Exiles & Empire

by Cheryl S Mackey

  Gabaran shook his head and the memories faded. Such vivid memories of a woman he would search the world for, year after year. So tirelessly. His heart had truly broken when Emaranthe had vanished, determined to find her way in a world that did not know her.

  But he knew her… she needed him. Her past was linked with his.

  ***

  Gabaran jerked upright. The pitch black of The Void was now replaced by Emaranthe's pale face and wide, sad, eyes. The book fell from his hands and hit the smooth floor with a dull thud. He wordlessly studied the terrace around them, his throat working to swallow. How had she known?

  “Did you find what you wanted, big brother?” she asked. She sat down in front of him, her face carefully devoid of emotion. He shifted from his kneeling position, to sit with her. The silence continued until he worked the knot from his throat.

  “I don't know, little sister.” He studied his hands, the tired and calloused fingers, the lines of age. He suddenly felt every one of his nearly thirteen thousand years. “Where are the others?”

  “Elsewhere.”

  “Oh.” Guilt chewed at him. He did not deserve her non-judgmental regard. “I'm sorry. I don't know what made–”

  Emaranthe's head tilted to one side and her eyes narrowed.

  “You know,” she said. “You know as I knew. We are yet more pieces in a puzzle that we cannot see the whole of. We don't know where we fit yet, but the book does. It showed you something you needed to see, didn’t it?”

  Gabaran nodded. He studied the young Earthlander he had loved and raised as a sister for a decade. He knew her better than he knew himself. Like himself, and Jaeger, her eyes told a story. They just had to find it.

  “Why did you leave us?” he asked. “All those decades ago you left with no word. Sesti cried for days.”

  She stiffened. Her gaze grew lost and the barest sliver of fire swam along the rims of her brown eyes.

  “I am not Tevu, Gabaran,” she whispered. “I am nobody. I have no people, no name, no past.”

  “Did you find anything?”

  “I found Ivo. Jaeger. Jadeth. And Dehil. They have become my family, too.”

  “Then you have found what you have always wanted, little sister. Love.”

  Emaranthe swallowed and nodded.

  “Come, Gabaran, we should head back,” Emaranthe's soft voice jerked Gabaran out of his thoughts. He nodded and stood to follow her back to the library, the satchel over his shoulder with the book nestled inside. He dreaded the looks he would get from those within, especially his niece, but it couldn’t be helped.

  The sharp snap of his sister’s and niece’s voices rode the still air in the corridor. He glanced down at Emaranthe, but her face remained passive, her gaze calm in the glow of the tiny flame flickering in her uplifted palm.

  As expected, they latched onto him as soon as he entered the library. Only Ivo, Jadeth, and Jaeger remained in the background, their gazes glinting with amusement. Emaranthe splashed through the water to join them, leaving him to the mercy of two relatives with tongues sharper than knives.

  “Where is it, uncle?” Sesti dove for the satchel as soon as he was within reach. He let her have it. He didn’t care to fight her, or Ishelene, right now.

  Believe it or not, he had more worrisome things on his mind.

  “What did you do, brother?” Ishelene frowned as Sesti withdrew, bag in hand, and a scowl darker than thunder. “What did you hope to see?”

  “Her. I wanted, needed, to see her. Just one more time.”

  His pained whisper was so heartbreaking that even Sesti’s barely contained glare faltered. Ishelene traded glances with her before turning to study her brother in the dim firelight.

  “You love her still,” she said. “I see that, brother, but the book cannot give you what you want.”

  Still.

  “She said to remember us,” he added. “It felt so real.”

  “I know.” Ishelene bowed her head. “But it was not real. The book cannot show us real, only possibilities, memories.”

  “What I saw was a memory then?”

  “I don’t know, Gabaran. The fact that the book let you in at all is a wonder. I don’t understand it.”

  “What happened to me, Ishelene? You know something, I can tell.”

  “I don’t know what–”

  “No, not me, the me I am now,” Gabaran growled. “Who was I all those years ago? How am I this?” he gestured to his starlit pupils.

