“So where do you want us to take you to, my lord?” The hunter broke the silence.

“I still think we should head to the Moon-kissed.” Jasper turned to see that Ihra had snuck up behind him.

“Why’s that?”

A particularly large wave smashed into the bow, a cascade of frigid water washing over them. Spluttering, Ihra shook the water off of her, shivering with cold. “Selene’s grace, this land sucks,” she complained, as she wrung her hair out.

Jasper just shook the water off like a dog, the warmth instantly surging back through his limbs. She scowled at him, her lips already turning blue, as the water ran down her clothes like flashfloods rampaging through dry riverbeds. Grabbing her hand, he pushed some essence into her, the fires burning off the worst of the freezing water in a cloud of steam.

She shivered with relief, smiling up at him. “Thanks.”

“No problem. So, why should we go to the Moon-kissed,” he persisted.

“Well, we don’t know how much pull Nabul has with the Zaphonites, or how close-knit the faction really is, but we have probably ticked them off big time. I mean,” she looked away guiltily, “I think we burnt down a large section of the city.”

Jasper winced. The Ophan's fire and the ancient wooden auction house had been a bad combination. He'd do it again if that's what it took to survive, but he hadn't expected the collateral damage to be quite so extensive. “Fair enough, but why not go straight south? After all, we didn’t exactly leave on good terms with Qarda and Labbu, either.” Though probably - hopefully - they’re both dead, he thought.

“Yeah, but to get to the south we have to travel through Zaphonite territory, unless we cut west into the Moon-kissed lands and head south from there. And, unlike the Zaphonites, we know the Moon-kissed faction is heavily fractured. There are multiple houses that compete with each other and we,” she tapped the lyre Jasper had rescued from the temple, “have something to offer them.”

After a moment's thought, Jasper nodded his head, unable to refute her logic. “Alright,” he conceded, “you’ve convinced me. Let's head to Dūr-Yarha.”

He turned to Bā’er’s son, who watched them with a peculiar expression on his face. “Will you take us that way?”

The man nodded slowly. “I’ll take you to the far side of Hurbas̆u. After that, you’re on your own though. It’s a fairly long trip to Dūr-Yarha.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “But, have you ever been to Dūr-Yarha, my lord?”

Jasper shook his head. “No, this will be the first time.”

A flicker of concern crossed the hunter’s face. “They’re uh... a, uh...strange people. More like elves than like us, really. Just keep an open eye, my lord. Dūr-Yarha is said to be the most beautiful city in the mountains, but it has another name as well, an older name.” His voice trailed off, his muttered words lost beneath the thunder of the wind and waves.

“What was that?” Jasper prodded.

Reluctantly, the man spoke louder. “We call it S̆admūti.” The man’s hands flashed in a quick gesture that reminded Jasper of the sign of the cross. Perhaps some superstitious warding ritual of the villagers, he thought. Although, he immediately corrected himself, maybe it’s not so superstitious. The lake we’re sailing on is literally alive, after all.

Ihra wrinkled her nose, her brow creased in worry. “The mountain of death? Why do you call it that?”

The hunter shook his head, refusing to speak. “I’m sure they’re just stories, my lady. Just be careful.”

As the ship turned towards Dūr-Yarha, the sails billowing with the cold wind that stormed across the icy waters, the chill that invaded Jasper’s soul was not from the weather.

----------------------------------------

It had been a long few months on the road alone. Well, not really alone, I guess. Her eyes drifted over to her trustworthy servant, Nēs̆u. He rode ahead of her, his head slowly panning from side to side as he searched for any sign of danger. But it was still the most alone the princess had ever been before.

A gust of cold wind raked across her face, driving a hail of icy pellets into her cheek, which she wiped away with a grimace. It is so damn cold here. Thoughts of her conservatory back home, filled with lush plants and vibrant birds and the constant rumble of the small waterfall, a world warm and inviting, invaded her mind. For the hundredth time, she wondered again if she had made the right decision.

“No.” She shook her head vigorously, speaking out loud in defiance. She would not give her doubts a voice.

Nēs̆u turned to look at her. “Did you need something, Lady Keturah?”

