2. Ocean Jasper
“What do you mean?” Liana asks.
My gaze is discerning as I look at her from across the room and study her features. Slowly, I hold up the scroll and stalk closer. She tracks the movement, confusion clouding her clear gaze until the moment where Teo’Likh’s name is on clear display for all to see.
“Some light reading, I see,” she says with a frown.
I glimpse Vann’s deep glower as I move in front of Liana so she can see the words. The others cram closer, namely Ulla and Svanna, who read the text with silent, moving lips.
“Yes,” I say firmly. “I was told that we betrayed them by not giving sufficient warning about the potential dangers of using the volcano. That we went to war to expand our borders and put an end to our land war with the giants for good.” My skull rattles with all the things I thought I knew, but I continue, “Except, this personal record shows a much different story. He speaks of darkness and mentions the wise women’s involvement.”
Liana nods thoughtfully. “If it mentions the wise women, he’d be mentioning Mother Urira.”
I take a deep breath, still not quite understanding how Liana connects into all of the pieces. Searching for tactful words is an impossible task in the face of my bone-deep tiredness. “Yes. So, what did you do?”
Liana shakes her head. “Mother Urira was my mentor, but that did not mean me or the others were her protégés. She was nearly three hundred years older than me, and she was a marvelous teacher, but she worked for the king. As I work for you. That affords a level of privacy and decorum, especially when entrenched in the old ways.”
Her words carry the metallic clarity of truth, so I take another fortifying breath to help me steady my thoughts. The others continue to look on, silent as I plunder past whatever they’d been discussing.
“But surely you knew something,” I insist. “When I mentioned the Elven Artifact, I saw the recognition in your gaze. The elves hating us for not disclosing the severity of the power always made sense to me—they died in droves during the eruption like anyone else—but that was only part of the story.”
Liana shakes her head. “And I’m telling you—Urira was the one who knew about that. It was something whispered among us while we painted and shaped the star cards.”
I grit my teeth, and the pulsing in my head intensifies. “Tell me what you know.”
She worries her lower lip. “The elves have a much different way of viewing magical artifacts. We don’t need to exhaust power. There always is enough. Our gods taught us that nothing is lost, merely shifted. And with time, it shifts back, like the cycles of the stone and the earth beneath our feet.
“While we view everything as imbued with this power, they have a… penchant for finding, harvesting, and enchanting objects. Trees are alive in a way stone is not. Elves are selfish and can only be convinced to share power through hierarchy of power. All that power came from one place—their godly artifact. That artifact was split in three, their holiest number, but the magic was not split evenly.”
“How so?” Svanna asks, listening just as intently as me.
“In the Elvish tradition, women mean little. But… between the three orbs, one is given to the king, the other to his firstborn son, and the final is bestowed upon his firstborn daughter.” Liana’s face turns downward.
Svanna’s eyes narrow, and gazes thoughtfully at the scroll. “I take it the weakest part was for the girl.”
“Precisely. Merely a few drops of power, in comparison to the whole goblet-full of power given to the heir. The king, of course, would have power that surpassed them at all.”
As I watch the wise woman”s expression, it darts back and forth, as if she were trying to find something long lost. Her eyes study the stones beneath our feet, flitting between each crack and juncture.
At last, Liana speaks again. “I remember that your father needed more power to control the volcano. Your Ma’ family line has always been strong, but he found the abundant blessings poured out from his Fuegorra and the main Ardorflame Temple insufficient. Urira herself spoke less than a handful of times about something called the Cumhacht na Cruinne.
“It translates roughly to… the power of the universe. It was a gift from Doros at the dawn of the elves. But I didn’t know your father ever went for it. I recall… the undertaking to remove it forcefully from the elven capital would have accrued exorbitant casualties.”
The words I’ve studied pass before my eyes quickly, in flashing motions. Liana’s attempts to deflect do little to squash the feeling deep in my gut—the one that tells me I just know. My father had nine personal battalions dedicated to guarding his riches. Nine thousand soldiers. I’d bet they were all guarding that artifact.
I push past everyone and slump into the throne, allowing myself to bend slightly under the weight of exhaustion.
My father stole one of the oldest artifacts from the elves.
A sour bile rises in my throat. It is hard to pinpoint the moment when Father’s madness began. The ramblings I read sounded little more than the musings of an old fool playing the part of a savior.
The true price of leadership is the willingness to place the needs of the many above the needs of the few, his voice whispers to justify his bloody crusade.
Memories of the elves’ murderous rage from hours ago return. His choices are being paid for in the safety of my mate. My woman, who should be nestled in my arms as her heart beats in time with my own. Perhaps…
“Teo—” Ulla starts.
I interrupt her with, “How is Lothar?”
The healer, Ulla, shakes her head. “He is sleeping. Iryth is tending to the worst of his wounds.”
My ears almost prick up at that as I look at Svanna, Iryth’s mate. They have a small baby together. “And Sama?”
