Page 5

A urora raced through the cobbled streets, ignoring the panicked shouts of her mother, the shrieks of colourful birds trapped in wire cages, the cries of gulls overhead, and the crashing of waves against the piers. She ignored the medley of fresh spices, the stink of slaughtered fish and fowl, the perfume of ladies both high and lowborn, the tang of sweat, and the salt of the sea. None of it mattered. The only sound in Trisia that mattered was calling her. It sounded like citrus, it tasted like a cool breeze, it smelled like joy, and it felt like if she didn’t find it, she would never be whole.

Half in a trance, she followed the music only she could experience. Wild magic was calling her, inviting her to awaken. Excitement pushed her faster. Past the market square, beyond the guildhalls and their imposing stone facades, through back alleys and over rusted gates into an overgrown, long-neglected patch of green. Aurora wriggled through thick brush and tangled, thorny bushes that hadn’t seen a gardener’s sheers in decades. Sticky blood ran in rivulets down her arms and the backs of her hands. Her scalp protested the sharp tugging of blonde tresses caught and snagged on twisted greenery. Yet still, she answered the call with nary a whimper.

Freeing herself from the nightmarish hedge, she came upon a small clearing with an even smaller depression in the centre. The music was loudest here, drowning out all else. Aurora stepped closer. From the centre of the depression, a sprig of green slowly wended its way upward. As it reached higher, it grew in thickness, one coiling shoot becoming many. Two branches split outwards, a small, golden fruit growing and ripening on each. Aurora watched, transfixed, not even realising that another girl with russet hair, wild eyes and a tattered, stained silk dress had come into this hallowed sanctuary, heeding the same call. Not until that other girl had reached for the second fruit. They locked eyes then, and ate the gift of the wellspring, juices like liquid gold painting their lips, chins and hands.

As they devoured the last bite, the song that had called her dissipated.

“Who are you?” the girl asked.

“Aurora,” she answered, wincing as the stinging pain of cuts and scrapes replaced the trance. “Who are you?”

“Princess Phaed—”

“ I am the one who will devour you whole! ”

The sanctuary burst into flames, once-living green turning to ash in seconds. Phaedra lay before her, broken and charred. Aurora screamed and screamed, hands shaking as she collapsed to her knees. She reached towards Phaedra, but the princess disintegrated into ashes, ripped away by the rising winds. Above, the sky darkened, taking on the crimson hue of a violent sunset. The winds whipped past, keening in her ears, dark clouds above swirling into a vortex. From the centre, the beast emerged, a great serpent with blood-red scales and countless, twisted horns, its eyes glowing like fiery gold, lit from within by a bone-chilling hatred. It opened a mouth full of fangs and dove from the sky.

Aurora woke with a start, her heart racing.

“It’s okay. It was just a dream.” Phaedra put her hand in Aurora’s.

Aurora turned her head. Phaedra lay next to her, snuggled close in the tent they’d decided to share after they rode their mounts to near exhaustion. Aurora threw her arms around Phaedra. It had just been a nightmare. She held back her tears as Phaedra held her in turn.

Drakon’s words had chased her nearly the whole way, subdued only by Silvanus’ divine magic. Outside their tent, the pop and crackle of the fire, the calls of owls and the calm nighttime winds accompanied the grunts and snoring of their unlikely companions.

The beast’s voice was silent. They’d managed to outrun it.

Aurora calmed her racing heart and pulled away, squeezing Phaedra’s hand, a strange sense of déjà vu taking hold as she took in Phaedra’s sleep-rumpled appearance.

“What was it about?” Phaedra asked.

“Hmm?”

“Your dream.”

“Nightmare,” Aurora corrected her.

“Whatever it was, tell me. You’ll feel better once you’ve spoken about it.”

Somehow, she doubted that.

“I dreamed of when we found the wellspring.”

“Meeting me wasn’t that bad.” Phaedra smiled.

Aurora chuckled. No, it hadn’t been.

“It started like that, and then everything burned. You…you died. It spoke to me in my dream, the beast, and then it was there, coming to devour me.”

