Green Wild (Thrones of the Firstborn Book 2) (2 page)

Shanasee walked. But Shanasee’s stumbling blind walk wasn’t fast enough. They had to run. The disaster of Blood fighting Blood required running. But only dim memories of an unfinished map guided Jerya. She knew they walked toward the river now, where the tunnel had to end.

Shanasee’s steps slowed until at last even a firm, insistent pull couldn’t move her. Slowly, almost gracefully, she knelt down and curled up. Her clammy hand became as cold and heavy as a rock, but her forehead burned to Jerya’s touch. When Jerya pulled away from Shanasee, the sick woman didn’t notice or complain.

“This is bad, isn’t it, Shan? Come on, Shan. Stay with me.” She didn’t know what to do for Shanasee, except to find somebody who had more experience. She needed Cara, Shanasee’s Regent. She needed Yithiere. She needed blankets, light, a warm bed for Shan. She needed
help
and she needed to get out of here.

With a rush that left her dizzy, birds exploded out of her, some darting down the corridor ahead of her, some of them pressing their way through the ceiling in that way only they could. One of them stayed beside Shanasee, so she wasn’t entirely alone.

Her head still spinning, Jerya started running after her scout birds. She moved so much faster when not dragging Shanasee, even in the dark. She turned toward the river at the next intersection, turned toward the river again, and stopped. The scent of fresh air wafted from the other turning. It was the wrong way, but there the scent was as vivid as the rising sun. She hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she turned back to the path with the fresh scent. Somewhere in the distance behind her, she heard keening.

The tunnel with the fresh air zigged and zagged back and forth. Something squelched under her feet and the tunnel turned to reveal an ashen rainfall beyond corroded iron bars. Black mud sucked at her feet, and slid tendrils into the slime-covered stone circle that led from the tunnels under the city to the riverside. She could just see the Green Street Bridge, which told her the location: a small park she’d visited before. She’d noticed the old stone circle with the iron bars previously. She’d always thought it led into a sewer before, and wondered why anybody would bother to barricade a sewer. But now she knew.

The bars were far too close together for her to squeeze through. She rattled them, and then shattered all but one of her emanations and eidolons, pulling all the power she could spare back into her core again. Setting her jaw, she gripped the bars with both her hands and her magic, and twisted.

The effort exhausted her. It was far harder than sending small birds flying all over the city, or illuminating a dark room, or even supporting Shanasee through dark places. But if she couldn’t break the bars, she’d be giving up, and Jerya could barely comprehend the concept of giving up. The bars would bend and break before she would.

The bars bent, and one bar broke. It was enough. She squeezed through, scraping herself on the broken bar. She heard the rumble of a crowd over the noise of the river. Beyond the tunnel overhang she saw the rest of the bridge. An unruly collection of city folk gathered, facing a single man with spectral lightning dancing between his fingers.

Jerya had been worried and anxious before but actually seeing her uncle Yithiere on the verge of attacking their own people jolted terror down her spine. She leapt forward, heedless of the blood dripping down her arm, and shouted, “Uncle! I need you!”

Yithiere whipped around. Her father’s younger brother was a tall, lean man with untrimmed hair and badly in need of a shave. He looked her over, and then turned back to the crowd. “Jerya. I’ll be with you as soon as I convince these people where their best interests are.”

“Uncle,” Jerya said again, making a voice a lash. “Yithiere. I need you now. Attend to me.”

Slowly he turned to her again, his cold gaze becoming questioning. “Jer?”

“I will convince our people,” she told him, as calmly as she could. “You must go into the tunnel below us and fetch Shanasee. You must do this
now
, because she has spent all her strength saving these people and now she is sick.” She made sure her voice carried as she spoke.

“Jer...” Yithiere said, and he made sure his voice didn’t. “They are dangerous.”

“So are we all, uncle,” she told him. “Where are Iriss and Gisen?” He’d taken responsibility for moving her own comatose Regent and her youngest cousin to safety.

He bowed his head. “Safe,” was all he said. He walked past her, off the bridge. She looked after him for a moment, wondering. If her uncle said somebody was safe, they were either safe, or they were dead.

Then the mob drew her attention. No, not a mob. Just a crowd of unhappy people, driven from their homes by a nightmare. A man held a sobbing woman close. Another woman in a ragged dress clutched three children. Two young people her sister’s age clung to each other. She stared at them for a long moment. They stared back. Then, as their voices rose with their pleas and demands, she wiped the rain from her face and started the task of calming them.

