32. Arienne
32
ARIENNE
Arienne could sense that Emere feared her. Most people feared sorcerers. Having seen her slay a machine monster with an invisible sword was likely to have added to the intimidation. Arienne didn’t dislike this state of affairs. If he hadn’t seen her do it, he never would have asked to escort her to Arland himself. Once she removed her scarf and revealed her clan markings to show that she was from Arland, Emere insisted she meet Loran.
“But why?”
“Princess Loran faces a tremendous challenge.”
“The invading legion you’ve mentioned.”
“That is so. As you are also a thorn in her enemy’s eye, there should be much you can do to help each other.”
It was true she was being pursued by the Empire, but to describe her as a thorn in their eye seemed a bit much. But thinking back, she was now far, far from having an ordinary life. She had hidden the infamous Eldred in her mind and had just killed the Grand Inquisitor of the Office of Truth and taken his Class Two generator. She was a thief, murderer, traitor, and rogue sorcerer, arguably a mortal enemy of the Empire. All that and she was only sixteen. Not disliking this notion either, she smiled to herself.
Since she left the pass, Eldred had sat on the edge of the bed, saying nothing. Violet smoke continued to trickle from where his arms had been cut. Arienne did not speak to Eldred either.
What was she going to do about him? It was unforgivable that he’d tried to steal her body. But she didn’t know if it was wise to get rid of him either. While she could try to remove him from her mind, she was hesitant to let him out into the world, having seen what he could do within the confines of the imagined room. But perhaps Eldred, having tested Arienne and lost, would prove more docile in the future?
The former legion fortress looked more like an office of the Empire than a military fort. Instead of the imposing, impenetrable walls she imagined, it had almost what might be a fence. The keep and towers were tall and impressive, though. Other than the decrepit tower in the forest, she hadn’t seen a building taller than two stories since leaving the Capital, which made the fortress feel more dominating before her now. When the wind blew, there was a smell fouler than a stable before cleaning.
From Finvera Pass, it had taken her six days to reach this place, and each step made her more nervous about meeting the princess. In Arienne’s mind, the Princess of Arland was not named Loran. Because she had imagined her so vividly for the purposes of her spell, she had already preconceived the princess’s voice, appearance, and manner. A part of her did not want to meet the real princess. There was something that bothered her about overwriting the one in her mind.
The guards did not know Emere by sight, but readily opened the gate when they heard his name. Soldiers came forth and escorted them both inside. Arienne was given a high-floor room with a good view. The princess was said to be in talks with the Ledonite allies who were camped near the fortress and would return in the evening.
Arienne unpacked. The first thing she took out of her sack was the lead sarcophagus. The baby’s name, apparently, had been Tychon. It was heavy, but she couldn’t bear to leave it on Finvera Pass. Not just because it was a Power generator, but because it was the resting place of an innocent child. An infant son who’d been murdered by his own father. Since her travels with Eldred, she could no longer regard the beings inside Power generators as mere corpses, if she ever had.
Arland had not felt like home to her when she arrived, and it was only in this room that she began to feel her journey was at an end. Ironically enough, the building was in the Imperial style. Its interior reminded Arienne of her old dormitory and of Lucretia’s house.
She had intended to lie down for just a moment on the welcomingly familiar Imperial-style bed, but the sun was setting when she was startled awake by a knocking at her door.
“Who is it?”
“It is Loran. May I enter?”
Who was Loran? Recognition jolted her out of her stupor. The princess had come to her room, in person.
“Wait, please wait a moment!” Arienne frantically put the clothes she had scattered on the floor back on, clothes she hadn’t washed throughout her journey. Her body and hair were also filthy. How could she meet royalty in such a state?
But it wasn’t as if she could do laundry while the princess stood waiting at the door.
Arienne opened it.
In her imagination, the princess had been a woman in her twenties and worn shining armor and a crown. The woman who stood before her was older, perhaps late thirties, with a serious yet kind face. A red eyepatch covered one of her eyes. Her hair was cut neatly, and she had a sword slung on her belt. She wore worn leather armor. Like the imagined princess she had her clan markings on the neck, but none of the patterns resembled the royal dragon design. Arienne touched her own tattoos.
Loran smiled awkwardly as she entered the room and sat down at a table by the windows. Arienne also sat down, across from her.
“I hear you’re an Arlander from the Capital.”
“I am.” It felt less like an audience with a princess and more like a talk with one of her younger professors at the Academy. Arienne knew nothing of royalty except for what she had read in books.
“And that you’re a sorcerer.”
“Yes.” She couldn’t find anything to say except to answer questions.
“How do you find your homeland after all this time?” She seemed genuinely curious.
“I don’t really remember what it was like.”
“You haven’t reunited with your family yet. Maybe it’ll seem more real to you when you do.”
