Breaking Stars (Book 2) (14 page)

“Are you finished with him? Because you robbed me of a pleasant evening.”

He was not sure how he felt about her. She was striking, as were all the Arconians, but she had a certain quality of danger he found appealing. As easily as he would make her his, he knew her loyalty lay with the Mage, and he could not fathom why.
‘Why would the shell of a broken man be more appealing than power and titles like I bear? What does the Mage possess that I do not? Who would not want to be on the arm of the Prince of Anatoly?’

“I welcomed you to my room. It could have been quite pleasant for you.”

“I could never take another lover after this man,” she said and pointed her hand at the Mage. “All else would seem inadequate.”

‘That explains her loyalty.’
Nolen grimaced and made a displeased sound in his throat as he turned away. Kindle followed after offering a whisper of sympathy or apology. He trotted down the stairs to the foyer and found his way to the dark salon his father called home, but the man was not yet up. He flagged a servant down the hall and asked for breakfast along with something warm to drink, then found a plush seat near the cold fire. A quick snap of his fingers and a channeling of the Mage’s Fire Element blazed the hearth. Fire was a powerful Element, raging and dangerous, and so close to feeling like it would slip loose and destroy him.

All the Mage’s Elements felt that way though. Each was so strong, he felt like he would topple over and never rise again, but when he slipped off the control piece, he felt lost and saddened. Sometimes, when he was very lonely, he felt bad for the Mage he destroyed, but he reminded himself it was the only choice.

The Mage was already on the outs from what Nolen could feel. When he first put on the control piece, he felt such energy and power and anger, but now the energy was so dismal and subdued, and not just because he was broken. His well was running dry, and Nolen was very careful to use his Elements only when necessary. With luck, the Mage would make it out of the Silex retrieval alive and given a proper grave, but if he died during, Nolen would leave him.

Kindle entered with a mug of hot water sweetened with honey and took a seat.

“You have gotten thinner,” Nolen said. “Are you well?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Was I ever, dear brother?”

No, she never had been. Ulcers and cysts had plagued her for years, and it seemed time had not healed her. “I would heal you if I knew how.”

“You would do a lot of things if you knew how, brother, and none of them pleasant I think.” She sipped her drink. “What makes you so power-hungry?”

‘What indeed?’
“I can do better than mother.” He replied and folded his arms. “No man could sit the Eagle Throne, so I knew I would have to do something wonderful to obtain it, all the while searching for you. It just happened that in order to find you, I needed power, and as a result, I need you to obtain the throne.”

She sat looking at him for a while, her back straight and her features pinched. “Here are my demands. I want Brackenrock Castle, staffed and furnished. Once you take the throne, you will form a council and I want a seat on it. The backlash from Jaden will be strong, so I want you to give me Mage Gabriel for my protection, and you will talk with Mage Ryker about setting a security pattern around my new home. Father will be freed, but I do not want him near Brackenrock. You will also not interfere if I choose a suitor, and I will make no claim to the throne that
should
be mine—you are lucky I never wanted it. Mother will also be given clemency and will take up one of our estates. In turn, I will give you the location of the Silex. Do we have an accord?”

Nolen smiled. It seemed years with father had taught her manipulation skills. “Is there anything else?”

She thought for a moment. “You will put no one else in a Castrofax, and you will see no harm comes to me.”

“No one would put you in a Castrofax.”

“People will do a lot to someone of power, brother, and someone is bound to notice the throne was passed over me for you. I need not remind you only Queens have ever ruled.”

“And it is about time for a change. I think your requests are reasonable. I will see each of them fulfilled. Mage Ryker will be most pleased with you. He is a powerful ally to have.” He paused as a servant brought in a hot mug of spiced wine

She took a moment and stared into the fire. “Give me the control piece. I want to feel Class Ten power.”

Reluctantly, he slipped it off his fingers and handed it over, watching as she slid it on. Her hands tightened and her face turned red and rapturous as she fought with the power he had so often. At such a weak Class Two, he wondered if she would be able to handle it, but she relaxed in her chair. Her eyes closed with a small smile on her thin lips.

“It is so sweet,” she finally said. “Smooth as butter and strong as…I cannot put it to words.” Without pause, she slipped it off and handed it back. If she held it longer, she would never let it go. He, however, slipped the copper piece over his fingers of his left hand and felt the familiar influx of power shoot into his veins. It was fainter than it used to be but such a rush of raw energy.

“Are you familiar with the stories of Roshenin City?” she asked.

“Is not everyone?”

Roshenin City was once the beautiful capital of a long passed kingdom. A dazzling example of architecture and art back in the First Age, it was centuries ahead of itself in modernization. It had plumbing, arched windows and doors without lintels, giant buildings that seemed to pierce the blue sky, transportation that ran on a lost form of science, and a system of government that was both absolute and democratic.

