The clamor of angry voices echoed through the thatched roof of the chieftain’s meeting hall. Malik and his father sat together with the four Faltari clan chieftains, at the end of a long table crafted for three times their number.

After the attack, all attention had first been focused on the safety of their people, and ensuring that the last of the foreigners left the island swiftly and peacefully. The injured were tended to, the fires at the edge of the village were extinguished. Then, witnesses were gathered and questioned, some by one chieftain, some before the entire tribunal.

During the inquisition process, Malik relayed the details of his and Riese’s planned uhmskara, and the fallout of that decision.

The bonding, the Thenius girl’s murder, the attack of the shapeshifters and the runeship, the abduction of Riese and the eggs. All of it.

Joren had insisted he hold nothing back, and Malik had complied as best he could.

The Faltari elders already understood the true meaning behind the Ascent ritual, so it was not a matter of the truth that worried them, but how to explain the attack and the company of Attican soldiers that had been stationed on the island in its aftermath.

“What do I tell my clansmen?” demanded Tul Eriksein, father of Aran Tulsein, and chieftain of the Dragyr clan.

All the elders looked from one another to Joren, barely sparing a glance at Malik during the proceedings, except during his questioning.

Joren sat back in his carved socha chair and motioned for the Dragyr elder to continue.

“They want to know the reason for this attack,” Tul went on. “Why a flying ship and winged shapeshifters from the Abyss broke the peace of a hundred festivals.”

“Several of the Sabers are calling for closing the borders,” said Brom Dannsein, Petyr’s father.

“A lot of good that would do if these rebels come back on a bloody flying ship!” said Lysa Anadeil of the Jackal clan, Malik’s own mother’s clan. His clan, until Derrin fell.

Lysa was the eldest chieftain in the room, the only one accompanied by a successor, a middle-aged woman with red hair, who supported her by the arm each time she stood to speak. Like Malik, the Saber successor only listened, learning the ways of the tribunal under crisis.

“I’m not saying it’s an actual bloody solution,” Brom said. “But it certainly is from my kin’s perspective.”

“I don’t think the empire would allow it anyway,” Joren said.

“Perhaps it’s worth the declaration. Close our borders to all but the empire just to make a show of action while we figure out the real solution.”

“There is only one solution,” said Olma Marudeil of the Feathered Serpent clan. “There has only ever been one solution. My clan’s elders have known this for many years. Need I remind you that we rejected this entire charade from the beginning?”

Tul Eriksein rolled his eyes. “Serpents always have to inject their self-righteousness into every—”

“We never should have got in bed with the Atticans,” Olma continued, ignoring the jibe.

“This is pointless talk,” said Lysa. “What’s done was done centuries ago.”

“It is never too late to correct a grievous error,” Olma said. “We should have destroyed the World Gate when our people first made the Crossing. We should have destroyed it when the Attican emperor unraveled our secret two centuries ago. And we should still do it now. It is, and always will be, a curse!”

Silence fell over the room. All eyes settled on Joren. Malik’s father had said little during the deliberation. Angry as Malik remained about the secrets his father had harbored all his youth, he understood the wisdom of his father’s tactics now.

The first part of prudent speech is silence, his father had taught him.

“Whether an act of our ancestors was right or wrong is not the point.” Joren enunciated each word slowly, deliberately. “This is the reality we inherited, nonetheless. Your ancestors made their choice, and we must make ours in the world we are in right now. A world in which secrets have been kept, for the good of our people.

“However we may feel, our peace and livelihood has long depended on imperial protection But now, it is not just our fate that rests on our decisions. Indeed, the livelihood of all Erithèa may very well depend on it. The gravity of this matter for the rest of the world must not be lost either.”

“Why should we care?” Tul demanded.

Joren leveled a fierce gaze on the man. “These eggs have bought us peace at the edge of the world, but they have also brought stability. Across Attica and all Erithèa. A balanced distribution of power.”

Olma shook her head. “After everything that happened—when you were a boy, and this now—and still, you sound just like your father, Joren. It’s a bloody shame.”

Malik watched his father carefully, wishing he knew what the chieftain spoke of. There was so much about his father that he didn’t know.