T
HE ROYAL BLOOD
didn’t like to admit it, but the mountain of Sel Sevanth and its Citadel of the Sky was its own political entity, a nation within a nation. The little red flower the Citadel processed into the catalyst for magic grew nowhere else. Whoever controlled the mountain controlled the magic of the Logos.

But the Logos couldn’t touch the Royal Blood’s native magic. They used it to control the approach to the mountain. No army could take the Citadel of the Sky while the Blood held Lor Seleni at its base.

Of course, the clever found other ways of getting into the Citadel, thought Lady Lisette, Royal Regent. Sitting alone at a table in the communal dining room within the Citadel itself, she sliced a pear and drizzled honey over cheese. She kept an eye on the ‘pilgrims’ from the neighboring country of Vassay as they ate their dinner, too. They understood the alliance between the Citadel and Ceria’s Royal Blood. And they understood alliances could be changed. They were as dangerous in their own way as the dragon that had attacked the Citadel in the pre-dawn after the holiday Antecession, when so much had changed.

Lisette, noble-blooded, served the Regency. As a Regent, she stood between the madness and power of the Blood, and their own people. She knew how dangerous the Royal Blood could be. She’d studied them, past and present, for the last ten years, after all. She respected the Regency. The system had worked for hundreds of years. And she loved Tiana as her best friend.

But apparently not everybody in the Regency thought the system worked, Lisette thought darkly. The ‘pilgrims’ acted like an embassy, without shame or secrecy. Lisette couldn’t be sure, but she suspected they’d come at the secret invitation of the King’s Regent, before he’d died, weeks ago.

Their leader smiled at her, as if she shared their goals. She gave him her most practiced smile back, and tilted her head as if she wanted to speak with him. She did want to speak with him, very much, so she could discover whatever he thought she knew.

He stood, and then looked over her shoulder, affected an overly casual stretch and sat back down again. A moment later Tiana sat down beside Lisette with a thump.

She put Jinriki, the great sword she carried carelessly in one hand, on the table between them, took a pear of her own and bit directly into it. Her hair needed combing and her simple woolen dress skewed lower on one shoulder than another. Lisette reached over the sword and tugged one side of the dress up.

“Oh, thank you,” said Tiana, and looked around the dining hall. Her gaze passed right over the Vassay group, as if they didn’t matter to her at all. Then she inspected the table again: fruit, cheese, pastries. “This is dinner?”

Lisette smiled, for real this time. “This is dinner. Nobody has time to cook right now, Tiana. There are wounded people, and structural instabilities, and Jinriki destroyed dozens of Logos workings on the walls and mountain.”

“Well, yes,” said Tiana, looking discomfited. “But this is more like... dessert. Where did all the cakes come from? And, look, a bowl of reception cookies.” She grabbed one and cracked it open, but no little scroll fell out.

“It’s the day after Antecession, too,” Lisette pointed out. “Sweets are traditional.”

“Oh,” said Tiana. “Yes. Was that only yesterday?” Her gaze went far away and Lisette knew the sword spoke to her. She ignored the blade between them with practiced grace, but she couldn’t forget about it.

Jinriki the Darkener, it—he—called himself, and she had extremely mixed feelings about the fiendish blade. He hurt those he disliked, he dominated the weak, he fought back violently against being held by anyone he didn’t choose, he broke things, he threw power around wildly and he had nothing resembling ethics. But he was very much like a person, bound by limitations and shaped by loss she could barely imagine. Once, briefly, she’d seen those limitations intimately.

Tiana’s attention snapped back to Lisette. “Anyhow, where’s Kiar and Cathay? We need to plan.”

Lisette didn’t rush to answer, taking her time to slice a fondant covered cakelet into quarters. “They’ve been helping with the recovery effort. Everybody’s coming by to eat though, so I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

A guilty expression flashed across Tiana’s face. “Should I have stayed awake to help, too? I was so tired.”

Calmly, Lisette asked, “Do you feel like you have something to prove?” When Tiana hesitated in answering, she added, “
I
don’t feel bad for resting. Your sword is an exhausting burden to carry, even only for a short while.” Her body still ached from what Jinriki had put her through when he’d borrowed her body to speak to Tiana.

