Retribution, p.35
Retribution, page 35
“Ooh,” Regis whispered before I shot a glare at him.
Curtis, arm still blazing, pointed a fiery finger at me. “Arthur, what’s the meaning of this? Why did you bring us here? Why isn’t this creature’s head on a spike already?”
I pushed away from the bookshelf and closed the distance to Curtis. Reaching out, I rested one hand on his upper arm—the arm that was burning. Golden flames danced between my fingers. He kept the conjured flames in place for a breath, two, then suddenly they vanished, leaving the room feeling much darker and less warm.
“Because, at least for the moment, we need her.” Curtis opened his mouth to argue, but I kept speaking. “This city is in shambles. I need a strong hand to help lift the people of Etistin back up, to provide leadership and security after the Alacryans are gone.”
“You want us to lead the city,” Kathyln said, one eye on me, the other on Lyra.
“You know the city, the people. Your name means something here, carries a natural authority.” I released Curtis’s arm. “There is a lot of rebuilding to be done. I trust you to do it.”
Curtis glowered around the study, his eyes focusing anywhere but me or Lyra Dreide. “What about the Alacryans? Rumor is you’re sending them all beyond the Wall.”
“Yes, I—”
Lyra Dreide cleared her throat again and gave me a smile simultaneously apologetic and yet very much not so. “As I tried to suggest before, I don’t believe sending so many Alacryan soldiers across the entire breadth of the continent to forage off your Beast Glades is the only—or the wisest—course of action, Regent.”
Curtis’s neck and cheeks flushed red. “Who said you could speak, demon?”
Such brazenness, I thought, almost amused. “What do you suggest then?”
Curtis’s teeth ground together as he glared at me, shocked.
Lyra hesitated a moment, apparently waiting to see if the Glayders were going to interrupt her, then said, “We have many ships in the bay. Allow any Alacryan—or Dicathian—who wishes it to depart for Alacrya immediately. We have surrendered. It would be a sign of good faith, and a sound strategic decision as well, as the journey is a long one. Any soldiers who spend the next month at sea can’t be used against you, but they are also safe from the High Sovereign’s wrath as well.”
“A sign of good faith?” Curtis sputtered, but Kathyln took his hand and squeezed it firmly, silencing him.
“And…” Lyra started but immediately paused.
“Go on.”
“I would suggest that anyone who renounces their service to the High Sovereign be allowed to stay in Dicathen.” She raised her chin as Curtis scoffed, her lavender eyes looking down her nose into the deep brown wells of his. “Many of these men and women have been here for over a year, Lord Glayder. They have homes, families—”
“Bullshit,” Curtis snapped. “As if any Dicathian would willingly form a family with an Alacryan. What you mean is our people have been forced into slavery, sold off, their homes and lives stolen—”
“No,” Lyra said firmly. “In fact, the High Sovereign forbids such things. Our culture values purity of blood, and the Sovereigns were firm in their insistence that there be no intermingling of Dicathian and Alacryan blood.” She smiled, and there was a wicked sort of gleam in her eye. “But the Sovereigns are a long way away, and love is a strange and powerful thing.”
“Love?” Curtis ground out. “As if the conquered can ever fall in love with the conqueror, except by force and fear.”
“You may have lived the last year in a hole in the ground, Lord Glayder, but I have not,” Lyra said sharply. “You will see for yourself soon enough.”
“Perhaps,” Kathyln said to Lyra, but she was looking at me. “I admit I’m uncomfortable with the retainer’s suggestion. Ships full of soldiers could just as easily circle the continent and attack from another direction. Or bide their time off the coast until the next major attack, then we would be dealing with a conflict on multiple fronts. If more of those Wraiths were to come…”
She made a good point. I understood the intention of Lyra’s plan, and it would be much easier to board the soldiers on boats than transport them all the way to the Wall, but that meant we were giving Agrona back several thousand warriors.
I glanced at Jasmine, who had been silent throughout the encounter. She only shrugged.
