Knight Exiled: The Shackled Verities (Book Three)

by Tammy Salyer

  The world filled with the sound of thunder, and the ground trembled beneath her as a white disc of light spread from the Cosmoculous, expanding so magnificently that she was forced to squeeze her eyes closed or risk blindness. The immensity of noise and light seemed to shatter the earth, the sky, reality itself, and a great shockwave struck her, knocking her from the urzidae. Through squinted eyes, she saw the beast’s claws dig into the ground, keeping it upright, but it leaned heavily in her direction. She feared it would topple on her if the wave didn’t relent.

  But it did. Moments later, the last of the thunderous noise echoed down the valley. And all grew still.

  Drawing a choked breath, Isemay scrambled to her feet and peered at the tower, expecting to see the massive stone monolith crumbled to pieces on the earth, her mum and the remaining Zhallah children with it.

  With a relief so profound she nearly fell back to her knees, she saw that it still stood. The moons above were already parting, slivers of blue and red appearing on either side of the White Watcher. Though lit with stars, the sky had grown dark. Yet the three moons shone brightly enough that details began to emerge before Isemay’s wide, shocked eyes.

  The upper part of the tower where the Cosmoculous crystal had been housed above the Verity chamber was crumbling, giant pieces of stone blocks falling and smashing to the ground both outside and—oh Vaka Aster’s eyes, no!—inward.

  Her da spoke to her through the memory keeper. “Hurry, Isemay, up on the beast. We’ve got to get to your mum.”

  She barely had a grip on the reins before the urzidae launched down the side of the ravine. As it began winding down toward the tower, she cried, “Da! The Deathless Guard are surrounding it. What—”

  She cut herself off when she heard a familiar chant from her father, the incantation Safran used to sightlink with Urgo and Yggo.

  Then she saw the flash of light on their silvery wings in the distance, just past the tower itself. Urgo flapped oddly, as if he was wounded. As they soared toward the urzidae, the beast suddenly gave a great shake of its head, nearly tossing her off, then skidded to a dead stop.

  “Isemay, grab the Mentalios from the urzidae’s horn and prepare to be lifted by Yggo.”

  “All right,” she breathed, clueless as to what might be happening but willingly following her da’s instructions.

  As she draped the second pendant around her neck with her memory keeper, Yggo swept down, her wings catching the lights from the moons and making her shimmer like a jewel. It was unimaginably beautiful, but Isemay only had a moment to enjoy it before the great bird had the back of her shirt gripped in her talons.

  On a day of many firsts for Isemay, being carried by the bruhawk was the one she knew she would never, ever forget. The strength of the bird was impossible, and she seemed to weigh nothing to Yggo. For a moment, she fleetingly marveled at the idea that if this was what flying with a bruhawk felt like, she could only imagine how magnificent flying with a dragør would be.

  The hawk carried her aloft swiftly, and as they neared the tower she looked down along the clearing surrounding it where the many Deathless Guards stood rigid, like statues. Even as stones large enough to flatten them dropped from the tower’s heights around them, they didn’t move. Why weren’t they getting to safety?

  “Tuzhazu controls them with his Fenestros,” she whispered aloud, answering her own question. “If he’s not forcing them to move, that must mean…”

  Had her mum succeeded? Was Tuzhazu finally dead?

  Yggo and Urgo reached the collapsing tower’s peak. She could look straight down the center of the octagonal column, though it was too dark to see inside the Verity chamber at the bottom. The Cosmoculous had filled the tower’s bore before—but it was gone. Whatever had happened, whatever had caused the wave of light and thunder and power that had shaken the earth for a moment, that wystic force seemed to have destroyed the massive Churss crystal. And her mum had been directly beneath it.

  The birds hovered over the hollow tower for a moment, deciding on what to do. It gave Isemay enough time to see that the cascade of stones from the tower’s walls had slowed. Pebbles and fist-sized chunks still rolled down, but the remainder of the blocks seemed to be staying in place for the moment.

