Author: C.K. Donnelly
Date: 2020-07-05 04:00:00+00:00
Description: Not all gifts are blessings... Sixteen-summer-old Mirana Pinal is one of the few to have ever possessed all three magical powers of the Aspects. She has terrifying visions, however, that if she wields her powers, her homeland of Kinderra will be destroyed-through her. Desperate to keep her dark fate from unfolding, she tells no one about her destructive destiny but her beloved Teague Beltran, a young apprentice herbsman born without powers. When Mirana receives alarming premonitions of an enemy attack on Kinderra, she is forced to reveal to her people that she is a Trine to warn them of the im
Publisher: Kibbe Creative Media, LLC

TRINE RISING

THE KINDERRA SAGA:

BOOK 1

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By C.K. Donnelly

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2020 by C.K. Donnelly

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner
without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a
book review.

First ebook edition 2020

PHOTO CREDIT: Mike Harvey/Peak Image Photo

MAP CREDIT: Emily Rakić /Emily’s World of Design

COVER CREDIT: Jennifer Givner/Acapella Book Cover Design

ISBN 978-1-7350518-0-2 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-7350518-1-9 (Softcover)

ISBN 978-1-7350518-2-6 (ebook)

Published in the United States by Kibbe Creative Media, LLC

www.ckdonnelly.com

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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It is said that writing a novel is a solitary profession. For me, nothing could be further from the truth. So many people have helped me for years—and in some cases, decades—create the book you now hold. I want to thank my editors Ann Videan, Elizabeth Evans, and Susan Barnes, for taking a chance on this little book that just wouldn’t die, and helping to make it the best it could be; my Beta Reader Tribe, especially Carrie, Jonah, Tim, Angela, Darlene, Heather, Lisa, and Anat; my incredible designers Jennifer Givner and Emily Rakić, who made Mirana and Teague, and their world of Kinderra come alive; my public relations representative Sherry Butler, for letting the world know this novel exists; my photographer Mike Harvey, for his magical camera and even more magical talent; my lawyers Wendy Anderson and Leia Dingott, for making sure this world I’ve created is truly my world; and a special thanks to my husband Wayne, whose tireless support helped me endure so many times when I wanted to quit. Gratas Oë!

Luke 1:46-48, 49

“My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior. For he has looked upon his handmaid’s lowliness, behold...The Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.”

Table of Contents

Contents

THE KINDERRA SAGA

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Luke 1:46-48, 49

Table of Contents

Map of Kinderra

Two Rivers Map

The Trine Prophecy

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

THE KINDERRA SAGA

Kin-Deren—1st Hall. Standard: gold field with red eagle

Trak-Calan—2nd Hall. Standard: gold field with green tiger

Rün-Taran—3rd Hall. Standard: white field with blue capricorn

Tash-Hamar—4th Hall. Standard: purple field with red leopard

Kana-Akün—5th Hall. Standard: green field with gold hart

Varn-Erdal—6th Hall. Standard: white field with red horse

Jad-Anüna—7th Hall. Standard: blue field with gold lion

Sün-Kasal—8th Hall. Standard: red field with white bull

Dar-Azûl—9th Hall. Standard: black field with argent silver griffin

THE KINDERRA SAGA

Glossary of Terms and Words

Map of Kinderra

Two Rivers Map

The Trine Prophecy

“‘And it shall come to pass that Kinderra will cry out in such agony as to deafen even her birth. The chosen shall be like a ship without a keel. Aspect will appear where there was none. Light will be dark; dark will be light. One will come forth, Thrice-cursed, to destroy. One will come forth, Thrice-blessed, to rebuild. End and beginning in one, in both. Only hope shall remain.’”

—The Book of Kinderra

CHAPTER 1

“Great need and greater love can beget miracles.”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

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“If I don’t understand my ciphers, I won’t get to be a seer. They’ll never let me choose an amulet,” Taddie whimpered, his breaths turned to little puffs of steam in the chill air of the stable.

Mirana Pinal bit her bottom lip and furrowed her brows in amused concern at the little boy’s predicament. “You were born a seer. Nothing and no one can take away the gift the Aspects Above gave you.”

She knew that all too well.

She scooted across the stable’s hay-strewn floor to sit closer to him and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “It’s not the end of the world. It’s just a cipher problem.”

“If I can’t understand my numbers,” he sniffed back more tears, “how will I understand my seer’s visions when I’m older?”

Mirana waved her hand, sending a small current of intent to the lamps with the gesture. They flared to life dispelling some shadows and creating others as evening descended outside of the stable.

“Taddie, you’re only six summers old. I think you have some time to learn your numbers. You saw Falantir in shambles just like me. Just like the rest of the seers.”

Taddie wiped his nose with a sleeve. “Ai, but you were the only one who saw it was the Ken’nar.” He was right. Her interpretation of that vision led to the order extending her father’s tour of duty. And may have sent him to his death.

She tensed, her own throat tight with emotion she could not let come. No. She would know if he died.

The boy blinked, his tears momentarily forgotten. “Did I say something wrong?”

Ai. “No, of course not. I just—never mind.”

He lowered his watery sapphire-blue gaze. “I’m stupid.”

“You are not stupid. Just because you don’t understand something, doesn’t make you stupid. If anyone is failing here, it’s me. I’m not doing a good job explaining things to you.”

Taddie played with a piece of straw. “You never fail at anything.”

He could not be more wrong.

Mirana laughed anyway. Maybe he would think she thought his comment humorous.

“My maithe has us older scholaire’e teaching you younger ones to help us both learn our lessons. So, like it or not, we’re in this together. Let’s try something different.”

She searched the monstrous stable for something that would help the little boy learn the simple sum. The horse paddocks made up one quarter-mile-long arm of the massive, multi-storied square of the learning hall, all guarded by the imposing watchtower, Jasal’s Keep. The three aisles of paddocks housed hundreds of warhorses for Kin-Deren province’s army. Despite the wet snow falling outside, the bodies and breath of the horses made the stable nearly comfortable. And Taddie loved horses.

Horses. Horses running. Fast. Fleeing.

“Scholaira Miri?”

Mirana pushed back the particular nudge the Seeing Aspect made when it wished to antagonize her. She rubbed her eyes. Horses charged all the time. It was nothing.

She rose to her feet, brushing at the straw clinging to her heavy cotton leggings. “Come with me.” The boy followed her to the first paddock of one of the long stable aisles. “All right. Let’s try it again, except we’re going to use the horse stalls this time. Four plus six.”

Ten. It was important. The most important number there could be.

The probing sense of an impending vision prodded her brain. Ten? What the heck was ten? And why was it so important?

Taddie cocked his head and scowled. “Are you all right?”

She took a quick breath, pushing back her irritation. She didn’t want to see a vision. They were seldom good ones. “I’m fine.”

He nodded and dragged the heel of a hand over his nose and continued through the riot of pale-yellow curls on his head.

Mirana frowned. “Ugh. And when we’re done, it’s off to the bathhouse with you.” He shrugged.

She strode down the row of stalls, stopping at the fourth one. “I want you to tell me how many horses I need to pass to reach the answer.” She began to walk backward.

“Keep going.” He waved her on.

Horses whuffled and neighed as she passed. A gray palfrey stuck its nose out over the paddock gate and blew out a greeting.

“Not now, Bankin,” Mirana stroked the filly’s velvet snout, “we’re busy.”

Taddie laughed. “Go farther.” She continued past a few more stalls. “Stop. There.”

The paddock was empty. It was Ashtar’s crib, her father’s warhorse. Her paithe hadn’t been home for most of the last Reckoning. Fourthmonth in the new Reckoning was only a sevenday away. He and his strike force had been sent to reconnoiter just what had befallen Falantir so far to the north. Because of the interpretation of her prescience. Her paithe was all right. Of course, he was. He was the most skilled defender in Kinderra. Nothing could take him down.

Right?

“That’s ten,” the little seer boy piped.

Father. Her paithe.

Ten. Ten beasts. All claws and fangs.

She shook her head to dispel the image. Had Taddie called it somehow? “Well done.”

“I wanna do another one.”

“All right.” The stable boy fidgeted up and down on his toes, his face expectant. “If this stall is ‘ten,’ show me the horse in the stall of ten minus seven. Only this time, don’t speak the name or point. I want you to call to my mind an image of the horse.”

Taddie thrust out his lip, this time in a thoughtful expression. The lip pulled back in when his mouth turned in a smile. He held her gaze intently with his own. An image of a magnificent stallion with a mahogany coat so dark it was nearly black popped up before her mind’s eye.

“Excellent! See? You’re ciphering—and calling—just like a real seer.”

The young seer boy squealed with joy and ran over to her, throwing his arms around her waist. She brushed a blond curl from his eyes. “I knew you could do it.”

He grinned, turning his bright little face absolutely cherubic. “Gratas Oë, Mirana.”

She returned his smile. “Don’t thank me. You’re the one who did all the work.”

She walked over to the stallion. The steed tossed its head and sputtered. “Always a testy one, aren’t you, Traga.”

The massive stable door groaned on its hinges, all but drowning out the groan of the one who opened it. They both lifted their heads to greet the visitor. Mirana’s smile grew. So did the sudden warmth that spread through her.

“Ben dia, or should I say ‘ben nöc.’ That sleet out there is making this one miserable evening.” He shook the icy rain from his hair, the moisture making it look a darker shade of brown than it was.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s so bad.” She rushed over to him and took his hands, warming them in hers. “Teague, I’m so glad you’re home.” She pushed the hair out of his eyes, her smile not fading an inch. His grin matched hers, several freckles disappearing into the dimples of his smile. A giggle behind them reminded her they were not alone. People, presences, just about everything tended to fade into the background when she was with Teague. “Taddie, go help Herbsman Beltran with his horses.” She gave the stable boy a gentle push toward the mounts.

“Is that because you two want to go all mushy?” he asked as he took the horses’ reins.

“Yes,” Mirana nodded, “now, scoot.”

“Ew. I’m never having a girlfriend. Ever.” The little boy clicked his tongue and led the horses further into the stable’s interior.

“I’m not an herbsman just yet,” Teague said, watching Taddie disappear among the seemingly endless rows of paddocks, “but we did manage to collect a good supply of willow bark and even some callas leaves that had sprung up early.”

She stepped closer to her beloved herbsman’s apprentice. “I can’t believe you and your father stayed out an entire sevenday. What healing plants could you possibly find in this weather?”

“We would have stayed out longer.” He pulled his forest-green gaze away from her to stare at his boots. “My father’s Healing Aspect warned him we’ll be seeing a rise of grippe cases after this storm.”

Why was Teague sad? He did a good thing. Callas leaves were tiny and difficult to find. “But I’m certain it was your brilliant intellect that remembered callas plants grow at the base of willow trees.”

He laughed, however, he was anything but happy. “Brilliant intellect? I saved us with my brilliance from an epidemic of toothaches. Thank the Aspects Above.”

She lowered her head to meet his even lower gaze. “Have you ever suffered a toothache? I think finding the callas leaves is worthy of an herbsman.” When he lifted his head, she put a hand on his arm. “At least to me.”

She and Teague Beltran had been born within months of each other. And she cherished every single day of those nearly sixteen summers spent together.

He took her hand from his arm and held it. “How can I hate that pale color of snow on the ground so much when your silver eyes chase away any chill.”

Mirana raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be romantic?”

He smiled. “Ai.”

“Try again.”

“It’s better than ‘your black hair even makes coal beautiful.’”

She squeezed her eyes shut in a wince. “Not only is that perfectly dreadful, it doesn’t even make sense.”

He leaned closer. “If you don’t like the words from my lips, maybe you’ll prefer them this way.” He pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his.

“That’s much better,” she said through his kiss.

She reached up to cup his face. He said her eyes chased away his chill. Chill? What chill? She never felt cold in his arms.

Without lifting his lips from hers, he rushed her backward and into Ashtar’s empty stall—and tripped over the feed pail. They tumbled into the straw together, laughing.

“Somehow, I always imagined we’d be someplace more dung-free when you ravished me for the first time.” She hitched a thumb to the corner. Taddie had missed a spot.

His hazel eyes twinkled. “Ravish you? I’ve been nothing but a gentleman.”

She giggled. “Ai.” She kissed the faded freckles on his nose. “That’s been your problem all along.” She brushed his lips with hers.

“If this is the greeting I get from being gone just one sevenday, what would you do if I was gone ten?” He pulled her over to a cleaner corner of straw.

Ten.

The Seeing Aspect. Ten beasts. Grynwen. Twice the size of wolves. Black as midnight. Eyes as red as fresh blood. Long, pointed muzzles with uncounted long, pointed fangs. Carnivores charge out of the forest and leap upon a band of riders.

She stiffened. This time, there was no ignoring the vision as it forced itself before her mind’s eye.

“Mirana?”

Fangs shred flesh. Agony shreds nerves. The Healing Aspect. Bleeding, bleeding, away, away. Snow-white uniforms stained red with blood. Shrieks of pain, man, woman, beast.

“Miri, are you all right?”

Chill sleet falls, the same sleet, the same storm that’s outside now. The thick droplets sizzle on the smoldering carcasses. The Defending Aspect. A burning in her chest, burning, burning. She must release it through an amulet. Amulets fire. Defenders. A man with silver-frosted black hair and silver eyes turns. Screams. Falls. The forest stills. Ice and wet snowflakes fall. Like here.

Like now.

“Father!”

Mirana sat up out of Teague’s arms, shaking and sucking in rapid gasps.

“Mirana! What happened? Did I do—? I would never make you—Miri?”

“What? No—he’s dying!” she said, breathless.

Teague shook his head confusion. “Who?”

“My father. I have to reach him.” She sprang to her feet.

He sat back on his heels, looking up at her. “Isn’t he still in Kana-Akün? That’s more than a hundred leagues from here. I know your mind-calling ability is better than most, but that’s too far to reach anyone.”

“I know, but I’ve got to try.”

Teague stood. “We need to go to your mother with this.”

She shook her head. “There’s no time.” She curled her hands into fists and closed her eyes.

“Mirana,” he put a hand on her shoulder. “Your mother is prime of this province. You have to tell her.”

“Later. Right now, I have to warn my father or he’s going to die.”

She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind. Too many horses too close. She growled in frustration. Mirana tore from the stable and into wet snow falling in the gray twilight of the learning hall’s courtyard, Teague rushing behind her.

The learning hall complex housed hundreds of steeds and people, but in the courtyard at least, they weren’t right on top of her. And there simply wasn’t time to run out of Deren and leave the city behind for better isolation.

She sank to her knees on the icy cobblestones and centered herself again. She pushed her senses beyond the murmur of minds the way one would listen for a single voice in a crowd.

... Father ... Where are you? ... Answer me ...

She searched for his presence, his essence, a life force singing all he was within the grace of the Aspects Above. His life, his power, sang in her veins, as he and her mother gave her life. And if she didn’t find him in time, only the echo of him that resided within her would be all that was left. She would never let that happen.

... Father ... Please ... Answer me ...

The jumble of innumerable minds and presences swirled around her as she searched for one and only one. So very impossible. She needed more focus, more power.

An amulet.

The thought bloomed in her mind, and she shrank from it. A bond with an amulet would be demanded of her when she saw eighteen summers, the duty expected of all those who possessed the gifts of the Aspects. The pure gemstone of an amulet would confer upon its bearer the ability to focus the Aspects so tightly, he or she could accomplish actions far beyond the limited control of innate power. As for her, she would accomplish amazing things. Terrible things.

Mirana let her Seeing Aspect spread through her. Fragments of visions, premonitions, prescience drifted as they would through her consciousness. She could only pray something of her father would rise above the tantalizing yet useless information her Seeing Aspect now showed her. Without an amulet, she was at the mercy of her powers, unable to control what—and who—she wanted to see. With an amulet, however, Kinderra would be at her mercy. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Not that. Anything but that. Unless there was no other way to save his life, she would not even touch an amulet. She still had time, two summers, before she faced such a decision. Her father still had time. Just.

Would he be in the forests of Kana-Akün searching the Ken’nar, or on the plains of that province’s southern border, on his way home?

Her mother nor the other seers had made no mention of the information he and his strike force had discovered regarding Falantir, so he was not yet far enough away from the Ken’nar to safely contact them. He must still be in the forest.

Mirana’s powers might be trapped within her from any serious manifestation, but she didn’t have to “see” with just one power. The Aspects Above never bestowed more than one gift, never gave more than just the Defending, Seeing, or Healing Aspect alone to an individual. She gritted her teeth. Unless they gave all three.

Gifts. What gifts? Having all three powers of the Aspects made her a Trine, one of the few ever to be born. But gifts? No. Her powers were a curse, or at least they might be someday. She had seen what would happen when she took up an amulet, the horror of destruction at her hands etched permanently in her mind. So she never told a soul what those so-called “gifts” made her, except for Teague. Sometimes, she regretted telling him. She wished she didn’t know herself.

Images, hazy with uncertainty, flit past her mind’s eye. She pushed away Teague’s warm energies and the cold of the icy pellets of sleet hitting her skin, and awakened her Defending and Healing Aspects, letting them listen for her father with her Seeing Aspect.

The preternatural wariness of the Defending Aspect gave rise to an awareness of where life hummed. Tall, thick conifers rose from ground hardened by winter. Icy, wet snow fell in spattering taps on the ground and coated naked black branches. Mice scurried down holes under barren shrubs. A rabbit paused its browsing through the prickly pine needles of the forest floor. A deer, no, a buck picked its way through the darkening woods. It stood motionless except for its ears. They swiveled, listening.

Mirana did not see the stag as much as she fathomed its essence. Unable to draw more of its presence to her without an amulet, she forced herself to remain patient and let the animal’s being fill her. It was hungry, starving from the cruel northern winter. Her Healing Aspect told her of its want. A want desperate enough for two animals. Two exact animals.

Her hope swelled with the odd sensation. Perfection did not exist in nature. Two completely identical presences simply could not be. Every creation had flaws except for the Aspects Above themselves. She could attest to that.

Mirana’s heart hammered in her chest as she thrust the thought away. The life of the buck mirrored itself, as did some rabbits, mice, a weasel. Duplicates of animal essences, exact in every way except reality, shimmered within the Aspects. They were too far, too faint for her to detect any more than a mere whisper. But they were there. Only a person with the powers of the Aspects could manifest such a duplication, a duplication with one purpose—to hide one’s life energies—and none were better at performing the technique than those possessing the Defending Aspect. Defenders like her father.

She opened her mind further. If her father had cloaked his presence, she would never be able to call specifically to his mind. She could call to anyone in the vicinity of the false animals, but any Aspected mind would hear her telepathic communication.

She froze. What if the false presences weren’t her father and his patrol group? What if they were Ken’nar cloaking themselves? And if she called out? Their enemies—the latest generation to engage the Fal’kin in three thousand summers of bloodshed—would know he was near.

The Healing Aspect within her sought to bolster her failing strength. Sweat turned to cloying ice on her skin in the bitter air of the courtyard. She opened herself deeper to the strange sensations of life in the distant forest. Hunger and wariness. And pain. Exhaustion. These people had fought, had been injured. So had the Ken’nar in sacking Falantir, but they now had a garrison, a place to rest, to eat, to heal. No, these Aspected who masked themselves had not paused to recover. That meant urgency. An urgency born of necessity. They had to flee Kana-Akün to warn Kin-Deren province, her home, the Ken’nar were on the doorstep.

A sudden, bloodthirsty counterpoint slashed the soft harmony of animal presences within the Healing Aspect.

Grynwen.

Some said grynwen hunted with some primitive form of the Aspects. Even if the rumor were true, if her father and his strike force had cloaked themselves, the predators would sense mice, not people. They couldn’t divine the duplications of essences much less search for them, could they?

Before her mind’s eye, the grynwen pack loped on long legs with primal confidence toward her father and his men and women, the drumming of their paws echoing through her Defending Aspect. Why? Their bellies were full. They had no young to defend, no blooded prey to bring down. These were not normal beasts. They hunted, she sensed, but not for food.

They wanted to kill. Because they liked it.

If the beasts hadn’t tracked her father with ordinary senses, hadn’t hunted him for food, they couldn’t possibly know his location. Unless they were sent. Unless they had been given her father’s position and sent to kill him.

To warn her father, she’d have to call wide as if she were shouting across a crowded room. Any Aspected mind—Fal’kin or Ken’nar—in the local area would hear. The risk was worth her paithe’s life.

The Seeing Aspect now joined with her Healing Aspect and Defending Aspect, merging of its own accord within her. It spoke of no future skein of time, no distant, uncertain knowing. It demanded her attention, present, real. Now.

... Father! ... Grynwen! ... Ride! ...

She poured as much of herself as she could into her mind’s voice, into those words. The Defending Aspect burned within her chest at the resounding need trapped within the prison of her body.

The illusion of the second stag shattered. Shock and disbelief exploded in her mind. A presence surrounded her consciousness, full of awe, of love. A moment later, the presence disappeared as if it had never existed, replaced once more by a buck.

But it was enough.

The raw need to send a warning slipped away. Her chest tightened, her lungs could not draw air. The presences, even the Aspects faded. Something hard, rough, and cold pressed against her cheek and temple.

“Mirana!” a voice cried.

Hands, strong yet gentle, lifted her and placed her right palm flat against a surface, solid and warm. A thud, pulsing with life. A heartbeat. Teague’s heartbeat. His life sang out to her Healing Aspect, reviving her.

“Mirana, wake up!” His confident fingers pressed her neck, her heartbeat throbbing against his touch. She looked up at him as she lay in his arms on the courtyard’s frozen cobblestones, her breath now wreathing his face in the cold air.

He blew out loud exhale. “Thank the Aspects Above.” He stroked her cheek and blinked back the sleet. “Miri, you dropped like a stone. You didn’t move. I couldn’t wake you. What happened?”

The clatter of small boots on cobblestones interrupted his reply.

“What’s wrong? What happened? I heard you both!” Taddie said as he approached.

Teague frowned. “I didn’t even yell.”

The stable boy shook his head. “No. Your minds.”

Teague’s frown deepened.

“I’m fine,” Mirana said as Teague helped her to sit. “I just slipped on some ice, that’s all.” She caught her herbsman’s eye. Calling to him would do no good. He couldn’t hear her, and Taddie most certainly would. He made a slight movement with his head. Few would notice the simple gesture, but such responses had become a language all their own. She hated making Teague a party to her lie, but she couldn’t very well have Taddie run to the hall seers who would, in turn, run to her mother with the truth of what she had just done. Far too many questions would need to be answered if that happened. “Now, get back inside before you catch a cold,” Teague replied. “You don’t want me to use the nasal pot on you again to clear your stuffy nose, do you?”

Taddie’s eyes grew as round as trenchers at the suggestion of such a horror. “Aspects, no!” He turned and pelted back inside the stable.

Once the boy was gone, Teague asked again, “What happened?”

Mirana looked up into his forest-colored eyes. “I found him.”

The watchtower of Jasal’s Keep loomed behind her beloved, dark and foreboding, its crenulated pinnacle crown lost to the icy precipitation and the gathering night.

Her father was safe. But for how long?

CHAPTER 2

“A warning often comes, not with the clang of swords, but with the softest of whispers.”

—The Book of Kinderra

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Kaarl Pinal tightened his grip around the blood-red garnet amulet hanging at his chest. At his touch, the Defending Aspect rose sharply within him. He opened himself to the union his soul made with the amulet, a connected sense of rightness he would find with no other crystal.

He focused deep within himself, reaching for the power that lay there, a twinning of the harmonics of his life with that of the gemstone. His Aspect and his amulet became one—separate yet insoluble—as he willed his power out through the pure red crystal. A tongue of vermilion lightning engulfed the last of the ferocious grynwen as it moved toward him for the kill. The deadly light reduced four hundred pounds of muscle and sinew to a pile of blackened bones and ash, leaving the cold rain to hiss on the burning remains.

“How could they have found us? We were hidden,” Seer Binthe Lima shouted to him from farther in the forest clearing, her breath rising like smoke in the frigid forest. “Unless my Aspect is as frozen as I am, I never saw them.” She grimaced with disgust as she yanked her long knife free from the throat of one of the carnivores.

He shook his head. Cold air stabbed his lungs as he breathed deep from the exertion of the vicious but brief scuffle. “The Ken’nar. It seems they’re training mongrels to do their dirty work now.” He had no proof, of course, just an intuition honed from summers of warfare.

“Then they did see us from Falantir’s ramparts,” Morgan Jord said, clawing the ice from the beard outlining his face with one hand, the other still gripping his amulet.

Visions from seers in Kin-Deren province suspected the Ken’nar had sacked the city. Kaarl and his troops had proved their suspicions were correct.

Binthe’s shoulders fell. “I made sure we left no trail.” She clutched the emerald amulet that hung about her neck. “The vision of the forest battle I saw was the Ken’nar assault on Falantir. I did not see the grynwen. I should have.”

The defender second stepped closer to the seer woman, his blue eyes hard with guilt. “Binthe, I know this wasn’t your fault. I would never blame you.”

Kaarl held up his hand, silencing his lieutenant. They had more pressing problems, and he wasn’t about to waste the advantage the warning call had given them.

“These beasts had nothing to do with you, Binthe.”

No one should have been able to find him to call a warning, for his presence was hidden. No one. He had wanted to reply, desperately, but he dared not. He could not risk the discovery of his men and women. Nor the one who called him.

He turned to the rest of his unit. “Everyone, back to your horses.”

He scanned the forest as he perched a boot in the stirrup of his warhorse. A mount remained without a rider.

“Gannah!”

He ran over to a fallen defender woman slumped against a fire-blackened conifer and knelt next to her. Clumps of singed fur, bone, and ash smoldered at her feet. She clutched a deep wound in her side.

“Commander, tell Jord to move his arse next time when I tell him to get down.” She tried to laugh, but her labored breathing turned it into a wheeze.

Kaarl pressed his hand over hers. Fresh, hot blood oozed over her ebony skin, saturating his glove and steaming in the cold air. Her armor and chain mail had been torn away from her flank. He clenched his jaw. More grynwen and Aspects Above only knew what else would be drawn by the scent of blood. “Damned beast thought he could nip you, did he?”

“I’ll be fine. I just need a moment.” Her eyelids fluttered.

Binthe and Morgan crouched down. The seer placed her arm around the defender woman, supporting her. “Gannah? Siba?” Her sea-green eyes held his, intense with concern when the woman didn’t reply.

Morgan’s gaze darted around the thick woods. “Do we have time to cauterize the wound?”

The woman was hardly more than a girl but was already one of the best defenders her far-flung southern province of Jad-Anüna had ever sent to his strike team. She had her whole life ahead of her. Kaarl nodded. “Ai.”

“No,” Gannah breathed. Her hand fell away, revealing torn flesh and ribs, shockingly white in the twilight gloom. “Go. I’ll cover your backs. You have to get word to Deren that Falantir has fallen.”

“Gannah—”

Binthe sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. Her hand flew to her amulet, verdant light spilling from between her fingers. ... Riders ... The seer called an image to his mind’s eye.

He fought a gasp of his own. “There must be several dozen.”

... Fifty ... she called again, her lids remaining shut. He knew better than to ask her to speak when his battle seer was working a vision.

“Can you tell who they are?” Morgan asked. “Maybe some of the Fal’kin survived.”

The seer shook her head. ... They have black armor ...

Kaarl nodded, tensing his shoulders to hide the rising dread. Black armor. Ken’nar. The incessant war against their enemies had long ago erased panic but never the sinking dismay that came before a bloody fight. Panic would do nothing to protect Mirana and Desde, nor the Unaspected, those without powers whom he was sworn to guard.

“I thought I heard something earlier, just before the grynwen attacked. Do you think one of the Ken’nar scouts found us?” his lieutenant asked.

“No,” Binthe replied. She took a deep breath and pushed a lock of mist-darkened auburn hair away from her face. “I heard it, too. It seemed desperate.”

Kaarl stripped off his cloak and bunched it against Gannah’s side. “It was Mirana.”

Morgan’s eyes widened. “Your daughter? But how—?”

The injured woman lay slack in Binthe’s arms, her breathing jagged. Kaarl tugged his sword belt free and lashed it around her, holding the makeshift compress in place. “Her warning will be for naught if these riders find us.”

The Ken’nar were the ones who had laid the grynwen ambush, he was certain of it. The attack was never meant to wipe them out, only slow them so their sentries could finish them off.

The enemies of the Fal’kin for thousands of summers, the Ken’nar consumed everything in their path. They and their ruthless leader, the Dark Trine, sought to subjugate Kinderra with the Power from Without, a manipulation of their innate powers to steal life to fuel their Aspects through an amulet. Fal’kin, like himself, devoted themselves to protecting all of Kinderra through the Light from Within, directing only the powers the divine Aspects Above granted them at birth in communion with a crystal amulet.

His daughter had known about the ambush. She must have seen it. She found his mind when it should have been impossible to do so and called to warn him.

Kaarl cinched his belt tight around the dying defender, swallowing against rising bile in his throat from the fresh rush of blood over his hand. He and his fighters were only a handful of leagues from Falantir. Could those black-hearted bastards have heard something of his daughter’s warning call as Binthe and Morgan had? Could the Dark Trine?

He clamped down on the thought with the same strength the grynwen had on Gannah. Right now, he needed to get the nineteen men and women around him—and the information they carried—home.

... Binthe, take your unit and move left into the brush ... he called to the seer. ... Morgan, take your group and my horse, Ashtar, and go right ... If the Ken’nar think a pack of mangy curs can finish us, they’re about to learn differently ... Let’s see how they like to be ambushed ... The rest of you ... Hide yourselves and your presences ... Do not fire your amulets until I give the call ...

Kaarl scooped up Gannah in his arms and hurried into a copse of thick brambles. He looked down at the unconscious woman in his arms. She exhaled a wet, slow leak of breath.

... Stay with me, Gannah ... Please ... The woman’s eyelids fluttered but did not open. ... Your man waits for you in Deren ... You don’t want to keep him waiting, do you? ...

He strengthened his focus within himself and amplified outward more of the life energies of forest creatures thrumming around him. U’Nehíl, the “not nothing.” The technique had saved his life as often as his sword and his amulet. He tensed, bowstring-taut, ready to launch himself at this new threat, amulet in one hand, sword in the other.

Dozens of uniformed riders charged out of the frozen fog into the clearing. A tall, helmeted warrior on a black stallion emerged as fighters bearing the black-and-silver livery of Dar-Azûl province fanned out behind him.

Kaarl shot to his feet. “Tetric! Thank the Aspects! Hurry. We have wounded.” He waved the tall rider closer. He carried Gannah from the brambles as the Fal’kin reappeared from deeper in the woods.

Tetric Garis removed his helmet and quickly dismounted. “We followed the grynwen, thinking they might be tracking survivors who had fled Falantir.” He knelt beside the fallen young woman and grimaced as he peeled away the makeshift bandage.

“Defender, can you hear me?” He closed his eyes and gripped his dark silvery hematite amulet with one hand while placing the other over the gaping wound in the woman’s side. A glow emanated from the crystal. “Listen to my voice.”

The defender woman’s eyes flew open and she flailed her arms against the man’s ministrations as though fighting against some unseen foe. Kaarl struggled with her. “Gannah, stop. It will be all right. Lord Garis is here to help you.” He released her and stepped back, giving the tall rider room to work.

“Do not fight me. You will no longer be in pain.” Tetric gripped her wrists, immobilizing her.

