Book 3: Chapter Seventeen

Hildra finally looked up from her intense examination of the sword, removing the strange eyepiece she’d worn. The black faded from her eyes as she ended her arcane sight spell. “There is a warding spell outside of the attunement,” she said, “but not for wardens. It’s looking for a specific type of mage.”

“What do you mean?” Corec asked.

“Some arcane mages have a natural affinity for certain spells. Even wizards, who can learn any spell they want, will build up that sort of affinity over time if they focus on a specific area. There’s no way for me to see what it’s looking for, but it’s looking for something. Whatever your affinity is, apparently.”

“A friend told me I’m something like a battle wizard.”

“That makes sense,” Hildra said. “It’s a sword, after all. The warding spell is the reason it reacted negatively to the people who touched it before you; they weren’t its preferred bearer. As for the other enchantments, it’s got the typical ones—strengthening the blade, always sharp, and never breaking. There’s one I don’t recognize. Has the sword ever done anything unusual?”

Corec couldn’t hold in his laugh. “Everything it does is unusual.”

“I mean beyond the behaviors you’ve described.”

“I can’t think of anything else.”

“Then be careful with it. If you don’t know what it can do, it might be dangerous. I won’t try to replicate it without knowing.”

“Replicate?”

Hildra tapped her wrist bands together and a shimmering barrier formed around her. She then held out her arm and a curved backsword flew off the wall toward her, the hilt thumping into her hand. A pale purple light slowly limned the blade. “For my own work,” she said. She swished the sword back and forth through the air, leaving behind glowing purple streaks. “Don’t touch the light—it’s sharp. Quite useful when you’re ambushed by a dozen footpads who don’t realize the blade can still cut them half a minute after you swing it. I found this enchantment on a dagger almost two thousand years ago, and liked it so much, I copied it for myself.”

Corec could only stare at the sight. “Someone told me nobody knew how to create permanent enchantments anymore,” he said.

Hildra smirked. “Every warden has their own gift. Have you discovered yours yet?”

The First had mentioned gifts too, when he was discussing how he’d found Corec in a dream.

“Uhh, no. I don’t think so.”

“You will in time. As for your sword, you say it was found in the Storm Heights? That’s in northeastern Aravor, yes?”

“Yes, north of Tyrsall.”

Hildra nodded. “It’s ancient work. How long has it been since the sword had another bearer?”

“Thousands of years, easily,” Corec said. With Hildra being a warden, he decided to be more forthcoming than he’d been before. “It was in the ruins of a place called Tir Navis.”

“From the name, that must be a Chosar city? Not many civilizations could have created something like this. The Chosar. The first peoples. Perhaps one or two others.”

“I thought the Chosar were the first peoples.”

“Modern historians consider them to be one tribe among many, and perhaps they were, but I’ve seen two different sources from before the Burning that suggested the Chosar drove the other tribes out of the Tirs.”

“Could I see those? My friends would be interested in that.”

Hildra sighed. “Unfortunately, my library burned to the ground during the rebellion that took down Queen Malda. That’s the name I went by back then. It was the rebels who first started calling me the Sorceress Queen. I started the war against myself, hoping a small bit of violence would sate the people enough that they could move on, but the rebels were angrier than I’d thought. They destroyed everything. I haven’t found any other writings from before the Burning.”

“What was the Burning? The First mentioned it too.”

“Nobody knows,” Hildra said. “We don’t even know how long ago it happened because there were so many different calendars in use. It was before Badru’s time, and he’s fairly certain he’s over four thousand years old. There was another warden before him who knew more, but he’s long dead. What we do know is that very few books and scrolls survived the Burning, and most of those were in bad shape. The Tirs were abandoned, and I suspect there was a long gap—perhaps a few hundred years—where little new writing was produced. Personally, I believe the people descended into barbarism, though I have no idea what could cause that on such a wide scale. Something involving burning, I imagine.”

The First was over four thousand years old? Corec had no idea how to react to that information. He focused on the small part of Hildra’s statement that he understood. “Not all the Tirs were abandoned,” he said. “Aencyr is Tir a Tir.”

“Tir a Tir?” Hildra asked. “What would that mean? The First Home? It sounds significant, but I don’t believe I’ve ever come across the name before. The city’s been rebuilt so many times, it’s hard to say if anything would be left from so long ago. That’s why you came here?”

