Cemi felt drawn to the shimmering entity that had protected them. She stepped close, sensing the crackle in the air and energy like the echo of a thunderstorm. Tentatively, she reached out to touch the field. Her fingertips tingled, but not painfully. She pressed her palm harder against it and felt a warmth inside, a connection.
Could this strange protector be a new godling manifested by the constant prayers for Empra Iluris? Every day, the people chanted and sacrificed—not just to the godling in Serepol, but also to the empra herself. She suspected the new godling was tethered to Iluris and, by extension, to Cemi, too.
She pressed harder with her palm, enjoying the thrumming reassurance, and knew the entity would protect them. Are you a new godling?
The searchers had long since vanished down the corridor, but the invisible guardian remained in place. Cemi whispered, “Thank you,” and felt that it understood her. She also sensed it was curious, even a little frightened about its situation. Maybe it did not understand what it was.
“I’ll tell you stories, if you stay,” she promised. “Once I explain what I know, you can protect us better.” The warm tingle inside her was the godling’s way of acknowledging her words.
Vos looked at Cemi with awe. She smiled, glad she could impress the handsome guard captain. At last, Cemi allowed herself to feel genuinely safe.
* * *
After bringing a basket of smoked fish and fresh apples through the blurry camouflage field, Analera distributed the food. During their weeks of restless hiding, the old servant also brought them news from outside. The old woman told them of rumors spreading throughout the city because Empra Iluris had mysteriously vanished. Some raised the question of foul play, with Klovus the obvious guilty party.
“Priestlord Klovus rode away to Tamburdin with part of the Isharan army,” Analera said. “The Hethrren barbarians have stepped up their attacks.” She grimaced. “I am quite happy to have that man gone.”
Cemi looked at Analera as thoughts spiraled out, possibilities she had not guessed before. “This may be our chance.” She glanced at Captani Vos, who nodded. Flushed, he rose to his feet, barely able to contain his excitement.
“If Key Priestlord Klovus has gone to Tamburdin,” Cemi said, “we have to take advantage of the opportunity. At least spread word through the streets, find out who our allies are.” She tried to think of what Empra Iluris would have done. She searched through her memories of classes, the lectures of statecraft. For Iluris, she needed to find some way to hold the land together, otherwise her mentor would have no throne when she finally awakened.
“Should we bring the empra out to the people?” Analera asked. “Show them that she is still alive? We can reveal the assassination plot.”
Cemi wanted that more than anything, but she was wise enough to understand the great risks and drawbacks. “What they will see is an unconscious woman near death. They will think the empra is weak, and they will be fearful.”
Vos interjected: “We know that Klovus is behind those assassins, but we have no proof. His men have been searching for us constantly.” He looked up at the shimmering entity that provided camouflage. “Without our guardian, we would have been discovered weeks ago.”
Cemi said, “We don’t know how many secret allies Klovus has. This conspiracy might run through the army as well as the palace guards. If we show ourselves but have no allies, the empra and all of us might well be killed before we could speak a word to the people.”
“But you can’t just hide, my lady!” Analera said, then intentionally added, “Excellency. The people do not know what to think. They have heard nothing of their beloved empra, have not seen Iluris except for when you rushed her through the streets after returning from Fulcor Island. Even you, Cemi, have not stepped forth to claim your place.”
“I wasn’t strong enough,” Cemi said.
“My hawk guards will help you,” Vos replied. “I will help you.”
Cemi thought of what she might do, even trapped here. Iluris would have told her to think and see differently, to find unexpected resources where others saw nothing. “We must plant seeds. Analera, you have contacts in the city, in the craft districts, the markets. You speak to other servants, traders, shop owners, craftspeople, commoners.”
“Oh yes, Excellency. Every day I hear people expressing their fear for the empra, praying for her to come back. You heard it, too, from the tower windows.”