  The bruhawks began to descend. From Isemay’s chest, her da’s Mentalios lens glowed, lighting the walls. Immediately, she could tell the flecks of crystal in them no longer pulsed with that erratic light from before. Near the bottom, however, the entire floor glinted and gleamed, as if a glacier of pure blue ice had somehow found its way inside the Verity chamber.

  It was the crystal, smashed into bits and pieces, some of them as large as a table. Their weight alone would have crushed anyone beneath them, let alone the chaotic jumble of their sharp edges. No one who’d been in the chamber could have survived the shower of shattered crystal.

  As Yggo’s descent slowed, she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see.

  From the memory keeper, he da said, “Symvalline was in here, Crumb?”

  She nodded, eyes still closed. “And the Zhallah children.”

  “We’ll find her.” His voice carried what his words did not, the same fear, nearly dread, Isemay felt.

  Her feet brushed a surface. Yggo’s talons released her, as she opened her eyes. She staggered for a moment, then found her legs. The hawk had placed her atop a wide piece of the broken crystal. Around her, the birds were gripping other chunks and flinging them toward the chamber’s outer walls. The Cosmoculous rubble resembled pieces of broken obsidian, with smooth surfaces, some concave, some convex, some edges razor sharp, some jagged. The birds’ talons were nearly as solid as rock themselves and could grip the sharp pieces without harm. On the whole, walking through it would be no different than walking across a scree field atop a mountain. Doable as long as your boots had sturdy soles. Realizing this, she wasn’t going to just stand there and watch, and carefully she picked her way toward the center of the chamber.

  “Here, there was a table at this spot where the vessel lay.”

  What had become of the vessel, she suddenly wondered. Had the Equifulcrum released Mithlí? It would explain why the walls no longer flashed with intermittent light. And if so, where was Mithlí now?

  Yggo and Urgo focused on the space she indicated and quickly unearthed the tabletop. The vessel was not on it.

  There was, however, a swath of red across one side, easily identifiable as blood.

  Her da had gone quiet, and she could feel the hot streaks of silent tears falling down her cheeks as she stood on a mound of crystal beside the stone table, staring at the bloody stain.

  That’s when she heard it. A quiet, almost imperceptible sound. Like a butterfly’s breath, barely there.

  But…still there.

  “Yggo, Urgo, come here,” she said. “Can you—can you clear one side of the table so I can see under it?”

  The bruhawks used their talons to rake the bigger chunks of crystal aside until a trench formed. Isemay leaned over the side of the table—and saw her mum.

  Symvalline was curled into a ball under it. Her eyes were closed, and Isemay couldn’t see her chest rising and falling. But she’d heard it, she knew she’d heard it.

  “Mum! Mum, are you all right?” she cried.

  “Symvalline!” her da yelled from the dragørfly pendant that dangled from her neck.

  Cautiously but moving as swiftly as a groundhog into its burrow, Isemay squirmed beneath the table. Her mum’s flesh when she touched her cheek was warm! Leaning over her body, Isemay grabbed both of her shoulders and pulled her up so they were nose to nose. “Mum!”

  Symvalline’s hands, which had been tucked into her belly, came free. Four matching Fenestrii rolled from her grip to the floor. Isemay eyed them only a moment, then searched her mum’s body from head to foot for signs of a wound. “Da, can you do anything?”

  As she spoke, Symvalline drew a sudden breath and raised her head. Her eyes opened, looking directly into Isem
ay’s. “Crumb, my Crumb,” she whispered. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.”

  Isemay felt it coming, tried it hold it back, tried to be a strong and stoic Knight like her father and her mother, but it was useless. With a shuddering sob, she threw herself into her mum’s embrace. Nothing in the entire world ever felt as good as Symvalline’s arms wrapping around her, hugging her with a strength that squished her lungs. But it didn’t matter. Her mum was alive and her da was here.

  When they finally let go of each other, her da said, “Symvalline, what happened? Has Mithlí been freed?”

  Ulfric’s face in the memory keeper caught her mum’s eyes. “Ulfric, where are you? Can you come to the tower?”

  Was there some hesitation in her da’s reply? “I’ll get to that in a moment. But…Mithlí?”

  Isemay swiped away her tears in time to see a flash of guarded irritation cross her mum’s face, the look she only ever gave Ulfric when she disagreed with him but would not bring up why until they were alone.