Kaarl studied the man as he used the Healing Aspect on the injured woman. Fal’kin seers like Binthe Lima could peer into the skeins of time and anticipate an enemy’s sword strike. Others healed those broken and diseased of body far quicker than nature. Fal’kin defenders like he and the riders around him had the unique ability to release amulet fire. Nothing—not wood, not metal, not stone—could withstand the intense light of amulet fire. He frowned at the absolute futility of the Aspect at this moment.

Tetric, however, was something yet again. He held all three powers, an exceedingly rare Aspected known as a Trine—one of the few individuals in recorded history to be thrice blessed by the Aspects Above. More than once, Tetric’s presence alone had turned the tide of battle against the Ken’nar, sending them into retreat as he rode through the fray. He himself was known for his stature, but the Trine stood a few inches taller still. That only added to his formidable reputation.

At this moment, however, he cared nothing for the other man’s knowledge from the skeins of time, his amulet’s fire, or his imposing appearance. It was his Healing Aspect he so desperately needed now.

Morgan drew closer, followed by Binthe. “I had her under my cover,” the young defender said. “The grynwen—”

“Were everywhere,” Tetric finished, opening his eyes. He sat back on his heels. The wound in the defender woman’s flank had faded into pale scars across her dark skin, but she remained in the muddy, bloody, icy pine needles, her eyes open, fixed on nothing. He rubbed his face and gave a long exhale.

Kaarl cursed. This should not have happened. His troops were the best on the continent, with all the powers of the Aspects at their command. He had been warned they would be ambushed. Yet, somehow one of his defenders lay dead in the melting snow.

Fal’kin were created by the Aspects Above to protect all of creation and the Unaspected peoples. Or at least that’s what the ancient sages, who wrote the holy books, had said for three thousand summers. After decades at the battlefront, he wasn’t certain any longer if the Fal’kin, who had the blessings of the Aspects, could even protect themselves, let alone protect the Unaspected, who did not.

The forest stilled once more, save for the gentle pattering of rain on armor. Blood from the dead Fal’kin woman and the carnivores stained red the remaining shreds of crusty white snow. He wiped the sweat and blood from his eyes. He kept them closed for a moment, the emotion taking a few heartbeats longer to recede.

He rose wearily to his feet and opened his eyes. He reached to grasp the chain of Gannah’s amulet when the Trine stayed his hand.

“Leave it.”

The fallen woman’s amulet glowed, golden light from the yellow sapphire emanating between the man’s fingers. Was she still alive? No. He was being a fool. Tetric’s touch ignited it, not Gannah. A Trine could connect with any amulet, chosen or free, not just the one oh-so-ineffectual crystal that hung heavily from his own neck. “Her man will want it.”

“I will not remove it from her as if she were a criminal,” Tetric replied. “Her man. He will understand.”

Binthe stepped closer to Kaarl. The fair skin of her face grew paler against her cold-reddened cheeks. “Gannah and I came to the il’Kin together. Both of us were so far from home. I will bring the news of her death to her family.”

“I will send word to her family and her man in Jad-Anüna. That is my responsibility. Not yours.”

The heavy rain began to turn into ice once more, so many needles stinging his face. “We can do nothing more for her,” he said to the rest of his troops. “The scent of blood will draw more grynwen. We had best leave now.”

As he walked back to his mount, he said to Tetric, “How long have the Ken’nar been in Falantir?”

The Trine pursed his lips. “I would guess they’ve been there for some time. I sense no urgency among their minds.”

“Meaning they’ve settled in and aren’t expecting a counter-attack.” Kaarl sighed and lifted his head toward the waning daylight. He let his chin fall back down in a nod. “Where are the rest of your men and women?”

“Some are in the woods. Others in the thickets just outside. Where are the rest of yours?” Kaarl said nothing, letting a glare answer for him. The Trine shook his head slowly. “Do you still feel it is better to not unite our forces? How many more do you have to lose?”

Again, he let the question hang and climbed into Ashtar’s saddle, gritting his teeth against the cold stiffness in his body.

“We will ride with you to Deren,” the Trine said as he retrieved his helmet from the frozen ground. “There is much I would discuss with you and your prime.” He swung his long leg over the back of his mount. ... I heard her call as well ...

Kaarl cursed, the steam of his breath adding substance to the invective. The man would only follow up with inevitable questions. And that horrible little thought that her call had gone far beyond the immediate area pierced his brain like the tip of a stiletto. He snapped that sharp thought off before it could grow further.

Tetric trotted his horse next to Kaarl’s and gripped his arm, initiating a private connection to his mind. ... We were all under U’Nehíl ...

He jerked his arm away. ... Such communication is not possible ... He clicked his tongue, guiding his horse forward through the trees.

... It is possible ... For one who is more than a seer ...

He looked over his shoulder. “I know what you are insinuating.”

Tetric had not moved. “I am the only one in Kinderra who can be certain of it. You must let me test her.”

Kaarl reined his mount around to face the other man. “My daughter is a seer, Lord Trine. You know we misinterpreted her Seeing Aspect to be the Defending Aspect when she was a young child. It is not unheard of, especially for a child born so early before her time. And she certainly does not heal. Ai, she is uncommonly skilled, but she is nothing more than a seer.”

... Kaarl— ...

He drilled his silver gaze into Tetric. ... If the Dark Trine believed for one moment she was anything else, he would send every last one of his Ken’nar to kill her ... Her life would be in as much danger as your own ... I will never let that happen ... Never ...

He kicked his horse’s sides, leaving the Trine’s reply and the dead to the sleet.

CHAPTER 3

“What is power? Is it might of the sword? Wealth? Followers? Strength of the Aspects? No, it is the ability to decide when to use none of these.”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

––––––––

The Ain Magne led his horse away from the others as they made camp for the night. Irritation needled him like the dampness that leached through his cloak and under his armor. He must keep moving forward with his plans. Especially now, after the girl’s call. Which made this delay unnecessary.

He took a breath to calm himself. A pause in their ride might have been unnecessary for him but not for the others. Those with whom he traveled needed their rest more than he, as did his horse.

“My lord,” one of the defenders said as he jogged closer, “do you wish a guard to accompany you while you rest?”

He removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. “That won’t be necessary. I’m easing my horse from the ride. I’ll be back soon.” The young man nodded and returned to the camp.

He hung the helmet from straps on his horse’s saddlebag while the animal pawed at the crusty snow in search of grass. He pulled his cloak tighter against the incessant rain. The stallion did not prefer the company of others. He understood. He, too, often needed solitude.

My Lord. Ain Magne. The Great One.

He pressed his lips tight against his teeth in frustration. The men and women he led conferred these monikers upon him. The Fal’kin and the Unaspected whispered another name—the Dark Trine. Ai, he was a Trine, but he was not dark. Those who refused to augment their innate Light from Within with life forces pulled in by the Power from Without, those who preferred war to peace—they were the dark ones. Not he.

Titles were desired by those who needed to know where they stood in the hierarchy of order. He, however, stood at the head of the Ken’nar, and soon at the head of the Fal’kin as well. All of Kinderra. No one sat above him, except for the Aspects Above. He was not a deity, of course. He was not one of their godhead trinity. He was a man, yet he was no more like the men and women who surrounded him now than his stallion resembled a draft horse. They did not know him. In truth, no one did. One day, however, they would know and understand and accept.

The Ain Magne removed his horse’s saddle. He wiped some of the water from the stallion’s neck as a vague sense of discomfort from the animal returned to his mind mediated by his Healing Aspect. The beast was not a companion and certainly not a pet, but a tool, even a weapon, one of the most valuable he had. Because of that, he lavished attention on his mount. He removed a water skin from a saddlebag and took a drink. He would eat later after he had attended to his horse.

Securing Falantir, the capital of Kana-Akün province, had been a costly affair. Costly in terms of lives. Costly in terms of something almost more precious: time. He pursed his lips tighter and, again, an ember of frustration burned in him. He had no one to blame but himself. The Kana-Aküni forces had put up more resistance than anticipated. In his hubris, he had not followed his Sight far enough, a mistake he thought he was long past making. Like hubris. He was not above learning from his mistakes, however. It would not happen again.

The Ain Magne led his horse away farther still, shouldering the heavy saddle. He glanced back at the camp. There would be no fires tonight with the sleet. No fires also meant he could melt into the gloomy darkness, wrapped in dark leather and armor and U’Nehíl.

He set the saddle down on the ground and reached out to search the Aspects for the mind of his seer second. The young man was leagues away in Falantir with the remainder of his forces. Although he knew the seer’s mind as well as his own, the distance still made such contact difficult. Difficult, ai, but hardly impossible.

Like his horse, his servant was another exceedingly important tool. The young seer’s sensitivity toward divining visions, and his interpretations of them, were extraordinarily accurate. His servant was also another source of his frustration. A most infuriating one at that.

... Eö hac, my lord ... I am here ... his lieutenant’s mind-voice returned.

... Your grynwen attack—one I did not order—was not successful ... the Ain Magne called.

... Pinal and his lackeys reached the bulwarks of Falantir and our garrison here ... I saw an opportunity ... I was merely acting on your desires ...

The Ain Magne ground his teeth. ... You have no idea what my desires are ...

... Forgive me, Lord Trine ... I exist but for your will ... I had no right— ...

He sent a searing reprimand into his second’s mind, his Healing Aspect feeding on his lieutenant’s very life force, pulling at it, drawing it from the seer to inflame the young man’s nerves. ... How dare you even presume to make such a move without my orders? ... Did it not occur to you that I might have wanted the il’Kin to glimpse our presence there? ... Knowing something of my might would more likely draw the Fal’kin out in our next engagement ...

... Forgive me! ... Please! ... I beg of you! ...

Ai, sometimes his seer second and others under his command needed to be taught a harsh lesson, but inflicting pain for its own sake repulsed him. He seldom abused the Healing Aspect in such a fashion.

The Ain Magne loosened his hold on his second and blew out his breath. He had spent more than fifty summers learning forbearance. His second, having seen but twenty-two summers, still had lessons to learn.

His stallion nickered at his loud exhale. He drew his hand down his horse’s fetlock, as much to calm himself as his mount. He lifted the hoof to examine it.

His seer’s mind, soft with repentance, nudged his own. ... Shall I eliminate the il’Kin who survived? ... Say the word, and even their amulets will not be found ...

... No ... I will deal with Kaarl Pinal and the il’Kin soon enough ...

Kaarl Pinal. He threw down his horse’s hoof. The name filled him with as much vexation as respect. When his mount tossed its head in annoyance, he stroked the animal’s flank.

For summers, the Ain Magne had fought against Pinal and studied him on the battlefield. Not just his skills and tactics but him. He knew the man’s many strengths as well as his weaknesses. The defender showed far fewer of those, but they were much more important. Like the use of a man’s own life to fuel the Power from Without, a man’s weaknesses were weapons to be used against him. He now knew which particular weakness would be the man’s undoing.

... We have lost too much time in capturing Falantir ... he called to his servant.

... Allowing the il’Kin to remain is not a wise move, my Trine ...

The Ain Magne smiled without humor at his second’s impudence. Perhaps his servant’s usefulness was growing less useful. He cocked his head to one side, stretching the muscles in his neck to relieve the returning tension. For now, he required the young seer’s Aspect as well as his brutally efficient talents with a blade.

He trailed a gloved palm along his horse’s flank as he walked to its hindquarters. ... Let me ask you this: how do the provinces view Pinal and his il’Kin defenders? ... He sensed his servant’s wary confusion.

... They are considered heroes ...

The Ain Magne bent down and raised the hind hoof of his horse. He frowned. A small, sharp stone had embedded itself against the sole in frozen mud. ... And if they were all killed? ... When his seer second made no answer, the Trine continued. ... Martyrs ... The brave il’Kin and their noble Defender Commander Kaarl Pinal cut down in the defense of Kinderra—they would be hailed as martyrs ... But alive, with just a handful limping home, they are failures ... Whom do you think the provinces would be more likely to place their faith in, a martyr or a failure? ... He paused again, allowing his words to take effect. ... Oë comprende? ... Do you understand now? ...

... Ai, my lord ... Ëo comprende ...

... I hope you do ... You are not above being made an example of what happens to those who counter me ... Which you have done ... Twice ... That is twice more than any other living man or woman ...

... I am your servant, my Trine ... You have more than my fealty ... You have my life ... his lieutenant returned, his mind’s voice full of contrition.

The Ain Magne ignored his humility. Let the boy worry for a while. He preferred the loyalty of the Ken’narren to come from respect, but fear was sometimes a very appropriate—and effective—motivator.

He unsheathed a small knife from his belt and began to pick away at the mud under his horse’s hoof. ... What of Kana-Akün’s healer prime? ...

... She cannot keep up the pace of harvesting you have demanded ... Her body fails, and we must wait until she revives ...

... She will soon have assistance ...

The Ain Magne heard raised voices coming from the camp and turned to face the noise. The shouts degraded into raucous laughter. A call from one of the defenders came to his mind inviting him back to the camp. He gently repelled the contact, hoping the defender would honor his need for privacy.

... Stay present a moment ... he called to his servant. ... I may have more need of you ...

He continued to pick away at the packed dirt under his horse’s hoof, but the stone refused to dislodge. He would have to use much stronger means to remove this frustration. As he would with building his forces.

Some Aspected, like his seer second, freely chose the Ken’nar way and fully embraced the Power from Without, but there were never enough of these for his needs. He added to his armies through a skill most in Kinderra believed a terrifying rumor: the Soul Harvest.

Oh, it was no rumor. It was very real.

The Soul Harvest was a dramatic description, perhaps, but an apt one, for those harvested were left bereft of anything that once made them individuals. It could be accomplished only through the Healing Aspect. With that most precious of Aspects, he winnowed away self-awareness like needless chaff.

The ancient sages were right to forbid the Soul Harvest’s use and Kinderrans were right to fear it. In a way, he agreed with both conclusions. The arcane skill was a despicable act, but it was necessary for peace. He would do anything necessary to accomplish that goal. Even kill. Even perform the Soul Harvest.

Although gaining control of Kana-Akün province and Falantir, its capital, had been an unexpected struggle, it did result in a very important victory. Healer Belessa Tir, prime of the woodland province, now harvested others by his command. It freed him to enact the rest of his plans to conquer Kinderra from anywhere he chose while she harvested warriors for him.

The Ain Magne shoved his belt knife back into its sheath. He cupped his amulet with one hand and held the horse’s hoof with the other. Reaching deep within himself, he harnessed the innate power of his Defending Aspect through the Light from Within and enjoined the crystal in his amulet to condense it. He let it build a moment, then sent a thin beam of light toward the frozen mud holding the stone. A tiny cloud of steam lifted in the damp night air as the muddy ice melted. The stone fell away. He let his Defending Aspect recede and called to his Healing Aspect, mending the knife prick in the flesh of his mount’s sole. He stood and again stroked the horse’s black coat.

The Light from Within. The Power from Without. Using one’s Aspect alone. Supplementing it by bringing in more life forces from outside of oneself. It was the same damn power, the same Aspect. Only the road to touch it was different. That was all. Just a difference of connection. Why would Kinderra not accept this? It was so bloody obvious, and yet the Fal’kin preferred war to understanding, embraced killing over enlightenment.

His stallion stomped and neighed again in irritation. He received the distinct impression of hunger. The Ain Magne reached into his saddlebag for a small sack of oats and set it down. The horse paused, waiting for a command from its master despite the gnawing in its stomach. He obliged the steed, and the animal buried its nose in the feed.

Now that he had Falantir and a secure location from which to stage his armies, he needed only two more conquests to make Kinderra his: Two Rivers Ford and Deren. Securing the Ford bridge complex stretching over the Garnath and Anarath Rivers was just a means to an end, though. Deren, the citadel and capital of Kin-Deren province, ai, that was the key to everything. The other eight provinces might be Kinderra’s limbs, but Kin-Deren province was her heart, and Deren, her soul.

The Ain Magne wiped the chill rain from his face and frowned. Kaarl Pinal’s daughter Mirana and her warning call were now additional frustrations in gaining Deren—and perhaps his greatest ones. Petite, raven-haired, with the penetrating silver eyes of her father, the girl held the Seeing Aspect and was considered quite gifted in that expression. Speculation about the girl had swirled across Kinderra for summers since she was a small child. What was first believed as her defender’s acute reflexes were later explained away as manifestations of her Sight showing her when and how to move.

It wasn’t the fact that Mirana was able to call to Pinal, even at a great distance, that concerned him. A caller needed only to sense the presence of another with the powers of the Aspects. Distance, and the noise of all the minds in between, did, however, make calling more difficult by diluting that connection. It was the circumstances in which she accomplished the feat that he found deeply troubling.

To find minds at a distance? And call to them? While those minds were hidden? That skill was difficult even for him—with an amulet. She was hardly more than a child, certainly not old enough to have chosen an amulet yet. Had she taken one in secret? It was possible. He had bonded with the crystal for his amulet when he was but ten summers old, unwilling to wait until he was eighteen as customary.

Interpretation of a vision, however, rested solely on the brilliance and insightfulness of the seer, something completely separate from amulet use. In that, he truly had no equal. Perhaps still. Perhaps not. Her abilities were more than impressive, they were daunting in their implications.

The Ain Magne glanced again at the camp. It was quiet now. He retrieved the now half-empty oat sack from his horse and stowed it back in the saddlebag. When he was certain he would no longer be disturbed, he reached out to his seer second’s mind again.

... We may have a complication ... Pinal’s daughter ... She warned the il’Kin your beasts would attack ... I’d like to know how she knew ...

... I sent the grynwen in utmost secrecy, I assure you ... his lieutenant returned.  ... How is this possible? ...

... How indeed ... The Ain Magne noted his second had changed the subject most skillfully, deflecting his scrutiny back to the girl.

What if Mirana Pinal’s Defending Aspect had not been misidentified? A child’s Aspect was known at birth, often before. Misidentifying an infant’s Aspect rarely happened and certainly not after the child had seen one summer. Then again, his own Aspects’ alignments would be sensed as blurred by others, superimposing themselves over each other, unless he chose to use one alone.

... Do you think she is another Trine? ... his servant called. ... There has never been any mention of the girl possessing the Healing Aspect ...

... No mention? ... Or outright lying? ... While Kinderra’s Aspected had never been numerous—perhaps one babe in a thousand was born with gifts—centuries would pass without a Trine coming into the world. ... Pinal could be hiding his daughter’s true identity ...

... He would not dare ...

... Oh, would he not? ...

Pinal—and maybe his wife, too—risked removal of his amulet and expulsion from his home province of Kin-Deren if he deliberately withheld Mirana’s Aspects from service to Kinderra.

He yanked at the strap closing the saddlebag. There could be only one reason Pinal would hide his daughter’s Trine gifts with such a sentence hanging over his head—he feared for her life because of the Trine Prophecy.

Ai, the Ain Magne knew of Kaarl Pinal’s weaknesses, and Mirana was his greatest.

His seer pushed at his mind in alarm. ... If she is a Trine, do you think she is one of those predicted in the Trine Prophecy?... It says— ...

... Aren’t you a little old for minstrel’s tales? ... he snapped back.

He was far too pragmatic to believe in the dire words written by a forgotten soothsayer thousands of summers ago. What exactly did the prophecy say, anyway? Chronicled in the Book of Kinderra, a Thrice-cursed and a Thrice-blessed, a Dark Trine and a Light Trine, were cast as mortal enemies. It portended in dramatic fashion great upheaval in Kinderra as one of the Trines would come to destroy, the other to rebuild. He remembered well those who cared for him as a boy had remained vigilant for signs that the Trine Prophecy was being fulfilled, lest his own young life be in danger.

Regardless of Kinderra’s belief—and his disbelief—in the prophecy, Mirana Pinal was a concern, Trine or no. If the girl found her father’s hidden presence and had correctly interpreted his seer second’s grynwen attack without possessing an amulet, what else could she deduce? The idea chilled him more than the sleet. He would have to alter his tactics for his strike on Two Rivers Ford. Immediately.

... I have a new strategy for the Ford ...

The Ain Magne wove an image of the bridge complex into a precise tapestry of time and space—the Ford as the warp, the Ken’nar as the thread of the weft—and called it to his second’s mind.

... Are you certain this is the right course of action? ... We will be left vulnerable ... his young seer called.

... Then you understand precisely the false advantage I will present the Fal’kin ... They will be even more likely to take this bait ...

... Ëo comprende, Great One ...

He sensed his servant’s mind lingering in his own. ... What is it? ...

... Mirana Pinal ... If she is a Trine, your life could be in danger, my lord ... The Trine Prophecy says— ...

... I know what it says ... he replied, his mind-words clipped. ... And it is as vague as it is sensational ...

... If there is even a chance the prophecy is true, she must be killed ... I will not let Pinal’s brat destroy all we have built together ... Nor destroy you ...

The Ain Magne considered the option as he hefted his horse’s saddle. His second’s concern regarding the prophecy, to say nothing of his life, was unfounded. The girl, however, did appear to possess formidable talents, ones that could become troublesome. He did not take the decision to kill lightly and would not do so until he had more information.

Embracing his Seeing Aspect, indistinct images began to fill his mind, then slowly resolved themselves with greater clarity.

The walled city of Deren, the capital of the Kin-Deren province. A vast expanse of bodies heaves in the torment of war. The watchtower of Jasal’s Keep juts two hundred feet into the sky. Mirana’s face pales in agony, her silver eyes hold desperation. The watchtower explodes in white light.

He gasped and dropped the saddle, startled by the vision. The explosion of white light from Jasal’s Keep. The Book of Kinderra said the deserter’s keep saved Deren from certain destruction by the Ken’nar. Somehow. It was never explained. This legend lent strength to the myth that Deren would never fall, a myth he was looking forward to proving quite wrong. Was Jasal’s Keep a weapon? It must be. Yet, the vision of the keep appeared along with Mirana. The keep and the girl must be connected. His Aspects were telling him as much.

The shock from his seer second’s mind speared through his own. ... My lord! ... The keep ... In Deren ... The light ... Such power ... And Mirana Pinal is— ...

... You are not to concern yourself with her ... Make certain Falantir remains secure ... Prepare for the Ford, and be ready to ride on my order ...

... Ai, Great One ... It shall be done ...

The Ain Magne let the connection to his seer second slip from his mind. He ground his teeth together. He hadn’t expected to see Jasal’s Keep, let alone allow his seer to witness it. The boy was talented and ruthless. And ambitious. He had trained his second himself. Perhaps too well.

The keep could be a weapon of such stunning proportions, whoever possessed it would control all of Kinderra. With his Ken’nar and the keep, he would be invincible. The Fal’kin would be forced to accept him as their sole leader.

He ran his hand along the stallion’s back. It shivered under his touch. His steed would feed freely from farm fields of fresh, sweet grass instead of gleaning bloody stubble from battlefields.

Once the unconquerable city and its mysterious keep came under his amulet, the other provinces would know resistance was pointless. One by one, they would fall under his amulet. Kinderra would be his, and the needless waste of death that had run unchecked for three thousand summers would finally come to an end.

All logic told him to kill the girl, she endangered everything he had spent his life building. She and the watchtower were somehow connected, though. If he wanted to gain control of Jasal’s Keep and end the war, she must remain alive.

The Ain Magne lifted the saddle across his mount’s back once more and returned to the camp. He nodded a greeting to the defenders keeping watch.

One of them rose and came over to him. She reached inside an oilcloth bag and held out two leathery strips of meat to him. “Some dried beef, Lord Trine? It’s not roast pheasant, but it will keep you from starving.”

“Gratas Oë.” He took the pieces and tore off a bite with his teeth. It was tough and tasteless. He gave her a tight smile in gratitude.

“Please take your fill, my lord. You fight three times as hard as any of us.”

He shook his head. “I have three times as many Aspects to help me endure, too. I shall be fine. Make sure the others have enough.”

She dipped her head in a polite bow, but the emotions that flowed from her mind to his held wonder, even astonishment. Why were people so surprised when he cared about their welfare? As a Trine, was not the welfare of the entire continent his ultimate responsibility?

The Ain Magne continued through the camp and chose a spot close enough to the others to be seen, yet still far enough away where his meditations would not be disturbed. He made a crude lean-to from his bedroll, draping one end over his mount’s back and the other across the hilt of his blade plunged in the hard earth. He crawled under the thick cloth and out of the elements.

He let the vision of Jasal’s Keep fill his mind once more. He would make certain Mirana Pinal lived. For now.

CHAPTER 4

“Etís nunqa onoír cinen u’verdas. Verdas revelaré en tempre, birente tuda pián thet ísié maent ísi runhé.”

(“There can never be honor within a falsehood. Truth shall be revealed in time, bringing all the suffering that was meant to be hidden.”)

—Ora Fal’kinnen 89:75–76

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Mirana looked at the spoon in her hand, but she saw clouds. Rain was coming. Rain always came in Fourthmonth, as spring defeated winter at last. True sunny warmth would not come until Sixthmonth with the summer season. The thunder rumbled throughout the learning hall, muted by thick stone walls. It had rained, too, when her father had been attacked by the pack of grynwen. She pushed the thought away and concentrated on filling a medicine jar with sticky, pain-relieving numbweed salve.

Numbweed was made from delicate peda blossoms. The tiny, yellow blooms flourished in Sixthmonth. Paithe would be long home by then, and the grynwen and her warning would fade under the summer sun like winter frost. The incident would be forgotten and not mentioned again.

The Choosing Ceremony, when the province’s Aspected scholaire’e chose their amulets to be elevated to Fal’kin status, was held on the first day of Sixthmonth as well. The same day as her birthday. She frowned as she scooped salve into a small clay medicine jar. She’d turn sixteen.

Birthdays were considered almost sacred by the Fal’kin because so many saw so few with the constant state of war. When she was younger, her parents gave her a doll for her birthday. At fourteen, she received a beautiful dress, now old enough to attend the Quorumtide pavanes. Her birthday this time only brought her another summer closer to the Choosing Ceremony. When she turned eighteen, she would trade a dress for armor and a doll for an amulet.

And a dream for a nightmare.

She closed her eyes and took a long, slow inhale. Patients in the healing hostel were in pain. They needed numbweed, and the sooner she filled the jars, the sooner people would stop hurting.

The healing hostel, housed within the learning hall, was large enough to convalesce one hundred patients. The hall itself, however, was an enormous compound that could hold with ease twenty times as many Fal’kin. At the moment, she didn’t care if it could hold a thousand times as many people. She wanted it to hold only one right now. Father. Paithe.

Mirana picked up a cork stopper. The alarm from his mind at her call was the only thing she had sensed from him since the warning. It had been sevendays. Was he now simply better hidden, his presence better diluted by those of forest creatures? Of course, he would be hidden. He must be. What if he wasn’t, though?

The memory of the gnashing fangs of the grynwen that had ambushed her father and his Fal’kin gnawed at her. Ambush. Her stomach constricted. He had not stumbled upon some hunting pack of wild beasts in the forests of Kana-Akün province. That, she knew for certain. The vicious carnivores had made straight for them. The attack must have been premeditated. His strike force, the fabled il’Kin, was meant to be eliminated. Murdered.

She shoved the cork in the jar and let out an explosive exhale. She glanced behind her. No one in the apothecary heard her. She reached for another empty jar.

Some evil warlord—whom everyone called the Dark Trine—controlled the Ken’nar. Was it he who had sent the grynwen after her father?

The Trine Prophecy spoke of a Thrice-cursed, who would destroy, and a Thrice-blessed, who would rebuild. Would this “Thrice-blessed” only be considered, well, blessed because he—or she—destroyed the Ken’nar’s Dark Trine? She swallowed and stared at the jar in her hand. Not all gifts were blessings.

Mirana took another deep, slow breath. She’d never get all these jars filled with those kinds of thoughts. People would need this medicine. People like her father.

Paithe.

She wasn’t supposed to act alone on visions she saw because she hadn’t chosen a crystal amulet yet. Studying images in detail without one was all but impossible. There had been no time, however, to have the vision of the attack on her father examined, questioned, and debated by others.

She gestured to the large pot of numbweed salve, wrapping it with an Aspected intent of movement. It drifted across the workbench closer to her.

Calling to someone’s mind through the powers of the Aspects was one thing. Anyone gifted with the powers of the Aspects could do that, even without an amulet. Just like moving a pot. Her father’s presence existed as a metaphysical embrace of love, devotion, and protection strong enough to be an Aspect of its own. The Aspects Above created him, as the indivisible deity had created her, her mother, all life. They blessed him with a breath of their power through his Defending Aspect.

Her call this time, however, had been wholly different. Of course, it was. She was a Trine. She beat the spoon against the jar rim with quick, violent blows to deliver more clinging salve into the container.

Why would the Aspects Above give her abilities such as this only to have her destroy Deren someday, summers from now? By the Light! It just made no sense.

She had known by her father’s surprise once he had dropped U’Nehíl he had heard her. Then, he disappeared and never contacted her again.

What if she was the reason he never contacted her again?

She gripped the spoon tighter.

Had her journey toward darkness and destruction already begun? She set the spoon in the serving pot and gripped the workbench, calming herself.

Should she search for her father once more? What if this time she searched, and she truly found nothing? Had she distracted him with that call at a critical moment? She paused in her ladling, holding the handle so tightly, its edges pressed into her palm. What if he, Morgan Jord, Binthe Lima, and the other il’Kin had died, and only she knew what had happened to them?

She threw the spoon down on the table and rubbed her face. No. She squeezed her eyes shut behind her hands. No, her father was not dead. She would know if he was. She would know it in her heart, in her Aspects.

She laid her hands on the workbench, calming herself.

No. No, she didn’t have an amulet. She couldn’t be that powerful without one, could she? Just because she had all three Aspects didn’t mean she had to use them, right? She could remain the seer everyone thought she was. Ai, she was a seer, maybe a powerful one, but a seer. Ai, that Aspect and only that Aspect would be the one she claimed. Aspects Above knew she’d never claim aloud to being a Trine.

Mirana retrieved the spoon, then scooped more in several waiting containers. How come she didn’t feel unburdened by her decision? She did save her father by seeing a vision. She saved her father.

The spoon hovered over a jar.

What would her mother do if she had been successful and saved their lives?

What if her father returned home, whole and safe, because she accomplished something almost no other Aspected individual in Kinderra could do? Her mother was Seer Prime Desde Kellis Pinal, leader of all of Kin-Deren province’s Fal’kin. She might ask her to choose an amulet early, that’s what she might do.

Mirana bit her bottom lip as she stoppered the jar and selected another empty one.

She slapped heaping dollops of numbweed into the container, spilling some on the workbench. Could she honestly ignore her Healing Aspect? She would always try to save her father’s life. Anyone’s life. To willingly let someone die when such a thing could be prevented was unthinkable. More than just her duty, she wanted to use her gifts for the good of Kinderra. Desperately.

Should she have told her mother what had happened? Should she tell her now, after so many days? What would her mother do if her father had been injured—or worse—because of her call? Or—or what if her call itself had killed him, ripping his mind to cut through his cover.

What if instead of saving him and the others from death, she had caused it?

The medicine jar fell from her hands, smashing on the stone floor and spilling salve around her feet. “Oh!”

“Mirana, dear, perhaps a little more attention on your jar and a little less on daydreaming,” Gemma cautioned, coming out of the storage room in the back of the apothecary.

“I’m sorry. It slipped. My fingers are numb.”

