26. Found Fire
Chapter 26
Found Fire
10 th Day of the Blood Moon
Aravell – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
Aeson read the letter for the fifth time. A piece of his soul ignited at the sight of Alvira’s name, at the smooth ink of her script. She had written this letter, of that he had no doubt. And yet, his heart broke a little more knowing he would never again lay eyes on her, knowing that even before The Fall she had realized something had been wrong and she had not told him. She had not trusted him.
He reached his hand up and slicked back his rain-soaked hair.
Along with Calen, Erik, and the others, Chora, Harken, Thacia, Atara, Arden, and Asius were all crowded around the table in the common room of Aeson’s house on the plateau in Alura. The room’s white stone ceilings were so high even the Jotnar did not need to bow their heads.
“It’s just what Kallinvar said.” Calen rested his hands on the table, looking to Aeson. “The Heart of Blood. Rokka’s Riddle. Ilnaen. Alvira. It all makes sense.”
“And this riddle.” Chora placed one hand atop the other on her lap. “Where did you hear it again?”
Aeson gave her a sideways glance. She was well aware of the riddle’s origin.
“We already told you,” Calen answered. “From?—”
“Yes, from an old man in a hut north of Kingspass. Not the most reliable of sources. Why is your confidence in him so high? There are many old men in this world, and I’d wager you would not march to Ilnaen so willingly on their word alone. What makes this… Rokka, any different?”
“Because it makes sense,” Erik said. “Even if we didn’t trust him. The riddle matches with everything. The pendant was a key, a glamour. Alvira said ‘in the shadow of what was lost, we can find light anew.’ Ilnaen. It cannot be a coincidence.”
“Coincidences are more common than you would?—”
“He’s a druid,” Calen interjected. “A Seerdruid.”
“Ahhh, so now he’s not just an old man. He’s a crazy old man who thinks he can see the future. Much better.”
“I believe they’re right.” Aeson placed the letter on the table. “This letter is in Alvira’s hand. You know Eluna Faviril, Chora. She and Alvira were inseparable, until they were not.”
“Yes,” Harken agreed. “Some years before The Fall, Eluna left Ilnaen. I’d heard she’d had a row with Alvira, but it never made sense. She took up a position as The Order’s emissary to Vindakur – a position far below her station. I thought it strange at the time but never questioned Alvira on it.”
“Precisely.” Aeson tapped on the letter. “Kollna, Coren’s master. Why would Alvira mention her name? But what’s more. I know where Alvira and Eluna met – at the base of Ilnaen’s western hatchery tower. There is too much here to be coincidence, Chora, even for you.”
Before Chora could respond, a green orb appeared behind Arden. The knights’ Rift appeared, and Kallinvar stepped through.
Aeson’s old friend looked a behemoth in his gold-trimmed armour, the slits in his helmet shimmering with green light. Kallinvar’s helmet liquified and rolled back over his skin, vanishing into the armour’s collar. There was a tiredness about the man, a weariness that had set into his eyes and the language of his body.
Kallinvar rested his gauntleted hand on Arden’s shoulder. He gave Aeson a cold stare. “You’ve changed your mind?”
Calen stood straight, inclining his head to Kallinvar. “We believe we might have an idea where this Heart of Blood is.”
Calen went on to explain Alvira’s letter, the old druid’s riddle, and the pendant he’d found in Vindakur.
Kallinvar folded his arms, his expression growing sombre. “That city haunts my dreams and plagues my waking hours. I can’t help but feel that it will continue to call me back until it takes my very soul.”
“Valerys and I are going with you.” Calen stood with his palms pressed against the table, his gaze fixed on the letter and the pendant beside it.
Chora snapped her head around. “To the void you are. Your place is here, Calen. There is too much at stake?—”
“It wasn’t a request, Chora. I’m going. We promised Kallinvar we would stand by his side as he stood by ours. Not only that, but this is Ilnaen, this is where The Order fell. That letter is written in Alvira Serris’s hand. What else do you think might be there? What if it’s something to do with the eggs?”
“ If , Calen.”
“Everything is an if. Look around. There is no certainty in anything we do. Even if there is the slightest chance Alvira left something for us to find or if what she left was this Heart of Blood, then I need to go. Besides, only someone capable of touching the Spark can activate a key. The knights can’t use it on their own, and it would take weeks for anyone else to reach Ilnaen. I will be here to meet with Aryana Torval and the others, but I will not sit here on my arse while everyone else does their part. I will do what you ask of me, but I am going to Ilnaen.”
