Dawn of Swords

CHAPTER 32

Her name was Aubrienna Meln of Stonewood, Brienna to those closest to her, and she was a ball of raging fire in the deep blackness of the approaching dawn. Brutes in armor and vile men in heavy black robes chased after her. They leapt across the river, seeming to float through the air, after she and her tall companion left their raft. The attackers’ arrival had been unexpected, and in no time she and her friend were separated. She faced a cadre of foes armed with swords and spears, with nothing but the cloak on her back and her bare hands to combat them.

It would be enough.

Power leapt from her fingers as she drew from a well of energy that she had not fully accessed in decades. She lifted one arm, and a wall of ice formed in front of her enemies. Another arm lifted, and the earth beneath their feet folded upward, crushing them in a tomb of dirt and stone. Brienna stepped back, gritting her teeth. She was frightened, but a part of her savored the force she was controlling. The ice wall shattered, and more men rushed forward with swords, their expressions showing no fear, only anger. Her hands worked their magic, twisting into the necessary formations, mimicking the secret runes born into the earth itself when the goddess formed Dezrel. Lances of ice and fire flew at her enemies, cutting them down one by one, the ice smashing their armor and the fire ravaging the flesh locked within.

Brienna desperately searched for her companion as the space around her grew more cluttered and chaotic in the aftermath of her attacks. Off in the distance, she could see the tents surrounding the half-completed tower. There would be people within, frightened and huddled together. The elf screamed with all her might as she saw more attackers hurrying toward the meager haven. Electricity danced off her fingertips, cutting them down as they glided over the violently rushing river.

That was when a sharp pain slammed into her, tensing muscles that had reached their peak ability after a century of training. She dropped to the ground. Her ears rang, and she found it hard to concentrate on anything. She sensed men rushing past her as if from afar, and the terrified, distant screams of the villagers became a terrible song.

With blurred eyes she looked up to see a man standing before her. He was bald, with crystal blue eyes that glimmered each time light flashed in her field of vision. He wore a dark cloak, and his grin showed the glee he took in torment. The man raised his hands above his head, bringing a rumble of thunder to the sky and a brightness so intense that it washed out all else that followed. Lightning pierced her flesh, sending agony throughout her body, making her quake uncontrollably. She was horribly aware of her muscles seizing, of her organs ceasing to function. With her last remaining breath she called out to her sister, a young elf she adored more than the world itself, to say good-bye before the darkness took her, before that blinding white faded into.…

Aully awoke shivering, her cheeks covered in tears, in the grimy hay on the floor of the cell that was now her home. Her eyes flew open, and she stared at the drab, gray wall, too horrified to move, too horrified to utter a word. What she’d seen, what she’d felt, had been far too vivid for a nightmare. Far too real. She didn’t know who the bald man and his lackeys were, but she knew in the deepest fibers of her being that they were somehow connected to the enemies who had turned her life into a never-ending string of horrors. She curled her knees to her chest and cried silent tears, wishing she could join her sister in whatever lay beyond death.

First her father, now Bree. All she had left was her mother and a brother whom she had never met and probably never would. Would the anguish never end?

Comforting hands caressed her back. Aully rolled over and saw Noni hovering above her, face lit solemnly by the torch that burned in the corridor outside their cell. The old elf gently wiped her tears away before leaning over and placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Don’t fear your nightmares,” she whispered. “They mean nothing.”

“This one did.”

Aully pushed away the old elf’s hand and sat up. She brushed her dirty hair from her face and glanced to her right, where her mother lay sleeping. From the looks of it, the Lady of Stonewood hadn’t received the same vision she had, and for that Aully was glad. Her mother had retreated within herself during the endless days of their imprisonment. She feared more bad news might be the end of her.

“Brienna’s gone,” she whispered. Aully looked up at her nursemaid, needing something without being sure what it was. Sympathy? Understanding? Someone to believe her?

“In what way, child?” Noni asked.

“Gone,” Aully insisted. “Forever. She’s dead.”

“How do you know this?”

“She said good-bye to me while I slept.”

Aully thought her nursemaid might doubt her, but she nodded instead.

“The connection between sisters is strong,” the old elf said. “Even those separated by so many years.”

