Surrender (8 page)

7-The Flames

Desaunius pulled the horse into the courtyard in Orlondir and slipped off its chestnut back. She moved her hands through her ankle-length hair and wound it in a traditional bun, pinning it into place. She grabbed the reins, looking for someone from the Grand Hall. It was dismally quiet in Orlondir when the Fire Festivals weren’t happening. Hearing nothing, she began circling the courtyard, pulling the horse across the cobblestone walkways and weaving around the crystal statues and perfectly trimmed grass. When she glanced back at the archway to the Grand Hall, she noticed a woman standing there in a long white gown, beaded necklaces hanging to her waist, locks of summery brown hair down to the small of her back. Her face was like glass, her piercing brown eyes glaring at Desaunius.

She eyed the woman scrupulously as she brought the horse round to the pavilion in the center of the courtyard.

“Ahdunie,” the woman said with a sly smile. She sounded almost mocking.

Desaunius recognized the familiar sound of the ancient tongue of Avristar. “Ahdunie,” she replied. She pulled her eyebrows down and let her hand slip off the reins. Even in the blue and silver embroidered gown anyone should have recognized her. Desaunius thought she knew everyone residing at the Elmare castle. There weren’t many of them.

“Oh bother!” the woman shrieked, throwing her hands up in disgust. She crossed her arms and remained leaning against the arch to the Grand Hall. “I assume you expect me to take that infernal thing to the stables?”

“Where is Melianna?” Desaunius snapped, offended. Melianna was Lady Atara’s servant, studious and prompt. Desaunius was perturbed by whoever the woman was and why she was trespassing in Orlondir. She didn’t have a chance to ask as the woman retreated across the marble of the Grand Hall and disappeared. Several moments later, someone appeared behind Desaunius and almost made her jump.

“I’ll take the horse now,” Melianna said as her hands slid over the reins. “You came to see Lady Atara?”

Desaunius glanced at her as she rounded the horse, mousy brown hair blowing in the breeze. “Yes, I have something to discuss with her.” She sucked in a breath as she recalled the words of the Great Oak. Memories of the First Era flitted through her mind, but she quelled them. It had been centuries since the wrath of Valtanyana; war wasn’t something to fear. She coughed as a means of clearing her mind. Melianna held out her hand towards the Grand Hall.

“She’s in the study in the lower west wing. Do you wish me to escort you?”

Desaunius shook her head. She had been to the lady’s study enough times to know where it was, and the lay of the castle was rather easy to remember. Melianna softly clucked as she led the horse across the courtyard towards the stables. Desaunius didn’t waste time as she glided across the marble and ducked under the archway to the lower west wing. She passed the lavatory and took a left when the corridor reached a dead end. At the end of the hall, with its burgundy carpets and crystal torches along the glowing stone walls, was Lady Atara’s study. She knocked on the polished wood and waited.

It slid open a crack and Desaunius pushed herself into the room. The door closed behind her. There was an atrium behind the door, then an arch, and then the room opened into a large cavern with a high ceiling. There was a window that looked out to the courtyard on the far side, a bureau to the right with a mirror, and on the left was a fireplace. The logs snapped and crackled within. There was an altar along the back wall and colorful pillows arranged in various areas for sitting.

Atara sat on the wide windowsill, an ivory knitted shawl pulled across her shoulders, her hazel eyes focused on the courtyard. Auburn hair flowed down her back, so shiny it glimmered in the pale light of the room. She wore a rose-colored dress that fell to her ankles, her feet bare. Desaunius cleared her throat and Atara glanced at her, a lazy expression on her face.

“You came without a messenger,” she said as she dropped her knees off the windowsill and pushed herself gingerly to her feet. She was much taller than Desaunius, at least by a head, if not more. She wandered over to the bureau and pulled out a drawer, lighting a stick of incense with her fingers and placing it in a holder in front of the mirror.

Desaunius glared at her. “I had no time to send a messenger. And you don’t look busy.”

Atara hummed thoughtfully and put her hands together. “No, I’m not occupied.”

“Then you have time to listen to my dilemma,” Desaunius said.

Atara stretched her hand towards a cluster of pillows. “Come sit. I’ll have Melianna bring some tea.” She went to gesture to her servant, who was nowhere near them, but Desaunius held up a hand.

