Chapter 41
TERRAN
“That was quite a… spectacle.” Dren surveyed the dead bodies.
It was a bloodbath, but my right hand was too diplomatic to say as much.
They had pulled me from Lyra, incited violence along the border, and took their rage out on an innocent human village. Every one of them had deserved the punishment they received, though I took no joy in such a sight.
Dren had just arrived, having been summoned as I was. Detained by another of my father’s loyalists, one he’d been able to sway but by less violent means, he had just missed the reckoning.
“They took two innocent lives, guards from Ashwick, not bothering to deny it.”
“To sow the seeds of rebellion, as if the cause of an ensuing battle would not be discovered.”
My men had begun to bury the dead. I would help them, but needed a moment of rest. Dren had found me sitting on a log on the edge of the lower quarter’s forest, where the loyalists were camped.
“What happened, precisely?”
“When we arrived, they were well-hidden among the trees.”
“Not surprising, given how many trackers your father trained.”
It was one of his best-honed Gyorian skills, and one Father enjoyed passing on to others. Neither Kael nor I took as much of an interest as he would have liked, but throughout the years, others enjoyed being trained by their king in such a skill.
“I felt nothing, at first. But remembered, thankfully.” I patted the pouch at my side.
Dren’s eyes widened. “The Stone.”
“When I pulled it out, the Stone’s glow was steady. Laying my palm to the dirt was a very different experience with it in my other hand. I could sense them but…” How to explain it? “Not in the typical way. It felt where they moved, where they ran, as if it were a memory.”
“So not their vibrations?”
“No,” I said. “Something else entirely.” I shrugged. “When we did find them, I offered the same opportunity as the others.”
Dren seemed surprised.
“Despite the killings?”
“With the caveat that those who’d committed the crimes would step forward.”
“They declined?”
I nodded. “To accept my rule. To admit to the murders.”
“Then they deserved to die.”
I pressed my palms to my eyes, wishing the Stone’s glow could burn the sight from my memory. “Perhaps. But I take no pride in it. There’s been too much death already.”
Dren frowned. “And there will be more before ’tis done, no doubt. If word spreads of what happened here…”
Standing, I walked forward, toward the men.
“I have no wish to be a ruler my clan fears.”
“Those loyal to your father are not your clan. They are poisoned by hate.”
“Perhaps some can be redeemed,” I mused aloud, thinking of Kael and myself.
Without waiting for Dren to respond, I took the Stone from its pouch and turned it over in my hand. How some could wish for so much power, I didn’t understand. The things that were possible with the Stone of Mor’Vallis should be feared, not revered.
Feeling my strength returning, I joined the men, using my hand to unearth dirt as each of those fallen were carried into their graves with the Stone still in my left hand.
“We will give them this land.”
Dren wasn’t the only one to look at me as if I were mad.
“To honor the guards of Ashwick whose blood was spilled here,” I said, standing straighter. “Ashwick has little fertile ground, and this soil has been marked by their sacrifice. Let their kin plant where hate once rooted.”
Dren’s frown eased slightly, though doubt lingered. “Some will say you gift too freely.”
I touched the Stone, its steady glow warming my palm. “Let them say it. My father ruled by fear. I would rather bind our clans by balance and by justice that even humans can see.”
“Very well.”
“Your majesty?”
It took me a moment to realize it was me being summoned from behind. I turned as the messenger dismounted, his horse clearly spent.
“Aye?” I asked, immediately, and irrationally, thinking something might be wrong with Lyra. “What is it?”
“The king. Of Aetheria,” he clarified.
“What of him?”
“He’s going through the Gate.”
Although every Gyorian warrior who heard the message either froze in surprise or dropped their collective jaws—or both—I said nothing. Before Lyra, I’d have thought King Galfrid unfit to rule, to make such a decision. But now?
I understood it. But the implications of such an act…
“He would leave Aetheria without a ruler?”
Even temporarily, it was unheard of. And if something happened to the Gate after he went through it…
“No,” the young messenger said. “He called for an impromptu Trial of the Tempest in two days’ time.”
By the Stones. He wasn’t just going through the Gate. He was leaving Elydor for good.
“Go,” Dren said. “I will see the necessary tasks here complete. You should be there.”
“If there is another uprising—”
Dren laughed. “After this? If there is another uprising, it will be initiated by Gyorians with no will to live.”
Dren was wrong. There would be another uprising. Whether of blades or of truths long buried, I could not be certain. With luck, Elydor would be ready to face either.