While beautiful and prosperous, it was the commerce and trade of slaves that made Roshenin wealthy, for it was decreed that no other city could sell or trade slaves. In that Age, slavery was as modern as wine with dinner. Both Mage and non-Mage were bought and sold.

Haply, one of the representatives of the center-city was a lovely and immensely powerful Class Ten Earth Mage, a woman by the name of Barbrielly. In fact, Nolen recalled, she was the woman that all Earth Mages compared themselves to when it came to Elemental strength and ranks. As far as Mages knew, there was never a stronger Earth Mage.

Legends said she was in love with a married man name Tollen. While their love was forbidden, they met in secret for years, or months—the stories varied. As comes with all sins, Barbrielly and her love were discovered, and their transgressions made public. As punishment Tollen was reportedly sold into slavery, and Barbrielly was ordered to never see him again. But as a butterfly is drawn to a flower, so was she drawn to him. It took her days to track him down, and when she did, she discovered he had not been sold, but condemned to die. She walked in on him being quartered.

Barbrielly, it was said, broke any self-control that held back her power that day. The buildings made of stone and wood stretched and curved, snapping, pointed jagged fingers at the skies; the roads melted under her feet, and the canals turned to red-hot lava. It was as if a great object had struck the City, for it buckled and wavered like the ripples of a droplet in water. In a moment every glass window shattered, every door buckled, every column bent. Sides of buildings and roofs expanded like bubbles, some bursting entirely. Caverns opened in the streets, jugs and jars exploded, and buildings stretched and froze in morbid nightmarish shapes.

Stories said every soul in the City turned to stone in a moment, and it was popular in the Second Age to have a human statue in the homes of the rich. Barbrielly herself was part of them. Her final figure knelt down holding the severed frame of a man who had been put back together. Earth Mages said it was impossible to turn oneself to stone, just like Spirit Mages could not heal themselves, but Barbrielly did.

“No one goes there. It is a haunted place.”

“That is what makes it such a good hiding place,” Kindle replied. “You will find the Silex there.”

“Truly. Where though? It is a massive City.”

“A palace.”

“Stories say there were dozens of palaces.”

She nodded. “There is one on the far southern part of the City that sits on a hill. The Silex is within, and underneath.”

“You will travel with me then?”

“I have never been. I have no wish to go.”

“You must come. If anyone were to discover you were the one who told me, you would be in danger. You must be within sight of my Mage so I may protect you. I want to leave within the hour.”

“Mage Gabriel needs time to rest,” she interjected. “You cannot leave him in such a state all eve and expect him to perform in the morning.”

“You would be surprised what he is capable of,” Nolen replied and stood to leave. “Why did you tell me?”

She held his gaze with their father’s trademark eyes. “As much as you crave your power, I crave my freedom.”

Chapter 13

Mikelle had to be strong for Gabriel. She could not rely on him to protect her in her weakness. She steeled her back and waited for the weakness to pass. It took its time. The solid night’s rest she expected was fraught with worry for Gabriel. She had even stolen out to see if she could aid him somehow, but he wanted nothing. Now a long day awaited them, and she could not give the rest he craved. Instead, she dipped her hands in water, heated the moisture, and held it to his arms, but he opened a window, grabbed two handfuls of snow, and put them on his shoulders.

Even an hour later, his hands shook, and he stared at the ground with a listless expression that Mikelle could not pinpoint. The Prince seemed to be in a grand mood and so left him alone until he ordered them to pack up after a hot breakfast.

“You don’t think Kindle told him, do you?” she whispered, seated in the saddle as her weakness waned its way out. Gabriel sat to her left and gave a small nod. He looked so miserable even in the ivory coat trimmed in green circular patterns. His shoulders were still hot, so his black Mage cloak hung open and unhooded, his hands covered in black gloves. Mikelle snuggled back in her coat, her head wrapped with a lavender scarf and pinned with her Mage brooch.

Prince Nolen looked as much a prick as Mikelle could imagine, dressed in a dark red coat that fell to his knees and a scarf of vair wrapped around his neck to imitate the nobles’ portraits in Kilkiny. He had an unusually haughty look on his square face at this hour, and as he spoke with his father, his loud laughter seemed all the more annoying. Tabor dressed more modestly in a long coat made of undyed sheepskin, boasting a matching hat and gloves to help him blend into the white landscape. The little Princess Kindle joined them, bundled in fox furs that seemed to dwarf her small frame.

“Join up!” Nolen shouted to the little party. Five servants accompanied them, and they sat on their own ponies wrapped in furs. The Prince marched Shibaler over to Gabriel drew the Elements to lay a sidestep pattern. With Tabor being a Class Six Air Mage, they could easily move wherever they wished now.

“I thought there were wards around this improperly-named Fort,” Mikelle stated loudly. “Your father cannot leave.”

