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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The two riders, Jaimin, and Coryn join us a few minutes later. “Did you meet Coryn, Master?” I ask. I’m not sure why.

Master smiles gently. “I did. He certainly lives up to his reputation.”

Coryn maintains his sober expression, but his eyes light up, and I’m glad. He deserves to have people say nice things to him.

Hearne lowers himself onto a log across the fire from me, his leathers creaking slightly, and says, “Could you tell us exactly what happened? From previous reports, the zombie attackers didn’t bring archers with them—and with the last attack being only days ago, it seems unexpected that they were ready again so soon, and with a more coordinated plan.”

I look away, and Jaimin offers quietly, “Why don’t I tell this? Talon can step in if he has a different viewpoint to add.”

“Of course.” Hearne’s voice is dripping with sympathy and sorrow. He might not have known Tia well, but dragon riders are all very close-knit, and when one dies, even if they were disliked, everyone mourns them deeply. It has to do with the bond between dragons.

“I’d show you, but it would be a waste of time. Fix this, Mage. Or I’ll end you.”

“We were approaching the end of the woods,” Jaimin begins, and as I listen, I can’t believe this happened only yesterday. It feels as though an eternity has passed. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, but it’s the most hours I’ve ever lived without Tia.

“It’s unfortunate that Mage Silverbright felt the need to request a convocation in Lenledia,” Kanesha muses at one point, regaining my full attention. “Of course, the temples shouldn’t have put him in that position.”

“The temples shouldn’t even know about the stone resurfacing,” Hearne growls. “If I find out who told them, they’ll be meeting Weise.” Not far off, one of the strange dragons—presumably Weise—roars.

“We dragons are most displeased with the priesthood,” Leicht informs me, despite me not wondering about it at all. “The stone created us all , not just humans and their gods.”

If I had room in my head to think of anything new right now, I might care about that information.

“Still,” Kanesha continues, “to set the outlying temples on a hunt, knowing what his purpose is…” She shakes her head, then frowns. “Although… where would a temple even be out here?”

“We haven’t yet determined that,” Jaimin says. “It was low on our priority list.”

Because Tia is dead, and nothing else matters.

“The stone informed Talon that one of the acolytes—you saw him earlier—would be required to accompany us. Talon attempted to negotiate with the bishop, to suggest that we would take one of his people with us as a sign of our pure intent. That was when the bishop signaled the archers to fire.”

“The bishop did?” Hearne exclaims. “I thought the priests were merely there when the zombie attack came… that they hindered you, prevented Leicht from a full response.”

“There were no zombies this time. Just the bishop’s men.”

“The temples attacked— attacked —a group from the academies, on sanctioned business from the City of Knowledge, who had the support of every sovereign nation on the continent?” Kanesha shakes her head. “Why? What idiocy—” She breaks off. “Are you saying the Temple of Wasianth killed a dragon rider?”

“Leicht flew closer to aid us, and the archers fired at him—” The roars of the two visiting dragons drown Jaimin out, ringing in my ears.

“I hadn’t told them that part,” Leicht says dryly. “The temples are now at war with the dragons—or they will be, when our council meets.”

I’m still ignoring him—I have to, even if I wanted to ask for more information. Hearne and Kanesha cannot know about this bond.

“They fired upon a dragon?” Hearne’s face is red. “They broke treaty with the dragons?”

The way he says that makes me think there’s even more to this than I know about. Jaimin gives me a quick, questioning look, and I shrug minutely. It seems we’re both in the dark. Hopefully Master will know more.

“They fired at Leicht,” Jaimin repeats. “We weren’t initially concerned—not for ordinary arrows against a dragon. But one of those arrows…” He stops. We all know what happened next.

Hearne stands, paces away from the fire, then back. He clears his throat, holds up a finger, and says, “To sum up: the Temple of Wasianth, acting on behalf of the convocation of temples, ambushed a sanctioned mission of the City of Knowledge. They refused negotiation and committed an act of war against the dragons, at the same time killing a dragon rider. Is that correct?” His voice is even, but I can sense the rage boiling in him.

“Yes. At that point, Mage Silverbright wanted to reach his sister, and in a desperate act of magic was able to shield us from the archers long enough for Coryn to disable them—but they were already dead when he reached them. I was able to examine them last night and have determined some kind of suicide serum.”

That last part is an outright lie, and I envy the cool, collected manner in which he delivers it.

“What about the priests?” Kanesha asks. She’s as cold as ice now, her face hard, gaze analytical.

“The bishop realized that the consequences of his actions would be severe, and he was eager to take my suggestion that he accept Talon’s earlier offer to have an acolyte travel with us. I then recommended he return to his temple and send an immediate report to his high priest.”

“Where is the acolyte?” Master asks. “I think it’s time we spoke with him.”

Jaimin hesitates. “He’s… timid. I don’t believe he has any great understanding of the current situation.”

“Perhaps, but I’m very curious about the supposed presence of a temple near here. A few local priests in the villages, I would understand, but to merit a bishop, this must be a temple of considerable size, and I fail to see what purpose that would serve so far from a town with substantial population.”

