Fireborn

  “It was a horrible time,” I agreed slowly, remembering well the sensation of being out of control, enraged with the lust of chaos magic flowing through me. It was the closest I’d felt to being consumed by it, and it was nothing I ever wished to experience again.

  “That is why Lord Israel acted so quickly. He had to, lest the others demand you all be destroyed right then and there. You he was quick to exclude, because he knew your head priest would keep you hidden and safe. But the others had no protection, so he changed his plans for the moonstones.”

  “Did he tell you this?” I asked, simultaneously annoyed that Hallow would keep this from me, and amazed that I could have—yet again—been so wrong in my assessment of Lord Israel’s character. I would have to offer up several prayers of penitence to Kiriah for my hasty judgments.

  “No, but if you think about it for a bit, I believe you’ll realize it’s the only reason for his actions.”

  We were silent for a few minutes, Hallow deep in his own thoughts, while I was alternating between readjusting my view of the world and worrying about what was to come.

  Idril moved toward us.

  “What’s the second thing?” Hallow asked suddenly.

  “Hmm?” I asked, smoothing a hand down my tunic. I don’t know where or how, but he had managed to find one of the Bane of Eris tunics, and although I’d had to alter it to make it fit, I was strangely pleased to once again be wearing the black tunic with the silver stars and sun. “Oh, uh ...”

  I coughed delicately and slid him a look from the corners of my eyes, aware that Idril and her ladies were now behind us. Normally I wouldn’t have been so shy about making it clear that I desired Hallow, but given the limited accommodations on the small ship, and the fact that every time we attempted to take advantage of privacy, Idril managed to encounter us, we’d both had a pretty frustrating journey.

  “It has been a difficult last week, what with the ride from the temple, followed by this trip,” he said, his eyes crinkling in a way that made me want to throw modesty to the wind and disrobe him right then and there. “I am hopeful that Deo will have a building that will afford us some privacy.”

  “He’d better if he wants to avoid me doing all the things I want to do to you right there in front of him,” I murmured, then turned on the brittle smile that I used whenever Idril blighted me with her presence.

  “We arrive, I see,” she said in her breathy voice, not one single blasted silver hair out of place. In contrast, I had hair clinging damply to the corners of my eyes, stuck to my nostrils, and in my mouth. I pulled it all free and ruthlessly bound it back with a cloth tie. “But what will we find? You are sure of the priestess’s power, Hallow? You said she would regain the blessing of Kiriah during the voyage, and yet it does not seem to my eyes that she is graced with anything but a rather distressing libido.”

  “People who walk into cabins without first knocking should expect to see things not fit for public viewing,” I said with as much dignity as I could find. Only that morning, she’d caught me without my tunic, and Hallow in the act of struggling out of his leggings.

  “It was my cabin,” Idril pointed out.

  “We were just borrowing it for a little while,” I began, a bit tersely, to be true, but stopped when Hallow choked back a bubble of laughter. “Regardless, I would appreciate it if you didn’t act like I wasn’t here when you’re talking about me.”

  “Very well.” She turned those glowing copper eyes on me. “Have you regained the grace of Kiriah Sunbringer?”

  I glanced at my fingers. Not since the day we’d stood before Lord Israel had I felt even the remotest connection with the sun and Kiriah. “Not as such, but—”

  “And the chaos power that Hallow informs me Deo bestowed upon you.” Idril’s voice, though soft, had an undernote of steel in it that made me pity the small herd of handmaidens that followed her around as if she were a rare flower who couldn’t survive on her own. “Has that returned?”

  I held out one of my wrists, the silver of the cuff as dull as the sky above us. “Do you see the runes etched upon this? No? Then there is nothing for the runes to contain, and thus, the chaos power has not stirred since I closed down the rift. You know, the one that was spewing Harborym of Eris into our world, the very same one your father and the other council members were unable to close in more than ten years of trying.”