“Not exactly. We’re looking for a place called Tir Yadar.”

Hildra smirked again. “The center of Chosar civilization. You’re not the first to seek it out. You think it’s in Cordaea?”

“Maybe. A friend has a possible lead, and I came to help. Do you know of anything on the other side of Silent Waters?”

“Silent what?” Hildra asked, wrinkling her brow. “Oh, Nera Athoryvos? I’ve never heard anyone translate the name before. I’ve been to the other side, but never through the swamp. I always crossed the lake or the mountains. There isn’t much directly east of the swamp—just a few independent towns before you reach the barrens.”

“Barrens?”

“It’s a wide area where not much grows. If you’re trying to cross, make sure to bring plenty of food.”

“It’s a desert?”

“Not really. It gets enough rain, but you shouldn’t travel too close to the rivers. Without any vegetation to hold the rainwater, they flood quickly. People have tried to set up farms there, but they can’t get anything worthwhile to grow. There are some shrubs and bushes that the birds like, but not much else. Plenty of old ruins, though, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Do you think Tir Yadar might be there? I’m not sure what direction we’re headed after we make it through the swamp.”

“My son’s gone in farther than I have, but he didn’t see anything that looked like it might be a city. Still, if you find it, I’d like to see it for myself.”

“I’m sure we could let you know.”

#

“Barrens?” Ellerie asked. “I don’t remember seeing anything like that on the maps.” She unrolled her own map and laid it out on the table. “East of the swamp?”

“Yes, about a hundred miles beyond the swamp and the mountains,” Corec said. “It’s a large area.” With his finger, he circled a spot that extended halfway down the eastern side of the swamp. “Hildra’s map didn’t show it either, but I think this is about where she said we’d find it.”

“All of our maps are from Nysa,” Josip mentioned. “The mapmakers here in Aencyr may have something more accurate. I’ve heard of the barrens, but I’ve never been beyond the mountains.”

“Let’s look for a better map, then,” Ellerie said. “We need to know where we’ll be leaving the swamp, and how far south the barrens extend. I don’t know if we’ll need to go through there or not.”

“Are you sure Tir Yadar is on the other side?” Marco asked. “Senshall doesn’t have any outposts east of Aencyr.”

“If Nera Athoryvos is the right swamp, then we’ll end up somewhere east of the mountains. If it’s not, we’ll have to look farther south and see if we can find that all-shrine that the book mentions. But the swamp is a better choice—it’s less likely to have changed over years.”

The factor sighed. “I suppose I can withdraw some extra coin so we can resupply on the other side, then.”

“Thank you,” Ellerie said, not wanting to antagonize the man when he was being helpful for a change. “Once we do make it across, we’ll still have farther to go, and I’m not sure how far or in which direction. The author didn’t mention the barrens, but I don’t know if that’s because the land has changed or because we’ll be going south of there.”

“Our other clues aren’t going to be of any help,” Bobo said. “Nobody knows of any notable shrines to the south, and the only winged snakes we’re likely to find are in a sanctuary just south of the city. The rest were hunted as trophies.”

“That still means we’re in the right region, though,” Ellerie pointed out. Between discovering Tir a Tir and learning of a way to end the warden bond, she was in too good of a mood to be dismayed by minor setbacks. “I just wish I knew where the swamp road ends. Or if it even still exists.”

“No one I spoke to knows of a road through the swamp,” Josip said. “Getting the horses and mules through will be a problem. We’ll need a local guide to avoid getting lost—one of the swamp people.”

“Swamp people?” Ellerie asked.

“The folks who live there. Mostly humans, but there are a few dwarves too.”

“Will you be able to talk to them?”

Josip nodded. “They speak Nysan.” He hesitated. “Uhh, there are boggarts in the swamp, too.”

“Boggarts are just children’s stories,” Marco said.

“My cousin saw one!” Josip protested. “He was in the fens east of the Bancyra Mountains, and came back to camp to find it stealing his food.”

“It was probably just a bear or a mountain lion.”

“Taking his supper right off the fire?”

“What’s a boggart?” Ellerie asked.

