by Sara Kincaid
She followed the swirls of thick carpeting to the upper quarters of the palace, fitting herself into the streams of people preparing for Opher’s celebration. She had three days to convince the Burgans to lend their powers to them and help send Opher’s adventurous general off across the abyss into the Northlands. “Surely the Northlanders have stolen our spark,” he’d raved to her one night last winter. Personally, Thea thought such theories were preposterous.
A servant carrying a wide silver platter bumped into her and offered an embarrassed “Excuse me, ma’am” as he bustled past, head bowed. Thea whirled, already irritated and ready to give the boy a severe tongue-lashing. But the clumsy servant was saved the rebuke as General Rex Saladin strode out from the Regent’s conference room, adjacent to his receiving hall and the great hall with the stained glass windows.
Rex smiled at her from a distance, shutting the door behind him before crossing to meet her. Even within the mountain, the general wore a great sword strapped to his hip and intricately braided mail with red and silver intertwined over his chest in the pattern of a bear paw. “Good afternoon, Thea. How are the prisoners?” He spoke the word prisoners with an ironic tone and a quirk of the corners of his mouth.
Thea scoffed, narrowing her eyes at the general. He was a tall man, reminding Thea of a peacock. He walked with grace, chiseled chest held forward. With his perfectly sculpted nose and aqua eyes, the general was often the talk of the court. “I’m going to greet them right now.”
“Ah but it is nearly mid-afternoon already! How have you been occupying yourself today?” Since the Regent’s fearful speech months prior, there had been little faith in the spark and much more attention paid to Vitus and Delia and the weapons they encouraged their Mystics to engineer a century ago. At the gentle ribbing, the general’s thin lips spread into an ostentatious smile.
“Studying the spark, per usual, General. The captain and the lady only suggest one path toward salvation. But, there are many intricacies to be found in Nia’s ancient texts which far outweigh in value and pre-date the histories of Vitus Croy and Delia Skytte.” The two squared off silently. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”
Thea left in a swirl of silver silk, continuing across the great hall to the quarters where the Burgans were housed. She knocked gently on the door before entering. “Good afternoon, friends. I trust you’ve received all you need?” The four Mystics merely stared at her, jaws hung open. She smiled winningly, her features round and rosy against the harsh silver of her hair and her clothing. “Regent Opher is truly the most endearing host. But we have matters to attend to as well.”
The young one, Eli, greeted her as she entered, standing tall and lanky though clean and well clothed. “Good afternoon, Thea. Though, I’m afraid I have poor news to share with you.”
“Our answer is still the same as yesterday,” Moriyo interjected, arms crossed before him and his tunic stained. He’d refused to wear any of the clothing offered to him. Given that the Regent had kidnapped them, Thea couldn’t really blame him for his small rebellion.
Thea folded herself into a nearby chair, her round hips squeezing between the narrow armrests. She rested her hand under her chin and leaned forward, legs crossed. “I’m so sorry to hear that. The Regent and all of Kaldar, all of Mantinea, really, is depending on your power to help us.”
“And what of your power?” Zaid sipped casually, a glass of mint water in his hand.
“Sadly I have not enough power to do as the Regent requests on my own. Surely together we would have the power needed to call forth a great spark to power the journey.”
“To send people across the gulf is madness.” Eira pulled a blanket around her shoulders. “No one knows how wide nor how deep it goes. And what if they cannot return?”
“Not to mention we haven’t had contact with the Northlands in more than century. How would they react? Friendly? Hostile? Nia only knows.” Zaid shrugged.
“The power required to do as Opher requests could possibly destroy what’s left of our connection to the spark.” Moriyo’s mouth set in a firm line. Moriyo and the other Mystics feared that the amount of strength required to pull a spark large enough to gain the lift required to travel across the gulf may finish what Delia and Vitus started a century ago, leaving them completely severed from the sacred spark for the rest of time.
