The Weavelings’ ships splashed into the water, dropping down from drydocks and nets. They were transport ships, nearly two-hundred paces long. Lifeboats, landing craft, and tenders filled their decks, and empty davits hung off the sides like a spider’s legs.
Their torches and lanterns formed golden halos in the rain and fog, and the windows of their glass-enclosed command bridges shone with orange light.
Sails unfurled, and the fleet streamed northeast, sloshing over the waves and smashing down with a crash.
Pirin stared at them all from above, looking down through the Featherflight’s windows. Hundreds of seaborne ships followed the airship, bouncing up and down on the waves. He wasn’t foolish enough to think they’d all follow him. There were probably some who would stay behind, and some who’d run once they reached land. But he hoped he’d keep at least half of them on his side.
The weavelings didn’t know where to go. It was up to them to lead.
The sky lightened, and the rain stopped pelting the airship so hard. In a matter of minutes, they burst out of the stormwall and into the open oceans beyond.
It had been impossible to tell in the storm, but outside, it was evening. The sun was setting, and the moons were rising above the horizon, and Pirin breathed a sigh of relief.
They just had to get home.
“Alyus,” Pirin said. “Set a course for Sirdia. We’re going home.”
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Pirin sat on the cot beside Alyus, wiping his forehead with a wet cloth and monitoring his breathing carefully. He’d cleaned and bandaged all the man’s wounds, and if nothing went awry, he’d survive.
The racoon-cat curled up on Nomad’s chest, purring and nuzzling his former wizard, but their Reyad was gone.
When Pirin scanned the man’s spirit, he found nothing but empty channels. Nomad’s core had disintegrated—not even an Embercore remained—and all the Essence had left his body. He was as good as a mortal. He’d still have his knowledge, and he’d know how to advance. He could still teach Pirin, but no one could fight the Unbound Lords now.
No one except him and Myraden.
Myraden waited silently, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the crew quarters’ floor. Of course, Pirin had tended to her scrapes too, but she hadn’t taken any life-threatening damage.
“I don’t feel like a healer anymore,” Pirin muttered. Odd. He’d just healed two people.
“You repair more than bodies,” Myraden said. “The king must repair his land. That is your duty.”
He nodded slowly, then said, “What will you do? We have two Unbound Lords to deal with, and…I won’t be able to match them alone.”
“I am still thinking,” she replied.
“I could use a second Wildflame to help out,” he replied.
“I would need…someone to lead me to an advancement,” she said. “The path to Wildflame takes revelations about the self and the world. Nomad is good, but he is not…not the teacher for me.”
“Who…who is?” Pirin tilted his head with intrigue.
“I had a different teacher, many months ago.” She shut her eyes. “If he is willing to train me, I need to return to him. I need to stay on the Mainland a little longer.”
“We’re parting ways?” Pirin asked. “I thought…” A pang of regret tugged at his heart, but this was necessary. “I’m sure the Weavelings can spare a boat to drop you off.”
“Only for a short while. Not long. A month, maybe two. When you return to Sirdia, it will be late summer. I will return to you by the end of autumn at the latest. And when I return to you, we will never be apart again.”
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Over the next few weeks, Nomad recovered his physical strength. Gray didn’t. The twigs and leaves in her feathers still glowed, and her soul remained in turmoil. She denied it, but Pirin couldn’t deny the results of the Whisper Hitch.
“Can you hear me, Gray?” he asked one night, sitting alone in the crew quarters while the Featherflight descended toward a weaveling transport ship. She was still in the cargo hold, and he sat twenty, thirty paces away from her, separated by gasbags and walls of fabric.
Loud and clear! You could be louder, though—the voice of a king should be strong and powerful, and should never back down! If your subjects aren’t trembling when they hear it, then you’re not doing it right!
If the circumstances had been different, Pirin would’ve laughed. He would’ve known she was joking. But he couldn’t. She had been saying things like that all this while, and he knew it wasn’t a joke.
“I promise, Gray. We’ll fix…whatever this is,” he whispered.
Nothing needs fixing! This is the model of perfection! I am strong!
“Alright,” he muttered. “Myraden’s leaving, now, and I want to send her off. Stay safe, alright?”
Gray said nothing more. Pirin rose to his feet and slunk down to the gondola, where the others waited. The Featherflight hovered above the deck of a weaveling transport. Myraden had already jumped down, and she and Kythen sat in a rowboat. It hung over the ocean, suspended on the ship’s davits. She had all her supplies in her void pendant, but they were close to the coast. A dark shadow of the Mainland formed a ridge on the horizon—even darker than the rest of the twilight gloom.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Their fleet could go no closer, but it gave Myraden the best shot she’d get.
Pirin jumped down out the gondola door and landed in a crouch on the deck. A few weaveling sailors bowed their heads to him, but most continued their work without a care. Pirin nodded back to them, then approached Myraden’s rowboat. It swayed in the wind, rocking as the ship rocked, and she spread her legs to keep her balance.
Pirin controlled the wind to hold the boat steady as he stepped across from the transport ship’s main deck and into the tiny rowboat. Then he took off his mask and faced Myraden. “Good luck,” he said. “Come back safe, alright?”
“I will,” she said. She stepped over the bench, drawing within arms’ reach. A few seconds later, she grabbed his shoulders. “I will stay alive. If for nothing else, then for you. But I am slightly more worried about you.”
Pirin lowered his head. “I’ll be as safe as I can.” He glanced around at the transport ship, then back at the glimmering lights of the fleet. “I’ve got them, now.” He offered a faint smile.
