Daughter of Lightning

by Anna Logan

  Most often, Grrake was around when he had nothing to do, and they ended up trying to solve the problem together. For whatever reason, Grrake never had anything else to do, unless he was writing to Shanteya or, occasionally, spending time with Larak at the smithy that had become a hobby of theirs. If Yhkon even vaguely seemed to be tolerating companionship, Grrake almost always accompanied him.

  Grrake, however, was in Jalkiva. With the wards. Where Yhkon would much prefer to be, rather than dreading the upcoming council meeting. Better yet, he’d like the wards to be here in Calcaria, where they belonged.

  He instantly regretted not bringing a cloak as he left the palace. It was bitterly cold out, as always. The Elikwai base wasn’t far, only half a mile. It consisted of a barrack, a training arena, a stable, and an indoor, smaller arena. It was the latter he went to. There was no one in the outdoor arena, anyway.

  It was dim inside. The place had a few separate, small rooms, but mostly the large range where warriors dueled with swords, used throwing knives or arrows on targets, practiced maneuvers, or repaired and polished their gear. It wasn’t a particularly quiet place, with the clash of swords, the movement, the laughter and yells of the men. But it was easy to blend in. There were a handful of individuals on the sidelines, spectating, keeping to the shadows.

  That was what he did. Found a spot against the wall and watched. Evaluated. Assessed. All for no real reason, other than to distract himself.

  There was an itch in his fingers, a restlessness in his hands. All too familiar. The anger, trapped, searching for an outlet. Earlier, that outlet had been the destruction of a chair. When in Zentyre, the only effective outlets were rare, those being the occasional instances of conflict, whether with Asyjgon or zorcs. Here, the best outlet that wouldn’t potentially hurt someone was one of the targets on the opposite wall.

  Yhkon strode determinedly to the rack of weapons meant for practice, selecting an assortment of throwing knives, and a belt to attach them to his waist. He picked his way to an unoccupied corner, where there was a target on the wall, and a few others standing around him. He took his stance and yanked two knives from the belt, throwing them both at the main target. They each hit within inches of each other at the center. Hand pulling out another blade even as he spun, he threw with the momentum, lodging a knife into one of the standing targets. By the time his spin had brought him back around, he’d put two stars in another one. His final three blades were distributed between the remaining two targets.

  Without so much as a pause, he gathered up the knives and returned them to the rack. Throwing a few daggers at motionless, wooden targets had done nothing to ease his tension.

  “Impressive.”

  He whirled at the unexpected voice, bringing a young man into view. Not just any young man—this one wore Warden garb. Yhkon smiled despite himself. “Ahjul. What have I told you about sneaking up on me?”

  Ahjul grinned, making his boyish features even more so. He was the only Warden younger than Yhkon, at twenty-three. “You told me if I managed it, you’d replace my wooden practice sword with a real one.”

  “Yet for some reason, you’ve already got a real one.”

  “Because this isn’t the first time I’ve snuck up on you.” Ahjul extended his hand.

  Yhkon grasped his wrist firmly and held it, in the gesture most Elikwai used when greeting an equal. It made Ahjul’s smile widen. “How’ve you been?”

  “Good, but I reckon I’ve far less to tell of my recent activities than you.” The young Warden’s head tilted with interest. “So? You’ve got Talea and Wylan and the twins in Jalkiva?”

  “That’s where I left them, anyway.” He started walking, and Ahjul followed. “Unfortunately, we did have some hiccups on the way. Mostly my fault.” Ahjul probably respected him more than any of the other Wardens, which somehow made it easier to be honest with him. If it was Tarol he was talking to, not so much. “Could have used more Elikwai. Do you know what was up with that? I meant to ask when we got to Jalkiva but forgot.”

  Ahjul frowned, something he didn’t do often. “I do know why, though the council is going to tell you, so maybe they don’t want me to.”

  Yhkon snorted. “To the wind with the council, I don’t see any reason why you can’t tell me first.”

  “Alright…well, it’s because Kaydor has instigated the Eradication in Zentyre.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks. A cold rigidity crept into the muscles in his shoulders.