Thea sat back in her chair with a sigh and rubbed absently at her shoulder. Regent Opher was going to be livid. She swallowed a wave of panic. “So it’s not that you can’t do it. But that you won’t.”
“It is not in our best interest, the people of Mantinea, or the people you would send on this journey. Our Regent would never send the Aviators on such a trip. There are too many unknowns.” Moriyo glared openly at her now and it was Thea who looked away first, her eye catching the heavy tapestry depicting Vitus Croy and his elegant ship, the Ursa M.
Chapter Twenty-three
Rina
The building was simple in its design, nothing like the ornate pillars one would find walking the path of the Shrine of a Thousand Doorways. Straight lines and skinny windows glared at them like narrowed eyes. As they drew closer, a series of smooth columns came into view on either side of the path leading up to the building. Each pillar was covered with scratchy runes, etched with painstaking purpose into the stone. No two runes looked the same.
The path curled around and Rina realized that they had been looking at the structure from the side. The building was actually constructed into the wall of the mountain itself with some areas added on with the same stone. Rina kept her mouth closed, but her eyes feasted on the runes that reminded her of the silvery marks on Eli’s body, the ones he’d carved into his skin to increase his power and tap further into the dying source of the spark.
Shadows were lengthening as they walked up to the main door bearing iron nail heads that measured the length of Rina’s thumb. There were no windows on the main level and though the plants and pathway appeared well kept, they’d seen little other evidence of human activity. “Do you think anyone’s home?” Jarem asked.
“Surely someone is here. You don’t go off and leave a building like this unguarded.” Eldon rapped his knuckles against the solid doorframe and winced. “Not sure anyone will hear that.”
Suddenly, a bald-headed man with fair skin peeked over the wall. His face was framed by a white hood. “What business do you have here?” His voice was hoarse and he coughed heavily, his hood falling back against his shoulders. His face was round and heavy jowls weighed down his jaw and a sheen of sweat covered his bald head.
Rina clapped her fist against her chest. “Ho there! May the spark return.”
The man scratched his head, noting her uniform. “An Aviator? No one from Burga knows of our existence.”
“Good evening! I am Rina, a member of the Burgan Aviators. We learned of your brotherhood from Zhara, sister of our former Regent, Solon Reis. We’ve come to seek your assistance.”
“Former Regent?”
“Yes. Solon passed away more than three years ago.”
“Who rules Burga now?”
“Surely your contacts from Antel, Novo and Rosson have kept you updated on these things? The new Regent is Solon’s niece, Arayna.”
The bald man chewed on his lip, considering her words. “Lay your weapons on the ground in front of you. All of you.” His voice was hoarse, but commanding.
Eldon glanced at Rina, his hand straying to the sword at his belt. “Do it,” she ordered, unsheathing her stolen sword and dropping it at her feet. Her companions followed suit, pulling knives from their boots and the weapons they’d confiscated from their Kaldarian enemies and laid them in the dirt. It was an impressive array of weapons, considering they’d begun their journey rather under-armed. Halay jumped down from the silvery horse and placed Rina’s bow beside the other weapons, glancing up at the parapet of the strange
mountain dwelling. She put her hand against the neck of her horse, waiting.
A moment later, the gates opened, revolving on bolts that creaked with age. The horse started at the noise and Halay shushed him gently until he stood still. Three men and a woman, all dressed in gleaming white tunics, stood in the open doorway. The Aviators saluted their hosts and spoke in unison. “May the spark return.”
The brotherhood nodded their approval and returned the greeting. The woman stepped forward, her hair tied back in a smooth knot. Her face was plain and she had a wide nose with friendly, deep-set eyes. “Welcome, Aviators of Burga. Please enter our domain in peace.” She gestured with a small hand for them to step forward, leaving their weapons on the ground behind them. Eldon glanced back anxiously at his sword and knife. “Your weapons will be returned to you upon your departure.” She smiled around the words as she spoke.
