The Arcana: Shadow Wars, Codex I

VII

The Pegasus Prime’s Report

In which Edana rallies the soldiers and Aurelia makes a startling decision

Edana left her tale unfinished, unwilling to risk anyone else overhearing it.

Now in the bath complex, Bessa and Edana hurried to join the other Philomelos women in the warm room.

Lenora, who had waited for Bessa in the women’s dressing room, now came forward to assist. She carried a jar of oil infused with vervain, a flower sacred to the Restorer; a reminder to Bessa that Lenora had a touch of healing powers.

Originally, Bessa had intended to send Lenora to the healer’s school established by Bessa’s grandfather. Now she decided Lenora might be safer amongst others trained in combat sorcery. Therefore, Lenora would go to the Rhabdo in Pippa’s company.

Long ago, Bessa secretly vowed that when Lenora went for her training she would do so as a freedwoman. She would be well-set up, prepared to face her future. To this end, Bessa matched Lenora’s savings, unbeknownst to Lenora. Like all slaves, Lenora kept her savings to buy her freedom. An undertaking made easier thanks to Bessa’s business ventures. The extra funds would serve as a springboard for Lenora’s future.

Years ago, her grandmother showed Bessa the key to their family’s success was in treating their slaves and employees well. They attracted a better quality of worker, and fostered profound loyalty from their slaves even after the slaves bought their freedom. Besides Min’da Nuriel taught her better: no one should stay in bondage against their will forever.

Somehow, she would make good on her vow.

As she handed Lenora her clothes, Bessa glanced back at Edana. She did a double take, startled. Edana wore fine woolen undergarments, as did she. But Edana sported extra accessories: a knife, strapped to each thigh. Knives similar in shape to a kopis or falcata sword, but made of an intriguing substance.

The top part of the knives had a forward drop, and the cutting edge recurved inward. Forged from an opalescent material, the blades were etched with a spell, the nature of which Bessa could not guess. Immediately, Bessa realized the significance of the material: This was how Edana could kill giants.

Moonbow blades.

In Siluran legends—and perhaps other parts of the empire—the Huntress carried knives identical to Edana’s. But unlike Edana, the goddess forged Her blades from the light of a lunar rainbow She pulled from the heavens, in the dawn age of the world. Unmoored, the remnants of the rainbow shattered, sowing precious stones deep into the bowels of Thuraia. Firestones, as Silurans called them, on account of their fiery, iridescent colors.

Surgeons and soldiers alike coveted them, for edged firestones cut through bone and metal with ease. Anything made from them was priceless. Centuries ago an emperor had decreed that any mines containing them were automatically an imperial possession. No emperor since had rescinded the decree, nor were they ever likely to.

It was a moot issue, for as far as Bessa knew, only dryads and the Salamandra could obtain the stones at will. Among humans, firestone weapons were legally restricted to high-ranking venatori, the priests or sorcerers aligned with the Huntress…but Edana worshipped the Sower. Exclusively worshipped Him, for she did not acknowledge the other gods as gods at all.

Edana, seeing her curiosity, put a finger to her lips and pointed at Lenora, who was busy folding Bessa’s gown and didn’t see her. Bessa dutifully distracted Lenora while Edana carefully concealed her knives.

In the warm bath Bessa’s aunts talked nonstop about the giants, and their worries about what they would find come morning. Would the giants return? Did they need to flee Silura? But to where? Unfortunately, Edana could offer them no comfort on that score. She reminded them there was no point in running.

“Many people are working on getting answers. The emperor himself wants them. But you must be vigilant, and remember your town needs you, and you are best positioned to help. That is worth a great deal,” Edana said.

Grandmother, resting against the gently sloping walls of the pool, closed her eyes and said, “There is no point in speculating. Tomorrow we will know. We will bury our dead and we will rebuild, and by the Seeker’s Alliance the fiends who did this shall be found and destroyed.”

Something in Grandmother’s voice caught Bessa’s attention, prompting her to move closer. Grandmother opened her eyes and peered at her.

For the first time it hit Bessa that Grandmother would not go on forever. Of course she knew Grandmother was mortal, but knowing and accepting were two different things. Grandmother was eternally a rock, the elder Bessa looked to for guidance, and Bessa assumed she would always have her wisdom and protection. She had lasted the longest, so she would last forever.

The thought of Grandmother’s permanent absence made Bessa’s stomach plunge, and for a moment tears sprang to her eyes. Quickly, she looked away and grit her teeth, furious with herself. Some Philomelos she turned out to be!