I found myself agreeing with Lyra’s judgment, but I was still wary of simply making decrees and expecting everyone to jump in line and follow orders. “The three of you will be working together on this. Lyra has surrendered, but her suggestions aren’t without value. However we proceed, everyone should be in agreement.”
There was a tense pause. Curtis turned to Kathyln, who held my gaze.
“I believe we should do as the retainer has suggested,” she said at length.
I expected Curtis to argue with her, but he seemed to be forcing himself to relax, releasing his balled fists and taking a deep breath. “If we’re going to allow Alacryans to stay, we should at least imprison them for a while…thirty days, if not more.”
Lyra frowned.
Kathyln’s brows rose as she considered her brother. “That will allow the…families some separation, to ensure any such agreements are truly mutual, and protect both the people of Dicathen and the Alacryan soldiers. It’s a good compromise.”
A ripple of force disturbed the air in the study, casting a palpable veil over everything and causing us all to turn in the direction it had come from.
“What in the—” Curtis muttered, his hand on his sword.
“So much mana…” Lyra said, her eyes widening.
I quickly activated Realmheart, and a smile slowly bloomed on my face as I recognized the signature.
I started for the door with Regis close behind, then stopped suddenly and turned to face the Glayders. “This should go without saying, but Lyra Dreide is my prisoner. For the time being, she will stay here and help you with the arrangements. I expect her to remain unharmed.” My focus shifted to the retainer. “When I return, I’ll decide her fate. Depending, of course, on how helpful she has been in that time.”
Three sets of eyes blinked at me uncertainly, but I knew I couldn’t spend more time lingering in Etistin. The next phase of the war was already beginning.
I pushed open the door and headed for the main gates, Jasmine a quiet shadow just behind me.
Once we were out of earshot of the study, I stopped.
“What’s up?” Jasmine asked as I turned toward her.
I gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I need to do this next part alone.”
She shrugged. “I figured.”
Then, thinking to Regis, I added, I need you to stay here as well. To keep an eye on Lyra. Stay out of sight and watch her. My gut tells me we can trust her sense of self-preservation, but I won’t risk the Glayders’ lives on that alone.
I felt Regis’s disappointment and frustration bleeding through our link. ‘I don’t know about this, Art.’
This is important, Regis. I don’t know Lyra, but I know Kezess. I won’t be in danger.
He sighed before turning to Jasmine. “I know this is weird, but do I have your consent to hide within the meat puppet you call a body?”
A shiver ran down her back as her red eyes widened with disbelief. “W-what…?”
I rolled my eyes and would have kicked Regis, except he’d already become incorporeal. “He’s going to stay behind to keep everyone safe, but I want him out of sight. Lyra shouldn’t know he’s here.”
Jasmine took a moment to compose herself, straightening her armor and smoothing the shocked expression from her features. “Whatever needs to be done.”
Without a sound, Regis vanished into Jasmine. Her jaw tightened, and she clenched her teeth as the ball of aether that was Regis hovered around her core.
“So weird,” she ground out.
‘Hey, it’s not much better for me, okay?’ Regis thought, but by her lack of reaction, I assumed Jasmine couldn’t hear him.
“Stay safe. I shouldn’t be gone long,” I said. And you mind your manners, I thought to Regis.
Then I was marching through the palace again, now alone.
Outside, I found a roughly oval disc of opaque energy hanging before us. Shouts rose up from the palace as the few people who had snuck out to see what was happening rushed away from the area.
A blinding white silhouette appeared, stepping through the portal.
The portal faded, revealing a man with platinum-blond hair in a dark military-style uniform, and his otherworldly eyes—each one like a window into a distant galaxy—settled on me.
“Arthur Leywin. It has been some time.”
“It’s about damn time,” I replied conversationally. “I wasn’t sure he would send you considering everything.”
Windsom’s expression remained placid. “I am Lord Indrath’s envoy to this world. And as such, I am here to fetch you.” Mana hardened into a shimmering set of stairs that led up to the portal. “Come, Arthur. Lord Indrath would speak with you.”