Myraden pulled him closer and hugged him. “Promise me you won’t hurt your memories again.”
“I promise. No matter what, I won’t forget you. I love you, Myraden, truly.”
She shut her eyes and sighed. “I do too.”
After a few seconds, she released him and stepped back. “Now…I will meet you back at home.”
“See you around.” Pirin dipped his head, then jumped off the rowboat. Myraden kicked one of the davits, and the rowboat dropped down to the water with a splash. She picked up the oars and began to haul the boat to shore.
Pirin turned away. A weaveling with an orange pauldron stood near the bow of the ship, watching over the waves. The ones with coloured pauldrons were the officers—low-marshals or captains.
In this case, it was a captain.
“We sail straight for Sirdia,” Pirin said. “Full sail. We need to make the best time we can.”
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Four weeks after Pirin had stolen her army, Lady Neria and her Unbound Lords made it back to Rasis Nureans-Ost. It was more than enough time for the Two and Three to accumulate their Essences again—and to prepare for battle.
A day later, she visited the Emperor.
She marched into his hall at noon, her Unbound Lords marching behind her. The Imperial Guards fanned out to meet her, but a new figure stood behind the Emperor’s throne—and slightly to the side.
A man in a simple brown cloak. It hit his face, but his eyes glowed yellow, and lioness paced behind him. Lord Four, the last Unbound Lord. Neria had no illusions of turning him. He had always been staunchly loyal to the Emperor.
But she had two Unbound against one.
“Emperor Tarren Har,” Neria said. “I warned you, and you didn’t listen.”
“I did everything you asked,” he said. “I placed more armies and wizards in Aerdia. While the Autumn Elves muster their forces, and we combine our armies, our wizards prepare for war. And still, you deem it honourable to threaten me again?”
Lady Neria kept walking, and her Unbound kept pace. “Yes. If you thought I lived on honour, you were sorely mistaken. If you thought I did any of this for anyone but myself? Then you were also mistaken. I will be Empress of a united North.”
The Emperor scowled, then pointed. “Kill her.”
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When the Red Hand had heard of a battle in the Emperor’s Hall, he had rushed to the Imperial Palace immediately.
The guards at the gate tried to stop him—“It’s not safe,” and, “You need to leave—but he had recovered most of his strength. He cut down the three Flares with ease, then sprinted through the empty halls. None of the lower-stage guards remained. Either they had run, or they’d already died.
He reached the doorway to the imperial hall in a half minute, and instinctively, he set a foot inside, ready to charge to the Emperor’s aid. Sparks of purple, green, and yellow Essence floated in the air, and scorchmarks stained the floor. The scent of soot and blood settled in the back of the Red Hand’s mouth. Cracks lined the far wall, and a tattered banner nearly fell upon the Hand’s head.
Three figures approached the throne, and the lone Emperor who sat upon it. The Imperial Guards lay scattered across the floor, dead or wounded. A brown-robed body laid at the Emperor’s feet in a pool of its own blood. A limp leopard rested beside the body.
Lord Four was dead.
After a single step, the Red Hand stopped himself and slunk back into the shadows. The Emperor was not his problem anymore. He didn’t have to help. There was no reason to. He owed the Emperor nothing.
The Emperor had made it that way.
He couldn’t hear what Lady Neria said, but he was sure it was some kind of gloating rant. Then she drove a dagger through the Emperor’s throat. As Emperor Tarren Har gurgled and grasped at his neck, she pushed his body off the throne.
With a callous smirk, she dropped herself down on the seat and folded her legs atop one another.
There was a new Empress, now.
Shaking his head, the Red Hand turned away. A complete sense of hollowness overwhelmed him. For the first time in his life, he had nothing to do. Nothing more. Nothing next. He had no reason to wake up.
Time to settle down and retire?
But that wasn’t right. He hadn’t been released from his duties, and there wasn’t peace. He shouldn’t have been confused, and yet here he was.
Khara would return, and he could keep training her. That would help.
Before he knew it, his legs had carried him out of the imperial palace and into the streets of Rasis Nureans-Ost. He dipped through alleys, keeping his head low and his hood drawn over his eyes.
He wasn’t expecting a spear to block his way.
It was halfway through a dark alley, and there was no one else around. Only a shred of light leaked in from the outside city, but it made the wound-up silk shaft of the spear glimmer. He’d recognize that spear anywhere.
“Leursyn,” he said softly.
“Khara is dead,” she said, stepping into the light. Runebond tattoos shone gold all across her skin, and her antlers were now made of red crystal. “I am your last student, and I need you to complete my training.”
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Chancellor Ivescent arrived at the west coast of Sirdia in the evening of a late summer day—at the request of a troop of messengers. They all bore the same message: a massive fleet of transport ships was approaching. They had been spotted sailing up the coast. At first, he feared an Aerdian invasion, and the main Sirdian armies were already rallying to meet the new threat.
No amount of messengers could have prepared him for what he saw.
He rode his horse along a ridge, keeping watch over the crashing waves and gravel beaches. A squadron of elven guards trotted behind him, bearing spears and banners.
Rowboats sloshed ashore. Each one of them had twenty fabric-made men inside them, all carrying spears and shields.
A black-haired elf sat at the prow of the lead rowboat, pulling an oar in time with the strange fabric men, and a grey gnatsnapper circled in the sky overhead.
Pirin had returned.
To be concluded…
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Hey everyone! This is the end of Volume 3. I'll have new chapters for Volume 4 up as soon as I can! (Probably around a week from now.)
If you'd like, I have a discord for my stories. I'll add a link down at post-chapter notes. Thanks for reading everyone!