  Ahjul looked at him worriedly. “They want us to go get the rest of the wards now.”

  Yhkon swallowed. He didn’t want to erupt in front of Ahjul. The familiar heat was flaring in his core, eating away at his self-control. There was no way to let it out here without hurting something or someone, or without showing Ahjul more than he wanted to see of a man he admired.

  “Yhkon?” Ahjul said, tentatively. “We’re going to get them out. Nothing will happen to them before we get there, Narone wouldn’t allow—”

  “Narone allows all sorts of things He shouldn’t!”

  Ahjul fell silent, blue eyes wide. Innocent, frightened.

  Yhkon put his hands on either side of his head, raking his fingers through his still-damp hair. Get it together. Get it together! “I’m sorry, Ahjul. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  A pause. “But do you believe it?”

  He closed his eyes. Wished desperately that Grrake were there with him. Grrake would put a hand on Ahjul’s shoulder, he’d smile reassuringly, he’d explain away Yhkon’s actions and preserve Ahjul’s good—if naive—opinion of him. Grrake would be able to say that “no, it wasn’t true” genuinely, without lying. Yhkon could either lie, or let Ahjul know what he really thought, and be the one who stabbed the heart of the young man’s honest faith.

  He chose to lie. “No, I don’t. I’m just mad.”

  The questioning head-tilt returned. “Mad at who?”

  “Kaydor. It’s…” he winced, meeting Ahjul’s gaze. Somehow, he had to reassure him. Ahjul was one of the few people he felt he couldn’t, or at least shouldn’t, push away. “It’s just that I was in Zentyre when Kaydor brought the Eradication there fifteen years ago, and I saw a lot of San Quawr killed.”

  “Oh.” Ahjul’s expression softened with sympathy. If ever there was an individual who seemed altogether too kind and docile to be a warrior—yet was—it was Ahjul. And maybe Grrake. Yet they were both the top warriors of Calcaria. “I’m sorry.”

  Yhkon shook his head, hoping to end the conversation. “Well, I still have a council meeting to attend, if only to hear it from their lips and agree that we need to go back. Come on.” They kept going, leaving the arena and the Elikwai base for the palace. “Where are the other men?” he asked over the howling of the wind.

  Ahjul answered as they were practically blown into the palace. “They know about it all, too, so they’re getting ready to go, since we assumed we’d be leaving after your meeting.” He gave Yhkon an apologetic glance. “Sorry we didn’t come greet you when you arrived, or just earlier. I would have. But they didn’t actually tell us you were coming this soon.”

  If he’d been able, he would have smiled. Ahjul was also the only Warden, aside from Grrake, who would apologize for not coming to greet him. The rest of them would probably stay clear for as long as possible. “That’s alright.” They were nearing the council room. “Alright, you go get packed, too. Let them know that unless the council has some other ridiculous notion, we’ll be leaving in a couple hours.”

  With a smile and a nod, Ahjul left to do as bidden. Yhkon watched him go, before facing the double doors that stood between him and the dreary matter awaiting him. It probably wasn’t quite eight yet, but he suspected the councilmen would be there anyway. Except Bactah, maybe, who had a habit of being late.

  He didn’t bother knocking. Just strode in. All seven members were present: Enisham, Ilidyu, Kwin, Reller, Juplay, Hop, and Bactah. Seated around their long, mahogany table, staring up at him apprehe
nsively.

  That was how it was. They were usually either apprehensive when he was around, or annoyed. “Council members,” he dipped his head to them.

  The uneasy silence, however, didn’t bode well for the rest of the meeting. Something was wrong. Maybe it’s just about the Eradication.

  “Hey, Y.” Bactah said quietly. As usual, he was the one with a light-hearted comment to break the silence.

  “Bactah,” Enisham said under his breath, chiding.

  Yhkon narrowed his eyes. “He’s not allowed to greet me? What is this, am I in for a lecture?”

  “Actually, yes.” Enisham’s gray eyes were even colder than usual. “But first, let’s—”

  “No, I already know about the Eradication being in Zentyre. Ahjul told me. And I agree that we should go get the other wards immediately.” He crossed his arms. “Let’s hear this lecture.”