Hearne’s eyes narrow. “Indeed. It seems the temples may be keeping secrets.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Jaimin cautions, but I can see he’s been thinking the same thing. “I’ll fetch Arimen, but I must remind you that we need to travel with him, and things are already… unsettled.”

“I’ll go,” Coryn says, speaking for the first time. He lays a hand on my shoulder as he passes, and I long for one of his hugs. When the riders have gone, perhaps.

I glance over toward the tent where Tia lies and start to stand. “I think I might?—”

Master’s hand clamps around my arm, and he pulls me back down. “You need to face him sooner or later, Talon. He’ll be traveling with you. And this is part of the story you may need to know.” A gentle telepathic tap precedes his next comment. “I’d also like the stone to advise us of the truth of what he’s saying, but I don’t think it wise to have it on display right now.”

Bitterly, I damn him. Not only do I need to face the acolyte, I also must communicate with the stone?

I say nothing but remain seated. Never let it be said that I shirked my duty.

Coryn returns a few minutes later, leading the acolyte. Although, it looks a little like he’s almost dragging him. The young man’s ginger hair is a mess, and his face is pale and, frankly, terrified.

“See? We’re just talking, and the dragons are all the way over there,” Coryn says, as though Leicht isn’t a mere twenty feet away. “Nothing to be afraid of. Sit down.”

The boy practically collapses as his knees fold under him, and I see Jaimin and Master exchange a look. Kanesha’s thoughts are written all over her face, and I’m struck by how similar her expression of disdain is to Tia’s. Do riders get taught that look of haughty derision?

“Arimen,” Jaimin begins gently, “you remember I introduced our guests earlier—Rider Master Hearne and Rider Kanesha? And Master Samoine.”

Bright green eyes dart nervously from face to face, and he nods rapidly.

“They have some questions now, about what happened yesterday.”

I hadn’t thought it was possible for him to pale even further, but he does.

“You’re not in trouble,” Hearne says gruffly, obviously having more sympathy for the sister-killer than I do. “We know acolytes don’t have enough seniority to cause that kind of trouble.”

Arimen visibly swallows, then says, barely above a whisper, “I’ll answer what I can, sir.”

The stone’s approval vibrates through me, and I resist the urge to yank it from around my neck and throw it in the fire.

“You’re in service to the Temple of Wasianth, correct?” Hearne begins, and Arimen nods. “For how long?”

The boy blinks his big eyes. “Until I die, sir.”

I resist the urge to call him an idiot. “The rider master meant how long have you been in service,” I snap, and he shrinks back.

Jaimin comes to stand behind me and clamps a hand on my shoulder. I get the feeling that if I yell again, I’m going to end up with bruises. At least they’ll hurt him as much as they do me… and at least his hand is on me. It’s ridiculous how comforting I find that small touch.

“I-I-I… th-three years.”

That makes us all frown. The temples, like the academies, don’t take acolytes until they’re of legal age—which on the continent is eighteen. I find it hard to believe this boy is twenty-one. Even if he has a natural baby face, surely he should have a little more confidence and self-assurance by now? Not to mention, there’s only one stripe on the shoulder of his robe. If he’s been an acolyte for three years, shouldn’t he be past the first level?

“You’ve been an acolyte for three years?” Master repeats, and Arimen nods. “How old are you?”

“S-S-Seventeen this past summer.”

“ Seventeen? ” Kanesha shouts, and Arimen falls backward off the log in his scramble to get away.

“Let me help you.” Coryn all but lifts him back into place, then pats his shoulder gently. “You’ve got nothing to worry about here. We’re just trying to understand. I have some toffees in my saddlebag that I got in Josanin, and when we’re done here, we can melt them until they’re gooey and have toffee bread.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, and from the perplexed expression on Arimen’s face, neither does he, but at least he seems less panicky.

Really, though—toffee bread? That doesn’t sound half bad.

“I’m sorry I startled you,” Kanesha says, and her tone is softer than any I’ve ever heard from her before. “Just to be sure I understand, you joined the temple as an acolyte when you were fourteen?”

“Y-Yes, ma’am.”

Hearne and Master exchange a grim look, and then Hearne asks, “Where did you live before that—where are you from?”

“Innsbrith, in the Halyn Isles. M-My family is still there.”

I turn that information over in my head. I’ve never been to the Halyn Isles—too far north, far too cold, and boring to boot—but they’re basically as far from here as you can get while still remaining on the continent. Maybe I’m misremembering—it’s not like I paid all that much attention to temple studies—but I thought the temples liked to keep their acolytes and priests local. The general consensus being that people were more comfortable with priests of their own cultures and upbringings. It seems odd that an acolyte from the Isles would be in a temple in Camblin. I’m not sure if the Isles has a temple large enough to train acolytes, but surely the next best thing would be my own home country of Rebithia.

Something is definitely going on with the temples.

“We may speak more about that later,” Master says kindly. “Which temple are you assigned to? The one in Josanin?”

