Sworn To Conflict: Courtlight #3 (20 page)

“I bet your weird transportation gifts have something to do with that metal stick I picked up,” she muttered.

He shrugged.

With narrowed eyes and hands on her hips she said, “So say I believe you—about the mines, about the Sarvinians. What’s so important about those mines that the emperor must hide the excavation from every citizen in the empire?”

His gaze darkened. “I don’t know.”

Ciardis said, “Have you asked the Sarvinians?”

“They won’t tell me. Something to do with their old myths. They seem to think even the knowledge of its existence is more dangerous than their continued deaths in the mines.”

“What are you saying?” Ciardis said.

“I’m saying that for over two hundred years
kith
have been enslaved to dig in the mines,” he said with bleakness in his golden eyes, “and the Empire has yet to find what it is seeking.”

F
or once, Ciardis was silent. She had no words. They walked back to the market area. She was shocked to see everything gone. The stalls had been broken down in minutes. The fabrics, the pottery, and the crafts had all disappeared. All that remained was the occasional scrap of dirty cloth on the ground and the tracks of feet that appeared in every direction. A chilly wind came and blew past. She wasn’t entirely sure it was natural. This was the only place she’d seen in the North so far that wasn’t covered in snow. In fact, the entire valley was green and blooming. She had time to wonder why, but wasn’t curious enough to ask. 

“Where is everybody?” she finally ventured.

Her twin shrugged, his voice grim. “Hiding. They’re afraid that you’ll turn them in to the Algardis Army. That the wrath of the Algardis troops will rain down upon them and imprison their families in the mines.”

“If they were so afraid, why were Warlord Inga and I brought here? Why risk the sanctity of your sanctuary at all?”

She looked away from her brother to see Thanar waiting for them with his black wings slightly spread, his arms crossed, and his legs in a wide stance.

“Because it was our only option,” Thanar said. “The protection around the sanctuary is failing.”

“What protection?” said Ciardis.

“The one that maintains the sight and sound barrier around the sanctuary.”

“I didn’t know they could make them that big,” muttered Ciardis, “What’s the catch?”

“We need two Weathervanes to maintain it,” Thanar said.

“You’re kidding, right?” Ciardis said.

“No, he’s not,” her brother said, rubbing tired eyes. “The protective spell on the valley is maintained by the Daemoni, but they alone cannot energize it. There’s a dome built of Daemoni spells that is protecting the sanctuary from the naked eye, hides it from the mage scryers of the Empire, keeps it at a moderate temperature to ensure that food can be grown inside, and shields it from direct mage attacks. Without it the Algardis Army would have found this place years ago.”

“And they still try,” interrupted Thanar with hard eyes. “General Barnaren is smart. He has employed physical and magical tactics to find this place recently. Just two weeks ago he sent a detachment of troops to comb the mountainside by hand not two miles from here. The protections of the crystal are good, but they aren’t that good. The troops would have seen the dark cavern, my posted men, and eventually investigated.”

Caemon agreed. “And if they had, we would have had to either kill them or imprison them. Either way another detachment would be sent this area, and then another, until their focus narrowed here.”

“And the Old Ones?” Ciardis asked abruptly.

Her brother turned to her in surprise. “What about them?”

“They’re your allies, aren’t they?” she asked. He looked stupefied. As if he had not the faintest notion of what she was talking about. Before he could inquire more, Thanar stepped forward. “Miss Weathervane, regardless of how you feel about my methods, you must see that the families and children here want nothing but safety. To know that they can live without fear of being enslaved.”

“I know that,” said Ciardis harshly, “but what I don’t know is if you’re telling me the whole truth. How can this be real? A band of escaped slaves hiding in the Northern Mountains, being hunted by the Algardis Army under the pretext of a war? It sounds a little far-fetched.”

“Far-fetched to you,” Thanar said shortly. “Life to us.”

“Even if what you say is true and the army hunts you, who toils away in the mines now?” Ciardis stressed, “Can you truly believe that the dozens of
kith
here are the last of their race north of the border?”