Her words made the corners of Aully’s eyes twitch, tears readying themselves to be spilled anew. She sighed and closed them, only to be struck with the sensation of the lightning coursing through Brienna’s body and the image of her father’s head falling from his neck. The twin horrors should have broken her, but this time she felt a potent rage building inside her. She held her hands in front of her face and rubbed her fingers together, feeling the magic flow through her. She wished she were as strong as Brienna, wished she had studied the arts with the deceased Errdroth Plentos for fifty years, as her sister had. Brienna’s connection to the weave had been natural, as it had been for their father. Aully knew she should be stronger than she was. As her rage twisted inside her, she wished she were the strongest caster in all of Stonewood. She wished she had the power to turn the stone walls to rubble, to protect her people as they fled the horror that was now their lives.

A soft, whining creak split the pre-dawn darkness, and Aully shifted her gaze to her nursemaid. Noni stared back at her, shoulders slumped, resigned to what was to come. Each morning in the seemingly endless days since she and her thirty-one fellow elves from Stonewood had been thrown into this dungeon, a single jailer-always a member of the Quellan Ekreissar, not one of the regular Thyne sentries-would descend the stairs into the dungeon, placing food in front of the six cells that held them. When he left, he always brought a prisoner with him. First it had been Aully’s cousin Meretta, then Fressen, her father’s personal tailor. The worst had been when they’d taken Zoe, a young girl half Aully’s age who had been tapped to act as Presenter of Celestia when Aully and Kindren were married in four years’ time. She would have stood on the dais beside the Master of Ceremonies, flowers in her hair, and sung a song to the goddess above.

That day she sang no songs to Celestia-only screamed.

No one who had been taken was ever returned.

After Zoe, Aully had started closing her eyes whenever the jailer came, not wanting to know who would be ripped from her next. This time, though, she stood defiant, glaring through the iron bars and into the passage beyond, even as Noni gasped and tried to retreat deeper into the cell. She would not be frightened. She would not accept this as her fate, not even if it meant she would be the next to greet the executioner’s ax.

Bree would have fought back, Aully decided as the flickering light descended into the dungeon. And so would she.

Aully leaned against the bars of her cell, watching the light grow brighter as the footfalls became louder. She breathed in deep, concentrated pulls of air, trying to gather as much energy as she could into her body. She might not be able to command lightning and fire like Brienna or her father could, but she promised herself she would bring as much pain as she could to whoever came to torture them.

A sleek form emerged from the dungeon entrance and turned, and the power flowing through Aully’s veins dissipated in shock. She knew that lovely face, that delicately sloped nose, those intense, widely set eyes, that dark hair infused with strands of gold that flowed elegantly over the interloper’s shoulders. A sense of betrayal broke her fighting spirit as she watched Ceredon step forward, his free hand hovering over his khandar’s grip. It was the first time she had laid eyes on him since her world had come unhinged. The Quellan prince shoved the torch he carried into a brass loop embedded in the wall, removed a ring of keys from his belt, and approached the gate to Aully’s cell. She moved back, her hands dropping to her sides, tears already pricking behind her eyelids again.

“Not you,” she said softly. “It can’t be you.”

Ceredon jammed a key into the iron lock and twisted until the catch disengaged. Then he swung the gate open and stepped inside. Aully squeezed her hands into fists and closed her eyes, ready for him to grab her and rip her from the cell. Only no hands touched her. Instead Ceredon knelt before her and held a finger to his lips.

“Wake Lady Audrianna,” he whispered. “Come-we must hurry!”

Aully stood, shocked, as Noni slid next to her mother and shook her awake. The Lady of Stonewood, despite her grogginess and misery, seemed to understand what was happening the moment she laid eyes on Ceredon.

Everything grew more surreal with each passing moment. Aully’s mother rose from her resting place, trying to appear strong despite her dishevelment, and helped Ceredon as he opened each of the remaining cells. Door after door was unlocked, and the prisoners within awakened. Soon all that was left of the delegation from Stonewood stood shoulder to shoulder in the dungeon’s narrow passageway, expressions of confusion, fear, and relief stretched across their faces. Aully stood in front of them, next to her mother, and gazed at the Quellan prince with trepidation. For a moment she wondered if it were all a terrible trick, if Ceredon had been sent to instill her people with false hope before sending them all to their deaths.

No, she decided. After all her talks with Ceredon, the one thing she knew for certain was that the elf would rather die than play a part in such a horrific act of cruelty.

Ceredon gestured to the stairs, signaling for Aully and her people to follow him out. They formed a winding snake of shuffling footfalls as they climbed the constricted channel. The walls closed in on Aully, making her feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. She gazed at the heavy oak door up ahead, and in her mind she saw a row of archers awaiting them outside, ready to put arrows in their hearts the moment they emerged.

Only there weren’t archers awaiting them-or anyone living at all. Instead, the dimness of the dungeon was exchanged with the relative brightness of the moon-dappled early morning. Revealed in its light was a field of death.

