by Trudie Skies
THE GUARDIAN OF GAI
The reports didn’t look good. I thumbed through the scroll with my left hand and reached for the wine with my right. The glass spilled across the table.
I blinked. Even after seventeen years, I sometimes forgot my injury, most often when exhaustion settled in my bones.
“Tired, Lord Talin?” Prince Ravel said.
His comment seemed innocent enough, but it set off smirks from the handful of men in the room watching me: Farzad Fellbond, Khan Khalbond, and Zahir Xanbond. I couldn’t afford to make a mistake when their talons were ready to strike.
Each held a grudge against me. And each had bent to Prince Ravel’s will. Salasar, I thought I could trust, but his loyalty to the King only stretched so far if his wife and daughters were in danger. A feeling I knew all too well.
I sat up and straightened my sahn. “Reading so many reports would make anyone weary, my Prince.”
The Prince inclined his head. “Especially considering their contents. Where do we stand on this matter? Our ambassador is not here to explain Neu Bosa’s actions.”
The Three-Pointed Star was refusing our summons, which was a first as far as I recalled. We needed their ships.
Farzad Fellbond snarled. “Neu Bosa can’t pick and choose when to honor our alliance. We must summon House Myrbond at once.”
“And if Myrbond isn’t up to the task, then we’ll send the High Priestess of Rahn to remind those Bosan bastards of their commitment,” Lord Khalbond said.
I bristled whenever anyone spoke of my daughter.
“What are your thoughts, Lord Talin?” the Prince asked. “You’ve been quiet on this matter. I must wonder if our High Priestess would be capable of sending a message to Neu Bosa given her, ah, affiliation with the ambassador’s son.”
There was a darkness in the Prince’s eyes I’d never noticed before the Solend.
Even back in the Academy when Mina and the Prince fought, I’d not noticed it.
In the tournament when they clashed blades.
When he’d condemned her to the temple, and I’d been forced to reveal the truth of her mother.
And when he’d murdered Dustan.
I’d still not seen it. I’d still thought him capable of becoming the man Khaled needed him to be. I’d thought him misguided, yes, but what young male hadn’t brushed shoulders with arrogance?
But then he’d held a sword at my daughter’s throat. And I’d witnessed that darkness from her own eyes in my dreams, through her memories.
I’d splay his guts across the Council chamber now if it didn’t mean endangering Arlent.
“Threatening our allies at the turn of war would not work in our favor, my Prince. If we wish them to honor their commitments to us, then so must we honor our commitments to them.”
Prince Ravel inclined his head in acquiescence. “Then we must summon our ambassador to explain the Three-Pointed Star’s position.”
I rubbed a hand down my face and glanced to the window. Dusk already. The King hadn’t slept, and his exhaustion weighed me down. That was the price of a sorran bond: to feel every gasp of a dying man.
Time. There wasn’t enough of it.
My gaze pulled west, to where my daughter travelled. I’d wanted to spend time with her, to scrape back some of that time lost, but it was all a futile effort. It was falling away, but not for her. Every decision I made held just one purpose. To give her time.
Even if it came from my own.
The choice would come soon. My loyalty, my oaths, my blood debt to a king who gave me everything—honor, family, a home. Or my own flesh and blood.
I knew in my heart which one I’d choose.
And Khaled knew it too, which was why he hadn’t yet released me.
I sighed and set down the scroll. We’d become old men, and our children would define Sandair, whatever future that held.
Mina jerked up and rubbed her eyes. Talin. That was his memory, and a recent one. Why hadn’t he admitted to her that the King lay dying? And why had the bond chosen to show it to her now, when she was hundreds of miles away? His unease in the dream hollowed her stomach. If the King were truly facing the end of his days, then why start a war?
Webs of fresh vine crept across a gray stone wall and dangled from the ceiling. She sat in a dark alcove on a thin cot. Jars of many colors lined a shelf on the wall, and the door was little more than a moth-bitten cloth that failed to keep out the smell of damp moss or the sounds of glass phials clinking together, soft whispers, and restrained coughs of the sick.