Nolen pinched his lips, irritated that he had to explain as he turned in his saddle. “Repeat that to me when we sidestep out of here.”

“Your father cannot leave,” Mikelle repeated, her glare set.

Nolen ground his teeth. “He cannot step out of the boundary around this place, but sidestepping is quite another thing. It can branch a warded and unwarded location together, and as the place we are traveling to is unwarded, he will be able to leave.”

“I think not.”

Tabor chuckled as he swung into his saddle. “I like her.”

“Do you know how to get to Roshenin?” Kindle asked her brother as she came up and put a hand on Mikelle’s horse.

“Roshenin?” Mikelle asked alarmed, and Gabriel perked his head up a touch. “No one goes there.”

“We are. You are free to stay here,” Nolen smiled. “I know it is on the Northern coast,”

“If you have been to Port Nassa, it is fifty miles north.” Tabor stated, joining up as the servants gathered.

“I can lead,” Nolen replied as Tabor formed his part of the pattern, and together the men fueled it.

The white background molded into a pale yellow landscape. Mikelle had never gotten used to sidestepping, and it unnerved her to think her body transported between spaces. If anything went wrong, she could be torn in two or worse. She flicked her eyes to Gabriel as the dreadful thought occurred to her, and she watched his face to see if he could handle the energy drain. He looked so weak, and he closed his eyes, causing her heart to catch in her throat.
‘Stars forbid, if he died mid-step we would all surely perish.’
She tightened her hand on his forearm.

The yellow landscape sharpened its blurry form as they alighted on hard stone, far from the touch of snow. The air was still bitterly cold, and a wind blew from the east, but Mikelle recognized the salty flavor in the air and knew they were not far from the coast. Arconia was out there somewhere, though much further south where mid-winter was the only time a hearth was lit to cut the chill.

This landscape was bleached by the sun and sparse of greenery. Nolen had placed them on a road surrounded by tall jagged hills of striped stone worn down by wind and rain.

Tabor looked around. “I can put us a little closer. There is a small fishing village northwards if I recall correctly.” The Air Mage wove the patterns again and stepped north by Tabor’s leading; this time closer to the ocean but still surrounded by similar rock formations. “Ride north with the coast.”

They turned their horses to the blue sky ahead and kicked them into trots with Tabor in the lead. The sun illuminated the blanched rocks with rays only morning could bring. Mikelle did not enjoy early mornings, preferring the dark evenings, and the stars they brought. She smothered a yawn at the thought of it.

They rode for the better part of two hours before Kindle pointed ahead to a set of spires peeking over a hill. Roshenin came up on them quickly, spotting the hillside with broken-down farm homes that quickly gave way to buildings and paved roads.

It was everything Mikelle expected it to be. Even in Arconia they knew the story of Barbrielly and Tollen. The City was massive and spread out over a bay, rising and falling with the dip of the sea. The stories were true; every building was warped, melted, or twisted. Some even cut in half horizontally and shifted into the building next to it. A few were severed diagonally and upended. The roads had bubbled and melted, seeping into gaping doorways. At corners the bubbles had burst and left jagged half-formed domes on the walls. Each window had broken glass, and some of it looked freshly blown in long bubbles as though a great wind had burst in. Those stood whole over the Ages. Tabor tossed a rock at one, but it did not shatter.

The horses’ hooves were the only sound in the City, but for the wind that whistled like voices. They continued further in and saw twirling staircases unraveled skyward, buildings across alleys falling against each other, and spires once straight bent at right-angles in morbid fashion.

Kindle pointed ahead to something and spoke quietly with Nolen. Gabriel’s eyes for once were not on the ground, but flitting everywhere in calculating fashion. She even saw him move his wrist and fingers as if mimicking a pattern that could attempt what he saw.

“Do you think we will see her?” Mikelle whispered. There was no reason to speak quietly, but it seemed only right.

“Who?”

“Barbrielly and Tollen.”

“No, they are in Castle Jaden,” Gabriel replied.

“They are never. Stories say—”

“They were moved when Jaden was founded. There is a shrine to them back in the necropolis that has a plaque stating something about stepping on stars—I don’t remember.” He looked out over the ocean through the buildings. “I’ve never seen the sea before. I don’t know why people keep comparing it to my eyes.”

“The sea changes, pet. It reflects the sky and ocean floor,” Mikelle explained, though as far as she knew, nothing in nature had produced the color of his eyes. Not azure or cobalt or…she could not think of a name for them. Like the ocean, his eyes reflected his mood.

“Do you know how to turn someone to stone?” Nolen suddenly asked loudly.

Gabriel put his eyes down. “No. That pattern was struck from the records after this tragedy.”

“Shame, I should like to see it.”

They glimpsed the first human statue; a woman in a window who had turned to look behind her. Her image was so lifelike and haunting that Mikelle’s hair on her arms and neck stood up. “Do you think she knew?”

