by Aimee Moore
“I need your help, it is true,” Karne said.
“How kind of you to rescue me from my grief so I can help you.”
Karne frowned. “Had I known the level of your despair I would have come sooner. How was I to know?”
“Yes, how indeed. I can see how visiting your underlings on a regular basis would be beneath you.”
I finished washing and let the soap float away, leaning back in the hot water on a long exhale.
“Tomorrow I need you to go to the library and assist with translations.”
“For what.”
“The Helegnaur. I’ll consider this one of your payments to me. Along with the services you have rendered to my guests.”
“As you wish.”
“And then you may service the Lady Villiare.”
“Fine,” I said without any tone at all.
Karne sat up. “Damn you Seraphine; care.”
“I did, once.”
Karne glared at me. “I tire of your stubbornness.”
“And I tire of yours. I told you to leave me be. I don’t want to be used or shown false pity. I want to be left alone. How long until this debt on my life has been paid?”
“Is that what is making you so surly?”
No, the man I loved has died. Idiot. “I want my freedom.”
Karne scowled at me. “I have saved your life twice, you have killed one of my staff, stolen from me, spit on my kindness time and again, and then, still, I came at your call and saved you a third time. What price would you put on that, Seraphine?”
“No price at all. If you hope to earn my trust, then you do not put a price on basic decency.”
“You would make a terrible aristocrat,” Karne said.
“And you would make a terrible lover.”
Karne scowled at me. And then he was gone.
Tiredness tugged at my lids, and I climbed out of the pool and let sleep claim me on the floor. I dreamed of Dal.
Chapter 19
Sunshine And Ice
The next day, Yasmil escorted me to the library to help with translations. K’cine, Zraine, and Growl were at tall desks full of books and scrolls. I was clean once more, my hair loose, curling near my bottom in red waves. My spirit was lighter after my outburst yesterday.
“You mind telling me why you didn’t let me know that I was trying to translate a children’s book before?” K’cine asked me.
I frowned, trying to remember the last time I’d seen her, months ago. “What clued you in?” I asked.
K’cine snorted. “Even in my world, when something rhymes with bumble bee, it’s for children.”
“Yes, but she did not stop reading it when she found out,” Zraine said with a wistful smile. “I believe she has a soft spot for children.”
“Haven’t seen a squealing Paxol brat for at least seventy-five years. I don’t plan to break my record,” K’cine said.
I turned to Growl, who was regarding me from behind his spectacles. “What have you found, Growl?” I asked.
“You did not translate anything last time you were here, and so I have had little to go off of. I believe I’m getting closer, though.” He gestured to a stack of books.
I stepped up to his desk platform, tilting my head at the titles. “How many of these can you read?” I asked.
“I can guess at most.”
“This one,” I said, pointing to the top title.
Growl frowned, then spoke in a strange language.
“No, it says ‘Vault Keeper’s Log,’” I said.
Growl pulled the book toward him, writing the symbols down with some Kraw notations. Seeing the written form of Kraw curl across the parchment tugged envy at my chest.
“Tell me the next one,” he said.
I scowled at being given orders, but I did so as he continued to make notes. This process took over an hour, K’cine and Zraine breaking up the monotony with their playful banter. I was patient with Growl. He was Kraw, after all, and intelligence was gifted to him just for being so, but he was not Dal. He didn’t learn my language in twenty minutes.
I tried not to let sadness lacerate my insides at the memory of standing on the ladder with Dal, wishing for a library in our place of peace. My vision blurred anyway as the loss of our dream sunk in my stomach.
“You are distressed,” Growl said.
I shook my head. “I’m alright.”
Growl frowned at me, then stood. “Come, let us find more.” He took the stack of books, far more than I could ever carry at once, and strode deep into the library with me.
When we were out of earshot of the others, he spoke. “Your heart races. You are upset,” Growl said. “I would know if I upset you.”
“Just a memory.”
“Family?”
“Sort of,” I whispered.
Growl watched me for a time as he put books back. “A sadness like yours, deep and profound, is what becomes of Kraw when a mate has died. That can be the only explanation for why the man who put those marks on you is not here.”
“How did you know he put this on me?”
“I can read the markings.”
I sniffed away the tears that threatened, taking a deep breath to clear my head. “Did you have a mate once, Growl?” I asked.
Growl shook his head, setting some of the books by the forgotten weapon rack K’cine had pointed out last time I was here. “I came here on the eve of my first battle, before a clan had yet claimed me. Females of my species are a distant memory.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Why does a man do anything? For a woman,” Growl said with a grin that revealed sharp canines.
“I’m sorry you missed your first battle, but believe me when I say it’s overrated,” I whispered, turning away. “I would not wish the life of a Kraw warrior on anyone.”
“You have seen my people in battle,” Growl said.
“I was one.” I met those brown eyes with my own. “I was the Warlord’s Eyes and Ears,” I said.
Growl’s eyes widened and he dropped the last two books, probing into my gaze. “You do not lie. Of course, power such as yours would ensure easy rule over my people, despite your size.” I had forgotten Kraw could see my gift.
