Chapter 45 #2
Iryana turned to find Vaneshta rushing toward them. Her wrists were bloody and raw, her lip split, but she otherwise looked whole. Iryana felt her body ease.
Uncle Dinhal stepped in front of her, blocking Vaneshta’s path. They were trying to protect her from the 18th.
“It’s okay.” Iryana waved him aside awkwardly. He moved reluctantly. Then she said to Vaneshta, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Vaneshta looked her over, eyes lingering on the blood soaked into her armor and the state of her neck.
“I hear you killed him.” Vaneshta’s eyes glinted with violence.
“Yes, his body is still in the square if you want to see.”
“I will have to swing by.”
“Are the others okay? Lidishta? She gave me the opening to get away before…”
“Despite her betrayal, I don’t think her brother wanted her hurt too badly. She’ll be all right. She is surprisingly tough.” There was admiration in Vaneshta’s voice. It had been well earned.
Iryana nodded, and the silence grew uncomfortably.
“Oh, uh. This is Sergeant Vaneshta Frankola,” Iryana introduced. Her family nodded tightly.
She couldn’t blame them for not trusting the 18th. Not after everything. Even so, it was strange seeing the hatred in their eyes.
“I should get back. There’s still much to do,” Vaneshta mused. “Plenty of snakes to purge.”
“You’ll be busy.”
Vaneshta looked at the other Kleesolds, who were still eyeing her carefully. “I take it you’re returning with your family.”
Iryana just nodded.
“I had hoped to celebrate with you.”
Iryana smiled weakly. “Have a drink for me.”
Vaneshta nodded, looking again at Iryana’s family. Tension bit at the air.
Her gaze returned to Iryana. “I will see you later.” Then she turned and walked away before Iryana could say she wasn’t sure if that were true.
The adrenaline had abandoned her completely, and everything ached. Hadima had cried and thrown herself at Iryana when she’d called for her in the streets outside Myura River and then fussed over her injuries. They were both covered in blood now.
She’d told her sister she’d have to wait until they got to the camp and saw how the others fared, but that hadn’t stopped her.
The Kleesolds were quiet on the hike back, their relief tempered by worry for the First of their clan and the others.
She was about ready to collapse by the time they made it to the camp, but she still had enough energy to panic. Eyeing the bloody cliff and ripped tents, Iryana thought the worst at first. But then, people emerged from the rocks.
Hadima rushed forward, demanding someone take her to the injured, while the Kleesolds at her back organized a new perimeter and started taking stock of the situation. They were guardians, protectors. It was what they did.
Iryana went straight to where her grandmother sat on a stool among the wreckage.
Vesima Kleesolda, First of the Kleesold Guardian clan, had fought. That was undeniable from the blood splattered dress and claw marks on her arm.
Iryana fell to her knees at her grandmother’s feet. As much from exhaustion as reverence.
“It’s done,” she breathed. “Karvek is dead. Pyetar holds the 18th.”
Relief flashed over the First’s face.
“I am so proud of you,” the First said. “Proud to be First of such a clan. Such a family.”
Iryana smiled, hiding a wince at the pain lancing through her body. “I am proud to be your granddaughter. You are a warrior still.”
The First nodded at her, face still the hard mask of a guardian who had fought for her life. But then she softened, becoming just her grandmother, and reached for Iryana’s neck. Wiping away the blood to reveal her new tattoos and the bruises forming there.
“You’ve done the impossible.”
“I don’t know how,” she admitted. “But I had to. I never knew I had something like that in me.”
“I’ve known,” her grandmother assured her. “Since you were a little girl.”
Iryana cried, laying her head on her grandmother’s lap. She only let herself linger for a few minutes, letting the suffocating stream of emotions wash over her.
Gentle but firm hands pushed her hair back. Wiped away her tears. Her grandmother’s face was stern and hard. The First once more.
“We don’t have time to fall apart now, Third,” she ordered. “We must rally the clan, get them home. Start securing the valley and make sure these brigades hold true to their word.”
Iryana nodded, rubbing at her cheeks.
“What do you need me to do?”
The First sent Iryana back to Myura River.
One day later, Iryana walked into the study that had once belonged to Karvek. It still smelled like him, his chipped cup sitting on the edge of the large table. A few drops of golden liquid still inside.