Kindle was the one to reply. “She has no fear in her face.”

“Is that the southernmost palace?” Nolen asked and pointed to a grand structure with four massive towers, each twisted and one split down the middle and peeled like a banana. “It sits on a hill.”

Kindle turned around. “It must be.”

Nolen looked at Gabriel. “Are you prepared?”

Gabriel did not reply. He inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth in a fashion most unlike him. She wondered what was going through his head.

“I’m not going to make it out of here,” he said quietly.

She pinched her lips. “What nonsense is this?”

“The Castrofax. It is draining me of my energy. I’m a well now, and when Nolen uses the last of my energy, I will not be able to exist, and I will perish.” He gave her no time to question or think a rebuttal. “Tell my parents I am sorry it came to this. Tell them I fought as long as I could.”

Her mouth worked silently. She had not expected this by any means. She grew fond of him and had intended on staying in Anatoly to continue serving him—protecting him; she was not a servant. “And have you nothing to say for me to cling to once you’re gone?”

He gave her the smallest of smiles that said not to pity him. “I have valued your loyalty and thank you for it.”

She was not satisfied. “What if you make it out? What then?”

He arched his eyebrows as if in pain. “Then the world will know I was the man who freed the Silex.”

“You can still make this right, Gabriel. You do not have to do what he tells you.”

“My lady, I have no choice.”

“What is keeping you so rooted?”

He gave no response, but the pained look he gave her said volumes. It was something she never forgot.

The palace was not like Kilkiny or Shshonan, but was rather a massive home, larger than a manor but as grand as any. It boasted strange architecture, but Mikelle could not tell if it was Barbrielly’s work or the actual construction that made it unusual. The strangest part was the door. It was the only building she had seen with an intact door, a large wooden piece that would buckle inward if pushed. Most of the stairs to it were smashed.

“When was the Silex hidden?” Mikelle asked.

“Arch Mage Ryker was in possession of it during the battle of Kinsdale upon Warwic. The histories say he and Pike Bronwen were forced to hibernate after they lost the Silex. It was hidden shortly after,” Kindle replied.

Mikelle frowned. “I am not familiar with that battle.”

“It was the battle that gave Ryker a reputation. It happened just before the Third Age.”

Gabriel dismounted and left his cloak over the saddle. He moved to help Mikelle, but she unseated herself without his help, not wishing to hurt his shoulders. She left her bulky coat behind, wrapping herself up in her shawl. She had picked a dark purple dress with split skirts, and a wide belt of brown leather to match her boots. As far as she was concerned, she was the best dressed female among them. Though Nolen was a close second.

“Come along,” Nolen commanded and mounted the stairs. It was a long trek up sixty or more steps, but the worst of the damage had been done to the bottom, so when they reached the top, they were greeted with a pleasantly undamaged landing that overlooked the City. It was a vast place, and ended so suddenly by the hands of a single woman. Some people called Barbrielly an Anomaly, others said she was a freak creation, but others said she was Earth herself, the embodiment of the Element.

The doors of the palace stood before them, flanked by two large statues of carved warthogs. One split in two, and the other blurred as if caught in a windstorm. The Prince stopped his forward motion to view the structure.

“Father, would you do us the honors?” Nolen asked and motioned to the door.

Tabor gave a proud nod and laid an Air pattern. Putting his hands up, he forced a great gust of wind forward, and the doors buckled with a crash and screech that echoed through the whole City.

Robyn lacked the energy to pace, but she did so regardless, so the maids would not catch her. She had been given her old rooms in Kilkiny Palace down the hall from the Queen’s apartments; a lavish bed chamber with a sitting room and a drawing room. It had been kept just the way she left it.

She had been appointed maids to tend to her needs, but it had been two years since she had one, and she found in their absence that she had gotten along rather well. She could dress herself; do her hair; and lace her own boots. She stopped suddenly at the thought and put a hand on her stomach. Once, she had been able to do those things. The missing hand hid under the flap of the red cloak Secondhand Lael had given her. But she was only hiding it from herself. The maids and servants already knew, and if they still gossiped the way they used to, the whole palace knew by now.

They had already dressed her in battle garb, a tight-fitting corset of exposed tan boning against brown leather. It flared to low red skirts, divided down the middle, and cinched at her knees. They swapped out the old boots Gabriel made for her and found sturdy brown leather instead. A creamy shirt with flowing sleeves and high buttoned neck sat under the corset, and over that Lael’s cloak. The maids had done up her golden hair in five swirling buns that all joined together in a sturdy fashion. It gave her a noble look. She looked like a Princess, but on this day, the day of her twentieth birth anniversary, she felt like a Queen. It was only a matter of time before Miranda stepped down, and Robyn was given her proper birthright.