Arimen shakes his head. “No, sir. I’m at the Sanctuary.”

We wait for more information, but it’s not coming.

“The Sanctuary,” Jaimin repeats. “I’m not familiar with that one. Where’s it located?”

Pointing shakily to the west, he says, “On the coast. About an hour’s ride.”

Remembering something, I reach out to Master. “Yesterday, Tia said Leicht saw a group of buildings over that way. They thought it looked too orderly to be a fishing village.”

Master doesn’t reply, just nods and says to Arimen, “We may speak more about that later too. For now, what can you tell us about what happened yesterday? Did the bishop advise you why you were leaving the temple?”

He looks shocked. “Not the bishop. He doesn’t speak to the acolytes. My mentor said news had arrived of a c-criminal fleeing a convocation, and our temple had been asked to apprehend him.” His face crumples slightly. “He didn’t mention the dragon.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Hearne mutters. “Did he say why so many of you were needed?”

Arimen shakes his head. “It was not my place to ask.”

Ugh. Not his place to ask ? How’s he supposed to become a full-fledged priest if he can’t ask questions? What the hell kind of teachers do the temples have?

“What about the archers?” Master prods. “Did you know they were there?”

Fear steals over his expression, and behind me, Jaimin sighs. “You’re not in trouble, Arimen. We just need to know how this all happened.”

“You should talk to the bishop,” he suggests eagerly. “Or one of the mentors. They would know more than me.”

“But they’re not here right now, and you are,” Master reminds him. “So… what did you know about the archers?”

“I-I knew we had archers at the Sanctuary,” he falters. “I see them training sometimes. One of the other acolytes—a new one —asked if the criminal was dangerous and we should have w-weapons, but my mentor said that was taken care of.”

“Did your mentor say what your job was, exactly?”

“My job is whatever the Sanctuary and holy Wasianth require it to be,” he says promptly, as if by rote, clearly relieved to be able to give an answer.

“Yes, of course.” Master smiles thinly. “But specific to this task. Did your mentor give further instructions?”

Arimen’s gaze darts from face to face. “Only to follow his lead and remain silent.”

“Interesting,” Hearne muses. “What about during the altercation? When the bishop confronted Mage Silverbright while they were conversing? Were you given further instructions?”

His head turns from side to side. “No.”

“When the archers began to shoot?” Hearne persists, and Arimen hunches in on himself, shaking.

“N-No.”

“Were you frightened?” Coryn asks gently. “It’s okay if you were. I suppose priests don’t expect to be in the middle of such things.”

“I’m n-not a priest,” Arimen corrects quickly. “Only an acolyte. B-But… I never thought anyone would shoot at me.”

I bite my tongue to keep from saying acerbically that nobody did shoot at him. Those arrows weren’t aimed anywhere near the priests—I’d know, since they were aimed at me.

“I-Is the dragon going to eat me?” he ventures timidly, and this time I can’t stop myself.

“Maybe.”

Jaimin’s fingers dig sharply into my shoulder even as he assures a terrified Arimen that nobody’s getting eaten.

“The healer makes promises he shouldn’t,” Leicht comments darkly, and I grit my teeth.

“Let me explain what happened from our perspective, and what our plans are going forward,” Jaimin says soothingly. “Do you know what the life stone is?”

Arimen blinks a few times, seemingly taken aback. “The creation stone? Father of the gods, source of life?”

At least the temples taught him something, though I question the use of “father.” The stone doesn’t seem to me to have a gender, and it’s never indicated that it wants to be referred to in that manner.

Jaimin isn’t as fussy as I am about nomenclature, though, because he simply says, “Yes. It surfaced here in Camblin—we’re not sure why here—several months ago, and then traveled to the City of Knowledge, where it made itself known to the councils of mages, healers, and dragon riders. It warned of a great evil and selected a team of questers to search out its chosen champion, the one person capable of defeating that evil.”

Now Arimen’s mouth is open in awe. “The creation stone,” he whispers.

“We,” Jaimin gestures in an ambiguous way that could include everyone present or not, “are the chosen questers, searching for the hero who will save us all.”

The light in Arimen’s eyes fades. “B-But… they said he was fleeing a convocation.”

“Technically, that’s true. In Lenledia, the high priestess of Malna demanded we surrender the stone to her. Obviously, that is not within our capability—the stone decides where and with whom it travels. Mage Silverbright—Talon—requested the convocation in order to avoid a disturbance in the king’s palace. This mission, you understand, is secret from all but a few. The evil we attempt to thwart is so grave, it would cause widespread panic.”

Personally, I think Jaimin’s storytelling abilities need work. He’s laying it on a bit thick, and he sounds more like a minstrel telling fairy stories to children than someone relaying the details of a vital mission.

On the other hand, Arimen is still a child by most definitions. Gods’ turds, what are the temples up to? And how are we going to travel with this boy who’s scared of his own shadow and seems so na?ve, he’d buy magic beans from a wandering salesman? Could he even handle the news of what we’re up against?

Or would he crumble at the first sign of trouble?