra finally arrived at the wall that hid the large double doors that led into the library that was carved into the mountain. She put her palm on the wall, and immediately the glyphs inscribed therein started to glow. A few moments later, the door appeared and opened, and she stepped in. As she entered, she felt a power move over her inquiringly. If any soul other than her attempted to pass through, they would’ve been frozen in space and forcefully thrown back into the hallway. She passed the short corridor and entered the library proper. It was a large dome-shaped room with a few side chambers that had been added over the years by her old lives as they needed more room to store their possessions. She knew that this library presented a fairly large collection of magical knowledge, items, and rare books.
The Eternal Soul might not be able to actually leave Tourran—but gold has a long reach, she thought wryly. And Con Aroch house was very wealthy: books filled the many tall bookcases that stretched upward against the walls on two levels, and ornate furniture was placed around the middle of the room, where she had often found herself comfortably reading. The knowledge collected here called to her, but she was not here today for that. She made her way to one of the side chambers, the one where the journals kept by her past lives were. Her own journal was there as well. The Eternal Soul rarely died unexpectedly, but it had occurred a few times over the centuries. Thus, keeping an up-to-date journal with regularity was of great importance.
Once inside the room, she followed the rows of bookcases containing the journals. The shelves that contained those of her later lives had less actual books, and instead ornate gems had been placed on the shelves. The earlier lives had tended to write down their thoughts, while the later ones had tended to record their thoughts inside gems to be viewed later. Kyarra herself was doing a combination of the two, both recording her thoughts into a gem and writing things down. Sadly, the journal that she was looking into was the written kind.
Finally, she found the seven journals of Jakkon Con Aroch, all bounded together. She picked the old hide books up and walked back into the library proper.
She made herself comfortable and opened the first one. She skipped the earlier entries and moved to the ones that had been made after Jakkon’s adolescence. Then she started skimming the entries, looking at their names and deciding if they were worth a more in-depth look. There was, after all, a lifetime’s worth of entries for her to look through. Eventually, she found a few entries that referred to Vardun, and she read through them.
Most of the earlier ones were the same as her own thoughts, but as she moved forward in Jakkon’s life, she found a few more interesting things. Jakkon had wondered about Vardun’s motives the same way that Kyarra and most certainly every other one of his lives had—but Jakkon had looked very closely into Vardun’s life. Kyarra’s interest only grew as she read about what he had found: he had written accounts from people who were close to Vardun, who had known him almost his entire life. For the first time since she had learned about being the Eternal Soul, Kyarra found herself needing to know more about her first life.
According to Jakkon’s writing, Vardun had always been an honorable person. Someone who had served on the Council of the Mages Guild in order to help people, to make the world a better place. Those who knew him spoke of his great magical talents, talents that had eclipsed the entirety of his generation. It was his great talent that had made him the perfect candidate to inherit the Staff of Storms once the Grand Magi of the Guild died. And the entire council had agreed, making Vardun the next Grand Magi—the head of the Mages Guild. Kyarra frowned at that detail—she hadn’t known. She had read the history of the Mages Guild, and she was certain that she hadn’t seen Vardun’s name on the list of the Grand Magi. But then again she knew the hate that the Guild had for Vardun—they had likely struck his name from their records and histories.
Kyarra continued reading, finally come to the thing she was looking for. According to Jakkon, Vardun had spent many years trying to extend his life—searching for immortality. His success was minimal; he had managed to slow down his aging, but not stop it. Eventually, he came to the idea of reincarnation, and he started planning on implementing it. As far as Jakkon could see, Vardun had spent almost a decade preparing before he cast the spell that bound his soul. He sold all of his properties in Yussia, the home kingdom of the Mages Guild and the place he was born in, then sold most of his magical items and possessions, proceeding to buy the silver mine in Tourran. After that, he spent several months across the ocean on Emaros, in the Free Cities. He had also opened a strange account in what had been one of the newer banks there, in the city of Azagoh. Jakkon didn’t have much information about it; he had only been certain that Vardun had left something in that bank. Yet every inquiry he made to the bank was returned with the same answer—Vardun had made the account so that the bank could only answer questions and release whatever it was that he left in person after some kind of a verification process.
Jakkon wondered why Vardun would’ve done that considering he had made it impossible for any of his following lives to leave Tourran, especially in such a young bank that would probably not survive for long. A side thought of Jakkon’s spoke that a reason might have been Vardun’s seersight, a concept which baffled Kyarra. She had heard of people who had claimed to be seers, but the Mages Guild didn’t consider seers to be credible. Many had tried to prove themselves, but never with any success. None of their prophecies ever came true, and it was widely accepted that there was no such thing as a seer. Yet Jakkon spoke as if it was an accepted fact that Vardun was a seer, and a very capable one at that. In his later entries about Vardun, Jakkon concluded that the reason Vardun had done what he had was because of something he had seen.
Kyarra frowned. There were many answers here, but also many questions. Was this what Lady Havergrove had spoken of when she had told her to read this journal? Was Kyarra supposed to believe that Vardun could predic
t the future, that his reason to bind his soul to the cycle of reincarnation was because of something he had seen? She shook her head and closed the journal in frustration. She didn’t need fairy tales, didn’t need talk of destiny and fate. Vardun had condemned all of them to being little more than slaves, and all for a fantasy.
It was not the answer she was looking for, but she also didn’t know what she had been hoping to find. She doubted that any reason would’ve made her feel better. She was frustrated—angry at Vardun, and angry at everyone else. She felt as if she were suffocating, and yet a part of her pushed her to do her duty regardless. The duty of the Eternal Soul, to honor the word of a man that had done this to her. It didn’t feel fair.
But she knew that she had very little choice in the matter. Nothing that any of her lives had ever done had been sufficient to end the cycle or to free them, and nothing she was capable of would fix things either. None of her lives had even figured out what kind of a spell Vardun had cast on their soul. They couldn’t see it, and they couldn’t feel it, and so they couldn’t change anything. For all of her power, Kyarra was as powerless as all of her past lives had been.
The only thing she had left was to find a way to live inside the cage.
CHAPTER TEN
MING LI
Xiang Hao Ming Li leaned on the stone balcony railing of the massive stone house she had been staying in for the past few days. The city spreading before her was large, snaking its way around the coast of a great sea and hugging a mountainside. It was unlike anything that had been present on her own world.
Yet despite the world’s natural glories, the way these people built had no finesse, no art. It was all cold and dull. She hated it. And she was stuck here. But she had made her choice, and already it had paid off for her. She had more power now than ever before. She had been a spirit artist of the fifth step, powerful, respected. Yet her own power had paled in comparison to that of the great Sage Kai Zhao Vin, she thought bitterly. Ming Li had known, as everyone else had known, that she would never reach his heights, would never be remembered the same way that he would.