bloody search

The room was deadly silent.

Zyianna broke the silence finally, asking in a low voice, “What?” Those around her barely dared to breathe.

“Hawk’s dead, lady,” the guard said, still panting from lack of breath. “His Highness is gone. There was a drug-soaked rag on the floor.”

Zyianna’s gaze snapped to Dmitri. “Shadow,” she barked, “Did you know anything was afoot concerning my son?”

Dmitri shook his head. “Lady, if anything our sources were quieter regard… oh, damn.” His eyes grew wide. “Lady, this is big.”

“Don’t tell me this is big, Shadow, I already know that,” she snapped. “My son is missing.”

Dmitri frowned. “I’ll send out every Key I have to spare to begin the search. “

“We’ll send out everyone,” Zyianna snapped, “Including you.”

Dmitri nodded, and stepped backward. “Lady, I shall call them immediately.” He all but ran out of the room.

Zyianna turned her gaze to the others. “Lord Kofort, muster the regular watch. Discreetly.” She continued to give orders to the others until only she and Tari were left.

“And me, Lady?” Tari asked, her warm voice full of worry.

“You, Tari, will stay by my side. We will go find Hawk, ascertain he is dead and not drugged, and we shall wait. That is what Queens must do, after all.”

She smiled bitterly. “Perhaps we shall let Tristan know his son may soon be joining him in the afterlife.”

“Yes, Lady,” Tari murmured. “You did remember to tell Shadow to examine the drug on the rag?”

“He already knows to do it.” Zyianna looked out the window wearily. Somewhere out there, maybe in the bright, shining city, maybe not, was her son. The last remnants of her husband and her dearest love.

They had better find him.

foreshortened view of everything

Faelan. Devlin’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile at the word. She would never be a Faelan, not a true one, if she couldn’t find her familiar. She’d be a child the rest of her life if she couldn’t.

All of her friends had their familiars. Most of them had already begun to neglect them. What made her different? Perhaps she just wasn’t getting into the world enough. That’s what her teachers told her. Perhaps she was looking in all the wrong places. That’s what her friends told her. Perhaps she was waiting for something that would never come. That was what her father told her.

She sighed and looked down at her lute. Another thing her father disapproved of.  What use was it in the wide world? Really?

Perhaps she ought just give up, stop searching. Become a doctor’s assistant. You couldn’t become a real doctor without being a faelan of course, but she could still help. And that was more than she was accomplishing now.

Dratted child. Dratted rules, dratted children’s level. She plucked one of the strings of her lute, then, suddenly disgusted, threw it upon the bed and sat down. What would it take to make her a faelan? Really.

Too much of the world, that was the answer. Too much of everything.

piece by piece by piece

Things fall apart. Catelyn hated watching it happen. She plunged her hand into the middle of the broken hourglass and lifted up a handful of sand and broken glass. This had been a relic.

Piece. Saira. By piece. the wind. By piece. Pekkan politics. By piece. Zyianna’s rules. By piece. Old memories. By piece, things fell apart.

Her lord was falling apart. She could see it in his eyes. He still acted as calmly and rationally as ever, his decisions just and manner mild. But he made mistakes. She found herself correcting him more than ever now. And he used the immersive practice room near every day now, killing himself in an illusion because of the problems in real life he couldn’t fix.

She sighed, and swept the sand into a handkerchief. Luckily, pieces could be mended. People could fix things. She carefully slotted the wooden base of the hourglass back together and laid the first layer of glass pieces. She ran her hand along the inside, and they melded together. Piece by piece, things could change.

no longer have the capacity to feel anything

“That’s all,” Dmitri said softly. He pushed the papers over to Taelynn. Her heartstone rested on top of one of them. “Good luck in the world.”

She looked at the papers and the stone for a long while before she handed Dmitri his stone and walked away, blinking rapidly.

So that was it. He threaded his heartstone back onto the chain around his neck and fastened it again. At the age of 41, Dmitri was a single man. No children any longer, thanks to Light. No wife. He sighed.

At least now he could devote more time to the Keys. Zyianna needed him. Illanen needed him. Now he could be there for them. He picked up his share of the papers and walked out of the office. Once he was outside, he clenched the papers in his fist. They were burning before they hit the ground. Leave no evidence. Of anything.

His home would feel awfully empty.

my heart is hardn’d, I cannot repent

He slit the man’s throat without so much as a twitch of expression and stood back up, looking at the body. “There was a time when I would have felt guilty about that,” he told the body quietly.  He looked at the necklace he had cut away from the man, then twisted a couple of designs on the pendant. It turned into a Key.

“I thought so,” he murmured, and looked down at the dead man’s twisted face. They got younger every year… Just like his. He supposed he shouldn’t blame Shadow. They were both trying to beat each other at their own game, but still. Eighteen years of life was all this boy had experienced. And now he would have to experience un-life.

He bent down and opened the boy’s eyes, a wide and unusual hazel, and drew a circle around him.  Then he drew a second circle and sat down inside of it. Poor child. Poor damn child.  He still didn’t feel bad enough for him to stop this process, though.