“The Warlord thought I was small, too. He tested me every moment of every day,” I said. “He would toy with me. And when he found my mate, he toyed with both of us, making us inflict misery upon each other. When he tired of that, he would make one of us watch as he inflicted his own brand of agony.”
“The Kraw Warlord is notoriously brutal,” Growl said. “His heart is black, his countenance is death, and he is the thing other species fear when darkness shrouds them.”
“Not anymore,” I said. “I killed him.”
“That cannot be.”
“I sacrificed much for his death,” I growled, rounding on him as Patroma reared her ugly head for the first time in months. “Pain was a kindness to my suffering. Were I not surrounded by these cursed Nialae I would show you that torment.”
Hurt him. Melt his flesh to the floor and watch him writhe under the force of your power.
I fought the force of her, the whisper of blood and burnt flesh stirring my being to readiness. Ready for battle.
Growl watched me for a moment. “Humans were not meant to shoulder Kraw burdens,” he whispered.
I exhaled the strange rush of adrenaline. “Well I did.”
“That makes you the Warlord.”
“I am food for worms, like the rest of us. Can you read the books yet or not?”
Growl moved in close to me. “You are not Kraw. And yet, you have done things I have only read about,” he whispered.
I lifted my lashes to Growl. “They were barbaric.”
“Barbaric or not, I have not yet tasted war, the thing I was made for. I can only hope to do so before death claims me.”
“If you’re not careful, you just might.”
We watched each other for a time, a strange understanding clashing wi
th warring persistence.
“I will help you,” Growl said at last.
“I thought I was helping you,” I said.
“The shard in your shoulder,” he said, drawing my attention to the slight ache of it. “No Warlord should be afflicted by such a curse. A cure must be here.”
I turned my gaze to Growl. “Thank you.”
He gave a nod, and we gathered more books. I realized for the first time in months I was above the cold water of my heavy heart, breathing warm air. And Patroma had brought me there. Part of me was scared at having my grief abate for a short time; did it mean I was letting Dal go? Or just learning to keep the emptiness contained?
We returned to K’cine and Zraine with a handful of tomes in my language. Growl took his time organizing them, checking his notes, and I wandered over to K’cine.
“Another children’s book?” I asked, tilting my head at the colorful pages.
“These things are basically pamphlets on standards of human morals.”
I smiled at the sweet painting of the puppy. “Are there Nialae books like this?”
“Nialae brats usually keep their books for life. Blank pages to be filled and all.”
Karne’s isn’t here, before you ask.
I startled. “If you can talk in people’s heads, why don’t you all the time?” I whispered.
“People get mad, they want to filter their words through their mouths first. My species doesn’t bother with filters. It’s been hard adjusting to Nialae and their secrecy.”
“Secrecy… K’cine, can you tell me about the unrest in Niall?”
K’cine smiled. “Now you’re thinking.” She twirled a stick of charcoal in her hands, twisting to reach for an ugly old tome buried under dust and fresher books. With a huff, she thumped it on the table in front of us and blew the dust into a swirling cloud.
I coughed, waving my hand in front of myself. When the dust cleared, I looked at the title. Except I couldn’t read the slashing script that was more maze than language.
“It must take you eons to understand all of this,” I said.
K’cine opened the book. “Nah, I can read and write thirty-seven languages fluently. Some are pretty hard, but most, thankfully, seem to adhere to a rhythm, at least. Let’s see here. Niall’s unrest is a subject of contention between many houses, but here.” K’cine flipped the old book to a few pages in, showing a painting of a tall, dark-skinned man, standing on a blue and silver orb. The sun was bathing the man in gold.
K’cine began talking with an impatient air. “So Niall has two sides to it, it’s why you see light skinned Nialae and dark skinned ones. First there is the king. He’s essentially older than star dust. This book says eons ago when the light and the dark came together in a cataclysmic explosion to create life, the king was born.
“He, a creature of light, was alone for eons more until he discovered how to draw upon his world’s power to create lesser beings in his image. Then he became ruler of all things sun-touched. The fruit, the animals, the people who lived in the day, you name it. If it bakes in the sun then it’s his domain; Sun Court. But he couldn’t create beings of equal power, and so he grew lonely once more.”
“How sad,” I said.
“Mostly. Turns out the cataclysm of light and dark also created the queen, a creature of night who had yet to meet the king because she dwelled in the night and he in the day. Stupid, if you ask me, but that’s the lore for you. According to this book, when she did finally grow bored of the darkness and surfaced into the sunshine, the king found her, and then their great love affair humbled even the stars themselves with their dedication and sappiness.”
“Tanebrael,” I whispered.
“Yes, good.” K’cine flipped the page. This image was of a Nialae created with pigment so white that the paper itself was dingy in comparison. Her hair was ivory with silver streaks in it, and her powerful profile reached up to the moon, as if wanting to catch it.
“The king is the sun, and Tanebrael is the moon. All things pale, cold, and mysterious, those are her realm. The text states that for thousands of years the two of them tangled as lovers between the night and day of Niall, and for thousands of years they crafted lessers of their respective courts until they grew bored and the courts could reproduce on their own.”
