Sojin appeared, first cell to the right.
Shackles from the walls stretched his arms and body into a tight Y. The mud bricks above them swelled into a feverish red.
“Keys,” Jaime coughed. “Do you have the keys?”
Chori shook his head, a hysterical sob bursting out of his lips.
Jaime studied the rock walls of the cell, pressed his chiton to his nose. Closed his eyes. His mind searched for the right current. Achuros had instructed him to focus on the basic ones, but in his spare time, Jaime memorized most of the intermediate and advanced ones, too. Just in case.
Thank the skies I did.
Jaime took a heaping breath. Refocusing. His mind wrapped around The Empyrean’s threads. His avai pulsed, grew with energy. All of his senses screamed, Let go, NOW!
But he held on, building the threads, biding the current until the energy in the center of his being was so strong, so massive, his heart felt crushed. Didn’t Achuros once warn him drawing too much Empyrean energy could kill him?
He gasped and released.
A giant current of air smashed itself at the left cell wall. The floor under their feet quaked. The iron bars caved in. Chori jumped inside, throwing himself around Sojin’s chest.
“Ba!” he cried. “Ba!”
Jaime aimed the folds of Achuros’s fan at the cuff points for precision. Hurled two more currents at them—snap!
The cuffs released Sojin.
The elder man pressed Chori’s nose against his chest, shielding him from smoke. He took his eight-foot kendao with his other hand.
“I did not betray the Mayor,” Sojin panted.
“I know,” Jaime said. “The royal lochos is still outside. I can’t fight them all, and Florin needs you. Will you help me?”
Sojin bowed his head in reply. Jaime’s lips formed a small smile.
They flew downstairs, staggering out of the prisons. A second later, the front section of it groaned. The two-story building collapsed into a molten pool of timber and flames.
Sojin set his son down and pressed a kiss to Jaime’s head.
“Look after him for me,” the elder warrior said. “I will handle Haigen.”
“I will,” he whispered.
And Sojin let him go.
Jaime waved Chori to the eastern edge of the agora. Together, they built a makeshift fort with the fallen timbers from stands and scaffolds. Jaime shot currents at any soldier who dared get too close.
Lord Haigen’s bellow pierced through the clamor.
“Stop, you baikan! Cowards of dogs! I’ll have every deserter burned!”
The daimyo fought on the incline of a burning temple. He drew back his kendao, plunged the spear-like blade into the nearest Arcurean guard. Blood dripped a crescent moon over the stone panels as the Jaypan gasped—but another kendao ripped through his back, out of his stomach.
Haigen’s eyes stretched wide.
The single-edged halberd dropped from his grip. Jaws trembling, he peered down at the steel sticking out of him.
Sojin stood behind him, outlined by the fire, gripping the other end of the kendao.
A shudder passed through his body. Haigen Namoto collapsed. As the blade slid back out, an urgent cry tore across the agora.
“All royal units, retreat! Fall back!”
In one massive crashing wave, the remaining soldiers threw off their opponents, scrambled onto their horses, and galloped into the dark shelter of the Krete Forests. Those on foot stumbled to follow.
An Arcurean guard threw his bloody spear into the air.
“Victory!”
Jaime blinked.
Impossible.
But the shout was as real as the winds at his fingertips.
The rest of the ashen, weary warriors of Arcurea raised their weapons. Jaime joined them in a united roar.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Pimples had sprouted on his face overnight.
Everywhere—two on his chin, one on the right corner of his lip, one below that, three more along his forehead like a swollen constellation.
Jaime rubbed them in the dark of the Pantheon of Air. He hadn’t noticed them until now, after the Battle of Arcurea had quieted, and the bodies, both Arcurean and royal, were cleared from the streets.
They hurt.
He gazed up at the empty altar high above him. Squeezing his medallion, he sank onto his knees.
“Lord Jaypes,” he whispered.
His voice echoed.
Lord Jaypes . . .
Jaypes . . .
