Glad that he had distracted the sandwreth queen from her fascination with Penda and her baby, Adan said, “I will send a message to my brother right away. I, too, want him to talk with you.”
9
RIDING with Elliel and Thon on his mission to Suderra, King Kollanan felt safe in their company, but he knew that any feeling of security was a lie. Unexpected threats had risen out of history like steam from a volcanic vent. Meeting with Adan about the wreth threat was vital, but he was also uneasy about being gone for long from Fellstaff.
Until recently, even a king had been confident traveling alone. Sometimes he had taken Lasis along with him, but he liked to be by himself, at peace. He no longer found peace in simple everyday things, though, as he had before the frostwreths attacked Lake Bakal.
Elliel looked resplendent in her black Brava garb, confident now that she had reclaimed her memories. Her rich cinnamon hair was cropped short in a warrior’s cut, and she seemed happy with the love she and Thon shared. Handsome and powerful, the dark wreth regarded the world around him with curiosity, surprised by the smallest things. Thon was eager to see the southern kingdom, to walk in the ancient streets of Bannriya, and to meet King Adan.
Kollanan’s warhorse abruptly sidled back and forth, snorting, as if he sensed a predator. Elliel was on her guard, touching her sword.
Suddenly, Thon gasped in pain. Barely managing to halt his horse, he stumbled out of the saddle and took two staggering steps. Elliel jumped down and ran toward him. “What is it?”
The words were torn out of his mouth. “I feel it … breaking!”
The forest shook with silent thunder, as though from some great blast underground. The pines around them hissed and rushed together as if shaken by some giant hand. Thick boughs broke and crashed down from the tall silver pines.
The dirt road split, and loose brown earth tumbled into the widening fissure. Kollanan fought to control his horse Storm. Could the dragon be stirring?
Elliel held Thon’s shoulders as he writhed in agony. His face was tight, his eyes squeezed shut.
The ground continued to rattle and shake. Gradually, the deep shocks stopped. The world became quiet again, though it still seemed to throb with exhaustion.
Dismounting, Koll hurried over to Elliel, who knelt beside Thon with great concern. The wreth man lay sprawled on his back, staring up in confusion. The inner pain had wrung him out. “I was being shaken and torn apart, just like the world was.” He pushed himself up to a sitting position. “There is something deep inside the land and deep inside me … something dangerous.”
Elliel helped Thon to his feet, brushing off his tunic and silver leggings. She looked intently at him. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I am sure of nothing, and I have no answers.” Thon fashioned an odd smile. “That is why every day is filled with discoveries. The scholar girl taught me that.” He ran his hands through his long dark hair. “Let us hope future discoveries are less painful.”
He was shaky as he climbed into his saddle, grasping the reins like a lifeline. He looked down at the ground. “This may be a sensitive place that feels the vibrations of Ossus. Perhaps I will be safer once we are far away.”
The three of them pressed on well into twilight until they were finally forced to camp. They chose a spot by a narrow stream, and Elliel gathered enough deadwood for the fire to last the night. After she stacked the dry branches, Thon ignited the fire with a tentative touch of magic. Soon water boiled in a cookpot filled with beans and root vegetables. Elliel laid out a blanket to share with Thon, though they would take turns at watch. The king found a comfortable place across the fire from her. He sat against a rock, pulling his knees up. To an outsider, the scene might have looked idyllic, but they remained tense.
Thon hunkered down beside Kollanan, pressed his palm against the dirt. He closed his eyes, let out a long breath, and nodded. “Solid and stable. There is no cause for worry.”
Koll raised an eyebrow. “A king who does not worry is not protecting his people.”
“Perhaps protecting is my job too,” Thon said. “Maybe I am here to hold the world together while everything else tears it apart.”
Kollanan leaned against the boulder, feeling the rough stone against his shoulder. “I saw what you did at Lake Bakal. In the coming battles, I intend to rely on you, though I do not know what you are.”
