She came-to when she heard the shouts of her enemies growing nearer. Gazing around, she saw they’d reached level ground. Before them lay massive flagstone steps leading to the cloisters. Yew trees and flowering cacti lined the monastery. Through the colonnade, Roxanne could see a few red-robed Valaani monks. The men were gaping at the wreckage surrounding her and Effrax.
“Sanctuary,” she cried, reaching for the nearest monk, a frail old man with a shaved head. The word seemed to jolt some sense into him. He scuttled toward her and helped her rise.
“My friend needs medical attention and I need to see Valaan,” she panted. “Where’s the temple?”
The poor monk looked nonplused. With an impatient growl, Roxanne took his gnarled hands and transferred them to Effrax.
“Help him,” she implored, before darting up the steps. “Which way is the temple?” she cried to the surrounding monks. A couple of them, who were staring at her in slack-jawed shock, pointed the way.
“Sanctuary,” she gasped, as she rounded a bend and ran into a flock of holy men. Beyond the monks, she spotted it: two gilded doors stood at the end of the cloisters, each set with heavy black ring handles and stamped with a carved emblem of what appeared to be a bird on fire. This had to be the temple.
She heard angry shouts from the monastery’s entrance. Perhaps the monks couldn’t do anything to repel the soldiers. Perhaps they wouldn’t want to, after her terrifying entrance.
Roxanne raced down the corridor and wrenched the doors open. The rectangular room within was drafty but warm—its wide windows were open to the outside world, but incense fires burned in golden pans that hung from the ceiling on chains. At the head of the room stood an altar on a raised dais. Two more pan-fires burned on either side of it, and behind it was an artfully carved statue of another fiery bird, who she suspected was Valaan.
She was sure the statue was only a representation of the guardian of the Fironem, but with no other ideas on how to summon the phoenix-god, she approached it. She stared into the fierce and elegant face, gathering the last of her strength.
Valaan, she thought, sending out her thoughts as forcefully as she could, you don’t know me and you don’t owe me anything, but I need your help. I’m here on behalf of Thorion Sveltorious, the last living dragon in the world. Necrovar infected him with darksalm, and my friends and I are trying to find a cure. I know gods can’t meddle in mortal affairs, but we have no one else to turn to. If you’re listening, please come.
She was so engrossed in her telepathic communication that she didn’t hear the heavy footfalls behind her until it was too late. Strong hands latched onto her and forced her to her knees. The soldiers had caught up.
“—spies and traitors who seek to ruin the Fironem!” one man was saying to a nearby monk, who was wringing his hands.
“There’s no need for violence,” the monk protested. “Not in a place of worship.” Roxanne squinted at him. He looked oddly familiar.
“We’ve been authorized to handle outsiders with deadly force,” said the bright-eyed soldier. “The Galantasa was keeping the dragon to use against us, and now Windscoure is training his soldiers to combat fire wielders. Who knows what the Smarlindians are plotting?”
“This young lady has claimed sanctuary,” said the familiar monk.
“She’s an enemy! Enemies don’t deserve sanctuary.”
The soldier’s hands tightened about Roxanne, and she hung her head. She’d come all this way for nothing. Another hope had been snuffed out, like a dying candle drowning in a puddle of its own wax.
The men were yelling. Her head was reeling. In her panic and despair, everything seemed to be growing brighter.
No . . . everything was growing brighter. Light filtered through the windows to her right, spilling in from some unknown source. The shouting died. The room grew still as monks and soldiers alike turned to observe the phenomenon.
Roxanne had prepared herself for the worst, so she was stunned when a shimmering phoenix glided into the temple and perched atop the altar.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“It does not do to underestimate simplicity.”
~ Elven Proverb
Roxanne was aware of goings-on behind her—gasps of shock and cries of reverence—but she had eyes only for the glorious beast. He wasn’t made of fire, as she’d imagined he would be. Rather, each of his feathers looked like a flame that had frozen in time. Brilliant veins of red, orange, and gold ran together in his plumage. A crest of feathers curled at the back of his head like a crown that had been tipped askew, and his long tail swayed like a reed in the wind.
