Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1) (30 page)

Hurrying away, she headed straight back to the tent. Vennic or no, she’d not leave Darius’s side again.

✵

Howls of pain woke her from sleep. Arden was on him in an instant, her hands grasping his arms to keep him from flailing. The sweat on his brow sparkled in the dim lantern light, and his eyes pinched tightly closed as another wave of agony shuddered through him.

“Breathe, kendala,” she whispered to him. “Breathe through it. I’m here.”

“I…” His words seeped through gritted teeth. “I can’t. I can’t bear it. Please…”

She pressed her lips against his cheek, trying to be strong for him, but seeing him that way… She didn’t know how much longer she could stand to watch him suffer. After five days, he rarely had moments of consciousness, and when he did, they were filled with little clarity and terrible pain. Releasing him, she reached for the vial of sleeping potion. Not much remained, but hopefully it was enough to see him through until the herbalist returned at dawn with a fresh batch.

“Here.” She uncorked the vial. “Drink this and rest. If you get some sleep, maybe—”

He reached up, weakly grabbing her wrist to stop her. “Arden, enough. It’s time.”

Trembling, she shook her head. “No. Do not ask that of me. There’s still some time. We might yet find—”

Letting go of her arm, he touched her face, a strained smile lifting one corner of his parched lips. “Please, asahana. Release me from this. Get Vennic. He’ll make it swift.”

Arden collapsed against his chest, unable to contain her sorrow. With no hope in sight, he made her promise to end it when it became too much for him. But how could she do such a thing? She didn’t want him to suffer, but letting him go would be the same as ripping her still-beating heart from her chest. It was selfish of her. The thought of living without him…

“Please, love.” His hand rested against her hair, soothing her despite his misery. “I haven’t the strength to do it myself.”

In the near-darkness, she traced the hateful lines of the markings on his skin. “I don’t know how to let you go. How can you ask that of me?”

“There is nothing you can’t do, Arden.” He sucked in a gasp as another wave of misery pulled at him. “Please…”

She held his hand until the worst of it passed, then insisted on the potion. Everyone else was asleep, and she needed to wake Vennic for what Darius wanted done. She waited until he succumbed to the decoction, quietly promising it would be over soon, then stood to go when the rhythm of sleep settled into his breathing.

More than once she tried to leave, but found herself unable to go. Instead, Arden paced the floor, turning over every last scrap of information they learned about the corrupting waters and any of the potential ways to stop it they hadn’t tried. What had they missed? Did they forget a step? Were the ingredients prepared incorrectly? There had to be something.

As a last resort, she removed the Gordian dagger from its chest, wondering for the millionth time how it dispelled the vrata gesh, yet was unable to save Darius from its power. Per the dwarves, piercing the skin in any way caused the victims to bleed out excessively, and they expired in less than a minute. She turned the weapon over in her hands, focused intently on finding its source of power. Why was she not born with a mage’s ability, rather than some sort of concentration of light? What good did that do her if she couldn’t save the man she loved?

As the dagger rotated in her palms, the end of the hilt came into view, the maker’s mark dark against the shining metal.

Morkevith: defender of life.

The longer she thought on it, the more something prodded at her. She was missing something, but what? Each time she handled the dagger, the more certain she was that magic was involved in its creation, but it was made by dwarven hands. Dwarves had never, not once in all of recorded history, been mages. It was as much a fact as living beings needing air to breathe, or the sun rising and setting each day.

“Did you know, asahan’dri, that it doesn’t require a natural gift with magic?”

Erlishai’s words exploded inside her head. Alchemy? Was that the explanation? Was it really so simple?

Not wasting a moment, Arden leapt to her feet and snatched up the dagger and pouch of broken shards. Shaking at the possibility, she rushed out of the tent, startling the guards posted there.

“No matter what he says, how he begs,” she nearly shouted at them, “no one is to harm him. Do you understand? Keep him alive at all costs!”

The two men answered with stunned salutes, but she raced away before hearing their replies.

Regardless of the hour, she needed to speak with Erlishai. If there was any chance at all, she had to make use of every spare second.

