Malik’s mind was a stormcloud of emotions, but he could not let himself dwell long on it. His path was laid before him.
He watched the dark-haired Attican girl approach from the thick cover of trees and foliage, fumbling through the uneven ground, leading with her cane, grimacing only when she half-stumbled over a rock or root in the darkness. Her mind was steady, focused, controlled. He’d sensed that the moment he saw her, and it impressed him how well she held herself despite the constant pain she suppressed.
Ava Rykus was on a mission. Malik could give her something that would help her fulfill her task, and she could do the same for him and Riese.
When Ava reached him, she paused and studied him briefly, the warmth of hish brushed past him.
“Why my ship?” she asked curiously. “You could go with any trader, I expect.”
“I think you know why.”
“The cargo?” Ava asked.
“My cargo.”
Riese emerged from behind a boulder and walked toward them. There was a fire in her eyes that seemed to have grown even brighter since Malik told her the truth. Her dragon egg survived, and she had the potential to bond. There was so much uncertainty. So many questions. But the knowledge that she was dragonbound had brought a clarity and focus Malik had never seen in his friend. More than on the hunt. More than on the Ascent. She walked with purpose and determination, finally understanding why she’d felt so trapped.
Ava took a step back as Riese approached, raising her cane from the ground, holding it almost like a blade.
Riese raised her hands non-threateningly as she neared, but she eyed the Attican girl carefully. “There’s no one else out here. I scouted close. Malik says you can help us.”
“With your cargo?” Ava asked, lowering the cane again. “I don’t have any say about that. But I may be able to get you onboard our vessel. You have an… attachment to our goods, do you?”
“I’ve just Ascended,” said Riese. “And mine is one of the few that survived.”
“And you’re…”
“Bonded?” Ava’s eyes lit up at this.
“I don’t fully know,” Riese said.
Ava could sense the longing. “Does it happen often? A Faltari bond?”
Malik shook his head. “Rare. I think the blood does not run much in our veins.”
“It is hereditary,” Ava said pensively. “You would have to become an Attican citizen. Adoption would be the only way. It would take a great noble.”
“Like Campos?” Malik asked.
“Perhaps.”
“Is it possible?” Riese asked. There was a pained desperation in her voice. Malik had only seen it shown the moment she released her egg, but her spirit had suffered much at the loss.
“Perhaps,” Ava said again. “Campos rejected your initial request to stow away on our ship, though.”
“Campos wants control over the riders chosen, right?” Malik asked. “That’s why you’re here.”
“And you want me to give up my chance for you?”
“There’s three eggs,” said Malik. “Enough for you and your friend.”
“Ruan?” Ava asked.
“You want to fight for Attica?” Ava asked, turning to Riese.
“I… I don’t know.”
“Well, all mounts fight for Attica, now, don’t they? So, you’d certainly better dig down and find out what it is you want.”
“All I know is that I’ve been dying for something all my life, and I didn’t know what. When I touched that egg, something… shifted. I don’t know how to explain it. I felt lost after I thought I destroyed it. And now… look, I don’t know if I can be a mount, or could ever convince Campos or anyone else, but all I know is I have to try.”
Malik watched Ava closely as she listened to Riese bear her soul. There was a hitch in her spirit. Something subtle, but unmistakable. Something about Riese’s experience that was shared.
“Well, I may be willing to help,” Ava said. “But first, the exchange.”
Malik nodded and stepped toward her. “You have skill with magic, but it’s unfocused.”
“What do you mean?”
“You treat hish—er, the Other—like it is something threatening. Like it’s a flame that can only be held at arm’s length.”
“That’s a good metaphor,” Ava said. “We’re raised with this teaching.”
“Our words shape our world,” Malik said, echoing his own teaching. “They determine what is possible. If you believe magic is a threatening force that could destroy you, you will approach it only a certain way. Yes, it is powerful. Yes, it could destroy you. But only if you don’t know how to handle it. You can pass your hand straight through a flame, if you do it with precision and speed. The breath of the gods is little different.”
