Echoes of Silence

  She met my gaze. “I was sent to Umon to spy on Castillo, at the command of the High King,” she whispered. “But I failed. I didn’t know what he was doing, or where he’d gone. I couldn’t heal him. I was so distracted with Cris.”

  “Mari,” I said. “Please. It—”

  “I intercepted Cris’s invitations meant for you. I’d never felt such jealousy.” She looked out the window, as if the glass replayed her misdeeds in the compound.

  I put my hand on her arm to break her from the trance. “Truly, it doesn’t matter; as long as you are with us now.” I narrowed my eyes. “You are with us, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Good.” I smiled. “Now let’s take care of that memory.”

  Forty-Seven

  The following morning, the High King stood in the courtyard, barking orders at the assembled magicians. I stopped, only able to stare as my heart battled and raged against my ribcage.

  I could only hear the notes of the spell-song that had killed Olive. My fingers curled into fists, and my vision sharpened. Energy flowed from me, causing the High King to turn.

  His eyes narrowed as his lips spread into a smile. He folded his arms, and I wanted to fly forward and knock him senseless, perhaps sing a song that would shatter his smile and darken his eyes.

  “Not yet,” Castillo hissed as he bumped into my left shoulder. He didn’t say anything else, nor look back at me, as he continued into the courtyard. He bowed his head to his father and took his position among the magicians.

  I focused past the High King, where dozens of people waited for the lesson to begin. They all watched me with various expressions. Some wore wonder, some expectation, others confusion.

  Matu caught my eyes, his imploring me not to give away too much. I thought of Olive, of her last words to me, of the peace she’d worn on her face as Grandmother welcomed her home.

  “I’m ready to begin training.” The words stuck in my throat, and I refused to look directly at the High King as I brushed past him.

  He laughed, but it sounded like a cackle. “Your students.” He waved his arm across the group before settling on the steps. I wanted to say many things to his magicians, but I certainly couldn’t teach them a song to sing him into death if he hovered during my lessons.

  I caught Castillo’s eye, and he lowered his chin a fraction of an inch. Enough for me to know that he approved of the way I’d schooled my emotions—and that he’d call back the armies until I could properly instruct the magicians to overthrow the High King.

  The opportunity didn’t come the next day, nor the next. Frustration boiled inside my veins, making me irritable and tense.

  “Patience,” Cris counseled one evening. “He won’t attend lessons every day.”

  “But he just loiters there! I don’t understand it. He said he didn’t have time to teach his militia.”

  “He has time for what he deems important.”

  “And magic is of utmost importance to him.” I sighed. “What should I do? Refuse to teach? Cause an uprising that will draw his attention away from Nyth?”

  Cris drew me into an embrace. I breathed in the warmth of him, letting some of the annoyance and helplessness flow out of me. I began a cleansing song, one that would drive the disquiet away, at least for a little while.

  I sang into Cris’s chest as he held me close and joined his voice to mine. The timbre to his voice felt like rich honey, and though he possessed little power, it was beautiful and kind. With our voices acting together, my negative emotions and worries about the High King floated away.

  I stopped singing then, enjoying the warmth of Cris’s arms around me as we blocked out the world.

  “I’ll distract him,” Cris murmured.

  #

  The next morning, Cris departed before I awoke. Mari helped me ready myself for lessons, as I’d reassigned her to be my maid after Olive’s death. Her quick smile reminded me of Lucia’s quiet strength and unwavering loyalty.

  “Thank you, Mari.” I paused near the door as she tossed me a friendly smile.

  I slowed my steps as I approached the courtyard, searching the stairs for the High King. He was nowhere to be seen, and I couldn’t feel his magic nearby either.

  “Today,” Castillo muttered as I passed him, but I didn’t acknowledge him. My heart crowded my throat. Today rang through my head. Definitely today.

  “Come in close, please.” I centered myself in the courtyard. I needed proximity to influence the magicians. As they gathered, I hummed a detection tune to find those most loyal to the High King.

