“Tensions between the states have never been this high in living memory, and I’ve long outstayed my welcome here. It’s time I went home, but I am loath to do so without bringing Thorion so that I, too, might be showered with attention and praise and expensive presents.”
“We will help you,” she vowed. “But we need a little time. We just saved Allentria.”
“Yet somehow, Allentria is still preparing for war.” He shouldered past her and limped away. “Save us from that, and you can have all the time you like.”
The conversation had spoiled her appetite, but she continued to the dining hall to get Thorion some food. The hospital staff presented him with a heaping portion of meat, which he dove into happily. While he ate, she inquired after her sword.
“I’m leaving in two days. I need it.”
“You’ll also be staying in the infirmary for two days, I imagine,” the head steward said patiently. “No weapons within these walls. You’ll get it when you leave.”
After Thorion had eaten his fill, he and Keriya headed to their quarters. She walked in silence, stewing in her thoughts.
“What was Effrax talking about?” she mused. “No Necrovar, no war.”
“Necrovar made the Fironem his home ten ages ago, so the reputation of all Fironians has been compromised with his return,” said Thorion. “That leads to increased tension between the states, as Effrax said. I doubt it will escalate as far as civil war, but he has every right to worry.”
By the time they entered their room, Roxanne was awake. She lay on her cot, fiddling with a needlepoint kit Keriya had received.
“Where’ve you been?” she asked.
“I went to see Effrax.” And Keriya recounted everything he’d said.
“He’s making a big deal out of nothing,” said Roxanne. “He admitted he only wants to bring Thorion to the Fironem for fame and glory, so don’t feel bad about making him wait.”
“It wouldn’t be kind to make him wait too long,” said Thorion.
“Then don’t make him wait too long. It’s simple, but men insist on complicating everything. Speaking of men,” Roxanne added, examining her nails with an effortless grace and nonchalance that Keriya envied, “Max is stopping by later.”
“Oh?” Keriya did her best to emulate the other girl’s carefree tone. Max had been staying in Indrath Olven, the fortress where dwelt the political leaders of the city. Though his father had ordered him to return to the Erastate, Max had remained in Irongarde to deal with his own business. He was so wrapped up in whatever he was doing that he’d only been able to visit the infirmary once.
“I spoke to him yesterday while you were out,” said Roxanne, “and I told him you’d have dinner with him tonight.”
“What?” gasped Keriya. “I don’t have anything to say, or to wear, my hair’s a mess—”
“Your hair’s always a mess.”
“—and to top it off, I don’t know what to do. I haven’t had time to plan!”
“You’re no good at planning,” said Roxanne. “Just have fun. Tell him how you feel.”
“I don’t feel anything,” Keriya said mulishly.
A wicked gleam came into Roxanne’s eye. “I think you should kiss him. It’s now or never. You’re going to Noryk, he’s going to the Erastate, you won’t see him for Shivnath-knows-how-long . . . you might do more than kiss. I’d be happy to let you two have the ward for the evening.” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down, clearly enjoying herself.
Keriya felt her cheeks reddening. “Not likely.”
Roxanne shrugged. “Your loss.”
Keriya spent the rest of the day trying not to fret about her meeting with Max. When the sun sank behind the far-off jungle peaks, there came a knock on the bamboo door.
“Come in,” Roxanne sang. The door slid open and Max’s lean, handsome face appeared. Keriya’s stomach swooped and her heart leapt, as they always did when she saw him.
“Shall we?” he said, gesturing for her to join him.
“Um . . . sure.”
“You’ll thank me,” Roxanne said in a carrying whisper as Keriya left the room.
“I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye,” Max explained as they walked down the hall. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I had to take care of a few things.” His sky-blue eyes grew distant.
“You okay?” she asked. He cleared his throat and nodded, flashing a winsome smile.
They exited the hospital, passing the guards on watch at its doors. Keriya recognized Inido Rainsword, the captain of King Wavewalker’s palace soldiers.
Rainsword had come to collect Sebaris. The king had wanted his daughter brought home, but the healers had forbidden it, given her fragile condition. The captain and his men had been stationed in the inner city garrison for the past month, waiting for the princess to awaken. Rainsword cast Keriya a baleful glare as she passed, but he didn’t dare send any of his men to tail her with Max at her side.
Keriya and Max walked toward the center of town, finding their way by the light of the red lanterns that lined the sinuous paths. Fluffy flakes of snow began to fall, and they pulled up the hoods of their cloaks. She noted Max had taken pains to look nice this evening—though for him, that wasn’t hard. His golden hair was casually swept back and his clothes were neat and pressed. His signature diamond amulet glinted in the lantern light. It made her wish she’d kept some of the finer clothes she’d been gifted. Why bother hanging onto her brown frock? It wasn’t like it was the height of Allentrian fashion.
They ended up at a nearby inn, which was packed with celebrating locals. Keriya was hailed with a drunken cheer when she entered. The innkeeper greeted them, providing them with a choice table in a private area.