Ava focused for a moment, and Malik sensed the pulse of hish.
“But it is something outside us, isn’t it? Even the Elyans believe that, I’m told. Clearly, it’s stronger in some places than others. I’ve felt that since we arrived.”
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Malik nodded, recalling his own father’s teaching, trying not to think of his anger and remorse.
“It is out there,” Malik said, gesturing up at the sky, only barely visible through the pine branches. “And it is also here.” He pressed his hand against the right side of his chest, the opposite side of the heart, where Faltari believed the spirit resides. “There are traces everywhere, like vapor in the air. We draw it in and out like the air we breathe, into our own spirit.”
“We are the channel,” Ava realized suddenly.
“With practice, some can be,” Malik said. “You’ve been trying to hold a torch when you have the ability to breathe fire.”
Riese rolled her eyes, but Ava marveled once again at his words.
“You can sense the power around you, yes?” Malik asked, stepping closer.
Ava straightened up, supporting herself on her cane. She closed her eyes like Faltari children did before they learned to see the forces of both physical and spiritual worlds with the same eyes. For they were not separate as these southern barbarians believed. All reality was intertwined.
Malik focused his own sight, eyes open, and saw the currents threading through the world, emanating from the ground, shifting on the breeze, swirling amongst the skies, pulsing in his own spirit as he opened up his sight to the breath of the gods.
Threads of magic circulated near Ava, drawing close, though most slipped past her. She was unpracticed, but when she opened her eyes, they flashed with wonder.
“I feel like I’ve been breathing underwater through a reed all my life, and I’ve just come up and taken my first full breath.”
“That’s not a bad metaphor yourself,” Malik said. “But you’re still very far from a full breath. Even my father, the most powerful on the island, must take care not to draw too much hish into his spirit.”
“Incredible.” Ava sighed, eyes still closed, drawing more in.
“We have practices and rituals for honing this skill,” Malik said. “Learning to hold hish for later use. Perhaps I can show you more on your ship.”
“We’d have to be careful,” Ava said. “There’s a Knight of Caadron aboard. I haven’t dared use magic around her. But here, all you Faltari are using it, so her senses are surely muddied.”
“We are children of the gods,” Malik said. “Blessed with the gift of their breath.”
“Alright,” said Riese, butting back in. “Now, it’s your turn, Lady Attica. How are we getting on your ship?”
***
Urla Pelasius stuck close to Campos, slowly sipping a flagon of Attican wine as the evening waned. But her eyes followed Ruan carefully, especially when he was near Ava Rykus. Urla was relieved when the girl ventured off, though she could not say exactly what it was about Ava that unnerved her.
“She’s using you to get close to Campos,” Urla had told her son.
“Are we not using Campos the same way? Does that mean you’re not his friend?”
“Don’t be foolish. He was your grandfather’s best friend.”
But her son’s words lingered in her mind.
It was true. She’d taken a liking to Campos as a young girl, when her father still lived and ruled House Vestra, and she was not yet a Pelasius. When Campos had been a powerful ally, and she had recognized the value in endearing herself to him.
Campos was without wife or child, and rather an outcast in the capital, as she was an outcast amongst most Attican ladies. Ava was clearly an outcast as well. And Ruan…
While high-blood Attican, he had long lacked the most valued Fjuriin traits—charisma and cunning. She could see how much he’d grown during her time at war, not just in body, but in will. He was more Fjuriin than ever before. He stood his ground. Walked tall. Though he remained quiet and pensive, for the most part.
Most of the Faltari chieftains and traders had reached the point in their festivities where talk of the world and politics and rumors had dwindled to bawdy tales. It would turn serious again soon enough, she knew.
Campos sipped from the same flagon of wine he’d taken early in the night, kept his satchel close, his servant Baro standing watch over it and several other goods they’d brought ashore.
It was clever, she thought, to hide the most valuable possession in the world right here in the open.