Though no stonemist incense was lit, a mysterious whiff of it tickled his nose. He closed his eyes, breathed it in.
“I—I’m sorry.”
Wet beads gathered in the corner of his eyes, but he kept his lids shut, resisting them.
I understand now, Lordship. The Arcureans were never fighting for me. They are fighting for you. They saw you in me all along. Even though I couldn’t—I didn’t want to.
The dead Jaypans on the streets flashed through his mind. Blank gazes. Breathless bodies. Friend and foe—all his people.
Jaime let out a breath.
In the isolated darkness, tears spilled over the new bumps on his skin.
“If I’m going to take more lives . . . ” He bowed his head the way he saw his mother do so many times on Mount Alairus. “Help me be strong, Lord Jaypes. Help me end this war.”
Jaime opened his eyes, fixing them on the altar.
Help me do this for Mamá.
At dawn, he left his prayers, and his tears, in the pantheon. A myrrh-like aroma lingered on his skin. The medallion hung openly from his chest. No longer would he hide it away under his chiton.
Gold streaks of dawn lightened the sky.
By the time Jaime arrived home, he collapsed into bed without changing out of his sandals or stained clothes. For the first time in months, he slept dreamlessly till late afternoon.
They held a makeshift assembly in Florin’s bedchambers. Prescilla was propped up against the pillows. Jaime raced to embrace her.
“My lady!” he cried, half laughing. “You’re okay!”
She gripped him tightly, her arms against his head. The roundness of her belly was gone.
But where is the baby?
Jaime glanced at the windowpane, where Florin sat absorbing the wan daylight. His sterling eyes were wet. Jaime tilted his head, puzzled. But the Mayor closed his eyes. Tears spilled free, rolling down the cuts on his face.
Jaime’s heart stopped.
He peered back at Prescilla. But she refused to look at him either.
Gone.
His vision blurred.
“Prince.”
Sojin stepped out into the daylight. Blisters plagued both of his arms. Like the Menanders, he hadn’t taken the time to bandage himself properly.
“We must speak,” the City Captain said.
His throat hurt, but he swallowed and nodded.
The only missing member of the Inner Council was Achuros.
Sojin took the initiative to order hot bread into the chambers. Everyone silently took a roll. But when the basket returned to the elder warrior, he passed.
Florin forced words through his watery voice. “You must eat, Sojin.”
“My indigestion.” The City Captain placed a hand on his belly. “I will eat later.”
Jaime stared at them. Sojin and indigestion. Prescilla and lavender oil. Achuros and his extended naps, his bottles of wine. And Florin? Well, Florin always smells of incense, which means he’s always praying.
It dawned on him for the first time—stress was crippling these Jaypan leaders. Even the most powerful of Jaypes’s lords and ladies were as scared and exhausted as him.
And now, Jaime and his pimples.
He placed a hand t
o his chin in embarrassment.
“So.” Lady Prescilla forced a smile. “Sweet prince, you saved our home. Lord Jaypes knows no boundaries of our gratitude.”
The men nodded.
“Thanks,” Jaime coughed, “but now what?”
Florin dug his thumb into his knot of bread. “The Archpriestess will not forget her defeat. Now that she knows your whereabouts, you will not be safe here. As soon as you are ready, you must depart for the High Temple.”
“But . . . the King’s patrols—”
“Will have tripled by now.” Sojin spoke up. “It troubles me that Reizo Kita was absent last night. If we know anything about that Arch-wench, she does not travel far without the Chief Strategos’s protection. One child may make it past a legion of soldiers undetected, but not our mobilized lochoi.”
They want me to go alone.
His mouth grew dry. “But . . . I don’t know the way.”
At the Lord Mayor’s nod, Sojin unfurled a map and spread it across the wooden table. “Temple Jaypes is here, at the highest point of the Lunar Peaks.” He pointed far north, further than even Mount Alairus. Then his middle finger slid three-fourths down the map. “You are here. Head northeast to the hills beyond town. You will see a marker for the Solstice Current.”