“Iryana.” Pyetar stood abruptly from where he sat behind the desk.
He wore clean clothes and a new set of armor. Her stomach tightened. Pyetar wouldn’t be safe in the fort until he finished rooting out all the soldiers who still wished him dead.
“The Kleesolds are patched up, ready to head back to our post.” The camp had already been packed up, the soldiers of the River Brigades long gone.
She’d spent the morning meeting with the River Brigade majors and Pyetar, hashing out the details, and had left Pyetar to finalize the contract with them while she checked on the camp again. Now she was back to collect.
Iryana took a few steps into the room, trailing her fingers along the edge of the table. Remembering. “I have to go with the First to meet the duchess.”
“I have the contracts ready.” Pyetar grabbed the stack of papers sitting on the edge of the desk and brought them over to her. “Jesha and Nenad already signed them too.”
Iryana glanced at the pages, at the contract that settled the new arrangements between the Dovaki Post, the 18th Brigade, and the River Brigades. It was more generous than she could have expected. The duchess would never be able to give up the Dovaki Post, not while the contract was upheld.
Pyetar pushed an inkwell across the table toward her and handed her a pen. Iryana took it with trembling fingers.
Nothing felt real anymore, like it was a dream. But Iryana went through the motions, scrawling her name on each of the contracts on behalf of the Guardians of Klees.
“How are you?” His voice was soft, his brow tugging down over his eyes.
Iryana looked up, into the warm depths of his eyes.
“I am so relieved to have my family back.” She smiled, a bit strained. “And nervous about my grandmother’s training.”
Pyetar nodded, understanding. “And the water magic, is it—are you recovering from the forging?”
She could feel the two parts of her magic roiling inside her, fighting against settling down together. “I am still healing. And it’s easier when I don’t use it for a while.”
“You took to your metal-forging well, but I have seen some that take weeks for the magic to really settle inside them. Being double-forged is no doubt harder for your body to handle. It will take time.” But he was frowning, worry clear on his face.
“I have that now, I suppose. Time.”
Iryana neatened the stack of papers now that the ink was dry and rolled them, slipping them into the leather scroll case Pyetar offered. His touch lingered when he pressed the case into her hands.
“The First and I will travel straight to the duchess.” It would take over a week, maybe longer depending on how involved the negotiations were. They should be able to return before winter was upon them.
The thought of leaving the fort was unsettling, like she was moving away from her home. She would come back though. The agreement with them ensured she’d have to from time to time, but it would never be her home again.
Pyetar closed some of the distance between them, leaning against the table.
“I have to get this place under control.”
“I know.” She took a deep breath. “I should head out.”
The longer she lingered, the harder it would be.
“After everything we’ve accomplished, it feels like we’re back where we started.” His voice was mournful, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.
Iryana leaned into the warmth of his hand, and a small smile crept across her face. “I don’t hate you anymore, though.”
“There is that.” Pyetar chuckled and dragged her toward him.
She met him, kissing him softly. The feel of his fingers tracing her face made her eyes burn.
Her body was buzzing, not in the way it normally did with him, but like her skin couldn’t decide if it was in pain or not.
She didn’t want to leave him. It wasn’t just the fort that it hurt to leave behind.
Over the past months, Pyetar had been her home, even if she hadn’t realized it.
“Goodbye, Iryana,” he said against her mouth. It tasted like heartbreak.
There was a village far below Lake Vrasho, tucked into the cliffs that housed the waterfalls and rope systems used for bringing supplies high into the peaks. The village was small, mostly farms and a midway point for those traveling around the settlement.
The breeze was chilly that morning, blowing up the slopes of the mountain and ruffling the warm headscarf that was wrapped around Iryana’s head.
Iryana leaned her head back, her gaze following the waterfalls cascading down each layered ridge.
One day she would see Lake Vrasho and the rows of cliff houses and tiered fields of tubers that encircled the lake.
She might even be allowed to see the air temple, given that she was a guardian-family heir.
The Air Elementi of the conclave lived up there, tucked safely away from the dakii that ravaged outside the barriers of the settlement.
The Duchess Vrinikolda Zrinski had responded to the message they had sent, saying she would meet them in the base village. It was a tremendous effort to get anyone that wasn’t air-forged to Lake Vrasho, and apparently this situation didn’t call for the effort.