Chapter 30

Arden

When Vennic found her, Arden was bent over the hot coals of the alchemist’s forge, the bellows slowly urging the coals up to temperature.

“Riyah, we’ve been searching for you,” he said, stopping outside of the workspace. “When the guards told me what your orders were—”

“And they still stand.” She didn’t look up from her work. “If you think to dissuade me in this—”

“He’s in agony, Arden,” Vennic insisted. “We promised him when—”

She spun on him, angry. “Yes, when all hope was gone and he could bear no more. I remember. Hope is not gone, though. I may yet save him from this and prevent a civil war. If there is even the slimmest chance I can keep this land from bearing that, if I can reverse this horrible evil, I will exhaust myself trying. Will you help, or must I do everything myself? I’d rather you were with me, but if you work against me in this, nothing will save you from what I will do to you.”

Vennic stepped back a pace, stunned by her sudden rage. After a moment, he relaxed, hands up in surrender. “If you think it’s worth the effort, I’ll help. What’s to be done?”

“There’s a grindstone at the blacksmith on the other end of the settlement. Nasere has gone to see it cleaned and transported here. I need it as soon as possible to begin grinding the Gordian shards to dust. If you can find superfine files, others can help, too. Erlishai is in the tent, sealing it from drafts.”

“The Gordian shards?”

Unable to stand still, Arden returned to the forge, throwing more wood on the blazing fire. “They may purify his blood if we act quickly. They may be broken, but still contain magic we can use.”

“But dwarves can’t wield—”

“Alchemists can with the right tools,” she said, exasperated. She didn’t have time to explain herself. “Now, are you going to help, or waste what little chance we have with talking?”

He was silent a moment, so she spared him a glance to judge his reaction. The smallest smile played across his lips. “Darius said much the same thing at Orinda Valley, and I see the same conviction in your eyes now, riyah. I’ll follow your lead and let the men know your orders were given with reason, not out of desperation.”

Grateful he understood, she nodded at him and returned to her task. If she was to save the last of the Marillion line, there was much work left to do.

✵

Twice Arden stopped what she was doing to check on Darius. The visits were heartbreaking, and each time he was weaker than before, and he begged her to let him go. Her insistence that he hold on a little while longer never went well, though he eventually agreed before slipping back into unconsciousness.

She worked alongside both Erlishai and Toma, the blacksmith. It took hours of crafting a mold, but they finally managed to replicate Gordia’s mark with the help of a young girl with a talent for sculpting and painting. Hayda’s hands were steadier than anyone she’d ever seen, each movement precise, infused with purpose and beauty. By the time it was done and ready to be cast, Arden’s confidence in her solution was high, but nothing was certain until they tested it.

“Give me some time,” Erlishai said as she readied the liquid metal. “I haven’t the tools he did, so I must not be disturbed while I channel the magic.”

“Come, riyah,” Vennic said, guiding Arden away by the shoulders. “We’ll get food while she finishes.”

“But I’m not—”

He cut off her protests. “You must keep your energy up, Arden. You can’t save him if you haven’t the strength to stand.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“You’ve not eaten all day. No arguments.”

Despite her impatience, she capitulated, knowing he was right. Without Erlishai’s piece, they were totally stalled. All but two of her ten shards had been ground into fine powder, thanks to the work of twenty people working in shifts from dawn until dusk, and what was left she set aside for testing and analysis. At least breaking for food would keep her somewhat occupied while she waited.

The mood around the bonfire was very different from the meals she’d taken there when they first arrived. The gathered spoke in hushed conversations, and even the children were subdued as they picked at their stew. Arden ate in silence, the small discussions between Ehlren and Vennic only a mild distraction from the thoughts that raced through her mind. If she was wrong, if the method she devised with Erlishai didn’t work, what would become of her? There’d been no word from Castle Dulaine, but she doubted the words of a dying king no one but they were there to witness would carry much weight. For all Ingram knew, the letters could’ve been false, forged by an enemy wishing the kingdom ill. There were ways to test their validity, true, but no means of judging Darius’s state of mind from so far away. What would Ingram think of the missives?