Tiana frowned. “It isn’t like that for me.” She glanced down at the sword and added, “Oh. He says it’s because he doesn’t fit you like he fits me. Because of what that monk did when he passed him on to me, I suppose.”

“Just so,” agreed Lisette, despite how
disturbing
that sounded. It took training not to shiver. Instead she ate one of the cake quarters and gave Tiana one of the other ones, while she studied the sword.

Wicked fangs jutted out near the guard of the long, jagged blade. Those fangs moved when somebody took unwelcome liberties handling the sword. They could bite. But the sword also invaded minds. Twice now, Jinriki had opened Lisette’s mind like a cupboard door. The first time, it had been attacking her—punishing her for interfering with Tiana’s attempt to go fight a monster alone. The second time, it begged for her help so it—he—could talk to Tiana despite the disintegration of their magical bond. Lisette had shared the thing’s black despair and felt sorry for him, even wanted Tiana to save him. That momentary sympathy was all the sword needed to steal her body and throw her into an icy-cold pool.

“Ooh, dessert,” said Prince Cathay, as he stopped beside the table with Tiana’s other cousin. “Just what we need, Kiar.”

“Lovely,” said Lady Kiar, a tall young woman with the dark cinnamon skin of the of the Blood but the pale hair of a commoner. It spiked around her angular face in short tufts. As she slumped down into a chair, the stink of her sweat wafted over. Lisette made a note to at least make sure Kiar took a bath later, even if she couldn’t make her rest.

Cathay sat down more gracefully, smiling tiredly at Lisette and Tiana. He was a typical specimen of the Royal Blood, with thick black hair and the Blood’s delicate features. Even more than Tiana, he resembled any number of faces in the history books. Handsome, athletic and brave, he could be a romantic young lady’s dream prince. But he’d chosen the path of a rake.

Alas for any young ladies with romantic dreams,
thought Lisette wryly. Cathay had stopped at her bed while working his way through the Court and she’d enjoyed the attention. Not in any romantic sense—Regents were not allowed romance—but the experience had been.... educational. And adventurous.

Tiana bounced in her chair. “Come, eat something. We have to plan. I’ve been thinking about which of the lights to go after first.”

Lisette offered Kiar and Cathay the two remaining cake quarters. Kiar took one. “Thank you. What do you mean, Tiana?”

Tiana bit her lip, looking between the three of them. “You all saw what happened, right? When all the Citadel magic went away? After the lights went out?”

Cathay said cautiously, “I saw something, right before we were yanked into the phantasmagory. I didn’t know if it was real or not. I know that damn sword did something.” He gave the blade lying between Tiana and Lisette a malevolent look, and then winced and lowered his eyes.

Tiana glanced between Cathay and Kiar anxiously. “Niyhan manifested. Well, some part of him. I saw a great throne made of blue light, and all the voices of the monks blended together. He gave me the light. I think it’s part of a weapon, and if I can find the other three lights, we can use the weapon against the bastard who attacked my father.”

“Okay,” said Cathay. “How do we catch these other lights?” He was too pleasant; Lisette could tell he doubted Tiana’s story.

Frowning, Tiana said, “We have to go... somewhere. To where the lights are. Then the Firstborn will give it to us.”

“Somewhere,” repeated Kiar dryly.

Defensively, Tiana said, “I can feel the lights pulling on me. It’s real! It’s almost overwhelming but Jinriki is damping it down for me.”

Cathay’s pleasant demeanor cracked. “I don’t trust anything to do with that sword.” He glanced at Lisette, as if hoping for backup, and Lisette gave him a little shrug.

“No, she’s right, something happened to her,” said Kiar. “She’s got something new. She understood the Holy Mountain’s eruption before I did.”

“When the light rained into me, I could feel everybody breathing,” said Tiana, her voice odd.

Kiar glanced at her before going on. “But even though I think she’s right about the Firstborn giving her a weapon, I don’t think we should go haring off without any idea where we’re going. There’s too much else going on.”

“Nothing else is important as this,” said Tiana, setting her jaw stubbornly.

Cathay said, “Tiana, the King just—ouch!” He looked at Lisette in puzzled confusion. “Why did you kick me?”

