by K T Munson
“Thank you,” Aradel smiled as she maneuvered Kirill into the temple.
“That woman,” Kirill grumbled the moment they were within the temple.
“That woman is our holy leader,” Aradel reminded him, to which he simply grunted.
The wide steps of the temple were filled with people, but it was worse inside. They avoided the large area to the right. It was made of pale marble and decorated to match the eerie blue of the moon. Aradel thought it was beautiful, but Kirill found no peace there. All he saw was a silent goddess who had not blessed them with anything since moon pearls a millennium ago. If the world was in fact destabilizing, and it would lead to their destruction, why would the moon goddess remain silent?
Since he had learned of the disasters and death coming their way, he had gone to pray. Yet still the moon goddess remained silent, despite the hundreds that came within the temple walls daily. He had lost his faith, but he felt purpose in his duty. Faith suddenly didn’t seem necessary, and it also meant avoiding High Priestess Kerin. Both of which he could live with.
He had not shared his doubts with Aradel. She didn’t need to be influenced by his sudden change of heart. If Aradel did become Queen, Kirill knew she would need High Priestess Kerin’s support. All of which made Kirill keep his tongue still on the subject.
The pale walls of the temple and high ceilings reminded him of the palace. They had been constructed in likeness of each other. Unlike the ceiling of the palace, the ceilings of the temple were solid, and covered in an ongoing picture. It depicted one of the most well-known stories about the Sun God and the Moon Goddess, one which, even though it was familiar, was told differently by every person. Over the eons, the true story had been lost.
“Kirill?” a voice called softly, and he turned to his right to see his mother in the hall.
“Mother,” Kirill said, coming over to her.
Aradel fell behind, likely not sure if Tristra would remember her today. He took his mother in his arms and kissed her softly on the cheek. She put her hands on his arms and gave a cry of delight. He had not visited as often as he should because of his trip to Secille, and the meetings with the Fire Nation.
“What are you doing here?” his mother asked, appearing almost like her old self.
“I have to go away again,” he told her.
“But you’ve only just returned,” his mother said sadly before surveying the room. She glanced back at him before asking, “Who did you bring with you today?”
“You remember Aradel,” Kirill said and felt his eyebrows furrow.
“You’ve gotten so big!” Tristra cried and threw her arms around Aradel.
“I’m sorry I haven’t visited lately,” Aradel commented.
“I’ll say so. You’ve only just started your candidacy,” his mother exclaimed. She took Aradel’s face in her hands and added, “And yet you look so much like an adult!”
Aradel had been a candidate for nearly two years. His mother was lost in a world that was years before. That was when her memory problems began, and she often returned to that time. That was her happiest time, when Aradel had first begun her candidacy, and Kirill had been promoted to Commander. He understood his mother’s need to cling to those happiest memories and let the others fade.
“Are you going again as well?” Tristra asked Aradel.
Before she could answer Kirill interjected, “Aradel is not coming this time, but she will visit you as much as she can.”
“Then I won’t be as lonely this time,” Tristra said.
“Commander Kirill,” a soldier called, standing off to the side. He appeared to be uncomfortable for interrupting, but Kirill knew he had taken too long already. He put a hand on his mother’s arm and kissed her gently on the cheek.
She patted his face as he straightened. “You’re such a good son,” she muttered, but Kirill could already see she was losing her hold on reality.
“Good-bye, mother,” he said and gave a final nod to Aradel.
Aradel linked her arms with his mother, who seemed to come back to reality then. Even Tristra knew that Aradel wasn’t prone to affection, too afraid of getting hurt. His mother patted Aradel’s arm and said something Kirill couldn’t hear as he turned away. That is how he wanted to remember them. Should he never see them again, the last image of his mother and Aradel would be of that moment.