“I am a mystery to myself as well, King Kollanan,” Thon said with a shrug. “When I find the answer, I hope we will all be satisfied.”
“About his power,” Elliel said. “There’s also a gentleness in him to counteract it.” She brought them each a bowl from the pot and sat down. “Thon reminds me of a fine blade. One should admire its beauty but beware of its edge.”
“At least I know what a blade is,” Koll said. “Do we even know whether you are a wreth, Thon? You look like one, but I am no expert.” He had seen only the frostwreths at Lake Bakal.
“There are similarities,” Thon admitted. He held out his hand, inspected it, tugged at his dark locks. “And if so, what sort of wreth am I? Obviously not a frostwreth, and I do not believe I am similar to sandwreths either. The two lines descended from Raan and Suth. I do not see how I belong to either of them.”
“Another race perhaps?” Elliel said. “I know little about wreth history, but what if Kur created another line of people, people who look like you?”
Thon raised his eyebrows.
“You are an anomaly,” Kollanan said. “A useful one.”
“A powerful one,” Elliel said.
“Then how and why was I sealed inside a mountain with my memories erased, like some unhatched creature in a cocoon? Who am I, and what Am I meant to do?” He frowned, deep in thought. “Did other wreths turn against me?” He touched the strange tattoo on his face. “And why strip me of all my memories? Were they that afraid of me?”
Kollanan said, “Your powers alone could give people reason to fear.”
“They frighten me, too,” Elliel said. “Even though I know you are no threat to us.” She reached out to touch the markings on his face. “I didn’t know my identity either until you brought my memories back.” Finishing her meal, she set the bowl on the ground and removed the golden ramer band from its place at her hip. In wonder, she held it up to the firelight. “You made me a Brava again, helped me find the power in my own blood.”
She squeezed the cuff around her right wrist until the metal fangs bit into her veins. Blood trickled down the pale skin of her arm, providing the catalyst to ignite her ramer. Bright flames encircled the cuff and covered her hand. When Elliel concentrated, she extended the fire and raised the slender bladelike torch high in the forest clearing. “I am a Brava again!” She lowered her voice, spoke to herself. “And I will never forget what Lord Cade and Utho did to me.”
Intent on the ramer, Thon reached toward the blazing blade. He twitched his fingers, twirled them, and the fire changed color from orange to yellow to a pure white, which then dropped down to a deeper blue, then violet before cycling to a dark crimson. Elliel shuddered with pleasure as his wild magic surged through her.
When Thon released his invisible grip, Elliel’s shoulders slumped, and she let the ramer flame sputter out. She removed the red-stained golden cuff, and the blood flow at her wrist stopped.
“Your ramer is interesting,” Thon said to her. “I wonder if Kur envisioned such things when he created the wreths.”
Kollanan said in a gruff voice, “Their god has nothing to do with us.”
“If Kur created the world, you are still part of it,” Thon said. “Although according to the story, Kur vanished long before wreths created humans. He has not seen anything of the world in a very long time. He is waiting for the wreths to complete the task he gave them.”
For most of his life, Kollanan had dismissed the legends of Ossus sleeping beneath the Dragonspine Mountains. Up until a few months ago, he’d considered the wreths themselves little more than legend.…
“The world will be made perfect—if we can believe wreth history,” Thon said. “I do not know if the world is imperfect. I have seen nothing of it … in a very long time.”
“That’s what you just said about Kur.” Elliel turned, and her voice became tentative. “Could there be some connection?”
Thon was intrigued. “A connection between me and Kur?”
“Think about it. Kur created wreths in his own image, so therefore their god would look pretty much like a wreth. A perfect wreth. That’s what you look like.” Elliel’s voice rose with excitement. “You must admit, you have incredible and unexplained powers.”
Kollanan blinked when he realized what the Brava woman was suggesting.
Thon’s brows were raised in a quizzical look not understanding, until Elliel said, “What if you are Kur?”
Thon gave a surprised laugh. Then a sober look came over him and he considered for a long moment. “My memories end at about the same time. It is not an … impossible idea.”