The herbswoman handed her a rag and a scullery pan. “That’s why it’s called numbweed. Don’t get any more on you, or your whole arm will fall asleep.”

The woman pushed a graying black curl back up into her haircloth and gathered from the table several of the small jars Mirana had already filled with the viscous analgesic ointment.

A particularly loud thunderclap boomed through the hallway outside the hostel. Gemma’s dark-skinned face creased in a wince at the noise. “Not exactly the spring weather for daydreams. Then again, unlike mine, your dreams actually come true.”

Mirana hesitated in mopping up the spent salve and pottery shards. Dear Aspects Above, she didn’t want any of her dreams to come true. Ever.

“What did you study today with your mother?” Gemma asked.

“We analyzed the Battle of the Vale i’Dúadar.” She groaned in not-quite-feigned disgust. “For the life of me, I don’t know why we call it a victory. It was a bloodbath.” She brushed the pieces of pottery from the pan into a copper waste bin, where they fell with a declamatory crash.

The herbswoman wore a grim expression of her own. “Ai, it was. But it was a victory, too. Thousands of Fal’kin forces from three provinces had hidden in the mountains surrounding the valley to turn back an incursion of Ken’nar. The ambush they set up sent the black-armored bastards packing. It was more than ten summers before those vermihn mounted anything close to a serious attack after that.” She carried the filled jars to the storeroom.

Ambush. Mirana hated that word. She flexed her hands, her fingers tingling from where she had touched some of the numbing salve. Recalling the grisly images her mother had projected through her amulet during their lesson earlier that day, the Fal’kin façade worked brilliantly. The Ken’nar, however, did not give up easily. Thousands on both sides were killed before the dark-armored warriors were finally forced into a bloody rout.

“You were there?” she asked as she wiped up the spilled salve on the workbench.

“Ai,” Gemma said from the storeroom. “It’s been thirty summers now. I was twenty-five before I tended patients on the battlefield for the first time. My parents were killed by the Ken’nar when I was a few summers younger than you. Traders from Kana-Akün found me.” She returned with a clean rag. “Healer Prime Belessa Tir herself finished my herbswoman’s training. It was a long journey from growing up in Jad-Anüna to practicing here in Kin-Deren. I’d like to think my parents would be proud.”

Mirana looked at the woman with even more admiration than she already held for her. Teague’s parents, Fal’kin Healers Tennen and Niah Beltran, might be the Priore’e of the infirmary, but the herbswoman had no shortage of lives she, too, pulled back from the brink of death. If Gemma Piaar had survived that battle, she could survive just about anything. No wonder she had been named senior herbswoman of Kin-Deren’s healing hostel.

“I only sew up wounds with linen, so watching the Beltrans and their Healing Aspect was a sight to behold,” the graying herbswoman continued, her gaze resting on a pile of clean bandages at the corner of the workbench. “Niah and Tennen were so young then, just a few summers older than you, but the lives they saved that day was nothing short of miraculous.”

After a moment, she gave her shoulders a little shake and straightened them. “I don’t understand how you seers can ever tell much from a vision.”

If the swift topic change wasn’t clear enough, the distinct impression Mirana received not to ask further questions about the vale certainly was. Fine by her. Studying every gory nuance for hours on end with her maithe and her fellow seer scholaire’e was more than enough.

“You can tell plenty,” she replied. “The angle of the sun or the position of the stars tell you when an event occurs, sometimes even a precise date. Landmarks like mountains or rivers can give you a location. You can even compare a vision of one army against a mind’s eye impression of an army of known size and get an estimate of troop counts.” She looked down at the rag in her hand. “That is, if you have an amulet. Maithe and the senior seers sometimes call a memory or a vision directly to our minds, but more times than not they just send it out through their amulets and the images hang there in the air.” Like ghosts.

Gemma wrapped an arm around her and hugged her. “Don’t worry, sweetling. You will have an amulet of your own soon. Just two more summers, isn’t it? I can’t believe it—you’ve grown up so quickly.”

Cold fear stabbed through Mirana. She must not choose an amulet. Not unless she found a way to become who she wanted to be, rather than what the skeins of the future portended she could be.

She frowned, hoping the older woman hadn’t noticed her reaction. “Grown older, ai, but not exactly ‘up.’”

The herbswoman laughed. “I guess you’ve caught up now as much as you’re ever going to. I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for a bit less than your maithe’s stature. You were so small when you were born, I could almost fit you in my palm. You might have come to us early, but you certainly did not come willingly. Your maithe labored a full night and day. Stubborn little kit you were, even then.” She gave her another squeeze and released her.

Why did they always bring up the circumstances of her birth, as if she should be proud of the agony she caused her mother? She didn’t ask to be born, certainly not born with the Aspects. Sometimes, she wished she hadn’t been born at all.

Another presence drew near. A flight of sunlarks took to wing in her stomach as she recognized the young man before the sound of his footsteps reached her ears.

Teague sped into the apothecary. Seeing the other woman, he slowed to a more sensible pace. He shook the rain-soaked hair out of his eyes. “Ben dië, Senior Herbswoman. Mirana.”

She smiled broadly. “Teague.” She caught Gemma’s raised eyebrow and eased her mouth into a more sensible grin.

The herbswoman’s grin, however, remained. “Miri, I thought your maithe had you helping out in the kitchens after your lessons today.”

Teague began to place lids on some of the jars she had filled. How could hands be so gentle yet so strong at the same time? And warm. And tender. When they touched her arm, her face. What would his caress feel like when he, at last, touched her—

“Mirana?” Gemma nudged her elbow.

She shook herself. “What? Sorry. I already did. I think I peeled every potato in the province. My fingers are permanently curled from holding a paring knife. After studying a battle all day, I didn’t even want to look at another knife. So, when I finished in the kitchens, I came here.”

“Ai, of course. Completely understandable, as there are no sharp instruments here.” The herbswoman gestured to a set of gleaming scalpels on a tray on the workbench. “Young Master Beltran, help our potato peeler fill her jars, would you?” She left through the apothecary door to see to her patients in the adjacent convalescence room, chuckling as she passed them.

“Have you heard from your father yet?” Teague asked once Gemma was out of earshot.

The question was simple. The answer, however, was far from it. She shook her head.

“Are you worried? I mean, really worried?”

“No. Maybe.” She sighed. “I don’t know. If only he had called—” She stiffened and cocked her head for a moment, sensing something.

Pain. Nausea. Fear. Anger. Bleeding. Bleeding. Bleeding.

He moved closer. “What is it?”

She quickly looked over her shoulder. They were still alone. “There’s a patient. He’s hurting. It’s a deep cut of some kind.”

“Teague? Would you come here a moment?” Niah Beltran summoned her son from the convalescence room.

He nodded, handing Mirana a lid. She covered a jar and followed him out of the apothecary.

“What is it?” he said entering the patient wardroom. Gemma and the learning hall’s quartermaster held worried expressions as they stood next to his mother.

On a cot, lay a boy Mirana and Teague’s age. The youth was pale and sweaty. His left forearm was wrapped in a cloth soaked through with blood.

“This is a good one for you to attend to, Teague,” Niah said. “The laceration on his arm is deep. It will be good suture practice for you. Just use plenty of numbweed for your deeper sutures.”

Teague’s parents were her own parents’ closest friends, nearly family in their own right. She shared Matrua Niah’s jet-black hair and admired its thick waves much more than her own poker-straight tresses. What she appreciated the most, however, was the healer woman’s honest and reassuring smile. Teague had Patrua Tennen’s lighter coloring, not his mother’s rich, caramel skin from the southern province of Tash-Hamar. He and his father both had hazel eyes—even a dusting of freckles across the nose when they saw too much sun—but his warm expression was a perfect reflection of his mother’s. It was one of the qualities she adored most about him.

At the moment, the wounded boy looked like he needed smiles from both the mother and the son.

Niah pulled back her hair, tightening it into a coil at the nape of her neck, and rolled up her sleeves. “What happened to him?” she asked the quartermaster.

“I found him lying in the street by the markets,” Haarlen Lasen replied. “He didn’t want to come.” His frown sank into cheeks turned apple-red from summers manning the learning hall’s kitchen hearths.

Teague’s mother sighed. “It is a sentiment that grows regardless of who wins battles.”

Gemma’s eyes widened as she pointed to the large man’s shirt. “I’ll bet you did more than just find him in the street.” A long tear rent the fabric. One that might have been made protecting oneself—or someone else—from a large knife. “You’re a good man, Haarlen.”

He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Let me know how he does.”

The healer woman nodded. “I will.”

The quartermaster grinned down at the boy, the expression nearly buried within his bushy brown beard, and left the wardroom.

Mirana blinked as a memory flashed from the boy’s mind to hers. He had tried to steal some bread from a vendor in Deren’s markets. The baker was not about to have his wares pilfered by a street orphan. The dough knife he’d used on the boy was meant to take off his hand.

The herbswoman was right. Quartermaster Haarlen was a good man. How many others would have left the young thief in the street as just another petty criminal?

As Matrua Niah carefully unwrapped the cloth from the youth’s forearm, the rose quartz amulet around her neck began to glow a soft pinkish hue.

The boy snatched his arm back from her. “Let go of me.” His breath came in short bursts through clenched teeth.

Mirana grimaced and caught Teague’s gaze. Obviously, the young thief was terrified and in a good deal of pain, but underneath those emotions she sensed anger. More like fury.

The healer sat back and put her hands on her lap where the boy could see them. “You can relax now. You are safe here. You’ve got yourself a nasty cut. I want to help you.”

The injured youth recoiled in fear and hissed in pain. “You’re one of them.”

Mirana winced, this time from the thief’s comment. Unaspected, like the boy, didn’t have powers to protect themselves. They could not see the skeins of time to know when an attack would occur, they could not heal injuries hundreds of times faster than letting nature do the work, and they could not defend themselves with amulet fire.

The Ken’nar ransacked the homes and farms of the Unaspected for food, horses, livestock, supplies, and anything that could be melted down in a smithy fire to create weapons. If the Unaspected resisted, they were killed. Sometimes, they were killed anyway. Killed by their own life forces fueling the very amulets that struck them down.

After three thousand summers, could no one find a way to end the war between the Ken’nar and Fal’kin? The people the Fal’kin were sworn to protect often suffered the most.

“Ai. I am a Fal’kin healer,” Niah replied. “This is my biraen, Teague. I would like him to care for you if that’s all right.”

The boy eyed Teague fearfully. “Your son? Where’s his amulet?”

The healer woman looked down at her hands resting in her lap. “My son heals in a different way.”

“Mother, please.” He turned to the youth. “I don’t have an amulet. I’m not old enough but that doesn’t matter. I’m not ‘one of them.’ I’m like you. I don’t have the Aspects. I heal, well, the regular way.”

“He will have you as good as new in no time.” Matrua Niah moved over to make room for her son. “Mirana, dear, you might want to leave.”

More impressions pushed at her Aspects. The boy’s mental state was as concerning as his physical injury. “I’d like to stay and help if I could.” She glanced at Teague. “It’s good for everyone to learn some healing skills, even, um, seers, isn’t it?”

... The boy is frightened enough of us Aspected ... I don’t want you to upset him even more ... Teague’s mother called to her mind.

... I have no amulet, either ... Maybe he won’t be so frightened of me ... she returned. ... I just want to help ...

Niah regarded her for a moment. “You may spend as much time here as your parents will allow.” Her dark brown eyes glinted with humor. “Provided you learn.”

Mirana turned her face away from the healer to pick at a hangnail on her thumb. “I do learn so much here.”

“All right. You may stay and help. Get a basin of clean water and some fresh bandages. Teague, what else do we need?” He rattled off a list of other supplies. “Did you get that, Mirana?”

“Ai.” She hurried and gathered the supplies from the apothecary. When she returned, she set down an additional jar. “I brought some allium tincture as well. The cut is so deep, there will be a risk of infection. Teague says it works better than strained honey alone,” she added with a smile.

A dark eyebrow rose in Niah’s face. Teague grinned and nodded. “I think I got this.”

Now, a corner of his mother’s mouth lifted like her eyebrow. ... He needs to practice his stitches ... “You come get me if he runs into any trouble.”

Oh. No.

Did his mother suspect she had the Healing Aspect? Or did she think she was just here to dally with her son? Was it too late to run from the infirmary? Probably. She couldn’t move anyway because panic bound every limb. She swallowed and forced a smile.

“Ai, Healer Niah, of course.” She nodded vigorously. Maybe too vigorously.

“Gemma, let’s get more of those bundles of thyme and mint ready,” the healer woman said. “With this damp weather, it’s a wonder the entire hall hasn’t come down with croup.” She rose to leave and squeezed Mirana’s shoulder. ... I am here for you, too, if you need me ... Always ...

She did not return the healer’s call but focused instead on the boy’s wound. His forearm had been sliced open down to the muscle. Thankfully, no bones were exposed. She had taught herself to control others’ pain without an amulet over the past few summers. It was difficult, at the limits of her abilities, but possible. Holding the youth’s pain at bay from such a deep wound would require considerably more effort than she was used to, however. This was by far the most serious injury she and Teague had worked on together. Matrua Niah was one of Kinderra’s few Fal’kin healers. Could she do it without Teague’s mother or anyone else noticing? She bit her lip.

She glanced around the spacious convalescence room. A few patients lay in cots and appeared to be asleep. Three other herbsfolk tended them while an apprentice made up a cot with fresh linens. They were all busy enough not to notice her. Good. She took a breath. They were safe.

As Teague cleaned the boy’s forearm, she sat in the chair by the cot. She reached out to grasp his good arm in greeting. “Ben dië. My name is Mirana. What is your name?”

The wounded thief batted her hand away and locked a moan of pain behind gritted teeth. “You’re a Pinal. All of you in the Pinal family have those eyes. The silver eyes that will take away my soul.”

She folded her hands in her lap. “Don’t be silly. The Aspected don’t take away souls.”

“Your family is cursed.” The boy curled the hand of his uninjured arm into a fist.

After more than twelve hundred summers, Fal’kin and Unaspected alike still looked at her family with a certain amount of mistrust. By the Light, she did not want to continue Jasal Pinal’s sins. Then again, some Unaspected were beginning to look at anyone with powers with mistrust.

“I only want to help you.” She tried to send soothing thoughts into him, but that was harder to do if he wouldn’t let her touch him.

“Help?” The youth swung his feet off the cot. “What do you know of help? Help might have saved my mother and father when the Ken’nar overran our farm. Where were the Fal’kin and their saving amulets then? If there were no racking Fal’kin, there would be no racking Ken’nar to fight them, there would be no racking war, and my parents would still be alive!”

She started to speak but, instead, blew out her words through pursed lips. He was wrong. Very. Her father hadn’t been home since before the Reckoning had turned, putting his own life in danger to prevent tragedies exactly like this. Then again, would she feel any different if a Ken’nar amulet had reduced him to ash? Or if a grynwen had torn out his throat? She willed the thought away.

“I shouldn’t have come here.” The young thief rose from the cot. He groaned in pain and swayed when his legs wouldn’t hold him.

Teague caught him before he could fall to the floor. Mirana helped ease the injured boy back down to sit on the cot and sent a calming intent to his mind. The boy’s breathing now came in pants. Maybe she should call Matrua Niah after all.

“If you leave now, that wound could fester,” Teague said. “You could lose your arm.”

“I will leave if you want me to,” she added, “but at least let Teague put a clean bandage on you.”

The thief’s gaze flicked between the two of them as he sat hunched over, guarding the wounded limb.

Teague sat back in his chair. “Look, I trust her with my life.” His gaze now drifted to her. “I would do anything for her. As I know she would for me.”

Her cheeks flushed. That was indeed true, but so much more existed behind his words the youth could not perceive. Only she could.

The boy hesitated a moment more, then nodded and fell back on the cot.

“Give me the numbweed, Mirana.” She passed the jar to Teague and he slathered some on his patient’s forearm with a thin, metal spatula. The youth flinched as the salve touched his wound.

“Give it a moment. It will help lessen your pain,” she said. She threaded a thin filament of catgut through a fine needle and some silk through another slightly larger one, and handed both to Teague. Reaching for the jar of numbweed, she pretended to scoop out a dab of the salve. She moved to sit behind the boy’s head and placed her fingers on his temples. He winced.

“I promise I won’t hurt you.” Her Healing Aspect rose in earnest in response to the boy’s wound. She brought him into a deep sleep. When he awoke, he would believe his slumber was due to the anesthetic effects of the numbweed. Or, rather, she hoped he would. Everyone else whose pain she dampened had come to that conclusion. What if he knew it was her, though? She bit her lip again.

Was this all really worth the risk? To the boy and perhaps letting her secret out? She glanced up at the rafters. They were up there, the Aspects Above, somewhere far beyond the ceiling, the clouds, and the sun. Maybe if she kept doing good things like helping to heal people, the divine entity would lift her curse from her.

Ai, it was worth the risk.

The boy tensed as she massaged his temples, but at least he didn’t pull away this time.

And she could always tell Niah and her own mother she didn’t heal anything, merely controlled some pain and used her Sight to predict an immediate-future prognosis. Ai, that would work if it came to that.

Wouldn’t it?

Teague washed the blood away from the wound and treated it with the honey and allium. He thought her name, ready for her help. She closed her eyes, centered herself, and pushed away any distractions.

Wrongness. Muscles laid bare. Bleeding. Blood vessels cut. Bleeding. Raw flesh bleeds.

The shrill notes of the boy’s laceration scraped at her mind as she struggled to diminish his pain with her Healing Aspect. She clamped her jaw as the boy’s deep ache pulsated through her before fading. His breathing calmed as his body relaxed under her fingers. She opened herself more fully to her Healing power and sent the youth into a deeper state of unconsciousness.

“Is everything all right over there?” Niah called from the apothecary.

Mirana froze at the sound of the healer’s voice. Teague replied to his mother with a confident answer, but the alarmed emotion she caught from him matched her own. To lose concentration now would put the boy in even greater pain. The pungent, camphor-like scent of the numbweed burned her nose as he applied more salve into his patient’s wound. A moment later, his thoughts bade her to continue. She pulled from within herself and coaxed the boy’s nerves to remain quiet, fighting against the strain.

A new note, a dissonant chord separate from the street boy’s painful music, rang out. Soft at first, the shrill sense grew sharply louder. A burning sensation centered itself in her chest. Images of the youth’s injuries began to shift. What was happening? A vision from her Seeing Aspect superimposed itself over her Healing Aspect and into her awareness.

“Miri,” Teague whispered, “could you try to—”

Water rushes over rock. Two stone bridges span river chasms. Lightning flashes. Thousands of riders, hazy with the insubstantiality of a time yet to come. They pound across a narrow bit of land and surge through an outpost of tents. The landscape plunges into darkness. The all-consuming bloodlust of the riders remains. Fighters rise to meet the riders. Amulets fire. Burning, burning. Death. Massive wolf-like creatures leap high, their fangs fastening on throats. Death. Power grows within her, burning, building, consuming. Her chest burns. Lightning flashes again. The rivers and the riders disappear. Jasal’s Keep. Her chest burns. Burning, burning. The watchtower stands entombed in white light. Rage. Desolation. Agony. Death. Thousands. Light. Exploding.

“—because I’m awfully close to a nerve.”

“I can’t,” she gasped, attempting to keep her shaking fingers locked on the boy’s temples.

“It’s all right. It’s all right. I just need to close him up,” he replied. “Keep him asleep a little bit longer.” He reached for the numbweed jar again.

She nodded and closed her eyes once more as she fought to catch her breath. Beads of sweat rolled down her face.

Long moments later, he thought a clear notion of relief. “I’m done. You can let him go now.”

Mirana slipped out of the youth’s mind and removed her hands from his temples as Teague spread more of the analgesic salve on the wound. A row of tiny, meticulous stitches now closed the gash in the boy’s forearm.

Moments later, the youth blinked and slowly sat up. He looked down at his arm. “What happened?”

“You fell asleep. Our numbweed is, um, very strong,” Teague replied. “I just need to put this bandage on you. You should be good as new in a few sevendays.” He took a clean strip of linen and wound it around the youth’s limb.

When he had finished, the street boy touched the bandage, his brows drawn together. “I was talking, and then I just fell asleep.” His words sounded more like a question. Mirana certainly had questions of her own at the moment.

She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, still shaking. She peered behind her. The other herbsfolk had left. The apprentice herbsgirl, however, gave her a curious look, pausing in the middle of stuffing a pillow in a case. Mirana feigned a nauseated grimace and gestured to the wounded youth with a tilt of her head. The other girl smiled and nodded in understanding, and finished making the bed.

“That happens.” Teague now stared at her with a questioning scowl.

The young thief looked back down at his arm. “I don’t know what to say.”

She took a slow breath. “You are starving. Find your way to the kitchens.”

Teague nodded. “Tell them Healer Niah said you could have as much as you want. They might need some help, too. If your family had a farm, you probably know good produce when you see it. Maybe you can assist Quartermaster Lasen with choosing provisions?”

The youth rose from the bed and started to leave. When he reached the door, he paused. “My name is Maark. Maark Bedane. Gratas Oë.” He nodded at Mirana. “Both of you.”

She nodded absently and watched Maark leave the hostel.

Dear Light Above, what had she just seen?

Teague blew out an exhale. “That was a close one. What the bloody hell happened? I thought he was going to come back around before we were done.”

She remained in the chair and didn’t answer.

Like any seer, disturbing visions came unbidden on occasion. This one terrified her. A wave of thousands upon thousands of riders, more than she had ever seen, swelled across Two Rivers Ford. It had to be the Ford. She had learned in her primary lessons the stone bridge complex spanned the confluence of the Garnath and Anarath Rivers, joining three provinces. Were all those riders Ken’nar? It was impossible to tell. In the vision, it was nighttime, and she could only see between flashes of lightning. Was it truly a vision or was it a memory of the boy’s? A nightmare of his? Of hers? It happened so fast. She rubbed her chest where the burning sensation still stung.

“Miri?” He nudged her with his elbow.

“What? Ai. I’m fine.”

He rinsed the blood from his hands in the basin. The blood. The riders. Death. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut.

“You don’t look so good. Are you all right?”

To make light of her reaction, she waved him off and tried to laugh. It sounded fake even to her.

Glancing at the apothecary where his mother worked, he stepped close to her. “Did you see something?”

In a rush, she wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face against his chest. He stroked her hair. “Maybe. I don’t know—” She gasped and pulled back from him.

Matrua Niah walked into the convalescence room. “Done already?”

“Ai,” he said, nodding as he rubbed his suddenly empty hands on his breeches. “It, ah, wasn’t as bad as it looked after I cleaned him up. He finally told us his name was Maark Bedane.”

“He left?”

“He was famished,” Mirana said. “We sent him to the kitchens. I think if we waited any longer, he would have eaten the numbweed.”

Teague avoided his mother’s gaze, pointedly so, and busied himself with gathering the medical supplies. “He should be fine.”

“I wanted to inspect your sutures. How am I supposed to tell how well you’re doing if you don’t show me?” the healer woman said, but she kept her eyes fixed on Mirana.

Mirana glanced over at Teague. He looked just as pale as she felt.

“Mother, I’ll bring Maark back. You can inspect my sutures. If you think they’re sloppy, it’s because I don’t have your, well, your skills.”

Matrua Niah rounded her mouth into her reassuring smile. “You are very skilled, but I must check your progress.”

He turned to face his mother. His shoulders and fists tensed, readied for the struggle he combatted so often. Mirana fought the urge to hold him. “If I’m as skilled as you say, why do you need to check on my progress?”

“You are very talented, but you are still an apprentice—”

“You think Mirana distracts me, don’t you? Don’t take your disappointment in me out on her.”

The healer woman stepped closed and held her son’s face, her own full of pride and pain. “I am not disappointed in you, Ama. Ever.” Her gaze moved to Mirana. “And I never said she was a distraction. I’m just not so sure she’s letting you practice your herbsman’s skills on your own.”

Mirana’s shoulders sank, wounded by Niah’s words. Did his mother really think she would ever prevent him from caring for a patient? He was everything to her. He held her deepest confidences, her deepest fears. He held her heart. But hadn’t she, in fact, interrupted his treatment at a critical moment? She nearly lost her hold on the boy’s pain when that vision or whatever it was stormed its way into her mind. He had to calm her and treat Maark at the same time. What if she hadn’t been able to regain control? Maybe it was time to put an end to this ridiculous attempt to heal in secret.

She shook her head. “Please, don’t, Teague. I never meant to be a distraction to you. I thought I was helping you. Your mother is right. I didn’t realize my, well, using my Seeing Aspect in front of you was like flaunting it and making it more difficult for you to concentrate.”

He held her, ignoring his mother. “You are not a distraction. Ever. I’ve never felt that you were using your Aspect to make me feel bad. You know that. I know that’s not what you’re doing.”

Matrua Niah folded her arms. “That injury should have taken two jars of numbweed, yet neither of you returned for more. I know something is going on here.”

He released Mirana. “Mother, I—”

The healer held up her hand, silencing him, and turned to Mirana. “Teague’s father and I have noticed far less use of numbweed when you help. Ai, all Aspected have some ability to heal minor injuries and lessen pain, but that is only within themselves. Not others. How do you explain what’s been happening?”

She looked away from Niah’s penetrating deep-brown eyes. “I just wanted to help. That’s all.” That would be enough. That would be everything. “I should go. I’ve probably been here too long anyway.” She turned to leave.

“Miri, wait,” Teague pleaded.

Before the healer woman could search her thoughts further, another mind brushed her consciousness.

“Shouldn’t you be helping your mother?”

Mirana whirled around. “Paithe! You’re home!” She flew into his arms. He was soaked to the skin from the rain. Mud and blood stained his white uniform. His chain mail bore great rents. Fatigue roiled off him like storm clouds. But he was alive!

He held her tightly, pressing his lips to the top of her head. ... Ai, biraena, I am ... Because of you ...

CHAPTER 5

“I, at last, beheld my child.”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

––––––––

Kaarl lay next to Desde, drowsing in the stillness of their chamber. Thick raindrops pattered against the window, punctuated by the occasional tap of sleet. Oh, to be out of the elements at last and in a warm bed next to his warm wife. For long moments, he simply breathed her in, clinging to her as she held on to him. He laid his cheek on her breast and listened to her heartbeat. He was so inexpressibly grateful to hear and to feel her living presence again after so much death. He could not remember anything as fragrant as his wife’s skin. Nor anything as soft. Nor could he imagine anyone as beautiful as she. Hair like summer wheat shimmering in the sun, eyes like burnished wood. Her body gave life back to him after the Ken’nar had left only death in their wake.

His hand followed the sinuous curves of her body up from her hip to rest on her arm. ... Why do I ever leave you? ...

She brushed her lips on his head. ... Because you are a fool ... She entwined her long legs around his.

... Ai, I am a fool ...

“The bravest, most brilliant fool the Aspects Above ever chose to defend us.”

“In that, you are very much mistaken.” He raised himself on one elbow and kissed her, again drinking in her love.

She pulled back from his mouth. ... What happened in Kana-Akün, Ëi ama? ...

He did not return her call this time. He slid his body over hers, pouring more passion into his kisses.

She gently pushed him back from her. “Kaarl. What happened?”

He rested his forehead against her collarbone and sighed. He rolled off her and sat up, the coverlet sliding down his bare chest to his waist. He studied his hands in his lap, the scars, old and new. If his body was still as lean and strong as it ever was, why did he feel so powerless? Her fingers brushed at his hair and traced down his neck to a healing wound on the back of his shoulder.

“Kaarl?” she asked again.

He shook his head, dismissing the question as he peeled off the blankets and rose from the bed. He slipped his arms through a tunic and went over to the fireplace. He stoked the embers back into a comfortable blaze to ward off the deep night’s chill.

The Defending Aspect flowed through his veins. He once wondered if, when the Aspects Above created the Aspected, they made defenders first. So wedded to the ideal of protecting Kinderra and her people were defenders, maybe it made some sense to the deity to create fighters ahead of seers or even healers. Now, he wondered if making defenders at all had been a mistake.

He held his deep-red garnet. Ai, he was blessed with calling forth amulet fire. Yet, his blessing had failed one of his defenders entirely. He let his amulet fall back to his chest.

“They were,” he paused, “they are all so young. Even Morgan has seen only thirty summers.”

“They are also very skilled and highly trained, and they are led by the best defender Kinderra has.”

He laughed in derision at her comment.

Just past fifty summers he had lived, and most of those had been spent in combat with the Ken’nar. Fifteen of those summers he had served as the commander of the il’Kin and fought as a defender in its ranks longer still.

Long summers ago, the renowned strike force unit comprising the finest Fal’kin in the nine provinces of Kinderra numbered one hundred amulets. When the snows had melted last spring, he rode out with thirty defenders. It was spring again, and he had marched home with eighteen. Never had so many fallen under his command in so short a time as in these last months.

In other labors, a man could walk away when he became too old or too disheartened. Being a Fal’kin was not a choice; it was a birthright. How did one escape one’s destiny?

“You cannot, but you can control how you face it,” Desde said, answering his unspoken question. ... What are you hiding from me? ...

He was silent. What could he say? What was there to say?

He poured himself what was left of the wine from a carafe on a small side table near the bed. He held up his cup as a means of asking his wife if she wanted some. She shook her head.

She raised herself on her elbow and propped up her head with her hand. “I am a seer, and I was a student of my father. He was seer prime of this province for nearly fifty summers and twice as cagey as any defender. I think that entitles me to know brilliance when I see it.”

Kaarl sat down next to her again. “That is very true.” He leaned over to give her a tender kiss on her forehead. “I miss Toban. Very much.”

Their room, one of the hundreds in Deren’s learning hall, contained little more than a bed, a fireplace, some chairs, and a small table. It was Desde’s right as prime now to take up residence in the largest suite in the hall. He was glad she had not moved them to the prime’s chambers down the hallway. Too much of her beloved father Toban remained in it.

“Could the healers do nothing?”

His wife sighed. “Even Fal’kin do not live forever.”

“I wish the Aspects Above would have made him an exception.”

“You have no idea how hard I prayed for that as well. However, you sidestepped my question. What happened in the forest?”

He stared into his cup. “I already briefed you, my Prime. What more do you need to know?”

She sat up and rested her lips on his shoulder. “I need nothing more. You need to rid yourself of the poison left behind.”

He swallowed a large draft of wine. “I do not wish to discuss it.”

... Dici Oëa cerebus a Ëa, Ëi ama ... she called to him in Anqa Lingua, the old tongue of Kinderra.

... I do not wish to speak my mind to you ... Not now ... It is too soon ... he returned.

“No. I fear it has already been too long.”

He said nothing. In the firelight, the wine looked like blood.

“I have known you your whole life. Never have you allowed adversity to defeat you. You’ve lost good fighters before. Why does this one haunt you so?”

“It’s not just this one. It’s all of them. It’s thirty summers of them. Of seeing them die.” Kaarl regarded his cup once more, now disgusted by its contents. “I fight and I fight and I fight, but my sword and amulet never make one damn bit of difference. I have grown useless in this war. Why does this one haunt me so? I’ll tell you why. One moment, we were riding through the woods. The next, one of my defenders was dead.” ... By nothing more nefarious than a simple pack of beasts! ... Beasts, Desde! ... And I couldn’t do anything to save Gannah ... Not one ... Damn! ... THING! ...