Are you Valaan? she asked. Whoever had been holding her had let go, and she slowly approached the altar.
No, he replied, turning his head to examine her with one sharp, black eye.
No? Roxanne stopped mid-step, frowning at the bird. Not that I’m not pleased to meet you, but I was looking for—
Even if Valaan could appear to mortals such as yourself, now he would not be able to. Like the unicorn, this creature’s mindvoice was refined and distinct, almost as if he were using human words.
“Roxanne?”
She pulled herself from her silent conversation and turned. The monks had all knelt. The soldiers had retreated. Effrax had appeared in the doorway, and he was gaping at the bird.
“It’s not Valaan,” she told him in a hollow voice.
“I know,” he whispered. “It’s G’shídrian.”
“Who?”
“G’shídrian de-Tagri’thai, Heart of the Flame’shikrim,” explained the monk who Roxanne thought she recognized. His voice was breathy and his hands shook as he dry-washed them. “The phoenix representative in the Council of Nine.”
Roxanne’s eyes widened. She hadn’t known the Allentrian government included animals in its deliberations.
You’re in the Council? she asked G’shídrian. You work with the empire?
The Flame’shikrim are one of the wielding species of Allentria, so I speak for them in Noryk. Not only for them, but for all the Kingdom.
From the imagery of his thoughts, Roxanne gathered he was referring to the entire animal kingdom.
“Why is he here?” the nervous monk continued.
“I summoned him,” she admitted. “I was trying to contact Valaan and he came instead.”
“She’s a liar,” spat the bright-eyed soldier. “She’s not even Fironian, she’s an earth wielder. There’s no way she could have summoned a phoenix. Brother Azrin, let us have her.”
“Oh dear,” said Brother Azrin.
As soon as Roxanne heard the name, it jogged her memory—she had met him in Noryk. He was one of the lunatics who’d tried to get Keriya to summon Thorion for the empress. Though he was obviously of some importance, he didn’t look very effectual. Roxanne wasn’t about to leave her fate in his hands.
“A liar, am I? Phoenix, come to me,” she cried, pressing her will on G’shídrian and urging him to fly to her shoulder.
G’shídrian remained where he was.
Come to me, she repeated with a tinge of desperation in her thoughts. She raised her arm, inviting him to perch on it. He was big, almost half as tall as Roxanne from crested head to pearly talon, but all birds were lighter than they looked.
I am not a tool for your use, thought G’shídrian. I am not a slave to be commanded by mortals. I am the Heart of the Flame’shikrim, and we are a free people.
I’m sorry, Roxanne thought quickly. I didn’t mean to offend you, but if you don’t help, these men will arrest me.
What do I care for petty human squabbles? he asked, ruffling his feathers.
You cared enough to show up, she shot back. You must have heard me. Necrovar has infected the last living dragon with darksalm, and I’m here to find a cure. This isn’t a human problem, it affects the whole world! If they kill me, I won’t be a
ble to summon Valaan.
I tell you again that Valaan cannot help; for he, too, is now shadowed.
Brother Azrin and the soldier had continued to argue during her telepathic exchange with G’shídrian. She’d been trying to block out their voices so she could concentrate on the phoenix, but when a hand clamped down on her shoulder once more, she was forced to pay attention to the humans.
“You’re coming with me,” hissed the bright-eyed man.
“Let go,” Roxanne grated, trying to pull away from him. He backhanded her across the face and she reeled from the hit.
Suddenly there was a piercing cry, a long note that rang in her ears. With a flurry of golden sparks, G’shídrian launched from the altar and swooped toward the soldier. The horrible man retreated, raising his hands as the phoenix beat his wings to hover protectively in front of Roxanne. Live flames flickered around the edges of his feathers.
