The Dragonrider Heritage Second Series, page 11
On my other side, Violet stepped from the shadows of the giant potted ferns, exotic palms, and flowering ornamental trees like a shrike materializing from thin air. I clenched my jaw, determined not to let her see me flinch. Sweet Fates, I hadn’t even noticed her there. She was a lot stealthier than I’d ever given her credit for.
She cruised over, heels clicking over the stone floor, and stood by the end of the sofa with her arms crossed and her expression far more tense than I’d ever seen before. Her ruby red lips were pressed together firmly and her jaw worked back and forth as she seemed to study her employer like she was attempting to read his thoughts. Not a good sign. I’d never seen her be so … incomposed.
It made my hands curl into sweaty fists on my knees as I waited.
Something big and probably terrible had to be going on.
“I trust you’ve all had a pleasant evening thus far.” Arlan’s smooth voice came softly, but it was every bit as cold and concise as I remembered. He didn’t turn around or make a move as he continued, “I do apologize for the interruption, but I’m afraid this matter could not wait.”
“And what matter would that be?” Jaevid demanded. I could tell by that angry little crease right in the middle of his eyebrows he had no intention of making pleasantries. Not this time, anyway.
Arlan turned slowly, facing us with his hands clasped at his back. I really shouldn’t have been surprised that, even in fourteen years, he hadn’t aged a single day. He still looked exactly the same as the last day we’d spoken, all crowded into his private office in Osbran. No wrinkles anywhere. No gray hairs mixed into his deep golden hair. Not even a sign of any stubble on his pointed chin.
“One that we are able to discuss only briefly now, as time is of the essence. Violet, my dear, if you don’t mind, our new guests are currently entering via the balcony of the east wing. Be a dear and greet them for me.”
I didn’t know Violet all that well. I’d only met her a handful of times. Danced with her once. And tonight had probably been our longest actual conversation to date. But I knew in a single glance there was murder on her mind as her scarlet eyes narrowed and one corner of her lip curled in a half snarl.
Thatcher blushed ten shades of red as she reached her hand down the front of her evening gown and produced a very … tactically hidden dagger.
“Absolutely, my lord,” she hissed as she spun it through her fingers with incredible speed as she strode briskly away and disappeared into the manicured jungle-garden once again.
“What’s going on here?” Jaevid demanded with an ominous growl. He was already getting to his feet, rage fresh on his sharp features as he stared Arlan down. “Someone is sneaking into the castle? Who is it? What do they want? We must alert the guard—”
“Remain calm, please,” Arlan interrupted, his demeanor completely unfazed. “It’s nothing my agents can’t handle. I doubt anyone beyond this room will even be aware of it. And furthermore …” His tone took a hard edge as his gaze went steely. “They have not come here for you or any of the other esteemed guests gathered for the ball. Your family is quite safe, Commander, I assure you.”
Murdoc sat up straighter, his hands already clenched in fists. “Ulfrangar?” He snarled the word like a curse.
A little chill of panic tingled through my chest at the thought.
“Of course not. The individuals in question are an issue unrelated to any of your previous ventures, in most regards. They seek what I am about to give you.” Arlan stepped closer, pausing to look over our group with a pensive frown. His gleaming golden gaze halted when he got to Jaevid, studying him for a few silent seconds. “Information of the highest value. I trust you haven’t forgotten that you still owe me a favor?”
Jae’s brows rose some, recognition dawning over his features. His arms went slack at his sides as he slowly sank back down into his seat. “I-I … have not forgotten.”
“Good,” Arlan replied, seeming satisfied.
“But I thought we repaid you already,” Thatcher spoke up suddenly. “We helped you retrieve that magical mirror in Northwatch tower.”
“Indeed, you did, but that was an exchange for the information regarding how to deal with Iksoli,” Arlan clarified. “The favor I’m referring to was the payment agreed upon for my assistance in reclaiming the now King Phillip.”
“Ohhh.” Thatcher’s mouth scrunched up unhappily as he glanced between Murdoc and me. I guess he’d forgotten all about that encounter. Typical.