Svanna’s lips quirk up at the corner, clearly grateful for something lighter to speak of. “I’m sure she left him with Lyria. She’s one house down from us and loves a cuddle.”
I exhale, still not feeling much better. “If Lothar isn’t available, send for Turalyon. We need to contact the elves.” Turalyon was sent with Lothar on the mission to visit the elves. Hopefully he will be able to tell us something useful.
Salo speaks up this time. “My King, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I hold up my hand. “Peace, Salo.”
The words cast a bit of frosty dissonance in the air.
“I would be called Ra”Salore,” he says. Salo had always been a quiet, somewhat dissenting member of the personal advisors, but he is a talented stone bender and has served his people well. His brother was the one who sacrificed himself to the giants for peace, and I can see he will never fully forgive me for it.
Weary, I drag my gaze to his. “That is how you were once called. We changed our customs.”
He straightens his back. “Unlike some, I am proud of my family name—the one my brother Tirin also carried before his death. I wish to carry it on.”
Exhaustion makes my flesh sag against bone. I don’t have time to argue.
“Very well, Ra”Salore. I merely want to know what Turalyon found out during his time at court. I don’t intend to go racing off to the men who just orchestrated the abduction of my mate,” I say wryly.
He nods once. It’s a sharp, jagged movement, and with his old name restored, he almost looks different. Hardened.
Fira, who has been quiet to this point, excuses herself to find Turalyon. The silence weighs in the room.
My body wilts into the stone throne, when Liana clears her throat. “If you refuse to sleep, will you at least let me help?”
My head barely moves, which is the best agreement I can give at this moment.
“Ulla,” she urges softly. The two of them approach the throne and rest their hands on my head. I hardly protest when they start to sing in tandem. Energy pours out of the crystals around the room and flows into my very soul. The vibrations wake me up, and my mind feels more alert—it seeks out the bond once again, stroking its shimmery brilliance.
Then they move back, and I adjust my position on the throne.
“My King, I ask again, you wish to court the elves once more? Perhaps this time they won’t just kill a few of us—they’ll finish the job properly,” Ra”Salore says.
I shake my head. “We will wait for Turalyon, and then we will make a plan to seek out more soldiers. Yes, perhaps even from the elves. While I understand your concern, we must go for my mate. The giant court has been restored to its full glory. If we don’t seek out help from someone, we would still risk dying out for good.”
I open my eyes again, the blurriness gone, now replaced with the downturned concern from those before me.
It’s strange to be familiar enough with a group of people to hear their words through the slightest curve of their mouths, both up or down, or the wrinkles around their brows and eyes.
Vann stares at me, eyes full of bitter, almost reluctant, understanding. His vows of allegiance are apparent in his confident, straight-up posture. He is willing to follow, to trust.
Ulla’s eyes are full of thinly veiled concern as she frowns and bounces her bright blue irises from my disheveled hair to the patch of skin under each of my eyes, and the spectacles that rest on the crook of my nose.
Ra”Salore watches me with distaste. Loudly voiced disagreement is apparent in every sharp angle of his nose, chin, and ears.
Liana is thoughtful as she meets my eyes, unflinching. Wise. Slightly horrified as she considers what her mentor might have done to the elves.
Svanna… Svanna is unwaveringly steady. Eager to watch, to correct where she sees fit. That is why it is strange to me she has not yelled at me for my lack of sleep, too.
Another part of me knows that she understands. Her love for Iryth is unmatched. I can almost hear her mind churning, knowing without a doubt that she would also take risks if her family was separated the same way mine had been.
Thank the gods for each of them.
The silence is anything but uncomfortable when Turalyon’s footsteps return to join us. The young Enduar bows before the throne, and I extend my arm, gesturing for him to approach.
“My King,” Turalyon says again, this time bowing further.
“Thank you for coming, Turalyon. I realize that there hasn’t been much time to do a full debriefing after your return from the elves…”
I trail off. When he arrived mere days ago, with the elf King Arion, we spoke of nothing more than the festival. Of my wedding.
Pain slashes across my body. I keep it locked away under the need to know. To learn more about what we are up against.
Turalyon clears his throat. “Yes. There was much to report, and Lord Lothar was hoping to organize everything into a presentation for the whole council.” He scans those around me, then straightens his back. “I assure you, I will be able to answer any questions you might have had for him while he is healing.”
I nod once, pleased with the man’s honor. “How would you classify the health of the elvish court?”
“Excellent. Their capital is entirely rebuilt, and there appears to be enough citizens to maintain the general population. It is a beautiful place, as far as forest cities go. A pleasing waterfall is located in the center of the?—”
I frown. “They are doing well? Then why stir up a war between us?”
Turalyon pauses. “Your Majesty, I don’t know. Half a dozen archers escorted us from the gate to the palace, but we were never verbally threatened. After our initial meeting, King Arion showed us their woodworkers, gave us gifts of cloth, and let us listen to their musical instruments. The trees, it seems, do sing back as our stones do. We dined on their breads and leafy foods.”