Her stew only half-eaten, her appetite died. To know what Darius wished for her was one thing, convincing the nobility she had nothing to do with the request or the circumstances under which it was made was something else entirely.

“He must survive,” she said softly, mostly to herself. “The houses will never allow me to sit on the throne this way.”

“My lady?” Ehlren asked, confused by her random interjection.

Her brow creased, her worries pulling her face into a frown. “Darius could send a thousand letters from here, but none would accept me as successor. No blood binds me to the crown. If he…” She paused, unable to say it. “If I can’t stop this, Valentia will splinter. I imagine Danumbar will seize the opportunity as soon as they know of it.”

“You can’t know that,” Ehlren said, attempting to reassure her. “Perhaps those human nobles will surprise you.”

A strange, sad chuckle escaped her. “The only surprise I’d expect from them is if they let me live. I can only imagine what match Ingram and my father would have to negotiate to work that miracle. There are two removed branches of the Marillion line that might seek the title, and the choices I’d have with either family are limited to a drunk and one who prefers the company of other men. Having met both, I don’t see myself having much sway in how they run Valentia. Darius is a rare man, and I…” Again, she faltered. Arden stood, unable to continue following that path of possibilities. “I need to go. If nothing else, just to watch her progress. Excuse me.”

After turning in her dishes, she headed back to the alchemist. The glow from her station was visible halfway through the settlement. With a sudden surge of hope, Arden jogged towards the source, praying for good news.

Stopping outside the sphere of light, she squinted into the brightness, searching for signs of Erlishai, but everything within the circle of workbenches was swallowed up in the illumination. Over the low, rumbling hum of magic, she heard a single voice chanting.

“
Aruli, asanti, hedara, morkevith!
”

The words grew louder, the light brighter, and the rumble turned into a roar so loud she was forced to cover her ears. It expanded to a deafening crescendo, and she moved to run, when all of it suddenly disappeared, sucked away into silence. She turned to look in time to see Erlishai falter, her knees giving way. Arden rushed over, holding up her frail body as she panted from her efforts. As gently as she could, she led the alchemist over to a seat near the tent and eased her down onto it.

“Are you all right? Can I get you some water?”

She shook her head and looked up with a smile. “I’m fine, asahan’dri, but thank you. It’s been quite some time since I channeled so much power into an item. A little rest, and we can continue.”

Though she didn’t want to rush her, she feared time was slipping away faster than they could work. “What can I do to help?”

“You must test the brand. Heat a shard and hammer the word into it.”

Skeptical, she wasn’t sure her hands would bring the desired results. “Will it work for me?”

She nodded, confident. “It’s an infused tool now. Do as I’ve said, impress the brand into the shard, and that will tell us if we’ve been successful.”

Still unsure, Arden tried not to let her worry show. “All right. As you say, then. How hot for the shard?”

“Until it burns white as the midday sun. Impress the brand, strike all three points, then submerge it in the bath.”

Arden left her to sit and set out to work. She stoked the fire once more, clamped the shard tightly with the tongs, and waited for it to come to temperature. The line between white hot and molten was very thin, so she needed to be careful. Too hot, and she’d lose the metal, too cool, and the brand wouldn’t leave a full mark. As she worked the forge, she sensed eyes on her, but didn’t stop to see who looked on.

Finally, the shard began to glow. A minute more, and red shifted to orange, then pale yellow. The moment it was white, she removed it from the heat, resting it on the anvil beside her. From the table, she grabbed the hammer and brand. Holding the marker by the horizontal grip, Arden struck the center vertical point twice, then the ones to either side. Repeating that three times, she hoped it was enough, as the metal was cooling quickly, revealing black patches through the glow of heat. Brand and hammer aside, she took up the shard with the tongs once more, fully submerging it in the water to harden.

She waited.

Gloves on, she pulled it from the bath and set it on the workbench. The shard was black as pitch, covered in a coat of slag.

She picked up the polishing cloth.

With a single swipe, the soot fell away, revealing a streak of gleaming metal unmistakable in how it bent the light. Stunned, she braced herself against the table, a few tears escaping to drop onto the table’s surface. It was more than seeing an ancient skill recovered. It was more than something lost, found.

