A LEGACY OF LIGHT

KAELYN

KAELYN

She entered his chamber, her fingertips tingling and her throat tight. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and spoke softly.

"Valien?" Her voice shook. "Valien, it's me."

He sat hunched before a hearth, his back to her. The firelight outlined his form but left him in shadow. He said nothing. He did not move. He could as well have been a statue.

Kaelyn sighed. Valien was in one of his moods again. Lately these dark spells had been coming more frequently. When they hit, Valien could brood here for hours, eating little, drinking much, and try as she might, Kaelyn could shine no light into his darkness.

It was a small room, hardly the chamber of a great warrior. In the stories Kaelyn's father told, the cruel Valien Eleison sat upon a throne of bones, commanded a hall of demons, and drank from goblets of children's blood. But this chamber was no larger than Kaelyn's own. Half the shelves bore books: ancient bestiaries, histories, and epic poems. The other shelves bore jugs of the spirits he drank, overpowering rye that made Kaelyn's eyes water and Valien's memories fade.

In Kaelyn's chamber, she kept a painting of her mother, the dearest woman she had known. Valien too had lost someone, yet no memories of that woman were allowed in this chamber. No paintings. No mementos. Just mentioning Marilion, his fallen wife, was enough to send Valien so deep into darkness he would not emerge for days.

"Valien," she tried again. "We must discuss the boy."

Still facing the fire, Valien grunted. "He is not who I thought he was."

Kaelyn gasped. "Valien! You said he's the spitting image of King Aeternum. You said--"

"I know what I said." His voice was raspier than ever, the death croak of a hanging man. He turned toward her, eyes red in the firelight. "He is the flesh and blood of Aeternum, that much is true. But he's not who I thought he was. He's not strong like his father. He's not brave. He's not wise." Valien grumbled. "The boy is a fool."

Kaelyn sighed. "He is young."

"So are you." Valien reached for a mug and took a swig of rye. "You're eighteen. You're his age, or only a year older." He snorted. "I was eighteen when I first joined the Legions, then the knighthood soon after. Yet this one..." He drank again. "Rune Brewer is nothing but a spoiled, soft city boy."

"He's not yet been hardened," Kaelyn agreed. "But I traveled with him for ten days. He knew where he was going. He stayed with me." She took a step forward and held Valien's shoulder. "That shows some strength. He will learn. Teach him."

Valien leaped to his feet so violently he knocked his chair back. It clanged to the ground, and Kaelyn started.

"The boy will not learn." Valien paced the chamber, teeth bared, face red in the firelight. "The boy brought us death and misery from the first day. I was wrong, Kaelyn. I was wrong to think he could bring the people hope."

He brought his mug to his lips and drank deeply. His cup held strong spirits--Kaelyn had tried a sip once and nearly choked--yet Valien drank down this liquid fire like water.

"Valien!" Kaelyn said. She stepped toward him, held his arm, and lowered the mug from his lips. "Valien, look at me. Please. Listen to me."

He looked at her. His eyes were wild and bloodshot. In them Kaelyn saw his pain, his memories, and his loss.

When he looks at me, she knew, he sees her. She too was eighteen. She was my age when she died. When he looks at me, he sees his wife. When he looks at Rune, he sees the babe he saved while she died.

He panted, breath raw, and Kaelyn embraced him.

He needs me now, she thought. He needs me more than he needs Rune. He needs me more than his memories.

"It's all right, Valien," she whispered into his ear as she held him. "Don't lose hope now. We have more hope than ever before." She touched his cheek. "And I'm with you, as I've been for two years now. I fly at your side--through fire, light, or blood, whichever will fall upon us."

You are weary, she added silently. You are broken. And you are drunk. But you are our leader, and you are the greatest man I've known. And you will lead us home.

He wrapped his arms around her, great arms that even now, even here, made Kaelyn feel safe and small; each of those arms was nearly as wide as her body. She laid her head against his chest and felt his heart beat against her cheek.

"I cannot guarantee that he will live," Valien said. "If once more we face the fire, and I must choose between him and another... I cannot guarantee his life."

Kaelyn looked up at him. Those old ghosts circled in his eyes like crows around a gallows tree.

"I know," she whispered. "He might die. So might the rest of us. For now, let him be a beacon of hope to the people. Let him be a torch in the shadow my father cast upon this land." She gave him a twisted smile. "Am I not the same? I'm the daughter of the emperor, a voice rising in defiance. Am I too not a symbol for your uprising?"

He grabbed her arms so roughly that she gasped.

"You are more than a symbol, Kaelyn." He snarled at her. "You are a bright blade. You are a lioness. You are--"

"--the daughter of Emperor Frey Cadigus," she said. "I am a statement and a banner of rebellion. Rune will be one too. You lead us, Valien Eleison, and you will lead us to victory. But the people... the people will rally around Rune." It was her turn to snarl. "I fly at your right-hand side. Let Rune fly at your left. Together--the last knight of Requiem, the daughter of Cadigus, and the son of Aeternum--we will topple this regime, kill my father, and place Rune on the throne."

Valien turned away from her. He walked to the hearth, placed his great hand--wide as a bear paw--against the mantel. He looked into the flames, head lowered.

"If I have to choose again, Kaelyn... if I..."

His voice died, and Kaelyn felt her eyes water. Valien rarely spoke about that night, but Kaelyn had heard the tales whispered in countless taverns and halls. Seventeen years ago, when Frey Cadigus had stormed the capital and slain the royal family, Valien had fought him; he still bore the scar of Frey's blade across his chest. That night, Kaelyn knew, Frey had given him a choice. Valien had but moments to flee before more of Frey's troops swarmed the palace--just long enough to save the babe, the last heir of Aeternum... or to save Marilion, his young wife.

Valien fled the palace that night with a babe in his arms.

His wife burned.

Tears stung Kaelyn's eyes, and she approached her leader, embraced him from behind, and laid her head against his back.

"You will not have to choose," she whispered.

He spun toward her, teeth bared, cheeks flushed red. He clenched his fists.

"When fire rises, we will all burn!" he said, eyes blazing like a rabid animal's. He clutched Kaelyn's arms, and his voice rose into a torn howl. "I will not lose you! I will not see you burn, Marilion, I--"

Kaelyn gasped and stared silently.

Valien's eyes widened. He shut his mouth. His face whitened. He looked aside and blinked and his fists trembled.

"I've had enough to drink this night," he rasped. "Leave me, Kaelyn. Leave me."

She touched his cheek with trembling fingers, and tears filled her eyes. "Valien--"

"Leave me!" he roared, waved his arms, and tossed his mug across the room. It smashed against a shelf, and more mugs fell and shattered, and Kaelyn turned away. She fled the room, eyes stinging and legs trembling.