Chapter 27 Declan
The sun sat low on the horizon. Wind whipped pennants one way, then another. Pregnant clouds heralded another bout of winter’s rage.
Nothing stilled the clamor of activity on the streets of Saltstone.
The clanking of hammers on anvils and the scraping of saws struggling through stubborn logs rose above the clatter of horses and the chatter of men.
Bitter, tar-filled smoke from never-failing hearths mingled with the tang of manure from the thousands of horses held within.
It took a while for my nose to numb and my eyes to stop watering.
Everywhere I looked, men and women hauled wood and stone toward the walls. I lost count of the carts carrying barrels of newly fletched arrows. Soldiers in crisp navy coats scurried from one place to the next, carrying messages or following orders.
I’d never seen the place so alive—or so crammed.
If I’d been traveling alone, without a complement of soldiers parting the way before me, I might never have reached the Triad’s marble edifice.
Despite growing up in Saltstone, I had never actually entered the nation’s capital building.
I caught myself staring up at the towering white structure that spanned dozens of feet taller than the tallest building around.
Two massive doors, inlaid with the crest of Melucia, stared down as we approached.
The procession halted a few paces from the doors.
The guard who’d questioned us outside the gate snapped to attention. “The Triad awaits you in the Chamber of the Eye, Mage Rea.”
“Chamber of the Eye? How dramatic. You might need to do that thing with your underwear again.”
“Not helping, Miss High Holy of Magic.”
“Ooh. I like that. Maybe you should call me that instead of Daughter.”
I stifled a laugh as I realized the guard, still at attention, was gaping.
In that moment, I wondered what a mental conversation looked like to an innocent bystander who didn’t even know a conversation was taking place. That thought did make me laugh out loud, earning a curious gaze from the other soldiers standing nearby.
My eyes darted from one soldier to the next, and I schooled my expression, realizing I was supposed to hold rank here. “Right. Thank you, soldier. We will need our horse stabled,” I said as I dismounted.
órla hopped from my shoulder and flew to rest on the railing atop the stairs.
I removed my cloak and stuffed it into one of the saddlebags. When I turned, each of the soldiers shared a look of unabashed awe and stepped back. I had already forgotten about the golden color of my tunic and the Phoenix on my chest.
This is really going to take getting used to, I thought.
One of the soldiers who had escorted us stepped forward. “I’ll take your horse to the stables at the Mages’ Guild. That’s where you’re staying, isn’t it?”
I hadn’t thought that far ahead but didn’t want to sound unsure in front of the men. “Of course. That’s fine. Thank you, Sergeant.”
The man snapped to attention, offered a crisp salute, grabbed the reins, and disappeared down the street. I turned toward the marble building and strode through its majestic doors. As I passed órla, she hopped onto my outstretched arm.
Angry voices greeted us as we entered the Triad’s chamber.
“What in the holy hells is so important that I had to be called from shoring up our defenses? The last thing I need is another pointless meeting,” General Vre boomed throughout the chamber.
Guildmaster Burner sat slumped in his chair.
“We expect another ten supply shipments from coastal cities before the night is over. None of us has time to waste, General, but if Velius says this boy’s report is important, we should listen. The three of us must stand united if our people are to do the same.”
“Thank you, Ceryl.” Arch Mage Quin inclined his head toward the portly Guildmaster. “I do not know the details, Titus, but a Ranger showed up alive at our gate with a talking owl on his shoulder—and he used our phrase. I would say he is worth a moment or two of our time.”
“You said he was a Ranger. What in Spirits is he wearing?”
Vre whispered to Quin as I strode into the circle of thrones and stepped atop the Eye.
A sliver of moonlight peeking through the clouds and shining through the oculus above added little to the soft light of lamps scattered throughout the chamber.
I tried to stand tall with my back straight.
I had never been so nervous.
Giving speeches had never been an impressive skill of mine. Talking to powerful men was even less so. I only hoped the three seated around me couldn’t see my nerves. I found myself wishing for Ayden. His wit was quick, and his tongue sharp.
“Ranger?” Vre usurped the Arch Mage’s traditional role as leader of discussions. “Tell us your news. We have no time to waste—and what in the holy fuck are you wearing? We should have you stripped and flogged right here.”
I squared with the General.
As I spoke, the tunic responded, its gilded hue pulsing as if angered.
“Grove’s Pass has been destroyed. The Rangers are gone. All of them.”
Vre blinked, then leaned forward.
Guildmaster Burner spoke first. “What do you mean by all the Rangers?”