“Arden, what’s happened? Did it fail? Is it—”

Eager to share her happiness, she spun and flung herself at Naya, crying. “It worked, riyah. I figured it out. I can save him! I know it!”

Her hands were steady on Arden’s back, but she seemed very distant. “Asahan’dri, you must know.”

She stilled against her, then pulled back. “Know what?”

Her face was unreadable, but her words were heavy with sorrow. “He breathes his last, Arden. It’s too—”

“No!” She whirled and set everything in motion, not wasting a second. “Not when I’m so close! I refuse!”

Grabbing the brand, she sprinted away, retrieving a vial of the shard dust suspension from Erlishai’s tent before racing back to her own. She refused to give up. She’d rather die herself than not use every second to save him.

The moment she entered the tent, Arden pushed the brand into the waiting brazier. Shoving her way past Vennic and Ehlren, she crawled onto the palette beside Darius’s gaunt form. Sharp, shallow breaths barely lifted his chest, but he was breathing still.

“Help me lift his head,” she said to anyone within range. “Open his mouth.”

Naya settled in beside her. She hesitated a moment, but then slid a hand under his head, the other opening his mouth. Arden pulled out the stopper and tossed it aside. After she poured the solution into the back of his throat, Naya shut his jaw and she clamped down on his nose, willing him to swallow. Darius twitched in a weak battle, but Arden leaned over him, whispering in his ear.

“Please bear it a moment longer, kendala. Let me save you, and you save my heart.”

She heard it when he swallowed, and immediately released him to draw breath.

“The brand,” she turned to Ehlren, “bring it now.”

When she gripped the handle of the glowing symbol, she paused for a prayer, but no more than a heartbeat.

“Hold him,” Arden said.

Hands from every side grabbed on to Darius. With nothing left to lose, she braced herself and pressed the hot metal into the flesh above his heart. Darius screamed, but was too weak to fight them off. Arden pulled the brand away and tossed it to the floor, her breath held as he stilled.

Nothing happened for a very long time.

His breathing slowed further.

His pulse grew weak.

The hands of his friends pulled away one by one.

“Don’t you dare leave me,” she said, her words barely audible. “I can’t do this without you.”

Naya took her hand, but Arden’s eyes never left his face. “It’s time, riyah. You did everything you could.”

She ripped away, refusing to give up. “I won’t just—”

“Stars, look!”

Vennic’s words jarred her out of self-pity and she shifted her gaze to the ugly burn on Darius’s skin. Around it, the swirls and patterns of the vrata gesh faded, retracting deep into his skin. Gordia’s mark shimmered at its core, the magic pulling at the darkness, gathering it from where it spread. Darius quivered under the blankets, and his eyes moved rapidly beneath his lids. As the movements grew more violent, Naya stood and pulled her away. No one was sure how he might react to such a treatment, or the toll it would take on his body.

When no traces of darkness remained on his skin, Darius rolled, vomiting black bile onto the ground. The mass roiled under its own power, folding into itself as he collapsed on the edge of the pallet.

“Back away from it!” Naya shouted. She pushed past and grabbed the dagger from Arden’s belt. Launching herself towards the mass, she slammed the weapon into the writhing evil. “
Lav’resta!
”

With a high-pitched squeal, the undulating evil burst into a puff of smoke. Naya opened the tent flap, and the remnants dissipated in the slight spring breeze.

Arden rushed forward to Darius, to roll him back onto the furs with help from Vennic and Ehlren. Desperate for signs of life, she pressed her ear to his chest, careful to avoid the burn.

At his first breath, she released her own, but didn’t dare move, afraid to lose the possible victory. After a very long while, he coughed, stirring of his own accord.

“Water…”

Hearing him speak was enough to bring on her tears, but she kept from becoming hysterical. Arden sat up to look at him, hardly daring to believe he was still with her. Someone passed her a mug of water, and she helped him sit to drink.

He gulped the liquid down, then collapsed back onto the bed, breathing heavy. Though he still looked weak, she could already see some color returning to his mouth and cheeks.