Chapter Fifteen – Scarlett
Chapter Fifteen
Scarlett
Unlike the thousands of proud tents belonging to my army, the tribe’s encampment was small – little more than twenty tents, the rest razed to ash on General Harte’s order.
I hadn’t agreed with his decision, but I hadn’t argued against it. The Red Desert tribes were known allies of the Zigilians, and they had a reputation as fierce fighters. So we had dealt with them before they could pose a threat.
I glanced at the mass grave dug to the left of the camp, then back at the hollow-cheeked people who emerged from their tents.
By the looks of it, my forces had been thorough.
And I doubted that the remaining tribespeople – mostly healers, children and elders – would be eager to help us.
A thought that was confirmed when a few dozen surviving warriors encircled us with raised swords and spears.
‘ Do something ,’ Lillian hissed from behind me.
The warriors were painted for war, instantly setting me on edge. As my vulnerability flared, so did pride and anger – but threatening them would achieve nothing.
I held up my hands in a gesture of submission. ‘We come in peace.’
The warriors didn’t respond except to drag Aric and Lillian off the horse, speaking in a language I didn’t recognise – an unsettling development, considering I’d studied the native languages of Etheria and Zigilia.
But since most of the Western Lands communicated in the common tongue, there must be someone who could understand it.
‘Don’t touch me,’ I snapped, when one of the warriors reached upwards.
I slid from the horse with as much dignity as I could muster, but as soon as my feet hit the ground they were on me, removing my dagger and the sword strapped to my hip.
I strode forward, ignoring the weapons levelled in my direction.
‘He’s hurt,’ I said, pointing to Aric. ‘Do you have a healer who can help him? Where is your leader?’
The warriors merely tugged Aric from Lillian’s arms. Two of them began to carry him into the encampment.
‘If Aric dies,’ Lillian said quietly to me, ‘I’ll never forgive you.’
I nodded curtly back, but it was too late to wish we had stayed in the Ravalian camp.
After hours of riding through the desert, we had reached a critical point: our meagre provisions were severely depleted, we were exhausted, and our skin was burned and chapped from sun exposure and dehydration.
It wasn’t just Aric’s survival that depended on these people.
Escorted at spear point, we followed the warriors inside the largest tent. I had been hopeful that Severin’s name might still carry some weight here, and that perhaps we could come to amicable terms.
But as I passed the ragged, unsmiling people of the Red Dunes, with their hard faces and even harder eyes, I began to worry that they wouldn’t bother with politics at all – and would simply cut our throats.
Severin .
The tribe’s leader bore a striking resemblance to him.
My traitorous heart stuttered as I took in the young man’s red vest, dark skin, ebony hair, and bared, muscular arms. But his face was squarer than Severin’s, and the keen eyes he fixed on me weren’t piercing, mismatched shades of black and grey, but an ordinary hazel.
Though he was far from ordinary. Black tattoos decorated his cheeks: a palm with an open eye in its centre.
I went still. Those weren’t the symbols of his tribe.
Those were the symbols of a seer . Sacred symbols that Zandri had dishonoured when she had used them in the Order of Artisans. And she hadn’t merely stolen their symbols. No – she had stolen seers, too, hunting them down and offering them two choices: serve her or die.
This was going to be even harder than I’d thought.
Aric was laid out in front of the seer. A woman crouched nearby, bowls of herbs spread around her. A healer, no doubt. So the warriors had understood me after all.
I still tensed when she reached for Aric’s bare chest, smearing a paste across his skin. When I made an involuntary movement forward, I heard the rasp of a sword unsheathing behind me.
‘Hold, Korin.’ It was the seer who spoke, his gaze fixed on the warrior I felt at my back.
Satisfied that I wasn’t about to be cut down, he refocused his attention on me.
‘Your companion will not be harmed. Lilah is merely treating his symptoms, trying to dispel his fever. She will do nothing more until I give the word.’
A threat – or an offer. I couldn’t tell which.
‘I’m surprised to find a seer here,’ I said cautiously.
‘I’m sure you are.’ His voice – Gods, it was deep and melodic, and it hit me like a punch to the gut.
But Severin’s voice had never been quite so cutting.
‘I was in Damar for a while, trying to resolve the situation without bloodshed. By the time I Saw the attack on the Red Dunes, I was too late to stop the worst of it.’
