CHAPTER 7 Wren
CHAPTER 7
Wren
‘Is it Thezmarr that’s toxic, or is it me? The longer I stay in the fortress, the harder it is to tell the difference’
– Elwren Embervale’s notes and observations
W REN HAD SWORN she’d never go back, and as she stood before the gates of Thezmarr, she remembered every single reason why. Kipp had refused to tell her the reason behind her summons, only that if she refused to accompany him to the fortress, the Guild Master had threatened to send Warswords to retrieve her – something Wren naturally wanted to avoid at all costs. But as a stable hand led her and Kipp’s horses away, and the memories came barrelling into her at full force, she wished she had taken her chances with the warriors instead.
Sam, Ida, Anya...Their deaths had been the end and the beginning of so many things. The end of who she had been, the beginning of this new version of herself. Dark and uncompromising. Unfeeling and cold. Had it always existed? The monster within? Perhaps it had, and the shadow war had soldered it into place, into an unyielding part of her.
For a moment, it was as though it were yesterday. The screams echoed in her ears, the sickening scent of burnt hair from the shadow wraiths thick in her throat...The sight of Anya’s lifeless body, and the flash of silver hair followed by the streak of an iron war hammer.
I have seen that gold will turn to silver in a blaze of iron and embers, giving rise to ancient power long forgotten...
Wren, Thea and Anya had been there when the Seer Queen of Aveum had spoken the premonition aloud, and Wren had watched as it came to pass before her very eyes. She’d allowed the Warsword to wield her power, an action that had set the wheels of fate in motion...
Though the scorch marks on the ground were gone, the past formed before Wren, so sharp and visceral she could feel the gush of blood from the wound at her throat.
‘It has a long way to go yet,’ a familiar voice said, hauling her back into the present.
Audra, the Guild Master of Thezmarr, stood by the gates, waiting. She wore dark riding leathers and a heavy cloak. Her hair was secured in a tight knot at the back of her head, and her glasses were perched on the end of her nose as always. Audra looked much the same, and it was this that jarred with the newness of the fortress around her.
As the fog of Wren’s mind cleared, she realized the gates before her were not the original ones. Of course they weren’t. Much had been destroyed in the final battle for the midrealms; and now, even years later, it was still in the process of being rebuilt. There were no spikes on these gates, no rubble piled within a courtyard littered with bodies. Only stonework and scaffolding.
‘It’s so different,’ Wren murmured, craning her neck to take in the rest of the courtyard, suppressing the shudder that threatened to wrack her body.
Audra studied her. ‘It will always serve as a monument to those we lost. To honour all of them and what they sacrificed.’
It took all of Wren’s willpower not to flinch under the Guild Master’s gaze, not to glance at Kipp for reprieve. ‘I don’t want to talk about them,’ she said, busying herself with straightening her apron and adjusting the belt of tools and tinctures around her waist.
Audra was still watching her. ‘And therein lies the problem, Elwren.’
Resting her hand on the strap of her oilskin satchel, she lifted her chin and faced Audra. ‘Why have you summoned me here, Audra?’
The Guild Master’s expression was unreadable. ‘Follow me.’
As Wren started towards the steps, Kipp elbowed her. ‘If you need a minute, she’d understand,’ he whispered.
‘I don’t need a minute,’ Wren replied sharply. She needed a lifetime , though still she worried it would not be enough.
‘Gods, you Embervale sisters are stubborn,’ Kipp muttered, following her up the stone stairs.
Inside, the Great Hall was much changed. Where three great monuments had once stood in reverence to the great war goddesses, the Furies, there was a gaping hole in the rafters. The ceiling had not yet been fully repaired. There were no high seats at the head of the hall, only rough sheets of timber resting on logs felled from the Bloodwoods, creating makeshift tables. Yet however different it looked, it was still the same place where Wren had broken bread with Sam, Ida and Thea for the most formative years of her life. It was still the place that she’d called home since she was an infant.
Struggling to swallow the lump in her throat, Wren crossed the cavernous hall, trailing after Audra. They had reached the doors on the other side of the hall when a blur of movement caught her eye.
‘Wren!’
A familiar body crashed into hers, arms flinging around her neck and drawing her in hard.
Wren stiffened, unable to remember the last time she’d been touched. But a second later, she sank into the embrace. ‘Althea Nine Lives,’ she murmured into a bronze-and-gold braid.
Wren drew back just enough to glimpse Thea’s face, bright and full of life. She had only seen her sister a handful of times over the past few years, and Thea had only grown more beautiful, more vibrant. Wren’s heart swelled at the sight. The war might have broken her, but it had forged her sister anew, and she couldn’t have been gladder for Thea’s happiness.
‘Where’s your other half?’ Wren asked, not quite ready to let her go just yet.
Thea beamed. ‘On his way. I wanted to beat you here, so I rode ahead.’
Wren huffed a laugh. ‘Of course you did.’
Kipp nudged his way between them and swung an arm over Thea’s shoulder. ‘Where’s Cal?’