She and Max removed their snow-dusted cloaks. They sat in easy silence for a few moments, listening to a minstrel performing at the other end of the room. He was singing about the Great War, when the Allentrians had first fought Necrovar:
“I’ll sing a tale of Ages past,
When land and sky were young.
I’ll sing a tale of frontiers vast,
Of heroes brave and unsurpassed;
I’ll sing a tale, or spin it fast,
For many an age to be sung.
I’ll sing a tale of armies great,
Who fought the Shadow’s hand.
I’ll sing a tale of war and hate,
Of hellish ends the damnéd faced.
Men fought and died, as was their fate,
And their lifeblood watered the land.”
“This is an interesting song,” said Keriya, frowning at the lyrics.
“In times of war, people like to hear about past triumphs,” said Max.
“Those hardly sound like triumphs,” she muttered as the minstrel moved on to a verse about genocide. “Why does everyone keep talking about war? Necrovar is dead.”
“The Shadow Lord isn’t the only one capable of starting a war,” said Max, lowering his voice and leaning closer to her. Keriya was sure no one would hear them over the din of the tavern, but she also leaned toward Max. For a fleeting instant she wished her hair were neater, prettier, more like Roxanne’s. “King Wavewalker is now training his soldiers to do battle specifically with air wielders.”
“Why?”
“At the last meeting of the Council of Nine, he and my father, King Windscoure, argued over Thorion. My father wanted you to come to the Erastate, and Wavewalker refused point-blank to let you leave.”
“Oh,” said Keriya.
“Since you’ve stayed in Irongarde so long, my father believes you’re supporting the Galantasa.”
“Why should that matter?” she asked. “Aren’t they part of the same empire?”
“An empire that finds itself divided. Not even the greatest empires in history could withstand civil unrest,” Max sigh
ed. “And Allentria is far from a great empire. Necrovar’s return has exacerbated problems that have been growing for centuries. The states have grown jealous and fearful of one another. My father is afraid the Galantasa will use you and Thorion against him.”
“How could he possibly think that?”
“Ordinarily I’d say it’s just him being his usual self, but I’m afraid there’s something more to it this time. He’s determined to fan the flames that have arisen between the Erastate and the Galantasa, and you . . . well, I’ve said it before. You were the spark that lit the fire.”
Keriya stared at the table, feeling ill. She hadn’t realized staying in Irongarde would have such serious repercussions.
Max patted her hand. “Don’t worry. Once you’re in Noryk, the states won’t be able to argue over you anymore. When are you leaving?”
“The day after tomorrow,” she said quietly.
“Any word on when you’ll get your sword?”
“No. I’m starting to think they threw it away and aren’t telling me.”
He loosed a dark chuckle. “Let’s hope not.”
“I thought you didn’t like that sword.” Her friends were wary of the ancient weapon because it had been a gift from the bogspectre.
“I don’t. But it makes you happy, and I like seeing you happy.”
Her cheeks grew hot. She hadn’t considered how much she would miss Max when they parted ways.
Their meals came soon after. They spoke of simple things while they ate, but Keriya’s mind was elsewhere. She worried about returning to Noryk, and about how long it might be before she saw Max again. In the background, the minstrel was still singing:
“I’ll sing a tale of the dragon child
With the greatest gift to give.
Necrovar was far beguiled,
He sought a magic, fey and wild:
Valerion’s soul, by dark defiled—
He died that we might live.”
It was foolish of her to have grown comfortable. Max and Effrax were right. Just because she’d solved one problem—albeit a big one—that didn’t mean the world was saved. Nor did it mean she and Thorion were safe from the world. Now that she knew the states were fighting amongst themselves, her required residency in Noryk took on a more sinister tone.
She tried her best to enjoy the evening, but the low simmer of anxiety in her gut forbade it. Even when Max walked her to the infirmary and promised he would see her before she left, she only managed to be marginally excited.
Thorion and Roxanne were asleep by the time Keriya reached her room, and she got ready for bed quietly so as not to wake them. Burrowing beneath the covers of her bed, she lay and stared at the tiled ceiling for a long time. She wanted to sleep, to escape her worries.
But if she’d thought sleeping would help, she had been sorely mistaken.
CHAPTER FOUR
“To know your heart, look at your dreams. To know your soul, listen to your nightmares.”
~ Sylen Alenciae, Sixth Age
Keriya stood in a cave coated with lush moss and creeping vines. A forest of stalactites and stalagmites lay before her, illuminated by dimly glowing toadstools. She knew where she was, though she didn’t know how she’d gotten there.
This was Shivnath’s home.
Shivnath herself crouched in the middle of the cavern. Curved horns framed the dragon god’s noble face. Her dark emerald scales, each edged with a thin line of gold, glimmered through the shadows. Though neither moon had yet risen, the overcast night sky paled in comparison to her eyes, which were blacker than pitch and slashed with purple slitted pupils.
This has to be a dream, Keriya thought. The last time she’d spoken to Shivnath, the two of them had parted on poor terms. Shivnath had asked Keriya for the bogspectre’s sword, and Keriya had refused to give it to her.
The bogspectre was there, too. It hovered in a corner, its gloppy body rippling with tension. Its one remaining eye shone with malice as it glowered at the third guest: Necrovar.
