Chapter 28
EMERE
As Rakel summoned an assistant to take over Septima’s care, Emere prepared to meet Loran. He wished he could go back to his house and change clothing, maybe even bring a gift, but he was a wanted man. Once the sun set, he set out with Rakel through the back door and into the alleys.
Loran was here, in the Capital. To meet the Ebrians, to fight the Empire …
He couldn’t remember being this excited since he had left Kamori.
He might be wearing a cloak with a hood and avoiding the larger roads and streetlamps to hurry through dark alleyways, but his step was as light as if he were heading toward assured victory.
“… I remembered that you had met King Loran, so I told my friends that there was a way to confirm her identity…” He could barely hear Rakel talking from under her own hood as she carried a lantern next to him.
He was going to see Loran again. The thought was making the fake Loran in his dream seem almost like an auspicious omen. Maybe it had been. Maybe this was all part of his destiny. What could be more wonderful than if it turned out his destiny was entwined with Loran’s grand purpose?
Rakel stopped in the middle of an alley that had almost no windows, right in front of a crumbling building, and looked around her.
“Is this it?” Emere wondered.
“A little farther from here.” But she drew out a key and plunged it into the door before her, which opened without a sound on well-oiled hinges. Emere followed Rakel inside.
The house was dark. Rakel grabbed Emere’s arm with her left hand and lifted her lantern with her right.
The inside was as decrepit as the outside.
Broken furniture on a filthy carpet, with no sign of habitation.
An abandoned house. But wherever Rakel’s lantern lit, Emere noticed footprints in the dust made by a variety of shoes.
Judging the coast was truly clear, Rakel kicked away a corner of the carpet, revealing a trapdoor with an iron ring handle.
The trapdoor was just about big enough for one person to pass through.
Rakel gestured at it with her chin, and so Emere knelt down and opened it.
These hinges were oiled into complete silence as well, and a wooden staircase was revealed.
“There are a few of these entrances throughout the city.”
“Entrances to what?”
Rakel grinned. “An abandoned underground space. We’ve been using it for worship since fifty or so years ago. And now, for meetings … Watch your step; the floor isn’t smooth. And there’s a long way to go.”
Lightly holding on to Rakel’s shoulder as she led the way with her lantern, Emere descended into the underground.
“Why is King Loran seeking an alliance?” Emere asked, not bothering to hide his excitement.
“It’s not just with us. She’s reaching out to other resistance movements in other provinces. She says that if we really want to fight the Empire, we need to coordinate our efforts.”
Loran had indeed clasped hands with the Kamori rebels and the Ledonite tribes of the north. The three nations had never been on good terms, but they had fought the Empire together. Evidently, the King of Arland was still following the same principle, but now on a much grander scale.
“She’s not wrong,” continued Rakel as they came upon a particularly narrow passageway, “but we’re cautious. We have survived because we’re cautious. The elders believe we can lose everything if we listen to the wrong person.”
Emere clucked his tongue. “Even after hearing what King Loran achieved in Arland? I’ve fought by her side ever since I first saw her in Dehan Forest. Even when an entire legion and a gigatherion descended on her, even when the dragon of Arland fell, she never gave up.”
Rakel smiled. “If you say so. But as I said, we’re cautious. Moving too much too fast might compromise everything we’ve managed to accumulate over the years.”
“It’s a risk you have to take!” It took the surprise showing on Rakel’s face for him to realize he had inadvertently raised his voice. She sighed disapprovingly.
“You’re just like you were in your twenties.
Jumping into things without a second thought.
” Rakel sighed, exhausted. “I loved you and followed you for that. Even when I was unceremoniously left at the side of a road, I never regretted the ten years I’d been with you. Or the ten years that followed.”
Finvera Pass. It had been spring, when tufts of light green showed through patches in the snow.
He had shaken off Rakel, who wanted to come with him, but he knew what she had really wanted.
A life with him. But a life in an underground stronghold, never knowing when the Empire would strike, was not the kind of life he could ask of her.
He was so sure that his brother and his band of Liberators would make a difference.
But the only notable thing that had happened since was meeting Loran.
Rakel said she had no regrets, but Emere regretted everything.
Wordlessly, the two made their way through the dark tunnel. The lantern illuminated the walls of brick and revealed several other passageways and corners.
Just as Emere was growing tired, Rakel said, “I’m over forty now.
I’ve been to places with you most people couldn’t even imagine, and brought back to life countless people who would’ve passed on otherwise.
I’ve lived a settled life and had a husband.
