“You needn’t worry,” she said.
“I know. But I will anyway.”
“Why?”
“You don’t know?”
She did know. Because she worried too, not for herself, but for him. She worried he would die to protect her, and she didn’t want that. “Your swordmark is too valuable. You can’t be my personal guard in the battle to come.”
“Yes, I can. Because you are too valuable in the battle to come.”
She knew it was a lie, albeit a kind one. “Not because you love me?”
Sir Dietrich’s arms surrounded her and she melted into his warmth. She wanted to protect him from everything, but…
How do I protect him from myself?
Before she knew what was happening, her soulmark flared, shooting out, roiling around his beautiful blue soul, melding with it even as her lips found his. She felt his desire to protect her, full of determination and oaths and honor and love—so much love. And for the first time in her short life, she tore down her own walls so he could see her too. All of her.
His lips stopped moving against her and he pulled back sharply, his soul fading slightly. “Lisbeth?” he said.
“It’s all true,” she said. “My power is too great and I have little control over it. You’ve witnessed my inability firsthand. My only purpose was to usher in the Fall of All Things. Not to stop it. If I march to war, everyone will die.”
She expected David to shun her, or worse, to deny what she’d said. Instead, he only held her once more, drawing her cheek to his chest, where she felt his heart beating. “I shall risk it,” he said. “For you are worth dying for.”
Eighty-Eight
The Southern Empire, Phanea
Roan Loren
After all the waiting, it felt strange to be leaving. Though the sweltering canyons didn’t feel like home—not that anywhere had ever really felt like home to Roan—he was sad to leave them.
The army had been prepared for days, drilling and waiting. Their force was comprised of an odd assortment of peoples, if Roan ever saw one. There were the Teran soldiers who’d been trained as slaves, but whom were now free to choose their own path. They still had that lost look about them, but Roan thought they looked slightly more self-assured than before. A few had even decided to leave the army and sail to Teragon. Roan didn’t fault them—he was glad they could follow their hearts. Beside them were ragtag lines of leather-clad Phanecians trained in phen ru, the martial art of attack. Their wrists and ankles would be strapped with blades prior to battle, and Roan had seen what they were capable of in the Bloody Canyons. Hundreds of other ex-slaves—Teran mostly but with the occasional Dreadnoughter amongst their ranks—had also decided to join them. Roan still couldn’t believe how many had stayed. After everything they’d been through, they were willing to fight for a place that had done little for them in return.
Sitting in the shade tight against the canyon wall were the Black Tears. Though their numbers were down to less than a dozen, Roan knew they were a staunch ally and he was lucky they’d returned from Calypso in time to march with them.
Finally, set in a line near the mouth of the canyons were those members of the original council who’d remained in Phanea. Rhea, holding her daughter. Grey Arris, standing between Rhea and Shae. Shae beside Erric, their fingers a whisper apart. Falcon Hoza, standing apart from the rest, his narrow eyes staring at something Roan suspected only he could see. He wished things had been different and that Shanti could be here for this. Even in dark times such as these, he knew as well as anyone that one could not pretend nothing had happened. Especially in times such as these. Finally, there was Ennis. His hair hung in greasy tendrils around his face and his lips were moving, though nothing was said. Roan wondered whether it was a mistake to bring him. They could’ve bound him, held him captive for his own safety…
In the end, however, Roan knew he had every right to participate in whatever was to come—perhaps more right than anyone else.
“Windy, Yela,” Roan said, turning to his two companions standing closest to him. “You don’t have to come. None would fault you. You’ve helped in your own way.”
“Don’t patronize us,” Windy said. “I am still a Sandes and Yela may be as clever as a whip, but I’ve seen her wield one too. She’s no novice.”
Roan shook his head and managed a smile. Her response didn’t surprise him in the least.
He turned away, not to give a speech—it was too hot for that—but to signal it was time to march. He stopped, however, when he spotted a dark shape speeding across the sky.
A dragon.
PART V
Gwen Whisper Helmuth
Annise Gareth Lisbeth
Roan Ennis Rhea
Tarin Falcon Sonika
“Peace isn’t some mystical force that happens to us.
We are peace, all of us.”
Roan Loren
Eighty-Nine
The Southern Empire, Phanea
Gwendolyn Storm
Her heart soared when she saw the army.
Images of battles fought long ago ratcheted through her mind. Not battles she or Siri had participated in, but those that had occurred years before either of them were born.
My soul? she said, in question.
These lands are soaked in blood, Siri said. They all are.
I know, Gwen said. And there is more to come. But it will be worth it.
Siri’s second head was half-formed now. It had no eyes or mouth, but there was clearly no stopping it. She only hoped the battle was finished before it completed its growth or she didn’t know what would happen.
My soul? Siri said, picking up on the tone of her thoughts.
These are friends, Gwen said. Be at peace.
Siri circled lower, cresting the edge of the canyon. Below them, some of the people seemed frightened, backing away further into the canyons. Others just watched or pointed.
Her heromark flared, her vision magnified as she picked out individual faces, some strangers, some familiar and then—
Him.