“I won’t sit,” she said, her voice so thin and papery it almost cracked. “And you will understand me.” Despite Atara’s station on Avristar, Desaunius was older and wiser. She was vexed by Atara’s dreamy presence. Atara was smarter than she acted; her lack of seriousness bothered her.

Atara grasped her elbow with one hand and narrowed her eyes. “Speak, and I will tell you what I see.” On top of her sovereignty, Atara had always been a gifted seer and healer. Her adepts in the Lands of Men always benefited from her guidance and foresight.

Desaunius took in a breath and closed her eyes for a moment, the heady scent of dragon’s blood wafting through the room. “My apprentice Kaliel has recently been to the Great Oak.”

Atara let her arms drop to her sides. “And this is why you did not send a messenger?”

Desaunius pulled her jaw taut. She squeezed her fist, and lifted her chin so she could see Atara better. She was finished with toying with the Lady of the Land. If she needed to be startled then she would be. “A seed to bloom knows not if it will be, a flower or a weed, and cannot change its form once matured. Bloom the weed of temptation and expire the great garden of life. Bloom the flower of sacrifice and sustain the great garden in strife.” Her words bounced off the walls in the vast chamber.

Atara’s eyes widened. She backed up and slumped into a heap of pillows, her lips mouthing words, but no sound came out.

“You tell me what you think it means,” Desaunius said evenly as she crossed her arms.

“A catalyst,” Atara replied, her voice low. She glanced at Desaunius, her eyes full of sorrow. “Your apprentice will play a great part in a war.” She whispered the last word, as though she was afraid to say it.

“My apprentice is only a child.”

“She won’t be one forever. We can’t be sure where—”

“Obviously in the Lands of Men.” She didn’t want to entertain the thought of Avristar under attack.

Atara dully nodded. She pushed herself out of the pillows and began pacing the floor. “Yes, of course, the Lands of Men, but the parable, it means a great deal more.” Her lips curled around her fist as she closed her eyes, appearing deep in thought.

Desaunius frowned then smiled with amusement. “You would revel in the glory, wouldn’t you?” She snorted and crossed her arms. “This isn’t about glory or champions of Avristar. Kaliel is …” She was unsure how to explain it. The girl was shy, clumsy and mischievous. She didn’t have any of the qualities of a warrior much less a champion. It was hard to see her as anything but fragile and naïve.

“It doesn’t matter. The Great Oak is never wrong,” Atara said.

“Do you think it believes what you do about the girl?”

Atara’s eyes widened then settled into apparent denial. “That she’s a Flame? No, and it’s nearly impossible.”

Desaunius gulped. “Yes, with there being only nine of them in all the lands.”

Atara let out a breath. “I didn’t mean that. Yes, the odds are slim, but why would we need one? We have the armies, the Valtanyana are locked away.”

Desaunius glanced at the incense on the bureau, the chalky ash tumbling onto polished mahogany. She didn’t want to follow Atara’s train of thought at all. “The Flames have only been used in great wars.”

“And Avristar has not seen war in thousands of years. Which is why she couldn’t possibly be a Flame,” Desaunius said. “The idea is ridiculous.”

Atara straightened her back and stopped pacing; she made eye contact with Desaunius, her mouth set in a straight line. “Either way, she is a catalyst, someone who will make a difference. I think it best that she comes to me, trains here in Orlondir. Evennses is a place for children and she won’t be a child when she leaves Avristar.”

Desaunius hardened her gaze. “I always hoped she would never leave.”

Atara smiled faintly. “She’ll be strong when she does. Come, will you stay for tea in the courtyard?”

“Nay, I should return and deliver the news,” Desaunius said as Atara drifted out of the room, entering into her dreamy façade again. She grimaced to herself: there was no way Kaliel would ever survive the Lands of Men the way she was now, and the way the Great Oak made it sound, she wouldn’t have a choice. She followed the Lady of Avristar through the corridors towards the courtyard.

• • •

Kaliel got tired of searching. She hadn’t found any of the ingredients for the tea and she was becoming irritated that Pux wasn’t in his usual spot.

“Pux!” she called into the forests.

No answer.