  Symvalline spoke hesitantly. “Yes. I believe so, yes. Tuzhazu and I were struggling…I’d just gotten Balavad’s Fenestros away from him. Then the chamber, it burst. I’ve never felt power like that. There was nothing but light. I don’t know how long it lasted, and I don’t know if I pulled myself beneath the table or was thrown there by the surge. All I can really say is that I saw both the vessel and Tuzhazu…disintegrate. Then I lost consciousness.”

  She closed her eyes as if thinking deeply. “The sight of them, like ash blown apart in a strong wind, is still burned in my mind.”

  When she stopped speaking, Isemay and her da were quiet. She didn’t know what Ulfric was thinking, but Isemay was thinking that she wasn’t just glad Tuzhazu was dead, she was joyous. A person that cruel, that wicked, should never have been ordained by a Verity. Toss the traitors with the trash, as Stave would say.

  Her thoughts were cut short at that sound of the two bruhawks perching atop the table. Their talons dangled over the edge, and a moment later, something dropped to the floor next to Isemay with a thump.

  It was a hand—just a hand, no body attached—at the end of a bloody, neatly severed wrist. And it was clutched tightly around a black Fenestros.

  “I…I guess not all of Tuzhazu is gone,” Isemay heard herself mumble as she fought her rising gorge.

  “Ulfric,” her mum said quietly, “many wrongs may be coming to right in Arc Rheunos. But you still haven’t told me where you are.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Yggo and Isemay soared slowly over the battlefield. Below, the field was no longer empty of all save the dying and wounded. The Zhallahs had left the safety of the Churss and were now spread among their fallen on the field, healing those they could, weeping over those they couldn’t.

  Salukis was still down there somewhere, and she was going to find him. After the story her father had just shared with her and her mum…she felt her mind beginning to shut down, resisting any more shocking news that she simply could not comprehend. Vinnr under siege or soon to be by the Dyrraks, who were being enslaved into the same kind of malevolent, inhuman army for the Verity Balavad…The rest of the Knights missing…And, most unbelievable of all, her father was now Vaka Aster’s vessel, yet he himself was no longer tethered to his own body…

  No, she couldn’t possibly listen anymore. And as her parents quietly and fervently discussed what they were going to do, Isemay had asked to leave, to take Yggo and report what was occurring outside the tower. To her surprise, they’d barely hesitated before agreeing. And just like that, she realized, she’d stopped being a child in their eyes. They trusted her, saw her as grown. The realization was an unexpected hammer blow. She thought she’d appreciate it when this day finally came. But what she really felt was the weight of knowing she no longer had her youth to rely on as an excuse for bad and irresponsible decisions. She could no longer justify making bad and irresponsible decisions.

  As she and Yggo exited the tower, the first thing she’d observed was that the Deathless Guards had not moved from their vigil around the base, so she had the bruhawk fly to the battlefield, feeling relatively assured they didn’t need to fear further attacks. After all, Tuzhazu most assuredly did not control them any longer with his foreign Fenestros. Pried out of his dead hand, it was now in her mum’s possession with the others.

  She spotted the area where Salukis had fallen and had Yggo take her down. A group of Zhallahs was gathered about a form on the ground, and she recognized Salukis’s father Browan. The three others were Mura, her mum Lysis, and Kalisk, the old council member. The women were kneeling over Salukis, blocking him from Isemay’s sight.

  The moment her feet hit the earth, she ran to them. “Mura?” she asked hesitantly, not yet ready to look, not ready to see whether Salukis had lived. She didn’t know if she was prepared for the chance, the likelihood, that he had not.

  When Mura looked up, the expression on her face made Isemay’s heart grow cold. Tears stood in Mura’s eyes.

  “Is he…” Isemay began but could not finish the question.

  As Mura stood, another Zhallah approached and came to her side. It was Dwoon, and Mura took his hand. She pulled him closer to Isemay. “Isemay, thank you. Thank you for bringing him back to us.”

  Isemay couldn’t force words from her tight throat. She could only nod, happy to see that at least Mura’s family was once again whole, as her own was.