Jaime nodded. “I saw it once when I was training with Achuros.”
“Take it and use the winds to navigate. They will help you bypass many mountain trails.”
“Wait—you want me to ride a current?”
Prescilla squeezed her husband’s arm. “The currents are out of control, Florin. They could kill him.”
“Travelling by horse or foot is out of the question now, my love. The Holy Lord will protect him.” The Mayor turned back to Jaime. “Prince, do you have the windcloak we gave you?”
“I think it’s in my room.”
Sojin continued. “When you take Solstice to the bottom of the cliffs, you will transit onto Northwind. Take care to ride it but northeast for two days until the scrublands change to forests of kingpine. A marker for the Silverwind current will await you across a ford. It will be the last you take before you reach the base of the northern peaks. The stone path will take you up into the heavens. When you are at the gate, announce to the airpriests who you are, and you will be admitted.”
The longer Jaime stared at the vastness of the Kingdom of Air, the more he felt like the size of a water vole.
“I’ve never travelled so far on my own before.”
Florin left Prescilla’s bedside and placed a firm grip on his shoulders. “You have done far greater things only yesterday, Jaime.”
“But what about all of you?” Panic needled his chest. “The King will burn Arcurea now that he knows you’re on my side. And the Air Alliance—will they help you fight?”
“No matter the Air Alliance. To give our lives for yours would be our highest honor to His Lordship.”
The others nodded. His belly clenched.
This war’s just starting.
Now that he knew how to control his Sage powers, every high place in New Jaypes would plot to kill him. Every dirt trail he walked, every hamlet he entered, could be his last.
“What about Achuros?”
Everyone’s eyes flickered away. When Jaime couldn’t stand it anymore, he said, “What will happen to him?”
“He is in the infirmary,” Florin murmured. “The Council will pass sentence the day after tomorrow, when order is restored. If you have any last words, it is best you say them before your voyage.”
“Hey, kid.”
Jaime stopped outside the infirmary’s doors, turning around.
Toran stood in the middle of the pavement, arms hanging awkwardly. At the corner of agora, the Glaiddish mercenaries were assembling for departure.
“Toran,” he blinked. “You got my message to the Glaiddish yesterday.”
“Yeah, I did. And now I’m waiting for that royal feast you’ve prepared for me as thanks.”
Jaime laughed. Toran’s hand vanished behind the unruly curls dangling over his neck.
“Well, I guess this is goodbye forever.”
Jaime raised his brows. Toran shrugged. “Now that I’m reunited with The Bean, maybe we’ll be able to finish up here and go home soon.” He grinned. “I miss fried eggs, and sausage and buttery muffins and grog for breakfast. All the standard fare for a Glaiddish.” He patted his Kaipponese gut. “I bet Beanie does too.”
His belly was in freefall. One more person he would never see again.
“You can’t go. I made a promise to help you find the light.”
“You already kept your promise, man. You freed me from Jaypan prison. It was damn dark and smelly in there.”
“You’re still not going to tell me why you’re in Jaypes?”
“Maybe another time.”
“See you never again, Toran.” Jaime moved to embrace him.
“Don’t touch me—I’ll punch your ugly face—”
But Jaime threw his arms around him anyway. “The next time we talk, remind me to tell you about these crazy spiders I saw.”
Toran slapped him back. “Juno?”
“Yes?”
“Nice pimples.”
Jaime let go. “Shut up, pork lions.”
Lady Eridene cantered into the alley, white skylight outlining her atop her stallion. Her dark hair fell in a messy braid over one shoulder. At the cock of her head, his best friend tottered away and mounted his own gelding.
Jaime locked eyes with her. His body suddenly tingled with heat.
But she didn’t smile or speak. The lady reined herself around in one lithe tug. Without so much as a command, the Glaiddish men poured down the hill behind her with all the force of a waterfall.