  Ilidyu, the oldest council member, was reluctantly refusing to make eye contact. “We’re glad you agree. Do you plan to bring the wards we have now along with you? Perhaps we should—”

  “Yes, I do. We’ll need their help to convince the rest, and if we get in a tight spot, they can get us out of it.” He leveled a glare at all of them, sparing only Bactah, because he could already tell his friend was opposed to whatever criticism they were going to make of him. “I don’t have all day, so let’s get to the point.”

  “Fine.” Enisham folded his hands on the table and looked him straight in the eye. Unfortunately, Enisham was probably the one person who could maintain a glower longer than he could. “Here’s the point. Tarol sent us a message. He told us that when a band of Asyjgon surrounded you all, wanting to do their usual thieving, you recklessly attacked without taking the time to get in formation and make sure the wards were safe. That you—out of nothing but aggression—paid no heed to the fact that Talea was not safely behind one of you. That because of it, she had to use her lightning to defend herself, which then resulted in her later capture, which also happened to be while you were on watch, making it—”

  “You’re accusing me of failing at my duty?” Yhkon didn’t care that he’d nearly shouted the words. He didn’t care of the heat that was flaming inside his muscles took over. “Of being too aggressive?” he jammed an accusing finger in the air at them. “You appointed me as lead Warden because I am the top warrior in the whole blasted region. I am the best you’ve got. You have no right to accuse me of—”

  “We have every right.” Enisham stood up, eyes flashing so fiercely that Yhkon almost backed up a step. “I, for one, never approved of the decision to make you lead Warden over Grrake, or Larak. I knew from the beginning what the rest of them chose to ignore.”

  Ilidyu started to say something. Yhkon spoke over him, words forced from behind clenched teeth. “And what’s that?”

  Enisham straightened. Bold. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be shoved back into his seat by Ilidyu with surprising force. “That’s enough.” The white eyebrows were drawn tightly in disapproval. “I shouldn’t have expected you to be so petty and spiteful, Enisham.”

  Enisham scowled. “I’m only saying the truth, while all of you are—”

  “Enisham.” Every fiber in Yhkon’s body strained, urging him to attack. “You should know that I will not have much restraint left if you choose to speak to me like that again.”

  For once, Enisham was silent.

  Juplay put a hand to his forehead, sighing. “This is exactly why I said you shouldn’t do the talking, Enisham.” He faced Yhkon. “Listen. He may want to pick a fight with you, but the rest of us don’t. We just want to make sure the Wardens are under capable leadership, and the wards are well protected.”

  Enisham’s words had infuriated him. Juplay’s felt like a slap to the face. “And you think they aren’t.”

  “We didn’t say that,” Reller was grimacing. “We just…well, it’s a tricky situation. What Tarol told us was rather concerning.”

  Tingling warmth spread up the back of Yhkon’s neck, while his hands balled into fists. “Tarol has been jealous of me from day one. He’s a competitive, obstinate hothead with—”

  “Then do you deny its truth?” Kwin’s quiet question silenced him as effectively as if he’d cut out his tongue.

  He retreated a step without meaning to. Sought out Bactah’s gaze. It was pained. Grrake. If only Grrake were there. Yhkon gulped down the pressure in his throat, wondering if it was the rage or the torment that was displayed in his expression. “What is it you want?”

  That didn’t seem to be the response they were expecting. Several of them exchanged glances. “We don’t want anything,” Hop said. “We’re just, well, I guess we’re just warning you. Whatever it was exactly that happened, whatever your reasons were, just please don’t let it happen again. At some point, we would have to—”

  “Have to what?” he cocked his head with mock curiosity. “Replace me? Revoke me as Warden?”

  More nervous glance. “Only if we had no other choice,” Juplay finally said.

  “Who would you replace me with? Grrake? I doubt he’d stick around if you got rid of me. Larak? Okay, well, who are you going to fill my, Grrake’s, and Ahjul’s slots with? Some Elikwai? Right, because all of them have full knowledge of the wards. They’ve spent the last seven years studying, training, protecting, for exactly this job. They’ve been in on it from the beginning.”