  I found thirty or so magicians glowing with a red aura. I asked them to come forward and then I examined them, as if searching for something important. I looked straight into the eyes of the one who’d very nearly broken the circle during Olive’s death ceremony.

  My breath hitched, my throat narrowed. I looked away quickly, deemed those with the aura still confused, and sent them away. Dozens of magicians remained in the courtyard, unattached to the High King, and possibly willing to go along with me.

  “Thank you for putting forth your best efforts these past few weeks,” I said. “Today, I have a new kind of spell I want to teach you. An offensive song. The power is in the melody.” I took a deep breath before singing five low notes that ascended up a minor scale.

  “Repeat it with me,” I instructed, and together we sang. I dropped out after the second note to listen. Their combined voices brought the power of the lands rushing toward me. As the sound died down, a smile crept across my face.

  “Excellent,” I said. “For this spell, there’s no power in words, only music.” I sauntered through them, looking each one in the eye. “This spell erases all others. It cages wicked magic and forces it back into the sorcerer who has corrupted it.”

  I cleared my throat and cast a glance toward the orchard. “Now, who can tell me what happens when a magician holds too much magic?”

  “Their bond can help them hold it,” someone said.

  “And what if they’re unbonded?”

  “They must release it,” Matu said. I looked at him and found understanding in his expression.

  “Yes,” I said. “They must release it. Where will that magic go?”

  “Into the surroundings,” said the magician next to Matu. I focused on him and found green eyes and a smile on his face. “And the magician who released it can no longer control it.”

  “Exactly.” I returned his mischievous grin. “Tonight, my friends, we’ll be using this spell. Please meet in the entrance courtyard at dusk.” I swept my gaze through the crowd. Some seemed confused and some accepted my assignment without question. Others looked at me with knowledge in their eyes, and of those, several smiled and nodded.

  “Dismissed,” I said.

  #

  I didn’t see Castillo or Cris that afternoon, but I couldn’t rid myself of Matu or Mari. They stayed in my rooms all day, and I witnessed them exchange several glances and once, Matu hooked Mari’s pinkie finger with his.

  I paced in front of the balcony window and occasionally escaped their mindless chatter to stare over the mountains at the dark sky hovering above Umon. Magic sizzled in the air as Castillo had sent his proclamation of war through the outer villages.

  I heard Grandmother’s voice and what she might say if such an appeal had come while she was alive. “We will not go, Echo. Let Nyth tear itself to shreds.”

  Oake hadn’t seen eye to eye with Grandmother, and if a call had been made, he would have answered it. I warred with myself. I wished to see Oake, look into his eyes, and tell him how grateful I was for his tutelage, maybe even show him that I’d found my voice. But I didn’t wish to see him on the battlefield. I didn’t wish to watch him die.

  For many would die tonight. The sky foretold it; the wind lamented it with a mournful song. I felt it in my very core. Death was unsettling, even before it happened.

  “Come inside, Echo,” Matu said, and I loosened my grip on the rai
ling and followed him inside, where the stench of death didn’t waft so strongly.

  That night, I still hadn’t seen Cris. “Where is he?” I complained to Matu.

  “He has many things to prepare,” Matu replied in that steady way of his. “He’ll be where he needs to be, when he needs to be there.”

  I wrung my hands and forced them flat against my clothes, pretending to smooth away the wrinkles in my robes in an attempt to calm my nerves.

  “Come, we should be where we need to be also.” I opened the door and ushered Mari and Matu out. We moved silently down the breezeway, the night air absorbing the minuscule sounds we made. I stuck to the shadows behind Matu as I crossed the courtyard, and I managed to bite back a cry when the sky flashed with cobalt light beyond the gate of the High Castle.

  The entrance courtyard gleamed with moonlight, silent and still. I didn’t see a single magician—nor did I spy a guard. Panic clawed at my stomach. I stumbled on the smooth rock path as my imagination ran wild. Matu looked over his shoulder and placed one finger over his lips. The action calmed me for some reason, perhaps because he didn’t seem disturbed by the absence of the magicians.