“I don’t… think I’ll see them.”
Loran looked a little taken aback, but a sadness settled on her features.
“I see. I’m sure you have your reasons.”
There was a brief silence.
“I hear you’re fighting the Empire,” ventured Arienne.
Loran raised her eyebrows. Arienne was inwardly aghast; had she made a mistake? But Loran’s expression returned to normal as she spoke.
“I am.”
“Will you win?”
Loran turned her gaze toward the window.
“They say a legion of the Empire numbers ten thousand soldiers, but it is smaller than that. More like six thousand, including noncombatants. On top of that, a small part of the Twenty-Fifth Legion is divided between Ledon, Kamori, and Arland, and the bulk of their forces are coming by sea. In terms of pure numbers, they are not an insurmountable foe. And every day, we have men and women coming to this fortress, pledging themselves to the cause. You may have also noticed our Ledonite allies camped outside. However…”
“Yes?”
Loran turned to Arienne and looked her in the eye. Her gaze was so firm it made Arienne uncomfortable.
“It’s the Powered weapons that are the real problem. Especially the gigatherion.”
Arienne had once seen two gigatherions, on a parade day in the Capital. They had been too large to fit inside the city, and instead stood at the outskirts like massive sculptures. One was a human-shaped giant that looked like it could touch the sky, the other took the form of a four-legged beast.
“The Twenty-Fifth Legion,” continued Loran, “has a gigatherion named Clarios. It is being shipped here as we speak. I wonder if it’s made it to the shores of Ledon by now.”
“Then it’ll be here soon.”
“That is so. Which is why I wish to ask… Would it be possible for you to help us?”
Fear rose in Arienne. It wasn’t the call to arms that frightened her but the prospect that in the end, she would have nothing to offer.
“But I know nothing of war—”
“I would not ask you to fight in battle. You’ve studied in the Empire’s school of sorcery, have you not? You know how their sorcery works?”
“… Somewhat.” What Imperial sorcery she was aware of was only the bare fundamentals of Powered machines.
“Have you ever seen a chain engraved with runes?”
“I have. They are used to control Power generators.” She was glad to share something she knew.
“I see. I didn’t know that.”
Arienne wondered what Loran would ask of her. The princess seemed to be hesitating as to whether it was something that could be asked.
“To fight the Twenty-Fifth’s gigatherion, there is one thing that I absolutely require.”
“What is it?”
“The fire-dragon of the mountain. Only the dragon can fight the gigatherion. But it lies bound in black chains in its cavern in side the volcano. I need you to break those chains. This may be our only chance, as the Empire’s reinforcements have not arrived yet, and I have the support that I have. Will you do it?”
It was disconcerting. “But why would you entrust me with such an important task?”
“I was a mere teacher, a neighborhood swordmaster, before all this. I taught those who sought amusement, or exercise, or employment in the legions or the prefect’s guard. Still, I have some confidence in my skill with the sword. But I do not know how to break the chains forged in the Empire’s sorcery.”
Loran unhitched her sword in its scabbard and placed it on the table.
“I have slain the Empire’s Powered soldiers and even destroyed their Powered chariots with this sword. But the sword is made from the fang of the dragon. I cannot sever the chains that bind the dragon with its own fang. And the only one here who knows Imperial sorcery is the young lady Arienne.”
But I don’t know either. The words had almost left Arienne’s lips. But Arienne had severed Eldred’s arms, and the machine arms of the Grand Inquisitor Lysandros as well. She had killed Lysandros by cutting a cord of magic that did not even exist. It had been in that moment that Arienne realized cutting and severing were indeed her greatest talent. And as Loran said, there was no one who could do it in her stead.
Gathering her courage, she nodded.
“I shall try.”
Loran sighed softly, looking relieved.
“It is some distance to the volcano. I know you’ve just arrived from a long journey, and it pains me to ask you to do this so suddenly, but the fate of our kingdom hangs in the balance. Please be on your way as soon as possible. Fifty of our soldiers and Prince Emere himself will travel with you and help you on your way.”
Arienne wondered if she was meant to be here from the beginning, when she had decided to leave the school. Perhaps everything from that moment had happened in order to prepare her for this purpose. She stood up. Loran picked up the sword from the table.
“This sword is called Wurmath. I received it as a sign of my promise to the dragon. There are two paths into the volcano. One of them is untenable.” Loran seemed to be remembering something as a small smile rose to her face. “For the other one, you will need this sword to pass. Please keep it safe for me.”
“But what if the legion arrives while I am gone? What will you do without the sword?”
Loran smiled again. “I don’t need it anymore.”
Arienne received Wurmath from Loran’s hand. The hilt was hot. She remembered the scene in her mind at Finvera Pass, where the princess with the golden crown had handed her a sword of fire.
She felt exactly now as she did then.