A Philomelos was supposed to be a source of unwavering strength, a beacon to others in distress. In times of crisis, a Philomelos radiated with cool authority. To cry in self-pity, or break down to no purpose, would never do. It did not become a granddaughter of Aurelia to be a ninny at a time like—

Beneath the water, Grandmother’s hand found hers, and held tight. Bessa inhaled, startled. Slowly, she counted silently until she was sure she could keep her composure. She squeezed Grandmother’s hand in turn and exhaled.

Grandmother’s gaze was serene, but her cheek spasmed, betraying her own attempt to maintain composure. Tonight was not the first time she’d suffered losses. Bessa’s own father was a common source of grief to them, but where he was a distant memory to Bessa, to Grandmother he had been a son she raised and let herself hope would outlive her.

Grandmother persevered and stayed strong. Yet Bessa was certain she had to be worried that all she had built would be taken from them. Worried her life’s work had gone to ash and ruin, sundering the legacy she meant to leave her descendants.

“You must leave.”

What?

Grandmother continued, her tone low but the iron in her voice unmistakable. “There is peril here, and we are a target. Our vineyard cannot move, but you can. You will do so anyway, when you marry. So do it now. You are the only child Nikandros ever had, and I will not see you lost forever.”

What?

“Grandmother. You need me. I must be here to help rebuild, you can’t ask me to leave. I—”

“Edana,” Grandmother called to her, in that same quiet voice that unnerved Bessa now.

Edana, who had kept a discreet distance away from the others, treaded over to them. Her eyes were shadowed, pensive as she met Grandmother’s gaze.

Grandmother put her free hand on Edana’s shoulder, and brought the other woman still closer.

“Your father made a blood bond with my firstborn. Your mother nursed Bessa alongside you when Bessa’s mother died. For those reasons I would have raised you as my own had you come. You are obviously the reason I still have the child of Nikandros. For that reason your children’s children shall have a place here, as I count you as my heir from this time forward. So then, I ask you to guard my Bessa. I am sending her to the man to whom she is pledged. Until she is safe with him, I place her under your protection, that you guard her with your life. Will you do this?”

Time stood still. Everything seemed unreal; Bessa felt herself far away as Edana’s solemn answer came.

“My heart always longed to be here. I will always regret what could have been. In my heart, your family is my family, too. Yet, I fear I would betray the spirit of my friendship by taking Bessa with me, for however short a time. She will not be as safe with me as you think.”

Grandmother would not be deterred. “As Nikandros guarded Min’da’s back, as Min’da guarded Nikandros’s back, so shall you and Bessa guard each other’s. Who else would you trust to care for your life as though it were her own?”

Edana closed her eyes. She kept them closed seemingly forever, and only the rise and fall of her chest told Bessa that Edana was at war with herself.

Bessa, too, was at war with herself. Once upon a time she and Edana had dreamt of traveling together, of seeing the places that were only names on maps or settings in stories. That dream had not died. But more importantly, Edana was also her foster sister, her heart-sister, and Grandmother had it exactly right: who else should Edana trust to guard her back? But what could Bessa do to help her?

Like Edana, Bessa would choose death over betraying the spirit of their friendship. What was right? If she did not go, and something happened to Edana, could she forgive herself? Could she truly say she had done right by her?

Bessa put her hand on Edana’s other shoulder. “You aren’t alone anymore. You faced that desert alone, but this time, whatever you face, we will face together.”

Edana opened her eyes. Sea green met amber as the two locked gazes.

“Together,” she echoed.

Not until breakfast did Uncle Morivassus rejoin them. During the night he sent a message via Xylon’s sylph. She breezed through a window and unerringly aimed herself at Aunt Nerissa.

The sylph, barely larger than a butterfly, sweetly informed Nerissa that her husband still lived, and would return in the morning. Then she flew away again, leaving in her wake the faint fragrance of cherry trees. And their awe. Sylphs normally stayed close to dryad groves, none of which were near Falcon’s Hollow. But they bonded sometimes with venatori, including Pegasus Prime Xylon.

Bessa spotted her uncle before the others did. He looked haggard as he shuffled into the banquet hall. When he glanced around he did not appear to see anything. Soot clung to his face and clothes, and the dirt caked his boots. So tightly did he grip his sword, that his right hand appeared to be welded to his pommel. The sharp scent of smoke coming from him made her eyes water.