“Do you hear it now?”

Aurora shook her head. Thank the Triad for that.

“I won’t let it hurt you.”

“I wish you wouldn’t promise something like that.”

“Why?”

“Because you keep your word.” Aurora grimaced.

“When it suits me.” Phaedra winked. “You’ll feel better once my reinforcements arrive. We’re nearing a proper town, so once you awaken at this wellspring, we’ll take a carriage back home where you’ll be trained by the top tutors in Viridis and protected by the best defences in Trisia.”

“ If I awaken.”

“You will.”

“You can’t know that.”

She’d already failed once.

“You know how much I hate that old hag, but the high priestess was right. If your fate is to seal the Beast of Old, then you will. Ergo, you will awaken your magic. Besides, how many times has this cycle repeated? And every single time, Drakon is sealed.”

But how many people would die? How many would suffer? What would be lost? Or more importantly, who? Phaedra meant everything to her, and she stubbornly insisted on putting herself in harm's way.

“She’s not an old hag… and she didn’t say I would survive it, Fae. Even our records of the most recent hero of the holy sword only speak of his deeds, not his life after the fact.”

“If the previous hero was as tedious as Silvanus is, he probably bored his biographers into an early grave.”

Aurora snorted.

“He’s not that bad.”

“You laughed. I know you agree with me.”

The flap of their tent was opened then. Outlined by the flickering firelight was the man in question.

“Not giving in to your provocations doesn’t make me tedious.”

“Well, barging into a lady’s tent makes you rude. So now you can be both,” Phaedra hissed.

Ignoring her, he turned to Aurora.

“If you’re awake, we should move. The wellspring is near, but there’s no telling for how long.” He held out his hand.

“We’re sleeping! Go away,” Phaedra moaned.

“Sleep is a luxury,” Silvanus countered.

Aurora bit back a sigh and accepted Silvanus’ hand. He pulled her to her feet, wrapped her in a cloak and quickly had her seated on his big, white loper. She felt like so much luggage as they departed the camp.

“Wait!” Phaedra cried as she scrabbled from the tent, russet hair in disarray.

“You and your guards can catch up with us after your rest, Princess,” Silvanus said, urging their mount onwards. “Let the paladins know to follow.”

Aurora winced as the graceful loper sped to a gallop. She wasn’t the most accomplished rider, despite sharing Phaedra’s tutors. Her inner thighs were chafed and her backside ached. She’d never ridden so hard in her life.

“Can you heal with your divine power, Silvanus?”

“If the wound was inflicted by a monstrosity, yes.”

Aurora very much doubted she would ever ride a loper-shaped monstrosity. More's the pity, given her current predicament.

“Are you injured?”

“Just…sore.”

“I would have thought you used to riding, being acquainted with the princess. And Neptune is quite the graceful racer.”

Neptune could be the embodiment of grace and liquid speed but that wouldn’t change the fact that hours of hard riding was injurious to one’s backside. And it wasn’t as though scholars did their reading and writing atop galloping lopers.

“We’ve led very different lives. It’s not as though we’re joined at the hip.”

“Does she know that?” he asked, amused.

It was the first bit of dry wit she’d heard from him. Aurora risked turning her head to ensure she wasn’t dreaming it. But there on his face was a smile.

“Great Goddesses, was that a joke?”

“Not a very good one, if you’re asking.” He frowned.

“Just a surprising one.”

“Are prophesied heroes not supposed to crack jokes?” His lips curled upwards.

“I’m not entirely certain. You’re the first I’ve met.” Aurora found herself smiling back.

“Likewise.”

“I’m not a—”

“Except that you very much are.”

Aurora gripped the reins as her palms turned clammy. Even now, there were moments she slipped into comforting denial about that. It probably said as much about his soothing presence as it did about her need to escape her dread.

“How did you find out? How did you become Justice’s avatar?”

“I was called to the Temple by High Priestess Nerio and asked if I could wield the holy sword for them. I thought it was some hazing ritual for the imperial guard, that the sword was a fake. You’re probably the only other person in Trisia who can appreciate my surprise at finding I could actually hold it.”