She blushed. “No, sorry, I was just speaking out loud.” The retainer looked at her knowingly, his horse slowing as he allowed her to catch up with him.

“Thinking of home, my lady?”

“No-" She started to deny it, but then caught herself, seeing the calm certainty in his eyes. “Yes,” she admitted.

“We can always turn back if you like.”

Her heart quickened at the mere idea - to say yes, to turn tail, and to flee back to the welcome warmth of the Sapiyan jungles.

Maybe even to see her father.

“And what waits for me there, Nēs̆u? Tell me truly, who there, besides my father, is happy to see my face? The queen has poisoned everyone against me, and the occasional, fleeting glances of pity are no more welcome than her open scorn.”

Her servant was silent for a long moment, the truth of her statement difficult to deny. “Your younger brother, Apilāni is quite fond of you.”

“My half-brother,” she corrected him, almost automatically. “Besides,” her words were choked with bitterness, “when he is old enough, she will no doubt infect him too with her venom. No, there is nothing in my father's courts for me, except to be shipped off to some noble’s house for an alliance.”

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

She squared her shoulders, setting her face against the wailing winds. “This was the right decision.”

“As you say, my lady.” Whatever his private thoughts, Nēs̆u knew there would be no changing Keturah’s mind. She was like her mother that way, an immovable rock that braved the stormy waters unchanged.

They rode through the night, pursuing their quarry. The pair they were following had passed through Dūr-S̆innu several weeks before them, making it through the narrow pass into the Harei-Miqlat before the worst of the storms had made travel all but impossible. When she finally reached the fortress, the captain had warmly welcomed her, mentioning that another had recently entered the mountains under her mother’s banner. But to her great surprise, rather than heading south towards the capital - and towards the warm, hot central plains - Jasper had turned to the west, towards the frozen shores of Hurbas̆u, on a favor for the captain.

The trip through the icy wastes had been tough; despite her mother's Djinn heritage, she hadn’t inherited even a hint of the fires within, her talents reflecting neither of her parents’ strengths, drawn instead from some long-forgotten ancestor. But she had managed to brave the cold, her spirits bolstered by the hopes of snatching hold of the last thread of connection she had to her mother. Almost by luck, they had stumbled on the village where Jasper and Ihra had stopped after dealing with the bandits. There the village elder had been able to direct them toward their next destination. The market was supposed to be today, so with any luck, she’d be able to catch up to them before they left town.

As they finally reached the top of the great hill their mounts had been struggling up for an hour, her breath was taken away. Their destination, Kār-Kuppû, lay before them. But the night sky glowed an ominous red, the raging light of the flames reflecting off the low-lying clouds. A large portion of the city was burning, and even from here, she could taste the thick, acrid smoke that billowed up to the heavens.

Keturah leaned forward, a pulse of excitement warming her veins. Somehow, she had a feeling that whatever was happening in the city had something to do with her quarry. After all, her mother had called them kakkabū, and what do stars do but burn in the heavens?

“Come, Nēs̆u - quickly!”

They spurred their horses into a gallop, thundering down the slope of the hill towards the port town. When they neared the walls, they could see the gate was closed. A single guard stood atop the tower, his eyes fixed not on the plains below, but within the city.

“Guard! Guard!” Nēs̆u tried futilely to get the guard’s attention, his rumbling voice carried away in the wind. But the guard’s eyes did not turn away from the conflagration.

With a sigh, she reached for her magic. The winds bent beneath her will as she sent a small gust rushing past the guard. She spoke softly, quietly, but her voice echoed in his ears as if she were standing right behind him. “Guard of Kār-Kuppû, I require entry into the city.”

The guard lurched in surprise, suddenly losing his balance as he teetered dangerously over the edge of the walls. His weapon slipped out of his hands, the spear rushing toward the ground. He flailed his arms, struggling to regain his balance, his face a mask of terror as he stared at the ground a hundred feet below. With a flick of her hands, the wind roared again, pushing the guard back onto the safety of the wall. “Open the gate, guard.” She demanded again.