His uncle’s death. His father’s uhmskara. How his father had learned to fight better than an Attican soldier.

“I’ve seen what the empire does, Olma,” Joren said, suppressing a surge of bitterness in his spirit. “But I have also seen much of the rest of the world too.”

“And no one else has learned anything, is that it, Joren?”

Joren glanced away.

“What happens in the empire and beyond is not our concern,” Tul said.

“We are Faltari,” said Olma. “Our task was not to hide. May the world be brighter for our burning. Our ancestors lost sight of that calling, and now, we reap the consequences.”

“Now, you wish to argue over the ancient texts? What do you think the empire will do to this island, Olma? If were to do what you say? To destroy the Gate would be an act of rebellion. Assuming we even could.”

“You know we could!”

No one else dared speak.

“So you admit it, then?” Olma demanded. “This life we lead—all of it truly is a lie. We are just as beholden to the empire as any other nation in this world. All this talk of freedom and independence, our gifts from the gods. It’s all talk.”

Joren shook his head. “After everything that’s happened, Olma, you’re the one who pretends the world to be as simple as your dreams.”

Olma smirked. “My mother taught me to let my voice be heard, and I reckon I’ve done so. Whatever may come, the time for secrets is over.”

The woman met the gaze of each person in the room, most glanced away, saying nothing. When her eyes met Malik’s, they seemed to cut straight through to his spirit. Her blue eyes were like stars in winter sky.

Blazing the same way as his spirit at her words.

There came a knock outside the door, and for the first time, Malik realized that the clans had quietened outside the meeting hall.

Joren crossed the room, and Malik tensed as he saw Aram Tulsein whisper something, then leave.

Joren returned to the table. “Lord Consul Campos has fallen. Now, his successor wishes to address the tribunal. We will adjourn for dinner and return to make our final decision.”

***

“Look, I know you can’t say anything,” said Yuri, between bites of a hastily prepared porridge. “But gods, it just makes no sense. Why would they take Riese, of all people?”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“I don’t bloody know,” said Malik. Yuri’s betrothed had remained close to her parents after the attack, and every time Malik wasn’t being questioned or sitting in on tribunal meetings, Yuri leapt at the chance to jabber to someone.

“But you were there! When she was taken.”

“I told you, we were trying to save Campos. We followed that traitor girl, Ava, into the woods, and found the Consul in a pool of blood.”

“And now, he’s dead,” said Yuri. “God’s breath. That girl with the cane. I didn’t see that one coming, I’ll tell you that.”

Malik just shook his head, wishing his friend would take a damn hint. His heart was sick with worry for Riese. But Olma’s words haunted him too.

So many secrets...

The Faltari gathered in the field outside the village, where people from all over the world had been peacefully celebrating another successful festival only two days ago.

There were few smiles now, and no music to be heard. Children huddled close to their parents. Joren was off visiting the wounded, and calming fears, and Malik’s mother was performing a similar role for scared mothers and their children.

Malik probably should have been doing the same, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. So, he’d taken his dinner with his sister, who largely ignored him and chatted with a couple of her childish friends about boys from the other clans.

But Surel kept glancing over and smirked at Malik as Yuri went on and on. She never took anything serious enough, even an attack on their damn village.

Normally, Yuri was the same way, but Riese’s abduction seemed to have truly shaken him. And Malik couldn’t blame him. He wished he could talk to Yuri about what he knew. He wished he could talk to anyone.

In one night, all the lies about the Ascent had shattered, and no one outside that council knew. And Malik was dying inside.

“And what I wanna know is how the damn Elyans fit into all this?” Yuri was saying.

“What do you know about the Elyans?” Surel asked, winking at Malik as she left her friends’ conversation and egged Yuri on.

“What does anyone know about them?” Yuri asked, glad for the attention. “They come from across the eastern seas! Even the Atticans hardly know anything about them. Except it’s a land of free magic. Shit, maybe it’s not that different from here?”

“Well, listen to you!” Aram Tulsein plopped down beside Yuri. “You talk to one drunk trader, and you think you understand the world, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah?” said Yuri. “And what do you know?”