Beside her, Grandmother Vesima settled on one of the benches in the field they were told to wait in. The thin, rushing river coursed behind them. It would start freezing soon, the first frost of the season having happened days prior.
Iryana squinted her eyes, searching along the snow-capped peaks until she saw them.
The envoy were mere specks, but they grew until Iryana could make out the air-forged gliders.
Each glider was streaked with golden air magic, the wings so translucent they looked like flashes of sunlight.
They swirled with the currents in the air, like birds.
When the party landed, releasing their forgings and smoothing their clothes, one woman stepped forward. Iryana immediately knew it was the duchess.
Her clothes were fine but practical, loose trousers and a dress that was far shorter than anything a woman who was not a fighter would typically wear. A bright golden sash wrapped around her waist, matching the golden embroidery that looked like wings climbing up her loose sleeves.
The duchess was not a beautiful woman, not like the paintings of fine ladies that Iryana remembered seeing when they still lived in Klees.
But there was a proud elegance in her features.
Long nose, a wide expressive mouth, and brows that were darker and thicker than you’d expect from her fine, pale hair.
Iryana bowed low, not waiting for her grandmother.
“Welcome, Guardians.” The duchess inclined her head toward them with respect. “My representative told me about your plans. I had little hope you would be successful, but it seems I was wrong.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Vesima said with a proud smile. “It was all thanks to my Third, my granddaughter and new heir.”
“Hmm.” The duchess looked Iryana over carefully, measuring her. “I have heard about you, Iryana Kleesolda. They say you managed to forge in a metal well.”
“Yes, and with our new agreement, the Kleesolds and any from the settlement who wish to, may journey to the metal well in the territory of the 18th Brigade,” Iryana added. It was a huge boon for them, and the other guardian families holding the border of their settlement.
She pulled the scroll and handed over one copy of the contract.
“Hmm.” The duchess skimmed it, flipping the pages like only someone used to reviewing documents could. “There are a lot of opportunities with this. But if we are going to hold your part of the border, the assurances to reduce the dakii need to be fulfilled. Quickly.”
Iryana exchanged a glance with her grandmother. “We have a few ideas for how to deal with that, Your Grace. The 18th Brigade is also re-motivated to keep them out of the area.”
“See that they do.”
“Your Grace,” the First said carefully. “Does this mean you support the Kleesolds keeping their post?”
“It does. But the dakii must be dealt with. Swiftly. I will expect frequent reports.”
Relief flooded Iryana. She had hoped, even assumed, things would go that way. But hearing it was something else entirely.
“Of course, thank you, Your Grace.”
The duchess waved off her thanks and offered her first smile of the meeting.
Vesima glanced at Iryana. “There is one other thing you will find interesting, Your Grace. Something we didn’t dare put in a letter, but the news will spread soon enough.”
“What is it?” The duchess’s eyes narrowed.
Her grandmother gave Iryana a look that was more a demand than anything.
“To defeat the last general of the 18th, I was forged again. In water magic.” Iryana’s words were hesitant, and she feared how the woman would react.
“You are double-forged?” Her tone was disbelieving.
“Yes.”
The duchess was silent for a moment. “Prove it to me.”
Iryana took a step back and held out her hands. Her magic roiled painfully, but she formed her spear and staff in her hands. The duchess’s eyes widened.
“That’s not possible.”
“The man I killed, he was metal and fire forged, though not in the same way.”
The duchess was quiet, looking back at someone in her party, probably to make sure they would remember those details.
“I will discuss this with the Air Elementi of the conclave,” she finally said. “I would bring you to them now, but with the border the way it is—we will bring them to you.”
Iryana nodded, fighting a grimace. She had fought with her grandmother over telling the settlement, but there was no way around it. She was Third, a guardian heir, and vital to the new agreement with the 18th. That would protect her.
Vesima and the duchess went over the details of the last few months and the expectations of the year to come, while Iryana retreated into herself.
She would need to learn to handle these situations herself eventually, but the reality that she was going to be in her grandmother’s role one day was sinking in. She felt a little lightheaded.
When they had covered everything and the duchess gave them the leave to return to their post, Iryana sighed with relief.
“Well, my Third.” Her grandmother smiled at her, taking Iryana’s hand tightly. “Let’s go home.”
Home. A smile broke out across Iryana’s face.