  Then I wasn’t either, for suddenly a man appeared near the wall. “Castillo,” I breathed and quickened my pace. As I drew nearer to the gate, I found it lined with robed magicians. My eyes hadn’t detected their dark clothes among the shadows, and they blended in seamlessly with their hoods covering their faces.

  “We stand ready,” Castillo whispered when I reached him. I squeezed his hand as Mari and Matu took their places in line, bringing their hoods over their heads to conceal themselves fully in the darkness.

  The sky flashed blue again, now much brighter and much closer. The armies of Umon were nearby, and they were ready.

  “Open the gate,” I said in a loud voice. “Mouths closed until I give the signal.”

  Forty-Eight

  The marching of boots against stone sounded like thunder. The army of Umon moved through the widening gate and into the entrance courtyard without care for who might be alerted to their presence.

  They went over benches and rock walls, trampling everything. Fifty, one hundred, two hundred soldiers marched past, and with each step, a spark of hope flared in my heart.

  At the rear, a squadron of magicians followed the militia of Umon. Upon entering the courtyard, they scattered left or right and joined the shadows. Our magical numbers swelled by five dozen.

  Perhaps this crazy plan was possible. Perhaps we could dethrone the High King with a small army and the element of surprise.

  A door swung open on the veranda at the far end of the courtyard. A shout sounded, and within seconds the army of Umon had fallen to one knee, weapons pointed toward the balconies. In those same seconds, the archers of Nyth converged, shooting arrows from unseen places. None of the arrows came near the shadows lining the gate. I clenched my fists to remind myself not to let my voice fly and drop those weapons before they found their marks.

  I must not reveal our position. The High King would use his magic to protect himself. He just needed to be convinced he was in danger.

  Three minutes became ten, and many of Umon’s army lay on the ground, arrows protruding from shoulders and necks. Finally, the last Nythinian archer fell, and a great cheer rumbled the earth as the army of Umon celebrated.

  Magic whizzed forward from further within the castle, and it stank of greed and darkness. It reminded me of Gibson’s breath; it reminded me of how I felt when I had killed him. Powerful and fearsome; deadly and destructive.

  The army of Umon vibrated with the magic before the screaming started. I reached out involuntarily and latched onto Castillo’s arm. He pulled me closer, moving his mouth near my ear. “Now?”

  I shook my head no, mouthing the words Not yet.

  Men careened around the courtyard, clutching their faces and falling without catching themselves. The sounds reverberated in my soul, and my magic reacted violently. My sister’s stricken face flickered through my head. The way the soldiers convulsed and wailed reminded me of the way the High King had stolen her life force and claimed it as his own.

  The magic suddenly zipped away, being called back by its owner, soaring over the rooftops and toward the orchard. I watched it, drawing a deep breath in the absence of dark magic.

  “Next time.” I glanced down and found my fingers entwined with Castillo’s. When I met his eye, he nodded grimly.

  Movement in the courtyard caught my peripheral vision, and I turned away from Castillo. A man strode through the fallen soldiers, touching the shoulders of some, and leaning down to speak with others. Magic flowed with him, vibrant and alive, seeping up through the cobbles as he called it forth from the lands.

  “Oake.” My heart squeezed too tightly, much too tightly. I turned to Castillo. “You brought Oake?”

  Horror warred with relief in Castillo’s face. “He’s been planning this rebellion with us for over a year. Cris knew he was important to you and begged him to stay behind in Iskadar, but he refused. I’m sorry.”

  My heart beat faster with every word, and not only because his explanation was quite possibly the longest one I’d ever heard him give. “Over a year?”

  “Before you left Iskadar, even.”

  A flare of anger licked through me before I turned back to the courtyard. My eyes met Oake’s across the expanse, his blazing with emerald fire and mine widening as I watched a plume of magic soar over the High Castle.

  “Watch out!” I shouted, throwing my hands up as I spun. “Now!” I yelled to my magicians. “Now! Sing now!”