His Defending Aspect flared as the cup hurled across the room and shattered within the fireplace. The flames rose as they consumed the wine.

Desde tensed. ... Ama? ...

He never brought the war to their home. To their bed. To her. He buried his face in his hands.

“I remember all too well what’s it’s like to lose people you care about, Ëi Ama.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Skilled battle seers died from a strike they had successfully blocked a hundred times before. And the most inept of fighters lived another day.” She held one of his hands and pulled it down. “I also remember all the battle lust. The stench of blood. The noises the Ken’nar made as I slit their throats. I was drowning from guilt in the deaths I caused. Becoming pregnant with Mirana and remaining a hall seer in Deren was a blessing for me beyond just bearing a child.” She brought his hand to her lips. “Now, I merely see deaths by the hundreds instead of causing them.”

Kaarl studied Desde’s hand in his. He also remembered holding his wife month after barren month, her guilt-ridden sobs blaming her empty womb on her sins. “Gannah Tesabe died.”

“Oh, Kaarl.”

He squeezed her hand and released it. His amulet glowed softly as his Aspect called to the deep red garnet with the memory. “She was just four summers older than Mirana. She had so much promise. Few older defenders could fight better than that girl.”

Gannah Tesabe, born to the far-flung tropical province of Jad-Anüna, had woven her scimitar in combat like a master craftswoman weaving a tapestry. So much talent. So very much. He cursed under his breath, his body growing rigid in an effort to hold back his anger. “I couldn’t even save her from those bloody grynwen. Do you call that brilliance?”

“Grynwen are not merely large wolves.” She covered his amulet with her hand, her fingers cool and soothing against the skin of his chest. “Even a man such as Tetric Garis cannot save everyone.” When he did not comment, she continued. “Gannah was not a child. She had seen battle. Many of them.”

He deflated back into the bed. “I shouldn’t have lost her.”

“It is said grynwen hunt with the Aspects.”

“So do we.” He sighed in frustration. “I had hoped Tetric might have been able to do something, but...” He stared at the beamed ceiling high above him. The supports no doubt came from Kana-Akün centuries ago.

“He came?”

Kaarl frowned. “After we’d taken the loss. Again. This time, it was sheer luck. We didn’t even know he was in the vicinity.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. He was weary, and for this one moment, he let himself feel the full weight of his fatigue. “The war has changed, Desde. The Ken’nar. They have always been brutal, but now?” He slowly spun the thin gold band encircling his left wrist. His wife had given it to him the day they joined in union, forever committing herself to him. She wore one just like it, his eternal promise to her. Her love and their daughter’s love were the only things he held closer to him than his Aspect. Sometimes, their love was all he cared about. “We fight them, but they do not stop. They are relentless.”

His wife gently caressed his mind, trying to comfort him, but nothing could take away this hurt anymore. “Our corpses were not even recognizable as bodies,” he continued “That is, those the Ken’nar did not turn into ash with their amulets. For summers now, grynwen are at every engagement, not just large-scale assaults.”

He sat up again and swung his legs off the edge of their bed, his back to Desde. He looked down at his hands once more, staring at them helplessly. “Last autumn, fighting out on the borderlands in between Varn-Erdal and Dar-Azûl, I rode past one felled Ken’nar. His leg had been cut from him, he was pocked with arrows, yet he still tried to stand and attack. He ripped out an arrow from his side and stabbed at the fetlocks of my horse. We are all but powerless against evil such as this.” He let his breath out slowly in a staccato exhale. “Do you remember when Tarn Salka died?”

“Ai. It was at that skirmish at Thyre’s Crossing. Two summers ago now.”

The amulet pulled at the back of his neck, its burden hanging even more heavily on his soul. “We fought in the provincial forces together. We were both called up to the il’Kin together. I didn’t think another loss could hurt more. I was wrong.” He stopped fighting the weight of his garnet and let it sag his shoulders. “The Ken’nar do not stop. We must butcher them just to press any advantage at all. This is not war. This is savagery.”

“I know you fought bravely.”

“And yet one of my own was brought down by animals. Not even a blade.”

Desde touched the shadow of another scar on his arm. “One could have been all twenty of you, regardless of whether Tetric arrived or not.” ... And we would not be having this conversation ...

He shifted uncomfortably. “That has more to do with Mirana’s warning than Tetric.”

She dropped her hand. “Warning? What warning?”

“Mirana’s call.” He scowled as her shock leaked from her mind to his. He turned to face her. “Did she not tell you?”

“Tell. Me. What?” She cut off each word as with a knife.

“She called to me. She should not have been able to.”

“Granted, the distance—”

“We were hidden. We were under U’Nehíl.”

Her hand went to her mouth.

The fact that Mirana had not told his wife of this warning meant their daughter knew precisely the magnitude of what she had done. She was certainly adept in her interpretation abilities, foretelling with accuracy many events, despite being given just fragments of unbidden visions. Their daughter, once so exuberant in expressing what the Aspects Above revealed to her through her Seeing Aspect, had grown more and more withdrawn in recent summers. Now, she barely discussed any vision beyond its facts. Even with her reticence, though, she had never been deceitful.

Maybe she was beginning to understand her sight meant so much more to Kinderra than merely receiving some skein of time before her mind’s eye. Was the Dark Trine beginning to take notice of their daughter’s talents as well?

A chill rippled through him having nothing to do with the night air.

He and Desde would do anything to keep their child safe. Anything. If deceit saved lives, was it still a sin? He did not know. He wasn’t sure he cared anymore. If Mirana remained safe, that was all that mattered to him.

Kaarl reached out now for their daughter’s presence in her small room across the corridor from theirs. She was awake. She had been as relieved to have him and the others home as he was to be home. He had held her and not wanted to let go, deciding to save the discussion about her warning for the morning.

She was still so petite despite seeing nearly sixteen summers. It was as though her small body never made up for the sevendays she missed coming nearly two months early when she was born. His tiny girl. Eyes like moonlight on water. Like his. Hair as black as midnight. Like his. Having to bear the weight of his ancestor Jasal Pinal’s damned reputation for failure, cowardice, and betrayal. Having to do more, be more, just to counter it. Like him. Like all in the Pinal lineage.

“Does she actually think I would punish her for saving your life?” Desde crossed her arms, hugging herself. “She is not supposed to act alone on visions yet, but this was a matter of life or death. Why would she hide this from me?”

“If you were honest with yourself, you would know why.”

She now rose from the bed and put on her robe, cinching it around her slender waist. She walked over to the window. Mirana’s high, rose-petal cheeks on porcelain skin, her rosebud mouth—adorable when she pouted, glorious when she smiled—those were all Desde’s. As were their daughter’s shoulders when she tightened them in fear. As his wife was doing now. Desde closed her mind from him.

He frowned and went over to her.

She swallowed audibly. “Perhaps she sensed the grynwen hunting you and found you that way?”

Kaarl shook his head. “Binthe did not sense them.”

“Maybe you weren’t hidden as well as you thought. You and the others were exhausted from sevendays of fighting and riding.”

He thought about this possibility for a moment, then rejected it. When the vicious carnivores attacked, he could not sense Morgan Jord until his defender second dropped the cloak of U’Nehíl to fight, and he had been only a few yards away.

“She called me,” he replied, his voice a whisper. “She found me.”

She turned. “We cannot continue to do this. It is time. We must speak with Tetric.”

“He already knows.”

Her eyes widened. “Everything?”

“No, but he suspects it.” ... He heard her, too ...

The sleet and fog he encountered in the Kana-Akün had followed him home. Icy pellets beat at the window the way unwanted conclusions beat at his mind. Rime ice coated the metal escutcheons of the window and the torchlight embrasures in the courtyard below. Beyond the learning hall sat the many homes and shops of Deren. Beyond that, the great walls, as thick as two men lying head to toe, encircled the city. Somewhere beyond the apple orchards and the fields flowed the Garnath River far to the north and the border with the Kana-Akün province. He was no seer, but his father’s heart conjured up an image of the frost-paled fields blackened by dark-armored Ken’nar, all marching down from Falantir to take his daughter from him.

He turned to face his wife. “Do you think she knows?” As soon as the words left his lips, he wished he hadn’t asked the question. He didn’t want to know the answer.

Desde shrugged sadly and shook her head. “I would have thought she would have come to me if she had questions. She doesn’t speak with me like she used to, but I thought that was because she’s becoming a young woman. It’s a natural part of growing up, I suppose. The Aspects Above know I didn’t tell my father half of what I did when I was her age.”

A small smile tugged at one corner of Kaarl’s mouth. More often than not, he had been the reason Desde had not told Toban how she was spending her days. “But to not speak up about this?” she continued. “To willfully keep silent? I don’t know whether to be furious or terrified.”

“I have fears even darker than Mirana’s silence on this.”

His wife stiffened. “I know what you are alleging. Do not dare speak it. He would have had to know where to look, when to listen to have heard her. Kaarl, with this call of hers, we can’t protect her anymore. It is time. We need to give her to Tetric.”

“No.” He again clenched his hands into fists. This time they were balled up not in anger, but in determination. “We are her parents. We know what’s best for her, and we will protect her. As we’ve always done.”

“Our lies can no longer keep her safe. She’s nearly sixteen. She will choose an amulet in just two more summers. If she doesn’t understand now, she certainly will by then. We must speak with her and tell her. Everything. She needs Tetric Garis now. Not us.”

“We agreed to wait until she’s ready to choose an amulet. When she can defend herself.”

She held his arm tightly. “I don’t think we can wait that long anymore. Not after this. Tetric Garis is the Light Trine of the prophecy. We all would have come to believe it through his success at turning back the Ken’nar time and again, even if the Aspects Above hadn’t placed that destiny on his shoulders. He’s the only one who can protect—”

He now gripped both of Desde’s arms. “He’s also a man, and he’s not invincible. I’ve seen him bleed.”

“Ai, exactly. It terrifies me to say it, but what if Mirana is the one to rebuild like the prophecy says—because Tetric will not survive?”

He dropped his hands. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? The Ken’nar are no longer loosely aligned bands of barbarians raiding unsuspecting farmers. They have become preternaturally skilled in attacking us. They must be led by the Dark Trine. No mere warlord ever won such victories against the Fal’kin. With Tetric Garis as the Light Trine, the Ken’nar bastard will want nothing more than to see him dead. If we give Mirana to Tetric, she could be killed in his wake. If he dies, the Dark Trine’s eye will be fixed on Mirana.” His amulet gave off a ruddy glow in the firelight.

Desde cupped her topaz amulet in her hands, staring into its sulfurous facets. ... If she understands why she could make such a call to you, why hasn’t she come to us, Ama? ...

... Ëo no compre ... Kaarl pulled his wife into his arms. ... The only thing I do know is that our lie is the only thing keeping her alive ...

He hoped the conviction of his words would strengthen Desde’s. And his own.

CHAPTER 6

“Like a thief in the night, the Power from Without steals. Remain watchful that even thy Aspects are not taken from thee.”

—The Book of Kinderra

––––––––

Mirana gave up on sleep, her thoughts advancing and retreating like defenders in battle. Somewhere behind the overcast skies, the midnight stars wheeled ever closer to dawn.

The army of riders. Thousands of them. At Two Rivers Ford. Were they Fal’kin? Ken’nar? The images had appeared so quickly in her mind, she never had time to look for uniforms, standards, anything.

She rose from bed, slipped on leggings and a linen tunic, and stomped into her boots. She reached for a woolen sweater. Woven for a man more than twice her size, it hung nearly to her knees. She inhaled its scent as she pulled it over her head. Paithe. She would always keep something of his when he went away on a tour of duty in case it might be the only thing she’d have left of him.

She cinched the sweater with a belt around her waist and picked up her small belt knife. She paused, studying it. The blade was not much longer than her index finger, meant more for slicing apples than anything else.

She had never really used a weapon before, other than a few months of training summers ago with the defenders. She had certainly never seen combat before. Well, not with her mortal eyes. She had seen plenty of battles and studied them—in all their gruesome, if insubstantial, detail—through her Seeing Aspect with her mother and her fellow seer scholaire’e.

Someday, warfare would be all too real, no longer just moving pictures in her mind. She regarded the knife a moment longer, then tucked it into the sheath on her belt.

She flopped back down on the bed and listened to the sleet scratching at the window. Thoughts, elated and fearful, came at her again, vanguard legions of worry bent on breaking the line of her battalion mind’s effort to repel them.

No doubt her father would tell her mother she had called to him when, in all likelihood, she should not have been able to. Sick little rushes dribbled through her belly.

She sniffed the sweater’s fabric once more, another smell now tickling her nostrils. Ashtar.

Her father’s enormous chestnut warhorse stood seventeen hands high if he was a finger. He was all muscle and hooves, nearly impervious to the charges from Ken’nar steeds. He used his great head as a battering ram to unseat any black-armored warrior who dared approach him. Her father once remarked Ashtar seemed more like a war machine clad in a copper coat than a living, breathing destrier.

Her father was home in one piece as much from Ashtar’s efforts as her warning call. The very least she could do was feed the horse a midnight snack.

Mirana stepped out of her room, crept down the hallway, and hurried into the night. Sleet prickled at her face as she darted across an exterior portico. She blinked back the icy droplets and ducked into another interior corridor.

The dozens of rooms on either side of the hallway were still empty. Lord Garis and the fifty troops from his Dar-Azûlan provincial forces that had ridden to Deren with her father from Kana-Akün must be embedded elsewhere in the hall. At one time, every single room in the learning hall had been occupied. The never-ending war was very good at creating vacancies. The Trine’s men and women helped bring some life back into the compound, but the months of fighting had been as hard on them as on her father, the il’Kin, and Kin-Deren’s provincial forces. Most of the Dar-Azûlans’ minds were either closed or somber. A few suffered pain as they recovered from wounds, both physical and otherwise.

She could not keep up the charade of healing in secret with Teague much longer. She risked exposing her Trine powers whenever she did so, but how could she possibly leave someone in pain—or worse—when she could do something about it? At least she was trying to do something useful and not completely shirk her duty. Still, his mother, if not both his parents, already suspected she might have the Healing Aspect. How long would it be before they would tell her own parents? She gritted her teeth.

She trotted down a set of stairs and paused under a covered portico. Torchlight around the yard glowed in diffuse orange spheres in the cold fog. Mirana dashed across the learning hall’s courtyard toward the stables, squinting against the stinging ice and frigid rain. Once inside, she shook the wet hair from her eyes and wiped away the rain from her face.

A presence rang through her Aspects. Taddie.

She frowned. Any other time she would have welcomed spending time with the young stable boy. Tonight, however, she preferred the company of animals.

Taddie jumped up as she drew near. “Oh. Scholaira Mirana.”

She smiled. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t startle me. My Seeing Aspect told me you were coming,” the boy replied proudly, then his mouth stretched in an enormous yawn.

She raised an eyebrow. “Did it now?” She brushed a blond curl from his sleepy eyes. “Are you guarding the horses all by yourself tonight?”

The boy shook his head. “Defender Isel just stepped out for a late dinner after he gave me mine. It took us a long time to get the horses of Lord Garis’s troops settled. I wanted to stable the Lord Trine’s stallion, but Patrua Isel said he was too much for me. The beast didn’t even like him, pulling against him and all.”

“That is surprising. Defender Isel knows horses almost as well as the horses know themselves.”

Taddie smiled brightly. “He says if I spend as much time learning about horses as I do my Seeing Aspect, someday I could be as good with them as he is.”

She patted his shoulder. “I bet you will be.”

“What are you doing down here? It’s late.” The little seer yawned again.

“No, it’s very early. I couldn’t sleep. I guess I’m too excited to have my father home. I’m going to see to Ashtar for a bit.”

She began to scoop some oats from a large barrel into a nearby bucket, then jumped back with a yelp. Several mice scurried out. Taddie gestured to a broom against the wall and it flew into his hand. He swept at the mice and sent them squeaking and running into the straw.

Mirana laughed. “Maybe you should be a battle seer instead of a horse breeder.”

The little boy stuck out his chest. “I am going to be both.”

“You certainly did very well learning your numbers and glyphs in our lessons earlier. At this rate, you’ll be ready for your amulet before me.”

He looked down at his boots for a moment. ... When you get your amulet, will you help me see some past skeins of time? ... I miss my maithe and paithe ... Seeing them will almost be like having them here again ... Even if it is only a vision ...

“Oh, Taddie.” She gathered the boy in her arms. “I have a better idea. I’ll show you how when you get your own amulet. That way you can see them whenever you want.” He nodded. “Here. Help me get some more oats for Ashtar.”

When she and the boy finished doling out the feed, she asked, “Do you have a curry brush and a sheepskin mitt handy?”

The young seer scholaire nodded again and gestured toward the items hanging among some stable tools pegged to the wall. They floated to his hand as he called to them.

She sent a notion of thanks when he gave them to her. ... Why don’t you get some more sleep ... I don’t think even horse thieves would be out on a night like this ... And I promise I won’t tell Defender Isel ...

He looked up at her with a bashful half-grin, dimples dotting his cheeks, and nodded. She squeezed his shoulder, picked up the feed bucket, and made her way down the line of paddocks.

Mirana peered up at the timber beams of the stable’s ceiling as she walked, each one as thick as her body. They had to be strong to support four more stories of the learning hall rising above the stable. The immense aisles of paddocks always made her feel as though she stood in a roof-covered city, the stalls like homes to hundreds of horses instead of people. Legend said the stable was so large, it once housed every horse in Kinderra. It was a preposterous claim, of course, but it did take a small army of Fal’kin and Unaspected to maintain it.

An army. Thousands.

She shook her head to clear it. As she neared Ashtar’s paddock, she looked over her shoulder. Taddie’s mind had quieted in slumber. A deep-throated whuffling rumbled as she approached a stall on the left.

“Ashtar, you big brute.”

She set down the brushes and the bucket, and threw her arms around the horse’s great neck. She buried her face against his coat as he greedily ate the oats before she could pour them into his feeding trough. He smelled of leather and the sweet grassiness of fresh hay. She inhaled again and now detected a more pungent odor. She scowled. A poultice was wrapped midway down his left hind flank, secured with bandages.

“You were wounded?”

She rubbed the white blaze running down Ashtar’s face, then swept a hand along his side as she walked to his hindquarters, stopping at the poultice. The horse snorted. His muscles shivered at her touch, and he stamped his white-socked hoof. She made a low, soothing noise.

Torn flesh. Four lacerations. Claws. Muscles intact. A painful redness spreads.

The wound wasn’t deep, but infection had started. Thankfully, her father returned when he did and got the horse some attention. Untreated wounds easily festered out in the wilds.

She returned to the horse’s head and stroked his broad, velvety nose. “If I only had an amulet, Ashtar, I would fix this in a heartbeat.” And yet.

Could she tell Teague’s parents—her own parents—that she had been a healer all along and hadn’t realized it? That her temporal visions had simply been lifted from other seers’ minds because she was so acutely attuned to their bodies? Every time she had a vision, she’d just say it was some other seer’s and she picked up on it as she healed the person. That way, she could keep using her Trine gifts in secret and honor her duty privately, and no one would be the wiser. Ai, that might actually work. She scowled and bit her lip.

Wouldn’t it?

She picked up the brush and began to curry the horse’s ruddy coat, staying well away from his left hind leg.

Ai, she would be able to heal wounds, even life-threatening ones, with an amulet. It would be such a greater use of her healing gift than merely blunting some pain as she did now. She wanted to heal. Oh, Aspects Above, how she wanted to. She wanted to embrace all her gifts, honor her duty, and serve as a Fal’kin, fully in communion with an amulet and her Trine Aspects. Someday, though, an amulet in her hands would not heal. It would threaten lives, not save them. She knew this. She had seen it. Almost every night for four summers.

Jasal’s Keep. Rising two hundred feet in the air, wreathed in lightning. The sense of a desperate battle, thousands fighting, dying. A physical agony more than a mortal could bear. A rage so incendiary, it burned as bright as a thousand amulets. Grief, a desolation so deep, it bled the life from her. Betrayal so raw it shattered her soul into countless shards. And a white light. A light of awesome power. Of terrible power. Of magnificence. Of destruction. The explosion of light left her with a complete and utter “endness,” at once glorious and final.

What exactly was the white light in Jasal’s Keep? Some manifestation of her evil? The Aspects Above reaching down from the heavens to destroy her for her sins yet to be committed?

Something rubbed Mirana’s leg. She cried out and dropped the curry brush.

“Cider, you scared me half to death.” A large cream-and-orange-striped tomcat purred against her calf. She glanced down the dim row of stalls. Taddie was still asleep.

She picked up the cat and nuzzled the soft fur between his ears. “I think you came to the stables not so much to see me and Ashtar as to catch the mice eating his nighttime snack.” She kissed the cat and set him down. He padded over to the corner of the paddock, curled into a knot, and closed his eyes to slits. “You can’t fool me. You’re no more asleep than I am.”

She retrieved the curry brush and ran it along Ashtar’s sinewy forequarters.

If her parents, if the other Fal’kin, found out she was a Trine, they would compel her to choose an amulet right away, regardless of the age custom. They would think her possession of the Trine powers was a blessing, her three Aspects were desperately needed to stop the Ken’nar. To create the enormous destruction she sensed in her keep vision of white light, however, would most certainly require an amulet. To leverage that kind of power without one would kill her. If she told them she could not take up an amulet because of the destruction she would bring at Jasal’s Keep, they wouldn’t believe her and say it was impossible. They would say she misunderstood what she was seeing, that it was perhaps just a dream. But she knew it was no dream. Someday, some mistake, some choice, some path would lead her to perpetrate all the horror she saw at Jasal’s Keep. She would destroy all she loved and bring to ruin all for which her people fought. She would rather disavow her duty, her birthright than let that happen.

She’d rather die.

A soft note from her Healing Aspect whispered to her again. Her hand neared a scrape on Ashtar that had scabbed over.

She sighed and looked up at the rafters. “Why? Why give me these powers if I can’t use them?”

In hindsight, she knew she had been born with the Healing Aspect, too, as well as her other powers. As a child, however, she had been too young to understand visions of a bleeding wound or a lung filling with fluid were any different than the visions of seers. It wasn’t until she was older that she realized what she truly was.

She and Teague, both just past twelve summers, had climbed one of the apple trees in the orchards outside of Deren’s walls. Teague, showing off for her, climbed too high on a branch too small. The tree limb snapped, and he fell. The stark picture of the two jagged white ends of the broken bones in his arm had speared into her mind. Bleeding, inflammation, and other signs of which she had no concept pulled at her.

A power had welled up in her, an almost undeniable need to correct the cacophony of “wrongness” she sensed, but she didn’t know how to direct it. In the end, she had done more harm than good. Tiny bits of bone, so small they could only be seen by a trained Fal’kin healer, fused in the wrong order. She had fainted from the ordeal, and Teague’s parents had to re-break his arm to keep him from being maimed.

The vision of Jasal’s Keep came to her that night and forever changed her. When she awoke from unconsciousness, she finally understood what she was.

She was a Trine. And she would someday destroy Kinderra.

Mirana paused in currying Ashtar. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. Why have the Aspects Above cursed me like this?” The horse snorted and resumed munching on the oats. “Some help you are.”

She walked around to the other side, stroking his neck as she crossed in front of him. She set the curry brush down and picked up the sheepskin mitt. His copper coat gleamed under her long strokes, and she made sure to stay away from the scab.

People could call the one who led the Ken’nar whatever they wanted, but she knew better. She wasn’t just a Trine. She was a Trine of the prophecy. She would become the Dark Trine. As evil as the Trine at the head of the Ken’nar was, she had yet to hear of him doing anything like she would do someday. Ai, he decimated armies and outposts—all horrific enough—but laying waste to the entire citadel of Deren? And the hundreds of thousands that lived there? No. That would be her.

Someday.

She stopped stroking Ashtar.

The damnable thing was an amulet could help her control and understand her power, but she couldn’t possibly choose an amulet and put Kinderra at risk for the destruction she saw.

How could she not choose an amulet and use her Aspects when they might actually do some good, at least in the immediate present? Was the only way to save Kinderra’s future to refuse to choose an amulet and let horrible things happen now?

Choose an amulet and risk all she loved. Not choose an amulet and turn her back on all she loved. It was an impossible choice.

A cry of frustrated desperation escaped her throat, and she threw down the mitt. She wanted to cry, but weeping had long ceased to comfort her. She rested her forehead against the horse’s shoulder, feeling him breathe, hearing the beating of his heart, sensing the robust life within him.

“No matter what I choose, Ëi cara, Kinderra will suffer. There must be some way. Why would the Aspects Above make me their Trine if they didn’t want me to use my powers? What would make me do all of what I see at Jasal’s Keep? I love Kinderra.” She lifted her head, searching once more for a godhead who created all but only gave her silence.

She retrieved the sheepskin mitt and wiped Ashtar’s coat forcefully, scrubbing away the memory of the nightmare.

Ashtar whinnied and stomped his left leg. The muscles near his wound trembled under her mitted hand. “Ashtar. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m trying.” She pulled the mitt off, letting it fall, and stared at her hands. So powerful. So powerless. “By the Light, I am trying. I’m trying to do good, to be good. I’m trying to do the right thing. I keep hoping if I do enough good, it will change my destiny. But it doesn’t. Nothing I ever do changes it.”

Her hand drifted to her belt knife. There was always that. She let her hand fall away.

She dropped to sit in the hay next to the cat. The indecision paralyzed her. “You have no idea how lucky you are.” She gave Cider a sad smile and stroked his fur. He stretched, kneaded her with his paws, then coiled back into a sleepy ball.

She picked up the brush and traced her finger along the stiff bristles. “Skeins of the future always change. Little things. Big things. Only until the future becomes the present do we truly know what is to happen. Why doesn’t my keep vision ever change, Cider?”

And if the destruction was so terrible, why was it that no other seer—even her mother, even her grandfather—never mentioned it or accused her?

She tilted her head back, searching the unforgiving rafters for answers. “You’ve given this future vision to me and only me, haven’t you? Why? Why are you torturing me? What have I ever done to deserve your punishment?”

She set the brush back down and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes until sparks danced against the insides of her eyelids. They looked all too much like flashes of amulet fire.

Even though his cowardice tainted her family’s name to this day, maybe Jasal Pinal had been right to leave. Maybe his own Trine powers proved too overwhelming, too damning, so he left Deren. Maybe he believed abandoning his people to their fate at the hands of the Ken’nar was better than remaining and bringing about wholesale destruction at his own hands. If she, too, abandoned the Fal’kin, would she save them?

She could run away with Teague.

“I don’t want to leave you, Ashtar, nor leave Maithe and Paithe, but maybe you’d all be safer.” Her heart beat wildly in her chest at the sudden hope of an escape from her dilemma. “Ai, Teague and I could join in union and run away to the ocean. Oh, we could have a little cottage and even a garden. And...and chickens! Oh-oh and apple trees! I could grow medicinal plants for him. He could use his herbsman’s skills to care for the people who homestead on the coastal plains.” He could hide her. Hide her Aspects from Kinderra.

Ashtar snorted as he munched on oats. She frowned. “Gratas fár Oëa comprendean, you big brute.”

Mirana sought Teague’s mind from among the hundreds in the learning hall. He was awake and waiting for her, hoping she’d come and find him.

She rose and paused at the paddock’s gate. A thought spiked, stealing her breath. Would he be caught up in her destiny of destruction? She gripped the gate with both hands. “No. Please. Anything but that.”

She would not let that happen. If she had to put hundreds of miles between them to save Teague’s life, she would.

Hundreds.

Lightning flares. Five hundred riders race over the hills outside Two Rivers Ford. Black armor encases them like charred skeletons. Ken’nar. Inhuman howls fill the air. Grynwen. Their blood-red eyes wink with an insatiable hunger in the lightning. Rain falls. Down, down, a deluge from the dark sky. Lightning flashes again. A massive force of fighters surges to meet the Ken’nar. Red eagles on a gold field. Fal’kin. From Kin-Deren province. Thousands. The Fal’kin engulf the scant hundreds of Ken’nar. A sea of amulets and swords. Kin-Deren fighters drive the black-armored warriors toward the Ford’s southern bridge over the Great Anarath River.

Power grows within her. Building, consuming. Her chest aches, burns. The power demands to be freed. She must release the power.

Shreds of clouds reveal the bloody dawn. Gabrial, the Guiding Star, slowly fades in the west over the Dar-Anar Mountains. Distant lightning flares again. Jasal’s Keep. Rage. Desolation. Agony. She grips a sword, raising it against an unseen foe. Power grows within her. She must release it. She can no longer contain it. White light. Exploding.

Mirana screamed.

The stable snapped back before her eyes. Her fist clutched the knife from her belt.

... Mirana? ... came Taddie’s sleepy call. ... Are you all right? ...

She gasped, trying to recover her breath. It was the same attack on Two Rivers Ford, the same premonition she’d had in the healing hostel—except it all had changed. She thought she saw thousands of Ken’nar in the earlier iteration she had in the hostel, but it happened so quickly, she wasn’t even sure it was a true vision. Now, the thousands she saw were not Ken’nar at all, but Fal’kin.

“How could I have been so wrong? I’ve never made a mistake like this before.” She gripped her head. “What is happening to me?”

“Mirana?” Taddie jogged over to her.

She held both his arms. “Did you see something? Just now, or-or at all today? An unbidden vision?” The boy looked down at his boots and nodded. She gave him a gentle shake. “What? Tell me.”

“I saw I would be thrown from that gray palfrey mare your brepaithe used to ride. Bankin. I was frightened, so I didn’t exercise her as I should have.” He kept his gaze lowered. “I’m sorry.”

“Taddie.” She held him. “Just walk her tomorrow morning. Ride her later when you feel more comfortable.”

“You’re upset.” He lifted his face, bottom lip trembling. “With me?”

“No.” She stared at the knife in her hand. “With me.”

Mirana sheathed the small blade and ran from the stables. Once outside, she passed a man, his face battered by more than just the elements. His right leg, wooden from the knee down, told even more of his past.

“Mirana? What the blazes are you doing up at this hour, girl?” he shouted as she ran past.

“I can’t talk now, Defender Isel. Ben nöc!” She did not stop.

“It’s more like ‘ben dia.’ If I find young Herbsman Teague loitering about again this late, it’s not me you’ll have to talk to,” he called after her. “Your father’s home, I hear.”

Aspects Above! If only all she had to worry about was a late-night kiss from Teague.

And not an impending calamity.

CHAPTER 7

“Ama u’vide tuda. Ama tudsa vide tuda.”

(“Love blinds all. Love also sees all.”)

—Ora Fal’kinnen 32:68–69

––––––––

Teague shifted on the frozen flagstones just outside the corridor entrance leading to his family’s rooms. He breathed on his even more frozen fingers. The springtime sleet had drifted off to the south, but the stars and the rest of the learning hall were still obscured by icy fog. The cold penetrated through the cloak he had thrown over his homespun shirt and breeches.

He heard footsteps race up a flight of stairs. On the opposite side of the landing spanning the courtyard, a torch sprang to ruddy life, its light softened by the mist.

Mirana emerged from the shadows. Her raven hair plastered against her forehead and neck in a rain-soaked sheet and the old woolen sweater she wore hung down to her knees with the weight of the wetness. She rushed into his arms, and he wrapped his cloak around them both.

“I almost thought you weren’t coming.”

“How long would you have waited?”