I gave a throaty chuckle. “Yeah, I’m sure he would.”
403
A MATCH FOR MY TALENTS
NICO SEVER
Something heavy was grabbing me, pinning me down. And it was dark, all so dark. Wetness clung to me, slicking my bare skin, while something soft was pressing against me like the tongue of a giant creature, giving life and texture to the sickly-sweet onion smell sticking to everything.
I thrashed suddenly, certain that I was being devoured. A heavy blanket, which had been draped across my face, slid off the side of the bed and onto the floor.
I gasped, sucking in cold air that made me sputter and cough. Rolling onto my side, I meant to hang my head over the edge of the bed in case I got sick.
I wasn’t alone.
Standing at the foot of the bed, now staring down at me with a look of disgust, was Agrona. Cecilia lingered next to him, her expression caught between nervousness, dismay, and embarrassment.
“I’ll take my leave then,” Agrona said, his ruby eyes turning on Cecilia. “No more delays, Cecil dear. You leave in the morning.”
“Yes, High Sovereign,” Cecilia said as she bowed deeply. “I’m ready.”
My thoughts moved like molasses as I struggled to understand what the two were saying. A spark cut through the sluggishness, however, bringing me back to the last thing I remembered. “The regalia…” My tongue was thick and unwieldy, my mouth desert-dry. I moistened my lips and tried again. “What happened during the bestowal?”
Agrona gave me an unreadable look, then stepped closer and rested his hand on the top of my head. I felt a thrill at the contact, but bitterness immediately oozed up, a counterpoint to the initial emotional response. Am I a hound that wags its tail at any sign of affection from its distant master?
“As usual, Nico,” Agrona said, his voice vibrating in my chest, “you have managed to fail in the most incredible fashion.” He didn’t sneer the words. They weren’t filled with bitterness or insult. It was said simply, a statement of fact. “I had hoped perhaps your recent experiences would instill in you the sort of drive which you have always lacked. But alas, this new regalia is a perfect match for your talents.”
His hand pulled away, and his brows rose a fraction of an inch in a silent question: Do you have anything to say about that, idiot boy? When I didn’t reply, I seemed to confirm something Agrona had expected, because he nodded his head, then marched away, the ornaments in his horns jangling slightly.
When the door clicked shut, Cecilia hurried forward to the edge of my bed, sinking down to her knees and pushing sweat-damp hair from my eyes. “Oh, Nico. Are you okay? You’ve been unconscious for a whole day.”
I rolled onto my back and focused on breathing so I didn’t vomit in front of her. “Fine.”
Her graceful fingers laced into mine, and she rested her head on the mattress and watched me silently.
“Agrona said you’re leaving,” I ventured after a couple minutes of silence. “Where is he sending you?”
She sat up, releasing my hand to brush a strand of gunmetal gray hair out of her face as she did so. “I’m to lead the assault on Sehz-Clar. Agrona wants me to put on a show of force to assure this rebellion doesn’t spread.”
I closed my eyes and bit back the bitter words that leapt to my tongue. It was the news I had been expecting, and yet I was still having trouble drawing breath. “You sound…pleased.”
I heard Cecilia shuffle as she got to her feet, then the mattress shifted. I opened my eyes again to find her sitting next to me.
“Of course I’m pleased,” she said, frowning. “I’ve been training for this since I was brought to this world. It’s finally a chance for me to prove to Agrona that I’m worth everything he’s given me—us.” She met my eyes and held them. “This is how we earn our lives back, Nico.”
I swallowed hard. My tongue felt swollen, and I was suddenly afraid I might choke on it.
She leaned in closer, still staring deep into my eyes. “But I’m not going anywhere without you. So rest up, all right? I’ll be back in the morning, and then, we’re going to kill a traitor.”