Bessa glanced back, to make sure no one else saw him yet. She took his free hand, leading him to the fountain in one corner of the room. A semicircle of white marble rimmed the fountain, with soft towels at one end, and a silver pitcher on the other. Bessa filled the pitcher, and in turn poured out the crystalline water into a silver bowl. The bowl, she noticed, was embossed with a vervain motif.

Without a word, her uncle took a towel and cleaned his face and hands while she waited. As she expected, he looked more alert when he finished. The waters of the fountain came from a spring blessed by the naiads, water nymphs believed to be the daughters of the Restorer. As she knew it would, the water rejuvenated him.

How long the effects would last? Perhaps not as long as it would have if he drank the water. Still, Bessa needed to question him, but it would be cruel to do so if he was too exhausted to even remember his own name.

The others gave a start when she led Uncle Morivassus to the table, and immediately started to pepper him with questions. At Bessa’s command they backed down.

“Leave him alone! Let him eat first. And greet his family,” she added, stepping aside when her aunt and her cousins rushed Uncle Morivassus all at once. Aurelius and Lucius clung to their father’s legs, impeding his progress as he made his way to the table.

Her other uncles leaned forward, but a stern look from Bessa quelled any attempts to question him. Aunt Nerissa fawned over him, of course, and Uncle Linos lightly teased him about fighting alongside the army, considering that Uncle Morivassus was a navy veteran.

Uncle Morivassus returned fire, and his quip assured Bessa of his mental alertness. His voice was hoarse; however, and Bessa insisted he not tax himself speaking unnecessarily.

At last he pushed his plate away, and Grandmother promptly gestured for Lenora to take the children out of the mess hall.

“What about the other survivors?” Bessa asked. She sat across from him, in the seat Aurelius had just vacated.

As it turned out, the survivors fled through the fens, taking refuge with a neighbor on the other side. But the bulk of the vinedressers were dead. The lightning fires destroyed a little more than a third of the vines, and the winegrowers’ compound was uninhabitable.

Out of the corner of her eye Bessa saw Centurion Makris and Pegasus Prime Xylon approaching—deep in conversation with Edana.

However, there were four in their group, with the last being a woman Bessa recognized as Pegasus Prime of the Watch, Devona Senovara. Both Senovara’s name and accent underscored that she was the only native Siluran officer. By her title, she was both the first-ranked sorceress of her legion, and the commander of the Watch in Falcon’s Hollow.

Bessa; however, knew her from the public bathhouse gymnasium, where they ostensibly took their exercise. In reality, they went for the same reasons: keeping abreast of news, gossip, and opportunities.

Uncle Morivassus continued, reporting that the giants made it to the Philomelos house and blasted the doors. That was where he and the Watch soldiers intercepted them.

That was when things got interesting.

The giants spoke, again. This time they did not chant about servants and motes. The scouts observed the giants were searching, but not actually destroying. One giant, who appeared to be the leader, held aloft a staff topped with a scrying globe. The leader consulted the crystal in a strange language, and screamed at the response the ball revealed to it.

“Wonder what it wanted to know,” Bessa mused.

She jumped in surprise when Pegasus Prime Senovara spoke, her voice roughened by smoke.

“The whereabouts of your family.”

The Watch commander stood only a foot behind her. She, too, looked as if the evening had taxed her. Soot covered her from head to foot, dimming even her Oathtaker clasp. So grim was her frown, Bessa nearly forgot ever seeing her smile. Senovara spoke through clenched teeth, as though she could barely restrain her fury.

Her left hand was bandaged, as was Xylon’s. Bessa’s eyes narrowed as she considered the likely cause of their wounds.

Senovara said, “Someone sent these giants. An enemy I do not know, but will find.”

Bessa caught Edana’s eye. Edana subtly shook her head, and they kept their silence as Senovara continued.

Joining forces, the battle sorcerers from both the Watch and the shore fort managed to paralyze the giants. The soldiers decapitated all except the leader. As Edana warned, the bodies disintegrated upon death.

“How did you get it to tell you what it was up to?” Bessa asked.

Senovara lifted her bandaged hand. “A blood spell,” she said, confirming Bessa’s suspicions. Senovara, Xylon, and their sub primes each made a donation, allowing them to compel the giant to speak to them.

“Destroying your vineyard was their secondary purpose,” Senovara said. “But their prime directive was to find and destroy your family.”

Silence. Bessa watched her family take in the report; the wheels turning in their minds.

Edana stepped forward, reading the thoughts on their faces. “The only reassurance I can offer is three things,” she said, and held up her index finger. “The giants have not struck any place twice”—two fingers—“and they can be killed”—she met their eyes before she raised her ring finger. “And their plan to make an example of you is now flipped around.”