“We’ll go with you.” Erik stood straight, nodding to Calen. “Queen Tessara can lead the army west.”
“No. We don’t have the time, and you’ll only slow me down. Valerys can make it there in days. Tomorrow, you, Tarmon, Vaeril, Dann, and Lyrei will march with the army. Gaeleron will stay here with Lasch, Elia, Tanner, and Yana to watch over Ella, and I’ll take your father to Arkalen on dragonback as planned. From there Valerys and I will fly to Ilnaen. All going well, we’ll be back in Aravell before the faction leaders arrive, and we might even reach Salme before you do – gods be good.”
“I hold worry in my heart, Calen Bryer, son of Vars Bryer.” Asius had not spoken until that point. The Jotnar fixed his stare on Calen, worry marked in his usually expressionless face. “You do not know Ilnaen. The city holds darkness and demons of old. It is a place of death, a place of deep agony. To go alone… I fear you do not know the darkness of this place.”
“He won’t be alone.” Arden crossed his arms, looking to Kallinvar.
“No,” Kallinvar said. “I will send all surviving knights of The First and The Second. I cannot recall the others as they are needed to continue the search elsewhere, but if you are right, if the Heart of Blood truly is at Ilnaen, I will bring the full force of the knighthood to bear. You will not be alone, Draleid. On my word.”
“It’s settled then.” Calen tapped a closed fist against the tabletop, nodding sharply.
“I still don’t think it’s wise,” Chora said. “Enough Draleid call that wasteland their tomb. Calen, I say what I say not to control you but to keep you safe. We must take risks, but this feels a risk too far. Wait. Fly Aeson to Arkalen, let the army march west, meet with the Illyanarans. If they pledge to our cause, ask them to journey with you to Ilnaen. None would dream of denying you. The chance to stand as honour guard to the first free Draleid in four centuries as he travels to the ancient home of The Order? They would climb over a mountain of corpses to be a part of that tale. We will go with you.” She gestured around at Atara, Thacia, Asius, and Harken. “And more still. It will take time, but it is the plan that makes the most sense.”
Calen studied Chora for a few moments, then nodded slightly. “Or you could allow Tivar and Avandeer to fly with me. They would not slow me down, and with them by my side, we could stand against whatever comes.”
An awkward silence followed Calen’s words, but he did not break eye contact. Calen had known precisely what Chora’s response to that request would have been. He was learning how to play the games.
When the silence had finally grown too long, Calen spoke again. “Grandmaster Kallinvar. What happens if this Heart of Blood is truly in Ilnaen and we drag our feet and the Lorians or the Uraks find it first?”
“They will use its power to bring Efialtír into this world. And then we will not just be faced with the Lorian armies, and the Bloodspawn, and the Fades, and the Chosen, but the traitor god himself made flesh.”
Calen drew a long, slow breath through his nostrils. “Chora, I will not sit and hide while those who are sworn to me march to war. I will fly with Valerys over Illyanara, over Arkalen. I will show the people of this continent that we are not afraid, that the empire’s hold here is dead. And then we will go to Ilnaen and we will find where this letter leads. And then to Salme, and to Valtara, and to wherever else needs my blade. There is much I fear in this world, many things that would keep me from doing what is needed. But a wise man once told me that ‘everything you seek lies on the other side of fear.’” He turned to Aeson. “Be ready to leave by dawn.”
Aeson inclined his head, a smile touching his lips.
Atara, who hadn’t spoken a word up to that point, came a step closer to the table. She didn’t look to Aeson or Chora, but to Calen. The elf pressed her hand across her heart and bowed. “I would like to accompany the army west.”
Harken mimicked Atara’s gesture but did not speak.
Aeson watched closely, examining Chora’s expression. The simple fact that Atara had asked Calen’s permission meant everything.
Hesitation flashed across Calen’s eyes, but it was gone as swiftly as it had appeared. He reached out and grasped Atara’s free forearm. “Anta mentahl. La maeri du aldryr ar orimyn, Narvír.”
Then go. I wish you fire and fury, Commander.
The look in Atara’s eyes was one Aeson had not seen in hundreds of years. Atara Anthalin, the Blade of Anadín, once again had found a fire in her heart, and it was Calen who had set it alight.