“They’re little creatures who live in swamps and marshes,” Josip said. “If we set out some food for them each night as a gift, and sprinkle salt around the camp, they’ll leave us alone. If we don’t, they’ll steal things—belt buckles, harness straps, bits of cloth.”

Marco rolled his eyes. “Or they’ll steal children from their beds. Or they’ll lead men to their deaths in the swamps. Or they’ll cause milk to go sour and horses to go lame. Or they’re twelve-foot tall monsters, but the only part anyone ever sees is their hands poking up out of the water.”

Josip glared at him.

Ellerie forced herself to keep a straight face. She liked Josip more than Marco, but it all sounded like superstition. “We’ll be careful,” she said. “It wouldn’t hurt to leave a little food out. Do you think we can get the horses and mules to the other side?”

“I don’t know. The swamp people mostly use rowboats to get around.”

“Let’s hope that’s not the only way. We’d have to pay to stable all the animals here, and then buy new ones when we’re across.” She ignored Marco’s wince. “We need to find out more about the road that the book mentions.”

#

“It doesn’t really work that way,” Leena said. “I can’t Seek the swamp road because I don’t know what it is. I’d need to know more about it first.” That rule didn’t always seem to apply, but, luckily, Ellerie didn’t press her on it.

The elven woman sighed. “Well, it was just a thought.”

Ellerie had become a friend, and Leena hated to disappoint her twice in a row—she hadn’t had any luck in Seeking Tir Yadar either. She had a sudden thought. “You’re worried about how to get the animals through the swamp, right?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Yes,” Ellerie said. “If we have to turn back to find a place to stable them, we could waste days or weeks.”

“What if I Seek a safe way through?”

“You can do that?”

“I can try. It’s an idea rather than a location, so it might not work, but if I can see the swamp, I may be able to do it. We’ll have to be closer, though. My Seeking range is short, and I need to see the area.”

“Thank you!” Ellerie said, then grimaced. “I’m sorry I keep bothering you about this. I know you’re more worried about those men who attacked. You’re still planning to come with us, right?”

“The Seeking is sending me in the same direction you’re going.”

“Why did your … clan? Is that the right word? Why did they choose you to go after these men? You’re not a fighter.”

“You mean my camp—my clan is all the Zidari. They didn’t send me. I came because those men killed my parents.”

Ellerie looked down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I had to do something. My brother’s a Traveler too. What if they come back?”

“What will you do if you find them?”

“If I can get better at Traveling, there are ways to fight.”

“That’s why you were looking for Yelena?”

Leena nodded. “I need help; I haven’t been able to do it on my own. But she’s back in Tyrsall, and I don’t know why the Seeking sent me this way.”

Ellerie bit her lower lip. “I think I do. And it might be the same reason the magic is keeping you with us. Corec is like Yelena.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They’re called wardens.” Ellerie paused. “I’m not sure how to explain it. Wardens are mages who can somehow strengthen other mages’ abilities.”

“Sarlo said she could make it easier to use my magic.”

“That’s one way to look at it. I don’t know how it works, but Treya insists she’s gotten much better at healing since she met Corec. My spells have improved too, but I don’t know how much is thanks to him and how much is from practice and studying.”

“You and Treya?” Leena said. “If I asked, would he … ?” It seemed too good to be true.

“It’s not that simple. He’s already done it for six of us, and Yelena told him it will only work eight times. I’m surprised she made the offer without meeting you. She told us she spent a lot of time getting to know her … other friends … before asking them.”

“Sarlo said something about helping them out once I was trained as a Traveler.”

“Oh, I see,” Ellerie said. “That makes sense. As a Traveler, you can move from one place to another, right? Maybe Yelena wanted you to take messages back and forth for her.”

Realization washed over Leena. Traveling was why Sarlo had sought her out in the first place. It was what the mysterious man in Telfort had been after, too. The north wasn’t like Sanvar, where the Zidari provided a network of Travelers to the empress in exchange for her protection. Northerners didn’t have Travelers. Not many of them, anyway.

“No, not messages,” she said slowly. “When I master Traveling, I’ll be able to take other people with me. I went from Matihar to Telfort in a single jump—that’s thousands of miles. That’s what Yelena wanted. I’m so stupid. I thought Sarlo was just being friendly.” She’d trusted him, too. Not that he’d lied to her about it, but it almost felt like he had.