This told Keriya that she was definitely dreaming, because Necrovar was dead.
He was a translucent blotch of darkness hanging stagnant in the air. There was no face, no eyes, no mouth, but Keriya could tell he was looking at her.
“Isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” he said. “Keriya Soulstar. To what do we owe the honor?”
Keriya wasn’t afraid. This was a projection of her subconscious, a response to her earlier conversation with Max.
“You’re dead,” she informed him.
“Do you think I could have been defeated by a silly girlchild and her pet lizard? You couldn’t hurt me even if you had ten thousand armies at your back.”
Just a dream, Keriya told herself. Dream-Necrovar was voicing her innermost fears, the ones she would never admit aloud.
“I could,” rasped the bogspectre, lashing its tail. “I could destroy you.”
Necrovar looked at it in as condescending a manner as a shadow could manage. “You are soulless and useless. A leftover from ages past. Beneath my notice.”
“Do not mock me! I am the bogspectre, bane of the Galantasa. I will force your soul out and inhabit your body, I shall rot you from the inside and feast on your—”
It was interrupted by Necrovar’s haunting laughter.
“Pathetic. You don’t remember anything, do you? I don’t need you anymore.” The Shadow swirled about and looked at Keriya. “You, on the other hand . . . you are an anomaly.”
“I killed you,” Keriya maintained. That made him laugh again. At least one of them was having a good time.
“Shivnath,” he said, “you’ve been so tight-lipped—you must tell me where you found her. I want all the details.”
Keriya glanced at the looming dragon. Shivnath, who had been staring at the bogspectre, turned her attention to Necrovar. “She came from Aeria.”
“A new nation,” he surmised.
It was Shivnath’s turn to chuckle. “Much has happened since your imprisonment. You’ve been gone a long time, Helkryvt.”
“Don’t call me that,” he snapped, his amiable demeanor evaporating.
Shivnath rolled her wing joints, unintimidated. “I answered one of your questions, now I want you to answer one of mine. Why are you delaying when the key to your return is right in front of you?”
“Perhaps you missed it, but Keriya and I had quite an altercation,” he replied in a dangerously polite tone. “I’ve been trying to regenerate my strength before I take my next step.”
Shivnath examined him, her face a mask. “You’re weak,” she murmured, sounding shocked.
“I am not WEAK!”
Keriya dove for cover behind a stalagmite as the Shadow lashed out, sending black sparks flying across the cave. Just a dream, she repeated over and over. He can’t hurt me anymore.
“You don’t know what the Etherworld is like, Dragon. It drained me of everything I was! The fact that I survived proves I am stronger than anyone ever gave me credit for.”
Shivnath’s snout crinkled in a silent snarl. “I may not have shared your imprisonment, but do not presume that I have never been a prisoner. You have the power of a god, but none of the burden. You don’t know what I’ve suffered.”
“Whose fault is that?” Keriya found that an odd response, but she had no time to dwell on it. Necrovar continued to hurl abuse at the dragon: “When I win this war, I’ll be a better god than you and your brethren ever were. Cowering, sniveling, wretched creatures, the lot of you. How many ages did you sit by and watch the world decay?”
“The binding laws exist for a reason,” Shivnath replied haughtily.
“Yes, yes—mortals must make their own decisions. But what if those decisions are bad?” he countered. “Your job would be so easy if you stopped them from their destructive ways. If you prevent them from misusing the
ir powers, the magics will equilibrate naturally. Not only will you have peace, you will also have balance.”
“Lofty ideals as always, Helkryvt.”
“If you won’t see reason, I will show you.” His voice was suddenly gentle. “If you can’t do it, I will do it for you. Once my soul is balanced, I’ll be able to leave the Etherworld.”
“Good luck with that,” the bogspectre muttered from where it brooded.
“I need no luck,” Necrovar spat. “Already my followers are laying the groundwork for my return. I will restore Indrath Necros and reclaim my rightful title as the Shadow Lord.”
Keriya’s heart took a series of erratic, acrobatic leaps. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s only a dream!
Finally her subconscious got the hint. The cave dissolved. She was alone, sinking in a dark sea of calm, and there was no one around to say horrible things.
Keriya cringed. The mindvoice pulsed through her brain, blazing a trail of fire across the interior of her skull.
She opened her eyes. She was back in Shivnath’s cave, though neither the bogspectre nor Necrovar were present this time. For that, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“We meet again,” said Shivnath, lowering her head to be on a level with Keriya’s.
“Yeah,” said Keriya. “How . . . how are you?” She cringed at her awkwardness and fidgeted under the dragon’s gaze.
“What were you dreaming of?”
That wasn’t the question Keriya had expected, and it threw her off-guard. “I don’t remember.”
“Is that so?” Shivnath’s tone implied that she knew Keriya was lying. Keriya wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not; she didn’t know what to make of all she’d seen.
“Why does it matter?” she said. “It was just a dream.”
“On the contrary, dreams reveal the most meaningful parts of our souls. A dream is the only place where you cannot hide from yourself.”
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