“Name it, then.” Jae cut straight to the chase. I guess he didn’t like all this dancing around details any more than I did.
Whatever or whoever this was about, Arlan was playing things unusually carefully by refusing to drop any names. I had to wonder if that was because he thought someone else might be listening in on us. Or maybe he thought one of us might betray him. Either way, I was beyond ready for him to get to the point. Especially since it sounded like we might have some extra company soon—if Violet couldn’t handle it herself, that is.
Arlan gave a deep, resigned sigh. “What I would require of you is not so simple, I’m afraid. I had hoped it might not come to this, but I find myself without another viable option. Take care and listen, as I won’t repeat any of what you are about to hear. It is risky enough to voice it aloud knowing those who would misuse this information are close by, but I find myself without another alternative.” He paused, seeming to collect himself for a moment before he fixed Jae with a somber, unblinking stare. “There is an artifact, of sorts, that must be retrieved from Nar’Haleen immediately. It must be done with extreme caution and complete secrecy. Even now, it is already in great jeopardy of falling into the wrong hands. I had placed it somewhere I believed it would be secure for the foreseeable future, but there has been a recent … drastic change in the sort of power Nar’Haleen has at its disposal.”
“What sort of change?” I asked, already bracing myself for the worst.
I’d heard Jenna and her advisors discussing the balance of power in the southern kingdoms a lot, in the past. We had known for a long time that the situation in the southern kingdoms was tense, at best. Downright genocidal, at worst. As best I could grasp it, there had been a rift between them long ago that had split the once-massive dynasty of Nar’Haleen in two. On his death bed, their last all-sovereign emperor had split the kingdom between his two sons, rather than choosing one over the other as a successor. Naturally, that had caused a lot more problems than it solved, and the kingdom now called Damaria was born. There were many who disapproved and believed this split weakened the dynasty. Succeeding emperors sought to reclaim Damaria in order to reunify their lands. But Damaria, apparently enjoyed being its own kingdom, and their king refused to give up his seat of power. Thus began a long, brutal, and bloody civil war that had raged on for centuries.
Then there was Rienka—its own little ball of problems.
Until right before the Tibran War, Rienka had been the royal city of Damaria. It was apparently the jewel of their entire kingdom, a flourishing, large port city that was the main thoroughfare for trade in and out of all the southern kingdoms. So, naturally, it had rocked a lot of very full merchant boats when they suddenly declared themselves an independent nation, stripping Damaria of its mighty navy that had operated out of the same ports there. Now, both Damaria and Nar’Haleen were on a mission to retake it, while Rienka defied them both with a superior fleet of ships that could outmaneuver anything else on those waters.
A mess? Oh yeah. I did not envy anyone with royal blood living in that part of the world. You were either a part of the problem … or a walking target. Both, in some respects.
So, no, the idea of going there for any reason did not fill me with happy, warm, and fuzzy feelings. Maldobar had a tentative agreement with Rienka just to keep trade routes open and commerce flowing, but that was only going to last as long as they could keep themselves free of Damarian or Nar’Haleenan domination. It was the political equivalent of a dung-filled tornado down there, and I was not eager to join in the fun.
Judging by the look of controlled exasperation on Arlan’s eerie, ageless features, neither was he. “The divine sort, I’m afraid.”
Oh. Wonderful. This again.
“You want us to sail to Nar’Haleen to get some secret divine trinket?” Murdoc arched an eyebrow. “Why can’t your agents do this for you? We have no experience in maneuvering through that part of the world.”
Arlan’s stare was as exacting as it was ominous. It sent a little chill up my spine and made every hair on the back of my neck prickle. “Not merely a trinket. An ancient codex containing vast amounts of divine power and precious knowledge that must not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands.”
“Hands like those currently sneaking into the castle?” Jae guessed.
Arlan nodded. “Precisely.”