“But if you were a god, why would wreths subdue you and seal you inside the mountains?” Koll asked. “Could they truly have been so afraid that they considered you a threat?”
“Whether you’re Kur or not, how could they do it?” Elliel pressed.
Thon pursed his lips as he followed another thought. He ran his fingertips along the tattoo. “What if I allowed them to do it for some reason?” His brow furrowed. “Or what if I did it myself?”
10
“I WANT to depart as soon as possible, Utho,” said Mandan, leaning forward on a cushioned chair in his royal suite. “It’s time the people see me as their new konag.”
The Brava watched him, sure that the young man’s eagerness would wane during the hardships of travel. A private dinner had been set out for them, but Utho had no interest in the food. The large fire in the hearth made the room too hot for his taste.
Mandan’s eyes took on an avid expression. “And when our procession reaches Lord Cade’s holding, I wish to see the Isharan slaves and witness the defeat in their eyes.”
As he ate sliced venison with blackberry sauce, the young man turned his attention to the maps that covered one entire wall of his chamber. He would spend hours pondering the boundaries of Osterra, Suderra, and Norterra. During his studies as prince, he had become interested in geography. He knew where every holding ended, could name all twenty-one counties that served Osterra, the fifteen counties in Suderra, and the eight large counties in Norterra. Mandan could even identify most of the vassal lords by name, though he had little personal relationship with any of them.
Most of his knowledge had come from books and tutors, since Mandan had not seen much of the Commonwealth. Utho was pleasantly surprised by the young man’s idea. “I, too, should inspect Cade’s prison camp, my konag. It will be a long ride, many days on the road. We will try to find inns or holding houses along the way, though we will be prepared to camp.”
“I studied the route.” Forgetting about his dinner, Mandan walked to the lavishly detailed maps on the wall. “There are places in Osterra I want to see, vassal lords to meet along the way.” His gaze had turned steely, and his mind had gone from panic to an irrevocable focus on revenge. “I intend to take my father with me.”
Utho was startled. “What do you mean?”
“Konag Conndur was cut into pieces, which have been preserved. The entire Commonwealth must understand the barbarity of our enemy. What better demonstration than to dispatch processions throughout the three kingdoms so the people can behold the proof of what the Isharans did to our beloved ruler.”
Utho remembered exactly what had been done to Conndur’s body. After all, he had staged the scene to generate maximum horror. He had cut off the konag’s hands, gouged out his eyes, cut out the heart and placed it on the man’s groin. He had splashed blood on the walls of the chamber to imply the greatest violence, though in his only spark of mercy, he had at least killed Conndur first.
Utho nodded slowly as he realized that such a procession would continue to enrage every person in the Commonwealth. “It is a good plan, Mandan.”
The young konag beamed at the praise. “We will take my father’s heart with us and send the other pieces elsewhere.”
* * *
The procession departed three days later with supply wagons, tents, comfortable camp beds. With the banner-bearers and escort in the lead, Utho rode alongside Mandan of the Colors. His black Brava garb was in sharp contrast to the young konag’s multicolored cape, jerkin, and leggings. Behind them walked a pure white horse, perfectly groomed, bearing the colors of Conndur the Brave. Bound to the saddle was a gilded chest, evident and ominous for all to see.
The people came out to cheer the konag each time the procession arrived in a town, but as news spread of the grim trophy, the crowds grew more somber. Murmuring with respect, the people recounted tales of Conndur’s exploits, when he and his brother had led Commonwealth armies in Ishara thirty years ago.
On the second day the procession arrived in the county of Lord Goran, who came out to greet them with a retinue of personal guards. Goran had prepared fine quarters for the konag in his holding house above the river, and Utho did not doubt that Goran, who was a petty man, would assume the meeting bestowed great importance on him.
Looking at the crowd, the Brava saw some people wearing drab clothes and haunted looks. Many refugees from the devastated mining town of Scrabbleton had resettled here after the eruption of Mount Vada, but had not yet rebuilt a normal life.