My only task left is to grow old. So, maybe I can become more like you and take more risks.
But we are talking about the survival of the Ebrians in the Capital—it’s not just about me. ”
She stopped. There was a door at the end of the passageway. Large, iron, and the insignia upon it rusted beyond recognition. Emere looked at Rakel. “Is this it?”
Nodding, Rakel rapped a complicated rhythm on the door. Before the echoes could die down, the door opened and a soft light emanated from within. A young, tall woman who filled up the doorway looked Emere up and down.
“Elder Rakel, is this the one you spoke of?”
Emere turned to Rakel in surprise. She had never said anything about being an elder in the congregation. She didn’t return his gaze, focusing on the doorkeeper instead.
“Yes. We haven’t been followed. It’s safe.”
“Ayula.”
The woman stepped aside. A long dagger hung from her belt. Emere stepped through, on Rakel’s signal.
Several candles on tables and against walls lit up the room, which was about the size of Emere’s living room.
It could comfortably fit about ten people, but thirty assorted men and women were crammed inside.
Most of them stood, as there wasn’t enough room for everyone to sit.
Someone took down a book from a wall-mounted shelf, and another was carefully polishing a statue of the Ebrian god.
A group was in a heated debate in Ebrian.
But in the next moment, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at Emere.
An older man with a long gray beard and wearing black clothes stood up from the desk in the corner and called out, “Prince Emere, we welcome you to our holy gathering.”
Following Rakel’s lead, Emere bowed at the waist.
“I’m afraid I’m not a prince anymore.”
“Then shall we call you Councillor? Not the most welcome honorific in this setting…” He chuckled. “My name is Ahmus. I administer to the Ebrian souls in the Capital.”
“You are a priest.”
Emere remembered Rakel telling him that Ebrians were led by priests. Even their kings had been elected by a council of priests, until the Empire arrived.
“We do not often admit unbelievers into our sanctum, but we find ourselves in extraordinary circumstances, and Elder Rakel vouches for you.” Ahmus gestured toward Rakel before he continued. “Councillor Emere, I hear you fought alongside King Loran in the Arlander rebellion.”
A murmur rose from the congregation.
“That is so,” Emere answered, with some pride.
“As we speak, our brothers are bringing here the one claiming to be King Loran. They will arrive shortly. No one here has ever met King Loran of Arland in person. Her name, however, has spread throughout the Empire, even as Imperial powers still try to cover up what truly happened in Arland. But all who fight the Empire know the truth. That King Loran, with the help of a dragon, raised her people against an Imperial legion and defeated it. A defeat the likes of which the Empire had never seen in its two hundred years. We would be honored to form an alliance with such a leader.”
Emere waited for the “however.”
“However,” Ahmus went on, “the people of Ebria do not have dragons or mysterious powers. The task our god has given us is to conserve our people and maintain our faith. This is our holy mandate that was given in the Age of Oracles, well before the Empire existed. Even if King Loran can fell a gigatherion on her own, I do not know if she can protect our—”
“Arland was protected thus,” Emere interjected.
He glanced at Rakel, who nodded. He pressed on.
“Freedom and independence are never handed to us just because we ask for them. What Her Majesty did for Arland is an example for us all, and one does not need dragons and gods and demons to fight the Empire. When King Loran rose, Arland’s neighbors—Ledon, and my own beloved Kamori—rose from our torpor with her.
You can as well—anyone can. If we all keep rising, Arland’s victory can be the whole world’s victory. ”
“Is that so?” mused Ahmus. “Was that truly a victory for Arland? We are not in agreement.” A shadow flickered over his candlelit face.
“What do you mean?”
“Arland’s ‘victory’ in that battle,” said Ahmus in a low voice, “made it a target of the Empire, like Mersia before it. The Office of Truth is restless for revenge, and the most powerful senators are falling in line with them.”
Emere looked at Rakel again. She was biting her lip. Had she known this as well? Had Loran’s victory paved the way for Ludvik’s conspiracy as much as Lysandros’s death did?
Ahmus continued. “King Loran is holding out her hand to not only us Ebrians but also to resistances around the world. She realizes, in truth, that Arland is in danger. That is why she seeks an alliance.”
As Emere tried to think of a response to this, a rapping on iron echoed through the room. All eyes turned toward the door opposite the one Emere had entered.
Ahmus spoke. “It seems King Loran has arrived.”
The people standing by the door moved aside.
Emere took a deep breath and prepared himself for the king’s arrival.