I shifted in my seat, my stomach churning at the thought as that word—divine—kept echoing through my brain. More divine magic? Fates curse it all, not this, not again. Whenever we got mixed up with the dealings of anything divine, it never went well. Someone always got hurt.
Usually me.
“Be clear, then, who are these people? What do they have to do with the change in Nar’Haleen’s power? And why do they want this codex?” Murdoc pressed, obviously nearing the end of his patience. His left eye always got a little twitchy when he was about to lose his cool. “If we are going to be of any use at all in this, then we need to know what we’re up against.”
Arlan’s expression darkened, his jawline going rigid as his glowing eyes panned away, staring off into the shadows of the solarium as though he were trying to compose himself before he said it out loud. “They call themselves the Hands of Fate, but what they are is … unfathomable. They are a powerful group of individuals who have been instructed in the ways of Avoran magic, gifted with our empowered weapons, and sent to claim this codex and the secrets it contains so that they may crack open the very gate of the divine realm.”
12
CHAPTER TWELVE
You could have heard a mouse sneeze in the silence that hung in the dim, cool night air of the solarium. I let out a breath that hung in my throat, almost choking me. Jaevid’s face had gone completely pale, as though he’d died on the spot and was just propped up like a mannequin in fancy armor. And Thatcher, well, he looked about a second away from throwing up.
Only Murdoc managed to keep his composure as he kept his piercing stare on Arlan. “Is that even possible?”
Bowing his head slightly, Arlan’s eyes closed and he turned his face away. “When aided by a high-ranking Avoran sorceress with specific knowledge of divine magic … yes, it very well might be. Such things were not beyond the sorcerers of old, long before the War of the Stones. Now, new talent thirsts for that ancient knowledge.”
“New talent like your sister,” I guessed before I could even stop to think about what I was suggesting. “Her name is Sadeera, right? This is her doing, isn’t it? Another one of her aspects? Like the one that had infiltrated the Ulfrangar?”
He nodded once. “I believe so. In fact, I’m almost certain her aspect is in Nar’Haleen at this very moment, acting as advisor to the emperor and encouraging his campaign to find the codex first.”
“Gods and Fates,” Thatcher gasped as he sank lower into his seat and combed a hand through his messy, light blond hair. “Why, though? Why does she want to tear down the gate to the divine realm?”
“To conquer it,” Arlan replied simply. “To learn its secrets and have the power of the gods for herself. You see, if a mortal manages to slay a god … they become the inheritor of its power. While we Avoran elves live for centuries, far beyond lowlanders like yourselves, we are still mortal. We can still be killed in a very mortal sense. But a god cannot truly die. At least, not in the normal sense. Its essence—its power—must go somewhere. With the proper rituals and knowledge, one might aspire to make themselves an vessel for such power.”
“You’re saying she’s trying to make herself an all-powerful goddess?” Jaevid asked, his tone low and hushed.
“I believe so,” Arlan replied. “But she is a long way from that goal. This codex is only one of many things she needs in order to even access the divine realm that way. The more of these required ingredients we can snatch from her grasp, the greater our chance of both destroying another of her aspects and thwarting her plan entirely. But first, we must ensure that the codex is beyond her grasp. That is the first and most important step if we are to thwart her plans.”
“I don’t understand. These people, the ones who call themselves the Hands of Fate, are currently attempting to infiltrate this castle because they think you have this codex already?” Jae pressed.
“No. But they know that I am responsible for hiding it away two hundred years ago, and they seek to … extract its exact location from me.” Arlan moved as smoothly as a jungle cat as he walked over and stood in our midst, his glowing gaze panning over every single one of us. “I can provide more details, specifics of its location, before your departure, but such information must be carefully guarded and I will not risk divulging it here. Tonight, you will return to your festivities and act as though nothing is amiss. Then you will leave here first thing in the morning and go to Southwatch. One of my agents will meet you at the Speckled Sow—a tavern on the eastern end of the docks. She will give you further instructions. You must tell no one of your movements and plans, not even your family members. My sister is already aware of all of you. She knows we have been involved in the past, and likely suspects I would call upon you if I had the need. But with her focus now on Nar’Haleen, I am counting on her reliance upon her agents in the Hands of Fate to give you as much of a head start as possible. I intend to draw them off, to behave as though you have rejected my plea for help, and depart here in despair. That should give you ample opportunity to depart and be out of the kingdom before they catch on.”