“So to shorten this whole thing considerably,” K’cine said, “we’ll just point out the fact that no matter which world you reside in, the moon cannot shine without the sun, and the queen wanted her independence from her king. Their love soured when he became a bit too controlling for her and he suspected she was building an empire to overthrow him behind his back.
“There was a great clash between them, their palace was torn asunder, their errant spoiled brat was caught in the middle for a time, and the bruised and angry queen vowed to overthrow the king and show him who the true ruler of Niall really is. You can guess how he responded to that.”
“He punished her,” I said, tracing my fingers over the painting of Tanebrael.
“Banished her. She vows to start her own world, picks up everyone who has a trace of moon in their blood, and I mean everyone, her staff, her persistent kid, her court officials, all of them; and drops them all in a world that serves her needs.”
I let off a sigh of dismay. “Here, because of the leylines.”
“There are a lot of worlds out there, but your world is special to a queen who’s hungry for the power to start her race anew. And, even better, your world has Gifted in it, people who carry traces of that vast power in their blood, just sauntering around on the surface, ready to be steered in any direction she chooses.”
“I suppose our own free will is of no matter to her,” I said in a flat tone, scowling at the etching of the queen who would use us as pawns.
K’cine waved away my irritation. “Your world or mine, it doesn’t matter where, you can’t face the Nialae if you don’t first acknowledge that they are superior. There’s no way around it.”
I let my gaze travel over the book as a whisper of an idea blossomed in my mind. A direction steered by anger. All at once, my existence was no longer an aimless shot into the darkness of despair. The stirrings of a plan began to formulate in my mind.
Purpose.
“What other name was given for the Helegnaur?” Growl asked from his desk, interrupting my thoughts.
I placed a hand on K’cine’s shoulder with a smile, then went to join Growl. “Um… The Polar Construct.”
He gave a nod. “Here. And here.” He laid out two books, open to pages detailing the Helegnaur.
“Goodness, there it is. Where did these books come from?” I asked, lifting their covers.
Growl shrugged. “He does not tell us. But look here. The artifact is said to be held in the Arctic Temple of the Water Lords.”
Memory of the exploding vault crashed through my mind. That was the last thing I learned before I looked into Dal’s eyes for the final time.
“Seraphine?”
I blinked, taking a shuddering breath. “Yes. Sorry. I’ve heard this before, but I don’t know where that temple lies.”
Zraine came and leaned on our desk with a dreamy smile. “Ah, but what is research without a map.” He turned to a rickety table by the door and gestured with one hand. Half of the maps fell to the floor as one slid out from beneath them, flowing toward us.
“That’s incredible,” I breathed.
“I would hope, I gave up every memory I had for it.”
“Memory?” I asked.
“Ah, yes, Karne’s people have a way with memory; the taking and restoring. When my debt is worked off, I’ll truly be one of a kind.”
“You were already one of a kind,” Growl said, looking over his glasses at the map that was now landing on our desk.
I glanced at K’cine, wondering what she gave up.
“Here,” Growl said, drawing my attention to his large hand on a map of my continent. It was a sight to behold, as I’d seen it mapped out so few ti
mes before. A mountainous region, just west of the middle and far north, contained small etchings of little huts and what looked to be a temple.
“Rainholdt,” I murmured, running my finger over the name.
“Are you familiar?” Growl asked, looking up at me.
I gave a slow shake of my head. “No, I’ve never even heard of it. But look, Lambston should be here, southwest of these mountains I think.” I placed my finger where I thought my village was.
Growl placed his hand over mine, dragging my finger further north, jutting up against a long blue line. “We are here,” he murmured.
“We,” I whispered, pulling my hand back.
Zraine was smiling at me. “She still thinks herself elsewhere.”
“She doesn’t trust Karne,” K’cine said from her desk.
“And why not?” Came Karne’s voice from the doorway. All of us looked up.
“Mostly because you’re a snake,” I said to Karne.
Zraine’s eyebrows shot up as he glanced past me at K’cine.
“As pleasurable as it would be to spend the day trading insults with my staff, a different matter calls my attention.”
“Splendid,” I muttered, glancing at the map. Elanthia was so very far away in the bottom right corner. I searched for the university.
“I came to assist with translations,” Karne said, striding toward us and mounting the short stairs. “Word has it others know about the Helegnaur, so we must hurry this along.”
I shrugged. “We found it already.” I pointed to Rainholdt.
Karne’s gaze rested on me for a moment, then turned to the map. “Very well, let’s go.”
I blinked. “Now? But, shouldn’t we pack?”
Karne waved his hand in irritation. “Nonsense,” he said, reaching for my wrists.
“Just like that?” I asked, glancing around the room as Karne pulled me closer. Revulsion skittered up my spine at the touch of another. I was surprised to feel it in place of the numbness I had become so familiar with. Even revulsion was something.
“You know you have to put your hands on me, too,” he murmured.
I huffed an angry sigh and shoved at Karne’s chest, and then the world sucked away.