  Ilidyu tried to interrupt him. He raised his voice, not caring that his tone was dripping with disdainful sarcasm. “And let’s not forget, we’ve got all the wards full trust. It’s not as if half of them don’t know anything about us. It’s not as if half of them do know us, and trust us, while they’ve never met more than a handful of Elikwai. It’s not as if myself and the other Wardens have trained harder than any other warriors in Calcaria and have trained specifically to be the most elite team, to be able to guard and mentor the wards.”

  “Enough, Yhkon!” Juplay said, impatiently. “We get it. You’ve made your point.”

  “Have I?” he realized his hand was on the pommel of his sword, the handle fitted intimately to his palm. “Then let me make another point: if you wanted to be rid of me, you should have done it a long time ago.” The muscles in his arms were flexed, ready for action. Craving it. “I’m leaving now. The other Wardens and I are flying back to Jalkiva. From there, we’ll all go as a group to collect the rest of the wards. If you have any further concerns, write me a letter, and I’ll use it for kindling.” Yhkon spun on his heel and left the room, ignoring the objections called after him, slamming the door behind him.

  There was a tremble in his hands. Other than that, he didn’t feel a thing. Just empty.

  21

  The Eight

  T alea sank into the empty seat beside Brenly, putting her across from Nakelsie, Wylan, and the twins. “Good glory,” she blew a strand of hair from her face. “Grrake is merciless.”

  Nakelsie laughed her agreement. “Amen to that. I’ve trained with Yhkon and Grrake some. Surprisingly enough, Grrake is the more brutal of the two in that area.”

  “What does he have you doing?” Seles asked, from where she sat with Naylen on one side and Alili on the other. There was a hint of worry in her voice. Talea remembered her look of shock when Talea had arrived in trousers and a shirt to lunch the day before. The previous two days she’d changed into a dress after training. But, getting used to how much more convenient the pants were, she’d asked Grrake if she could stay in them; he’d said yes. She had a feeling that her mother would not have.

  “Running, drills, workouts,” she answered simply.

  “I suppose it’s for the best,” Loestin said, sitting on Alili’s other side. “If you’re going back to Zentyre and all in a few months, being prepared won’t hurt.”

  Talea only nodded. She knew her parents, especially her father, hadn’t yet gotten used to the idea of her being a prophesied warrior-to-be with a freakish ability. Of course, he’d had an easier time believing it when he
saw that ability for himself. But believing or not, she didn’t think either of them liked it.

  Not that she could blame them. She didn’t really want it. Yet for some reason, she wished they did.

  “Oh, wull be prapared alright.” Ki bobbed his head decidedly. “Grrake’ll make sure o’ that. ‘Member thet time,” he elbowed Kae, “thet time a few years back, when him’n Yhkon came, with thet girl…thet um…ya know, whas-her-face.”

  “Whas-her-face,” Naylen echoed, with a smirk. “My, I’d sure like to hear about that time with whas-her-face.”

  “Hold yer celiths,” Ki waved a hand dismissively his direction, before whacking Kae’s shoulder. “Come on! Don’t ya ‘member thet time?”

  “You mean…” Kae was frowning, not meeting her brother’s expectant look. “The time they came with…Tessa?”

  Nakelsie put down the glass of water she’d been sipping on. “Don’t tell that story, Ki.”

  Ki wrinkled his nose. “Why not? It ain’t got nothin’ ta do with Tessa, she jes happened ta be there.”

  Wylan spoke before Nakelsie could. “Who’s Tessa?”

  All eyes fell on Nakelsie. She met them nervously. “She…we’re not supposed to talk about her.”

  “Who’s we’re, and why not?” Naylen asked.

  “Anyone that knows who she is, because, um, Yhkon doesn’t want us to.”

  Talea studied Nakelsie’s anxious expression with a frown. She looks scared. Everyone else had turned their attention to the twins, hoping perhaps they would disclose information that Nakelsie wouldn’t.

  “Don’t look at us,” Kae shook her head, also nervous, but not with the same suggestion of fear. “She just came with Yhkon and Grrake one of the times they came to our house, a few years ago. After that, we never saw her again, and Grrake told us it would be better never to speak of her.”