Lightfall, p.32
LightFall, page 32
Despite the certainty in his tone—not to mention his poetical splendor—her face paled. “You have no idea. You haven’t…” Her red-rimmed eyes widened, and her gaze snapped to Aric. “But you know. You’ve glimpsed the heart of the horde. All the weapons in the world will dull and shatter on that relentless tide. Tell him. Tell your brother”—she jeered the word—“who sits where you might’ve been that we must stay the course if we are to find our way to victory.”
Aric stared back at her through icy eyes. “The night after you took me from the royal scion chambers, you told me you would take my tongue if I kept screaming. Imagine that I had kept screaming, and that you had indeed silenced me then, and that I have no tongue now to speak on your behalf.” He faced the king. “I do not forget that you had no mercy for me after I was sent to the monster—and little enough before, for that matter. And I remember all too well that your sword and your blessing were both used as weapons against me. But if I am not to become more a monster myself, I would reject the Devouring given any other choice.”
“Fools, fools,” the numinlor whispered. “When the horde strikes again, even the Devouring won’t be enough. And the next Great Gorging will take us all.” Her rolling eyes fixed on Lady Dyania. “You. This is your doing, your profane beckoning in Velderrey lured the horde…and beguiled the prince into blasphemy. I see how he hungers for you, not your aura but your flesh—”
“No,” Aric said. “Clearly you don’t see a bedamned thing because my rebellion is not the lady’s doing.”
Did his scarred gaze flick to me, just for a heartbeat? My heart was beating so frantically, that count would’ve been too swift for anyone else to note.
With a choked sound, Kalima spun away. As she did, the dagged slashes of her white robe flared with all the colors, though my worried eye seemed to lock on the ones as scarlet as spilled blood, the vivid purple-blue of a bloated corpse, and the sulphur yellow of a lit match waiting to burn our world to ash.
The other lors fell into step behind her, except for Imbril, whose bruised cheek was a dull echo of the numinlor’s sanctified jewels. He gave one wild glance around the entire throne room as if there were anything to see or anyone to save him. Unfortunately for him, his gaze fell last upon me, and I widened my eyes just a little and gave the tiniest shake of my head with a final tilt in the direction of the departing haloria. He might not be sure what to do next, but I’d always found that having someone to open doors from within was an opportunity not to be squandered.
I’d have to seek him out and test his choice later, but for now he seemed helplessly swept up in the flow of white robes, and he left with them.
Which left the remaining three of us with the king and his advisors—and the Dragon Prince, of course. We all stared at each other warily.
“What does she fear?” the king murmured.
“Oblivion,” the prince said, “with the blemish of every choice marked on her aura when she stands in the amaranthine light.”
Mikhalthe huffed out a breath. “Is that the poetry she was complaining about?”
The prince shook his head. “She took the scrolls we were researching, and I wouldn’t put it past her to have destroyed them lest we try to wrest them back.”
I stiffened. He hadn’t told me of that worry; we should’ve tried to sneak them back when we had the chance.
The king shrugged. “Years too late, to my mind. I hated all the memorizing of those dusty old things.”
Dyania cleared her throat. “The verse we found referenced a way to collect and concentrate auric purity, to be turned against the horde. As a weapon, it seems much more powerful than the bloodfire rune I used in Velderrey.”
Leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees, the king stared at her. “Could you make this weapon? Your blood destroyed the horde at Velderrey, so you could do it again?”
She bit her lip. “Your Illuminance, it wasn’t quite—”
“We need a reliquary first,” Aric interrupted. “A vessel strong and pure enough to hold a tremendous, annihilating power.” His eyes sparked, and I thought of the ominous lightning in the silent auric storm. “You’ll have to give up some of the High Keep’s treasure, brother, gemstones and gold for smelting.”
Mikhalthe grimaced but waved his hand again. “Take what you need. And you’ll need a blacksmith or a jeweler, likely both.”
Aric shook his head. “I have a Rokynd who knows the ways of stone and metal.”
I noticed he didn’t mentioned his mysterious contact who might know more about this mysterious weapon we’d maybe discovered.
“What are you going to do about Numinlor Kalima?” I asked.
Everyone looked at me, and Mikhalthe frowned. “Do what about her?”
I held back a sigh. “You humiliated her—just questioned her demands, really, but that’s not how she saw it—and sent her away. She’s not going to forget that.”
“Feinan has a point.” Lisel shifted uneasily when the king and his advisors turned to her. “Your Illuminance, you rule the Living Lands and command the armies against the horde”—she glanced at her father—“but the haloria safeguards the auras of the people. And some won’t be willing to risk going against the haloria if the numinlor speaks against us.”
“True,” the prince drawled. “There are many who would rather let others take the risks.”
Since everyone in the room, everyone in the kingdom had let the Chosen Ones and the Dragon Prince lose the most, we all kept silent at his accusation.
“Kalima knows her place,” Mikhalthe said. “I am her king.” As if that were enough.