“Thousands of miles?” Ellerie asked. “I had no idea. Yes, I can understand why Yelena would want that.”

Leena took a deep breath. If that’s what it took to protect her brother, she’d accept the price. “Would Corec?”

Ellerie was silent for a moment. “I’ve gotten to know Corec fairly well. I think, if it’s that important to you, he’d help you without asking anything in return.”

“Really?”

“Sometimes he jumps into things without thinking them through, but he does usually at least try to do the right thing.”

Leena stood up and paced. “I should ask him. Do you think he’s still awake?”

“He was going to play cards with the others, but before you talk to him, there’s more you should know.” A blue light flickered on Ellerie’s brow, resolving into an image of three rounded arcs arranged near each other. “It requires a binding spell that links you to him. He’d always know where you were, or what direction you were in at least. You’d know the same about him. And you’d have a sigil like this one. You can learn to hide it but it’s always there.”

Leena considered that. “So if he ever did want my help, I could always find him. I could live in Sanvar and just Travel to wherever he is.”

“I suppose, yes, but that wasn’t what I meant. I don’t think he’d make you do that.”

“I have to protect my brother and the other Travelers first, but afterward, I’d be willing to repay a favor.” Leena stopped her pacing and turned to face Ellerie. “Why did you do it?”

The elven woman shook her head, an embarrassed grimace on her face. “It wasn’t my choice; it was just an accident. In the beginning, he didn’t know what he was doing. He’s gotten better, though. He didn’t bond Sarette until she asked him to, and we finally found a way to undo it—here in Aencyr, actually. That Lady Hildra we were talking about yesterday is another warden, and she taught him how. He already removed Razai’s bond, but I’m going to keep mine for now, in case I need the extra help while we search for Tir Yadar.”

Leena blinked. “Razai, too?” She’d known the demonborn woman had met the others before, but she’d gotten the impression they hadn’t spent much time together.

“It was another accident. She wasn’t happy about it and she didn’t want anything to do with us, so it was a surprise to see her show up on the ship.”

“Maybe I should talk to her first before I ask him,” Leena said.

Just then, the door opened and Razai stumbled into the room. “Boktar can’t hold his whiskey,” the demonborn woman slurred, her eyes staring around blearily.

“Whiskey?” Ellerie said. “He usually sticks to ale.”

“He and Josip were the only ones who’d drink with me. The rest of you people are boring.” Razai stepped unsteadily over to her bed, then sat down to unlace her boots. “Josip fell asleep in the common room, so I bet Boktar he couldn’t match me drink-for-drink. I won.” She flopped back onto the mattress.

Ellerie rubbed her temples. “I suppose that won’t hurt anything. We’re not leaving until tomorrow.” To Leena, she said, “It looks like you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to talk to Razai.”

“Talk to me about what?” a voice muttered from the other side of the room.

“Asking Corec to bond me,” Leena said.

Razai sat straight up. “What!”

#

Melithar tugged on his uncomfortable ambassadorial robes, making sure the lines were straight before he entered the High Council chamber. Perfectly flowing robes were supposed to indicate that the wearer was both relaxed and composed, but he preferred the less formal clothing of his other profession.

Passing through the doors, he was surprised to find twelve sentinels already in the chamber, their gleaming mail reflecting sunlight from the glass ceiling. Each sentinel bore a small, round shield strapped to one arm, and carried a sheathed sword on his belt. The High Council chamber and the large table inside were both perfectly circular, supposedly built that way to indicate that all of the great houses were equals, a pretense that had been ignored ever since. The sentinels were arrayed in even intervals around the far half of the table, where the councilors would sit, one guard standing behind each of the chairs. There were no sentinels at the near side of the table, where Vilisa and her advisers would sit—not even the two that typically stood guard behind her own seat.

Melithar had entered the room from the inner palace entrance, more to annoy the councilors than for any other reason. Ever since Jorel, the head of security, had locked them out of the inner palace, the councilors had been required to enter from the other side of the room. They were filing through the door but seemed hesitant to take their seats, staring at the sentinels standing nearby.