Such sounds stirred memories of her childhood. She sat inside the Temple of Gai. But which one?
She stood and swayed on her feet. It came back to her like flashes of sky fire: the forest, the wraiths, the wagon she’d burned, Alistar’s emerald eyes as he’d stared at her naked body when she burned…
“Oh gods.” She sank back onto the bed.
He’d seen her naked.
Someone had dressed her in Green Hand robes. Her saddlebags had been left on a lounger beside Hawk and her mother’s dagger, and she was glad she’d thought to pack a spare pair of boots. She grabbed a jug of water beside her cot and washed away her thirst, and then dressed. Each slight movement sent a spasm of pain in her head—she wouldn’t be lighting any campfires for weeks. Jonan’s scorn burned through the bond, tutting at her from afar.
The curtain rustled and Raj peered inside. “Thank Gai, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”
She rubbed her head. “Alive. Where are we?”
“Grenai.”
Gods. She must have slept through at least a day of travel. “Grenai?”
“A patrol from House Grebond followed the smoke and found us. They insisted on escorting us here. And, um, you’d passed out.”
“Who—who dressed me?”
Raj stepped inside the room carrying a cup. “Me. I told them I’m your personal Green Hand, so they let me bring you here. I, um, I didn’t think you’d mind. Drink this.” He handed her the cup. “It’ll help your head.”
Thank the gods for Raj. It was better to be cared for by him than seen by either Alistar or Garr, gods forbid. She took the cup and grimaced at the murk swirling inside. “Many thanks.”
“Make sure you eat plenty of lamb,” he chided with a soft smile. “Lord Grebond asked me to fetch you when you feel up to it.”
The Guardian of Gai. He was the reason she’d come all this way, to convince him to support the Fire Walkers, or to sneak them out from under him, somehow.
“Take me to him.”
She downed the herbal drink with minimal gagging and grabbed her sword and dagger. Raj led her into the temple’s sanctum. Other curtained alcoves lined the hall, and men and women in green robes passed between them. Green Hands.
The temple here felt as gloomy as the ones in Solus and Khalbad. Dim lamps provided the only light. More vines crept across the ceiling and curved into the main circular sanctum of the temple, which seemed to have been built around an herb garden in the center, filled with all kinds of plants, flowers, and mushrooms. Younger acolytes, apprentices, and orphans gathered beside it. Her legs shook with each step, a side effect of the blood she’d lost, but Raj’s herbal concoction eased the throb in her head.
“Are Ali and Garr safe?” she asked.
“They’re fine. Um, last I saw, they were arguing with each other.”
Of course they were arguing; it’s all they’d done on this entire gods-damn journey.
She followed Raj out of the main temple doors. Before her lay the heart of the emerald forest. Each tree stood the size of a house, and among them were gray buildings decorated in vines or moss as though they were giant stones plucked from the earth. Yellow flowers dotted the vines like stars, and lanterns hung outside each house, casting an eerie golden light—the only indication that these were livable abodes at all.
Leaves covered the sky in a massive canopy of green and allowed only thin and scattered
beams of Rahnlight to filter through. The lack of light echoed the gloom from the Temple of Gai. It was nothing like the open cities of the Solands and the Duslands. Even the market stalls in the center of Grenai needed to be lit.
“This is one of the oldest cities in Sandair, even older than Solus,” Raj said.
She could tell. Everything about this place felt ancient, from the wide trees to the stone huts that had withstood the test of time. They all looked the same to her, though she could identify the other two temples easily enough from the small water fountains on either side of the entrance to the Temple of Lune and the fire braziers outside the Temple of Rahn.
Steps led down into the market and they headed for the biggest of the stone buildings at the far end. It dwarfed the others, and the green banners of House Grebond were draped over its vine-covered walls. She’d never seen so many trees or so much green in her life. It covered everything in an oppressive strangle, and yet, there was nothing malevolent about Gai’s domain. Indeed, the vines and moss didn’t choke the life from this place. Instead, they seemed to thrive in harmony with its people.