Roan watched her as they swooped overhead, and there was something in his expression that made her breath catch. He looked…relieved, happy, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
She no longer feared her failures or how she might’ve disappointed him, for that was all in the past and she had changed, and so had he. But that didn’t make them strangers unless she let it.
And I won’t. I won’t.
The two-legger is your soul too? Siri asked, feeling her swell of emotions.
Gwendolyn smiled broadly, feeling real joy. No, she said. You are my only soul. Roan Loren is a friend. A dear, dear friend.
Then he shall be my friend too.
Siri dove, pulling up just before the ground, her wings beating the dust into a frenzy and forcing Gwen to shield her face as she slid down. Her feet blindly found purchase as she shoved off. She ran, her heromark pulsing as she
slammed into Roan and they were clutching each other and it was like no time had passed and she hadn’t broken what they had, only
changed it into something that mattered just as much and
she would not waste it, not for one second longer.
“I’ve missed you, Gwendolyn,” Roan whispered in her ear.
“Ore, Roan, I’ve missed you too.” She didn’t say she was sorry, because she knew it wasn’t necessary.
They pulled apart slowly, and when they did, she could see it in his eyes. He knew. They could’ve been each other’s destiny, but too much time had passed, and now?
They were something else. Something no less valuable. They were allies. They were comrades. They were friends.
Friends, Siri said, and Gwen knew Roan heard it too because he jumped.
Gwen laughed. “I don’t think you’ve been formally introduced. Roan, meet Siri.” Siri, meet Roan.
“She’s a different color,” Roan said in wonder. “And she has another…”
??
?Not yet,” Gwen said. “But yes. It is growing. Don’t hold it against her.”
“Raven,” he said, closing his eyes. They opened and he touched her face. “Gwen, I’m so sorry.”
Her eyes remained dry, but not because she didn’t care. Because she cared too much to waste Raven’s sacrifice on sorrow. Not until this was done. “We have come to warn you,” she said, drawing Roan’s hand away from her cheek. “The Horde has crossed the Bridge of Triumph to the west and is marching south.” She looked around at the gathered soldiers. “But I suspect you already know that.”
Roan nodded. “What else do you know?”
What a fool I’ve been, Gwen chided herself. She should’ve started with news of Gareth. “Gareth is fine.” Roan’s face relaxed slightly as she continued. “The Horde attacked Portage but not Ferria. They slaughtered many of the northerners, but Annise and a band of refugees escaped into the east.”
“The east?”
“Aye.” Gwen smiled. “Gareth welcomed them into Ironwood. Even now they are preparing to give chase to the barbarians.”
She could see it in Roan’s eyes—the hope she’d brought. “Thank you for coming,” he said. He raised one hand over his head and then brought it down sharply. All around them, soldiers began to march, steering well clear of the dragon sitting on her haunches in the desert.
Ninety
The Southern Empire, Calypso
Whisper Sandes
Whisper had no dragons. The guanik that remained were small and weak—the strongest of the reptilian beasts had drowned in the ocean off the coast of Ferria. The empire’s elite warriors, the guanero, were wiped out save for the initiates standing before her now. And Goggin, who stood at attention as an example for them, his barrel chest puffed out, his eyes squarely facing forward. They darted to meet hers for a moment and then flitted away.
Behind the two-hundred or so guanero initiates was the rest of the Calypsian army—four thousand strong. They’d lost thousands in Ferria, but Raven had been wise enough to leave a portion of her strength at home. Over the last few days, Whisper had rallied them from the corners of the empire to the capital city.
She could see it in their eyes—their willingness.
To fight. To die. For Calypso. For her.
It made her angry.
“Why should any of you have to die? I know what my mother would’ve said—my sisters too. Fight for Calypso. Die an honorable death. That’s foolishness.”
She watched their eyes. Their expressions. How they changed, from readiness to confusion.
Goggin’s was the only one that didn’t. He was prepared for this. He expected this.
She spotted Gat Vaid amongst the foot soldiers. As she’d commanded, he’d been outfitted with sturdy-looking leather armor and twin daggers, each of which were sheathed at his hips. He watched her with interest.
“But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be prepared to fight. If any enemy tries to enter our borders via the Scarra, we will show them why we are known as dragons.” She paused, wetting her lips. “I know many of you think I’m a soft-hearted girl, known for painting and daydreaming. I know many of you think I’m weak.” She transitioned the gentle lilt of her voice to a harsh shout. “Do not mistake my tactics for weakness. I have fought foes both man and beast in the pits of Zune and have emerged forged of fire and blade, walking in the shadow of death but returning to the brightness of Calypso prepared to fight. Your training is nothing compared to mine, for your lives have never been in jeopardy. No, I will not send you to your deaths to fight battles for other kingdoms, but that does not make me weak nor a coward. It makes me strong.”
There was silence for a heartbeat, then two. And then:
Roars across the men and women, louder than lions, louder than dragons, loud enough for the gods to hear. She saw Gat’s mouth open in a roar, too, but his eyes told a different story, one of disappointment.
Goggin was the only one who didn’t shout, shaking his head.
