Chapter 16

As Shavala’s figure grew small in the distance, some of the tension drained from Razai’s shoulders. Not that she’d minded the last five days with the elven woman—Shavala kept quiet most of the time, and had taken on all of the hunting and cooking for the two of them without being asked.

But after months of traveling with other people, Razai was finally alone. No more dealing with Corec and his archaic sense of right and wrong. No more listening to the constant bickering between Ellerie and Marco. No more dirty looks from Ariadne any time she thought Razai wouldn’t notice. No more of Renny’s incessant chatter.

She winced at that last, unfair thought. Renny wasn’t bad, just young and lonely.

Shavala finally disappeared over the horizon, which meant it was time for Razai to get back on the road. There was still daylight left.

First, though, there was something she had to take care of.

She found a stand of trees off the West Road, far enough away that she wouldn’t be overheard by anyone passing by. After tying her animals to a tree branch so they wouldn’t be frightened off, she stopped to think. Did she really want to do this? She hadn’t spoken to Vatarxis in a year.

But there were things she needed to know, and there was no sense in waiting any longer.

Projecting her voice across the barrier between the two worlds, she said, “All right, you old monster. I’m alone. Talk.”

There was no response.

She waited.

And then she waited some more.

“Hurry up!” she said. “I’m not going to stay here all day!”

The air in front of her shimmered, and then a small imp with red leathery skin popped through. It fell to the ground and pushed itself upright, then spun around, glaring indignantly.

“Razsai?” it hissed when it saw her. “Why Razsai bring Tifwa here?” The third eye in the middle of the imp’s forehead kept darting around, looking in all directions.

“I didn’t ask for you, Tifwa. I want to speak to him.”

“Masster busy.”

“Let me talk to him now or I’ll send you home without your wings.”

Tifwa snarled, but then his face went slack.

“Razai.” Vatarxis’s deep, bone-shaking voice always sounded strange coming from the tiny imp. “So, my wayward daughter finally deigns to speak to me again. I take it you want something?”

“You can start by telling me what happened between you and the Chosar.”

“Chosar?” Vatarxis said. “That’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time. What do you care about the Chosar? They’re long dead.”

“Except for the one I met in Tir Yadar, who somehow knows your name. She says you waged a war against her people.”

Vatarxis snorted—a sound Tifwa’s body couldn’t replicate, so it echoed faintly through the connection instead. “You think the Chosar still live? And in Tir Yadar, no less? You’re mistaken. If they were alive, they would have made their presence known by now. They’re not much for subtlety.”

“Not the Chosar; just one woman. She was in some sort of magic sleep until we woke her up.”

“Hmm, that could be,” Vatarxis said. “They were always messing with magic they didn’t understand. That’s what killed them in the end.”

“So you do know about them!”

“Of course I do. What of it?”

“Did you go to war against them? You’ve told me about fighting wardens before, but you never said anything about a war.”

“It happened a few times. Twice against the Chosar.”

“Why invade the mortal realm at all? I thought you didn’t care about it.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Vatarxis asked.

“You haven’t been here since my mother was killed.”

“That’s not true, but it hardly matters. Why cross the barrier when I have my dutiful daughter to carry out my will?”

Razai growled low in her throat. “But why attack the Chosar?”

“Why does anyone do anything?”

“That’s not an answer!” she snapped.

“It’s the only one you’d understand.”

“If you used to wage war, then why stop? Was it just the Chosar that you hated?”

“You’re missing the point,” Vatarxis said. “The game’s not as much fun when your strongest opponents destroy themselves before you get a chance to kill them all. Besides, things changed once we learned to take on their form. New experiences.”

“I don’t understand.”

“And I don’t intend to discuss it any further. But seeing as you’re willing to talk to me again, is your pet warden behaving himself?”

“Why did you send me to follow him?” she said.

“To keep an eye on things, of course. Two new wardens when there should have been just one? The Lady is playing games.”

“What does she have to do with it?”

“She and I had an agreement. A demonborn warden—the first ever.”

“Who... Rusol is demonborn?” Razai hadn’t realized. She’d watched the young prince for a while, but mostly from a distance.

“Your grand-nephew, in fact.”

“Nephew? But that means...”

“Your younger sister married his grandfather.”

Razai had never met any of her half-siblings. Vatarxis had always implied they were long dead, and he’d refused to help her track down their descendents.

She had to think back to recall the name. “Queen Benere was my sister? Wait—younger sister? That’s why you crossed the barrier again?”

“Obviously.”

Razai had to take a moment to consider the implications. Queen Benere—her sister!—had been dead for years, but she’d left behind a son and two grandsons. That meant Marten was Razai’s nephew ... and he’d died just weeks before she could have met him. Just weeks before she could have talked to him. Only Rusol was left.

“Did Rusol really kill Rikard?” she asked, not certain she wanted to know the answer. If Benere was Vatarxis’s daughter, then Rikard was his great-grandson, and yet Vatarxis hadn’t been disturbed when he’d found out the young man had died. He’d seemed almost happy about it.

“You’re the one who told me he did.”

“I told you he had reason to, and that I didn’t see any sign of interference from the outside. I didn’t actually see him do it.”

“Who cares if he did or not?” Vatarxis said. “Rikard wasn’t born with our blood. Only Rusol matters.”