Quite.

The holy sword was said to incinerate any who attempted to wield it without Justice’s permission.

“Were you scared?”

“Oh, absolutely. When I realised it wasn’t burning me to a crisp, I puked all over the fancy marble floors. And myself. Not something I recommend doing in full plate. There’s a good reason wild and divine magic only ever mix in an avatar.”

Aurora barked out a laugh.

“Merciful Triad, I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as my squire was, let me tell you.”

Aurora suppressed a few giggles at the poor squire’s fate. Some part of her eased, knowing that even a warrior of the hero’s calibre felt fear at the prospect of what lay ahead. Perhaps that made her less unworthy for feeling the same.

“I had no idea you were training to be in the imperial guard.”

“I was slated to become Princess Phaedra’s newest guard, in fact.”

“No,” Aurora gasped.

She couldn’t imagine the serious, staid Silvanus running around after Phaedra and putting up with her antics. All her current guards shared her sense of humour and had learned to pick their battles.

“Oh, yes. Empress Neverita wanted her youngest on a tighter leash.”

“I mean this in the nicest possible way, but she would have made it her mission to chew you up and spit you out just to prove a point,” Aurora said.

“Now I get to do battle against Drakon. Hard to say which is the more gruelling beast to subdue.”

Aurora chuckled. No one won against Phaedra when she set her mind to something.

“You’d best be careful not to say that to her face.”

“Duly noted.”

“And Fae’s not that bad.”

“A resounding endorsement, clearly, given I received one just like it.”

Aurora blushed and cleared her throat.

“I mean it! You’ll never find another soul as loving or loyal.”

“I’ve experienced the loyalty. I suspect the loving is something she saves for a select few.”

In that he was correct. But it bothered her that he had a negative view of Phaedra. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that they didn’t see the woman she truly was. After all, Phaedra was very good at crafting her public image and holding people at a distance. But she hoped Silvanus would see Phaedra as Aurora did. She deserved to have more people in her life who truly knew and cared for her.

“Everyone thinks being a princess is all parties and ballgowns and luxury. I used to think the same. But her fate was decided before she’d even been born. She never got a chance to have her own dreams, let alone pursue them. Her life is one of constantly being on display, of duty and sacrifice. Once I learned the truth, I have never once envied her that. Is it any wonder that she saves her true heart for those who’ve proven themselves worthy of it?”

“Fate rarely does Her chosen any favours,” he murmured, almost too quiet for her to hear. Yes, she supposed they three had that in common now. There was little to envy in that. “Although there is something I’m curious about. How is it that a merchant’s daughter turned acolyte becomes the princess’ closest confidante?”

“Initiate,” she corrected him, before realising it meant next to nothing now. Her whole life before this point mattered not a whit. It was strange to think that fate had robbed her of who she was.

“Apologies. Initiate.”

“How did you know all that?”

“High Priestess Orithyia made sure I knew everything about you before I arrived. And you’re quite the curiosity among the imperial guard candidates.”

“Oh?”

“And the more I know, the better I can protect you.”

“Oh.” Aurora tried to push it from her mind. “Well, to answer your question, I punched her.”

Everyone always asked that question, hoping for some secret key to worming their way into Phaedra’s good graces. But hers was a friendship that had come roaring into Aurora’s life like a gale. Silvanus was quiet for a long time after that.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, a slash of bright pink and gold tinging the midnight blue. The loper cantered along the rocky desert path. Once, this would have been green and full of life. But much of Aureum had dried up in the ancient past, just as the rest of Trisia had, its mighty rivers reduced to a trickle, forcing the capital to move closer to the border with the still-verdant Viridian imperial centre. Her dig site had been at the ancient royal capital, Altanus, now buried beneath the sand and rock of thousands of years.

“No matter how many times I turn that over in my head, I can’t picture you punching the princess,” Silvanus said.

Aurora laughed. Neither could anyone else.