Kirill hurried down the stairs of the temple without sparing High Priestess Kerin a passing glance. He mounted the elk waiting for him, as the young soldier who was sent to retrieve him did the same on his own. As they rode from Axion, out into the wasteland of snow to the east, he allowed himself only one final glimpse of Axion. He then turned forward and never looked back again, wondering what adventures were waiting for him in the north.
Fire: Chapter Sixteen
Now was the time. As Ekil contemplated his deformities in the cracked mirror, he finally, for the first time, felt proud of them. For him, the melted scar tissue down the left side of his face and neck, and half of his body, had been a reminder of his shame, his defeat. Not anymore.
Unrest was stirring in both the Fire Nation and Frost Nation over their tense partnership to try and fix the planet. They were fools, since they were the cause of what the Gods were bringing down on them. The rutty magic users needed to be destroyed. Only then would the planet return to normal.
Queen Darha was making a monumental mistake getting into bed with the Frost Nation, and Ekil was going to reap the benefits of it. Never had he been in such a position, not even the first time he took on the royal family. Doing them in now was the least he could do to repay Queen Darha for the scars, which her mother, Queen Berselis, had branded him with decades ago.
Before, he had hidden them because of the shame. Now he felt they were a talisman, a beacon of what he’d nearly accomplished.
A soft knock came on his bathing room door, and Hirsa popped her head in. “The emissary from the Frost Nation is here,” she announced softly. Ekil nodded once, and Hirsa silently backed out of the door and closed it.
Now was the time to finish what Ekil had started in his youth. Finally, the annihilation of the magic users was at hand. The Sun God’s wrath was coming down on the abominations of the magic users, the famous oppressors. They were an affront to nature, an offense to what was normal and decent. Only the Gods should possess such power!
With a last long look at his scars, he pushed himself away from his sink and headed out the door. Rounding the corner and entering his dark living room, Ekil saw the long, slender silhouette of the Frost Nation native. “Tulya?”
The woman slowly turned around to face him, drawing back the hood of her dark cloak, and short blonde curls spilled forth framing her face. In the moonlight, Ekil could see one thick streak of white hair on the right side of her head.
“Ekil.” Her dark blue-green eyes scanned the remains of his house, which was little more than rubble from the quake.
His cooking room had no roof and only three walls. Holes ranging in size from his fist, to his head, were everywhere and cracks ran ragged through the entire length of his house. Sections along the seam of the roof were missing, and small piles of clay and rock dust littered his floors and carpets. He wouldn’t leave, though, mostly because there was nowhere else to go. All the homes in the Versis Mountains were in the same general condition or worse; most were gone completely.
“These are not ideal conditions to be meeting in,” she pointed out. “Perhaps you should have come to the Frost Nation instead.” She gazed out the window. “At least to escape this horrid place for a short time.”
Ekil resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He needed to remember that this woman was his ally at the moment. “An escape would be welcome. My tall, rocky landscape just hides you better during travel than your white, wooded landscape would hide me.”
Tulya met his eyes briefly before nodding once. “Fair enough.” She took the edges of her cloak and spread it out to her sides gracefully before sitting down on
the edge of his large cushioned chair. Her blue-green eyes peered at him. “What happened to your face?”
Ekil slowly ran the tip of his middle finger down his deformed cheek. “The result of the last time I attempted to clear the planet of its magical filth.”
“Clearly a failed attempt,” Tulya concluded.
Ekil quickly sat in the chair across from her. His hands gestured to match his words. “But I need you to understand how close I was.”
The woman’s eyes were patient, but fierce. Ekil had heard of her through his very few, but very exceptional, spies in the merchant ranks that dealt with the Frost Nation during trade when the bridges were intact. He’d kept his letter to her brief and cryptic, in case it was intercepted, but he’d proposed the idea of an alliance. If she wanted to know more, she should meet him here on this day and time.
“I’m listening,” she said.
Ekil interlaced his fingers together and looked Tulya square in the eyes. “I got to the royal family.”
Tulya’s eyes widened maliciously. “Did you now?” she asked, sounding impressed at last.