“You’ve met the Guardian of Gai, haven’t you, Raj? What’s he like?”
“He’s nice.”
“Nice? Ali said he’s a bastard.”
“Ali’s family doesn’t like him because he taxes the Gaisland Houses based on trade. Richer Houses are forced to pay more so poorer Houses don’t, including House Myrbond. Sounds fair to me.”
“Some Houses forget they’re supposed to serve their people.”
Raj smiled. “Not us.”
There were few guards outside House Grebond’s mansion. No wall or gate separated it from the rest of the city. Most towns were split between the rich homes of the Housemen and the common folk, but not here.
One of the guards relit a lantern on the wall with his own finger. He was a Fire Walker, but wasn’t dressed or marked like one, nor was he banished to the Temple of Rahn. Surely he mustn’t know who she was? But he did, and he welcomed her inside the mansion with a sly wink.
The walls here were painted in bright oranges and red, and countless paintings hung on the walls—portraits, landscapes of the forest, the Tree of Gai—as well as banners and tapestries. Golden-edged furniture filled the room, and every table held jeweled vases stuffed with flowers or odd-looking ceramic models. The effect was extravagant but too garish for her liking.
“I need to get back to the temple and help organize their potions for the soldiers,” Raj said. “That is why I came all this way. And, um, I promised to return some books to the Grenai library.” He gave a sheepish smile and waved at the guard on his way out.
The guard gestured for her to follow and she stepped through a corridor decorated in more gaudy vases. Nerves fluttered in her gut. This wasn’t a social visit. The Guardian of Gai had demanded her attendance and her assistance in rallying the Fire Walkers. Not to mention the mission the Council had imposed on her; she could no longer deny there were rogue Fire Walkers stalking the Emerald Forest.
And Lord Nazim Grebond wasn’t a man to be crossed.
The guard opened a marble door and she stepped into a bright study. A platter of food had been left out on a wooden desk edged in gold. Large windows allowed in light, though vines and flowers draped down the glass. Glass, because sandstorms didn’t reach Gaisland.
The Guardian of Gai rose from his chair. He was a short, clean-shaven Gaislander wearing a green sahn and turban to match. “My lady, it’s so good to finally meet you.” His face was lit with a beaming smile. “I’m glad you chose to heed my summons. Are you hungry?” He waved a hand to his desk. “It’s my pleasure.”
His cheerful nature caught her off guard. “My—my lord, your summons sounded urgent.”
Lord Nazim chuckled. “Oh yes, they always are. It’s the only way one can get things done. Would you like wine or do you prefer tea? It’s honeyed tea and pairs well with the lemon cakes.”
All manner of tiny cakes spread across the platter, from cinnamon buns to lemon sponge and sticky date. Lamb skewers, cheese, figs, grapes, flatbread, and rice-stuffed grape leaves filled the remaining space. A pot of tea sat steaming to the side. Gods, she missed tea.
“The, uh, tea, if it please you.”
Lord Nazim poured two cups. “It’s a great pleasure to finally speak with you. Council meetings and tournaments don’t afford time for idle chatter. But you are my good friend’s daughter.” He squeezed into his chair and let out a contented sigh. “My dear, it is simply delightful to have your company.”
Mina sat and stared at the Guardian of Gai. “Your guardsman is a Fire Walker.”
Lord Nazim took a sip from his cup and eyed her over the rim. “And I was hoping for pleasant conversation.”
“We’re at war, my lord.”
“Indeed, we are.” He placed his cup down. “Yes, some of my men are Fire Walkers. They don’t hide it. Not after your efforts to grant their freedom. I told them they were foolish for being so brazen, but that’s the arrogance of youth. In truth, they possess a bravery I do not.”
Lord Nazim snapped his fingers and a single flame bloomed.
She almost choked on her tea. “Does the King know?”
“He does. And now so do you. I am entrusting you with my secret in exchange for your help.”
“My help?”
He cut himself a thin slice of lemon cake. “Gaisland is my domain. I’ve already ordered the Fire Walkers from the temples of Oramar, Enais, and Myryn to gather here in Grenai and ready themselves for the long march for Solus. Every last one of them. I believe those are Prince Ravel’s orders, correct? To mobilize every Fire Walker for war?”
