Song of the Ascendant

10. Revelations

Eighteenth of Harbinger

The Kingdom of Svaleta had always had a complicated relationship with magic and those who wielded it. After they were granted new independence following the fall of the Palian Empire, all magic had been driven out of their lands. If the official stories were to be believed, this had been the result of a war with a nation of mages that had attempted to conquer the peaceful farming nation. Older tales, long forgotten to most, told of a Svaletan king who had decided to eradicate all magic from his lands. It was this conflict that drove Belkai's predecessor into Narandir and created the oppression of the elves that had lasted a thousand years. The words quoted by Sashai in that mine echoed the thoughts of many Svaletans even now: magic would be the destruction of all. The one exception, if it was even that much, was the Temple of the Sun in the capital of Svaleta. The city had been built in the valley between two hills. On one stood the king's grand palace, secure behind walls and roving guards. On the second stood the whitewashed, many-spired Temple, led by the Prophetess of the Sun. Together they ruled, the King and the Prophetess, with an uneasy separation of powers whose precise borders depended on the exact occupant of each office. The crucial distinction lay in the fact that although the king was always feared and respected for his power and authority, the Prophetess was beloved for her wisdom and benevolence. Her name was Siara, though it had been a long time since any had used it. As she did most days, she stood before the window in her chambers at the top of the Temple's central spire, staring out at the city. She was clothed in a soft white dress that ran down to her ankles, ending just above her bare feet. Her hazel eyes were mixed with sadness and fear as she watched a detachment of soldiers patrol the Temple grounds. It was too late for that, really. Only a matter of months had passed since her sacred place had been defiled by the Arcane's attack dogs. Too many of her people had been killed by the very Arcane who then demanded her loyalty. That occasioned a sad smile. Who could blame her for ultimately placing her loyalty with Narandir? Those who sought freedom deserved loyalty, not the oppressors, and that was exactly what the Arcane had become. So she had sent Sashai to this Council of Mages, but it had been too long with no word. Something had gone wrong. Somehow Delorax had found out about the meeting and intervened – which meant that he knew of the Temple's involvement. So now everything was at risk.

She hadn't been overly surprised that a lone rider from the Brilhardem had been spotted crossing the border with Tios. What was surprising was that she had identified herself to the border guards and asked for an escort. She had her informants in the palace, and had demanded that she join the king in his meeting with the mage. He had accepted, and Siara had hardly slept that night as she pondered the strange turn of events. This was Svaleta, after all. Mages did not simply appear and demand an audience with the king – especially those who, by law, were to be killed on sight. Farhad still had yet to change that law, despite his supposed alliance with Belkai of Narandir. The insolence alone was enough to have piqued his curiosity, though it frightened Siara. The Silent Order was known for just that – subtlety and discretion. To act this brazenly was so out of character that it signalled news of the worst kind.

The gentle click of the door opening caused Siara to break away from her thoughts and turn to the man in the doorway. He was older than most, in his thirties, and had a sword strapped to his side. Siara resisted the urge to sigh. Her priests had insisted that she have a bodyguard after the attack on the Temple. Times were changing for the worst, and now even the Prophetess had to watch out for dangers.

"It is time, Milady," the man said quietly.

"Thank you, Jarrel," she said, and slipped her feet into the pair of shoes beside her. "We mustn't keep the king waiting."

She missed Toldir's smile, but he was the first priest to die in the attack. She missed Sashai's wisdom, but she was nowhere to be found. The border guards were under orders to escort her should they find her, but there had been no word. It was a lonely walk along the flower-lined path that led to the palace. She was oblivious to the sad stares of the Svaletans who stopped to watch her pass by. They too had been shocked by the violence that had been rained upon their once safe city. It wouldn't stop there, she knew. Svaleta faced dark days no matter how the story ended. Her only hope was that she would bear the light to guide them into a new day. Jarrel's head was on a swivel, assessing the citizens gathered near the path, searching for threats. And what could you do against a vampire or werewolf, Siara wanted to ask, but never did. The man was willing to die for her. That earned her respect and gratefulness.