“The current Queen, Queen Darha, was only an infant at the time.” Ekil repressed a sigh of frustration as he recalled the memory. “I was in the throne room. My army filled it to such capacity, that they overflowed out the doors and down the steps of the palace.” Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. “But in a strange burst of strength, something I’d never seen before, and have never seen since, or even heard of, Queen Berselis took out more than three quarters of my army in one magical hit. One”—he held up a finger— “just one burst of fire, and I was defeated and—” Ekil indicated his face— “scarred for life.”
Tulya pursed her lips and nodded slowly. “So, I assume since you summoned me here, you’d like to try to overthrow the royal family again?”
“Families,” he stressed. “The Frost Nation’s too.”
Tulya’s eyes widened slightly before she looked at him with a bored, flat expression. “The Frost Nation? Take out the Frost Nation Queen?” Ekil nodded confidently. “Are you daft?” she asked, making him freeze in astonishment. “That’s wonderful that you managed to get so close to the royal family so recently, but no one has challenged Frost Nation royalty in more than a hundred years. We don’t dare. I don’t know much about your Sun God, but our Moon Goddess blesses our royalty. We don’t fancy challenging a Goddess! We live in relative peace in the east. We are segregated from the rest of the nation, but we hold our own.”
Ekil leaned heavily over his knees. “From what I understand, your Queen is incredibly aged and was injured in the quake.”
“That’s true, but the Goddess’s moon pearls haven’t dimmed on her time yet.”
Ekil held up a finger. “But they will. They will,” he stressed.
“And then they will choose another Queen,” Tulya said impatiently.
“But a younger Queen. A less experienced Queen, yes?”
Tulya paused and visibly relaxed. “Yes, a younger Queen. But the many candidates who could take the throne are each incredibly powerful.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Ekil stressed.
“Doesn’t it?”
“Tell me, Tulya,” Ekil said smoothly, his confidence returning. “Of all the candidates, what is the favored candidate’s position on my people?”
Tulya shrugged a shoulder. “She seems indifferent.”
“Is she in favor of partnering with Queen Darha?”
“She certainly is. But it’s likely because Queen Vesna is in favor of the partnership. The favored candidate even volunteered to go on the quest with your people herself, but Queen Vesna ultimately chose someone else.”
Ekil smiled broadly, baring his teeth, then held out his hands to his sides. “Look around you, Tulya.” He met her eyes. “What is happening now is a perfect opportunity for both of us to overthrow our nation’s royalty.”
Her brows drew together curiously. “How?”
Ekil counted off his fingers. “Unrest in both of our nations due to the partnership between them. Unrest in the populace means distrust or anger toward the royal families. The planet falling apart around us on top of that cultivates incredible fear. Combine fear and the distrust for royalty, and people are going to be searching for answers.” Ekil held his hands out far to his sides. “We can be those answers.” Tulya’s eyes brightened with such malice that Ekil felt a jolt of excitement hit him in the chest. “Hatred for our opposite nations still festers in the hearts of both our people—fierce, murderous hatred. But people stay silent so as not to oppose the Queens. They won’t speak out against them unless they know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they are supported.”
Tulya nodded enthusiastically and slowly sat up in the chair. “If we question our leaders quietly about their decisions regarding the opposite nation, people will begin to turn from their loyalty.”
“The embers of disloyalty are already burning,” Ekil said with quiet excitement. “Two of the four regional overlords in my nation have already muttered about Queen Darha losing her mind, and perhaps being too young, or unfit to rule.”
Tulya nodded enthusiastically again. “The same thing is happening in my nation. People are saying Queen Vesna might have a mental illness due to her old age and may be unfit to rule any longer.”
“If we can fan those embers, our numbers will swell exponentially because even our hated magic users will join our cause.”
Tulya smiled wickedly. “And it couldn’t hurt to have some powerful magic users in our ranks until the Queens are dealt with.”