Thanar smiled cruelly. “Of course not. Only those that got away. And you misunderstand: the general doesn’t hunt us to return a small pittance of slaves to the mines. He hunts us to keep their secret hidden. The secret of enslavement of generations, the secret that no one is safe from the greed of the Imperial family, the secret that they would create a war to capture what they seek.”

“And what is that which they seek?” Her voice was sharp.

“No, Weathervane. That is not for you to know. Not yet.”

“You’re asking me to trust you. To go against everything I believe in to help you.”

“No, Ciardis,” Caemon said. “He’s asking you to save his people and live up to our family’s creed: ‘a noble clan with powers above all.’”

The creed that had been inscribed in her family’s book so long ago. She remembered reading it and knowing that she finally belonged. That regardless of the deaths of all her blood relations, she had never been truly alone.

“‘Above All,’ Ciardis,” Caemon said, “was homage to our family’s service to the empire. Not to the Imperial Family. To the empire, to its people. To right injustices and use our strength to ensure good.”

Her brother searched her eyes. “Don’t you want to be a part of that?”

His face was beseeching, his eyes earnest as he looked at her. Ciardis felt her heart break in two and her resolve shatter. She wasn’t sure she believed the story yet, but she couldn’t deny the evidence in front of her eyes of a hunted people. If a sanctuary was what they wanted, then she would do her best to provide it, and then she would have some sharp questions for her Imperial benefactor, starting with what the hell was going on in the north.

She looked over at Thanar, determination written on her face. Screw the courts if they denied these people a home, a haven. Damn them twice to hell if they were the ones that were the cause of it. She would get down to the bottom of this, but for now she had a shield to restore.

“Let’s go.” Surety laced her tone.

As they walked past the hovels that served as homes and through the fields where the refugees had planted food, Ciardis felt nothing. Not pain, not sadness, not joy, not sorrow. Only an empty core at her center. She couldn’t believe the betrayal that was reverberating in her mind. It was one thing for the courts to castigate her, quite another for them to do it to a people innocent of anything except trying to live a regular life.

Before them in a field empty of grass and rocks stood a mighty crystal. It glowed with the morning sun. But it wasn’t very bright. In fact, the light had faded to a dim pulse. Sucking in a breath sharply, she turned on her mage sight. It was just as the Daemoni feared. The geas was on its last leg. Patches empty of magic were already flickering into existence on the wall of the dome surrounding them high above. Through the open patches snow whistled through on the high winds from the surrounding mountain peaks. It was clear that the sight and sound shield surrounding the entire sanctuary was failing.

“I tried to replenish it alongside the Daemoni mages,” her brother explained, “but it needs the powers of at least two Weathervanes. From the inscription at the base, there were three of our ancestors who created this crystal alongside five Daemoni mages, imbued it with magic, and set up this haven.”

She tilted her head, curious. “Our ancestors were aware of the Sarvinian mines? And did nothing?”

Caemon smiled. “This was built long before the Initiate Wars and the mines were discovered. The sanctuary has been here for at least four hundred years and has been written in the lore of the
kith
for just as long.”

She blinked.

“What do we need to do?”

“My brother, my sister, and I are the strongest of the Daemoni mages,” said Thanar. He beckoned for two other Daemoni to come forth.

“We will do the chant,” said Thanar with the two other Daemoni behind him, “and you will strengthen us.”

“It will not take much effort,” ventured the Daemoni female mage. “Merely a strong reservoir of power.”

“That I can do,” said Ciardis.

Thanar nodded sharply, and as one the group of Daemoni mages stepped forward. They called forth the sigils laced in the crystal. Six pulsing sigils rose from the crystal into the air. Throbbing with the beat of the Daemoni hearts.

Ciardis looked over at Caemon.

“Sister, it will take them a minute to prepare.” he said, holding up a hand. “In the meantime, tell me what has been taught to you about two Weathervanes working in concert.”

Ciardis didn’t think it was the time to be loquacious. She said bluntly, “All I know is that I get queasy when you’re working around me.”

He narrowed his eyes and demanded, “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she said sharply. “You forget, brother that I didn’t even know what I was until five months ago. I’ve had even less time to learn.”