All magic had its limitations, and this was one I was familiar with. Artisans – or seers – could only See a future outcome when someone decided to act. Unfortunately for the people of the Red Dunes, General Harte had made his decision quickly and executed it in a matter of hours.
‘I didn’t order the attack on your people.’
The seer tilted his head, studying me. ‘Yet you didn’t stop it.’
‘Aric tried to.’ I nodded at his motionless form, and the seer followed my gaze. ‘He argued with the generals, even though he knew it was hopeless. If I hadn’t intervened, he would have been demoted – or worse. That’s how strongly he values human life.’
‘And what of you?’ the seer asked softly. ‘What do you value?’
I forced myself to consider the question. The answer that sprang to mind wasn’t the one I had been expecting.
‘Freedom.’ Realising how that sounded, I added, ‘For myself – and for others.’
The warriors stirred sceptically at my back, but the seer considered my words in silence.
Taking his silence as an invitation to continue, I said, ‘Zigilia is rebelling because of the absolute control imposed by my father. But I am not my father. I am willing to negotiate fairer terms, including lower taxes and the appointment of a Zigilian Provincial Governor, rather than a Ravalian one. If the insurgency had been willing to meet with me, all of this bloodshed could have been avoided.’
‘For Zigilia to be free, Ravalia must first relinquish control. Any Provincial Governor you installed would act in the interests of the Ravalian Empire.’
‘Zigilia is part of the Ravalian Empire,’ I said, my voice sharp.
‘I cannot change that, nor do I believe it should change. But I am willing to allow Zigilia many of the freedoms my father stripped from her.’ I paused, choosing my next words carefully.
‘My father’s mistake was prioritising Ravalia’s prosperity over countries like Zigilia, but we are all part of the one empire.
I intend to honour that. And once Zigilia reaps the benefits of being part of the Ravalian Empire, I believe its people will consider some fair oversight an acceptable trade. ’
‘Seers used to rule Zigilia,’ he said. ‘Under your father’s occupation, we were rounded up and forced to serve in the Order of Artisans instead.
Any child born with the gift was either forced to report to the Ravalian Warriors – or flee to avoid detection, risking their life and the lives of anyone who aided them. ’
Clearly, the man in front of me had chosen the latter. It was impressive that he had survived this long.
‘I have no involvement in that practice,’ I told him. ‘My father’s cruelties aren’t mine.’
‘They are if you do nothing to correct them.’ The seer’s voice was mild, but the implication of his words was not.
‘I don’t have the power to make those kinds of changes,’ I said coolly. ‘I’m not the empress.’
‘But you could be.’
I watched the seer closely. I had seen a similar expression before – on Severin. Right after he had looked into the future.
‘Is that a prediction?’
The man’s smile held a calculating edge. Too late, I realised that my question had exposed a weakness. A weakness he could exploit.
But he didn’t press his advantage except to say, ‘Leave us.’
The warriors filed out, escorting Lillian along with them. She shot me a nervous glance as she left the tent, but I didn’t try to intervene. I had no authority here, and nothing good would come from trying to force the issue.
When we were alone, the seer approached Aric. His eyes closed as he brought two fingers to Aric’s feverish brow.
‘Is it poison?’ I asked anxiously, crossing the tent. The furs were soft against my knees as I knelt on Aric’s other side.
‘Of a sort,’ came his distracted reply.
Do all seers speak in useless riddles?
Tempering my impatience, I said, ‘Can you help him or not?’
‘It’s not my help he needs.’ When the seer finally looked at me, his expression was hard to read. ‘Did you truly believe you could invite death into you without a cost?’
‘Are you saying . . .’ I stared down at Aric’s pallid skin, my chest tightening as I listened to his rapid, shallow breathing. ‘Are you saying that I did this?’
‘Magic comes with consequences,’ he replied. ‘To yourself – and to those closest to you. Every time you embrace death, your powers become stronger. But death is toxic to the living.’
I released my grip on Aric’s arm, staring down at my hands. I had caused this. With my hands, my lips, my touch –
‘You’re no longer poisonous,’ the seer said, his voice gentle. ‘Your touch won’t hurt him now. But if you want to save Aric, you will have to invite the death magic back into your body.’
I didn’t hesitate. Reaching for Aric, I sliced a thin cut across his palm.
The moment the blood welled, my remaining doubts disappeared. The seer had told the truth.
I stared down at the black blood, wishing I could feel horrified at what I had done. But as the veins wound up my arms, all I felt was numb.