Once, Whisper knew, they would’ve had something to look forward to as they approached the famed comforts of the desert oasis of Kesh. A break in their march, shelter, warm food and cool drinks. The easterners had destroyed the small village, burned it to the ground, killing all the servants along with the owner, a man named Guta.
Her sister had told her this, using it as the final excuse in an entire list of excuses as to why she needed to attack the Ferrians in their iron stronghold.
“By the gods,” Goggin murmured as his guanero picked through the sand. “I knew Kesh was gone, but I didn’t expect this.”
Whisper said, “The desert claims all, in the end.”
Goggin nodded thoughtfully. “Even its empress, so it seems.”
Whisper whirled on him, her temper spiking. Her blade was out in an instant and she leapt forward like a wildcat, realizing too late the large warrior wouldn’t defend himself. Still, she couldn’t seem to stop herself and she was back in the pits again and it was kill or be killed and her knife was at his throat and he was staring at her, not with fear, but with something like resignation and, perhaps, a little bit of hope.
Her resolve shattered and she took a deep breath. “Enough of your insolence,” she spat, shoving off him and sheathing her blade, ignoring the stares of the other guanero and soldiers as she walked away.
Campfires had been lit across the dunes. Sitting atop the largest of the sand hills in the area, Whisper had to admit they looked beautiful, spots of orange and red blazing in the darkness of the vast desert.
Above her was a world of stars flanked by two half-moons, each seeming to gaze upon each other with desire. As a young girl, Whisper could have spent hours gazing upon them, watching their path across the sky, hoping that they would kiss even though she knew it wasn’t their time. Back then, she thought anything was possible, that if the moons’ wills were strong enough they could kiss every night, instead of only twice a year.
“What a damn fool I was then,” she muttered, dragging her gaze back to the lights of the fires.
A voice from behind startled her. “I say the same thing whenever I think about my past.”
She was on her feet in an instant, blades drawn, instincts firing.
“Whoa, Your Highness,” Goggin said, his hands raised over his head. “I come in peace.”
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people. Especially not the kind who would slit your throat.”
Goggin chuckled and flopped down. “Gods, watching you is like seeing your sisters smashed together into one person. Fire’s passion meets Raven’s logic and calculation.”
She didn’t want his words to hurt, but they did. “I’m nothing like either of them.”
“You’re exactly like both of them,” he said. “It’s meant to be a compliment. I respected them. I fought for them. I—” His eyes closed and he turned his head to the side, wincing like he’d been slapped. “Look at me,” he said, “I’ve never been an emotional man, unless you count the times I cry after a night of too much simpre, but here I am, blubbering away.”
“Goggin, you can’t sway my mind.”
“I’m not trying to,” he said. “I shouldn’t have tried before. It never worked with your sisters and it won’t work with you. And anyway, I trust your judgment.”
“Is this supposed to be a new tactic?”
“No tactics. Did your sisters ever tell you about the assassin in Kesh?”
“What? No. What assassin?”
Goggin shook his head. “They were always trying to protect you. Though I understood it at the time, I see now that it was their biggest mistake. They underestimated you, as I have.”
Whisper frowned, but she wasn’t offended. She understood why he’d thought that way. “I was different then. Now tell me about the assassin.”
“I bedded a woman, one of the servants, the first night we were in Kesh,” Goggin said quietly.
So what? she thought. She’d heard the guanero commander brag of his exploits before, and never had
he sounded so ashamed. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”
“I didn’t. I mean, I did, but only because of the simpre. Fire had commanded that none of us partake of simpre, but I knew the proprietor and I gave him some extra coin to fill my flask with the good stuff. The second night too. I can handle my drink, but only to a point. I went too far. I looked for that same woman, but couldn’t find her. Eventually I passed out under a palm tree.”
“I don’t understand.”
Goggin took a deep breath. “The woman I was with the first night was the assassin. She tried to kill Fire. If not for Raven’s awareness, she might have.”
Oh. “I see.”
“That’s it? I see?” Goggin threw up his hands in exasperation. “Finally, I give you a real reason to pull a blade on me and you’re not in the mood.”
“Would you like me to? I still can.”
To her surprise, Goggin’s somber mood gave way to a loud guffaw. He slapped his knee as he laughed. “See? Raven and Fire. And now Whisper.”
Whisper smiled. “You loved my sister, right?”
“In the end. Yes. I only wish I’d realized it sooner. Things might’ve been different. I was a fool.”
Whisper nodded. “I don’t disagree, but that doesn’t make you a bad man. And I think she loved you too. In the end.”
Goggin’s lips tightened and she could tell he was trying to hold back the emotion, damming it like a swift-moving stream. “I think so too.”
“Gat Vaid,” Whisper said. She sat upon one of the few guanik they had available. It was small, but her frame was slight and the beast had no trouble bearing her weight as it clambered over the dunes.
Gat turned his head, halting his march. All around him, other soldiers continued onward up the next rise, the sun beating down on them. In the manner of the Calypsians, Gat wore a leather visor, which cast his face in partial shadow.