“A revolutionary fire will be kindled,” Ekil said, barely able to contain his joy. “And when the royal families are overthrown, we can execute the remaining magic users.”
Tulya’s excitement was growing quickly, until it suddenly seemed to hit a wall. She sighed heavily and sat back in her chair. “This is pointless. The Moon Goddess would never allow it. The pearls still glow for Queen Vesna.”
“Tulya,” Ekil said abruptly, “the planet is disintegrating around us. Everything! The drinking water, the quakes, the storms, the sea life, the volcanos, everything that is happening to our planet is a clear sign of their wrath. Don’t you see that? If the Gods were still pleased with our nations, why would they be doing this to us?” Tulya’s eyes brightened with realization. “I think these pearls of yours still glow because your Goddess is testing your faith, to see if you have the courage to remedy the magical abominations regardless.” Ekil saw Tulya’s jaw working furiously as she thought about that possibility. “If we want our planet to survive,” he continued, “the Gods’ wrath must be sated. The only way to do that is to destroy the magic users that offend them. If we take that mantle upon ourselves, the Sun God and the Moon Goddess will bless our efforts. They have clearly abandoned everyone else.”
Tulya nodded, excitement returning to her eyes as she sat up. “All right. What do we do first?”
“Right now, we need to quietly fan the flames of distrust and disloyalty toward our royalty. At the same time, allow ourselves to slowly emerge as capable leaders. Not too quickly, though, because that would raise suspicion. When there is enough uproar, and we have enough numbers behind us, we will meet again and discuss a plan of action.”
“Our plan of action will likely need to be on the move. My nation hardly sits still these days. A large group just crossed the River Gora to pick up your soldiers and take them to the west coast.”
Ekil nodded once. “We have scouts watching Thea’s progress to the west. Once conditions are favorable to meet, we will send word.”
“Very well,” Tulya said and stood gracefully from the chair, pulling her hood back over her head. “After our royalty is overthrown, we will have nothing to do with each other, correct?”
“Absolutely not,” Ekil said firmly and stood.
“Good,” Tulya responded with barely concealed venom. “I don’t fancy dealing with you or your people ever again.”
“Likewise.”
Tulya nodded once and walked to his door. Pulling it open, she stepped out into the night, and disappeared without a glance back. Watching her leave, Ekil felt a spark of hope ignite. Now was the time.
Frost: Chapter Seventeen
The virgin snow crunched under the weight of the elk. A large group of men and women marched behind Kirill. Unlike him, they would be turning back once the heat in the north became too much for them and the Fire Nation took over the journey escorting the iceberg. There was a chance he might not be returning at all, so Kirill took in every sight with a new, appraising eye, and committed it to memory.
A trip that had once seemed so long was suddenly very short. Already they had reached the top of the hill that led down to the shoreline. Off in the distance, across the horizon, sat the Isle of Ice. He couldn’t see them, but he knew there were men working to break off a large chunk of the isle. If they had cut into the ice far enough, Kirill knew he could do the rest.
When the march caught up to him, Kirill started down the hill toward the shore. At the bottom, was the young man he had sent ahead, loading the last of the water barrels into the boats that would take him to the isle. Once the iceberg was free and floating on its own, his men would move the barrels onto it. Kirill wasn’t sure how much water he would need to consume during their trip, but he decided it was better to have too much than too little. If he had too little, the consequences could be deadly. For a magic user in the Frost Nation, water was more valuable than any weapon.
When the soldier turned back toward the approaching host, Kirill lifted a hand in greeting. The young man waved back enthusiastically and Kirill tried not to cringe. The young soldier, Kip, was like an excited wolf pup. He seemed to be a huge admirer of Kirill—to the point of annoyance. This was the main reason Kirill had sent him ahead with the extra elk, although he’d done it under the pretense of having Kip alert the other soldiers to Kirill’s arrival.
“Commander Kirill,” Kip called eagerly.