Inside the structure, surrounded by the ancient stone of the mountain, the temperature dropped considerably. The walls were filled with sconces and some of the candles were lit to allow enough light within the building for the visitors to see the etched patterns on the walls, all runes that seemed similar to the ones that Eli had carved into his own flesh. Rina recalled running her fingers over those runes, tracing the swirling patterns on his body. An ache filled her as she thought of the many days they’d been separated and his unknown fate. Would she find him? What were the Kaldarians doing with him and the other Mystics?
Their hosts followed them into the hollowed mountainside and closed the door behind them. The sound of the lock falling into place echoed around the cavernous room. “I am Sister Rowan. Please rest and bathe if you so choose. Brother Ewan will take you to your rooms. Once you’ve recovered, we shall eat and discuss why you’ve come here. Your need must be very great given that you braved the howling trail to get to us.” Shadows danced along her face as the candles flickered.
“Thank you, Sister.”
Ewan stood with slouched shoulders and a beard that curled down to his knees. His steps were shaky, but his eyes bright as he took in the travelers. “Follow me, chaps. We haven’t had visitors for some time. This is a welcome distraction, indeed!” The old brother continued to mutter to himself as he shuffled down the hallway and up a set of stairs carved from the mountain rock.
They followed Ewan closely. At the top of the staircase, the hallway opened up revealing a series of doors. Most were closed to the draft, but Halay peeked through a cracked door as they passed, tapping Rina on the arm and stopping to stare. In the room lay four woman, swathed in gray fabric. Their eyes were closed and they appeared to be sleeping. Beside each one a member of the brotherhood sat reading or tending to them. Halay jumped as the door closed gently in front of them.
“Nothing to see in there, I’m afraid. Just a sickbay.” He motioned for them to follow him and he continued down the hallway.
“You care for civilians here?” Halay asked.
“Sometimes. In certain situations.”
“What’s wrong with them?” Either Ewan didn’t hear her question or he chose not to answer it. Halay glanced back at the closed door before hurrying to catch up with the others.
Another small staircase took them up to a landing that overlooked the main entry hall. From the third floor, Rina could see that the brotherhood had somehow hollowed out the majority of the mountain. If she’d had her wings, she could have flown up to the top of the mountain from the inside. “You’re welcome to use these two rooms.” Ewan gestured to the only two doors on the landing. “The rooms are well stocked, but if there’s anything you need, please let me know. Someone will come find you when it’s time for the evening meal to show you the way to the kitchens. May the spark return.”
Alone in their room, Rina turned the lock and sat down on the bed. The plush mattress gave comfortably against her weight. She eyed her sister across the room. Halay had unwound her braid and poured a pitcher of water into the ewer, eager to scrub her face. “What do you think of this place?”
Halay’s voice was muffled by the towel as she dried her face. “It’s empty. There’s no one in the hallways except the members who met us at the door and the few tucked into that sick room. I thought that a brotherhood would have more brothers.” She shrugged and folded the towel before laying it back on the table.
“It’s certainly designed to house many more. Perhaps the brotherhood is dying just like the spark?” The sisters exchanged glances. Mantinea was learning to function without the spark and the amenities it provided. But, if Burga served as an example, very few in Mantinea were ready to give it up altogether. Therefore, the brotherhood, whatever function they served, was still needed.
Their quarters were not large, but well furnished and decorated. The stark rock floors were covered with handmade carpets and each bed frame was carved from bamboo. Metallic runes were sewn in an intricate tapestry nailed to the rock walls. Rina absently reached for the small rune Eli had carved into her skin so many months ago. She’d never seen the Mystics use runes before him, but the brotherhood seemed to be tied greatly to them.
Rina washed and dressed in one of the soft white tunics left for them in a nearby cupboard and had just stretched out on one of the beds when a knock came upon the door. “Rina?” Jarem’s tenor voice rang through the thick door and Halay hurried to unlock the door. Jarem, too, was dressed in one of the brotherhood’s tunics. His hair was wet and combed back from his forehead. Without any hint of his spikes, he looked older and the white ends of his hair made it look as if they had been dipped in snow. “Oh, hello,” he said when Halay opened the door. She stepped aside to allow him to enter.