“Praying for her…” Cemi said and thought of the shimmering force that protected them. “Have them keep praying, but also tell them that the empra is with the godlings, that she is guarded by them against the treachery in her own land. And when she is strong enough, she will return.” She bit her lower lip, smiling at what she had suggested. “Yes, spread the rumor. Let her people tell the story.”
“Oh, yes.” The old servant’s thin lips broke into a grin. “It will be like ripples from stones thrown into a pond. They will talk, and others will talk. The story will take hold while the key priestlord is gone.”
“Tell as many people as you can,” Cemi said. “Compile a list of our most trusted supporters, people we can contact when it is time, but do not write it down.”
Analera responded with a somber nod. “I would not put such people at risk.” She touched the side of her temple. “I will know. I will remember who is still loyal.”
“Good,” Cemi said, taking both of Analera’s hands in hers with a grateful smile. “While the key priestlord is in Tamburdin with Isharan troops, it’s time for us to quietly raise our own army.”
56
WHEN Elliel and Thon returned from the north without a young boy huddled on their saddle, King Kollanan’s heart broke again. He hung his head, squeezed Tafira’s hand. “Ancestors’ blood, what have they done with the poor child?”
Without dismounting, the two reined in their horses at the gates, where the king and queen met them. Elliel looked down at Koll from the saddle. “Your grandson lives, Sire, but the frostwreth queen refuses to release him. She considers Birch a pet.”
Kollanan wrestled with his emotions. Birch might be alive, but Queen Onn knew the child’s value as a hostage … if wreths even understood such things. When the sandwreth reinforcements arrived to attack the Lake Bakal fortress, how would Onn react? Now that the diplomatic overture had failed, would she simply send his body back for revenge? How much did she value him?
“Does she know that he is the king’s grandson?” Koll asked.
Elliel considered. “I don’t think so, Sire.”
“I do not believe she makes much distinction among humans,” Thon said. “I used my powers to intimidate them, but Onn threatened to kill the boy if I used greater force. I … I am sorry I was not able to accomplish it.”
Tafira looked up at the distraught riders, noting the exhausted horses, the scuffed tack, the rumpled clothes. “Thank you for trying. It was a brave attempt.”
“Were the wreths preparing to strike?” Koll asked. “How much time do we have before they retaliate?”
Thon fidgeted in his saddle, as if distracted by the towering walls of Fellstaff. Elliel said, “Thon’s powers will make Queen Onn think twice about attacking us. I don’t think she’s ever seen anything like it.”
Thon said, “The frostwreths are building a huge army in the north. They consider the sandwreths their mortal enemies, but humans seem to be no more than a nuisance to them.”
Elliel nodded. “I agree. Norterra did not seem to be her greatest concern.”
Thon brightened and turned back to the king. “We did accomplish one thing.” He patted two large wrapped packages slung behind his saddle. “The frostwreths offered all their historical records.”
Elliel’s smile was filled with pride. “You gave her no choice.”
Thon responded with a sheepish grin. “The scholar girl and I will learn as much as we can about who I am and who the wreths are.”
* * *
The castle’s private library was lit by a warm fire
. Pokle added logs twice an hour, mainly as an excuse to see Shadri. With candles in sconces as well as the watery sunlight from the windows, the young woman found the place warm, cozy, and conducive to learning.
Shadri wished she could read the wreth language herself. Stacks of sandwreth documents remained for study. She and Thon had translated and transcribed only a small portion of them.
Standing before the long library table, Thon magnanimously spread out the sheets he had just retrieved from Queen Onn. “Now, with both sets of records, we have the history of the wreth race … my race? Soon, scholar girl, we will know more about the wreths than anyone else in the world.”
Shadri tapped the crystal sheets and looked at the handwritten papers beside them, where she had transcribed the other legends, including the apocryphal tale of Kur hiding inside the mountain to forget his sorrow. “I doubt either version is the true history. Were these accounts written contemporaneously, or are they legends set down much later?”