Aram huffed. “Seeing as I’m fit to succeed my father as Dragyr chieftain one day, I’d guess a fair bit more than you. Just like I know why they actually flew off with your friend.”

Malik glared at Aram. “Leave Riese out of this.”

“What?” said Aram. “I just thought your friend deserves to know that you’re lying to his face.”

“I’m honoring the will of the council.”

“I’m not talking about the council, I’m talking about you.”

“What he’s talking about? Yuri asked.

“Yuri, just ignore—”

“Malik didn’t follow the Consul into the woods,” Aram said. “He went there with Campos. And that cripple girl. Supposedly, they were going to go on uhmskara. Oh, wait, you didn’t know that?”

“What?” Yuri asked, pain written across his face. “You were… leaving?”

“Yuri, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. It all happened so quick.”

Aram Tulsein stood. “Not even smart enough to lie. You’re pathetic, shaman. You know what I think? I think there’s plenty more you’re not saying. Even in that council. My father thinks you’re a damn liar and a traitor. Maybe even the reason all this—”

“Go to the fucking Abyss, Tulsein!” Malik shouted.

A little girl gasped nearby, and her mother shot Malik a harsh look.

Surel and her friends were grinning, wide eyed.

Yuri stood back, glowering.

But Malik didn’t care. He stood, glaring across the table at Aram, fists balled tight.

“Easy there, shaman.” A hand clasped his shoulder from behind.

Malik spun to find Ulgar Fenrisen. He shrugged the boy’s hand away, but Ulgar held tight.

“Ignore Tulsein,” Ulgar said. “He’s just jealous you’re sitting on that council to begin with. He’s been bitching and moaning about it all day.”

“For god’s sake,” said Aram. “The shaman saves your life, and now you’re his bloody dog?”

“Least I en’t delusional about my standing,” said Ulgar with a shrug. “You’re second born. You’ll never sit on that council.”

Aram rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Lie all you want, shaman. But the Dragyrs see right through it.” With that, he sauntered away.

Yuri got up from his seat.

“Wait!” said Malik.

“You gonna tell me what’s really going on with Riese?”

“Yuri, you know the council is confidential.”

“Well, then, I guess we don’t have anything to talk about, seeing as you didn’t even trust me enough to tell me you were gonna leave the damn island.”

“Yuri, come on, I didn’t—”

But the boy stormed off.

His sister raised a brow. “Well, that was smooth.”

“Enough, Surel!”

“What’s going on over here?” their mother demanded, marching over from a conversation with some of the Jackal mothers.

It was only then that Malik realized just how many people had taken notice of the altercation at his table. Dozens of his people were watching him from nearby tables. Their new shaman shouting and cursing.

“Nothing is going on,” said Malik, grabbing up his still-full bowl of porridge.

His mother brushed his shoulder gently. “Son, stay and eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Maybe it’s from all that foot in your mouth,” said Surel.

“God’s breath!” Malik muttered and hurried away, weaving between tables and around cookfires as fast as he could, brushing off questions from some of the other kinsmen gathered.

He spotted his father watching him from the other end of the field. But Malik hurried on. He needed to be alone. To think.

He nearly made it out of the gathering, when Riese’s father, Ulrik, emerged from a tent near the village gates.

“Malik!” Ulrik motioned him over, a worried look etching deep crevices across his weathered face.

Malik cursed to himself, but joined the man. Fear and lack of sleep made him look like he’d just emerged from a days-long hunt.

“Is it true?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“That you and Riese were with the Atticans when the Consul was attacked.”

Gods damn you, Aram.

Malik merely nodded his admission.

“What was she doing?”

Malik didn’t know what to say. Of course, he couldn’t speak of the eggs—that the man’s daughter was Dragonbound. That all the Ascent was a bloody lie.

But he couldn’t just run off, could he? Malik had gotten Riese into this whole mess, and his father had been like an uncle to him all his childhood.

“Please, shaman,” he whispered. “I… I’m trying to piece this together, but it just doesn’t make sense. She was with us the whole evening. Riese seemed so happy, and then you came by, and she ran off to meet the Atticans… Why?”