He smiled down at her. “As long as it took.” He held her tighter, a very good thing as he was freezing. She had a way of making him warm up inside and out. Her body was warm against his, but she was shaking. She wasn’t cold.

Oh no. She was scared. So, she did see something in the infirmary earlier that afternoon.

“What is it, Miri?”

“I saw something I don’t understand.”

He hated it when he was right about Mirana’s fear.

“Well, I mean I do,” she continued, “but it doesn’t make any sense. It’s completely different.” Her words came out in a rush.

He stroked her hair. “Does this have to do with what happened with that boy Maark?” When she looked up at him, he smiled. “I knew something happened.”

“A premonition came to me. At least I think it was a premonition. I wasn’t sure at first. Then I had it again. The same one. Now? I’m so confused. It was—” she shook her head slowly, “only it was completely different.”

“Different? How can that be?”

“I don’t know,” she cried into his chest. “I have to say something to my mother, but I don’t know what to tell her.”

“The truth?”

She stood back from him. He curled up one corner of his mouth. “I’ve never lied to her. Not in so many words. I’ve just decided to say nothing. About some things. For a while.”

He continued to grin. “So, lies of omission are not really lies?”

“Teague.” She glared at him.

“All right, all right. We’ll save that debate for another day. C’mere.” He pulled her back into his arms. “What did you see that has you so upset?”

She breathed into his chest in exasperation. “I saw two completely different versions of the same event. Or I think so, anyway. No one’s called an alarm yet, which means no one else has seen this battle. So, I’m the first to see something. Again.” She turned her face to rest her cheek against him. “Details change all the time as an occurrence gets closer to reality, but a completely different vision? That never happens. To me, anyway.”

Teague rested his lips on the top of her head. Even wet, her hair smelled good. “So, tell your mother both versions.”

She leaned back, frowning. “It’s not as simple as that. To figure out what’s going on, regardless if others have seen something or not, my mother and the seers would all work together to corroborate the vision. We all enter each other’s minds and look at everybody’s visions. That’s how it works. That’s how seers work together.”

It was his turn to frown. “I know how it works. Just because I can’t do it, doesn’t mean I don’t understand it.”

She waved her hand, dismissing his comment. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. We see everyone’s visions. And the more similar they are, the more something is likely to happen that way, right?”

“Right.” What was she getting at?

“And sometimes, we have to read deeply. Without an amulet, reading someone’s visions from her mind and having mine read is the only way I have to study and learn a vision.”

Her nightmare vision. The keep. Everything for the last few summers was about Jasal’s Keep. “So you can’t risk them discovering details they shouldn’t.”

The frustrated expression in her moonlight eyes became one of defeat. She turned into his chest once more. “They wouldn’t believe even if I told them about the keep. They’d say I got it wrong somehow.”

“But they would see what you’d see,” he whispered into her hair. “Wouldn’t that help?”

She let out a growl of frustration. “No. Because they wouldn’t feel what I’m feeling. Sense what I’m sensing. They’re not...me. And, on top of it all, I’m going to have to speak up about the grynwen and my warning to my father. I’m sure he’s told Maithe by now.”

“Miri.” He held her tighter and kissed her forehead. “Why didn’t you tell her right away?”

“I intended to. I got scared when I didn’t hear back from my father.” She frowned. “I thought, well, I thought I might have killed him.”

“I don’t think your father is so easily killed, even if you startled him with your call.”

He held her back from him to see her face in the diffuse torchlight. “Or maybe the real reason you haven’t told your mother is that you’re afraid you did the right thing? And she’d want to know more about how you did manage to call him. Which, if you told her the truth, you know full well how she’d react. She’d want you to choose an amulet. Two summers early.”

She frowned at him and shook her head. “I can’t let that happen. At least, not yet.”

“Not until you find a way to change your keep vision. Or avoid it altogether.” Teague exhaled, his breath turning to smoke in the damp, cold air.

It was a keep vision, all right. It kept hold of her and never let go. And not in a good way, like he would.

She nodded slowly and rubbed her eyes. “Besides, with Brepaithe Toban’s death just a few months ago and her having to take over the province, she’s got enough to worry about without me adding to the heap.” She let her hands drop to her sides.

Jasal’s Keep stood in the center of the learning hall’s courtyard. Without the moon, it was an imposing black spire shrouded in the frigid gloom. Maybe she wasn’t wrong to be frightened. If he saw that monstrous thing exploding on top of him night after night, he’d probably be a bit jumpy, too. But what he could never understand—refused to—was she somehow felt responsible for the white light she claimed was destructive.

Mirana scooped butterflies out of horse drinking troughs to save them. That hardly sounded like someone who would turn into a mass murderer someday.

Then again, he saw what the war did to good defenders as he served in his parents’ healing hostel. The endless rampage of death turned decent people, well, not decent.

He’d never let that happen to Mirana. She might not like it, but he was never so happy as when her parents decided she would become a hall seer instead of a battle seer serving on the front lines.

Teague rubbed her arms, brushing some of the frost from her sweater. “Maybe you’d be removing something from your mother’s heap? I guess I can understand why you’re not ready to tell her yet you’re a Trine. But your mother’s not stupid. She knows your Seeing Aspect is as strong as it comes. She could maybe use your help.”

She blew out her breath, its mist slowly rising in the cold, damp air. “I should have told her right away about Paithe.”

“Probably.”

“Now that he’s home, it’s ridiculous to pretend anymore.”

“Definitely.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed an irritated but amused laugh. “You’re no help.”

He took a lock of damp, jet hair and twined it around his fingers. “No, I’m very good help. You’re just a terrible listener.”

She put her arms around his waist. “Probably.”

He laughed. “Definitely.”

Teague held her in his arms in silence for a few breaths. Instead of relaxing into his embrace like she usually did, she tensed. “Mirana?”

“Seriously, though. Does this make me a bad person?”

He screwed his mouth into a grimace. “You’re not a bad person, but maybe keeping your warning a secret wasn’t a good thing.” He lightly kissed her forehead. “You can still come clean, you know.”

“I know, I know. I will. Maybe she’ll just take my word for it and not pick around in my brain for more.”

“And if she does?”

She pushed him away. “Dammit, Teague.” She turned and strode away a few steps, her hands clenched into fists.

Sometimes, there was no winning with her. “Ama, I didn’t mean to upset you. But it just might be time to get some help with all of this. Your warning is going to come out. And so is whatever the hell you saw in the infirmary today. Your Aspects. The damn keep thing. This is bigger than you can handle alone.” He moved closer to her. “I’d do anything to help you, you know that, but all of this might be bigger than the both of us. It’s ripping you apart. And I can’t stand to see that.”

“You’re right.” She spun suddenly back into his arms. “Take me away. Now. Tonight. I’ll tell Mother and Father about the grynwen and these two confusing forewarnings, and then we will run to the ocean and never come back.” She pulled him by the wrist toward a stairway. “Please, let’s just go. We’ll leave everything behind. Please.”

“Look, there are days when I hate it here at the learning hall. With all the Aspected—” He shook his head. Oh, how he’d love to leave some days. But it wasn’t like there weren’t Fal’kin—to say nothing of Ken’nar—everywhere. Deren was as much a hell as anyplace else.

He took her hand from his wrist and held it in both of his. “Ai, you should tell them. Everything. If they start to question you about things you don’t want to answer, well, we’ll figure that out. Maybe then you can give them a proper lie.”

“That’s not funny.” She pulled out of his arms and walked over to lean on the landing’s railing.

He just couldn’t say the right thing tonight. “This double premonition thing. Was it a battle?”

Once again, she tensed. “I can’t keep asking you to put yourself in danger for me. You’ve already done so much. Keeping all my secrets.”

Huh?

“What—?” The halted question died in a puff of frozen breath. “Danger? Because I haven’t told a soul what you asked me to keep confident? My parents aren’t that cruel.” He shrugged. “Then again, they could make me haul the healing hostel refuse to the midden pits. I do that already, though, so I guess I don’t know what they would do.”

He rested his forearms on the walkway railing and knocked his shoulder against hers. “I was trying to make you laugh.”

She bit her bottom lip as her eyes began to shimmer. “It’s better you don’t know.”

Oh, Lights. The lip. She was really upset. “You’re keeping secrets from me now?”

She covered her eyes with her hands. “I have to tell my mother. I know this. Lives are at stake.” She slapped her palms down on the railing. “If I do, though, all the rest could fall apart.”

“So, you’re afraid if they read your mind deeply enough to understand the inconsistencies of whatever you saw, they will find out you’re a Trine? And maybe even see your vision of Jasal’s Keep?” She nodded. “You can’t be the one who brings all that destruction. You just can’t be.”

“Then why doesn’t the vision ever change? I’ve done all I can think of to change my future in some way, but it is always the same. Always.”

“I don’t know.” He held her shoulders then slipped his hands up to hold her face. In the flickering torchlight, her eyes shown with unreleased tears like moonlight reflecting on ice. “But I do know you are not evil or another Dark Trine or anything like that, and you never will be. If you truly want to leave, I will take you anywhere you want to go. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

She leaned into the warm safety of his arms. He touched his lips to her forehead, the bridge of her nose. She lifted her face to his. He bent his head down, resting his lips on hers, letting the heat of his body and his love fill her. He pressed the small of her back toward him and deepened their kiss. She opened her mouth to his, inviting him in, and he eagerly accepted. He had no Healing Aspect, but he could feel her heartbeat quicken against his chest mirroring his own passion.

Mirana made a small gasp of surprise. “Your parents are coming.”

Teague swore under his breath and stepped back from her.

His father walked through the corridor door onto the landing, Teague’s mother just behind. Always a stern man, Teague adored him nonetheless for the great lengths he went to heal his patients. But he hated—hated even more than Mirana’s keep nightmare—the deep, barely discernible sadness behind his father’s stoicism when Teague couldn’t help patients himself.

If anything would boot him out the door, it was his father’s pity.

Teague resembled his father closely—green and brown and gold eyes like a sun-dappled forest, gilded-brown hair—but he rarely wore his father’s serious bearing. The very one his father wore right now.

“It is late, Mirana. Unless you have an emergency that requires healing, I’d suggest you go back to bed. Teague, go to your room.”

Teague kept his arm around her. “Father, can’t you see she’s upset?”

The pale-purple sapphire in his father’s amulet began to glow. The crystal’s hue always reminded him of spring-blooming lilac lilies. Except for now. “She appears to be many things but not upset. Mirana, your father is exhausted from a very long tour of duty. I would not want to have to wake him to collect you. Go to bed.”

“I had a nightmare, Patrua Tennen. Teague comforted me.”

He and his parents lived above the healing hostel. The location of their chambers was very convenient for patients and very inconvenient for Mirana and him when they wanted to be alone together.

Tennen frowned. “Apparently. Teague. Inside.”

Teague stood his ground. “I am not a child.”

His father planted his feet and crossed his arms, not yielding, either. “Maybe not, but you are an herbsman’s apprentice living under my roof.”

Teague turned to his mother. “Is this about her working with me this afternoon? If Mirana is going to be a battle seer someday, doesn’t it make sense she learns some aid? The battle seer unit is the first to be hit in any attack.”

His mother could look remarkably stern when she wanted to. “Her parents decided against her becoming a battle seer summers ago.”

Bloody hell. He was no better a liar than Mirana.

“Well, ai, but—”

His mother held up her hand, silencing him, “Biraen, I’ll not have you become ill from lack of sleep and this chill air.” His mother pointed to the door. “Go.”

He stepped closer to his parents. “You cannot make me—”

Tennen made a slight movement with his hand. The corridor door nudged open wider. “Now.”

“No, dammit. I’m sixteen. I might be an apprentice, but I’m not a child. I’ll see Mirana when I want to. And I’ll go to bed when I’m good and ready.”

“Teague.” Mirana laid a hand on his arm. He let out an explosive exhale. She turned to his parents. “I didn’t mean to keep him out in this foul weather.”

Niah drew closer to them. “You didn’t have a nightmare, did you?”

Maybe if Miri said something to his mother and father this time, it would help her. Aspects knew he was at a loss of what to do.

Her gaze, however, dropped to her boots. “I am so sorry if I interfered with Teague’s training in the healing hostel this afternoon. I like spending time there. It’s better than seeing. Sometimes, anyway.”

“Then why haven’t you come to us before?” his mother asked. “We could have spoken to your mother. We’ve often thought a seer working with us would be of great benefit. It would help us to know when an onslaught of casualties was to come. Or an epidemic. Or looking into the future for a prognosis when one eludes us.”

She had a point, a very good one. Teague reached for Mirana’s hand. It was cold.

“My mother said she needs me to concentrate on long-range forecasts. Weather. Ken’nar troop movements. I really shouldn’t spend time at the hostel at all. I didn’t mean to be in Teague’s way. I swear it.” She let go of his hand and turned to leave.

“Mirana, wait.” He started after her.

“Miri, Teague, please. Wait a moment,” his father said, his voice becoming the compassionate tenor he used when Teague came to him for help. “I am not blind. I know you have feelings for each other. Don’t you understand that this will harm you both?”

Harm them? Teague looked from his father to Mirana and back, and dug his fists into his hips. “How exactly, Father?”

“Son, she’s destined to be a Fal’kin. And you’re...not.”

“I can’t believe—” He shook his head, fury stealing the rest of his words. What was the point of finishing?

Tennen turned to Mirana. “Every day, he is surrounded by those who can touch the Aspects he cannot. It is like a spring of cool water just out of reach of a man dying of thirst.” His gaze shifted back to him. “I feel your pain, son. And it breaks my heart that there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“You’re right,” Teague replied. “There is nothing you can do about it.” He looked at his mother. “Either of you.” Even Mirana. The Aspects Above made him a failure in the eyes of his parents. But not Mirana. He put his arm around her. “But whether I can touch the Aspects or not has nothing to do with her.” He pulled her closer.

She peered up at him. “You don’t feel that way about me...do you? That I make you feel somehow ‘less than’ when I use my, well, when I see something?”

“Of course not!” He then glared at his father.

Tennen turned his own hard expression on Mirana. “I also know you have indeed healed to some degree more than a few of those who have come to the hostel. Just exactly how, I do not know.”

“I have not healed anyone—” She started to protest, but he held up his hand, silencing her. His hazel gaze bore down on her. “If you truly are a healer, if you truly have the Healing Aspect and are constantly showing our son that rare gift, one he desperately wants and can never have, it will shatter him—”

“Father!” Teague shouted.

“—I will not let that happen. If you care for him at all, you will let him go.”

“I would never hurt him. Ever. We love each other. You must know that.”

Teague threw his hands out wide. “How can you stand there, Father, and say these things?”

“I’m trying to save you both, son, from making a mistake,” his father replied. That shocked him. He fully expected a harsh reprimand. “I know you care for our son, Mirana, just as I know you’d never intentionally hurt him. But none of that matters. I am trying to spare you pain as well. It was difficult enough for his mother and me—” Tennen gestured to Niah, “joining in union despite coming from different provinces. No province ever likes to give up even just one Fal’kin to another province under any circumstance. An Aspected espoused to an Unaspected is far more difficult. Far more.”

“It’s not too difficult,” Teague replied. “Nothing I could do is too difficult for Mirana.”

His father shook his head sadly. “Teague, you’re not being logical.”

“Patrua, I know it must have been difficult for you and Matrua Niah,” Mirana nodded toward his mother, “but you found a way. You travel back to Tash-Hamar province every few summers to heal her people, and in doing so, received the blessing from not one but two provinces. If you found a way to have a future together, why can’t we?”

“Such a union just cannot be, no matter how much you both want it,” his father answered. “The chasm is just too wide. You both need to put this foolishness aside.”

Teague stalked up to his father, his hands clenched into fists. “How dare you?”

“Teague, that’s enough,” Niah cautioned. He took a breath and stepped back. “Tennen, we came out here to speak with Mirana, not about their relationship. That’s a discussion for another day. He’s nearly old enough to begin a journeyman’s sabbatical away from Deren anyway.”

She reached for Mirana’s hands. “Miri, biraena, seeing an injury from inside the body with the Healing Aspect can be frightening, but the Healing Aspect itself is nothing to be frightened of. If we have another healer in our midst, we would be blessed beyond all telling. The Aspects Above know there are enough injuries and disease in this land for a thousand Fal’kin healers.”

Teague put his hand on Mirana’s back to let her know—feel within him—his resolve to stand by her. No matter what happened. Even the keep. Maybe now she would say something.

But she didn’t. She just bit her lip and stared at Jasal’s Keep. Was she trying to prevent an intimate psychic connection with his mother? Seeing something about her nemesis? He couldn’t tell. He never could tell.

Mirana let go of his hand and flexed her fingers. He hadn’t realized he had crushed it in his grip.

“When you were born, Miri, your Aspect was so very strong but undefined,” his mother continued. “Could there be a reason you’re drawn to the hostel? A reason besides our son?”

Mirana tensed beside him. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was about to bolt. He sure as hell wanted to. He’d never been so angry and so worried at the same time.

Tennen sighed. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Miri. I, too, held you moments after you were born. I felt your gift then, but it was impossible to tell which Aspect it was shining within you. We all thought it was because you came to us so early. Do you think your Aspected sight might be the Healing Aspect? Or even something else? You can trust us. Please. Tell us.”

“Have you ever made a mistake with your Healing Aspect and killed a patient instead of saving him?” Her voice was quiet, distant. It would grow soft like that when she was frightened. Again, he put his arm around her, willing his love to her for her to sense.

His mother’s dark brows drew together in confusion as she glanced at his father and back to Mirana. “Not everyone can be saved, ai, that’s true. Wounds can be too grave, illness too advanced—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Mirana answered. “What if you wanted to use your Aspect to save lives, but you ended up harming people instead. What if you meant to do something, well, good, but ended up doing something horrible? How do you stop that from happening?”

Niah’s eyes widened. “Wh-What? Mirana, what are you trying to tell us?”

Mirana stepped out of his arms. “Miri?” Oh, this was so not good.

His father’s face, however, lost all expression. “Ëi biraena? Have you—” he swallowed, “have you hurt someone?”

“No! I would never want to hurt anyone.”

He shook his head slowly. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to. I asked you if you had.”

“No! I—no.” She did not meet his gaze.

He reached for her, but she moved farther away. “Mirana.”

“I am so sorry. I never meant to stand in Teague’s way. Ever. I need to go.”

“Miri, we want to help you. If you have the Healing gift, please let us show you how to use your blessing,” his mother tried once more.

“You don’t understand,” Mirana said, her voice dropping to a strangled whisper. “Sometimes the powers the Aspects Above give are not blessings. I won’t trouble you in the healing hostel anymore.”

She turned away from him, no longer meeting his eyes and hurried down the stairs, snuffing out the torchlight as she disappeared into the night.

Teague fought the urge to run after her, but he’d only alienate his parents from them more if he did. He had to do something, that much was certain. If he didn’t, he’d lose Mirana forever.

CHAPTER 8

“Confian ísi passenae tré qua seconda necesit íre.”

(“Trust is a passage through which two must journey.”)

—Ora Fal’kinnen 74:4

––––––––

Mirana hurried back through the corridors of the learning hall. She tripped on a broken slate tile, her feet numb from the cold, her heart numb with grief over her fading future with Teague.

Her mother had not sounded an alarm, nor had any of the other seers. No late-night—or early-morning, as it were—strategy session had been called. Had no one else seen any attack on Two Rivers Ford?

Regardless if other seers had a vision of what was to befall the Ford garrison, she had to tell her mother. She would have to submit her mind to examination by the seers. They could see so much more than she wanted to reveal. What then? Elope with Teague? Leave alone?

Dread now dragged at her and chained her footfalls. Could she run away with Teague? She loved him with her whole heart, and he loved her just as much. Even if they had yet to make love, the stolen moments they had shared told her as much of his feelings for her as any Aspect. A fourth Aspect in its strength. She knew he held deep pain from his lack of powers, but he had never hidden it from her. Did her three add to his unfounded sense of inadequacy? Was he hiding that? What if his father were right, and her love would break her beloved? Would he grow to hate her?

She paused when she reached the door leading to the hallway where her family’s rooms were located. The grynwen warning. The Ford premonitions. Her Trine Aspects. The keep. Now Teague. It all suddenly became too complicated, and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to bear it anymore.

Her mother’s primeship office was also down this hallway. It used to be Brepaithe Toban’s chambers. How many times had she run down the hall to Brepaithe with a difficult school lesson or trouble with a classmate or when Maithe scolded her?

Why couldn’t he have taken her with him when he died?

Desperation billowed up from the marrow of her bones. A sudden compulsion gripped her to run up the spire of Jasal’s Keep and beg the deadly white light she saw in her hellish vision to come down on top of her now and end any horror before it could begin.

She pressed her forehead against the entryway’s wood. “I don’t want this. Aspects Above, please take this from me. I beg of you.” She wanted it to end. All of it. All of it, except for Teague.

She gave the iron pull a hard tug and entered. She had taken two paces into the still hallway when another door opened, forcing her to stumble to a halt.

“What are you doing up at this hour?”

She sucked in her breath and looked up. And up.

“L-Lord Garis. You startled me.”

His black eyes glinted down at her like obsidian shards. A hematite amulet glowed in the center of his chest like a demon’s eye. The argent griffin of Dar-Azûl province’s heraldic on his black tunic appeared to glare back at her, too. Had she not met Trine Tetric Garis a few times during Quorumtide celebrations, she might have been frightened of him. Or maybe she was frightened anyway.

“You are far too talented to have anyone startle you.”

His dark hair was streaked with silver and a frown tugged at the close-cropped beard outlining the sharp angles of his face. Was everything about him all hard and black and silver?

“I apologize if I disturbed you, my lord. I couldn’t sleep after all the excitement of having my father home. Why are you awake?” She winced. She didn’t mean the comment to sound so forward. This was Lord Tetric Garis, for Aspects’ sakes.

The tall Trine’s scowl deepened. “I have had a vision. I was about to go see your mother despite the inconvenient hour.”

Oh, thank the Aspects Above. Someone else had seen the attack.

“I have heard you are quite adept with your Seeing Aspect. Perhaps we are well met after all.” His expression softened into a smile. Well, not exactly a smile. She didn’t think the serious man was capable of expressing anything more jovial than mild annoyance.

“My lord?” She blinked as his mind pressed in on hers. Maybe it was too soon to feel relieved.

“I think you couldn’t sleep because you had a vision as well. I also think you are concerned, even frightened by what you saw. I am as well.” Although his voice was soft, its deep register drummed in her ears.

“I might have seen something,” she swallowed, “well, that is, I think—”

“I’d like to know exactly what it is you saw.” Lord Garis gestured for her to enter his room.

She quickly looked down the hallway to her parents’ chambers. “I wasn’t sure what it was. I was going to my mother with it right now.”

“Before we concern her, shouldn’t we try to understand what ‘it’ is, first?”

When he did not move, she sighed and stepped into his quarters. “Ai, sir.”

He shut the door behind him. “I have seen a battle at Two Rivers Ford. I think you have as well.” A chair scraped across the floor by pulled by the unseen hand of his Aspects. “Sit.”

She stood rigid. “I—”

He pointed to the seat. “Sit.”

The Trine’s longsword rested on its tip in the far corner of his room. It probably came up to her chin. She quickly sat on the edge of the chair.

His mind pressed heavily against hers again. “Now. What did you see?” He balled his hands into fists and rested them on his hips. Very. Large. Fists. Lord Garis took a step closer. He seemed as tall as Jasal’s Keep, and just as ominous.

She eyed the door. She couldn’t simply walk out on a living legend. “Maybe we should both just go to my mother?”

“And tell her what? I’m not exactly sure what I saw, either. I don’t want to tell the Seer Prime of Kin-Deren province something might be true when it is, in fact, wrong. Everyone thinks because I have three Aspects I’m somehow infallible.” He examined a scar on the back of his hand. “I’m not. Believe me.”

She was about to tell her mother and probably all the other seers in the hall. What was one more person? It was said he had spent many summers in hermitage when he was younger before he came back to Fal’kin society. Maybe he knew of a nice but desolate place in which to live. She hung her head. Tetric Garis, Trine Tetric Garis, of all people, would understand just how frightening the power she held within her was.

She blinked. He just might understand. Truly.

“I think I saw a battle, but I’m not sure I picked up anything of consequence,” she said at last.

He folded his long arms and continued to stare down at her. “Your fear moments ago cut through my mind. Like your warning call to your father.”

She tried to speak several intelligent replies, shock stomped them all flat, however. “Oh?”

He studied her a moment. With a sigh, he walked over to a small side table and leaned on it, his back to her. “I know you must be troubled by some of the things you see and what you can do. Seeing yourself do things in the future that you don’t understand in the present.” His voice was subdued and his shoulders sank a bit. “Finding a hidden mind and calling to it. I’ve never known anyone else who could do such an action, other than I.”

His emotions leaked from his mind to hers. He was concerned. About the Ford? About her? What was happening here? “It was my father, Lord Garis. I suppose I could find his presence anywhere.”

“Even under U’Nehíl?” He turned to face her again. Then, he did smile. A real, genuine one. Unfortunately, it was because he knew he had her.

She couldn’t quite match his expression with all the guilt she held. “I love my father. I love both my parents. I would do anything to save their lives.”

“I know. That’s why we need to understand what is to happen at Two Rivers Ford. I could use your help. I need corroboration for what I’ve seen. It’s not exactly easy for me to go to your mother, the prime—or any prime, for that matter—and tell her she needs to commit men and women to an action that will likely get some killed. The blood of the fallen is on my hands as well as hers.”

All her life, she had heard of Lord Tetric Garis, the Trine of Kinderra. He was larger than life, almost literally. He was like one of the heroes come to life out of the stories Brepaithe Toban would read to her at bedtime. Standing in front of her now, however, was not a demigod, but a war-weary man whose enormous burden weighed heavily on him. He reminded her more than a little of her father.

He returned to her and crouched in front of her, making his height less threatening. His gesture stunned her, so like her father would do when she was young and scared.

“You can do things other Aspected cannot. This makes you stand apart. I felt just as alone when I was your age.”

Mirana blinked once more. He was a Trine. Did he know? About her? Could he sense her own Trine Aspects? “Ai, it can be frightening sometimes. Seeing. Things.”

Lord Garis was perhaps the only person on the continent who could even begin to understand her deepest fears. Could he find a way around her destiny that she could not? Maybe that was too much to ask.

She sat up straighter in the chair. “I saw an attack on the Fal’kin garrison at Two Rivers Ford, only I saw two different versions of it. Or at least I think it’s two different versions. I saw one this afternoon just before Father and you arrived home. I saw thousands upon thousands of riders. I had another premonition later tonight, but I only saw several hundred riders, not even a thousand.”

He stood slowly and rubbed his beard. “That smaller force. That is what I saw tonight.”

She ran her fingers through her wet hair, trying to recall what few details she could. “In the earlier version, I thought, well, maybe I had seen an army of Ken’nar. Larger than any army I’ve ever seen.”

He dragged over another chair and sat across from her. “Start at the beginning. Tell me exactly what you saw.”

She hesitated. What was the point of her silence now? She told him this much, she might as well tell him everything. Well, almost everything. “The attack comes at night. During a storm. A sea of riders. I saw fighters resist them, but they were outmanned many times over. By the time morning breaks, thousands lie dead. Between the darkness and the loose weaving of the time skein, it was hard to tell who was fighting whom.”

He frowned and nodded. “From what direction did the riders come?”

She furrowed her brow in concentration. “I couldn’t tell, at least not in the first premonition. The fighting was already engaged. In the second, the Ken’nar, if that’s who they are, appear to come from the north. They cross the bridge over the Garnath River.”

“You saw the Ken’nar as the smaller force?”

She nodded. “In the second vision, the images were much clearer, but—” she searched for a word to explain a sense that defied description, “but it felt different.”

“Go on.”

Wasn’t that enough? She didn’t want to tell him anymore. She wanted to bolt from the room. His mind continued to touch hers. It supported her, however, encouraging her. “At dawn, the clouds had broken. A star—Gabrial, I think—was setting west of the Dar-Anar Mountains. It was cool but not cold. Springtime, maybe. This may occur in only a few sevendays.”

“And the troop counts? Who is attacking whom?” the Trine asked.

She shook her head. “That’s just it. I don’t know for certain. Both visions lasted only a heartbeat or two. I could only see the armies between flashes of lightning, and then, not clearly. In my first premonition, I thought I saw more Ken’nar. A lot more. Maybe as many as five thousand, but that’s just a guess. The Fal’kin armies we had in the Battle of the Vale were of similar size, and we’ve studied that attack in depth. I thought the larger force had black armor like the Ken’nar, but the vision was at night during a storm, so I couldn’t be sure.”

She lowered her eyes away from his probing gaze and picked at a hangnail. She winced when she jabbed the quick.

He covered her hand with his, stopping her. “It’s all right.”

She took her hand from his and rubbed her forehead. “In the second premonition, the one I had just a little while ago, I thought I sensed far fewer Ken’nar. Just a few hundred. I thought maybe I could be seeing a battle from the past and from the future, two different ones at the same location. The stars would be in different positions if that were the case, but with the storm, there was no way to get a timeframe. And I doubt two different battles would occur at the same location on the same date. So, if it is indeed the same battle, the skeins of time must be woven very loosely for such a drastic difference. Taken individually, though, they seem—” She paused as again a clear explanation eluded her. “Well, they seem certain. I’ve never had this happen before. Ever.”

“Let’s call to the Seeing Aspect and study at this together.” He took her hand once more, and this time, he placed it on his amulet.

“My lord, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” She tried to pull her hand back, but he held it firmly.

“Trust me.”

Her parents had drummed into her that it was an extreme offense to touch another’s amulet. It was a sacred relic, not a piece of jewelry. Since she was twelve, since she had learned her destiny, she avoided contact with another’s amulet at all costs. A Trine could join in union with any amulet, not just one, like those bearing a single Aspect. Would Lord Garis be able to detect she had all three Aspects? Maybe he’d be so focused on finding the right skein of time he wouldn’t notice. Maybe this was all a really, really bad idea.

“Lord Trine, maybe we should just speak with my—”

He continued to hold her hand. “Please.”

Mirana nodded slowly and closed her eyes as he reached out to her mind. His presence, heavy and unrelenting, pressed down upon hers. A tug pulled deep within her. It was not painful, just odd, like she slipped or faded further away from herself somehow. Her Seeing Aspect billowed inside her. Once again, flashes of lightning and amulet fire revealed armies locked in deadly combat on the stone bridges of Two Rivers Ford.

An aberrant vibration, a grating sort of discord, now quivered through her. Lord Garis’s amulet. It called to her, needed her, reached for her.

His amulet. It was—she was connecting with it!

She tried to pull away as images flared before her mind’s eye. The vision, almost identical to the first one she remembered, resolved with brutal clarity. Almost identical. Except now, it was obvious the thousands of fighters were not Ken’nar but were Fal’kin from Kin-Deren province, like in the vision she had in the stable.

The vibration from his amulet against her Aspects grew more insistent, begging her to match her harmonics with it. She fought against it, but his mind and his Aspects held her fast as he sought to understand the images playing before them.

Lightning slashed within the prescient pictures, and the scenes that held her captive changed yet again.

Jasal’s Keep erupts with hellfire.

Mirana yanked her hand from his grip. No. Oh, Aspects Above, no. Did he see it?

The Trine sat back in the chair and blinked as the corner of his mouth curled up. “You did well. Gratas Oë.”