  Dwoon stepped forward and put his hand on her arm. “Your mum?”

  Miserably, she nodded and tried to smile. “She’s all right. She stopped Tuzhazu, for good. And the vessel is…well, it’s gone. Mithlí has been freed.”

  Mura and Dwoon exchanged a glance, and all those gathered around Salukis looked up at her statement too. The two older women quickly went back to what they were doing. Finally, Isemay dared to look.

  His face was still, his eyes closed, but there was some color to his cheeks. Alive! She rushed over and fell to her knees beside him. The women were tendering him, trying to save him.

  Mura came back and laid her palm on his torso, next to the other women’s, beside the great gash from Tuzhazu’s wing.

  Isemay grasped Salukis’s limp hand. “Will he make it?”

  Kalisk looked into her eyes. “We are barely keeping him from moving into the shadows. I fear he’s too far to bring back.”

  Through a veil of tears, Isemay could see that the grass and small plants growing around Salukis were withered and brown, their life having already yielded to the draw of the tenders and passed into him. She gripped his hand harder in both of hers, feeling helpless and useless. What good was she here? Salukis had given his life for his people, and she could do nothing but watch as it ended. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to hide her pain in the dark.

  A hard but gentle hand on her shoulder made her look up. It was Browan, Salukis’s father. “Your bravery and determination gave the people of Arc Rheunos their freedom, Isemay of Vinnr. You should be proud. You inspired us all, even Archon Raamuzi, to finally face the evils of the Menace. We’ve lost some, but we would have lost all if not for you. I know Salukis would tell you the same if he could.”

  Her tears came hard then, and there was nothing she could do to hold them back. She curled down and hid her face in Salukis’s shoulder, weeping for both him and herself and for the sacrifices so many had to make.

  She didn’t notice the stillness settle around her or the way Mura and the other women removed their hands from Salukis’s chest. But she did notice when a hand began stroking her hair, and she noticed when Salukis took a gasping breath.

  She sat up quickly, disbelieving her own senses. Salukis’s eyes blinked open, their warm brown tone shining, full of life.

  “Lukis…” she breathed.

  He started to smile at her, but something beside her caught his eyes. They widened. Isemay looked over and saw…

  Deespora, bent down, had laid a finger on the edge of Salukis’s outstretched wing. But
it wasn’t Deespora, not anymore.

  As Isemay gawked at the woman, whose skin glittered with an aura of mellow light as if Halla shone through her, Mithlí stared back at her, her face unreadable. “Creation of my quin Vaka Aster,” the Verity said.

  Swallowing against the sudden tightness in her throat, Isemay whispered, “Mithlí,” then immediately bowed her head, seeing everyone around her had as well.

  The Verity said nothing else, and a moment later Isemay sensed her presence moving off. She saved Salukis, she thought. But Da has always told me the Verities don’t interfere in their creations’ destinies.

  She didn’t care. Salukis was alive. Gratefully, she looked into his eyes. He gave her that grin, teasing yet playful, and utterly irresistible. “Isemay,” he said, and his brow wrinkled. “I think your father…”

  “He what?”

  “I think he saw us kissing. And I don’t think he liked it.”

  It was the last thing she’d expected him to say, and somehow it struck her as the funniest thing she’d ever heard. With a laugh she couldn’t hold back, and didn’t want to, she squeezed him in a hug so tight she heard him gasp. “Oh, Lukis, I can’t believe you’re all right.”

  He hugged her back and soon their lips met again. This time, there was no hesitancy or awkwardness. This time it felt as natural and wonderful as breathing.

  “Ahem,” Browan interrupted. “If you’re feeling so good, son, there are others who could use some help.”

  His da reached a hand down and Salukis took it. Before he could get up on his own, Browan pulled him to his feet and wrapped him in another embrace. Isemay looked around. All over the field, the Zhallahs were together, most smiling and supporting each other. Deespora, or rather Mithlí moved among the fallen, healing all as she encountered them. All except those who had already passed in the shadow, but even those, Minothian and Zhallah alike, even the urzidae, she stood over for a moment, as if to bear witness to her creations and what had happened to them.