  Their voices circled each other as some started singing and others didn’t join in fast enough. I flew forward with the impact of an explosion behind me. Rain began to fall like cold needles against my skin as I lay on the fiery hot cobbles.

  Someone helped me up, and I turned back to survey the scene in the courtyard. “Sing!” I called once more before the sky pulsed and everything froze.

  My chest wouldn’t expand properly as the High King soared toward me. He landed close to me, and still I hadn’t been able to do so much as blink. His eyes looked almost feline, with vertical slits among a bright orange pupil.

  “Well done, Echo,” he said. “I truly didn’t think you could turn my own magicians against me.” He flicked his eyes left-right, right-left, and looked back at me. “No matter what you have taught them, they’re no match for me.” He moved, and spoke, and breathed in real time, yet I, and everything around me, didn’t. Next to me, Castillo reached for me, but his hand barely moved.

  The High King switched his attention to him. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a son.” He licked his lips with a serpentine tongue. “But even you are better than Cris. He cannot even throw off a charm.”

  “Where is he?” I tried to ask, but the first word got stuck in my throat. The thought of Cris in his father’s clutches brought sourness to my stomach. My mind seemed to be working at the correct speed, and I began a mental chant.

  The High King shot his eyes back to mine. “You’ve been more trouble than you’re worth.” He thrust one hand toward me, and I soared backward, away from his evil eyes, away from Castillo, away from Oake.

  Away,

  away,

  away.

  Forty-Nine

  My feet ache endlessly; my back does, too. Around me, a strange swirl of lights blends into the deep navy darkness. Ahead of me, a figure moves with precision despite the shadows decorating the ground. They hold a lantern, searching for a choice spot of earth.

  Seemingly satisfied, the person drops to their knees and begins to cup dirt in their hands. Long, white hair flows over their shoulders, and their hands are gnarled and veined.

  “Grandmother?”

  She spares me a glance before returning to her task. I start toward her, noting the stabs of pain from my ruined feet and the jolts of hotness in my limbs. I have been hurt, and badly, but I don’t remember what happened.

  I drop
down, exhausted, next to Grandmother. She works with a determined look in her eye, one I often admired. “What are you looking for?”

  “Your father.” Her voice creaks like her rocking chair.

  My breath shudders out of my body as a new pain explodes in my stomach. “I’m hurt, Grandmother. Can you heal me?”

  “Not me, not me,” she says, scooping dirt with more intensity.

  I lie down, relishing the damp earth against the lightning hot pain in my back. I blink, and when I open my eyes it takes too long for the world to come back into existence. The sound of Grandmother digging fades into silence; the stars overhead go dark. I think this would be a nice place to die, and I drift.

  A handsome face fills my imagination, and he watches me with kind eyes. He says things that make me laugh. He dresses my unseen wounds and reads to me while I sleep. I try to reach for him, but I don’t have the strength to lift my arm.

  His face twists into another. This man wears a soldier’s hat and slides me a glance from under the brim. I’ve seen him before in the market and across the street from my tower. His magic plays with mine as if they are friends.

  I find myself smiling into the afterlife, longing to say goodbye to those I’ve grown to love. To Cris, who chose me for my magic but grew to love me for me. To Castillo, whose bond brings compassion and charity to my soul.

  Another man fills my mind, this time quite a few years older than Cris and Castillo. I have seen his smile in the mirror a thousand times.

  “There,” Grandmother says, erasing the man—my father—from my mental sight. “Look, Echo.”

  I whimper in response, trying to tell her that I’m injured and cannot look.

  A hand presses against my chest and a cooling numbness seeps into my body through the healing spell-song. This magic feels powerful, masculine. A man sings the magic into my body, but I’m not afraid.

  A seedling in my memory whispers that I’ve heard this voice before. I cannot place who it is before color explodes from my limbs in a blinding array of silver, gold, and rose. I draw a deep breath, cleansing my body and clearing my mind.