First was the body of the Quellan elf guard sprawled out on the ground outside the dungeon entrance, his throat slit. But that sight paled in comparison to what came next, for the many who died the day their forest city had been taken were strung up on poles, as were those who had been stolen away each morning by the jailer. Each one faced away from Palace Thyne’s gilded emerald walls, a macabre warning to any who might think to turn against the new rule of Neyvar Ruven and his Ekreissar enforcers. Aully froze, staring in horror at the bodies of Demarti, Kara, Lucius, Meretta, and Fressen. Little Zoe was there too, dangling from a post by her wrists, the grass below her dark with a stain that glowed purple beneath the light of the moon. And farthest out, at the head of the trail of terror, was her father. Cleotis Meln, the former Lord of Stonewood. His head was shoved atop a pike, mouth hanging open, and beside it, nailed to a tall wooden plank, was the rest of his body.

Aully doubled over, gagging. She would have collapsed if not for Ceredon, who wrapped his arms around her, buried her face in the crook of his elbow, and ushered her forward. All sound was muffled with her ears blocked, and she was grateful that she did not have the chance to witness her mother’s reaction to seeing her husband presented in such a ghastly and degrading way.

She walked for what felt like hours, and Ceredon only released her when they were far beyond the city. Dawn was approaching, the sky swirling with deep purples and crimsons, when they reached the very edge of the forest of Dezerea. On one side was the massive expanse of Lake Cor, the lowland mountains on the other. Finally their liberator stopped and swiveled around. Aully turned too and saw that her people had gathered together.

“I apologize,” Ceredon said, addressing the congregation with a still-hushed voice. He’d seemed reluctant to talk during their escape, and no one had pressed him during their march. “For everything. I know it’s not much, not anything, really, but.…”

His voice trailed off. He looked as lost as everyone else there at the forest’s edge.

“Why?” Lady Audrianna asked, her anger boiling over into her voice. “Why has this happened? Why did you kill my husband and imprison us?”

“I did no such thing,” replied Ceredon, lowering his head and placing a hand on his chest. “I was not informed of my father’s plans, I swear. What happened was as much a shock to me as it was to you.”

“Do you think we would accept the apology of a Sinistel?” came Noni’s weak voice. “You cannot know the pain.…”

Ceredon winced but kept his head held high.

“I apologize for myself,” he said. “For my inaction. For my cowardice in waiting as long as I did to free you. I will not speak for my father, nor for my people. But I have lost much in all of this as well, do you not understand?”

Aully nodded. She could see it and almost understand it. He’d lost faith in his family, his beliefs, in the very morality of his people. She took a tentative step forward, gazing up at the beautiful prince, and when he looked back at her, she saw eyes full of conflict.

“Why?” she asked. “They’ll order your death for this.”

“Not mine,” Ceredon said. His cheeks flushed, and he suddenly looked embarrassed.

A call sounded from behind them. At first Aully felt panic, certain they’d been discovered, but when she turned she saw their rescuer, saw the elf who would be blamed for everything.

Kindren.

The elder Thynes approached them tentatively, but Kindren held his head high, refusing to hide his face. Lady Phyrra gave an awkward curtsey and Lord Orden bowed low, staying down longer than usual, as if he were fighting the need to look into the eyes of the people whose lives he had assisted in ruining.

“Your freedom has been granted,” Ceredon said. “Not by me, but by them.”

Lord Orden opened his mouth to say something but closed it quickly.

Kindren pushed past his parents and approached Ceredon. The Quellan prince offered his arm, and Kindren took it, an acknowledgment of mutual respect passing between them. Their hands released, and Kindren turned around, facing Aully. Their eyes met, and then all his attempts at remaining solemn and proud broke down, and he was once again the young elf Aully had fallen in love with. He dashed toward her, all pretenses gone, letting out a heart-wrenching sob as he wrapped his arms around her. Aully dug her fingers into the clothing on his back, never wanting to let him go. She melted into him, sobbing, letting his gentle kiss on her cheek wash away, if only for the briefest of moments, her painful memories. She heard gasps from those gathered behind her, and then Kindren released her, stepping back to face them.

“I will be held responsible for your release,” he said, struggling to sound strong, like the lord he would one day have been had the world’s sanity not collapsed around him. “Ceredon used my blade to slice the guard’s throat, and clues pointing toward my culpability have been placed around the palace. I will bear the sole blame; I’m sure of it.”

Lady Thyne stifled a sob, and then her husband came forward, standing beside his son.