“What’s the meaning of this, Melithar?” the elderly Councilor Avaro di’Taris asked. The councilors knew Melithar’s current name, but they’d all been around long enough to have seen him in other guises. They were aware he wasn’t who he claimed to be.

“Why ask me, Avaro?” Melithar replied, with calculated insult. It was one thing for a High Councilor to leave off Melithar’s obviously fake title, and quite another for Melithar to ignore Avaro’s. “I’ll find out at the same time you do.”

The short man’s expression tightened. “Oh, so you’re not in on it this time? There are some that worry about how much influence you have over Her Exalted Highness, you know.” The councilors nearest to Avaro each took a step away, eyeing the sentinels nervously. Avaro was widely considered to be the frontrunner to become the next king if the di’Valla line died out, but there were still limits to what sort of behavior could be tolerated.

Melithar kept his expression calm. “I’d be cautious about saying anything like that where Princess Vilisa might overhear.” In truth, he was just as uneasy as the others. What was Vilisa up to? She couldn’t be thinking of dismantling the High Council, could she? The positioning of the sentinels was clearly intended as a threat.

The two months since the attack on the Glass Palace had tested Vilisa’s patience. While the attack itself had been clumsy, whoever had masterminded it was careful, leaving Melithar with a conundrum. Had more than one person been involved? He was gradually working his way back through the chain of hirelings, taking things slow with each target, waiting for a time when he could make them disappear without anyone important taking notice. His most recent lead, the man who’d been hired to set everything in motion, had been a dead end. By the time Melithar had reached him, someone else had already killed him—probably whoever had hired him.

The dead man, however, always worked with the same money man, a merchant of sorts by the name of Torolo. Torolo most likely knew who the perpetrator was, but Melithar hadn’t figured out how to approach him yet. The man was too well known among the houses to just disappear off the streets, and there was too great a risk of him talking if Melithar were to question him and release him. If he was arrested formally, word would make it out to the councilors, giving the perpetrator a chance to escape. Perhaps some sort of bribe would work.

Melithar’s musings were interrupted when Jorel and Eloina entered the room, followed by Vilisa. She was accompanied by her secretary—who happened to be one of the queen’s own spies, though Melithar doubted Vilisa knew that. Trailing the group were two battle wizards wearing rapiers. That explained why there were no sentinels behind Vilisa’s chair. She’d chosen more imposing guards for this meeting.

In her mind, she was making a show of power to the councilors, but by doing so, she was ignoring the political statement it sent to her own sentinels. When it really mattered, she hadn’t chosen them to serve as her protection. Melithar sighed. His daughter was intelligent, but far too young and naive for the role she was playing. Ellerie had been right when she’d said Vilisa was better suited for the position, but neither of them was capable of matching their mother’s cunning.

The councilors all bowed or curtseyed.

“Sit, everyone,” Vilisa said. “Please.” By custom, she’d be the last to take her seat.

Some of the councilors moved toward their chairs, but then stopped and eyed the armed guards who’d be standing right behind them if they sat down.

When Avaro spoke, his voice was slightly more respectful than it had been a few minutes earlier. “Exalted, are the sentinels necessary? We can hardly be expected to conduct council business like this.”

Vilisa stared at him for a moment before answering. “Are the sentinels necessary? I suppose that depends on what you think is necessary. There’s a traitor in this room, and the sentinels are here for your protection. Personally, yes, I think it’s important to protect the lives of our esteemed High Councilors. Perhaps you do not?”

Traitor? What was she playing at? Had she learned something new?

The councilors all eyed each other nervously at Vilisa’s announcement, but her barb worked, and they had no choice but to take their seats.

Melithar’s own seat was to Vilisa’s right, but he stood next to her instead. “What are you doing?” he hissed into her ear. “Exalted.”

“Your methods were too slow,” she murmured. Then she raised her voice. “We’ll skip over any other council business. An hour ago, Commandant Jorel arrested a man I’m sure you all know, a purveyor of mood-altering powders and potions who goes by the name of Torolo. He was quite informative under the influence of a truth spell.”

Melithar grunted. He didn’t have a problem with making the investigation official; he just wished Vilisa had consulted with him first. He’d been working from the shadows out of habit, assuming Queen Revana would want to keep his activities quiet like usual. He shot glares at Jorel and Eloina for not warning him. They ignored him, watching the councilors’ side of the table intently.