Lord Goran had a high forehead, a cleft chin, and dark lips that gave him a pouting look. Standing in front of the procession, Goran turned his attention to the gilded box on the white horse’s saddle. He fought to maintain an expression of respect.
After dismounting, Mandan walked up to the small chest. “You want to see my father’s heart.” He stroked the horse’s mane. “Let me show you what the Isharans did.”
Goran bent closer as the young konag undid the metal hasp and raised the lid to reveal a wrapped lump in folds of blue velvet. Mandan spoke in a husky voice. “They cut it out of my father’s chest. They pried apart the ribs and reached in with their bare hands to rip out his heart. Then they shoved it between his legs, still leaking blood.”
Goran’s face went as pale as fresh cheese. “I … I’m sorry, Sire.”
Utho watched, pleased by Mandan’s performance. He had coached the young man, showing him how to add passion to this speech. The konag’s voice rose so he could address all of the people, not just the sallow-faced lord. As he described the events on Fulcor Island, he relived his nightmares and gave the listeners nightmares as well.
In the weeks since that night, Utho had seen a real change in the young man. As prince, Mandan had been shy and weak, bored and impatient with his duties, but now vengeance made him strong.
One man with thick arms and broad shoulders hung his head. “First Scrabbleton is destroyed, and now this terrible news! The world is full of evil and pain. What are we to do?”
Unpracticed, Mandan fumbled for words, and Utho interjected in a gruff voice. “You can help. You can be more than refugees. There is a war coming, and we are building our army.” He looked at the man’s obvious strength. “A person who spent his life breaking rock could be a great fighter. We’ll train you to be a warrior.” He raised his voice to the crowd. “Anyone who wishes to be part of the Commonwealth army is welcome.”
Standing beside the open box, Mandan looked at Lord Goran’s escort soldiers. “You already have some fighters that you will give to us.”
The sallow lord balked. “So many sacrifices, so much pain and suffering! The Isharan animals must pay for their heinous crime, but we are also in danger here in Osterra.” He flicked a glance at Utho. “My konag, you have this powerful man next to you, but I’ve lost my bonded Brava. Klea was my protector, but she selflessly joined the expedition to Fulcor Island, and she never returned to me.”
“Klea has other duties now,” Utho
said, his voice hard. “She remains on Fulcor as the new watchman commanding the troops there. The Isharan animals are sure to come back. That is where she belongs.”
“But she’s bonded to me!” Goran said. “What am I to do without protection?” Beside him, his armed soldiers flinched, offended by the comment.
Utho had no sympathy for the man. Bravas could swear their loyalty to a nobleman or some other wealthy employer. “You will have to make do.” Though Goran needed no such protection, he had always basked in the prestige of having a bonded Brava at his side.
“I am so sorry for your great sacrifice, Lord Goran,” Mandan said with thick sarcasm. “I cannot imagine the pain you must be feeling. Does it compare to mine at losing a father, or that of the Commonwealth losing a beloved ruler?”
He shut the lid of the chest that held Conndur’s heart and fixed the hasp with a sharp click, letting his palm linger on the gilded wood as if he could feel his father’s heart still beating inside.
11
THE Fellstaff remembrance shrine felt like another home to Shadri. Proud of her new title as the queen’s legacier, the young scholar had spent many days there with books spread out on the long table, reading by sunshine or candlelight. She asked persistent questions, because she wanted to learn everything. Today, rather than studying alone, she was glad Queen Tafira offered to accompany her.
Silent and serious as the queen’s protector, with his black cape flowing behind him, the Brava Lasis led the two of them through the streets to the two-story remembrance shrine. Shadri continued talking, her conversation as erratic as a bumblebee in flight. “Maybe the legaciers will tell you more answers than I’ve been able to learn, my lady. Legacier Thooma seems impatient with me when I ask too many questions.”
Tafira frowned. “They should be pleased that someone is so interested in our history.”
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