The only time I’d ever gone to Shvathemar was when I was still a child. The memories are fuzzy, and mostly incomplete. “What were their military forces like?”
Turalyon’s eyebrows draw together. “There are more archers than I could’ve anticipated. Very few women though, it seems they restrict them to their homes.” At this, Turalyon frowns. “Come to think of it, there were whispers about a group of women living in the woods.”
I sit up. Just what I was hoping for. Those who place their misogynistic ideals over the happiness of all their citizens deserve a gods-damned female-led rebellion.
“What? Where?”
He shrugs. “I’m sure Lothar would know more about it. His hearing is better than mine.”
“Lothar is two inches from death right now. I suggest you think harder,” Svanna pipes up. Her sharp words pierce, but I can’t fault her.
Turalyon frowns and thinks for a moment. The silence is electric. “I think there had been skirmishes or something of the sort. They are in the northern forest, closer to the border between the giants and the elves.”
“Excellent. Then we will go there.” I nod once, pleased to have a lead.
Those around me agree, and Vann starts for the door just as Turalyon shakes his head.
“No, we shouldn’t try to go there. They don’t use archers and diplomacy; they are assassins skulking through hidden shadows. They’ll kill us on sight, and we might not even see them coming.”
I raise an eyebrow. “They’d kill us, or the elves?”
Turalyon sputters. “The elves said?—”
“Exactly. They spoke their misguided words into existence without anything to support it. An enemy of our enemy can only be our friend—we just need to introduce ourselves.”
Ulla steps forward. “Not until you sleep.”
Turalyon looks helpless, but I am not about to let a good idea go to waste. Surely, we can handle something as perilous as this without coming home in a box. Turalyon is a little younger than Velen, the singer, but he remembers the old days.
Turalyon has voiced his hope for a family like the rest of the hunters. If he wants it so badly, he should understand these are the risks and sacrifices we take to forge a better future.
I wave Ulla off. “I feel much better now. In fact, Ulla, why don’t you come with us?” My gaze filters around the room. “Ra’Salore, the stone bender, Ulla the healer, and Turalyon the budding diplomat. We’ll make an excellent team.”
Ulla shakes her head. “You need more hunters.”
I raise my hands. “So, I’ll bring Niht, too!”
Vann steps forward, mouth open, but he’s interrupted by the wise woman.
“Ma’Teo.” Liana’s prickly tone makes me turn around, slowly. I look at her, lips pursed and arms crossed. “You will sleep this time. No reading.” She snatches the scroll out from under my arm. “I will check.”
Vann lopes over to my side. “I’ll take him.”
I let out another breath and submit to my fate. As we walk, the weight from before returns. No sooner than we pass the familiar passageway that leads to the scrying grotto and the bathing pools than Vann speaks again.
“I doubt you would appreciate my lullabies, brother, so I suggest you seek slumber as quickly as possible.”
I let out the first semblance of a laugh in the last six hours. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a musical note leave your lips.”
He smiles. “Ahh, but the sound of steel leaving my belt is sweet enough for me to resist the art of crystal singing.”
I, somehow, smile again. “What if your mate appreciates a kind song to ease her into sleep?”
The easiness is blotted out by a large, looming emotion.
“You forget I will have no mate,” he growls.
I look back at him, somehow also angry. “I think you will, and I grow tired of pretending you don’t already have her. I don’t understand the intricacy of why a Fuegorra would or wouldn’t sing, but I feel?—”
“My crystal will never sing.”
I stop just before my room. “Vann, the humans are here to stay, and we are dying. If it’s not Arlet, I am sure it will be someone else. Though, there is something in the air between you two. Perhaps I could ask Liana to look at you and find out what is amiss.”
My friend’s face is as cold as ice. “I will speak to her if I wish.”
The guarded, roughness of his face troubles me. “Has something happened to you?” I ask.
The flicker on his face comes seconds before the denial, but it is too late. I’ve already seen his truth.
There is a small nudge in my gut, pushing me towards solving whatever this is. But, another part of me knows that I can only solve one problem at a time.
“You won’t go with us tomorrow,” I say. “There is no one I’d rather trust this city to than you.”
“I’m not so wise or level-headed as you,” he says.
I smile sadly. “You have been around the throne just as long as I have. You can do this.”
Vann opens his mouth to resist again, but I shake my head. He knows I’m right. Besides, a part of me isn’t settled with his love life. If there is some problem preventing him and Arlet from being together, I will be able to solve it when I get back.
“Sleep well, brother,” Vann says, reaching out and putting a hand on my shoulder. “Would it help you if I stayed nearby?”
Even upset, he offers to be a friend. Without thinking, I pull him into an embrace.
“Thank you, but I am all right,” I say as he eases himself out of my grip.
When he turns to leave, I feel like I can finally sleep.
I just pray the gods will keep Estela until I return.