She lowered her face from his to study a crack in one of the stone pavers on the floor. The keep appeared for only the briefest of moments before she broke their connection. Maybe he hadn’t seen it. If she concentrated on the crack, that would be the only thought he would read easily.

“I have to tell my parents,” she said. “I should have told them as soon as I saw the Ford the first time. It’s just I’ve never misinterpreted a vision before. Never.”

“Mirana, if what you’re telling me is true about your first version—the darkness, the rain, the lack of clarity—it would have been nearly impossible to discern which army is which without an amulet. Those thousands you saw? They could have been Fal’kin. In fact, what we just saw together all but corroborates that. You saw thousands from Kin-Deren fighting in the second version, correct?”

She scowled. “Ai, but—”

“And the smaller force, a scant five hundred? The garrison at the Ford typically doesn’t have much more than that. The Ken’nar may believe they have an easy target, so they don’t attack in large numbers.”

The first version of the attack on the Ford happened so quickly, and she had been in the midst of healing the youth, Maark. But the sense of it all? The bloodlust, the maniacal glee of meting out death, and a myriad of other things besides? That had to be the Ken’nar. Then again, her father never spoke of what he did as he fought. She had heard of Fal’kin going nearly mad on the battlefield, driven to extremes by the Defending Aspect. Is that what would happen to her someday?

She pounded her fist on the chair arm and groaned in frustration through clenched teeth. “How could I have been so wrong?”

“It is all but impossible without an amulet to get the precise information one needs from a vision. Even I would have had a hard time without an amulet. It came to you. You did not go to it. When you saw the vision of Two Rivers Ford again, you saw a further refinement, the Fal’kin defending the Ford installation in larger numbers. The same one I had. More than likely in both cases you were doing something else at the time and not prepared to analyze what you saw. Aspects know I was startled.”

She sought his eyes with her own. “You were?”

“Of course.” He held his amulet, studying it. “It was a frightening vision. Armies coming starkly into view in the lightning, only to disappear then re-emerge, closer and more violent. Visions are always frightening when—” he paused, “when death occurs.” He let his amulet fall to his chest. “I hated it when I was young. I still do.”

She sank back further into the chair and followed the crack on the floor with her eyes. “So, it doesn’t get any easier?”

He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs as he stared at the floor. Maybe even at the same crack she had been studying. He shook his head. “Seeing death. Feeling it, sensing it is coming. Knowing sometimes there’s nothing I can do to stop it. No, it doesn’t get any easier. It’s been that way ever since—”

“Ever since always.”

He raised his head and nodded.

Would he understand the agony of her dilemma? Could he find a way to save Kinderra when all she saw was death at her hands?

He rose from his chair and helped her up. “Come. Let us go see your mother. Perhaps she can shed some light on this for both of us.”

The Trine escorted her down the corridor. His hematite amulet winked in the soft light of the hallway’s rush lamps. It was dusky yet held a metallic brilliance all its own, a piece of the winter midnight sky.

When she and Lord Garis called upon the Seeing Aspect together, had it reached out to her? Or had she reached out to it? She looked up at the tall man. If he had sensed her manipulating his amulet right from his chest, he said nothing about it.

Joining in union with an amulet was supposed to be an experience of ecstasy, a marriage of the sacred and the worldly. What she had experienced with his amulet, however, was frankly a bit disturbing, even physically unsettling. That couldn’t be like what it was to choose an amulet, could it?

Maybe her avoidance of taking up an amulet reflected more than her just desire to deflect her destiny. Tetric Garis was the Light Trine.

And she was not.

Mirana came to an abrupt halt outside her parents’ room. “Do you believe in the prophecy?” The words rushed out before she had a chance to consider them.

He turned around and scowled. “What?”

“The Trine Prophecy. From the Book of Kinderra. It predicts a great cataclysm of some sort between through a Light Trine and a Dark Trine. Do you believe it?”

“Prophecies are written by seers to preserve their power long past their usefulness. They are meant to strike both awe and fear among Aspected and Unaspected alike. Each time a Trine comes into the world, that prophecy rears its head in the land. As a boy, I don’t think I was allowed out of my learning hall until I was nearly twelve.”

“Are you not the Light Trine, the Thrice-blessed? Is not the one leading the Ken’nar called the Dark Trine? Is he not the Thrice-cursed?” What did the prophecy then mean for her?

Lord Garis squared his shoulders. “I am the Trine of Kinderra. The Aspects Above created me for one purpose—to save Kinderra from the senseless bloodshed we’ve endured for millennia.” He smiled down at her. “Maybe with a little help, I can accomplish that.”

Her mouth hung open for a moment. The prophecy ended with the stanza, “Only Hope shall remain.” Could he be that hope? Her hope?

He placed his palm on the door and closed his eyes. Moments later, Mirana’s mother opened the door as she tightened her robe around her. “Prime Kellis Pinal, I apologize—”

She held up her hand. “I want Kaarl to sleep.” She stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind her. “You’ve seen something. Ai, I have, too.”

“We both have.”

Mirana looked up at Lord Garis. He nodded.

“Mother, I have seen a vision.”

CHAPTER 9

“Solis, Ëomus com siber, cin inimica rithente tré Ëome com gháinn’e i’gainem. Atuda, Ëomus defende as ain.”

(“Apart, we are like a sieve, with the enemy running through us like grains of sand. Together, we fight as one.”)

—Ora Fal’kinnen 125:56–57

––––––––

Kaarl awoke to sunlight streaming in through the window. He stretched and reached over to find the other side of the bed empty and cool. He frowned and sat up. Desde would be in her father’s study, working. He corrected himself. Toban’s study was now his wife’s.

Toban Kellis had been prime of Kin-Deren province for as long as Kaarl could remember. Toban had returned to the Aspects Above in Twelthmonth. Four months ago, the il’Kin had been tailing a detached unit of Ken’nar through the frozen borderlands between Varn-Erdal and Kana-Akün. He had no idea the man lay on his deathbed. He loved the old seer as much as he had his own father. He never got to tell either man goodbye.

He rose from the bed and splashed his face with cold water from a basin on the nightstand, washing away the last of his fatigue. Out of the lead-camed window, the sky was as blue as a sunlark’s egg. The hoarfrost sparkled like tiny amulets. Sixthmonth was only a few sevendays away and would usher in the summer season. The cold that had followed him home from the forests was an ill omen.

He shook his head. When did he start believing in omens? He was a defender. He believed in his Aspect, his amulet and sword, and little else.

Long ago, men and women more learned than he had pegged the beginning of a new Reckoning to the dead of winter. Those ancient seers perceived with their Aspect daylight growing longer by minute increments after the solstice to mark the beginning of Firstmonth. Had it been him, he would have started the new calendar when days were at their longest and warmest, and the land had fully awakened to give life again. When the light of his life had been born. The weather, however, followed its own wisdom. His smile faded. The heavy frost out the window looked uncannily like the thin, crusty patches of snow upon which il’Kin Defender Gannah Tesabe had died in the Kana-Akün forests.

The sun was high. It was late. He had not meant to sleep so long.

Kaarl dressed quickly and left his and Desde’s chambers. He paused by Mirana’s door. She was not in her room, either. He wanted to thank her once more. Or maybe to ask her to never again look for him when he was away from home.

He walked down the corridor to the primeship study and found the door ajar. He brushed Desde’s mind with his as he entered. She smiled at him, but her eyes were red-rimmed. He walked over and sat on the corner of the desk, taking her hand in his. He wished he, too, could mourn. The Ken’nar had killed off that capacity in him long ago.

“The ice has lingered even though it’s Fourthmonth. Do your seers know when the weather will break?” he asked.

“Soon. Then again, it is easier to march on frozen ground than mud.” She sighed. “There’s still so much of him here.”

He nodded and picked up from the desk a small, green jadelite carving of a mountain tiger. Toban had gotten it after some conflict in the distant mountainous province of Trak-Calan. It was a seal stamp, and very old, but because of the stone’s fragility, it now served as a piece of art.

“He is with your mother once more.” His wife nodded and quickly wiped her eyes. He sat in one of the chairs fronting Toban’s—Desde’s desk. “You should have awakened me.”

“You needed your rest.” She reached for his hand again.

“That is especially true given your welcome home.” He caressed her fingers with his thumb. They both smiled. He continued to hold her hand. “You left last night.”

“Ai, however, it was more than just you that kept me awake.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I was concerned about Mirana. Have you seen her, by the way? She wasn’t in her room.”

“She’s not a layabout like her father.” Desde lifted one corner of her mouth. “She’s studying with the other seers this morning. I’ve given her a noontime break before our lessons this afternoon. Unless she’s decided to skip her meal again, in which case she’s probably someplace with young Herbsman Beltran.”

“Teague?”

“Oh, Kaarl. Surely, you can see what’s going on? It’s been summers.”

“Ai, I know, but—” He looked out the door, imagining with difficulty the young woman who had replaced his little girl. “They’re in love?” She raised her hands in a helpless gesture. “They’ve always been close, but this? And you approve? Teague’s Unaspected.”

She sat up straighter. “Teague is a wonderful boy. It makes no difference if he’s Unaspected or not.”

He shook his head. “Of course. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just relationships like that are, well, complicated to say the least. You know I care for the boy. Deeply. He reminds me a bit of myself when I was his age.”

As a young boy, he had suffered through many scuffles of his own with who thought less of who he was, too. He would swear a curse on Jasal Pinal if he thought it would add to his ancestor’s damnation.

“Aspects Above.” He exhaled, suddenly weary again despite his slumber. “Have I been gone that long?”

“I see her every day, and I cannot believe she’s ready to lose her heart.”

“How serious are they?”

“The war will end it for them before they will, I fear.” Desde sat back in the high-backed oak chair as her elegant, tapered fingers curled around the armrests. She looked remarkably like Toban at that moment.

By the Light, his little girl had grown up, and he had missed so much of it. She was nearly sixteen. She would choose an amulet in two summers. Two summers! In two summers, other mysteries would have to be explained, if not before.

Later. He would deal with all of these issues later.

“So, who have you chosen as your Prime’s Second?”

His wife shook her head. “No one yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your father died four months ago. Succession should not be left open like this, especially given what’s happened in the north.”

“Ëo comprende,” she replied. “And I need your advice.”

He had hoped he would have missed all the cutthroat maneuvering and backroom deals that always accompanied the selection of who would be next in line for the primeship. At least when Desde did select someone, all the political wrangling and gilded backstabbing would be well out of the way to ensure there were no gaps in a province’s leadership. That was the point. When a prime died or was incapacitated, the elevation from second to prime was immediate.

He stroked his beard for a moment. “Dav Koehl is the obvious choice.”

“Ai,” she replied, nodding, “but I need him focused on the war as my Defender Commander, not splitting his time in council meetings.”

“What about Tennen Beltran?”

She tapped one of her fingers on the armrest and grew thoughtful. “That’s an interesting choice.”

“The man’s a healer, so you have your compassionate viewpoint for the greater good. He also has defender’s blood in him. I swear, he doesn’t so much cure injury and illness but attack them with the Healing Aspect.”

Desde folded her hands and bounced them against her chin, thinking. “I hadn’t thought about that. He worked tirelessly to cure my father and gave him a peaceful death when he couldn’t. And you know how insightful he is. He’s also well respected by the Fal’kin.” She inhaled and made a guilty grimace. “But he’s not exactly charismatic. Which, unfortunately, must be near the top of a provincial leader’s list of skills. I’ll have to think about that one.”

“Well, who do you want?” Kaarl asked.

She smiled and took his hand again. “The two people I want to offer my council as choices are the two people which they’d least likely approve.”

He squeezed her hand and released it. “She’s too young.”

Her smile faded but did not disappear. “Your illustrious ancestor Jasal was sixteen when most of the province wished to elevate him to prime.”

He shrugged in agreement. “He was not installed as prime until he was twenty-three. Because he was too young.” He held out his hands, rendering her choice moot.

“And, unfortunately, you’ll be otherwise occupied. I’m afraid my choice in second will have to wait a bit longer.” She straightened in her chair. “I’m glad you came. There has been a development overnight.”

If his wife’s sudden change in demeanor hadn’t raised a warning, the whisper his Defending Aspect gave him would have. “What is it?”

“I had a vision. Tetric and Mirana saw it, too.”

“Two Rivers Ford will be attacked,” came a deep voice behind him.

He turned to look over his shoulder.

Tetric Garis strode into Desde’s study. “Seer Prime Kellis Pinal,” he said as he inclined his head in a bow.

She waved him off. “Tetric, you’ve known me for thirty summers. It is hard enough to hear that title from others, even more so from you.”

Kaarl turned back to face his wife, more than a little irritated that his wife and the Trine were wasting time on pleasantries. “What? Why didn’t you wake me? The Ford will be attacked?”

“You have been fighting since before the Reckoning turned, Ëi ama. I wanted to give you at least one night’s rest. Besides, there is little you can do at the moment,” she replied. “We saw what we think are several hundred Ken’nar make a play for our garrison at Two Rivers Ford. We saw a second, much larger force, presumably our own, engage them. We believe we will be successful in turning them back but it appears many will still be killed. We are working to understand the plan of attack and divine a precise time frame.”

Tetric nodded and sat in the chair next to Kaarl. “The vision was difficult to interpret for many reasons. There are still many questions to be answered.”

Kaarl gripped the chair’s armrests. “Those bridges are the gateway into southern Kinderra. If the Dark Trine controls the Ford—”

“The Ken’nar will march across the rest of the continent, ai,” the other man finished. “But, as Desde said, the attacking force does not appear to be large. Kin-Deren has more than enough Fal’kin to stop them. Your daughter had the same vision as we did.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, the more seers that receive the same vision, the greater the likelihood the event will actually occur,” the Trine replied, his words clipped with annoyance. “This one, however, still remains a bit unclear. Young Mirana was quite disconcerted by it when she told me.”

Desde leaned forward. “One moment, Tetric. Are you telling me my daughter came to you first with this? Before you both came to me?”

He waved a hand to dismiss her concern. “Do not be upset with her. Apparently, she had been awakened by this vision, as you and I had been. I heard her in the hall. She was obviously distraught, so I comforted her, and together we walked through the vision. Then we came to see you.”

She tugged at her bottom lip, then slapped her hands down flat on the desk. “Damn that girl. What is wrong with her? She should have come to me immediately.”

“My prime, it was only a matter of moments between the time she came to me and when we both spoke with you,” he said.

She gripped the armrests tighter. “You do not understand. She has been most disobedient of late. Criminally so.”

The Trine pursed his lips. “You are more afraid than angry.”

“Forgive me for troubling you with Kin-Deren’s—and a mother’s—concerns,” she replied.

Kaarl regarded the tall man. “I would think you would be the last person she’d want to speak with. She hardly knows you.”

Tetric held his gaze. “Sometimes a stranger is the best person with whom to speak.”

Is that so? The memory of their conversation after the grynwen attack came back to him. The man had no interest in comforting their daughter. No, he wanted to pry into her mind. “What do you mean by that? We love our daughter.”

“Exactly. How much did you tell your father—or Toban, for that matter—when things troubled you?” he replied. “I don’t believe, however, I was first on her list either. I think her little midnight escapade might have involved a certain herbsboy. She was coming in from the outside.”

Kaarl sat up sharply. “Escapade?” He turned to his wife. “Just exactly how close are Mirana and Teague?” He remembered more than a few midnight escapades of his own. With Desde. She frowned and shook her head, quelling the notions that had flown up in his mind.

“The real concern here is the Ford, not your daughter’s adolescent transgressions,” the Trine continued as annoyance crept back into his voice.

“I appreciate your kindness to our daughter, but the next time Mirana is distraught from a vision, we will be the ones to comfort her. We will discuss with her what she may or may not have seen,” he replied, not disguising his own irritation.

The Dar-Azûlan stroked his beard with his long fingers. “I don’t think you can comfort her regarding some of the things she sees. They are enough to terrify a Trine.”

Kaarl straightened in his chair. “What are you—”

“Gentlemen, please. I will deal with Mirana later,” Desde said. “Tetric is right. We have other priorities at the moment.”

He sat back. His wife was correct. “You said there would be several hundred Ken’nar. Do you have a better estimate?”

“Perhaps five hundred,” she said.

For the first time in a long, long time, hope warmed him. “Kin-Deren province has nearly two thousand Fal’kin. If the dark bastard thinks he can have our Ford, he’s about to be proven wrong.”

She nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

“We il’Kin are few now, but we will serve at your word. How soon are we talking?” he asked.

“That is the one great concern. Timing will be an issue,” she replied. “We’re trying to narrow it down, but we think it will be in a few sevendays.”

“Within the month,” Tetric replied.

“That soon?” A sudden thought occurred to him. He glanced at his wife with a confident sneer. “That might be a boon.”

The tall Trine shifted in his seat. “How so?”

“The contingent from Varn-Erdal province is due at the garrison for their tour of duty about that time. We met up with some Varn-Erdalans late last autumn as we patrolled the border. They said Defender Prime Vallia Edaran has been so—what was the word that the defender used?—so ‘displeased’ with the incessant attacks in Varn-Erdal by the Ken’nar in the last few summers, she wished to inspect the readiness of the Two Rivers Ford garrison herself. She’s even sending her daughter Defender Second Liaonne Edaran to be stationed there.”

Desde grinned, her mahogany eyes as hard as burl wood. “With Vallia and Liaonne both at the Ford, I almost feel sorry for the Ken’nar.”

Kaarl chuckled evilly. “Almost.”

Tetric settled deeper into his chair and folded his hands. “I seldom have come across defenders more vicious than you, Kaarl.”

“I am not vicious. I am thorough,” he said, “Vallia. Liaonne. They are vicious.”

“Vallia’s displeasure is not unfounded,” the Trine said. “Varn-Erdal has suffered more than any other province of late save Kana-Akün. Now that not one, but two provinces stand broken, means it is time to change how we look at this war. That is also why I am here.” He turned to Kaarl. “We need to unite our forces. It is time.”

“That is not your decision to make,” Desde said. “It is the decision of the Steward of the Quorum of Light.” She gestured to Kaarl with her chin.

“What?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Surely your father would have made you steward upon his death?”

“No, thankfully, he did not. Being a prime is burden enough to bear.” She pushed a piece of parchment toward him. “He named you steward in the interim until the Quorum of Light convenes in the autumn. With you half a continent away and on the move for most of the Reckoning, I had no way to reach you with the news until now.”

“Toban can’t do that,” Tetric said. “Kaarl’s not even a prime.”

He nodded. “I agree with you for once, Ëi cara.”

She tapped the document. “Ai, it flies in the face of a thousand summers of Kinderran tradition, but there is nothing in either the Book of Kinderra or the Ora Fal’kinnen that bars it. My father knew our laws better than those who wrote them.”

“My place is on the back of a horse—an amulet in one hand, a sword in the other. Not hiding behind walls sitting on a stone chair in the Quorum chambers.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you think the Quorum steward does? Is that what you think I do?”

He exhaled, frustrated. “No, of course not. But I am a defender. My life exists to be in defense of Kinderra.”

“And could still be,” the Trine said. “Perhaps Toban’s move isn’t so ridiculous after all.”

He scowled. “What do you mean?”

Tetric leaned toward him. “I want you and your il’Kin to fight with me. Only the steward can order when and where the il’Kin fight. With you as steward, there is one less impediment to their deployment.”

Shock and anger fought for control of Kaarl’s emotions. “I wouldn’t be fighting with you. I would be fighting for you. I take orders from no one.”

“You took orders from Toban,” the Dar-Azûlan said evenly, “and, you took orders as a provincial Fal’kin once.”

The naked ambition of Tetric’s request was beyond belief. Kaarl rose from his seat. “You’ve spent summers trying to extinguish the il’Kin, believing it is a waste of effort when Kinderra has your Dar-Azûlan provincial troops as a strike force. Now, you are trying to do the next best thing by controlling it outright.”

The tall man stood. “It is a waste of effort. My province, if you can call it that, has nothing for my men and women to protect. Barren steppe. Nomads who herd stinking deer. I willingly commit my troops to safeguard all of Kinderra’s provinces. I am a Trine, and such is my duty. The il’Kin are bound to no specific province for much the same reason. We both exist to support provincial troops. We have exactly the same mission. The only reason the il’Kin exists at all is that, for most of Kinderra’s history, no Trine lived to intercede for her on a continental basis. It makes no sense to have two units with the same goal—one answering to me and one answering to you.”

Kaarl remained standing. “I see no problem with that. Neither did Toban. Neither did the Quorum itself. For summers. Kinderra is large, and neither of us can be everywhere at once. There are more than enough black-armored bastards for both of us to fight.”

As he expected, the other man did not back down. “There is no greater sword and amulet in the land than yours. I would put you at the head of the entire combined force. You could do with them as you will. Have units embedded in every province, ready for your orders at a moment’s notice.”

“You don’t think I’ve already petitioned for that?”

“You would be greater to me than my second.”

“I am no one’s second,” he growled between locked teeth.

“Two Rivers Ford is about to be attacked. Despite the small force, the fighting will be brutal, from what I’ve seen. The Fal’kin will suffer losses. Ask your wife.” The Trine gestured toward the door and the hall beyond, “Aspects Above, man, ask your daughter!”

He took a step toward the other man. He was well aware his silver gaze could be unsettling to others, even more so when he was furious. As he hoped it was now. “I will find a way.”

Again, the tall Trine did not acquiesce. “You lost half of your forces within two seasons. How do you plan to protect the garrison there with the paltry nineteen of you?”

“Gentlemen!” Desde warned. “Tetric, obviously Kaarl’s being facetious.”

Kaarl ignored his wife and leaned in close. “You stood by and watched them be slaughtered,” he said, bitter memories dropping his voice into a low snarl.

The other man moved closer still, standing toe to toe. “How many times must I tell you? I had to attack when the moment was right. The loss of your tens would have been hundreds. Sacrifices had to be made.”

He squeezed his hands into fists. “Those sacrifices were not yours to make.”

“I said, that is enough!” Desde jumped to her feet. “Sit down. Both of you. Now. That was two summers ago, Kaarl. It is over. Nothing can change the outcome now. Leten pone morte cin morte.”

Let the dead lie with the dead. Would she feel that way if it had been her men and women who had been cut down? He glared at Tetric a moment, then sank into his chair as the taller man took his seat. His wife was right again. They were dead, and nothing could bring them back.

“Lord Trine, you hold my awe with your Aspects,” she said, “but what you are suggesting is no less than cutting out the heart of the steward’s responsibility. How could Kaarl possibly serve you and the Quorum at the same time in a position like that?”

Tetric steepled his fingers and stared at him. “The only reason your husband would even consider honoring your father’s directive is he would still be in command of the il’Kin, is that not so?”

Kaarl’s hands remained in fists. He said nothing. The answer was obvious.

“Ëi cara, I am not trying to take away your power.” The Trine held out his hand, expecting him to take it. “I am giving you a way to accept the role and still hold your birthright.”

“I cannot make a decision like this now. To join our forces and accept your offer would essentially dissolve the steward’s position. That will be for the Quorum to decide. Not I. Furthermore, we have a battle to plan for.”

“There is no time to wait,” the Trine pressed. “The Quorum members will decide whatever you decide. Do you want to be a protector or a politician?”

Anger began to tug at Kaarl’s Defending Aspect. His amulet warmed the skin of his chest. “We have disagreed on many things, Tetric, but I have never called into question your dedication to your duty.”

“Kaarl, please,” his wife said, holding up her hand to stop any more of his replies. She turned to Tetric. “My husband is right. Your proposal affects the whole of Kinderra. War is on our doorstep, and I am never one to believe any victory is easy. I need your help, both of you, to stop Ken’nar at the Ford.”

The Trine rose again from his chair and moved around it to place his hands on its back. “I hope you will reconsider my offer. Is not our ultimate goal to end this war? Combining our forces will go a long way to achieving the peace I thought we both want so desperately.” He left, the door swung shut, closed by an unseen hand.

Kaarl could not shake the unmistakable feeling of dread coiled like a viper in the pit of his stomach. He had learned to distinguish between his Defending Aspect and common intuition well before he chose his amulet. This time, he felt both.

“What do you intend to do?” Desde asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I’m not a seer.” He rose and picked up the jadelite carving. “If become steward, I won’t even be a defender anymore.”

He crushed the stamp with his hand and his Aspect, leaving the pieces on the desk.

CHAPTER 10

“What an enigma the Aspects are. They reveal all but say nothing.”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

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“I’ve taught you better than this. Or at least I thought I had. Perhaps this is as much my mistake as yours.”

“No, Mother,” Mirana said. “This has nothing to do with you. You’re right. I should have come to you immediately and told you about the grynwen attack. I was terrified I might have distracted Father at precisely the wrong moment when I called to warn him.” She glanced at her father. “When you didn’t call later, I didn’t know what to think. I was frightened, so I didn’t say anything.”

Her mother’s hands were folded in front of her, a false semblance of calm. Her knuckles were clenched white. Her father leaned back against her mother’s desk, his mind closed as tightly as his folded arms.

Her father shook his head slowly. “You’ve studied enough military tactics with your mother as a seer. Tell me why you think I did not return your call?”

She lowered her eyes to avoid the accusation and the disappointment in her father’s silver gaze. She focused instead on the shards of jadelite scattered on her mother’s desk. Brepaithe Toban’s tiger stamp. It was broken. She used to play with it. She loved that stamp. She picked up a jadelite fragment.

“You had to remain under U’Nehíl so the Ken’nar in Falantir would not sense your location.”

She could stare at the stone shards all she wanted to avoid her father’s gaze, but her mother’s mind was not to be ignored.

“Were you planning not to tell me about Two Rivers Ford, either?”

Mirana snapped her head up and closed her hand around the shard. “No. I swear it. I was confused. I needed some time to figure it out. I first thought our troops at the Ford were the Ken’nar.” Her shoulders slumped. “I made a mistake in interpretation. It’s not often I don’t understand what it is I am perceiving. I guess I was frightened about this, too.”

“And Teague helped you get over your fears. Would that have been before or after you went to see Tetric Garis?” her mother said. Mirana bit her lip. “I am your prime, not Lord Garis. You should have come to me first with any inkling of any vision. Mirana il’Kellis il’Pinal, what is the matter with you?”

She closed her eyes and exhaled. It did nothing to rid her of her guilt. “I am so sorry.”

Her mother sighed in bitter frustration as she sat back in her primeship’s chair. “You are no longer a little girl, and I am no longer just your mother. I am the prime of Kin-Deren province now. Not speaking to me about the grynwen attack, and now your delay in coming to me about Two Rivers Ford? These are not things I can simply forget or pass off as childish foolishness. Your interpretation skills are worthy of a seer far beyond your summers. Consequently, when you are done with your lessons each day, you will now remain with me and my senior seers. If you have any more unbidden prescience, you need not be frightened because you will be surrounded by seers who can help you.”

No. Oh, Aspects Above. What if the keep vision appeared to her while her mother and the other seers were in her mind?

Her father reached over and squeezed Mirana’s shoulder. “Desde, she was frightened she distracted me at the wrong moment when she called the warning. With Two Rivers Ford, you said yourself the vision was difficult to interpret. She did come to you only moments after speaking with Tetric. I think she knows now to never do this again.”

“If she has been seeing more than her share of unbidden visions and can call to you across hundreds of leagues but also find you while you were hidden under U’Nehíl, she will need close supervision.” Her mother spat out her words like bitter medicine.

She was angry, certainly, but she was also scared. Mirana scowled. Why was she frightened? What was going on here?

Her mother’s expression softened. Finally.

“I am not doing this to be cruel, Lightness, but you need to remember why it is so vitally important we know any scrap of information. It can save lives.” She now sent a caring notion to Mirana’s mind. “You may go.”

She nodded and walked to the door. Fear had kept her from doing her duty and coming to her mother—no, her prime—as was required by law. Fear of no longer trusting her instincts. Fear of no longer trusting herself. Fear this misstep would lead to another and another until she believed evil choices weren’t evil anymore.

Her hand lingered on the door handle. Could she tell them? Tell them what she was? Tell them the awesome and atrocious things her destiny held for her? Would they believe her?

She turned around. “I really am sorry. For everything. Father, the grynwen weren’t hunting you like a herd of deer. They were sent. I had to warn you. I had to. I also know the kind of call I made—” She swallowed. “The call I made is beyond what most Fal’kin can do. That frightened me as well. The thought I might have killed you in the end and not saved you, that is what terrified me.” She crossed her arms tightly, holding herself. “With Two Rivers Ford, Mother, I could have given you incorrect information. If I came to you with bad information, it would have been worse. I didn’t want to cause more people to die.” She tried to keep the sob in her throat from escaping, but it slipped through her clenched teeth anyway. “I don’t want people to die because of me.”

Kaarl crossed over to her and held her face in his hands. “Gannah Tesabe did not die because of you.”

Her mother rose and stroked Mirana’s hair. “You must never be afraid of what you see, ai, even if the visions are terrifying.”

The keep tower and its deadly light flared in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered, her folded arms unable to suppress the trembling.

“Miri, what is it?” Desde asked.

“You always told me you gave up being a battle seer to raise me. It was more than that, though, wasn’t it?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear her own words. “It was all the death, too. The guilt of taking so many lives over the summers. It had left you empty inside. That’s why you thought you could never have a child, isn’t it? You thought the Aspects Above were punishing you?”

Her mother blinked, her hand now still. “What?”

Mirana inhaled. Would they understand? They had to. This burden was killing her, heartbeat by heartbeat. “Father, you fight evil every day until you know of nothing else. The bloodlust on the battlefield. It nearly overwhelms you sometimes, doesn’t it? Sometimes your Defending Aspect controls you more than you control it.”

She stepped out of her parents’ embrace. “I know these things about you both. I’ve seen it, heard it from you, in bits and pieces of thoughts you don’t even want to admit to yourselves. We all have horrors like that inside. All of us.”

Her mother’s eyes held concern, ai, but it was her fear that shot like an arrow through Mirana’s heart. “What are you saying, Lightness?”

“Please don’t call me that anymore.” Her words tried to fight their way out just as strongly as she was trying to hold them back. “We call the one who leads the Ken’nar the Dark Trine. Was he born evil? Did he suddenly wake up one morning and decide to turn his back on the Fal’kin and forsake the Light from Within for the Ken’nar and the Power from Without? What choices did he make in his life that led him down the path to become evil? You both are the noblest Fal’kin I know. If you can’t fight the darkness in your hearts, how can I?”

“Mirana,” her father said, “you made some mistakes and, ai, they were serious ones, but you are not evil. They were just mistakes.”

Her mother looked once more at her father, then nudged Mirana’s mind. “The Aspects Above gave us our gifts and we are compelled to use them, but they also gave us a conscience. They gave us free will.” She reached out to cup her cheek. “You are not evil. You could never be evil, biraena. Ever.”

She pulled her face away from her mother’s hand and stepped back farther. “How do you know?”

“I carried you beneath my heart for almost eight months. The Aspects Above wanted you so badly for Kinderra, they called you to be born that much sooner. Your gifts were once my gifts. I know you. I know you are not evil.” Her mother tried to smile, but her worried brow defeated the expression.

Mirana slowly opened her hand to see the piece of the broken jadelite tiger still in her palm. “Do you think the Dark Trine’s mother said the same things to him when he was young?”