“My apologies,” he said shortly, “but the mages of the Imperial courts have done nothing short of denying you your powers. The bastards have done it on purpose. I could swear on it.”

“Another thing on the list of problems I need to hash out with the Imperial courts,” she said dryly.

“Right,” he said, rubbing his brow in irritation. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to join hands and meld our gifts. In this instance, I will take over your gift.”

Before she could protest, he hurried forward. “We have no other choice. This must be done and done correctly, or the shield will fall within moments and the backlash will kill everyone in this valley.”

He looked over at the three chanting Daemoni mages with worry in his eyes. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “All right.” Reluctant but aware of the need.

“All right,” he said more calmly.

They joined hands and linked fingers. Despite the worry in his eyes, Ciardis felt the steadiness of his stance. He was ready. She just hoped that she was. They turned to face forward, standing three feet behind the Daemoni’s outstretched wings.

Ciardis swallowed deeply as she watched the sigils rise. An ancient script as old as Sahalian but different, the art of sigils was one lost in modern times. She had no idea what the sigils meant because they were unreadable to the untrained eye, but dark and evil came to mind.

Caemon rose up their joined hands and unleashed his power. In a rush she felt him join her mage core to his, and watched as their powers twined around each other like living snakes. The spools of power rose up in the air in front of her eyes, split, and fed into the Daemoni mages in front of them. The recharge effort had begun. Ciardis just hoped they weren’t too late.

As the Daemoni mages finished and she felt relief wash over her, she let a small smile grace her face. Thanar turned to them and said, “It will take some time for the crystal to fully awaken. Please do not wander far; we may need your strength later.”

*****

H
ours later, Ciardis and Caemon were walking in the darkness of the fields in the sanctuary. Night had fallen and the grass was abuzz with the sound of crickets and grasshoppers singing their serenades. She had to smile at how serendipitous it was. Walking side-by-side with her brother in a place that almost seemed a dream, it was so perfectly formed.

Softly, she asked, “How long have you been here? Coming to the Sanctuary?”

“All my teen years,” he said with a laugh.

She turned with surprise to him. “And you still went back? Back to the soldiers’ camp?”

“I had no choice. I knew that if I disappeared for long periods they would track me and find me here. The bracelets I wear have always allowed them to find me before.”

“And now?”

“They are dormant. I have no master. I’d like to keep it that way,” he said in a teasing tone.

“You will.” Her voice was a promise. A pact.

“Ciardis—”

“Why did you come back?” she asked at the same time.

“Back?” he said, his tone cautious.

“To camp yesterday night. Why were you standing outside of my tent?”

“I told the truth. I just wanted to see you. To explain. It’s a truly a miracle that you arrived when you did today.”

“A miracle or an intervention,” she muttered in disgust.

“What do you mean?” he said, pausing to bend down to pick up a dandelion. Dew filled its pedals.

Reluctantly, she spoke. “We went to see the Old Ones today. Myself and the general’s contingent.”

He whistled. “The Old Ones don’t just meet with you. They overwhelm you.”

Her head snapped up in shock as she looked at him. “How did you know that?”

“Because I’ve met them.”

“When?”

“Months back.”

“And?”

“And nothing. They nearly killed me. I was discovered back in Barnaren’s camp with blood coming out of too many orifices to count and shaking in pain. I was put into a healing sleep for a month after that.”

She was silent.

“What did you experience?”

She breathed out slowly. “About the same.”

“Did they speak with anyone?”

“They pushed their power on Sebastian and spoke to no one,” she said. “But do you know why we went to see the Old Ones in the first place?”

He turned to her questioningly.

“Because the Old Ones were said to be on the side of the Sarvinians.”

He let out a sharp bark of laughter that he couldn’t quite contain.

“Whoever said that was lying. The Old Ones are nature spirits. They always have their own agenda. For now and since time immortal, they have served the Algardis emperor. Easing his soldiers’ paths in the mountains, removing the bitter cold of frost from their encampments, depositing meat and game for their feasts.”