He didn’t have his candles; it was a good thing he didn’t strictly need them. They were mostly to honor and appease the dead soul, and who needed that when they were working with a Key? Damn emotionless hired killers. Even if they were just babies now.

“Come to me,” he whispered, concentrating on the boy. He could hear the soul screaming already– no surprise, with someone as recently killed as this. He gritted his teeth to work through the soul’s pain, felt the touch of the void, felt it pulling and twisting at his soul. Not this time. He wouldn’t be becoming a Ghaunt until he was well and truly dead.

The corpse blinked.

He smiled grimly. “Hello, revenant,” he said, leaning forward, chin resting in his hands. “I have some questions for you.”

while my darling one sleeps

Taelynn sat up in the bed, looking over at Dmitri. He was twisted again, face contorted and hands clenched. She sighed, and brushed some of his silver hair out of his face.  And he wondered why he never felt rested. Her gaze fell to the scars covering his torso, and she winced. She knew what they were from: one of a privileged few that even knew Dmitri had been in Saira in the first place.

They went through this pattern every few nights, as much as they both hated it. He would start whimpering in a few minutes, and she would wake him up before the whimpers turned to screams.  She would have started watching for him, waking him up earlier, or even going through his dreams with him, a watcher and waker, but he’d stubbornly refused. Said what he’d gone through was almost too much for him, he wasn’t going to share it with his wife. But she’d walked in his dreams before, invisible, silent.

You share your joy, you share your pain. That was part of the vows they’d spoken, part of their oath to one another. And now Taelynn knew what his pain was. She almost had nightmares about it herself, and she’d only walked his dreams once.  She had renewed respect for this man.

He started to whimper. Taelynn reached over to the bedside table and put her glasses on.  In just a minute now… She reached over and touched Dmitri’s shoulders lightly. His eyes snapped open, and he curled up, shaking.

“T-Taelynn,” he said, his voice shaking just as much as he was. Tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“Ssh, shh, I’m here,” Taelynn said, pulling her husband into her lap. “Ssh, Dmitri. ” She rubbed his back as he shook, feeling the familiar ridges of his scars up and down his spine.

He wrapped his arms around her.

Stories of lost and forgotten things

“I collect them, my dear,” Rav said, lips stretching over teeth in a dragon grin. “Soon it’s only going to be me and Phoenix Killer left. Then where will we be?”

The girl trembled. “You’re talking to me,” she said, voice shaking, “but you’re talking like a cenlan.”

“I am a transformed elf, my dear, the people who your cenlans got their magic from.”

“You aren’t reading my mind now, are you?” she asked him, eyes wide with mistrust.

“I wouldn’t do that!” Rav trumpeted his protest, but quietly. Barely anyone came to see the Protector anymore, but to gawk. It got old. He wouldn’t be surprised if many of the people in Illanen had forgotten he was sentient.  Almost a thousand years… he wished they would just let him die, some days, when he was tired. When he thought of Ria, his Phoenix. “Even the Protector can have standards.” He sighed. “I’m old. I’m twenty-six and at the same time as old as the ages. And I collect stories.”

The girl nodded. “You can have a story of mine,” she told Rav.

“Come closer,” he told her, and laid one of his massive paws on the ground. “Put your hand in mine.”

She hesitated, reaching out twice and pulling back, but eventually she put her hand in his paw.

His world twisted. He was no longer the Protector, who was the Protector? Someone to be feared, forgotten, a reminder of the frailty of life, of stupid mistakes. No, he was Ilani, he was the girl. Her memories and senses flew through his mind. He saw color again. After a minute of being someone else, he withdrew his paw.  “Thank you,” he said softly, “Little duty-bound girl, you’ve given me a gift bigger than you can imagine.”

You look a little bit older, a little bit colder

“There’s nothing we can do for you, lad, but let the injuries heal,” Tari said solemnly, looking over his injuries again.

Dmitri growled.  Most of his torso and one wrist were swathed in bandages and his leg was set in a cast. “Fine. Go protect our Queen, Lady Sirfalas, it’s what you’re hired to do.”

“She ordered me here, young Ellisand,” Tari said dryly, leaning on the wall. “She’s quite interested in you. What you went through, who did it to you, and more importantly, what you learned.”

“I should think the first one’s obvious,” Dmitri said, looking down. “Lost my sight, lost my magic for a good long while, gained a lot of scars.”

“Physical or mental?”

“Both.” Dmitri’s somewhat clouded ice blue eyes were haunted. “I think I killed her. On my way out. She wasn’t moving when I left.”

“Well, then she’s one less problem for Illanen to worry about,” Tari said pragmatically. “It’s good to see you back, Ellisand,” she said with genuine warmth,  then looked toward the door. “But I think there’s someone here who you need to talk to more than me.” The swordsmistress rose from Dmitri’s bedside and left silently.