“If you want them to believe you’ve nothing to hide, hide nothing,” Campos had said when she protested the risk of such a brazen act. But most traders carried their own satchels of possessions, all of which had been thoroughly searched upon their arrival. What could anyone suspect?
Ruan sauntered over, laughing with the other girl from the academy, a girl named Iriana Thenius, high-blood like Ruan. Dark-haired, bronze-skinned, and brown-eyed like a proper Attican girl. High-cheeks and strong jaw. Slender and agile and strong.
She giggled at a whispered joke, taking a long swig of wine as they neared. She was the sort of girl Ruan would have been sheepish to speak with two years ago.
“What do you think, Consul General?” Iriana asked, turning to Campos and flashing a pursed-lipped smile. “Are we entering an age of peace or war?”
Urla sighed. It was turning serious again.
“What do you say?” Campos asked, smiling enduringly.
“There’s always a lull between campaigns,” Iriana said. “How long will this lull last?”
“You’re not wrong. Even the Sigan conquest was not planned. It was a retaliation over disputed land. Our wise Emperor simply made the best use of the moment.”
“Exactly!” said Iriana, grinning over at Ruan. “In two decades, we’ve retaken Taika, Ytan, Valucia, Kirithia, and now, Siga. Surely, we must take time to reveal in it.”
Campos raised a brow. Urla glanced around, but their present company had dwindled to members of their own party. The din was loud enough, it was doubtful any passersby heard her. Still, it left Urla on edge. It would not do to disturb the harmony of this festival.
Campos shrugged and kept his voice low. “What are your thoughts, young Pelasius?”
Ruan straightened. “It’s the same thing every Attican is speculating. With Siga, we’ve retaken all the old lands most commonly regarded as true Attica. The Good Emperor Vitruvian ended his reign with an Age of Prosperity. Will his protege choose the same?”
“Clearly, Lady Thenius believes this to be the case.”
“Or at least a longer stretch of peace,” said Iriana, nudging Ruan playfully in the shoulder. “Our victory is fresh and in everyone’s minds. The Valgs are no threat. And the Chardonians are surely pissing their pants now. I’ve seen how they look at us when they think we’re not watching at this bloody festival. Attica is properly feared again. No one would dare an uprising now.”
“But you don’t think so, Ruan?” Campos asked.
Ruan paused a moment, weighing his words, or at least pretending to, in true Fjuriin fashion. “I believe Iriana is right that we are feared. And right that our neighbors would be fools to wage war with Attica so fresh off a victory. But I do not believe our Dragon Emperor would settle for peace.”
“Why is that?” Campos smiled.
“The continent remains divided. All Atticans long in their hearts for another true Golden Age. I think we are on the verge of another Age of Fire. And the next move will be sudden and swift. The first real act of conquest is coming very soon.”
Urla watched the fire in her son’s eyes. How he longed to be a hero in such an age. As all soldiers did. To fight for honor and glory and lift their great nation to heights not known in centuries.
And the Dragonmounts, most of all.
Campos smiled and patted both youths on the shoulders. “You two have had much drink. You want an answer, and that, I do not have. But I expect there is truth in both your words. Prosperity or conquest? That is the great question of history, and the answers are always intertwined. There can be no peace without conquest, but reach too far, and you risk unraveling all that has been won, and the peace and prosperity of victory is lost. History is full of many lessons of such overreach. But the present path forward is unclear and the answer not ours to determine. We may only choose how we hold ourselves, in times of peace or war. The Fjuriin Path, no?”
Both youths shook their heads and smiled in reverence.
“Very wise, Consul,” Iriana said, her hand resting on Ruan’s shoulder briefly. Ruan glanced around subconsciously, and Urla knew he was searching for Ava Rykus.
Perhaps he’s playing her as well, Urla realized with bemusement.
But Ava was still nowhere to be seen.
“Well, my friends,” said Campos. “I believe it is time for this old sage to retire for the evening. Festivals are wasted on old men like me. Enjoy yourselves. But be sure to return to the ship at first light. Good night.”