  I felt ashamed of my outburst the second it left my lips.

  Hallow raised both eyebrows, and my conscience got the better of me.

  “My apologies,” I said before Idril could respond. “That was unkind and conceited of me. I am well aware that I did not destroy the Harborym on my own. I’m sure the council and the Tribe of Jalas eliminated many Harborym over the years.”

  “It would, I think, be better if you remembered that more often,” Idril said softly, then turned her face to the shore. “How do you expect to convince Deo to fight if you do not possess either the grace of Kiriah or the tainted power of the Harborym?”

  “Have no fear, she will,” Hallow said, and before he could go on, he groaned aloud. “Blasted stars, moons, and planets. He found me.”

  “Who—oh. Thorn, isn’t it? Is it bad that it’s here?” I asked, watching the wooden black swallow that swooped and dove around the seabirds, heading straight for our ship.

  “Only if I wish to remain sane.” Hallow took a deep breath, and pulled the staff from his back, holding it out. The swallow flew around his head six times before alighting on the top of the staff and taking its position. “Yes. Yes, I heard you. No, I’m not going to strangle anyone. I don’t blame Darius for throwing you in the fire if you used that sort of language with him. What? You saw it for yourself?”

  Hallow’s face wore a decidedly martyred expression.

  Idril gave the staff a curious glance. “Does it talk to you? I thought it was made of wood.”

  “It is. That is, his bird form is. I assure you that his spirit is very much still alive in there, and he talks nonstop to me.”

  She gave a delicate one-shouldered shrug. “That does sound annoying.”

  “You have no idea. However, it has one use—evidently he overheard in the queen’s palace that Darius is not in any way injured, a fact that Thorn himself witnessed.”

  “Why would he say he was unable to come to Aryia with whatever Starborn he could round up if he was perfectly able to do so?” I asked, frowning over the puzzle. I had little to no knowledge of the Starborn, let alone the man who was chosen to lead them once the queen was taken through the rift.

  “That is an answer I very much wish to know. Let us first address the situation with Deo, and once we are fully in force, we can turn our attention to the puzzle that is Darius.”

  I said nothing more, but I thought a great many things while the ship was docked, and a small rowboat ferried us to shore. I was troubled, not just because I sensed Hallow was concerned over the state of the Starborn army—or lack thereof—but because I was worried about what was to come.

  How was I supposed to stir a magic that had remained dormant in me for so long? Hallow had no answer for me when I asked him, simply saying that when the time came for me to act, he had faith I would be able to summon the abilities I needed.

  Hallow and I strode up a twisting path ahead of Idril and her swarm of ladies, and the few men-at-arms who evidently protected her pristine self from any unpleasantness there was to be had from the peasantry in general. Hallow spoke in a low tone with the captain of the ship. I gnawed my lower lip and sent up little queries to Kiriah to see if she wished to once again acknowledge me. Despite my glowing fingertips in Abet, I had no luck finding my lightweaving abilities, let alone feeling the chaos power.

  The steely grip of worry deepened, leaving me feeling as if I couldn’t take a deep breath for the vise that held me so tightly.

  “There,” Hallow said, pointing. I looked up the path to where it rose along a sheer cliff face. Topping it, almost invisible due to it being made
of the same stone, a building rose. It was three stories tall and had turrets on both ends, and a grim look that made little shivers run down my back.

  “I didn’t expect to find Deo living as wild as the goats,” I said to Hallow as we climbed the path. “But that house is grand. It looks horribly cold, though. And sterile. And lonely.”

  “Still, it’s shelter. No sign of a reception, which is interesting,” Hallow said when we arrived at the door. It was wooden, with large black metal bands twisted and formed into fanciful shapes.

  Topping the door were crescent moons cut into the stone, and filled with silver plates polished so brightly they shone even though the light of Kiriah was dulled by clouds.

  Hallow rapped on the great doors, raising an uneasy feeling in me, one that grew with every passing minute.