“Those are his orders.”
“And what are your orders?”
She blinked. “My lord?”
Crumbs caught in his beard and he dabbed them away with a cloth. “Do you intend to march women and children to the Ruby Coast? To the Cold Path? You are the High Priestess of Rahn. Your Fire Walkers will follow you.”
This was a trap. He was trying to root out information for Prince Ravel. But then why admit his blood fire? “I assure you, my lord—”
“Call me Nazim. We’re friends here.”
“How many Fire Walkers do you have, Nazim? I’m told Gaislanders rarely possess blood fire. It would be detrimental to your forests.”
“Yes, so we wish the world to believe. It’s a misconception, isn’t it, that only Duslanders and those from the tribes possess blood fire. I’d long thought this invention was derived to make Duslanders and tribesmen look untrustworthy. Perhaps even savage. Solanders don’t possess blood fire because they are strong and enlightened. And Gaislanders don’t possess blood fire because we are weak and impractical. And yet, how many Fire Walkers in your temple are Solander?”
“Most of them.”
He raised his teacup in toast. “There you are. Truth is, Fire Walkers have always been a part of Gaisland. Their flame is needed to tame the forest and stop it from overrunning the towns, and some trees require heat to seed. But each year, fewer are admitted into our temples. Our scholars believe this is a blessing from Rahn—that he is taking back what was stolen from him and soon blood fire will die out entirely. Though some madmen assume the opposite—that Rahn is displeased with us.”
“And you?”
“My belief? Blood fire is as strong and prevalent as ever before. Our people have just learned to hide their powers better. By relaxing the law, we enticed those who had hidden their blood fire to step out of the shadows. And now we have fresh talent ready for war.”
He’d hit a nerve. During those brief few weeks of freedom, so many secret Fire Walkers had finally felt safe enough to share the truth with their families and communities, only to find themselves marched to the temple after the murder of King Reinhart.
And that was Mina’s fault. She’d tried to help them, but all she’d done was expose and damn them to war.
�
�How many in Gaisland?” she whispered.
Nazim’s dark eyes glittered. “Many. But not so many as you might fear. My people are no fools—they are used to the whims of Solander royalty. I’ve done my best to protect them over the years. In fact, had you come in better times, you’d have found our Temple of Rahn to be a thriving artists’ community. It amuses me that prized Gaisland pottery and jewelry comes from the Fire Walkers here. Who better to craft ceramics or set silver than the hands of those who burn? And the gold from their art feeds back into the temples to give them whatever comforts they need. We hid this from your predecessor, though fortunately, Leila rarely left Solus to check.”
“You—you defied Leila?” After witnessing how House Darabond handled their Fire Walkers, she couldn’t believe anyone would treat them with kindness, least of all the Guardian of Gai.
He took a sip from his tea, hiding a smirk. “‘Defy’ is such a strong word. I daresay my Fire Walkers have had no ill bearing on Sandair. Though now…” He put his tea down. “They are my people. They are family to me. And I fear for them. The other Houses would never admit it, but we all share Fire Walker ancestors. My fathers killed their brethren with blood fire. I’ve seen the memories in my House bond, and I aim to repay that blood debt.”
“The wagon travelling from Nasiri…” They were travelling to Grenai for a better life. “How many have you helped?”
“Not enough, my dear. Never enough. My men examined the wreckage after tending to you and your friends, but we couldn’t see any evidence of sabotage—”
“They were poisoned with Rahn’s Breath.”
“Rahn’s Breath? The same poison which the King ingested?”
“The very same.”
He leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin. “It wasn’t the first wagon to burst into flames. No doubt you’ve heard reports of Fire Walkers attacking travelers or burning trees? I never believed that Fire Walkers were behind these attacks. It was unimaginable to me. You say they were instead the targeted victims… yes, I can imagine that. Rahn’s Breath, you say? A Rhaesbond poison, was it not? Where would one get such a thing?”