Chapter Twenty Eight #2
She knew immediately who he referenced. Onskar.
The Arcanist of Souls wouldn’t have destroyed Jordaire’s sculptures regardless, but Jordaire’s response was telling.
Seeing his unravelling state, dilated eyes, made his goal clear: Jordaire danced with panic.
He had no idea what he did, except for wanting to destroy his treasures before Onskar could.
Jordaire’s poor attempts to make his arcane smaller and harder to track would be pointless. Onskar could sniff Jordaire out from ages away. He could dispose of anyone quickly enough, and with a horrifying totality.
Brushing her hand over the mess, she asked, “You did this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter? It’s done. Why are you here? You’re going to draw Onskar’s attention, and I can’t afford it!”
Terror glazed his tone, and she didn’t blame him.
Jordaire risked a great deal weeks ago when he used his arcane to extract the supposed diasvard from the land.
A false diasvard, it turned out. Only a fool would assume that Onskar hadn’t realized Jordaire’s betrayal and prepared a rebuttal.
Removal as Arcanist of the Land, most likely. Obliteration, as another possibility.
“The risk was worth it, Jordaire. Thank you for what you did. We needed you.”
His expression knotted together. Clearly, he didn’t agree, but her gratitude seemed to mollify his most blatant irritation.
She inquired, “I have another question, if you don’t mind?”
He grunted.
“Have you ever been to the Hall of the Land?”
Himmel carefully monitored his response, but he revealed only a mild surprise.
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
Surprise elevated her reply.
“You have?”
“Only once.”
“When?”
“Centuries ago, when I first presented.”
“Why didn’t you mention it?” she cried, lifting her hands in the air. He blinked, appearing utterly stymied.
“Why would I? He told me not to.”
“Because why?”
“I don’t know! I don’t make a habit of questioning those in power over me, particularly him.”
Himmel rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. We need your help.”
Jordaire groaned and dragged a hand down the side of his face.
“Not again!”
“Yes, again. I’ve come with updates from Draven, the Father King of the Wyverns, and Pedr.”
At Draven’s mention, Jordaire’s rebellious glower ebbed. His thin neck lowered into his torso. A frown appeared, heavy enough to burn. His mumble, however, lacked a true threat.
“What is it this time?”
Himmel recounted the latest updates about Pedr’s curse and the desperation to save him before Onskar obliterated his soul, but she skirted the plan. By the end, Jordaire’s scowl turned sinister.
“Why are you telling me? I don’t want anything to do with Pedr! I have enough work to do just keeping myself away from Onskar.”
“We need to know more about the Halls.”
“I don’t know much.”
“Tell me about yours.”
“What about it? I couldn’t go inside.”
“Did you try?”
“No.”
She spread her arms in utter astonishment. “Why not?”
“Onskar was with me!”
“So? Can you tell me anything?”
“I said no!”
Himmel frowned. Not unexpected, but still frustrating. If she couldn’t get descriptions from Jordaire, Einar and Mila would enter totally blind. She didn’t like the odds, but they had little recourse.
“I hoped you knew more.”
He jutted his chin forward. “I don’t. You can leave, Himmel.”
“One last request?”
Jordaire rolled his eyes. “What now?”
She commanded the spinning winds forward, bearing the citadel soil. “Will you tell me what these whispers mean?” The earthen windstorm dribbled into his open, filthy palm, dusted with shattered clay. Jordaire recoiled as the soil touched him.
“Himmel, you didn’t!”
“I pulled it from the mines near the citadels. It’s soil, Jordaire. It won’t hurt you.”
“It has magic!”
“I’ve been carrying it without harm.”
He scraped an arm across his nose, as if wiping away something foul. The wind curled protectively around the rich earth, ensuring that none of the memory went astray.
“It’s not just soil,” he spat. “You brought it from . . . from that place. Why would you go there? Magic permeates everything. It?—”
“Holds answers. The sky unraveled what few answers it could, but the truth lay in the earth. It wants to be heard.” She softened her tone.
“Please tell me. Pedr needs your help, and I might need it as well. The land always keeps secrets, and the sky is good for losing them. If you have any allegiance to your fellow Arcanists, please tell me the story. I have a feeling it matters.”
Himmel materialized into her human form enough to meet his insecure eyes. She had never revealed this much of herself to Jordaire. He softened with a quiet greeting.
“Ta.”
She smiled gently. “Ta, Jordaire. We both know Onskar will find you, and he’ll find me. The only thing we control is what we do with the time we have left.”
He pulled in a breath through his nose, scowled thoroughly, and finally kicked aside a half-broken statue of a singing siren.
“Fine.” He loosened through the arms. Upper lip curled, he hissed, “I can already hear the story from here. It’s telling the story of the diasvard.
I’ll relay it to you, but only to you. We cannot do it here, for the soil will remember, and this is the first place Onskar will seek me.
It must be somewhere else. Come. Follow me. ”