  “Hallow,” I said quietly so that the others couldn’t hear. “I’ve been thinking more upon this, and I know you believe that my powers will suddenly return to me, but if they haven’t by now, I can only surmise that they never will. The situation in the war room in Abet must have been”—I raised my hands and let them fall—“an anomaly. I have said many prayers to Kiriah since then, and yet I remain without the sense of her, the feel of her power. The warmth of the sun, even.”

  “You mean when Lord Israel goaded you into anger so great that it stirred passions left untouched for a year?” he asked, his eyes crinkling at me.

  “Blast your toenails, don’t you dare tell me that he did that deliberately so that I would pull on Kiriah’s power, because it makes no sense. Kiriah herself grants me her grace, and she’s withheld that from me.”

  “Or perhaps you were so convinced of your own inability, you refused to allow her to grace you,” he said gently.

  I gaped at him open-mouthed. “I what?”

  “My heart,” he said with a sigh, and took my hand in his. “Do you not see that in this, you have been your own enemy?”

  “I have not! The power left me! You saw me in the throne room after Deo was killed ... or taken away, or whatever happened to him. I had nothing, no power from the sun, no chaos magic.”

  “You were exhausted. You had completely drained your lightweaving abilities dry by closing the rift, and then when you ran berserk, you most likely depleted the chaos magic.”

  “It doesn’t have a finite quantity,” I argued. “It’s just there. Or it was, but after Deo and I fought the Harborym, it was gone.”

  “Was it?” His eyes watched me with a gentle inquiry that made me want to both yell in frustration and kiss the breath right out of his lungs.

  “I think I would know if magic was inside me or not.”

  “Or perhaps it had served its purpose and had no need to come when you called it. From what Deo said, the magic had its basis in the Harborym. If they were no more, if the rift was closed, would it still be active?”

  I stared at him in amazement for a few seconds before admitting, “I don’t know. I never ... it never occurred to me that it might simply”—I gestured vaguely—“go to sleep because it wasn’t needed.”

  “If chaos magic gains its powers through the Harborym, then that might explain why you no longer feel it.”

  “If that is so ... and I pray to Kiriah and Bellias both that it is ... then how am I to find it now? Because without it, I don’t see how I am going to be able to sway Deo.”

  “You will. I have faith that you will triumph.”

  “But what of Kiriah Sunbringer? Why does she shun me if I still bear her grace?”

  “Only you can answer that,” he said sagely. “But if I was to make a guess, I would reckon you overtaxed your strength, and when you couldn’t immediately draw any more power from the sun, you believed you’d lost the blessing of Kiriah. From there, the doubt spiraled until you had convinced yourself that Kiriah had withdrawn herself, leaving you empty and bereft.”

  “I am empty and bereft,” I insisted. “I told you that I can’t even make a light animal, and that’s the most basic use of her power.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “And yet the second Lord Israel enraged you, the power was there. Did you, perhaps, draw upon it without thinking?”

  “I hate it when you do this,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Do what?”

  “Have insights into me that not even I know. Blast you, you’re probably right. About Kiriah, that is. I hold little hope for the chaos power, though.”

  He gave my hand a squeeze before releasing it. “Courage, my heart. The time is not yet right for you to see what I see in you, although nearly so. Just be patient a little longer.”

  “Patience I have in abundance. Chaos magic and the ability to channel the strength of the sun, not so much.”

  “What is the delay?” Idril called from the path. “Why are you two standing there chatting when we should be inside, away from this cold and dampness?”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that the man she had abandoned in order to wed his father might not wish to see her, but I kept my opinion behind my teeth, and resumed worrying.

  It was all well and good for Hallow to say that something miraculous would happen when I came face-to-face with Deo, that the chaos power would return, but he would not be the one left standing there the subject of ridicule and failure when it didn’t happen.

  And as for the idea that I could be goaded into renewing my lightweaving abilities ... I shook my head. I needed time to think on that, to offer prayers to Kiriah in hopes she would hear me.