Thon picked up a sheet, held the transparent crystal up to the candlelight, watched the flame flicker through the etched writing. “What is true history and what is a false story? How would we know? I don’t remember any of it personally, nor do you.”
Shadri pondered and then asked a question that would have horrified any legacier. “Does that ancient history truly matter to us now? Humans survived for two thousand years after the wreths destroyed the world and abandoned us. We built ourselves up, created our own cities. We have records of those terrible first centuries, while we healed the world. As stewards, we tended the scarred fields and replanted the forests so that two thousand years later the land is recovered, almost healthy. That is what matters more to me.”
“And now the wreths are back,” Thon said. “I do not believe it is cause for celebration.”
“Neither do I.” Shadri picked up one of the crystal documents Thon had brought back from the north, then pulled out a fresh sheet of paper. For so long she had wandered the three kingdoms with her meager journals, writing in cramped letters and filling each page with as many words as she could possibly fit. Now it seemed extravagant to have so much paper, but she was writing history, documenting vital new information. She felt pride in her heart to have such important work. “To business.”
Thon ran his long finger across the crystal surface as if his mere fingertip could draw truth from the document. “If you are ready, Shadri?”
She adjusted her blank paper, flexed her fingers, and dipped the quill in ink. “I am ready.”
Thon pricked his thumb and spilled a drop of blood onto the crystal sheet before his innate healing abilities stopped the flow. The stain on the crystalline sheet interacted with the markings, catalyzing them to display layers of text that hung in the air.
Thon narrated a story about some of the last wreth battles, in which the exhausted and decimated armies battled in the mountains. Most of the human foot soldiers had already been wiped out, parts of the landscape turned to black glass by magical explosions and outpourings of blood.
In the crags of what were now called the Dragonspine Mountains, Queen Voo had her final confrontation with Queen Onn. They battled on the mountaintop with the ground shaking and lava flowing, the world itself crushed and broken around them. The two clashed with crystal spears and sharpened swords, symbolizing the age-old conflict, their need for revenge.
Thon paused as he read. “I found an account of the same battle written by the sandwreths, and it is a different story.” He let out a rude snort. “Each faction sees through only one eye.”
He finished reading about how Voo had slashed Onn’s face before a great eruption shook the mountains and drove the two apart. The frostwreths swept their wounded queen to safety, while the sandwreths retreated across the blasted land. Both races went dormant for two thousand years.
“I wish they’d just stayed gone,” Shadri muttered. “And left us alone.”
Thon selected another random sheet from the stack and read an important story about a pair of wreths who had actually battled Ossus. One huge army was led by Dar from the frostwreth faction—although oddly the text simply said wreths, without distinguishing whether they were the descendants of Raan or Suth. Dar wounded the enormous dragon with her spear, and Rao, “one of the greatest wreth warriors,” fought beside her. Ossus was injured, and the dragon tunneled deep under the mountains, where it remained buried ever since.
“I think I must have been sealed inside Mount Vada long before Dar and Rao battled the dragon,” Thon said. “I don’t remember it.”
Shadri ran a finger along her lips, curious. “So, Dar was a frostwreth, and it is apparent from other documents that Rao came from the sandwreths. In this story, the two are fighting together, joining forces against a common enemy.”
“Ah, a novel concept! Though I am sure both races would deny your interpretation. They seem to have forgotten that point now.”
“Whether or not it was ever true,” Shadri muttered.
Thon said, “Dar’s spear is mounted behind Queen Onn’s throne, and it still has the blood of the dragon. I saw it myself. That gives evidence the story is at least partly true.”
Shadri was more skeptical. “Anyone can hang a bloodstained spear on a wall and tell a story. And it seems preposterous that a dragon can be so large that its buried body makes a mountain range. If Ossus is truly that big, how would the wreths possibly defeat it? Even if they all worked together?”