The officers stirred, but Edana’s gaze arrested them. “No Siluran, no Rasena Valentian, should quiver when hearing of these giants, not after last night. People were supposed to think that no matter how well-guarded, they could not face the giants and live. But the giants and their masters miscalculated: they came here. The giants have gone unchecked in the Cloudwalk, in the Cauldron, in Tartessia, but they fell in Silura. That counts for much.”

A ripple of delight went through the ranks of the soldiers at her words.

Bessa suppressed a smile. The other parts of the empire may think of Silura as overrun with barbaric yokels, and the legions posted to her lands could consider their lot as un-prestigious and unpromising all they wanted. But no one could take away the truth in what Edana said: giants could destroy other parts of the empire, but in Silura they would meet their match.

Bessa accompanied her grandmother and uncles back to the estate, to see the damage with her own eyes. They traveled in a topless carriage, so they saw the smoke in the distance long before setting foot on the grounds.

Her heart grew heavier the closer they came to her home. Now. Now she must face her dead, and see their agony and terror permanently stamped on their faces.

Bessa hugged herself, attempting to regain her resolve. There was a chill in the air, which would likely disappear before the sun reached its zenith for the day. Sorcha, one of the five wandering stars in the Seeker’s Alliance, still glimmered, but She was fast sinking behind the sun.

Bessa’s mind swirled with endless to-do lists, things she must take care of before Edana was due to leave. She focused on the low-slung fences lining the main road they traveled. At regular intervals the fences had stone posts topped with large glowlights. At night the lights would blaze a path for anyone on the road. Another legacy of her family. Night travel was hazardous in other parts of Rasena Valentis, and even in the capital of Silura.

In Falcon’s Hollow, Nikolaos Philomelos observed that his patients did not get sick during daylight hours only. If someone wished to call on him, how might they see their way to him if they could not afford a glowlight? Or an oraculum of their own to summon him from their own homes?

And the darkness was friend to thieves and murderers. No matter how desperate a patient, or how dedicated a healer, traveling at night was foolish. So, he approached the town fathers with a plan: on every road there should be lights activated by the motion of passersby.

The huge orbs would glow in different colors according to what streets they illuminated. Green lights along a path led to farms on the outskirts of town. Golden lights signaled the road to the market square. Blue lights led to healers, and the healers’ school Nikolaos had established. Silver lights led to the Watch or the shore fort. For everything else, bronze.

Proximity activated the glowlights, which meant all travelers would know if someone approached them, even before seeing them. Scoundrels trying to tamper with the lights would find their efforts in vain. Destruction of one light in a sequence would cause all other lights along the line to swirl with a multitude of colors, thus warning the intended victim that someone with nefarious intent was nearby.

The lighting system was why Uncle Morivassus and the house guards who had accompanied him needed to travel alternate routes to the Watch, to ensure complete evasion of any giants abroad.

Bessa; however, thought about how the street lights affected the economy and lives of the people of Falcon’s Hollow. Where before only the well-off, or large groups could risk night time activities outside their homes, in her lifetime plays and festivals routinely continued into the night. Townspeople would gather at the bathhouse her grandfather had donated to the town.

The loss of her family would mean the end of such contributions to the townspeople and their lives. For two generations her family had been alone in their philanthropy. But their efforts over time attracted others in, around, and far from Falcon’s Hollow.

The amenities they made available attracted soldiers-turned-yeomen, craftsmen, tradesmen, and opened opportunities that took Falcon’s Hollow from its beginnings as a glorified outpost to a full-fledged, thriving town. Aunt Nerissa brought her shipping company to Falcon’s Hollow long before she married Uncle Morivassus; and between her old crew and Uncle Morivassus’s fellow navy veterans, they built up the port from virtually nothing.

More than likely Edana was right, the traitor wasn’t against the Philomelos family personally. The point was that killing her family would affect Falcon’s Hollow as a whole. The town would survive, but Bessa doubted the loss of visionary leaders like her grandmother and aunts and uncles would be a blessing for the future.

Anger stirred within her, and for the first time her thoughts turned to retribution. She fixated on Edana’s speech at breakfast. The enemy who had come after the Philomelos family may have gotten away with such treacheries before. But Edana was right, her family was not without influence.

Smiling for the first time, Bessa relaxed in her seat. New plans simmered in her mind. She knew now how she would help Edana, and in doing so, help her country.