Thea rolled her eyes. ‘Getting another stern lecture on bound-aries and propriety, last I heard.’
Kipp looked crestfallen. ‘I missed something that warrants a lecture like that?’
Wren watched the exchange unfold with an air of uncertainty. Things felt the same as they always had, but so much had changed.
‘I’m sure it won’t be the last,’ Thea reassured him. ‘He’s taken one too many leaves from your book—’
Audra cleared her throat from the doorway. ‘Your reunion can wait,’ she said sternly. ‘Althea, I trust you can escort Elwren to Farissa’s quarters? She can fill you in.’
Wren blinked. ‘Farissa? What does she—’
But Thea was already tugging her by the sleeve towards the corridor, leaving a disappointed Kipp by the door. ‘Come on.’
Wren didn’t need an escort; she knew the way to her former mentor’s quarters like the back of her hand. She had spent years wearing a path in the stone pavers back and forth from the alchemy workshops below. Still, she let her sister lead her right to Farissa’s door.
Thea squeezed her shoulder. ‘Farissa will explain everything. I’ve got to meet the other Warswords, but we’ll talk later?’
Wren nodded, watching as she strode back down the hall, out of sight.
Slowly, Wren faced the door, and raised her fist to knock.
‘It’s open,’ the familiar voice called from within upon hearing the noise.
Steeling herself, Wren pushed the door inwards, and sucked in a breath.
Farissa’s quarters were as cluttered as her own, every surface covered with scrolls, vials, jars with specimens floating inside, stacks of books, and the occasional animal skull. Her former mentor was hunched over her workbench, as she often was, and she didn’t turn around as she greeted Wren.
‘It’s good to have you back, Elwren.’
‘I’m not back,’ Wren replied. ‘Not for good.’
‘No, I don’t suppose you are.’
At last, Farissa faced her. She looked older than Wren remembered, with deep lines etched in her weathered visage and her bushy chestnut hair, streaked with grey, swept back into a low bun.
‘Audra summoned me here,’ Wren ventured woodenly. ‘Told me you’d explain...’
Farissa sighed. ‘You haven’t forgiven me, then.’
It was no question, so Wren saw no reason to answer. Instead, she waited.
Nodding to herself, Farissa gestured to the workbench, where a sword lay across a sheet of linen. ‘There has been an attempt on King Leiko’s life in Tver. He’s alive. Our Guardians managed to take this from the scene.’
Without thinking, Wren came closer. A strange film of something coated the steel of the blade; it smelled faintly of oranges. In its presence, Wren’s magic, however unstable, seemed to shrink back, burrowing deeper within her.
Interesting , she thought as the hint of power receded from her fingertips.
‘You feel it?’ Farissa asked, watching her. ‘Your sister could as well.’
Wren didn’t want to talk to Farissa, not after everything her former mentor had taken from her. Five times she’d been denied that letter of recommendation. Five rejections from Drevenor. Five years of having her future dangled out of her grasp...
But curiosity came naturally to any alchemist, and Wren’s had been piqued.
‘What is it?’ she heard herself ask, not taking her eyes off the strange substance.
‘A form of alchemy we’ve never seen before,’ Farissa answered. ‘Weaponized and used specifically against a royal of the midrealms to subdue his magic.’
Wren blinked slowly. ‘How...?’
‘From the limited study we’ve done, and from King Leiko’s recount of the events...In the presence of this alchemy, royal magic is weakened – stifled enough that the royal themselves becomes vulnerable. With their power impaired, an attacker can get close enough to strike...and when they do, the alchemy can transfer to the wound itself, interfering with the royal’s magic, even if it’s not a killing blow.’
‘What happened with King Leiko?’ Wren said, schooling her features to remain neutral.
‘He suffered a small cut to his forearm,’ Farissa told her. ‘But he felt his magic react to it – withdraw was the word he used. His powers have not been the same since. We don’t yet know how lasting the effects will be.’
‘How did the attackers get past his guards in the first place?’
Farissa sighed. ‘That is for Audra to investigate. It is this unknown alchemy that concerns me. Wars have been started over less, Elwren.’
Wren’s breath caught in her throat, her stomach bottoming out. And yet the words she forced from her lips were flat. ‘That doesn’t explain why I’m here. Especially after you’ve made your thoughts on my talent for alchemy so crystal clear.’
‘It was never your talent in question,’ Farissa said quietly, pulling on a leather glove and taking the weapon by its grip, tilting it so the strange substance shimmered more clearly in the torchlight. ‘We may never have seen this kind of thing before...but it reminded me of you. Of your work during the war.’
Wren ground her teeth. ‘Whatever you need to say, Farissa, just say it.’
‘You weaponized alchemy for us in battle. And more than that, you once made a substance to mask Thea’s power. You made manacles that could suppress a Warsword’s strength. You have succeeded in understanding elements of alchemy that others have not...So we want your help discovering what exactly this new substance is. And whether we can create an antidote.’
Wren’s blood ran cold as Farissa met her gaze.
‘The midrealms need you, Elwren. Drevenor needs you.’