Hoping for some brotherly intervention, I slanted a glance at Aric
But he only shrugged. “The haloria has power to burn and no mercy, but they’ve never been known for haste. By the time they debate a response, we’ll have our luminarca…or we’ll have failed.”
I’d grumbled to myself before about his fatalism, but in this case, I didn’t see any other likely path. “The Devouring has already been announced for tomorrow night. That gives us a night and a day to save you and the world.”
If only we had loved more than we feared.
~ A fragment of some old scroll in a language half forgotten turning to dust at the back of Ormonde’s library
CHAPTER 24
WE DIVIDED: the king and prince to visit the royal treasury in search of raw materials for an auric reliquary, Dyania with Lisel and the marshal as escort to meet with the other Chosen Ones, and the pike-bearing palace guard to…sharpen their pikes or whatever.
Which left me alongside no’Maru as we all exited the throne room.
I’d started to tag along after Aric—of course I was drawn to the temptation of a whole royal treasury—but the advisor’s fingers wrapped around my elbow had other plans.
I wanted to yank loose but that would cause other trouble. Also, going to the treasury would definitely lead to trouble—of my making, even I could admit that much.
So I hung morosely in his grip until the others were out of sight.
“So refreshing to see Prince Aric out and about,” no’Maru drawled.
“Out of his imprisonment, you mean, both unwanted and self-imposed?” I tilted my head. “I suppose it’s a measure of our dire circumstances that he exposes himself again to those who tortured him.”
“Undoubtedly.” He still hadn’t released me and instead rotated me toward the windows where winter daylight brightened the panes. “But I’m thinking there are other causes. Kalima blames the pretty lady and noble pining, but I suspect other sorts of exposure.” He gave me a knowing smile.
Since he wasn’t wrong, I was even more indignant. But I hadn’t spent years talking my way out of the grip of Sevaare’s watch and Orton’s headthumpers just to babble to some upstart uncle.
“Prince Aric has secrets he’s buried deep beneath those scars. It’ll take more digging for the exposure you want.” I gazed at him with a fainter version of the same smile. “But speaking of exposure, I think you agreed with me about the numinlor. I saw your look when the king and the prince said she’ll fall in line.”
His smug expression vanished, gray-green eyes narrowing. “Mikhalthe and Aric have both faced tremendous threats and suffered terrible losses in their own ways, but they’ve never known the peculiar foreboding of not knowing what tomorrow holds. They don’t appreciate how the haloric promise that our auras at least will rest in the light everlasting offers commoners some small comfort of believing.”
“Commoners like us?” I muttered.
His smile returned. “We are neither of us common, Feinan no’Sevaare. So we needn’t pretend to believe, not when it is just us two.”
Maybe he wasn’t wrong—I’d always wanted to consider myself not just another waif in Sevaare’s alleys—but neither did I want to align myself with no’Maru and his shrewd smiles. Maybe I just didn’t want to understand him as well as I did.
But I also suspected I needed to tell him something if I wanted to keep him available as a possible resource. I needed to tell him something he’d already figured out for himself, to make him feel clever, that wouldn’t damage our position. “Prince Aric really does want to bring an end to the horde,” I said. “And I think he would risk almost anything to make it happen, would have before if he’d thought anyone might listen to him.” I gave the king’s advisor a hard look, quite out of keeping with my usual determination to not cause trouble. “I suppose what happens next will matter partly whether everyone else truly wants to defeat the horde.”
No’Maru gave me another smile, more bland this time. “Of course everyone wants to defeat the horde,” he said, much too smoothly. “Why would you even question.”
Again, I reflected his smile back at him. “After all this time in the High Keep”—I hadn’t been there long at all—“I suppose it’s true I’m no longer quite common enough to believe that so readily.”
He sighed, and for once I thought he might actually mean the emotion he displayed. “Maru Deep survives off its close association with the sea,” he told me. “It’s not demon fighting, but it’s not an easy life either. Even on its calm and peaceful days, the sea will kill you, and its rewards are buried deeper than veins of precious ore. Some, though born there, never find their sea stance, always left reeling by the relentless pitch of the waves.” His very genuine grimace made me sure he was speaking of himself now. “All that just to capture tiny, stinking fish that you must use to catch larger, more stinking fish, and at the end all you have is a lot of stinking fish.”
I tilted my head. “Were we speaking of demons, sir?”
His eyes narrowed, and I thought maybe he preferred the my lording as much as he professed he was no noble. “The haloria may speak of weaving the beauty of the light everlasting, but I see just another sea where we are endlessly tossed across the waves if we are lucky—or if not, falling into a fathomless dark that has no place for us. We cast our bloody chum upon the waters or set our finest nets and deepest hooks, and we try to survive between the storms. Let the king fight for his glory, the haloria for our auras, and the prince for his impossible redemption. The rest of us know we can’t trust that we’ll make it through the day.”
I didn’t answer him. How could I? I had faith enough to last through the rest of the night, but with the Devouring tomorrow night… What could save us this time?