Jaime gave a crooked smile.
Lord Jaypes, please, please make it so that Lady Eridene and I meet again.
His insides squirmed at sight of the infirmary. Jaime took several deep breaths and pushed his way inside.
The stench gagged him.
All of the beds were occupied. Men of the City Watch were missing limbs, fingers, eyes. One man’s intestines dangled out. The southern heat drew flies to the raw chunks of his flesh.
Jaime pressed a hand to his mouth.
This is what Sojin meant when he said people are dying for me. Gods. I’ll kill you, Father. I’ll look into your eyes and watch the blood drain from your face when it’s finally your turn.
A nurse led Jaime to Achuros’s bed.
He swallowed.
The airpriest’s eyes were closed. Rust-brown stained the bandage around his midsection. Jaime lifted it with quivering fingers. A gaping hole appeared past the ripped flesh: raw meat and roiling puss. No one would survive that wound.
Jaime let go of the bandage and turned for the doors.
“Leaving without saying goodbye?”
He went still, turning around. Achuros’s eyelids parted into slits.
“Lord Jaypes, how much of a stinking corpse I am. In the end, that’s what we all are, eh?”
Despite the stone weights on his feet, Jaime knelt down. He pressed his head against his mentor’s shoulder. The tension beneath the old man’s skin seemed to loosen. The priest let out a quiet sigh.
“I’m going to the High Temple tomorrow,” Jaime said.
They both pretended to ignore the shackles on Achuros’s wrists.
“I heard. I wager I’ll be a carcass before the Council hurls me into the bloody pit. But there are things you should know.” Achuros tilted his head back. “Damasia—the Archpriestess—I had a plan in motion to kill her. The Council won’t believe me, and rightly so—my letter was supposed to draw her to me. I would never betray you—”
“It’s okay, I don’t want to talk about it.” Jaime pulled the tasseled fan out of his sash
. “Here, this is yours.”
Achuros looked at it for a long time, then shook his head.
“It isn’t mine.”
“What do you—”
“It belonged to Lairdos Ascaerii.”
He stumbled and threw open the fan, his eyes wide. “Lairdos? But—how do you have . . . ”
Memories danced like ghosts over the old priest’s eyes. “He was my apprentice once, a long time ago. The Temple weaved it for him. I presented it to him on his first day of training.”
Jaime dropped his jaw.
“After you became my apprentice, you reminded me of him so much. Both of you hot-headed, stubborn, ego bigger than a horse’s cock. He was the last Sage of redoubtable character, I believed.” Achuros smiled. “Until I met you.”
“You mentored a King!”
“I served him in the Capital until the night of his death. Before I left, your mother gave it to me with her blessing.” The airpriest’s smile lifted skyward. “Keep it. You earned it.”
He suddenly grew conscious of the medallion around his chest. His heart fell as he rubbed its edges into his thumbs. “I don’t know, Achuros. Isn’t this the only thing making me what I am?”
“Boy.”
His mentor lifted up his chin.
“That trash Damasia said about your fate—did you also hear the part about how she’s an ugly old slattern? Or did I leave that out?” Jaime laughed. “Destiny is a choice. You have never been more ready for the High Temple. Gods—look at you.”
Jaime blinked.
“Have you heard none of the idle chatter among those councilors? Your voice is deeper. The blubber has left your cheeks. And I even see you’ve sprouted some pretty boils, eh?”
He cupped his chin, his face hot. Achuros squeezed his arm gently.
“Jaime, Jaime, how much you’ve grown. Sarendi would be proud—if only your mother could see you know.”
Jaime locked onto Achuros’s hand, afraid to let go. “Tell me about what it was like in the Capital. Back when Lairdos and my blood-mother ruled Jaypes.” Fighting fresh tears.
“Well. We had a common saying in Old Jaypes.” Achuros closed Jaime’s hand over the medallion. “Lairdos sang it before any of us in his court would embark on a long journey.”
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