Retribution, p.42
Retribution, page 42
Lyra shrugged, smiling pleasantly. “Of course, Regent Leywin. I am only trying to help.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Gideon asked, looking around at all of us. “Emily, go find me a dwarf. Arthur, you get the hell out of here so you don’t contaminate my experiment.”
“So, what next?” Regis asked from where he was curled up at my feet at the end of the hallway.
It had been some time since either of us had spoken, and I had to collect the wayward shreds of my attention before replying. “After this second test?”
“No, after all that. We’ve mostly taken back the continent, broken Kezess’s limitation placed on the Lances, and now given spellforms to Dicathen to help even the odds in any future battles. But a couple of white core mages and a few magical tattoos aren’t going to defeat Agrona.”
I leaned back against the wall and let the back of my head rest against the cool stone. “Strategic provisioning of the spellforms may not defeat Agrona, but it will allow us to rapidly provide power boosts where they are needed and add a lot of new tools to our repertoire, you know that.” I thought for a few seconds. “Any one of the steps we take might be what allows for victory in the end, but I understand that you and I have other things to do. Seris is fighting a war for us in Alacrya, and there are two more ruins to hunt down.”
I left unsaid the problem that loomed over everything else, the one I had done my best to keep to the back of my mind ever since Sylvie’s sacrifice and my appearance in the Relictombs…because I still had no idea what I could do about Cecilia and Tessia.
Regis lapsed into silence, and together, we waited for Emily’s return.
It took longer than Gideon would have liked to recruit a second test subject whom I’d had no interaction with. There was some worry that even incidental contact, such as my speaking to the guards out in the hallway, would sway the results, and most of the guards and soldiers in the Earthborn Institute had crossed my path at least once or twice.
But the real delay was that, when Skarn Earthborn discovered what Emily was asking about, he insisted on informing his uncle, Carnelian, about the tests so that the dwarven lord could voice his opinion. This inevitably became a struggle between the Earthborns and Silvershales to send forth a member of their house, but most had spent hours in close proximity to me during meetings with the Council of Lords.
But eventually, after what felt like many hours but was probably only one, Emily returned with a young dwarf lord called Daymor Silvershale, youngest son of Lord Daglun, Carnelian’s chief rival. Daymor kept his pitch-black beard trimmed to only a few inches and his hair slightly shorter. He looked every bit the royal as he appeared in a regally tailored tunic and breeches, with rings on his fingers and a gold-hilted sword hanging at his hip.
I, of course, only watched from the end of the hallway with Regis at my side. Daymor met my eye before following Emily into the bestowal chamber, and his lips twitched beneath his beard. I thought he looked nervous, and he grew even more so when the two guards and attendant who had trailed him down into these deep tunnels were made to wait outside in the corridor.
Although I could not watch the process, a fact I found somewhat disappointing, I listened to the muffled voices of Gideon, Emily, and Lyra explaining everything that was to happen. Still, I consoled myself with the fact that I had seen the bestowment ceremony before, in Maerin, and knew what was happening.
The ceremony itself took much less time than finding our test subject.
When the door opened again, the three dwarves were quick to hurry in. I followed behind, curious but hopeful. There had been no panicked shouts to indicate we had just killed off a member of the noble house of Silvershale, and indeed, when I peered through the door, I saw Daymor grinning as he rubbed at the bare flesh of his back.
He tried to turn around to look over his shoulder, as if he might be able to see his own spine, while Gideon shooed the other dwarves to the outer edges of the small room.
“Now, feel for the rune, and push your mana into it. It should feel natural, instinctual,” Lyra was saying.
Daymor turned his nose up at her and spit on the ground. “Like I said, I don’t take orders from Alacryan filth, and especially not the Bitch Queen of Etistin.”
“That’s enough, Daymor,” I said firmly. “What we are doing is important, and Lyra of Highblood Dreide is here at my order.”
The dwarf attempted to scowl at me, but his wide eyes and the twitching of a muscle beneath his beard gave away just how frightened he was. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and said, “Aye, let’s get on with it then. This bloody thing itches like the dickens.”
Gideon sucked his teeth in irritation. “Fine, then perhaps you’ll listen to me. Stay within the circle and empower the spellform.”
Daymor followed Gideon’s instructions, settling himself in the center of the protection circle and taking a deep breath, making his broad chest swell.
Lyra had fallen back to stand beside me. “Thank you,” she said under her breath. “For defending me.”
“I wasn’t,” I said, also keeping my voice low. “But it will grow awfully tedious if every conversation has to wait for a string of expletives to be thrown at you first.”
Lyra didn’t answer, and so I returned my focus to Daymor, quietly activating Realmheart so I could watch the flow of mana. Like with Gideon, it poured from Daymor’s core and down into his rune, but this time the resultant spell flowed down his legs and into the ground.
Thin fissures cracked the ground inside of the protection circle, and wispy flames erupted from them. I could see the fine line where the protection circle’s runes rebuffed the flow of the mana, preventing the spell from affecting anything outside it.
“Fire, my lord!” the attendant said, clearly shocked.
Daymor laughed, a booming noise like a cannon. “Ah, but it feels strange. Good, but strange!”