“Skylor!” A voice cried, “I’m so glad to see you!” Ilani rushed in the room, then stopped short when she saw Dmitri for the first time in two years. “Gods…” she breathed. “You looked as if the Phoenix and Protector themselves took their vengeance on you.”

Dmitri smiled weakly, but that faded quickly. Emotions were painful, especially with a broken nose. “And no  small wonders. They knew I was Shadow, ‘lani. As soon as I’d been caught, they knew somehow.”

Ilani sat down in the chair next to him, purple eyes solemn. “That ain’t good in the best of terms, Skylor.”

He sighed. “I know.”  Moving every part of his body was painful. “What am I going to tell the rest of Illanen? One of two Ellisands left disappears for two years then shows up looking like the Hells in person.”

“You’ll tell them you were with the Keys, of course, boy,” Ilani said, “A trainee on a mission that went wrong. It only makes sense.”

Dmitri’s eyes lit up. “Ilani, you’re brilliant. Then I can tell them I’ve retired, but the Keys will call on me for anything they need publicly announced. Because I’m a high noble, there won’t dare be any backlash. Especially not against one of two Ellisands left.”

Ilani bit her lip.

Dmitri noticed this immediately. “Did something happen to Adem?” he cried, struggling up to his elbows. “Something happened to him.”

“Well,” Ilani said, which in Dmitri’s mind was as good as a yes. “There was another attack. He survived. He’s… in a coma.”

Dmitri tipped his head back, screwing his eyes shut to keep from crying. “Those bastards.”  His expression hardened. “It’s the Briniels, you know. They did all of this.” His eyes were colder than Ilani had ever seen. “I’m going to hunt them down. All of them.”

Ilani looked at his set expression and didn’t dare protest.

If it’s endless love you wish, ask for it aloud

“Searen!” Nessa shrieked, laughing almost too hard to form the words properly. “You’re crazy! An idea like that is not only dangerous, but humiliating.”

“Perfect to plant in someone’s head, then,” he said, eyes sparkling merrily. “You can tell me who I’m thinking of.”

She panted for air. “I could,” she said, grinning.

They shared a mischievous grin.

“Nessa…” Searen said, then stopped and shook his head.  “Never mind.”  He touched his ruined leg with a bit of a bitter smile.

“C’mon, spit it out,” Nessa said, nudging him with her elbow. “Now I’m curious.”

“I’ve never wanted to be with anyone but you,” he blurted, then flushed beet red.  He looked down, and after a second, said in a very small voice. “I meant to do this much more elegantly, I hope you know.” He took a deep breath. “Ness, I’ve loved you since I came back to Pekka, since our visit to Alliden together.” He pulled a necklace off of his neck. Two heartstones dangled on it, and he pulled one off of it. The box with a chain in it was in his pocket. “Will you exchange heartstones with me?”

For once in his life, Searen got to see Nessa speechless. She stood with her mouth open, completely silent, until Searen began to lose hope.

Then she smiled and threw her arms around his neck. “You amazing man,” she whispered, “You amazing man. Any time in the past four years. If you’d asked any time I would have said yes. Of course I’ll exchange heartstones with you.”

Happy tears began to prick Searen’s eyes. “Ness…” he murmured. “I’m so glad.”

be sweet, be false

Dmitri stumbled along behind the woman, hands bound tightly behind his back and silver collar around his throat. “What have I done?” he demanded irritably. “My boat got caught in the storm. Is it my fault I ended up on Sairan lands?”

“No,” she said, turning to face him, “but it is your fault that you’re a spy. “

Dmitri’s breath caught in his throat. “What proof do you have of that?” he asked sharply, watching her carefully.

“Come now, my dear man, you’re the Shadow. Are you really expecting me to tell you how I found out?”

Dmitri swallowed. “If I were the Shadow, I don’t suppose I would.”

She laughed. “Silly Shadow. You’ll learn.” Her bright hazel eyes hardened. “It’s hard to keep secrets from me.”

Dmitri looked down. His amber necklace… That was a dead giveaway he was with the Ellisands.  Only those who had something to hide could afford to wear amber.  He gritted his teeth, and the clasp came undone, falling onto the path. The silver seared his throat.  He would have to come back for it later.

They came to a building, short and unimposing.

“This is where your journey ends,” she told him. “Technically, you’re supposed to have a trial, but they’re such bothersome things. I’ve already got permission to stow you away with me.”

Dmitri’s eyes widened.

“And, of course, you’ll need the tattoo. Can’t have you running away, now can we?”

“These are false allegations,” Dmitri said, rallying one last time. “Are you to wrongfully imprison a man and mark him for life on a suspicion?”

She smiled again and shook her head. Yes, baby, this fire burns too. “It’s not merely a suspicion. Shadow, you’ve been sold out.”

There was a wrenching feeling in the pit of Dmitri’s stomach, and he retched suddenly.

“Don’t worry, little Shadow, in time, the tattoo will be the least of your concerns.” She circled around him, and grabbed his hand, tracing a design on the palm of his right hand. “I think they’re rather pretty.”