No’Maru stepped back, opening a path for my escape. But I lingered. “You knew about the luminarci from the island beyond Maru Deep,” I blurted. The thought had come to me out of nowhere, bubbling up from beneath the surface like one of his stinky little fish. Part of me was always watching others, and somehow I’d sensed his lack of surprise. Now, when he flinched almost imperceptibly, I knew my guess was right. I held back a curse. “Why didn’t you say anything? Has it been tried before? What happened that time?”
Even before my questions ran out, he’d regained control of his expression. “Between battles, I taught myself to read in that library,” he said. “Mikhalthe and Aric hadn’t even been born yet. I stumbled upon a reference such as you mentioned. Although I never found a name to put to it, I’d hoped to make a name for myself with the discovery. But Kalima was never receptive to anything that might threaten the haloria’s oversight and control of auric power as laid out in the Lyrac Accords. The only other person I knew who had practical experience with weaponized auras was the woman bound to the dragon at that time. And she was…difficult in her own way. So I kept the possibility to myself.”
For a moment, I was distracted by the reminder that there’d been others bound to the dragon between Ormonde and Aric. Of course there had been; I just hadn’t really considered that unbroken line of very broken people going back to the first king of the Living Lands three hundred years ago. Of his own volition, Ormonde had lured the dragon out of the Living Lands, cut it loose from the horde, and tamed it. Had all the others been like Aric, tortured innocents, sacrificed to the beast?
I dragged my focus back to the present. “So why didn’t you talk to the prince about it when he inherited the dragon?”
No’Maru gave me a disbelieving look. “Because Aric is worse.”
That shut me up again, even though I wanted to argue.
The king’s advisor shook his head. “I know you don’t trust me, and why should you? But I was fighting for the Living Lands before you were born too.”
“So why are things worse?”
We’d squared off when he stepped aside, but now he turned, just a bit, as if acknowledging the hit, and a hint of bitterness tinged his reply, though it wasn’t an answer. “May you have better luck with it.”
“It won’t be luck,” I shot back. “I should think a lightkeep-named commoner like you would know that.”
I was already backing away, just in case he didn’t like my reply any better than I’d liked his, but he only gave me a cynical smile. “Come find me when that fire runs cold.”
He strode off, leaving me staring after him. I’ll find you, Aric had promised.
Come find me sounded like a taunt.
Hustling away, just to put distance between us lest no’Maru decide he was less about finding than keeping, I tried to decide where my efforts should best be aimed. Likely I wouldn’t be allowed in the treasury with the prince and the king, and my aura felt particularly besmirched at the moment, so no point in moping around my Chosen lady.
Might as well go save Imbril.
Since the lors had their own guard and their own staff and servants, as well as their own supplicants come to the High Keep for spiritual guidance and restoration, they occupied an entire tower of their own.
It was, not surprisingly, a white tower.
Having seen part of it when we’d been summoned to Dyania’s tribunal, I wasn’t quite as overawed by the pristine, shining tile. The headache was just as bad, though, even if I squinted. Now if I were numinlor, where would I keep a young, foolish, infatuated, possibly disloyal holy man?
A spurt of legitimate fear shivered through me on Imbril’s behalf. I didn’t appreciate his tone much of the time. He was too unworldly to be very useful but too learned to be discarded summarily, and his yaxen eyes for Ani were an embarrassment, but he didn’t deserve to have his tongue cut out or anything like that, as Kalima had threatened Aric. Would the other lors defend him against their superior? If they found him as annoying as I did, maybe not. But wouldn’t justness and righteousness be on his side?
I wondered how much justness and righteousness were like fairness. In which case, poor little lor.
Hoping that Kalima wouldn’t simply murder Imbril and call it a mercy as she had with Gryner, I tried to guess what the next most obvious punishment would be. Whipping and stockade seemed messy and public in the way that the numinlor wouldn’t appreciate even for a lesser lor on her council, and anyway, she seemed to prefer threats to action so what would a lor fear most of all?
With sudden certainty, I directed my steps toward the outer wall of the haloric tower where the dawn well was located, accessible to blessed folk and other High Keep inhabitants alike. Kalima would threaten Imbril not with toungelessness—as much as that would horrify him, I was sure—but with damnation.
Mid-day was a quiet time for guilt. Most sins pricked their sinners in the earlier or later hours. So the temple of the well was empty—except for one gray-clad form bowed before the collection of gently gleaming candles. The candles were protected by high sheaths of multihued glass so the flames burned unbothered despite the mountain draughts, the colors reflecting like a captive rainbow in the clear water.
As I inched closer, I heard the words, “…To illuminate the shadows in my heart, immolate all doubts and hesitation, reignite my guttering faith in the amaranthine light everlasting…”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. All Imbril had done was what he was told to do, so it seemed thoroughly unfair to punish him for it now. Maybe there was some extra stubby candle he could burn down to cure himself of an excessive deference to authority.
Warily, I glanced around to make sure I hadn’t missed any hidden lors or guards keeping watch over the penitent Imbril. But we were alone except for whatever old bones were kept in the shrines decorating the alcoves in the walls. My fingers twitched at the sight of them, all golden and jewel encrusted, but I assumed they wouldn’t betray us.