The soldier recovered himself and an angry blaze flared to life before him. Roxanne scrambled up to stand beside G’shídrian and clenched her fists, reaching for her magic.
“You will not fight in the Valaani Temple,” Brother Azrin declared, throwing himself between Roxanne and the soldier. “This is a holy place, a place of sanctuary. If you don’t respect that, Master Lavaneyr, respect the will of Lord G’shídrian. He has blessed this young woman with his presence and protection. You will take your men and leave.”
“What?” Lavaneyr gaped at Azrin. “But—she’s a spy!”
“I won’t hear another word against her,” the monk said in his shaky voice. “Out, and take your instruments of war with you.” He cast a disapproving scowl at the soldiers’ swordstaffs.
Lavaneyr gnashed his teeth, but allowed a pair of monks to shoo him and his soldiers out of the temple. As he passed through the gilded doors, he pointed at Roxanne.
“You can’t stay here forever. When you leave, you’ll get what’s coming to you.” Lavaneyr transferred his glare to Effrax. “If you’re helping shifters, you’re no better than the girl. You’ll share her fate, and it won’t be pretty.”
“I’m shaking in my boots,” Effrax drawled as the monks pulled the doors shut behind Lavaneyr.
Thank you, Roxanne thought to G’shídrian. She offered him her arm again as a courtesy, and this time he accepted. His halo of fire flickered out as he settled on her shoulder, a warm and reassuring weight.
“My lady,” said Brother Azrin, “I don’t know if you remember me, but—”
“I do,” she interrupted. “I saw you in the Vale Room with Keriya.”
“I have heard many things,” said Azrin. “Many terrible things about her and Lord Thorion, not to mention the other members of your group.” His eyes darted between Roxanne and Effrax, who limped over to join them.
“Then why did you save us?” asked Roxanne.
“You claimed sanctuary,” he replied. “And even if I believed half the things I heard, I would have taken Lord G’shídrian’s presence as a sign. He would never have protected one who wasn’t pure of heart.”
Roxanne glanced sideways at the great bird on her shoulder.
“Besides, I am not so foolish as to have forgotten who the true enemy is,” Azrin continued. “The Fironem was suffering long before Lord Thorion returned to Allentria. In the same way that the dragon has been forced to commit unspeakable acts, so too have many of our people. These are dark times. I fear Valaan cannot protect us from the Shadow’s influence any longer.”
“G’shídrian said Valaan was shadowed,” said Roxanne. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
Azrin’s eyes went wide. He made a strange gesture and muttered a prayer to the four guardians of Allentria.
“But Valaan is a god,” said Roxanne in disbelief. “How could Necrovar have poisoned him?”
“He won’t be the first god the Shadow has destroyed,” said Effrax. His face looked ashen beneath the grime that had accumulated there during the battle. “Necrovar murdered Gravien and Zeos during the Great War and stole their powers. If he has a hold on Valaan, that explains why the Fironem is weakening. It also means my father is in danger.”
Roxanne furrowed her brow. “Your father?”
“King Embersnag,” he replied heavily.
It came as little shock to hear that Effrax was the son of the king. She’d been able to piece the clues together over the past few months.
“Why’s he in danger?”
“Just as each god is connected to the magicthreads in his or her state, so are the human rulers,” said Azrin. “When King Embersnag was crowned, his soul was bound to the threads of the Fironem—thus, his fate is linked to the fate of his kingdom.”
Effrax scrubbed a hand through his hair. “This is what I wanted to avoid. I had hoped that Thorion . . .” He sighed. “I need to return to my home. Roxanne, forgive me—I don’t want to leave you, but I can’t wait here for the others to arrive.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Effrax shook his head. “You have to stay, otherwise your friends will never find you again.”
“You’re forgetting what I can do,” she replied, not unkindly. “My animals can find them and let them know we’re going to see the king.”