All in all, it was not an impressive spell, but I knew Daymor was a single-attribute earth mage. The mark had granted him the ability to cast a spell of a different type than his natural affinity; that alone was a great boon for a Dicathian mage. It was certainly something his father could crow about in the Council of Lords meetings for the foreseeable future, especially as Daymor’s mastery of the rune grew.
As Emily and Gideon began explaining to Daymor what was expected of him—daily training and monitoring, reports on how the spellform impacted his magic, and so forth—I let my thoughts drift to the next question. Gideon would want to do a third test, of course. This time with someone who I had spent a significant amount of time with…
Although the list was short, that did not make it easy. Who had I spent enough time with since returning to Dicathen?
The better question, I thought to myself, is who among that short list am I willing to put at risk?
408
THE BEST CHOICE
ELEANOR LEYWIN
As I heard the dwarves’ excited murmuring grow louder, I slipped deeper into the shadows of the room where I’d hidden. The guards farther down the hall hadn’t moved from their positions in front of Gideon’s laboratory, but they had cracked open the lab door to try and eavesdrop on the excitement below, which worked in my favor.
With my beast will active, I had been able to listen in as Daymor Silvershale received his bestowal. The increased sensitivity not only picked up sound from farther away but translated the subtle vibration of their movements and mana usage up through the stone into sensation as well.
Daymor and three other dwarves burst out into the hall a moment later, chattering like a bunch of teenage girls in the shopping district.
“Ah, I can’t wait to see old man Earthborn’s face when he gets a load of my new power,” Daymor was saying. “And my older brothers’ as well. How they’ve lorded their attendance of the council meetings over my head. Well, let’s see who has something to crow about now!”
Another voice was quick to add, “A dual-elemental augmenter, the first in three generations of Silvershales. Your father will be ecstatic, sir.”
Their conversation meant little to me, and so, despite the fact that I could have continued to listen to them for at least a couple of minutes, even as they moved farther and farther away, I instead tried to block out the noise and focus on my brother and those with him—Gideon, Emily Watsken, and a woman I thought must be the retainer he had captured, Lyra—who were once again shut up in a chamber below me. I had to focus through two doors and ten feet of solid stone, but if I held my breath, I could just make out the weak vibrations of their conversation.
“How are you feeling?” my brother was asking Emily.
“Fine, just need a moment’s rest,” came her faint reply.
“Give her an hour or two, at least, before attempting the ritual again,” said the retainer.
Gideon’s reply was louder than the others. “But I need a third data point or what we’ve seen so far is worthless! Someone who Arthur has spent a lot of time around, the most time around, hours and hours. No middle ground or close enough, it needs to be—”
“Gideon, quit activating your spellform,” my brother said, his tone both exasperated and resigned.
The funny old artificer cleared his throat and mumbled something I didn’t catch, because at the same time, something heavy fell to the ground a few floors above, and a deep dwarven voice cursed.
I shifted position, keeping one eye on the open doorway into this room as I leaned closer to the ground, attempting to hear better.
“I need to think, and Emily needs to rest,” my brother said, speaking firmly.
“Fine, fine, but don’t take all day. Make your choice and bring them here this afternoon,” Gideon demanded.
They said their farewells, and I heard Regis’s claws scraping on stone as they began moving in my direction.
I cast a quick glance around the room where I was hidden, which was just down the hall from Gideon’s laboratory. It looked like a disused classroom of sorts, full of dwarf-sized desks, empty shelves, and a few soot-stained tables. Where the door used to be was now just an open frame. As near as I could tell, I was pretty close to being right over the chamber where Gideon had been running his experiments.
Arthur and his companion moved in silence, but I knew they could communicate without speaking. I wondered what they were talking about…or perhaps who they were talking about.
They needed someone my brother had spent a lot of time around—been close to—for the next stage of their experiment…
I immediately and absolutely wanted it to be me. Not because I wanted an Alacryan rune—or a spellform, as Gideon and Arthur referred to them as—although a sudden boost to my power and clarification of my core did sound good. But what I really wanted was to be involved, to be helpful. Between the long journey through the desert together, our training and meditation, meals and even sleeping in the same space, I couldn’t think of anyone who would have spent more time with him, not even Mom.
But I also knew right away that he wouldn’t want to put me at risk.
So, I just need to convince him I’m the only choice, I thought, steeling myself for the task.
I watched Arthur and the big shadow wolf pass by from where I was carefully hidden behind a larger table, but I didn’t come out right away. Instead, I focused on their footsteps, waiting until they were far ahead to follow. The hall was clear except for the two guards, and if I stayed against the far wall, I could use the support columns that ribbed the otherwise smooth walls of the corridor to stay out of their line of sight, just like I had when I sneaked down here to begin with. The guards were focused on themselves anyway, chatting animatedly about Daymor Silvershale and what Gideon’s experiments would mean for Vildorial.
With my beast will still active, I was sensitive to even the slightest noise, especially my own, which helped me to creep along in utter silence. I didn’t think I’d get in trouble just for being down in these tunnels, but I didn’t want Arthur to know I had been spying on him after he ran out in such a rush. He’d be upset with me and say that I constantly disregarded my own safety and took unnecessary risks, completely oblivious to how hypocritical he sounded giving lectures.