Her mother reached for her father’s hand. ... Mirana ... You know we love you ... Is there something else you haven’t told us? ... Have you done something? ...

“No.” She shook her head quickly. “Why would anyone want to become the Dark Trine, the one to destroy Kinderra? I can’t even imagine what his mother and father have gone through, seeing what he’s become. If they’re still alive. Maybe it’s better if they weren’t.”

Her father held his hand out toward her. When she did not reach for it, pain shot behind his eyes, then disappeared behind the walls of his mind. “Power—seeking it above all else—turns good men into evil men. I’ve made my share of serious mistakes, but I like to believe that maybe I’ve done a little good, too. I took up an amulet summers too early so I could kill the Ken’nar who killed my parents. But I later learned it was far more satisfying to save the lives of my comrades and the Unaspected we are sworn to protect than it was to take the lives of the Ken’nar. I also want you to know this: whatever sins I have committed, I committed them to keep you safe.”

Mirana placed the jadelite shard back on her mother’s desk. ... Please know I would do the same ...

CHAPTER 11

“A bhéth en aonta cin anelies ísi a bhéth en aonta cin Kin e U'Kin i’anelies aspecaem. Acceptem ísi tuda o nehíl.”

(“To join in union with another is to join in union with another soul’s Light and Dark. Acceptance is total or not at all.”)

—Ora Fal’kinnen 130:45–46

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Teague ran up the last of the four hundred and thirty-eight stairs leading to the parapet at the summit of Jasal’s Keep. His heart beat faster than even the exertion could make it.

He used to love this place. He and Mirana would steal away when their lessons and chores were done for the day—and sometimes before—to sneak up the tower and look out from its heights. He hadn’t been up here in four summers. Not since Mirana had that terrifying vision the night he had broken his arm.

When he and Mirana were younger, they would race each other up the stairs to leap up and tag the divot gouged out of the door’s lintel stone. He was taller, his legs were longer. She was Aspected and therefore faster. When they were younger, they were an even match. Now, they were no longer children. He was a man. He gritted his teeth, frowning, as he held onto the parapet door to catch his breath. Well, he was trying to be a man.

“I looked everywhere for you.” He gulped a lungful of cold air as he walked over to Mirana.

She didn’t turn to him but remained facing the landscape. “How did you find me?”

He wasn’t all that surprised she hadn’t been startled at his arrival. She probably heard him coming since the first stair. She might have even sensed his presence from the moment he left the healing hostel. Aspects Above knew his thoughts were a loud, messy jumble at the moment. It was a wonder someone hadn’t stopped him already.

He leaned on the capstone railing, smiling. Hills rolled away to the south, the dun-colored stubble of cornstalks and wheat chaff emerging from the thick frost as the afternoon sun warmed the land. Soon those hills would flush green with the first of the season’s crops.

“The padlock on the door was open. I don’t know why they even use one. It’s not like it will keep any of you out.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Her face held no emotion, and her voice was just as flat. Something was wrong. Mirana usually ran into his arms if no one was around.

“Neither should you.”

“If your parents catch you here, you’ll be in trouble.”

“So will you.”

“I’ve been granted a momentary reprieve from my sentence to eat. My mother and her seers are now to watch me like bloodhawks on a field mouse. After the grynwen and everything else, I don’t blame her.” She turned to him at last. “You really shouldn’t be seen with me. Your mother and your father made it perfectly clear they didn’t want you near me.”

Maybe that was why she was troubled. She had gotten the same bloody talking-to he had. “No,” Teague said as one side of his mouth arched upward into a scoundrel’s grin, “they didn’t want you near me. They never told me I couldn’t be near you.” She rolled her eyes in disgust. He nudged her with his elbow. “C’mon. That was supposed to make you laugh.”

At last, she gave him a sliver of a smile. “I think your distance was implied.”

That was better, but he wanted her happy. He had a lot of talking to do. “I’ve been granted a bit of a stay of sentence myself. I’m on my way to fetch some tallow from the kitchens for poultices.”

A light breeze ruffled the waves of his hair. She reached up to smooth them back. That was much, much better. He loved it when she played with his hair. “Your mother and the other seers had a vision before dawn of a battle at Two Rivers Ford. They told my parents and the rest of the hall this morning. That’s what you saw, isn’t it? In the healing hostel yesterday, and last night? That’s what you were upset about.”

She nodded. “I told my mother what I saw, but I ran into Lord Garis first.” She gave a small laugh. “Literally.”

He leaned back from her in surprise. “And you told him?”

She frowned. “I didn’t have much of a choice, but, ai, I told him what I saw.”

He reached for her hand, her fingers were cold against his palm. “Everything?”

“Of the Ford, ai.” She pulled her hand away and brushed the remaining frost from the stone. She then slammed her fist on the stone.

He started at her gesture. This wasn’t like Mirana. This wasn’t like Mirana at all. “What’s going on? What else aren’t you telling me?”

“Teague, I completely misinterpreted what is to happen at Two Rivers Ford.” She lightly pounded the stone with both fists now. “That’s never happened to me before.” She leaned over the parapet wall and looked down. “Is this the start of it all? Is this where I begin to lose my ability to do good?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

He followed her gaze but couldn’t see anything interesting other than it was a long way down. A long way. A water bucket by the courtyard’s well looked like a thimble. He turned back to her and noticed the pallor of her face. Dark circles under her eyes marred the diamond-bright beauty he so wanted to see right now.

He reached for her, but she leaned away from him. She had never before refused his embrace. The fluttering chill that suddenly decided to make a nest in his stomach had nothing to do with the cold air. Did she already know what he wanted to ask her? Had she already thought of an answer?

“What if I misunderstand something else, something important? Something where people could die?” She bit her lip. Oh, no. She only did that when she was upset. “Maybe you really should leave.”

Surely, she knew how he felt about her. He would say it to her once again, so she could hear it with her ears as real words, not magically mediated perceptions. “I don’t care what you see or don’t see. I don’t care what you think your destiny holds for you. I’m not going to stop being with you. Ever.”

The wind blew a silken ebony lock of hair across her face. When she made no move to brush it away, he did. Her expression, though, remained strained, even frightened. That frightened him. “Miri?”

She let her breath out and watched it for a moment as it rose toward the keep’s crowning pinnacle. “Why were you looking for me anyway?”

Oh, this was so not going the way he had planned, and certainly not the way he had hoped. If only he could get her to smile again. “You were pretty upset last night. I wanted to see how you were doing. And,” he leaned in closed, grinning, his body touching hers, “we were interrupted.” Mirana blushed, chasing away a bit of the paleness. Hope shall remain, the good book said. “I wanted to find you to give you something.” He dug into his belt pouch. “I made it for your birthday. I know it’s still a few sevendays away.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. After everything, I thought now might be an even better time.”

He placed a small pendant in her hand. Three tiny flowers, their yellow petals deepening to red in the center, were pressed between two thumbnail-sized plates of colorless mica. A crudely crafted thin frame of gold sealed the edges.

Mirana opened her mouth and, for a moment, he couldn’t tell if she was happy or horrified. “Teague, I—Gratas Oë.”

He had known his entire life he wanted to spend each of Mirana’s birthdays with her—and every other day in between.

“I made it myself. It’s not very good. I know the gold leaf is uneven, but I hoped you’d like it anyway. It took me sevendays. I kept breaking the mica. I hoped to find a gold chain or at least a silk cord to string it on, but maybe this will do.” He unlaced the leather cord from his tunic. He took the pendant from her and threaded the cord through, then placed it around her neck.

She touched it as it lay over her heart. “This the most precious gift I’ve ever received.”

The chill that sat in his stomach now flew up into his throat, thudding along with his heartbeat. “It’s no amulet, I know. Or a gold band.” He placed his hand over hers, feeling her heartbeat against his fingertips. He searched those silver eyes, the ones he knew so well. He wanted to lose himself in them forever. In truth, he already had.

“A gold band? You want to join in union? For forever? With me?”

He laughed. “You say it like I’m the one who’s settling for something less. I’m the one who’s Unaspected.”

“That’s never mattered to me. You know that. But I’m a Pinal.” She traced the outlines of the pendant with a finger. “And a liar.”

“And now, according to your mother, apparently a felon.” He and Mirana both laughed. He pulled her close and rested his forehead against hers. “I know we’re still too young, but it’s my pledge to you for the future. Our future.”

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. More than anything.” She rose on her toes and met her lips with his.

He made her happy, and that made him happy. No, it made him ecstatic. Mirana once told him that she could feel what he felt when they kissed—emotional and otherwise. He slid his hands up to hold her face and drank in her kiss, parting her lips with his. He didn’t want this moment to end, but all too soon it would. That was the whole reason why he wanted to see her now. He might not get another chance. That fluttering bird of cold plummeted back down his throat, past his belly, and into his limbs.

She pulled back from him slightly. “What’s wrong?”

He parted from her and turned to stare at the railing to avoid her gaze. It didn’t work. From the corner of his eye, he saw her staring at him. Who knew those starlight eyes of hers could rest so heavily on him? “I just wanted to let you know all of this before I left.”

She scowled. “Where are you going?”

He took a breath before answering. This was the other thing he needed to do to be a man. Whether he’d live long enough to become one was another matter entirely. “I am going with my parents to the Ford.”

“What?” She grabbed his arm.

“They expect a victory, but there will still be wounded. Gemma and a few of the others will remain here at the healing hostel. Most of the herbsfolk, however, are headed to the Ford.”

Mirana shook her head. “You can’t go. You could be killed.”

It was one thing if he thought it, quite another if she did. Mirana had the annoying tendency to always be right. “Gratas. Thanks for the encouragement, unskilled Unaspected wretch that I am.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” She held his other arm now, too. “You can’t go. It’s too dangerous.”

He pulled himself away from her. “What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t think I can survive because I don’t have the Aspects?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I didn’t mean that at all. Teague—”

“This is what I’m supposed to be doing as an herbsman. Someday, anyway.”

Her eyes remained wide in shock. “I can’t believe your parents are making you do this.”

He started to say something but gave up in frustration and now looked out on the thawing fields himself. She had asked him last night to take her away, begged him. He wanted nothing more than to build her a little cottage someplace, maybe on the bluffs of Parsalon overlooking the sea, where they could care for the countryfolk together. He would never be able to have her as his wife, to make a life for her, if he didn’t learn how to take responsibility for his own life first.

He couldn’t fight demons he couldn’t see like Mirana could, he wasn’t Aspected. He could only fight the ones he could see and, only then, if he knew what they were. She was a Trine, and someday when the Ken’nar found out about her, he would need something more than a poultice to protect her.

“They aren’t making me. I volunteered to go,” he said finally. “I demanded it, actually.”

She leaned forward into his view. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“It makes sense if you think about it. If I am skilled enough to train someone else, it’s high time I put my knowledge into practice. If I stop acting like a child, my parents will stop treating me like one. They’re going to have to start respecting my choices.”

He scooped up some of the remaining frost and compacted it between his palms into a tiny snowball. He threw it down toward the stone pavers below in the courtyard. She thrust out her hand. The snowball hung suspended in mid-air. He glared at her. She released it, letting it fall to the pavers below where it spattered into icy dust.

“By choices, you mean me,” she said. “Oh, Light Above, I would never want to come between you and your family. You have nothing to prove to me or anyone else by going to Two Rivers Ford. Teague, don’t do this. Least of all for me.”

“It’s not just for you.” He laughed sadly. “Well, ai, it is, mostly, but I’m doing this for me, too. I want to be strong for you.”

She gripped his arms again, tighter this time. “You are strong for me.”

“No, I’m not. Or I guess I don’t know if I am or not.” He raised his hands to hold her. “The only way you truly know a sword’s mettle is to test it in combat.”

“You are not a sword!” Her breath ascended into the cold air with the force of her words.

He gave her a strained smile. “Not yet.” Her face remained pulled taut in disbelief. “You’re not laughing at any of my jokes today.”

“This is not funny. This is the least funny thing there could be.” Her shoulders fell. “I don’t need you to be a weapon for me. I don’t need your protection. All I need is you.” She drew a ragged breath.

Oh, Lights! Was she going to cry? Had he made her cry? “Maybe not today, but someday you’re going to need help. Even a Trine is just one person.”

Mirana held his pendant. “You shouldn’t be going to the Ford. I should be the one going. Maybe it’s best if we’re apart from each other for a while. My life has become such a nightmare. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Her hand dropped to her side.

Teague’s heart fell along with it. “We shouldn’t be gone that long, but that’s not the point.” He reached for her again. “You can’t hurt me.”

“I would never want to. Ever.” She refused to let him pull her back into his embrace and turned from him. “Why can’t I just disappear like your snowball?”

Rank dread now replaced the fluttering chill. It was hot, sitting there in his belly, and far worse. “What are you talking about?”

She was silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on the southern horizon. “Have you ever been to the ocean?”

He scowled as concern fought for his attention with his confusion. “What? Ai, a few times with my parents. We’d sail occasionally when they went on their sabbaticals to Tash-Hamar. The only way their provinces allowed them to join in union was if my mother came home to heal the sick there once in a while. But I don’t see—”

“It’s wide. Oblivious,” she replied, not listening to him. “It doesn’t know who I am or what I do, or even care.”

He reached for her, but she stepped back from him and hugged herself. “Miri, you’re not making any sense.”

“Nothing’s changed.” Her voice had dropped so low, he could barely hear her. “Which means everything’s changed. It has to. I have my own choices to make.” She turned around to stare up at the keep’s pinnacle. “Maybe we—” she swallowed loudly, “Maybe we aren’t such a good idea after all.”

The keep. Her damn keep vision! Because of that racking vision, she believed she would lay waste to Kinderra. It had to be wrong. She wasn’t capable of that kind of evil. He knew her. She was the most loving person he knew. She fought herself every time she walked into the healing hostel to help him with patients, even though it terrified her to do so. Those weren’t the actions of a demon bent on wielding death. They were the actions of someone trying to do the right thing, the good thing. The Light thing.

Worried, he moved closer. “Maybe it’s time to tell your parents what you are. Maybe it’s even time to let them know about the keep.”

“How can you even suggest such a thing?” She groaned in frustration. She hid her face in her hands a moment, then threw them back down.

“I want to help you. I think you know that,” he said. “Please listen to me. My parents know we’ve been doing some sort of healing together. How long do you think it’s going to be before they tell your parents? We can’t hide anymore.”

She spun back to face him. “Hiding the fact that I’m a Trine is what’s saving everyone from me right now.”

“Tell your parents about your Aspects,” he pleaded once again. “We’ll find a way to deal with whatever happens. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“Don’t you understand? I am alone.” She held her arms out in an appeal. “Don’t you think I want to tell my parents? Don’t you think I want help to stop all of this? For Aspects’ sakes, Teague, I’m trying desperately to honor who I am called to be, yet avoid who I am to become!” Tears began to shimmer in her silver eyes. “I tried to tell your parents. But if they don’t believe in us, believe that we can overcome any hardships, how will they believe that I’m going to cause all of this?” She slammed her hand down on a parapet capstone. “I even tried to tell my parents earlier. I want to tell them, but I can’t. My father still calls me ‘his tiny child.’ By the Light, it’s like he still sees me as that infant born two months early sometimes. They won’t believe me. They would never believe me. Even you don’t. How do you expect them to?”

“Mirana—”

“If I told them I was a Trine, they would demand I choose an amulet immediately, and choosing would lead to this damned watchtower exploding and death and nothingness!” She threw her hands out to her sides. “To prevent that from happening, I would have no other choice than to leave in exile. What then, Teague? My Aspects will still speak to me. I can run away from every Fal’kin and Unaspected on the continent, but I can’t outrun my Aspects. What if I see my father’s life threatened again? Or someone innocent like Maark Bedane? Or-Or you? I’m living in the wilds of Kinderra somewhere. What then? Do I ignore what I see, what I sense? Do I ignore the fact I could help? Do I let my father die this time? Do I let you—” She curled her fingers into fists. “No matter what I do, people will die. My Aspects have given me a birthright without honor. They have left me with a life I cannot live.”

Teague rushed over and wrapped his arms around her, but she did not return his embrace. He held her closer still and whispered into her dark hair, “You think this is what will happen, but you don’t know for sure. You’ve never truly told anyone the whole of it except me. Tell. Your parents.”

“Teague—”

“Maybe they actually will believe you. If they don’t, well, you’re not much worse off than you are now. We’ll leave. Together.”

The tension melted from her body. That was good. Wait. Now, she felt completely limp. That was bad.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe they will believe me. They and all the Fal’kin will drag me out beyond the Great Gates. Their amulets will solve everything.” She laughed, a cold one he’d never heard her make before. She turned, peering out over the vista. “Everyone would be safe then. You’ll be safe. Maybe that would be for the best. For everyone.”

His brows drew together in confusion. “What do you mean?” When she didn’t answer, he held her back from him. “You’re joking. Right?” She was joking. She had to be. She better be.

“Of course, of course.” She waved him off, however, she wouldn’t meet his eyes. In fact, she wasn’t looking at anything, just sort gazing past his shoulder.

He pulled her close once more and held her fiercely. “I know you are not evil. I know you will never become evil. Mirana, you don’t really know what your keep vision means. Talk to your parents. We’ll see this through together.”

She pushed him away, gentle but resolute. “Go tell your parents you spoke out of turn. Stay here and help Gemma prepare supplies. There is much to do before the Fal’kin leave.”

“Mirana.”

“Please leave me.”

Tears began to scald his eyes. “I love you.”

“Leave me.”

When Teague reached the stairwell door, he paused and turned around. He watched her take off his pendant—along with the promise it held—and put it into her belt pouch.

She fought demons he could not see and never would. No matter how hard he tried.

CHAPTER 12

“In the stillness before the war horns sound is the true moment of decision: Will you answer the Aspects’ call or the call of fear?”

—The Book of Kinderra

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A raindrop splattered on the back of Mirana’s hand. It blew in from the small clerestory window high up in the seer’s training room. On sunny days, light would pour through the opening to form a tightly focused shaft ending in a brilliant square in the center of the floor. Today, however, it only focused the rain from the spring storm.

The weather had finally changed, bringing warm wind and downpours. It melted the ice. It saturated the roads. It drowned the new crops. She brought her hand to her mouth and sucked off the drop. It was no better than winter.

The bare room featured no decorations or furniture, nothing to distract a seer from visions. Unfortunately, the sparseness of the room only left her with her thoughts to consume her.

She tried to pay attention to her mother’s lesson, as the other twelve seer scholaire’e around her were, but her mind kept drifting. Uneasiness about the Two Rivers Ford visions continued to prickle her mind over the last sevendays like a splinter just below the skin—always nagging but impossible to remove.

Lord Garis had said she couldn’t possibly have gotten accurate information from her first viewing of the Ford vision, the one where she thought she had seen thousands of Ken’nar. Aspects Above knew she didn’t see every vision the other seers did. She couldn’t without an amulet, even if she wanted to. Her Seeing Aspect, however, had only been part of what had led her to believe a Ken’nar horde of that size would attack the garrison. Her other gifts added to her convictions—the sense of so very many bloodthirsty lives around her mediated by her Defending Aspect, the sudden stillness of life notes amplified by her Healing Aspect.

Not once, though, had she misinterpreted a vision she did see. Not once. Had she lost what little control she had of her Aspects? Whatever hope she had begun to feel from Lord Garis melted away like frost in a warm rain shower.

Her mother called images of Two Rivers Ford to Mirana’s mind and the minds of the other young seers, as much to teach and test them as to perhaps have them reveal some unnoticed detail of information the Kin-Deren Fal’kin could use to their advantage against the Ken’nar.

The scenes her mother sent were the same ones Mirana had been seeing for sevendays. Nothing had changed. How could she be wrong when she had sensed so much with all three of her Aspects? Yet, she had not seen, had not sensed, anything like the thousands of Ken’nar again.

“As I view this scene, can anyone give me an estimate of how many Ken’nar he or she sees?” her mother asked. Her voice sounded soft, mesmerizing. Her yellow topaz glowed, spilling golden light around the room.

“Five hundred. Maybe five hundred and fifty,” Pelen said. He had not stopped talking about all the frightening images he would conjure up with his amulet to terrify the Ken’nar on the battlefield when he chose next summer. Why couldn’t she feel like that—excited and eager to choose an amulet and use it? “The number of Ken’nar troops at the Ford appears to be similar to their forces at the Dawn Point Incursion of 3358.”

Her mother nodded. “Excellent. That has been our estimate as well.”

Pelen’s observation was right. Only a few hundred Ken’nar appeared to ride on the Ford now, as had been foreseen for sevendays. How could there possibly be two completely different versions of the attack on Two Rivers Ford and both still be correct?

One of the very few skills in which she once had placed her confidence was her ability to interpret what she saw. Now, she no longer trusted herself. How many more visions would she not understand correctly?

“Can anyone surmise from where the Ken’nar have come?” her mother questioned.

“From the north. The span of that bridge is narrower than the other one. It’s the Garnath River bridge,” Yenira said. “Also, we heard from the defenders Ken’nar entered the Kana-Akün interior during the winter. Perhaps they came from Falantir, its capital.” The older girl was always so smug, but Mirana supposed she had every right to be. She, too, was seldom wrong in her predictions.

Desde nodded. “Ai. Good. We believe that as well. You are more than ready for your amulet, Yenira.”

The girl sat back, smiling in satisfaction.

Teague would be going. Even five hundred Ken’nar would fight viciously. What if there would be ten times as many, like at the Vale i’Dúadar? She ground her knuckles in the rough stone pavers, wanting the pain to blot out the thought.

“Landmarks like mountain ranges are also good reference points,” her mother said. “Although it helps if there are recognizable peaks or a profile. Closer in, well, one rock ledge can look pretty much like another.”

Mirana wiped her bloody knuckles on the sleeve of her father’s woolen tunic that engulfed her over her clothes. The spring weather was too warm for such a heavy sweater, but she hadn’t put it on for warmth. She put it on to be comforted. It wasn’t working well for that either. Her father had been named interim Steward of the Quorum of Light. Would he stay in Deren or head to the Ford with Kin-Deren’s provincial troops and the il’Kin?

“Sometimes, such a vague reference point can be of benefit. It helped the Kin-Deren forces as they hid in the Dar-Tal Si Mountains at the Battle of the Vale i’Dúadar,” her mother continued. “As you remember, our split forces were a complete surprise to the Ken’nar and led to their rout that day.”

Mirana frowned. Who was she kidding? Her father was a defender. He lived for one thing: to defend. Her mother would be going, too. She was prime of a province now. Any physical threat to the province demanded her presence.

“Good work today, all of you.” Her mother rose to her feet. “Before I release you for the day, I wanted to say how very proud I am of each one of you. This will be my last lesson with you for a while. I will be riding out with our forces for the Ford tomorrow. I have asked Seer Vesta to remain behind and continue your training. My only regret is I will not be able to officiate this summer’s Choosing Ceremony. I cannot believe eighteen summers have passed for so many of you, and you will be choosing. I remember when you were all just babes. Rememore Kin e Forte. Remember the Light and the Keep, Ëi cara’e.”

If her mother held any fear of the upcoming battle, she certainly did not show it. Her voice was full of emotion, ai, but not fear.

Her mother and the seer scholaire’e filed out of the training room, leaving Mirana alone. Remember the Light and the Keep. She didn’t want to remember it at all, she wanted to forget it ever existed.

Running away would have solved nothing. Ai, it would keep an amulet from hanging around her neck, but her Aspects would continue to constrict her like a hangman’s noose. If she left, the knowledge that people would die who could have been saved would be just as damning as killing them through the fate awaiting her at Jasal’s Keep. As always, telling everyone of the impending destruction at her hands would get her nowhere. They’d think the notion was ludicrous. She highly doubted the Fal’kin would see her as a threat serious enough to require immediate execution with their amulets—something that hadn’t been done in centuries. At best, they’d write it off as a nightmare, at worst, she was imagining it. No, her revelation would be dismissed out of hand by everyone, even her parents. They loved her. Because they loved her, they would never understand. Or believe.

Mirana reached for her small belt knife.

She knew of one sure way, however, to stop her future. To stop it all. Forever.

She frowned. As she sheathed the blade, her fingers brushed her belt pouch and the cherished rectangular object within it. Teague’s pendant.

She removed it and traced its delicate lines. The mica reflected the heat from her palm.

Teague. Her parents. Teague’s parents. Binthe and Morgan, her father’s il’Kin. So many others who were friends, mentors. They would all be at the Ford. With only five hundred-odd Ken’nar, the Fal’kin from Kin-Deren would be victorious. How could they not? The Kin-Deren forces outnumbered the Ken’nar four to one. Like her mother had said only a moment ago, it would be like the victory the Fal’kin claimed at the Battle of Vale when they had split their forces. How could she have been so wrong about the Ford?

Unless she was not.

She gasped. Split forces. Victory.

An avalanche of understanding careened through her mind. She had been right all along. The first viewing of the Ford attack was not simply a preamble to the second. It was a separate and distinct prescience of its own. She truly saw two different visions. Both versions of the attack on the Ford installation were correct. The Ken’nar’s Dark Trine would split his troops. Her first vision, the one with thousands of Ken’nar, came after the second one with Kin-Deren’s more numerous forces. She first saw the attack’s conclusion, the Ken’nar rear guard. When she saw the vision again with Lord Garis—that refined premonition, with just five hundred Ken’nar and thousands of Fal’kin from Kin-Deren province—that was the Dark Trine’s opening ploy!

Five hundred Ken’nar would indeed attack from the north. The Ken’nar Dark Trine would hold back more than four thousand to attack later when the Fal’kin were fully engaged with the smaller force. The Fal’kin would be annihilated.

She brought her shaking hands to her mouth. “Oh, Aspects Above, no. What have I done?”

If she had only listened to herself—trusted herself as the person she was now and not some distant, horrific version of herself—her mother and her troops could have prepared for a larger force, even sought help from neighboring provinces. Instead, her self-denial and her silence had left Kin-Deren to march into a trap where they would be decimated. And it was all her fault.

Mirana jammed Teague’s pendant back into her belt pouch and tore out of the training room.

CHAPTER 13

“Like leaves unfurling in the spring, so didst my dream unfold before my eyes. Whether for good or ill, I could not tell. Its conclusion still lay behind the curtain of understanding.”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

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Mirana threw the door open to her mother’s study with a swipe of her hand and her Aspects. “Your vision of the Ford. It’s a trap.”

“Ah, there you are—” Her mother froze. “What?”

“The Ken’nar will split their forces. We’re marching into a trap.”

Her mother’s council gathered in her prime’s study—her senior seers, provincial defender commanders, Morgan Jord and Binthe Lima from her father’s il’Kin, Teague’s parents. Her father. Lord Trine Tetric Garis.

“The Ken’nar Dark Trine will split his forces.” She gulped a breath. “Five hundred will indeed attack, as we all have seen, but he will reserve the majority of his troops until we’re occupied with his vanguard. The others will then charge in and surround us. By the thousands.”

Her mother rose from her chair. “How do you know this?”

Mirana’s heart banged in her chest, striking out at her ribs. “I saw it. I didn’t understand at first. As we know, the vision was hard to understand because it mostly takes place at night. By the time I studied it again with Lord Garis, it became what we see now. I had two separate visions of the Ford attack.”

“Mirana—” the Trine said.

Her mother held up her hand, stopping his comment. “You saw a different version of Two Rivers Ford? A vision before this one? One you did not tell me about?”

Mirana nodded slowly. Her breath turned into soft, jagged gasps. “I thought I was wrong, and that it was just a fuzzier and earlier version of the one we’ve been seeing for sevendays. I never saw it again. So, I didn’t say anything. The one we’ve all been seeing will take place before what I saw the first time. My first vision was the conclusion of the attack, not the beginning. He will attack with five thousand, only he’s split that single force into two—a smaller one and a larger one. I saw them both.” She swallowed and tried to breathe at the same time. “I saw. Them. Both.”

“Withholding a vision is a crime. A grave one. You know this,” her mother said, her voice hushed with horror. “If you were a full Fal’kin with an amulet about her neck, I would have to consider expulsion from the province. What have you done, child?”

The minds of those gathered assaulted her. They leaped upon her like grynwen on prey. The senior seers stood around her, judgment and downright disgust emanating from their minds. Binthe, her sea-green eyes full of compassion, full of trepidation. Morgan, his handsome bearded face wearing the hard, stoic expression of a man who knew he might not be alive in a matter of days. Niah Beltran turned away from Mirana, her mind closed. Tennen Beltran’s, however, was not. His mind bored into hers with the precision of an amulet-driven scalpel. Tetric Garis, his face remained as inscrutable as his mind. Her father—

“Paithe, I thought what I saw was wrong. I swear it.” Mirana’s trembling blurred the sound of her words. Her cheeks flushed with heat. “Maybe the Ken’nar Dark Trine was going to attack with his full might, then changed his plans to what we see now. I don’t know. I saw only once the single force of thousands. It never happened again. I thought I was wrong. I’m so sorry.”

Her mother ran over and dragged her to the center of the room with an iron grip on her wrist. She slapped Mirana’s hand over her topaz amulet. “Call to us what you first saw.”

She tried to pull her hand back from her mother’s unyielding grip. “I can’t—”

“Call. Your. First vision. All of it,” her mother repeated, snapping off each word like a dry twig.

Mirana’s shoulders fell in bitter defeat. Her transgressions stood naked, her sins exposed, with nowhere to hide. Fear of her fate had driven her to turn her back on the shred of belief she had in herself. She had begged the Aspects Above for more time to find a different future for herself, one without corrupting her Aspects. Her actions to prevent her fate had only brought her closer to her downfall. Thousands would now pay for her fear, her hesitation, and her cowardice because there was no time to seek help from other provinces. Kin-Deren would be fighting on its own. Her people would pay for her sins just like they had centuries ago with her ancestor Jasal Pinal. Time had run out. For the Fal’kin. For her.

She was the Dark Trine.

The amulet called to her, slowly drawing her Aspects from her. Her breath left her lungs in short, useless bursts. Her stomach clenched and bile seared her throat. She swallowed and closed her eyes. A brilliant yellow light burst from her mother’s topaz between their fingers as Desde projected Mirana’s memory out through her amulet. Ethereal fighters floated like specters in front of the Fal’kin.

Rain falls, a cold, liquid curtain. Lightning flares from roiling clouds, illuminating the night, only to plunge it back into darkness a heartbeat later. Cries of blood-thirsty grynwen pierce the night. A wave of black riders pounds down a rise above Two Rivers Ford. Three thousand. Lightning flickers again. Four thousand. Riders flood across the Kin-Deren landmass and charge into the Ford garrison, an endless wave of dark bodies. Five thousand. The landscape fades as night descends once more between the flashes of lightning. A smaller force of fighters fans out to meet the riders. The darkness and the storm and the uncertain skeins of the future hide the heraldics of the combatants’ uniforms. Another lightning bolt explodes across the dark sky. Grynwen howl like demon hounds unleashed from the Underworld, ripping flesh from bone. Tents erupt in flames. Screams of the dying fill the air. The battlefield fades once more under the shroud of darkness.

The crystal of her mother’s amulet began to take on a life of its own with its nearness, pulling at Mirana, drawing, bleeding the memory of the images out of her.