“I wasn’t nearly so mild-mannered as a child. I was terribly jealous of Fae, and she of me. One day, I’d had enough of her prancing about the temple library with her sycophants in tow, praising her wild magic. I marched right up to her and gave her a black eye. She returned the slight, and from there it was a lot of hair pulling, biting, kicking and screaming.”

“And you weren’t executed?”

“Shockingly, no. Both the empress and high priestess already understood why we despised each other. I was furious that she had wild magic, pretty clothes, and a hundred friends, even though we’d both arrived at the wellspring at the same time. She was envious that I could be anything I wanted, do anything I pleased, and go where I wished without always being followed or being on display. I think Her Majesty thought it would be a good lesson in humility and compassion for Fae to understand a commoner’s problems. I don’t think anyone expected us to become friends after that, but for Fae, I was probably the only one outside her family who treated her like a normal little girl.”

And for all their differences, Phaedra had proved to be the truest friend Aurora ever had. Where either faltered, the other was there to pick them up. When Aurora spiralled into gloom, Phaedra was ever her light. When Phaedra thought to take one prank too far, Aurora was there to pull her back from her worst impulses.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what drew you to study the past rather than become a merchant or the princess’ lady’s maid?”

“The last king of Aureum—King Theron.”

“The one who attacked the avatar during the first calamity?” Silvanus asked, amused.

“The very same! His biography is our only written record of the first calamity. And he’s so much more interesting than the playwrights make him out to be. My thesis focused on our interpretation of one of the ancient temple tongue words used to describe his bride. It turns out she was a princess!” Aurora gushed.

Oh, the older scholars tore her to shreds for that reinterpretation for months, but eventually a re-examination of the original text proved she’d been right. It was that academic victory which had persuaded Orithyia to let her prove herself on this dig—to become a full-fledged scholar.

“Well, as long as you don’t intend to reenact certain parts of his story…” Silvanus smiled wryly.

“Best not bring it up with Fae.” She laughed.

“Hmmm,” he agreed. “Do you know the name of the first hero of the holy sword?” he asked quietly.

Aurora shook her head.

“No, only his title is mentioned in the king’s biography. Nothing else that’s survived the millennia bears his name.”

But as the quiet hush of the desert began to fill with music, her moment of distracted happiness slipped away. She should have focused on her magic, not the past.

“We’re close,” Silvanus said.

Maybe this time Aurora would awaken the wild magic she should have awakened when she and Phaedra found the Viridian wellspring. She felt the pull again, the trance. This was different, though. It wasn’t nearly as strong. It didn’t warp and blend her senses. It sounded like sand slipping through her fingers, like the call of wild animals, like blood rushing to her ears.

“You hear it now?” Silvanus asked.

“Yes. But not as strongly as when I was a child,” she answered.

He didn’t comment again. Probably for the best, as the closer they got, the more insistent the pull was. Once more, the melody was a full-body experience unlike any other. Afternoon sun warmed her skin despite the early hour, sweet pomegranate tantalized her tongue, the scent of cinnamon filled her nostrils. Suddenly she was off the saddle, allowing the wellspring to pull her in, to seduce her. Aurora didn’t know how long she walked, only that every step she took brought her closer, intoxicating her senses and filling her ears with a melody of the wild magic infusing this place.

It drew her to a large rock standing alone in the landscape. Aurora placed her hand on its cold, rough surface, but she knew this was different. The magic was not as compelling here as it had been in Viridis. The wellspring was entrancing, but she didn’t feel as though some part of her needed it to be whole, as if it were some secret key to her soul. As Aurora stood there, hand to the rock, the music slowly faded, as did her hope.

She turned to Silvanus and shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t apologise. We simply need to find the next wellspring.”

“You make it sound so easy. They could be anywhere in Trisia.”

“True, there is only one wellspring for each province, and they can be anywhere in that province at any given time. But Her Majesty began mobilizing scouts before I even set out from the capital. By the time we reach the province of Gilvus, I suspect someone will have already located it,” Silvanus explained, leading her back to their loper. “Don’t think just because we’re expected to face Drakon, that we’ll do any of this alone. I imagine it was much more difficult in ages past when Trisia wasn’t united as an empire, but this age is different. Take heart in that.”