  Hallow banged on the door again and, when there was still no answer, turned the handle. It resisted, but after he worked a little magic on it, the lock gave way and allowed the door to swing open.

  “I hope you know what you are about,” Idril said as she marched past me into the entrance, her noble profile expressing no emotion stronger than a vague interest in Deo’s exiled home. “We have come a long way, and spent time we can ill afford, without any sign you will provide what is needed.”

  “Thank you so much for that show of support,” I said, frustration allowing a note of waspishness to tinge my words. “It’s been such a giddy nonstop cruise of pleasure and fulfillment that I had forgotten we aren’t here to indulge in our most imaginative of vices.”

  Sarcasm was wasted on her. She simply continued to where Hallow stood at the bottom of a wooden staircase, her ladies filing past me with many pointed looks.

  I stepped over the threshold, rubbing my arms against the chillness. It seemed to be colder within. The hall was as depressing on the inside as on the exterior.

  “I do not see the wisdom of disturbing the dead,” the ship’s captain was saying to Hallow when I was close enough to overhear. “Surely Lord Israel cannot wish to have his son exhumed.”

  “Would we be here now if we did not have his blessing on the pilgrimage?” Hallow asked smoothly. It was obvious that he hadn’t taken the captain into his confidence, and the former believed we were here to see Deo’s resting place.

  “I suppose not,” the captain said, but his face was filled with doubt. “I’ll be at the ship should you need me.”

  He left the hall quickly, leaving me to wonder at Hallow’s ability to lie so easily, a little stab of suspicion asking if he had lied thusly to me.

  No, I told the suspicious voice. He has no need to lie to me. He could have washed his hands of me and never seen me again.

  Except he wants something only you can do, the voice pointed out. He believes you still have power. He knows you are the only Bane of Eris who is also a lightweaver. There is no doubt that you can do things the others cannot.

  “That way madness lies,” I muttered to myself.

  “So I would have said, but Hallow assured me that you are the solution to the problem,” Idril said just as softly, then stepped forward with a gracious tilt of her head and accompanied Hallow up the stairs.

  I was too worried to do more than grind my teeth for a few seconds. If Deo was alive, where was he?

  CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

  The ebb and flow of his mind disturbed Deo. At first, he wasn’t aware of the disturbance, but after some time, he noticed that something was missing in the lucidity of his thoughts.

  “I’m going mad,” he said aloud. His nearest companion, a wild goat who would occasionally come around scrounging for food, lifted its tail and shat. Regardless, Deo continued to address him. Goat was, after all, his only friend. “I’m going mad, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Not even if I wanted to, and now I’m not sure I want to. Talking to yourself in your out-loud voice is a sign of madness, isn’t it? I’m sure it is. Then again, perhaps it’s a sign of sanity. Who’s to say?”

  He lay back on the rocky outcropping that hung over the stormy gray waters beating relentlessly at an equally rocky beach, and stared at the gray sky. His awareness moved on for a bit after that, rolling through memories of the past that seemed to blend seamlessly into an existence that he suspected wasn’t his.

  “Mad people think they are other people, I believe.” That made sense. He tried to remember just who he was. Was he the young, cocky man who everyone thought was going to be the salvation of Alba? Was he handsome and tall, with his mother’s coloring, and his father’s wisdom?

  Or was he a monstrous twisted parody of that man, tormented by a power he sometimes could not control, bearing unending pain in an attempt to protect those who had no protector.

  “What is mad, Goat? Is it true insanity, or is it brilliance that other people just can’t understand?” His father never understood him.

  His father ...

  The madness sent his mind reeling again, protecting itself from the rage that had kept him as much a prisoner as the endless sea around him. For the first month after he had been imprisoned here for the second time, he raged against his father, against the cruelty of a man who would doom his son to an eternal living death, but slowly the madness drove the anger from him.