Another awkward pause made the squeaking of the metal springs in the sofa cushions painfully obvious, like rusty little screams, as Thatcher squirmed in his seat.
“Nar’Haleen is a long way from here,” Murdoc pointed out. He rubbed the short beard and rough stubble along his jaw as he stared ahead, deep in thought. “Four or five days at sea, and that’s if the winds are favorable and we don’t get accosted by pirates or warships. Then the mission itself will take time. None of us have any experience moving in Rienkan, Damarian, or Nar’Haleenan culture. We’re going to stick out like warts on an extra toe. Not to mention I’m the only one who even speaks the Sokraal language they use down in that part of the world. Then there’s the journey home. That’s a lot of room for risk. And time-wise it could take up to a month.”
Thatcher cast him a sympathetic glance, like he already knew why Murdoc was so concerned about the time this little errand would take. Not that it was all that hard to sort out. Murdoc was working at Blybrig Academy now, teaching combat fundamentals to fledgling and avians nearly year-round. He couldn’t just disappear. Not without someone noticing and getting too curious for comfort, namely his family—and very pregnant wife. They would be worried. They’d start asking questions, and rightfully so. Phoebe would be ready to tear the whole kingdom apart looking for him.
After all, the last time Murdoc had gone missing, he had been captured by murderous assassins and basically held prisoner in their ranks for eighteen years.
And Jae? Well, people would definitely notice if the Academy Commander himself just vanished without an explanation. Nothing secretive or discreet about that. And then there was his family … he had a wife and three young kids. Not to mention more on the way. This little errand had all the earmarks of being dangerous and potentially deadly. He shouldn’t even be asked to put himself in danger like this again.
Sooo … that really only left one option. But, man, did it ever suck.
“I’ll do it,” I muttered.
All of a sudden, I felt every eye in the room focus squarely on me. Even Arlan seemed taken aback and blinked hard, like he thought he might be hallucinating.
“Isandri has been teaching me some Sokraal. Enough to get by. And of all of us, I’m one of the only ones no one is going to panic over if I happen to disappear for a month or two. Jae can cover for me at Blybrig and to my sister. So, I’ll do it. But only if Jae stays here. Got it?” I added quickly. “And I get to pick who tags along with me.”
Arlan’s eyes narrowed some, but I couldn’t tell if it was from irritation or amusement. “You were not the one who made the deal, Your Highness.”
I glared back at him. “Maybe not. But you never specified that he was the only one who could pay this debt. Jaevid has a lot more to lose than I do. Or, rather, he’s got more people who can’t afford to lose him. So, consider him officially out of the game. I’ll go to Nar’Haleen and play fetch for you.”
“I’m sitting right here, you know,” Jaevid grumbled under his breath.
“Just shut up, look surprised, and be grateful, would you?” I shot him a warning glare. “Going over the Southern Sea all the way to Nar’Haleen isn’t like skipping across the border to Luntharda. There won’t be any hasty retreats to safe territory. No cavalry to call in if things get shaky. This is a lot more dangerous than anything we’ve tried before, Jae. It’s literally a warzone down there. We might get killed in a battle we have nothing to do with before we even find this codex.”
“He’s right,” Murdoc agreed. “You’ll be going into extremely hostile foreign territory. The kingdoms of Rienka, Damaria, and Nar’Haleen have been locked in civil war for nearly six hundred years, and none of them are overly friendly with Maldobar. I’m sure they appreciated the help with the Tibran Empire, but I wouldn’t expect them to roll out the welcome wagon.”
I sputtered, nearly choking on my own shock. Murdoc had practically made a sport out of contradicting me every chance he got. If he was agreeing with me about this … then it must really be as bad as it seemed. Crap.