I forced myself to stop from going down this mental path. I needed to be thinking about how I was going to convince him to let me participate in Gideon’s experiment.
Arthur had been moving slowly, no doubt deep in thought and in no rush, but I had to assume he was heading home. Taking a slightly longer route back, I moved quickly and quietly, using my heightened senses to avoid crossing paths with any of the guards, mages, or other residents who frequented these tunnels.
Instead of going inside, however, I leaned against the wall next to the door and waited. When, a couple minutes later, I heard the telltale scraping of claws, I released my beast will and carefully arranged my features into an innocent smile.
When Arthur stepped around the corner, I gave him a little wave and said, “Everything okay down there?”
Arthur stopped, his surprise reading clearly on his face. “Yeah, it wasn’t an emergency. What are you doing out here?”
“Waiting for you,” I said honestly, digging the toe of my turnshoe into the floor. “You were gone for a while.”
“Gideon,” he said by way of explanation, and I smiled.
Arthur leaned against the wall opposite me in the squat hallway and watched me silently. I felt guilt prickle into goosebumps on the backs of my arms as I thought about how best to convince him to choose me without giving away my spying expedition.
“What’s wrong?” he asked after a moment.
“What? Nothing,” I said in a rush, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.
His eyes narrowed, and then his expression softened. “How much did you hear?”
I opened my mouth, and he cocked a brow. Instead of trying to lie, I let out a gusting breath. “How did you know?”
“Your guilt might as well be written across your forehead in ink,” he said, chuckling.
I groaned, pulling the hair I’d just fixed down in front of my face to hide my eyes. “Sorry, I just…”
He waved my apology away. “I get it. It’s okay.”
Despite his forgiveness, the silence that fell between us felt sour and awkward. “I want to help with the bestowment trial,” I forced out.
He nodded seriously. There was no surprised smirk or disbelieving laugh, which made me feel better. He really seemed to be considering it. Then he said, “I’ve already decided on Jasmine. She’s older and more battle-tested and has spent nearly as much time with me as you have.”
I had anticipated this answer, but I remained silent.
Regis, who had been pacing up and down the hall as we talked, stopped. “Plus, I lived in her core for a few days. That might make a difference, too.”
“When I was in camp with all those Alacryans, some of them were really young,” I pointed out, bringing up the counterargument I had prepared. “They get their first bestowals really early, right? I’m a lot younger than Jasmine, closer to the age a bestowment should happen.”
“Point, Ellie,” Regis said as his head turned from me to Arthur then back.
“It’s not just about you being my sister,” Arthur said, pushing away from the wall and taking a step closer. “The truth is you have a lot of variables Jasmine doesn’t. You’re a pure mana mage with no elemental affinity, you’re a beast tamer, and you have djinn ancestry. Variables mean danger in this case, El.”
“Still, I…” I trailed off, unsure how to respond. I didn’t have an argument against the points he made, only felt sure that, despite the risks, I was the best choice.
“Why are you so insistent on this?” Arthur asked, inspecting me carefully with those bright gold eyes. “This isn’t the only chance you’ll get. Once the process has been tested thoroughly, you’ll get your turn, I promise.”
“You can’t understand,” I said in the direction of my feet. Tension crept into my shoulders and neck, and the instinct to bury what I was feeling made speaking difficult. “You don’t have to cower with your mother every time retainers or Scythes come knocking, telling yourself you’re protecting her when both of you know full well that you can’t, that you’re useless against that kind of enemy…” I turned away from Arthur, staring blindly down the empty corridor leading away from our rooms. “It’s just…so frustrating, to feel so helpless…”
I rested my head against the wall and let out a long breath like a sigh. I could feel Arthur’s gaze burning into the side of my face, but I didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to see pity or disapproval or disappointment.
There was a groan of hinges, and my mother’s voice said, “You should choose Ellie.”
I whipped around to look at Mom, slack-jawed with surprise at her intervention. Even if I convinced Arthur, I had expected to have the fight all over again with her.
Arthur seemed just as caught off guard, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly but didn’t respond.
“You heard everything?” I asked her.
She gave me a wry smile. “You’re not exactly being quiet out here.”
She watched us for a moment, sad but determined, before continuing. “We are, all of us, in constant danger. Maybe taking risks is the only way forward. Maybe…we’ve been too cautious, too willing to let you protect us. But there is no way to know when one of our many enemies will appear and rain hellfire down on us. You might not be here when they do—if our enemy is wise, he’ll make sure of it. But it seems like this might be a way to help us prepare, and if your sister is the best choice of test subject, then so be it.” There was something haunted and forlorn in her eyes, a tired weariness that nearly broke my heart to see.
Biting my trembling bottom lip, I stared down at the ground, wordless.
“All I ever wanted—even before the war, before any of this started—was the power to protect you guys,” Arthur said, his voice low and sad. I glanced up at him, but his face was hidden behind a curtain of wheat-blond hair. “I guess even now, after everything that has happened, I couldn’t,” he finished, his chin tilting up to reveal a pained smile.