  “That is not for me to say, brother,” Ishelene whispered. “I’m sorry, I cannot say more. Your past is your path to find and take. As was mine. As is theirs.” She gestured to Jaeger, Ivo, and Jadeth who watched them with ill concealed curiosity. Only Emaranthe’s face remained passive, her gaze thoughtful.

  “What is done is done now, we are out of time.” Jadeth sighed. “The dawn will break soon, we must find that clearing, and those stones, before Rodon finds us.”

  “Agreed.” Sesti joined the others at the base of the statue and sank down onto a stone foot. “I have an idea about where to begin the search.”

  Ishelene and Gabaran traded dark looks and joined her. Sesti waited until everyone had gathered close to explain.

  “There are three scouting paths that head up into the mountains. One I know ends in a sheer cliff beside a frozen waterfall. No clearing or stones, so I say we rule it out.”

  Everyone nodded and waited for her to continue. She straightened her shoulders when no one disagreed, pleased.

  “The other two paths begin behind the keep and one rings the far eastern edge, while the other rings the western edge. I’ve never followed either very far. They climb high, fast, and the cloud cover grows treacherous quickly.”

  “We need to split up, check out both paths,” Ivo grunted. His fingers tightened around Emaranthe’s for a moment in a gentle squeeze. “I will lead Gabaran and Emaranthe on the eastern path. Sesti, you lead Jadeth, Ishelene, and Jaeger to the west.”

  ***

  The shadows clinging to the corners of the throne room deepened, darkened. Rodon sank back into his seat with a grimace as the Necromancer stalked from the deepest reaches of The Void and across the expansive hall.

  Heeled boots tapped on the ancient stone floor and kicked aside the cracked splinters of the shattered thrones littering her path.

  Her eyes, redder than the stones of the portal, remained locked on his. Her sneer crept up into a feline smirk.

  “It is now or never, Dro-Aconi,” she said. She halted at the center of the room, leaving a gaping distance between them.

  The fact that he sat atop a throne on a dais did nothing to intimidate her, he realized.

  “You will deliver me to Anat in the north, yes?” he confirmed. His fingers gripped the arms of his seat until the frame creaked in warning. A sneer twisted his lips to match hers.

  “If you keep you promise, My Lord, I will keep mine. Come, waiting will only hinder our path and alert your enemy to our approach,” Alarandia snapped. She spun in place and swiped a hand at the tall shadow stretching across the floor behind her.

  The shadow writhed and slithered, raising chilling goose bumps along Rodon’s skin. He stood, his clawed fingers prying loose from the hapless seat, and silently moved to join her.

  His own shadow did not give chase.

  Rodon turned to study the room, the small golden braziers lining the walls. They still flickered, giving a soft glow to the stark room, but all shadows remained still and unmoving.

  All but the one stretched ominously across the floor that now resembled a door.

  “A door, so amusing,” he grunted. Leaving his shadow behind, he shoved past the Necromancer and approached the flat, intangible doorway to The Dead Road. “What must I do, Alarandia?”

  He felt the return of the chilly unease, or perhaps it simply strengthened. He waited for her answer. None came.

  “Necromancer, what is…” he snarled over his shoulder at her, but the room was now empty.


  Her voice filled the room in a sneering whisper, bodiless and ethereal.

  “Open the door, Dro-Aconi. What do you, the Emperor, have to fear, hmmm?”

  Rodon scowled and spun to face the illusory door. As he watched it swung open, revealing the pitch black of The Void. The distant shouts and marching of boots grew louder.

  “So be it. My second in command is now moving the host of our army to join me there as we speak.”

  He stepped on the slithery darkness forming the frame of the doorway. His left boot sank down a step and halted on something firm. Another step. Another.

  Slowly and surely he walked into the realm of the underworld, of The Void, and the Dead Road where all souls traveled through space and time.

  Annoyance soured his mouth. This was easy for him. Another step and another until he continued to descend further and deeper. It grew darker. Colder.

  He chuckled and felt spittle trickle from the corner of his lip. He ignored it, instead focused on his goal of reaching the Tevu Citadel and his prize.