Lisette stared back at him, her eyebrows raised innocently. After a moment, Cathay’s gaze slid around the public dining room. “Oh. Guess we’re not talking about that yet. Well, anyhow, a Blight is pouring monsters into Ceria not a week out from Lor Seleni, Tiana. We have responsibilities.”

Kiar blew out her breath. “The proper action is to go back down the mountain and support Jerya and make ourselves available in the defense against the Blight. But I think it’s a better idea to stay here.”

Tiana stopped glaring at Cathay to stare at Kiar in bewilderment. “Here? Why?”

“Blight. Other crises,” said Kiar shortly. “We absolutely can not afford to lose the Citadel now.” Her gaze drifted toward the Vassay contingent.

Scornfully, Tiana said, “As if the Citadel would betray us now, when I’m carrying the light of their Firstborn.”

Kiar ground her teeth. “I’m pretty sure the Blighter is going to attack the Citadel again. If we’re not here to defend it and
other people
are, that’s not going to be much better than nobody defending it at all.”

“Well, that’s why we need to go get this weapon as soon as possible,” Tiana pointed out, spreading butter on a scone.

“Fumbling around the countryside following a vague sense? There are books here, Tiana. Books with real information. I found out the Blighter’s identity
here
, in a
book
. Your damn sword couldn’t even tell us that.”

“Bring some books along,” suggested Tiana, her voice becoming brittle. “They’re portable.”

Lisette exchanged glances with Cathay. Kiar and Tiana bickered sometimes, but usually it didn’t go anywhere serious. But after last night, Lisette didn’t know what to expect. The Blood’s usual retreat had been destroyed, Tiana had watched her father murdered, and a divine power had poured itself into the princess.

Lisette remembered the blue light, and the chant of the Citadel monks. She hadn’t understood any of it, but part of her training as a Regent involved remembering the strange things said around her. She wrote a report for the Regency Council before she took her nap, including some of Tiana’s confidences—but not the ones Tiana felt were most personal.

“Jinriki is a black cloud with silver eyes in the phantasmagory?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes.” Tiana scowled. “But take that part out. The part about his eyes. It doesn’t matter anymore. The phantasmagory is gone.”

Lisette knew there was something else there, another reason Tiana didn’t want to talk about the sword’s spirit form, but she didn’t ask. Patience brought answers in time.

“I need to stay here,” said Kiar sullenly.

“No. I need you. You’re smarter than me. You notice things I don’t.” Tiana stared down at the tabletop, not eating her scone.

“If you think that, then actually listen to me!”

Tiana looked up, her eyes bright and pleading. “Cathay can stay here. Or go back down to Lor Seleni, whichever you think is best. You’ll do that, won’t you, Cathay?”

Cathay finished eating a scone of his own, then stretched back in his chair and yawned. “Nope. You’re not my Queen, stormy weather. I’ll go where I please.”

“Right behind Tiana, I’m sure,” said Kiar sourly.

“Well, yes,” said Cathay, and offered Kiar a lazy grin she turned away from.

Lisette glanced at the sword on the table between Tiana and herself. She moved her elbow so she surreptitiously bumped against the blade, bracing herself for the invasion of Jinriki’s mind. He didn’t like being touched without permission, but she knew of no other way to reliably get his personal attention.

Almost immediately, she felt his mind engulf hers. Her vision darkened around the edges and red sparks danced in front of her eyes. The first time that happened, he had been furious at her. Her hands still had scabs from the injuries he’d inflicted. The second time, he’d been in utter despair. This time, he was amused and almost... friendly.

**Why are you so brave?**

**You’ve never struck me as irrational, just cruel. And I’m the closest thing to an ally you have here.**

**As if I need allies,**
he said, as scornful as Tiana had been earlier. She could still basically follow the three royals’ argument, she realized. Jinriki’s words settled around theirs like a cover over a chair. The details were hard to catch but the shape was still there.

**She is driven,**
said Jinriki.
**I am suppressing the worst of it, because the strength of the pull hurts her. But she will go after these lights, no matter the argument, no matter the chain.**

**And you will help her?**

**Of course. It is my vengeance we seek.**

“Stormy, I know you won’t listen, but... the sword. It’s been trying to get you to go off and fight for days now.” Cathay’s intense gaze lingered on Tiana like he was devouring her with his eyes.

**They are so good at lying to themselves,**
Jinriki observed clinically.
**Look at him. He is convinced he can save her from me, and she can save him from himself.**