After a moment to collect himself, the man disappeared into the tower, and after another few minutes, the ground begin to shake as the large metal doors slid apart. The movement stopped almost immediately, the gates just far enough apart to allow them entry, and she and Nēs̆u slipped in quickly. As soon as they had passed through, the doors rumble to a close behind them. She waited patiently until the guard appeared.

Despite the cool of the night, the man’s chubby face was dripping with sweat, the front of his trousers suspiciously wet from more than just the flurries of snow. He stumbled over to her, bowing deeply. “My lady, thank you for saving me.”

She brushed his thanks aside, impatient to learn of her quarry. “Tell me, guard, what is happening in the city? Is there war between the houses?”

The man shook his head. “In truth, my lady, I don’t know. The fire started at the auction and wild rumors have been spreading ever since.”

She waited for him to continue, but he just looked at her expectantly. “And?”

The guard shifted on his feet. “I’m not sure I should really discuss city business with you, my lady.” His gaze drifted towards her bag, and she caught his meaning. Rolling her eyes, Keturah rooted through her purse, her fingers numb and aching. Finding what she was looking for, she flipped a gold coin at the guard.

He bowed again. “Thank you, my lady. The city appreciates your donation. I’m sure my captain won’t mind me sharing with a friend of the city.”

She sighed wearily. “Just tell me what’s happening.”

“Of course, of course.” He hesitated. “This is just rumors, my lady, but they say that there was a precious artifact at the market today. Lord Nabul, the patron of our city, bought it as a gift for the Moon-kissed, to establish an alliance with House Sebetta.”

“What does that have to do with the fire?”

“The artifact was my stolen, my lady. Supposedly a powerful mage from the south crashed the auction, summoning a monster of fire and death, and in the chaos escaped from the city with the artifact.”

She frowned, something about the story not sitting right with her. She doubted that her mother’s friends were violent thieves. Violent? Yes, but thieves? That didn’t sound like her mother.

“Is that really what happened, guard?” Her voice was cold as she questioned him.

His eyes again slid to her purse. Grinding her teeth in frustration, she tossed another coin in his direction, which he deftly snatched out of the air without taking his eyes off of her.

The guard glanced over his shoulder warily, and even though he saw no sign of others, he still lowered his voice as he leaned closer to the two of them.

“There is another version of the story. Some say the artifact actually belonged to the southern lord. They say that he came to the city, accompanied by an elven princess, on a mission of peace to the Moon-kissed.”

His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Lord Nabul conspired with a rival Moon-kissed house to steal the artifact and take the elf for himself. But they underestimated their foe - the southern lord was far more powerful than expected. He summoned a fell guardian and escaped with the princess through the harbor while the city burned.” The guard stood back up, straightening his shoulders. “Obviously, those are just rumors though,” he said, winking.

Elven princess? She couldn’t fathom how the two could have come across an elven princess. Maybe this isn’t my pair, after all. “Tell me, guard, are there any names for these criminals?” This time she didn’t wait for him to beg, flicking another coin in his direction.

“Yes, my lady. Lady Ihra and Lord Jasper.” Then again, maybe they are my pair.

He leaned closer again. “If you ask me, my lady, he must be a bastard of the royal house. They’re the only ones outside of the Moon-kissed who consort with elves.” The guard shuddered, licking his lips nervously, as he once again scanned the empty shadows. “If the Zaphonites and Moon-kissed really made a move against the royal house, well, it’s a grim day indeed for the North. Far more than this city will burn. It's been a long time since the factions have gone to war, my lady. May the Bright Lord save us from that fate.”

He nodded at the two of them. “I won't bar your entrance into the city, my lady, but I would strongly advise you to leave. The nobles of the city are not going to welcome you with open arms right now. It's better to spend a cold night outside the walls than spend a warm night inside a cell.”

Reluctantly, Keturah followed the guard’s advice. The gate rumbled open again, and the pair slipped out into the darkness, swiftly blending into the shadows. As she rode beside the frozen shores of Hurbas̆u, her eyes searched the empty waves. It was folly, of course - the waters preserved no sign of passage, deftly hiding every trace of its travelers. With a sigh, she pulled her horse to a stop. Her eyes trailed up to the heavens, her gaze fixed on the moon. Guide me, Selene, she prayed. Show me the path I must walk.

And the goddess heard.