The man clutched his forearm. Malik clasped the man’s shoulder.

Ulrik deserved the entire truth, but Malik had to give him something. “We were seeking passage away from the island, sir. We were going to go on a Wandering.”

The man’s face twisted in a pained grimace. “Leave? But why? Riese was just matched. She seemed so happy.”

Malik sense the deeper turmoil in his spirit that no words could convey. Fear of losing his daughter. Fear of failing her. Driving her away. Despair over what he might have done differently.

But it was Malik who had acted wrongly. He’d gotten his best friend caught up in a bloody rebellion.

“It was my idea. I convinced her to go.”

Ulrik covered his mouth and shook his head, pain emanating from his spirit. His words were muffled. “I just don’t—”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t say more right now. But your daughter loves you very much. I know that for damn sure. She’ll find a way back, I know she will. Riese is the toughest person I’ve ever known.”

Filled with rage and regret, Malik slipped past the grieving man and entered the village, weaving down the narrow lanes between longhouses. He paused near the outer wall, a sob catching in his throat.

Every time he thought of Riese, he felt sick. Was she a hostage? Something else? The Attican girl, they’d had no problem killing. Why did they take Riese?

Not only that, but they’d tried to take Ruan Pelasius as well. Whose mother was the new Attican Consul.

Riese’s father was right about that much. None of this made sense.

The autumn dusk fell quickly on the village, and Malik knew he didn’t have much time before the council reconvened. He hurried until he reached the temple.

Still carrying his bowl of uneaten porridge, he ascended the steps and entered the main hall. The room was lit with candles and smelled of a woody incense. A handful of villagers burned prayer cloths before the statues of the All Mother and All Father.

Malik hurried into the narrow hall beyond. Rooms for private rituals and divinations. Rooms filled with old scriptures from the Crossing, prayer scrolls, and rune transcriptions into the Common Tongue.

Were the gods even real either? Or was that just one more secret his father had kept all these years?

Despite all Malik’s unrest about his role as shaman, the temples in each of the clan villages had always felt like home. Now, he felt like an earth tremor was bringing down the entire village on top of his head. Debris pressing in on him, choking the breath from his lungs.

He nearly jumped when a figure emerged from the darkness at the other end of the hall, but was quickly relieved to find it was just Ulgar.

The Serpent boy offered Malik a querulous brow, glancing at the door to the inner sanctum.

Malik glanced back down the hall. They were alone.

Swiftly, he pressed his palm to the wood, whispered the words of entry, and opened the runemarked door, ushering Ulgar to follow.

The room was quiet within, lit only by a single runemarked lantern.

“You’re sure no one followed you?” Malik asked.

Ulgar nodded. “Don’t think I arouse much suspicion in my own village.”

That was why Malik had sought his help in the first place, and because he’d saved his life during the attack, and because he had a sense about him ever since the storm on the Spires.

Ulgar was a good man. Someone he could trust. Much like Riese.

Gods, I wish she was here.

A soft muffled sound emitted from the desk across the room. The inner hall always emanated with hish from all the runework that ensured the room was secure from listening ears, but that sense was even stronger now.

Malik and Ulgar crossed the room. A lone chair was set in the corner between shelves of sacred documents.

Ulgar checked the bindings fixed to the chair.

“You learn anything this morning?” he asked.

“That’s why we’re here,” Malik said. “I need a second opinion before I decide what to do.”

“And… I’m the obvious choice to help you… not the high shaman of our people?”

Malik grimaced. “I wish it were that simple. But no, I can’t tell my father. Not yet.”

Ulgar pulled back the hood, and Malik untied the strip of cloth from Ava Rykus’s mouth.

Malik felt the pulse of hish as Ava pressed his mind with silent questions, assurances, and attempted manipulations.

But Malik was more than strong enough to protect himself against her.

Ava was not as untrained as she’d seemed during the festival, but she was not powerful. Like a child who could swim, but she was no pearl diver.

“Enough,” Malik said, warding away her magic with a pulse of hish. “No magic. No bullshit. Tell Ulgar exactly what you told me this morning.”