The birds chirped back at her and a rabbit darted through the trees. She sighed and threw her hands up in the air. She turned around in circles and then planted her back firmly against a tree trunk. Just as she was sinking down to the ground a hand reached for her shoulder and tapped it hard. Her head whipped in the direction of the tap, but no one was there.

“Boo!” Pux jumped out from the other side of the tree and startled her. She screamed and snapped her head in the opposite direction.

“You! I’ve been looking everywhere!”

Pux grinned arrogantly while she glowered at him. “The master of disguise.”

“How about I chase you back to Luenelle?” she shrieked.

Pux shuddered. “She doesn’t like me.”

“I know.” Kaliel frowned. She pushed her back off the tree. “I have to find herbs to make a tea. Would you like to help?” Her rotten mood from earlier faded away. When she was with Pux life was uncomplicated. She wished she could feel that way all the time.

“Sure, but I don’t know the names of any herbs.”

“All you need to do is tell me if you see any flowers or plants growing anywhere on the trail.”

Pux raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

“I’ll decide if I need them or not.”

He seemed to contemplate it. “Okay, I’m in. Where do we begin?”

She thought for a moment. “Was there anything behind that tree you jumped out from?”

“Mushrooms.”

“No, don’t need those.”

“Good because they were yummy.”

Her jaw dropped. “You ate them?”

He grinned from ear to ear. “I turned them green first.”

Kaliel turned, disgusted by the childishness of her friend. A day ago she would have thought it was funny, but today it just made her frustrated. She peered between two trees, trying to look for chamomile flowers, but there was only grass and brush behind them. Pux skipped along behind her, using his magic to turn leaves different colors.

“That’s odd,” he said.

“What is?”

“Leaves.”

Kaliel cocked her head to one side in confusion.

“They only turn yellow, brown, red, orange and green.”

She poked her head through another break in the trees and looked around. She was almost certain there was nothing there until her eyes caught sight of them. There was a perfect batch of chamomile flowers growing just out of her peripheral vision. She turned back to Pux. “What color were you trying for?”

“Blue.” He caught up to her and watched while she struggled awkwardly to fit her leg around the overgrown stump that forced the two trees together. Once she was on the other side she looked back at him.

“What happened?” She rummaged around on the ground, picking up the flowers. She held them like a bouquet as she tried to climb back over the stump.

He scrunched up his nose. “It turned to a puke color.”

She hopped down and made eye contact with him as she put the bouquet of flowers in the basket he held out for her. “Maybe the land is telling you not to mess with it.”

Pux frowned. “Maybe I’ll turn the sky pink.”

“Not that you could!” Kaliel laughed. Normally she would have encouraged him to try it and she would have warned him about getting caught for doing so, but today she found him more impish than naïve.

“How many days are left on the countdown?” he asked, changing the subject.

Kaliel shot him a glance. “I went yesterday.”

“Oh.”

She noticed the bitterness in his tone as she continued to scour the lands for herbs. Luenelle was right: he wasn’t better for more than holding the basket. She plodded up the path without answering him and he came shuffling after her like a forlorn animal. “Nothing is different,” she reassured him. She found a patch of lemongrass growing near a tree and carefully ripped up a few strands.

“What did the Great Oak say to you?” He sounded wary.

Kaliel brushed him off. “I can’t tell you.” She spotted a hibiscus flower on the south side of a tree.

“I told you mine.”

“Yours was different. Mine was …” Her face burned with embarrassment and fear.

“It was bad?”

She sighed. “Desaunius went to Orlondir.”

Pux’s eyes widened like someone had punched him in the ribs. Stumbling back, he tripped on his own feet and landed on his back, his elbows digging into the mud. “You’ll leave me,” he squeaked.

Kaliel couldn’t help the knots forming in her stomach. He was older than she was, but he acted much younger. She knelt down beside him and threw her arms around him, squeezing like she needed him to breathe. “Not right away. Luenelle hasn’t been called. She’ll leave long before me.”

Pux seemed unusually disturbed by this. “You aren’t a child anymore.”

She giggled. “I haven’t grown up in one day.” She was trying her best to calm his nerves so she could forget all about the Great Oak and concentrate on making chamomile tea. On the inside her emotions were crashing within her and she hoped he wouldn’t speak the words she was thinking.