She’d not known that about the wellsprings. Another glaring example of her cultivated ignorance.

“I…I will try. Thank you.”

They mounted and headed back for the camp. The sun was now high enough to bathe the desert in a rosy glow.

“How did you awaken your magic?”

“I’m not sure I did. Once I visited the Nivean wellspring, all of a sudden, it was there. Not that I had much control of it, or any idea of what to do with it.”

It was much the same for every person Aurora had ever asked about the subject. From one breath to next, magic was theirs, as tangible as a limb. She sighed. Another strange feeling of déjà vu crept up on her as she watched the loper’s ears twitch as it trotted along the rocky path, rose gold rock interspersed with long, midnight blue shadows marking every pebble and dune.

“What was that?” Silvanus asked.

“What was what?”

“I…” He peered at her, blue eyes raking over every inch of her. “No, never mind. My apologies.”

“The light plays tricks at this hour. It’s almost easy to understand why the ancients thought the spirits were most active at dusk and dawn.”

They weren’t any longer, if they even still existed. If they’d ever existed.

He smiled ruefully.

“I suspect a lack of sleep isn’t helping.”

“Maybe we’ll get some when we return to camp.”

“With the dulcet tones of the princess’ insults and the comfort of the paladin’s open contempt, how could I not rest peacefully?”

Aurora laughed. Perhaps Silvanus would have survived Phaedra’s tests after all, had he become her guard. In another life, maybe they would have traded tips for dealing with her antics, rather than chasing hopeless leads and battling ancient evils.

Warm lips caressed her neck.

Aurora stiffened, turning to Silvanus with wide, fearful eyes, slapping her hand on her neck. What kind of hero accosted a woman?

Fingers trailed up her calves.

As panic threaded through her, Silvanus seemed just as surprised by her movements. He couldn’t possibly be touching her, seated as he was behind her with his hands on the reins.

“ Surrender yourself to me, and I will make your last moments worth dying for .”

“It’s here,” Aurora said, swallowing down bile.

“You can feel it as well as hear it?” he asked, aghast.

“Yes,” Aurora whispered.

“Filthy, fucking monster,” Silvanus muttered darkly, washing her in divine magic, erasing the feel of the beast on her skin. “Well, it doesn’t look like rest is in our immediate future.”

“No,” Aurora sighed. “Thank you. I don’t… I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here to—”

“Stop right there. I could be bleeding to death and I would consider it an honour to use the last of my strength to keep that thing from touching you. Never think you need to suffer through that for a moment, Aurora. Understood?”

“Yes. Tha—”

A loper shrieked in the distance. Shadows cast by the sunrise bubbled and congealed all around them. Their loper shied before stomping on the ground, sending the shadows scattering. She’d heard the steeds used by Justice’s temple were imbued with the goddess’ power and trained to fight as hard as their riders, but it was altogether another thing to see it in action.

“Monstrosities,” Silvanus said, grimacing. “I need to find the centre of their eruption and destroy it or they’ll spread.”

He raised his hand and sent out a wave of divine magic, sparkling, pale light dissolving the monstrosities before they could take shape.

“Hold on.”

Silvanus urged their loper to make haste as Aurora’s heart was lodged in her throat. They made it to the next rise, the camp visible below. A sea of bubbling black circled their small camp, monstrosities rising from the shadows, their gruesome features hardening as they prepared for bloodshed. The camp was surrounded, hemmed in by tooth and claw, all of it dripping black shadow. Imperial lopers scattered and shrieked as monstrosities tore them down. Blood painted the shredded remains of tents quickly lost in a sea of roiling black. Imperial guards were devoured whole. The paladins and their mounts pushed back against the tide, but where their divine magic dissipated one monster, another three rose and took its place.

Aurora’s eyes sought Phaedra in the slaughter. There, surrounded by imperial guards using wild magic to little effect, Phaedra stood bloodied, wide-eyed, and holding a small box in her hands. She was backing up as the monsters advanced, but one was rising behind her, its toothy maw wide open, ready to swallow her whole.

“FAE!”