“Where’s Eldon?” Rina asked, stretching her injured shoulder which had all but healed but was stiff from overuse.
“Washing up. Say, some place this is, huh?”
Rina nodded. “Indeed.”
“How’d they do it?”
“Carve out the mountain, you mean?” Jarem answered her question with a nod. “Things were different before the Habibi War. The spark was abundant. I’m sure one of the brothers or sisters could tell us.”
Jarem absorbed her words, his eyes scanning the sleek walls around them. “Hard to believe we’re inside a mountain, isn’t it?” He reached out and ran his hand over some of the carvings. “What’s the plan?”
“We get my wings repaired and see if they have others in their stores and we get out. We’re losing time. Who knows what Opher’s doing with Eli and the others.”
“They’ve grown too bold for their own good if you ask me,” Eldon grumbled, pushing the door open and striding into the room. He’d trimmed his beard back to a layer of scruff and reluctantly donned the white garb left for them by the brotherhood. “Someone ought to do something about that.”
“Agreed. But, that’s not up to us. We have to hope that the council in Delos will see fit to punish them for their actions. Stay the course.”
A short time later, a gentle knock came upon the door and one of the brothers who had greeted them upon their arrival stood respectfully at the threshold. “Good evening. I’m Brother Darrius. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you down for dinner.” Darrius was lean and tall and his skin was the color of the dusty earth. His hands were folded into the extra fabric of his tunic. He led them back down the way they’d come, his feet shuffling in his cloth shoes with every step.
Back in the main entry hall, Rina and her companions gazed upward, tracing the lights as far as they could into the black dome above them. Darrius led them down a narrow stairwell that opened up into a vast kitchen. Fires crackled in massive pits and sconces lined the walls around the room. Sister Rowan stood waiting for them beside a large table set for five.
“Good evening.” She smiled, her white teeth showing in the glow of the spark lamps. “We’re so pleased to have visitors. I hope you like what Brother Sloan and Sister Ama have prepared for us tonight. We eat hu
mbly, but live well. May the spark return.”
Rina and her companions took seats around Rowan. Their plates were filled with root vegetables like carrots and turnips and a thick bread. They each echoed the sister’s words. “May the spark return.”
Once everyone had eaten their fill, Rina turned to their host. “Sister Rowan, we are grateful for your hospitality. I hope you will indulge my request for a favor.”
“Please, Aviator, ask and we shall see if I can fulfill your request.” She folded her arms into her tunic and waited, a slight sheen on her face catching in the spark light.
“I don’t know what news you receive from the city-states, but our Mystics have been kidnapped.” Rina paused as a look of surprise that crossed Rowan’s face. “We know that it was the Kaldarians. Regent Arayna has sent us out to rescue them. The trouble is, the Kaldarian palace sits on a cliff face and is mostly inaccessible. My fellow Aviators were forced to leave Burga without their wings and mine have been damaged. We’ve only just learned about the Brotherhood and know little of your work, but we hope that you can assist us in this and perhaps even supply my companions with wings, should that be in your power?”
Brother Sloan had taken a plate and sat at the edge of the group, listening. “Opher oversteps, no matter-.”
Sister Rowan raised her hand, silencing him. “Brother Sloan. You forget your place. What the Regents do is not for us to say.” Rina exchanged glances with Eldon but remained quiet as Sister Rowan continued. “The brotherhood does not condone violence among the city-states. Surely you understand.”
“Of course. We are one people.”
“And yet you fight,” she baited, her fingers curling around a goblet of dark wine.
“The Kaldarians are our brothers and sisters, just like all other people of Mantinea.”
“Aren’t those Kaldarian weapons we found in your stash? Don’t look too surprised, young man,” she replied, answering Jarem’s raised eyebrows. “We recognize the design and the emblem of our Kaldarian brothers.”