With a big smile gracing her gorgeous face, Cecilia ran her fingers through my hair, then jumped off my bed. She stopped to look back from the doorway. “Oh, I almost forgot.”
From a pouch, she withdrew the slightly rough sphere of the dragon’s mana core. “I don’t think Agrona would have been very happy if he’d found this. You need to be more careful.” Despite the admonishment, she smiled as she set the sphere next to me. Then, with a quick wave, she was gone.
I blew out a gusting, frustrated breath. “Shit.”
A few hours…that was all the time I had to get ready. Cecilia was going to war. And I’d be right beside her, protecting her.
A dark laugh bubbled up unbidden from within me. “How exactly am I going to do that?”
I let my eyes drift shut again.
And then shot upright as if on a spring. “Idiot,” I cursed myself, jumping out of bed.
Mana poured out of my weakened core, empowering the new regalia that rested across my spine just below my shoulder blades. I didn’t know what to expect, which was an odd sensation in itself. Normally, the officiants would explain the runes, but from what little I could pull from my foggy memory, they hadn’t known what my regalia was.
It was something new.
Something that matches my talents, I thought bitterly, the words sounding in Agrona’s voice.
The light of my chambers shifted as the regalia activated. It was a subtle thing, hardly noticeable at first, like clouds slowly creeping in overhead while the lighting artifacts activated in the street.
I followed these new points of brightness as I scanned the room. The walls, floor, ceiling, furniture—everything mundane within the room—seemed dull and shadowy, while the lighting artifacts glowed more brightly. There was a subtle shine to the metal knob and lock of my door, but, curiously, no glow at all from the dragon core.
I picked the sphere up and rolled it around in my hand, inspecting it from multiple angles, but it was dim and dark. This seemed strange to me since something as small and inconsequential as the Imbued quill on my writing desk burned in my altered perception, as did the sending parchment I’d collected for ordering some of the materials for my new artifact.
As my mind touched upon the staff, I hurried to the door into my workspace and opened it. Inside, it was much the same, except there, all the items arrayed across my workbench glowed with various potency.
It was more than a visible sensation, though. I could feel them, almost as if they were connected to me—and to each other. Each magic item, and even those that were not yet magical but had the capacity for being Imbued, stood out to my senses.
Glowing most brightly of all in this altered form of perception was the charwood branch itself, inset with a single fitting. The silver metal of the fitting was dull against the bright black wood. On the table, set aside for further experimentation, was a collection of different fittings molded from a different alloy. These burned brightly.
Curious, I set down the core and picked up a fitting. Nothing changed. As I moved it closer to the twisted branch, however, both sources of this connection shifted, but the change was less a glow and more a vibration. There was something shared between them, an attunement…
And then, with a crashing, world-shifting realization, I knew what my regalia did, and a wide grin broke across my face. “Something that matches my talents indeed.”
Grabbing the specialized carving tool in one hand and holding the staff’s base firmly in the other, I set to work, knowing I had only a few hours to make myself ready.
The sun’s light had only barely turned the horizon gray-blue behind the distant mountains when a knock came at my door. I ignored it at first, so engrossed in my work I had forgotten the reason for its urgency. The knock came again, louder and more insistent, and time and space coalesced inside my mind, bringing me back to reality.
“Come in,” I shouted from the workbench, certain Cecilia had come to collect me for our mission to Sehz-Clar.
The door opened, then closed again, and I heard her soft footfalls cross to the inner door. “I’m sorry, Nico, I—where are your clothes? Have you rested at all?”
I looked down at myself.
When I’d woken after the bestowal, I had been stripped down to my briefs. Only now did I realize I had been so engrossed by my regalia and the artifact I was creating that I hadn’t even dressed myself.
“Here, look at this,” I told her, too excited to care about any of that.
Grabbing her hand, I pulled Cecilia to the workbench and grinned proudly down at my creation.
Where a twisting branch had lain before, now there was a smooth and polished staff of purest black. The head of the staff flared outward subtly, and where it widened, four gems had been inset into the charwood.
