Queen of Fire

“Rather them than the big water.” Alturk threw a blanket across his horse’s back and settled the saddlebags over it. The Tahlessa moved with a noticeable limp these days, alleviated slightly by the salve Brother Kehlan had provided to anoint his wound, the only gift he would accept from the Merim Her. “And we have him to speak for us.” Alturk jerked his head at Lekran, bidding farewell to Frentis a few strides away.

The former Kuritai had caused something of a stir when presented to the queen the day before, failing to bow and instead making a formal declaration of love and proposal of marriage. She had listened patiently to his lengthy list of victories, his apologies for not providing the heads as proof, and confident assurance that, should she agree to the union, he would happily kill the requisite number of enemies in less than five years, his life being forfeit should he fail.

“Only a thousand?” she had asked, breaking the tense silence that followed. “Make it three and I’ll deign to consider it. In the interim you can have a captaincy in my guard and I’ll make you ambassador to your people. Go back to the mountains and tell them the slaving days are over and we’ll pay a fair price for whatever metals they care to sell us.”

“You truly intend to brave the ice once more?” Vaelin asked Alturk.

“The shaman says it’s easier in summer months. And it will make a fine story.” He tightened a strap on the horse’s bridle and paused. “She was a good woman,” he said. “I will be proud to tell her story and have it placed in the Mahlessa’s library. For she was Lonak, and we should not forget our kind, whatever names they choose.”

Vaelin stood back as the Tahlessa climbed onto his horse, hefting his war club. “Thank you.”

Alturk looked down at him, eyes arch beneath his heavy brows. “One day . . .” he began.

“The Lonak will sweep the Merim Her into the sea,” Vaelin finished. “I know.”

“No.” Alturk shook his head. “One day the Lonak will fade, scattered and slaughtered in war or our blood mixed with the Merim Her until our stories are forgotten. It will be so with the Seordah, the Eorhil, the ice people and the mountain folk. I see it now. The Mahlessa has been trying to shield us from our fate, we have become like stones clinging to a mountainside. But the mountains always shake, and the stones always fall.”

Vaelin watched him ride away, the Sentar closing in alongside as they took the Northern Road.

“Come with us.” He turned to find Wise Bear sitting astride Iron Claw, bone-staff in hand. “This place is bad, full of stink and heat, and too far from the green fire.”

“I’ll see you at the Mirror Sound before long,” Vaelin told him but Wise Bear just smiled, clicking something in his unfathomable tongue as Iron Claw lumbered towards the road.

Mishara came to nuzzle at his hand as Kiral stood close by and Astorek waited amidst his wolves. She offered no embrace, nor even a smile, her scar rendered near invisible in the bright sunlight. Davoka stood nearby, head lowered and arms folded. Their farewell had been lengthy and not without rancour.

“My song is varied when I look at you,” Kiral said eventually. “I hear so many different notes now, as if it doesn’t know what path you will take. Some are bright, some dark. It was not so when we first met.”

Mishara gave a final lick to his hand and bounded off in Iron Claw’s tracks, the bear issuing an irritated growl as she nipped playfully at his rump. “When I see you again I hope it will be clearer,” Vaelin told Kiral, glancing at Astorek, who gave a cheery wave, his wolves breaking into an instant chorus of howls. “I am glad your song guided you to happiness.”

“It will be good to hunt again,” she said, pausing to offer a final glance to Davoka before climbing onto her horse. He watched as the dust of their passing faded on the Northern Road, though the wolves could still be heard long after.

• • •

“I promised I would return,” Frentis said, hefting his pack. “Even though it was a promise made to a man now dead. And Aspect Arlyn has directed me to establish a joint mission house with the Fifth Order.”

Still they cling to it, Vaelin thought, following Frentis along the wharf. Despite all the knowledge gained, the Faith remains and seeks to grow.

“Besides,” Frentis continued. “I feel the queen would be more comfortable with me gone.”

Vaelin could find no argument to this point; the queen remained icy in his brother’s presence and he knew she recalled his final words to the Empress all too well. However, as the principal architect of what was fast becoming known as the Great Liberation, Frentis’s status among the freed population had increased to near-mythic proportions. Everywhere, former slaves would pause to bow to him, some running to his side with fervent thanks and offerings. Nor were all his admirers slaves; many free citizens had witnessed him fighting to save them from the Arisai.