That explained his reaction. Rikard wasn’t demonborn, and his death would put Rusol on the throne. As both warden and king, Rusol would wield a great deal of power and influence, enough to affect all of northern Aravor. And as demonborn, he could...

Razai hesitated. She was thinking like herself, not like her father. “What do you get out of it?” she asked.

“A piece on the game board.”

“What?”

“The game may have changed, but it never ends.”

Razai growled in annoyance and changed the topic. “If Rusol is one of your agents, why did you send me to spy on him?”

“He’s not mine—that wasn’t part of the deal. He has his own role to play.”

“Role? What role? What are you talking about?”

“It’s not important. You learned what I needed to know, and that’s all that mattered.”

“But then why watch Corec? He’s certainly no demonborn. He bonded me!”

Vatarxis chuckled, the sound causing Tifwa’s body to vibrate. “That should make your task easier, don’t you think?”

“What task?”

“To start with, making sure he doesn’t interfere with my plans. The Lady only delivered on one of her promises. She failed on the others, and then this new warden came out of nowhere. Let’s make sure he doesn’t turn into an enemy. We wouldn’t want another Yelena on our hands. Or worse, another Badru.”

Razai didn’t recognize the second name, but that wasn’t the important question. “How am I supposed to keep him from interfering in your plans when you refuse to tell me what those plans are?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Vatarxis said. “For now, keep him away from Rusol.”

“It’s too late for that,” Razai said. “Rusol has been sending compelled troops to kill him. Corec asked me to find out why. I’m on my way to Larso right now.”

Vatarxis was quiet for so long that Razai thought he’d lost his link to Tifwa.

Then he spoke again. “It would be helpful if a few more wardens died. I doubt Corec is on The Lady’s list, and I was hoping to make use of him myself, but it’s best to be safe. Rusol can’t be allowed to die until he’s completed his tasks. If the two of them come into direct conflict, you’ll need to kill Corec—along with any of his bondmates that might want revenge.”

Corec finished tying down the tent’s last rope, then stood and brushed the dirt from his knees. “It looks like we still have some time before supper,” he told Katrin. It was Sarette and Nedley’s turn to cook, and even with Leena coaching them, it would take a while. “I’m going to try that weapon binding spell again.”

“I thought you gave up on that,” Katrin said, unpacking their bedrolls and tossing them inside the tent.

“I did, but then today, while we were riding, it came to me out of nowhere. I think I understand it now.”

“You learned the spell?”

“I think so, but I need to try it.”

“Good luck,” Katrin said. “I’ll finish getting set up here.”

Corec kissed the top of her head, then grabbed the maul and went to look for a quiet spot away from all the activity. They’d set up camp in a copse of trees away from the road, their tents hidden from prying eyes. For the past two days, there’d been more traffic on the West Road than Corec remembered ever seeing in the winter, and he didn’t want to tempt any horse thieves.

Beyond the camp, he found a boulder to sit on and summoned another mage light to illuminate the area. Laying the war maul—Shatter, as Ariadne had called it—across his lap, he closed his eyes and concentrated.

Corec had spent months trying to learn the new binding spell. When he’d given up on it, he’d figured all that time had been wasted, but now, two weeks later, everything had suddenly started to make sense. The last step, though, was to actually attempt to cast it. The wizards he’d spoken to back when he was trying to learn about the warden runes had all suggested that binding spells required weeks or months of preparation, but Corec had spent a great deal of time practicing and picturing in his mind how the bond would work. Hopefully it would be enough.

It took him several minutes to cast the spell, the whole time feeling almost as if he was tying invisible knots in his mind. When he was done, a tiny, glowing triangle—the same shade of blue as his warden runes—appeared on his right palm. Its twin showed up on the maul’s shaft.

It was done. Before he could test whether it worked, though, there was a commotion from the camp. Corec rejoined the rest of the group to find Boktar and Ellerie speaking to a middle-aged man with thinning hair. Behind them was a farm wagon drawn by a team of just two mules. A woman and two young children were on the wagon seat, bundled up against the cold. Two lanterns hung from the front of the wagon to light their way.

“Corec, we’ve got a problem,” Boktar said. “This is Willis, who was able to tell me why we’ve seen so many groups heading east. He says the dragon is coming to Four Roads.”

“Dragon?” Corec asked. “The one from the keep? That’s got to be two hundred, maybe two hundred fifty miles. They don’t usually range that far out.” But when they did, it meant trouble.

Willis’s gaze darted around the camp. “Wh ... where’s all the light coming from?”

“Those are called mage lights,” Corec said. “I’m a wizard.” That was close enough to the truth, and most people at least had an inkling of what a wizard was. “Don’t worry, they can’t hurt you.”

“We were just looking for a place to stop, sir. We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing us, and there’s plenty of room for you to camp here if you want.”

“Go ahead,” Boktar said to the man. “Tell him what you told me.”

By now, everyone had gathered around.

Willis swallowed as he caught sight of the group’s weapons and armor. “I was a leather-worker in Four Roads,” he said. “A few months back, folks from south of town started showing up, saying the dragon had attacked their village. It wasn’t many at first, but it got worse. Then, five weeks ago, people said they’d seen the dragon flying as far north as Springwater.”