“Please, all of you,” he said, sounding timid and afraid. “I need you to understand we had no choice. The Neyvar is strong, and the might of his nation would have obliterated us. We had no choice but to obey, lest we lose our own lives.”

On hearing his words, Aully’s mother advanced on the Lord of Dezerea. No one dared stop her, not even when she slapped Orden across the face, and then grabbed the lapel of his overcoat and pulled him close to her.

“No choice?” she said. “You allowed my husband to be murdered; you allowed men, women, and children to be strung up like animals, and you now ask for our understanding?” Audrianna spat in his face, a shimmering glob that struck him above the eye and dripped down over his nose. “In your position, we would have given our lives to protect you, even if the Neyvar had shown up with an entire legion. But I see now that honor ends at Stonewood’s borders and exists nowhere else in this forsaken world of humankind. Even our fellow Dezren have cast it aside.”

Behind them, Lady Thyne began to cry.

“There is no forgiveness for you,” said Aully’s mother, first to Orden, then Phyrra. “Not now, not ever.”

With that, she released the Lord of Dezerea and backed away. Orden, for his part, shuffled nervously from foot to foot, his head hanging in shame. Part of Aully felt sorry for him; but another part, the one that had watched her father beheaded and seen the mutilated bodies of her people on display, wished him a horrible, drawn-out death.

“And what of you two?” said her mother, facing Kindren and Ceredon.

“I will return to Dezerea and take my place by my father’s side,” said Ceredon, a darkness falling over his complexion. “Know that I do not condone his actions, nor do I understand them. All I know is that some sort of pact has been made with the god of the east, a pact that goes against our goddess’s decree. So I will stay, and learn what I can. I must find out all that I can to save my people from themselves, before they fall out of favor with Celestia forever. Know that in the court of Quellassar you have at least one ally.”

Lady Audrianna seemed touched, and she dipped her head in respect.

“And you?” she asked, turning to Kindren.

In response, Kindren dropped to one knee, took her hand, and kissed the back of it. A look of surprise came over the face of the Lady of Stonewood.

“The sins of my family have forever indebted me to you, Lady Audrianna,” he said, gazing up into her eyes. “Please, let me join you in exile from this place. I do not fear the death that will come for me if I stay, only that I would die without ever seeing my beloved Aullienna again.”

His gaze flicked over to Aully, and she stood breathless, unable to move. Her mother’s expression remained stoic as she stared at the young elf kneeling before her, giving no answer. She looked to Aully, then back at Kindren.

“Time is short,” Ceredon dared say. “They will discover your escape within the hour, if they have not already. It will not take them long to find our trail.”

“Of course you can join us,” Lady Audrianna whispered. Her hardness suddenly broke, and she was once more the frail woman who had huddled silently in the dungeon cell. “Though we may not have a home to return to…not if the betrayal the Neyvar spoke of is true.”

“Where we stay does not matter,” Kindren replied. “All that matters is that we stay alive and we stay together.”

He reached out for Aully then, and she went to him, accepting his arm around her waist as the rest of her people turned away from the shimmering lake. The sky brightened overhead, and the sun was close to poking over the eastern horizon. Lord and Lady Thyne left silently, and Aully bid them a soundless good riddance. Ceredon stood before the group for a moment longer, brushed his dark hair off his shoulders, and offered them a salute, his elbow locked and his fist clenched. Aully shrugged out of Kindren’s grasp and ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist and pressing her head against his chest.

“Thank you,” she said, gazing up into his soulful brown eyes. There were tears in them. Aully had never seen the prince of the Quellan cry. Oddly, the sensitivity suited him.

“What I do, I do for us all,” he said, and then he kissed two fingers of his right hand and pressed them against her temple. “But I also do it for you. Always.”

Those were his last words. He turned and ran into the surrounding trees with nary a sound. Aully watched him disappear, her heart going out to him. She worried for his safety. Should his father find out what he’d done.…

Don’t think like that, she thought. She rejoined Kindren and the rest of her people. They began the journey southeast, deciding to stay in the shelter of the low mountains until it was time to return home. They could not return to Stonewood, not if Detrick had truly taken over. Aully leaned into Kindren and imagined life going forward, wherever that might happen. Going forward. It was all they could expect from then on out, for it was a brave new world.

Beneath the burgeoning light of morning, the haggard group of elves disappeared over a mountain ridge, heading bravely for points unknown, with only their mutual love and the clothes on their backs to protect them. Aully prayed it would be enough. She knew it would have been for Brienna.