“Any Rangers posted in towns east of the mountains . . . they are all that remain of our force. The headquarters is rubble atop a grave.”
I stepped toward Vre, stopping at the edge of the Eye. “Kingdom soldiers and Mages hold the pass. At least fifty thousand men were camped across the border recently. I expect they have marched since I saw them last.”
“Fifty thousand?” Vre sat back.
“With more arriving each day . . . plus siege engines and horses.”
“When you say, ‘destroyed,’ what do you mean?” Burner asked. “The Ranger headquarters was built by Mages . . . using magic . . . surely—”
“There is nothing left, Guildmaster.” I turned to face him. “Not a single person lives. Only a half dozen houses in the town remain. Grove’s Pass is little more than ashes.”
“I knew they were planning something,” Burner muttered. “I warned Whitman. But . . . to wipe a whole town off the map? To not even take it to use for your own men? Why do such a thing?”
Quin leaned forward. “I believe someone seeks our attention.”
“By killing our entire border force? All the Rangers?” Vre looked up, dismayed. “I talked to a boy, a messenger Whitman sent with a report of scouts in the woods, but I never dreamed something like this could happen.”
Silence loomed as the men grappled with what they’d just learned. Melucia’s most important defensive position—the bottleneck to stop any incursion—and over a thousand Rangers . . . gone.
The Arch Mage broke the stillness as he began piecing things together, his voice trembling. “You are Declan Rea? Brother of Guard-Lieutenant Keelan Rea?”
I nodded. “I am.”
“Did Mage Dani deliver my . . . instructions? Did you perform as requested?” Quin asked meaningfully.
“He did, and I did.”
Vre and Burner shared confounded looks. Vre started to ask, “Quin, what’s this—”
“And?” Quin stood and braced himself on the arms of his chair, anticipation exploding from him. “Boy, tell me what happened. What of the Keeper? What of aid?”
I tossed back my cloak, and the Phoenix on my tunic flared brightly at Quin’s challenge. My eyes steeled. “The Keeper is well and sent aid. I am pleased to introduce órlaith, the Daughter of Magic.”
I raised my arm and looked to the owl for the first time since entering.
On cue, órla flapped from my arm to rest on the rim of Quin’s chair back. Her aura raged, mirroring the intensity of my tunic.
órla’s voice held rich, smoky notes and echoed through the stone hall. “And may I introduce Declan Rea, no longer a simple Ranger of Melucia, now Heir of Magic—our best hope for survival in the war to come.”
Vre and Burner shot to their feet, their jaws agape.
Burner dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
“Get up, Ceryl,” Vre chided.
Burner rose, eyes wide. “The owl spoke. Did you not hear that? And . . . she’s . . . she’s glowing!”
“Would you two stop chattering and listen for a moment?” Quin snapped. “Go on, Ranger Rea.”
“Larinda sends her regards, Arch Mage.” I smiled as Quin’s face brightened.
“That old bird?” His laughter was the sound of pure delight. “What of the Keeper? And . . .” His voice trailed off as his eyes strayed to Burner.
“He does not trust the others,” órla’s words echoed my thoughts.
“The Keeper is well. He is an odd man and offers even more interesting . . . greetings.”
Quin’s smile widened. “Yes, that would be him. And you passed his tests?”
I nodded.
Quin fell back into his seat, relief flooding his face. “Dear Spirits, that is good. That is very good.”
Vre couldn’t contain himself. “I don’t understand any of this. Back to the border. What of Grove’s Pass? Of our defensive position there? It can’t be as bad as—”
“Perhaps it would be easier if I showed you.” I drew myself up and spoke calmly. “You may want to sit for this.”
Vre and Burner returned to their seats as I stepped away from the Eye.
I closed my eyes, and images of Grove’s Pass formed in the three leaders’ minds.
My illusion spared no detail. I recalled my conversation with the spirit, and all the horrors the dead man recounted of the attack.
The illusion should have only created images, but my emotions poured into their minds: anger, heartache, grief—and fear—so much fear.
Silence echoed throughout the chamber.
Vre finally spoke in an anguished whisper. “They surprised our people, slaughtered them before they could respond. They slaughtered women in their nightclothes carrying children. They dragged them into the streets.”
“They are headed to Saltstone. All of them.” I nodded. “Before I left on the Arch Mage’s mission, I saw their armies encamped across the border. I couldn’t count all the trebuchets and towers.”
“We received reports of their buildup. It’s why we added rings of barricades and heightened the walls. We have turned the whole city, the whole country, toward defensive preparations. Our only solace is that we have months before they can cross the mountains,
then another month or more before they can mount an offensive here.”