  His chuckle grew louder. Wilder.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They parted ways at the uppermost tier of the Citadel. To the left a path climbed westward high along a spine of the mountain and vanished. The right hand path swung eastward and did a series of switchbacks up the side of a cliff before also vanishing into the cloud cover.

  Ivo’s breath fogged the air between him and Emaranthe as they joined Gabaran at the head of the eastern path. They watched the others head west, their cloaks tight about their bodies against the ever present wind.

  “Come. We will need to move fast to reach the end of the trail before nightfall, I fear,” Gabaran shifted the bow across his back and tightened the strap of the quiver with short, practiced motions.

  “Lead the way, elf.” Ivo chuckled. His borrowed armor actually fit fairly well despite the Tevu being slightly larger of frame. His sword materialized in his hand as he glanced down at Emaranthe. Gold eyes peered over a trailing end of the huge cloak tugged over her nose and mouth. “Ready?”

  Her muffled voice, made huskier by the protective warmth of the cloak, barely reached his ears. “Yes, who wants to lead?”

  Gabaran eyed the path to the east and its sinuous trail up the side of the cliff.

  “I’ll lead, you follow with lamps, then Ivo can take the rear and help steady us against the wind.”

  He set off and Emaranthe lifted a palm to the gray, grim sky. A flame burst out of the nothingness cupped in her hand, lighting their surroundings with a golden warmth. She followed, arm held high to light the way, her other hand free at her side, but with her fingers twitching as if to reach for her staff.

  Ivo followed, a frown of concentration knitting his brows as he turned the sleet laden wind aside and curled it around them along the edges of the light puddle at their feet. The dancing flame stilled and the warm light brightened as they started up the narrow, winding path.

  The endless gray of sky, rocks, and cloud made for monotony, only broken by the steep, narrow path. Every so often feet would slide and scatter pebbles to plink down the drop off to their left. Rivulets of ice cold water soaked boots and hems.

  “Have you never been up here before, elf?” Ivo asked. He watched Emaranthe flicker across a small crevice gouged across the path by a stream, and unceremoniously stepped over the gap behind her. Gabaran hadn’t even broken stride.

  “No, never,” he answered over the rush of water and wind. “I wasn’t as adventurous as my niece, obviously.”

  “Why not?” Emaranthe traded the flame to the other hand and held onto the sheer stone cliff rising above them. She kept her attention firmly on placing her feet on the slippery trail.

  “I never had time, I suppose.”

  “You were not home, often, were you?”

  He remained silent for a moment, his shoulders stiff and unyielding. “No. After you left, I spent most of my days searching for Light.”

  “Leaving Sesti alone.”

  Gabaran’s boots skidded along a muddy patch, but he kept going. “Yes.”

  Ivo frowned. No wonder the bold elf woman was little skilled in the ways of people. All she’d had were books and silence.

  “Do you think there are other hidden things here?” Ivo asked to change the subject. The clouds and fog now obscured the world below them, completely covering Anat in a rolling sea of soft white. It was serene and cold.

  “I don’t doubt it. Not even Sesti could possibly search out every secret left by the Windwalkers,” Gabaran said. He halted at the apex of a switchback. “Though I’m sure she has tried.”

  They continued to walk, quieted by the path their thoughts had turned.

  “I wonder how far this goes. Is there anything beyond these mountains?” Emaranthe asked finally. She leaned against the face of the cliff and peered up into the cloud cover. The misty fog, held at bay by Ivo’s shielding air currents, swirled around them, turning the drop-off nearly invisible. She shivered when the dampness seemed to creep into her bones. She tugged her cloak tighter about herself and tried to hide the effect the cold had on her. Fire was forever susceptible to water in all its forms.

  “I’m not sure. These paths had to have once been for scouting the terrain or for watches. I would bet there is a watchtower somewhere up here too.” Gabaran said, his breathing now a rasp. He turned and pushed on. The path climbed even higher with no end in sight.

  ***

  “So, who leads?” Jaeger started up the path ahead of the women as his brother, Emaranthe, and Gabaran waited on the eastern path. The misty fog rolled and swam against the stone cliffs that rose high above them before vanishing into the cloud bank proper.