Thon regarded her skeptically. “You know how much evil exists in the world—look at what happened to my poor Elliel. We know what the Isharans did to your Konag Conndur. We saw how the frostwreths wiped out the people at Lake Bakal. The dragon is the embodiment of that evil. Kur must have had a plan for it all.” He scratched his dark hair, his brow furrowing. “It feels strange to speak of him that way. If I…”
“So the story goes,” Shadri said. “Kur purged himself of all evil thoughts and used them to manifest the enormous dragon. But that doesn’t make sense. If all the evil in the world is wrapped up in a dragon buried deep beneath the mountains, then why is there still evil loose in the world?” She raised her hands in frustration. “Why is there violence and anger and revenge? We see it everywhere! Why do people still do terrible things to one another? Why do the wreths still hate their rivals? The evil is not buried away!”
“I do not think all darkness remained sealed inside the dragon,” Thon said. “How could one dragon encompass it all? Perhaps evil is inherent in us … or in you. Maybe you are born with it. It is as if in purging himself, Kur removed a bucket of water from a stream, yet the water keeps flowing.”
“Then what hope is there?” Shadri asked. “If the wreths are inherently flawed and therefore we humans—their secondary creations—are also flawed, then killing the dragon will not stop the evil.”
Thon ignored the hovering letters that shimmered in the air. “True. The stream will keep flowing.”
Shadri leaned close and asked, “Can you feel the evil in yourself? You aren’t human, and I’m not entirely convinced you’re just a wreth either. If you are Kur, then there’s no evil in you.… If you purged all that darkness from yourself, do you experience hate? Do you feel violence?”
“I do not know what it would feel like.…” He shrugged again. “Maybe we all need hardness and softness, strength and weakness, in order to be truly strong.”
With a wave of his hand, the letters in the air disappeared. He was much more interested in the discussion with Shadri than in reading documents. “Maybe a single dragon cannot contain all of the dark powers of a god. What if the evil from Ossus is leaking out into the world … and has done so for centuries?”
Shadri was caught up in the idea. “Or maybe Ossus is gone, but still lives inside every one of us. If all the evil in the world were safely buried away, if every person—every wreth and every human—was entirely good and pure, then how would you even measure evil? Would it even exist?”
Thon remained silent for a long
moment. “I do not know.” He picked up another sheet and pricked his thumb, reopening the wound. “Let us content ourselves with legends instead of philosophy. Sometimes that makes more sense.”
57
A PROCESSION of augas came over the hills, twenty of the beasts striding two abreast. The reptilian beasts plodded forward on muscular legs, dragging wooden sledges piled high with remarkable obsidian material.
Adan was reminded of an Utauk caravan. Leading the procession was the stern wreth mage Axus, followed by three other wreths from the worker caste. The augas ground to a halt as Adan came out to meet them. His Banner guards remained alert, taking up positions behind him, but he felt alone without Penda or her father.
Mage Axus did not dismount, but turned his deeply lined face down toward the king. “Queen Voo commanded that I deliver this shadowglass and provide instruction in its use. Shadowglass is a potent substance.” Other wreths worked to detach the harnesses from the beasts. As if a spell had been broken, the sledges sagged onto the ground.
Adan looked at the piled black sheets that drank all the light of day. Other boxes carried shards and fragments. His father-in-law often wore a pendant of black glass hanging from his ear as ornamentation, and the load from even a single sledge here was worth a fortune. “You have brought me a great treasure.”
“Not treasure—a war chest. As Queen Voo explained, this shadowglass is to be used to enhance weapons for your fighters. With such armaments, your army may survive when we battle the frostwreths. The queen wants you to kill as many of them as possible.”
The worker wreths lifted sheets of the obsidian. Axus continued, “Use the shadowglass to make your shields impervious to frostwreth magic. Larger fragments can serve as projectiles.” His stony face creased in what might have been the attempt at a smile. “Smaller shards can be used for arrows and spears that will pierce frostwreth armor. Longer shards can be inlaid on swords to enhance the blades. Shadowglass fuses well with steel.”
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