A whispering sound came from the far side of the table, but Vilisa was ready for it. The sentinel behind Councilor Retavin di’Yedda rested his sword against the man’s neck, interrupting his spell.

“Lord Retavin, would you care to explain your reasons for the assassination attempts against my family?” Vilisa asked. “You’re not even eligible for the vote of succession.”

“I had nothing to do with those attempts,” Retavin said. “All I know is what you’ve shared with us.”

“Priestess?” Vilisa asked.

Eloina stood and walked over to the councilor, laying a glowing hand on his head.

Vilisa repeated her question.

Retavin struggled to keep from speaking. “I had nothing … I had nothing to do with … It had to be done for the future of Terevas.”

It was the closest Melithar had seen anyone ever come to resisting a truth spell.

Avaro’s eyes had gone wide. “My granddaughter is betrothed to his son. She’s my only heir—if, forbid, something were to happen to Her Exalted Majesty and Their Exalted Highnesses, and I’m crowned king, she would be the next queen, and Retavin’s son would be the consort.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, Councilor,” Vilisa said, menace in her voice. “You’ll never be king.”

“Your granddaughter is a blathering idiot, Avaro,” Retavin said. “She’s useless. All I cared about was your promise to close the borders and regrow the tershaya forests.”

Melithar rolled his eyes. Whatever Retavin had intended to say to Avaro, the truth spell had loosened his tongue enough to provide a real answer, but the two men’s political goals were pointless. The more conservative councilors had been trying to get Queen Revana to close the borders ever since she’d first opened them over a hundred years ago. At this point, reversing that decision would be a catastrophe. The people of Terevas had long ago adjusted to the change, and the nation now exported more goods than it imported. Outlawing foreign traders and returning to a time of high tariffs and border outposts would destroy the economy. Even the insular dorvasta allowed traders partway into the forest, though not to Terrillia itself.

As for the tershaya, every ruler promised to regrow them. Other than a few scattered trees, no one had ever been successful. The nilvasta simply didn’t have the same bond with the tershaya that their forest-dwelling cousins had. Whatever they’d once had was long lost.

Vilisa barked a laugh. “That’s what this was about? You couldn’t even bother to come up with a good reason?”

“They’re the only reasons that matter!” Retavin exclaimed, no longer trying to fight the spell. “Our people have lost their way since leaving the forest!”

“What way is that, exactly? Living up the side of a tree? Hiding from the rest of the world?”

Melithar winced. He didn’t disagree with his daughter’s point, but insulting the dorvasta was never a good idea politically. The nilvasta still honored their origins.

“We’ve forgotten what it means to be elven!” Retavin protested.

Vilisa said, “That’s a question for the philosophers, Lord Retavin, but thank you for your confession. You’ve made this much easier. By my authority as heir, I find you guilty and sentence you to death.”

She started whispering the words to a spell. Even for a wizard, it was impossible to tell what spell another wizard was casting, but Melithar knew what it would be. Vilisa was putting on a strong front, but there had been two attempts on her life and she was scared that the next one would succeed. Drenching the entire High Council in blood and body parts would certainly tell the other councilors to back off, but it was going too far.

“Wait, Exalted!” he exclaimed. “Not like this.”

Distracted, she stopped casting. “You think to contradict me, Ambassador?” she asked. Her voice wavered slightly, not yet having taken on the icy tone it always had after she’d cast the spell.

“Never, Exalted,” Melithar said with a deep bow. “But Her Exalted Majesty has requested to observe the execution of any persons responsible, under the headsman’s axe as tradition demands. I apologize for not relaying that message sooner. The fault is my own.”

Vilisa and Eloina knew he was lying, but the councilors couldn’t be certain—it was the type of request Revana had made in the past. It would allow Vilisa to back down in front of an underling without losing any status.

She stared at him for a long moment, and he worried she’d go forward with the execution anyway, but then she nodded. “If that’s what Mother wants, then of course we should obey her wishes.”

Melithar breathed a sigh of relief. He had to get that spell book away from his daughter before she learned any more of its spells. More importantly, he had to teach her how to be queen—a real queen—before Revana finally gave in to her wasting illness.