  Ishelene eyed him with a frown. He returned it, not at all intimidated by her status–former status–as an Empress.

  “Why don’t you lead?” she asked him.

  “I don’t know this area,” he responded, puzzled. “Sesti is best for this.”

  “Your control of the ice and water–”

  “Is not an asset if I can’t keep everyone in sight,” he muttered. He glanced at Sesti, catching her pinkening cheeks. “This is hers to lead.”

  “I’ve only taken this path a little less than half way up the mountain before,” Sesti offered with a grimace. This path rode the spine of a ridge nearly straight up. The going would be treacherous at best. The western edge of these mountains would be cold and snowy, with possibly waist deep drifts. “It will be dangerous.”

  “It will be dangerous for you, daughter,” Ishelene interrupted. “You are mortal.”

  Sesti’s cheeks flushed darker.

  She snapped, “Thank you for that lovely reminder, mother.”

  “I’ll take the rear and keep watch for avalanches. If the snow becomes a hindrance.” Jaeger pointed upwards where the trail leveled off in a saddle like feature that was buried in snow. “I can push it clear of us as long as I can see it.”

  Sesti nodded and eyed Jadeth and her mother. Ishelene shrugged and joined Jadeth at the center of the hiking party.

  Jaeger frowned as he followed, his sharp blue gaze sweeping the snow banks above them. The tree line was far up, but in between there were many ledges and hanging valleys for snow to collect year-round. It would never be summer up here, he realized.

  They climbed the ridge in silence. The sound of their boots crunching on gravel and then drifts of snow could barely be heard over the hiss of the wind.

  The cold pulled on Jaeger, on the curl of ice deep within his chest that was his soul. Like before, in the Citadel, it yearned to reach out and touch it. Used to the fickle cares of the ice laden soul within his body, he ignored the pull that wanted to tug him toward the ankle deep snow drifts. The crystalline tinkle of water reached his immortal soul before it reached his ears and the yearning intensified.

  He smothered the feeling, bound it in the grief and guilt it had caused him and his family.

  It was easier to picture their faces when he fought back his
instincts. The pain of their loss, of his inability to save his wife and daughter, or even his brother, was enough to deaden the need outright.

  “Jaeger, what is it?” Jadeth’s whisper intruded and the image of Mirena’s face faded from his mind’s eye. Startled, he blinked into awareness and realized he had fallen into a quiet stupor.

  His wind burned face flushed behind the shadow of the beard that would never quite fill in.

  “Nothing. I was lost in thought. Sorry,” he mumbled.

  Sapphire eyes searched his face in the gray light. It had somehow grown darker without him noticing. He wondered how long they’d been walking.

  “Memories?” she asked after a long moment. They kept walking with her ahead, but her left ear tilted to catch his words as they scrambled up the steepening slope.

  “Of a sort,” Jaeger admitted. “My soul craves the cold, the ice, the water. I remember them to help control it.”

  “What was she like? Mirena?” Sesti asked. She halted to let them catch up. Ishelene pushed past them and kept walking.

  Jaeger opened his mouth. Closed it. He’d never actually talked about his wife to anyone, he realized. He’d talked about what had happened to her, and his daughter, Anya, but not about them.

  The words poured out from a throat scratchy with grief.

  “She was a childhood friend to both Ivo and I in Saro-Shir. I think I was a year older than her, but now I’m not sure. It felt like it was always the three of us together all those years ago.”

  He hesitated. “Until it wasn’t. We held a Sunset Ceremony on the bay. Anya was born a year later and then we were four. It wasn’t a perfect life. But it was my life, and theirs.”

  Snow flurries drifted past his field of vision. He barely noticed. “And then they were gone. Lost to the black water that sank our entire village.”

  Sesti tripped and stumbled to her knees, yanking them all out of the story. He froze, startled, to find the flurries of snow dancing in time to his turbulent thoughts, and reached to help her to her feet again. She clung to his arm for balance for a long moment. Her face pinkened and she released it.