“How will your animals deliver the message to humans who can’t mindspeak?”
“We can write letters.”
“What would happen if our letters get intercepted?” asked Effrax. “Everyone in Allentria is looking for us. You’d lead our enemies to my father’s palace.”
“Then we’ll write in code,” Roxanne snapped. “We aren’t splitting up, and even if we did, what good would it do for the others to come here? Valaan can’t help us. The only thing Keriya can do is what Shivnath wanted: she has to find Necrovar and kill him herself.”
“Oh my,” Brother Azrin said faintly, fanning himself with one hand.
“It will be too dangerous for you in the south,” said Effrax.
Roxanne laughed. “By my count, you’d be dead four times over since leaving Noryk if I hadn’t been there to save your neck. You need me.”
She had fully expected him to keep arguing. Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed himself a small smile. “That I do,” he whispered.
“I could travel with you,” said Azrin. “Though the Fironem is torn by chaos and fear, none of our countrymen would dare accost a holy man. My presence may provide protection.”
“I think you overestimate our countrymen,” Effrax said dryly, “but we would be glad of more company at this point.”
If you need additional support, thought G’shídrian, startling Roxanne with his unexpected intrusion in her head, my people can find ways to help.
You would do that? she asked, staring sidelong at him. She hadn’t thought he could understand Allentrian, but it seemed he’d been following their spoken conversation. Why do you care what happens to us? We’re human.
I do not hate humans, I merely resent human arrogance, he thought. And I care what happens to my Kingdom. If you are fighting the Shadow, I will do what I can to fight with you. Kill him before he kills Valaan, he added, clicking his beak in emphasis. Valaan is the lord of our light and guardian of our magic. If he should fall, I fear the rest of Allentria will not be far behind.
Despite his ominous words, the future suddenly seemed less dark to Roxanne, as if G’shídrian had banished the gathering shadows with his shining presence. She bowed her head to him in thanks.
Then I am in your debt, she thought.
They settled on sending two zarptas, the fastest birds in the Fironem, with messages to Keriya and Fletcher.
G’shídrian had offered the services of the Flame’shikrim—which, Roxanne now understood, was the phoenixes’ word for themselves—but the humans politely declined, citing that massive fiery birds flying across Allentria might attract unwanted attention.
Roxan
ne wrote two identical letters to her friends. Effrax commended her for using coded runes, but she was just using Aerian script. Though the Allentrians had a different alphabet, she made the messages as vague as possible:
We reached the place where we were planning to meet, but it was a dead-end. I’m leaving with the Fironian to visit his father, who needs some help with his home.
We ask you to join us as soon as you can, as it will bring Nameless closer to the end of the quest she was given by the patron saint of our hometown.
- R
You remember what your human looks like? Roxanne asked as she secured the second letter to the leg of the larger zarpta. He flapped his wings in a self-impressed manner and shot her an image of Fletcher, a reflection of the mental picture she had provided him.
The zarptas are clever, thought G’shídrian, who presided over the operation. I will send word throughout the Kingdom. All my people will be seeking your humans. We will find them before the big-moon is round once more.
We thank you for your courage, Roxanne thought to zarptas.
Go, G’shídrian added, pressing a sense of urgency upon them. May Valaan light your path and may Naero fill your wings with wind. May Zumarra watch over you and may Shivnath guide you to your quarries, fast and true.
The zarptas took to the skies through the window of the monastery library. They flew together for a few moments; then one banked east, heading toward Elvinthrane, and the other angled west.
“That’s all we can do,” said Effrax, watching the receding birds with a faraway expression.
“The Valaani Order has arranged mounts for us in Duxain,” said Brother Azrin. “We will leave tonight under cover of darkness.”
Roxanne nodded. She turned from the monk to face G’shídrian. Are you sure you won’t come with us?
I am needed elsewhere, he thought. I am a poor substitute for Valaan, but if you are ever in need of help, you have only to call for me and I will come.
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