On and on they come, this terrifying mass of horses and grynwen and swords and amulets, visible one moment in the lightning, only to disappear in the next. Amulets burst in jets of their own colored lightning as the two forces hurl death at one another. Bodies fall and grynwen feed. The smaller force of fighters is pushed southward, toward the river chasm, unable to beat back the onslaught of the larger army. Corpses of the dead impede fighters, sending men and women from both forces off the Ford bridges to their doom into the river ravine below.

Her heart constricted within the cage of her ribs with a sharp, visceral ache. Her legs grew weak, her bones dissolving along with her resolve. Her Defending Aspect rose, searing and urgent, in response to what she witnessed again in her memory. Her Healing Aspect begged to be released upon the mortal wounds that had yet to come. The demand from her mother’s amulet was insistent, incessant, as it wrenched from her the memory of that first vision of slaughter awaiting Two Rivers Ford.

Gabrial, the Guiding Star, quivers over the backbone of the Dar-Anar Mountains in the west, a piercing silver eye in the red dawn. Bellicose chanting overtakes the refrains of fading life notes, the howls of grynwen sing a crying descant. Lightning flares again then dies.

Jasal’s Keep.

The watchtower explodes in light, unleashing white fury.

Mirana tore her hand away from her mother and staggered back, gasping for breath. Her hair clung to her forehead with sweat.

“This is a completely different vision,” Morgan said, his voice hushed. “It is—” the defender swallowed, “deeply concerning.”

“Call it to me again,” her mother ordered, reaching for Mirana’s hand again.

She backed away. “Mother, please don’t make me—”

“Now.”

She clenched Desde’s hand and forced her memory of the vision once more from her mind.

“Wait. I will hold it here,” her mother commanded.

An image of the battlefield, hazy with the loosely woven skeins of time, hung frozen in front of the Fal’kin from Desde’s amulet. A massive army in black armor darkened the land, briefly illuminated by lightning. Individual fighters could not be made out clearly, but the dark armor they wore was apparent. The armor of the Ken’nar. The murmuring in the room ceased.

“There must be four, five thousand Ken’nar,” her father whispered.

Binthe shook her head slowly, her gaze riveted on the image. “We have seen nothing of this.”

Desde released Mirana’s hand and the ghostly image of fighters slowly disappeared. “Tetric, you both came to me and told me we would be attacked by five hundred Ken’nar. The very same vision I had. The same one I’ve had—we’ve all had—all along.”

“Ai, I, too, saw some hazy thousands of fighters,” the tall Trine said as he stood from his chair. “She told me she had been confused by what she saw, a greater force attacking a lesser force, but both armies were indistinct. When we reached for the Seeing Aspect together to understand just who those fighters were, it was as we see it now. The Fal’kin are the thousands, not the Ken’nar. The vision has remained so ever since.”

The muscles in her mother’s jaw tightened.

“Mother—”

“You blame my daughter for this?” Desde questioned Lord Garis.

“No, not at all. And neither should you. Nor should any of you.” His dark gaze traveled around the room. “This is a memory of a vision, Desde, not an actual one. That’s why I didn’t have her call it to me.” He gestured to the empty air in the middle of the room where the translucent images had been displayed. “As I said, by the time I called on my Seeing Aspect and we viewed the actual vision together, it appears as it does now. There is no way the girl could have possibly understood at the time what she was seeing. Without an amulet, she would have had absolutely no way of controlling the vision to examine it.”

“She understands it now,” her mother hissed, “and, it appears she may be correct.”

“I can explain—” Mirana stepped closer to her.

“If you must assign blame, my prime, put it on my shoulders,” Lord Garis said, stopping her reply. “None of us even considered looking into different skeins of time for something different. Did we not all believe we had seen enough? Only your daughter had the wisdom to think of other possibilities.”

The Trine’s mind pushed against hers, not to condemn her but something else. To comfort her? She didn’t deserve his comfort and certainly not his defense.

“How do we know this memory of hers,” her father gestured toward her, “is any more correct than the one you all have been seeing? You seers tell me visions change all the time. I agree with Tetric. Mirana doesn’t have an amulet to bring in the precision required. I’ve been around enough seers to know it wouldn’t be the first time emotions skewed an interpretation of a vision and certainly the memory of one.”

“My memory is not wrong, Father,” she said. “My vision is correct.”

He gave her a worried smile. “I know you believe it to be correct.”

It was time to tell them before she put even more people in jeopardy. Everything. All of it. She had no choice. Maybe she never really did.

She stared into the faces around the chamber, giving in to their condemning expressions. “It is difficult to see the armies at Two Rivers Ford if one only looks at the vision with the Seeing Aspect. My awareness of the battle around me spoke to me of thousands more than you can see in the mind’s eye. I felt them, their presences, their bloodlust. My chest ached with the need to release amulet fire. I sensed their heartbeats, too. Their wounds cried out to me. Their deaths. So much death. My first vision is right because I sensed it with my Aspects. All three of them.” She took a breath, and, for a moment, it would not leave her body. “I am a Trine.”

“Mirana,” her mother cried.

... Hush, now ... her father called to her, his strident mind-voice resounding within her. ... All will be well ...

She tried to block out the shock of the others from her mind, but it was impossible. It engulfed her like the wave of Ken’nar that would engulf the Ford.

“This is all my fault. I am so sorry.” The words sounded so pathetically inadequate. Nothing would make up for this. Nothing. The wall of deceit behind which she had hidden for summers crashed down around her.

She was the Dark Trine.

“I’ve hidden my Aspects from you because I was trying to stop a far more horrific nightmare than all of this. I am a Trine. I am the Dark Trine, and I will destroy Kinderra. Someday.”

Desperation, mirroring her own, escaped from her father’s mind to hers. “Mirana, quiet now. You are overwhelmed.” He turned to the others. “She’s obviously distraught. Our daughter is not a Trine. She certainly could not destroy anything. She’s a seer.”

Lord Garis folded his long arms. “Are you so certain?”

“I think I should know my own child’s gift,” Kaarl snapped.

“Tetric may be right,” Patrua Tennen said. “She has been healing, or close to it, for a while now.” His gaze, so like Teague’s yet so unfamiliar in its raw disbelief, bored into her. “And she has not said a single word of it.”

Her father gave a disgusted laugh. “How do you know it has been Mirana who has done these supposed healings?”

“We started to notice them several summers ago after Teague fractured his arm,” Matrua Niah replied. “That injury itself made no sense. The break was fresh, yet there had been some partial remodeling. Performed incorrectly. The only way this could have occurred was by a healer. At first, we thought maybe Teague had finally—But then summers went by, and, well, we knew it wasn’t Teague who had tried to heal.” The healer woman’s hands curled into fists for a moment, then relaxed. “These past few summers our use of numbweed in the hostel has dropped by magnitudes. Maybe Mirana has yet to mend flesh and definitively set bone, but she has been suppressing the pain of our patients nearly as deeply as we could.”

“There is nothing to debate—” Mirana started.

... Be still, girl ... her father called sharply. “Niah, we all can shunt away pain. My Light, if I couldn’t, I would have never made it past my first battle.”

“That has more to do with endurance than the actual calming of nerves,” she replied. “She’s been suppressing pain with the Healing Aspect. On others. Which is the utmost any healer can do without an amulet, and even that is difficult.”

Teague’s father nodded in agreement with his wife. “Kaarl, even we remember how quickly she progressed in training as a battle seer. She nearly bested Dav and Niall both inside of six months. No seer child of ten summers could do that. Unless she is a defender, too. This is a blessing. One we desperately need, given what’s about to take place.”

“She does not defend, Tennen,” her father snarled. “She’s a seer. She saw their moves. That’s all. Dav and Niall know her too well and didn’t press her enough. That’s why she appeared to excel so quickly with a sword. My daughter is no Trine.”

“I do not think the leaders of Kin-Deren’s provincial armies would willingly shirk their duty in training,” the healer rejoined.

Healer Niah moved to stand beside her husband. “I was there when that girl was born. Her Aspect was so incredibly powerful but had no alignment. We thought perhaps it was because she had come two months early or even her difficult breech birth. Perhaps, though, it was due to all three Aspects superimposed over each other. Ask Tetric.”

Her father flicked his eyes to Tetric Garis then back to Niah Beltran like a bullwhip. “Mirana is no Trine. Just you speaking such words could put her life in jeopardy.”

“I love her as much as you do. I would never do anything to harm that child,” Matrua Niah said, pointing to her.

“Except try to make it impossible for her to be near your son,” her father seethed.

Her mother reached for her father’s arm. “Kaarl, please.”

Tennen took a step towards her father. “Are you alleging my wife would attempt to get your daughter killed to prevent her from joining in union to my son?”

Her father moved closer still. “A father will do anything to protect his child.”

“Stop it, Father!” Mirana cried. “Listen to me! All of you. I have to stop pretending to be something I’m not. I’m not a seer. Or not just a seer. I’m a defender and a healer as well. I am a Trine.”

Stark hopelessness etched itself on her father’s face. “Mirana. Please. Don’t.”

Her mother uttered a sob. “Biraena, Lightness, please. Don’t do this.”

“I didn’t know at first. My Seeing and my Defending Aspects were almost always joined.” She wove her fingers together. “But healing?” She glanced at Tennen and Niah, then looked down at her boots. “I didn’t understand until Teague broke his arm. Then it was no longer just sight. It was a power. An Aspect. I had to heal him. I had to.”

“Why didn’t you come to us then?” Patrua Tennen asked.

Binthe Lima clutched her emerald amulet. “Why would you keep this to yourself? You know we love you. I would lay down my life for you.”

Mirana shook her head quickly. “Binthe, you don’t understand—”

Lord Garis moved to stand close behind her as if he were guarding her against the others. “She said nothing because she is terrified. It is not easy knowing every single Ken’nar would kill you instantly if he or she could, especially when you have seen so few summers. It was the same for me when I was a child. Kaarl is not wrong. Her life will be in danger with this revelation.”

“None of you will speak of this. It means her life,” her father added, the warning unmistakable in his voice.

Mirana slipped a hand inside her belt pouch to hold Teague’s pendant for comfort. All that did was remind her that he, too, could be caught up in this nightmare. She dropped her hand to her side. “I tried for summers to hide my Defending and Healing Aspects, and look what’s happened? I can’t hide this anymore. Too much is at stake. You call the one who leads the Ken’nar the Dark Trine. Are you so certain he is, in fact, a Trine? Have you ever seen him in the flesh? Have you ever fought against him, face-to-face?”

The Trine gifts. The three Aspects. That was more power than one mortal should hold. It was an abomination. She was an abomination. She was the Dark Trine.

“What are you saying?” Her mother’s voice quaked in a way she had never heard before—a strangled, almost wheezing quality diluting her normally melodious alto.

Her parents. All of them. They didn’t understand. “The Trine Prophecy speaks of the Light Trine and the Dark Trine. There is nothing written anywhere about three Trines. I know. I’ve looked. Lord Garis is our Light Trine. What role, then, does the prophecy leave for me?”

The minds of the other Fal’kin burst through her consciousness like exploding amulets. Voices shouted, but it was all just noise in her ears. Her heartbeat pulsed in her eardrums until it, too, faded into a ringing.

“Mirana.” Her father ran to her and gripped her arms so hard it hurt.

“You are frightened, child,” Lord Garis said, “but you are not the Dark Trine.”

She pushed her father away and backed against the tall Trine. “Kinderra will be destroyed. Because of me. I’ve seen it.” Her voice sounded strange to her, someone else’s words echoing through her ears.

How many Ken’nar had Lord Garis put down with his amulet? If she asked him, would he do it? Was it not his destiny as the Thrice-blessed to stop the Thrice-cursed? Ice replaced the burning bile in her stomach, a smothering, chill blanket, oddly comforting. Maybe he would respect her for finding a shred of courage at the end. Maybe he would be quick.

Her mother rushed over, pulled her from the men, and held her. “You are not the Dark Trine. You cannot be.” Her voice grew shrill. “I don’t know what could have possibly made you think that. You are just frightened. Ai, it is your fear making you believe these things. Perhaps it is an actual nightmare. Ai, that is what it is. It is just a nightmare, biraena.”

Ai, it was a nightmare. Of apocalyptic proportions.

Her father’s silver eyes drilled into hers. “I don’t know why you are saying all of this, but you are not the Dark Trine. You are not any Trine. You are a seer. Do you hear me? A seer. Just. A seer.”

Desde’s face turned into a pale mask of surrender. “Kaarl. Enough.”

“You should have given her to me long ago.” The tall Trine glared at her father. “Only I can protect her from those who would kill her at the Ford.”

Her father’s hands curled into fists and turned to her mother. “She’s not going to the Ford.”

“Ai, she is. She must.”

“Surely, you don’t mean to bring her there. We can’t.”

“I have no choice,” her mother continued. “If there is even a chance she is correct, I will need every Fal’kin in the province I can send. We will be outnumbered.”

Morgan stepped forward. “I will leave tonight, my prime, and be in Kasan within a sevenday. We will get aid from Sün-Kasal. That province has one of the largest complements of Fal’kin in Kinderra.”

“There is not enough time.” Desde closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed audibly. “Even if you left this very moment, Sün-Kasal’s defenders will never be able to reach the Ford in time. Why do you think we leave at dawn? You’ve seen the position of Gabrial from our visions. That gives us less than two sevendays to reach the Ford ourselves. I will have to order any scholaire’e of at least sixteen summers to choose their amulets now. Those of at least fifteen summers will choose and serve in support roles. We cannot spare experienced Fal’kin to provision weapons and tend horses during the battle.”

Mirana’s heart constricted. By her mother’s pronouncement, she would have to choose an amulet.

“I can’t. You don’t understand what an amulet in my hands—”

Her father ignored her protests, and pulled her mother’s arm, forcing her to look at him. “Desde, do you understand what you are saying? You can’t take her to the Ford. You cannot.”

“I have no choice. I need every last Fal’kin in the province to turn back the Ken’nar. I cannot ask other mothers and fathers to give up their children while I hold my own back, even if it shatters my heart to do so. Our children must take up their amulets. Tonight. Including Mirana. I know what this means, Ëi ama, but I have no choice. She must choose her amulet and ride to the Ford. I need her there. Kinderra needs her there.”

Her mother’s pronouncement drove like a pike through Mirana’s mind. Turning back from an amulet had been her last refuge to prevent her destiny of destruction. Cold no longer surrounded her with an insidious comfort but became a lethal weight dragging her down.

“No. I must not choose. I told you. I will destroy Kinderra, not save her. I am the Dark Trine.”

“Miri, stop this! Now!” Kaarl shouted, swiping his hand down like a sword. “You are not the Dark Trine!”

“Your father is right,” Lord Garis said. “Listen to him.”

“If you don’t believe me, I will show you.” She thrust out her hand and reached for the Trine’s amulet to release the keep vision from her mind.

He grabbed her hand before she could touch the hematite crystal. ... No, Mirana, stop ... Even if they see it, they will not understand its importance ... I can help you ...

She tried to pull her hand back from his, but it remained locked in his grip. “No, you can’t. Nobody can.”

“Mirana, trust me. It will be all right.”

She locked herself behind U’Nehíl, wanting not just her presence but her entire being to disappear. It would never be all right unless she made it right. One way or another.

CHAPTER 14

“Oëa gemma pone com aste proxi Ëi pecta. Oëa servad ísi gloriaé en nome il’Aspecta’e Alta hale!”

(“Thy crystal resteth like a star against my breast. Thy servant is glorified in the name of the holy Aspects Above!”)

—The Exultantae, Ora Fal’kinnen 12:3–4

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Mirana stood unmoving, her feet a part of the slate pavers on the floor. The central nave of the cavernous gathering hall stretched before her, both impossibly long and frighteningly short. As a very young child, she had been terrified of becoming lost from her parents during convocations within the enormous sanctuary. Now, the aisle that once appeared so lengthy was not nearly long enough to give her time to find a path away from the future she dreaded.

The line of Fal’kin scholaire’e slowly moved toward a dais at the aisle’s end, one hundred brave youths, fear and expectation written on their faces.

“Go on, sweetling. I thought you’d be running up that aisle.”

She turned toward the familiar voice. Gemma hadn’t heard yet what happened at the war council, not everything. She would learn soon enough.

The boy in front of her was already five rows ahead. She nodded to the herbswoman and attempted to smile. She dragged one foot forward and began walking in the Choosing Ceremony procession.

Hundreds of Fal’kin packed the hall’s transepts and aisles. The heat from the packed bodies, the acrid scent of incense, and the smothering pall of emotion-laden minds pressed down on her.

Torchlight and candlelight quaked within the gathering hall in anemic mimicry of the storm’s lightning outside. The amulets of hundreds of Fal’kin ebbed and glowed in the fretful light, reflecting the calls and emotions of their owners. She concentrated on the worn slate floor tiles to try and distance herself from the sensations of which she was all too keenly aware. A myriad of colors from the amulet crystals played strange shadows against lofty stone columns upholding a ceiling lost in darkness.

Mirana prayed as she stumbled forward on leaden feet. The one thing—the one thing!—she had promised herself was that she would never accept an amulet into her soul unless she could find a way to avoid her destructive fate at Jasal’s Keep. Perhaps choosing an amulet was exactly what the Aspects Above had willed for her after all.

She lifted her head to the dark ceiling. “If I give myself to your divine directive and take up an amulet, will you take Jasal’s Keep from me?” Only the thunder answered in reply. The leather pectoral armor constricted her chest like a prisoner’s bonds as she walked. Thick animal-hide guards shackled her thighs over buckskin leggings.

She dimly recalled Binthe Lima and Niah Beltran securing her armor while her mother watched. The young il’Kin seer’s face had remained stoic, belying the tears that brimmed in her eyes. Matrua Niah had tried to hold back her crying, odd guttural clicks in her throat. Mirana’s hands had shaken violently as she struggled to fasten the buckle of her knife belt. Her mother held out two long knives. The weapons of battle seers. With numb fingers, she had placed them in the sheaths at her waist, nicking her unsteady thumb on one. Her mother had remained silent as she wound Mirana’s hair into a coil at the nape of her neck where it would not interfere if she had to fight. Her hands had trembled as much as Mirana’s own.

All at once, the emotions her mother had locked within her escaped in a cry. She had pulled Mirana to her fiercely and refused to let her go. Binthe and Niah had to pull her away, both women vowing to give their own lives to keep her safe.

Her mother was here now in the gathering hall, standing atop the dais at the end of that impossibly long, frighteningly short nave. Or was she? Tall and golden-haired, wrapped in silver mail and silver-plated leather, gleaming knives of her own caressing her hips. Her yellow topaz scintillated like the venomous eye of a serpent. That woman was not her maithe. She was not even a woman, but the incarnation of a heathen goddess of war.

The province’s senior Fal’kin stood in the dark shadows of the dais behind her mother, an austere and foreboding pantheon of lesser gods.

“Kin il’Aspecta’e Alta biran derra u’kin voide. Kinderra Oëme nomé fár Id ísi Derra i’Kin.” The ancient chant her mother sang reverberated in her ears.

The youth ahead of Mirana had a sword strapped to his waist, not long knives. Light glinted off the shiny metal of the cross guard. Its luster betrayed that the blade had yet to be tested. Like its owner. He would be elevated from a scholaire to a defender. And he would likely die at the Ford.

“The Light of the Aspects Above called land forth from the dark void. Kinderra they named it, for it was the Land of Light. May the Light of the Aspects shine on the land,” the Fal’kin responded to the orison.

Her father stood near her mother on the altar, wearing the armor and mail he had shed only sevendays ago. His plain white livery was devoid of heraldics as the il’Kin were sworn to protect every province. She was a Trine. She was sworn to protect every province, too.

Her throat ached with the force of holding back yet another sob. “Please. I want to. You must know that,” she whispered once more to the silent godhead.

His silver gaze tried to catch hers. ... Mirana ... I will keep you safe ... You will be with Maithe and me ... You will be safe ...

His mind was filled with enough frantic determination to do something rash. She had never known him to react this way.

She averted her eyes from his and shut out his mind. She focused instead on putting one awkward, heavy-booted foot in front of the other as she filed up the aisle. The long knives brushed against her hips as she walked, a constant reminder of their presence.

... I will take up an amulet if that is what you need me to do ... she called to the Aspects Above. ... Answer me! ... Is this what you have willed for me? ...

The minds of those gathered pressed in on her, mocking her prayer with the response of their meaningless din. She groaned as her empty stomach clenched again.

Her mother chanted another passage from the Ora Fal’kinnen in the Old Tongue.

“May the Light of the Aspects fill the land,” the gathering responded in unison.

The Choosing Ceremony. The wedding of a Fal’kin’s Aspect to the soul of a crystal. The consummation of a sacred bond conferring control over the release of the Light from Within.

If the keep vision had never been in her life, she would have run up the nave just like Gemma described, and grabbed the first amulet she could reach. She would have raced to Two Rivers Ford and brought down every single Ken’nar herself to protect these innocents.

These youths, boys and girls she had known since she was born, would die because of her negligence. There had to be a way to save them, even now when all looked so hopeless. There just had to be. She moaned and grabbed a heavy wrought iron candle stand to steady herself.

... They don’t deserve to die ... I do ... Please, Aspects Above ... Help me save these people ...

Again, always, the Aspects Above were silent. They only spoke to her when they wished to torment her.

Three steps led up to the dais where her mother and the senior Fal’kin stood. Arrayed on the dais in front of them were hundreds of amulets. One would glow as its rightful owner drew near. Brilliant light would shine out in the darkness as the bond between crystal and Fal’kin took place. For her, however, not just one would sing to her soul. They all would.

Mirana staggered again. The boy in front of her whirled around with his defender’s reflexes to catch her. The chain mail under his metal armor made a high-pitched shivering sound as he quaked in fear and excitement. He gave her a knowing smile as his nervousness flowed to her mind. He must have assumed she felt the same way. He was right, and so very wrong. Her anxiety had nothing to do with the impending battle at the Ford.

It was not supposed to be like this. Joining with an amulet was supposed to be the most fulfilling experience of one’s life. Her mother once described choosing her amulet as a reunion with a part of herself she never knew she had lost. Her father wanted that union so badly, he broke into the gathering hall on the eve of a Choosing Ceremony when he was only fifteen and stole an amulet so he could bond with it three summers sooner than he should have.

The amulets on the dais would not want to bond with her. They would not want to join in holy union with her. They would possess her, devour her whole in their frantic need to fuse to her Trine Aspects. It would not be just one amulet that wailed to her as it would to other Fal’kin. All of them would. She was a Trine. Such was the miraculous and cruel gift of holding three Aspects. Every amulet, chosen or free, was open to her.

A powerful Aspected mind touched to hers. Behind the Fal’kin on the dais towered Trine Tetric Garis. His black armor appeared to absorb what little light surrounded him, darker than the darkness. The hematite amulet about his neck washed silver and black, a strange inverse of light. He softened his mind’s connection to hers, then closed himself from her. His amulet winked out. For a moment, that one less voice, that one less amulet to scrape at her soul, gave her relief. She took a deep breath and nodded to him. He inclined his head.

Outside, lightning flashed and thunder crashed. Mirana flinched as the stained-glass windows rattled in their frames.

Yenira, the seer girl with whom she shared so many of her mother’s lessons, ascended the three steps of the dais. The fear of the imminent battle at the Ford imprinted on her face washed away into beatified joy as a blue topaz gleamed in her hand. Moments later, an emerald glowed as a boy drew near. He released the white-knuckled grip on his battle seer’s long knife and picked up the green gem. His face broke into a glorious smile even before he placed its chain over his head.

A familiar mind, a presence rose above the rest. It didn’t call out to her—it couldn’t—she sensed it only because she was so closely attuned to it. Teague.

... Please don’t let him die ... she begged. ... Not Teague ... I will take an amulet and use it to destroy myself if that is what you will for me ... But please don’t hurt him ...

Mirana wilted, overwhelmed with grief at the possibility of losing Teague. She fell against a cold marble column, clinging to it for support, only to sink to her knees.

Teague hauled her up and pulled her into the shadows of an aisle. “Mirana,” he whispered as he held her. “I can’t believe you’re going through with this.”

“I have to. It is my prime’s order. These people. Our friends. The Ford will be their death sentence.” She peered through the dim light to the line of scholaire’e. “They are paying for my crimes. Maybe with an amulet, I can begin to make up for all of this.” Or maybe she would be the only one punished.

“I should have taken you away when you asked.” He pressed his cheek against hers. “I am so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“How is any of this your fault? It’s all mine. I allowed my fear to convince me I was wrong when I knew it was right. Now, so many of these—they will be killed.”

Their blood. On her hands. Now, she understood Tetric Garis’s words.

“You shouldn’t be doing this yet. I should,” he breathed, passion making his voice harsh. “I have the blood of defenders, seers, and healers in my veins. I should be going up to that dais. To take up an amulet to protect you. To keep that Ken’nar Dark Trine bastard away from you.”

He was the only thing she wanted to choose, the only one she wanted to join her life to. “You cannot save me from this. No one can.” Only the Aspects Above could save her now. Unless she wasn’t meant to be saved.

“We’re leaving. Now.” He pulled her arm.

“No. It’s too late for that.” She struggled, freeing herself from his grip. “Teague, leave me. Never speak to me again. For your own sake.”

Tears shimmered in his eyes, reflected by the candlelight. “Don’t push me away. I love you.”

“You can’t love me. Leave me. Please.” She turned once again to the procession.

The youth ahead of her climbed the three stairs.

“Who seeks communion with creation?” Mirana’s mother intoned.

“Atan,” the boy said. “Atan il’Badif il’Robaar.”

“What gift have the Aspects Above bestowed upon thee?”

“The Light to Defend,” he responded, his voice breathless with anticipation.

“Then, Defender, step forward and allow the living presence of the light of the Aspects to choose thy crystal as a testament to thy commitment to protect creation.”

Off in a far corner, an amethyst glowed with a violet so deep it was hard to see in the darkness. The boy rushed over to it and placed the amulet around his neck with trembling fingers.

All too soon, the dais loomed in front of Mirana. Her mother awaited her, her face stern, Lord Garis and the other Fal’kin behind her. Her father stood on the top-most stair, his expression resolute. His thoughts, however, sparked and flashed with martial precision like bursts of amulet fire. His gaze now darted from her to the amulets to the gathering hall exits, a battlefield defender searching for routes of advancement. For routes of escape? Was he going to drag her bodily from the ceremony?

The amulets. There on the dais. Lying in wait. She had just three steps to wait for a miracle. She began to shake uncontrollably. The unfamiliar weight of her combat boots caught a stair. Her father caught her and steadied her.

... Biraena, it will be all right ... I will keep you safe ...

“No, you can’t. I am in the hands of the Aspects Above,” she replied, shunning the intimacy of his mind’s voice.

She pushed out of his arms and climbed to the top of the dais. Amulets surrounded her, trapped her. She gasped at the intense pull on her Aspects. They were too close.

“Who—” her mother paused and pulled her shoulders back, steeling herself. “Who seeks communion with creation?” ... You will be wrapped in my love, biraena, as you were when the Aspects Above granted you life within me ...

Mirana’s throat constricted. For a moment, she could not make her tongue work. “Mirana il’Kellis il’Pinal.” Her jaw moved, but she heard no sound.

Her mother nodded down at her, sending love and encouragement from her mind. “What gift have the Aspects Above bestowed upon thee?”

She simply had to reach for an amulet, a gem that spoke to her and only to her. But, as a Trine, they all spoke to her, needed her. They wanted all she was.

She lifted her head and searched the dark ceiling once more for a deity that empowered her yet left her a captive. ... I surrender all that I am to you ... Use me as you will ...

Her mother swallowed back her tears and nodded. ... Speak, child ... It is time for the secrets to end ...

Lord Garis came forward and stood close. His mind slipped past her feeble attempts to shut him out. ... Choose any of these crystals and be at peace ... I will be with you ...

Her eyes held his, and for a moment, determination replaced fear. “That is for the Aspects Above to decide.”

“Step back, Garis,” her father hissed.

She lifted her hand, stopping her father from further protests. “Enough.” She raised her eyes to her mother’s. “The Aspects Above have granted—” She fought for breath, but this time, it would not come. Everything, the people’s minds, the amulets, her parents’ deep concern, their pride—it was too much. “They have—”

Lord Garis turned to face the assembly. “The Aspects Above have granted all three gifts on their servant—the Light to See, the Light to Defend, and the Light to Heal. The Aspects Above have called Mirana il’Kellis il’Pinal as their Trine.”

... You bastard! ... Her father’s mind-voice turned venomous.

Shouts rose from the throng behind her. Questions and shock she could not deflect assaulted her mind.

“Then, Trine, step forward and allow the living presence of the Light of the Aspects to choose thy crystal as a testament to thy commitment to protect creation.” Her mother’s words rang in her ears.

Mirana knelt to grasp a red beryl encased in gold lying at her feet. It began to glow, a soft dawn-pink hue in the center, deepening at its edges to the color of blood. Her fingertips touched the gem and accidentally brushed a blue sapphire near it. The beryl gleamed, as did the sapphire. She hesitated. Touching her foot, an emerald set in silver brightened. When she pushed it from her, she set an adjacent amethyst aglow once the emerald came in contact with the purple gem. She drew her hand away as if stung. The harmonics of the scarlet beryl crystal clashed with her life’s rhythms, pulling her into itself, drawing the Aspects from her. She couldn’t breathe. The room swirled, and the floor heaved upward.

Jasal’s Keep. Thunder crashes. She collapses on her hands and knees. Sleet beats down, biting at the back of her neck. Agony from her abdomen pulses with each heartbeat. Blood from the mortal wound rushes thick and hot over her hand. It drips into a grout line in the paving, rain diluting its thickness in the water. She has failed.

White light explodes.

“I’m getting her out of here before she is overcome.” Her father reached down, snatched up the beryl, and began to place its chain over her head.

“No!” She shoved away her father’s hand and the amulet he held. She stepped back from her parents and Lord Garis. “I will not let this happen. Forgive me.”

Mirana flew down the three steps, out of the gathering hall, and into the storm-lashed night.

CHAPTER 15

“But to harken unto Their Will requires a decision I am loath to make.”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

––––––––

Mirana ran through the corridors of the learning hall, as empty and unforgiving as a tomb. She sped across the rain-drenched courtyard and stopped when she reached the hall’s library. Catching her breath, she laid her palms and forehead against the great oak doors. She pulled her mind inward, dissolving her presence into the life around her. She did not want to be found. Ever.

The Aspects Above had shunned her. No saving grace had come from on high, no absolution was granted, no expiation given for the sins she had committed, nor the ones that awaited her. No hope remained, only one last choice.

She pulled back on the iron rings and went through the doors. The smell of dust and age filled her nostrils. Thunder crashed, and she cringed instinctively at the deafening crack. Lightning lashed at the tall stained-glass windows, illuminating in violent bursts the harsh colors of their facets. The intermittent light put the ceiling corbels in stark relief as they hid high up in barrel and groin vaults. The oil lamps flickered in meek imitation of the lightning outside.

She hurried deep into the sepulchral library. Thousands of volumes, parchments, linen scrolls, and preserved hides mouldered away on the shelving, corpses stacked within catacombs of knowledge, as useless and dead to her as cadavers. A few leather-bound books around the cavernous room stood tethered to stands by chains, prisoners of false wisdom. As was she.

Long tables sat before the shelves, great, dark planes of wood like so many altars ready for a sacrifice. Carved under one of those tables were her and Teague’s names. He had cut their glyphs into the wood with his belt knife after she had kissed him for the first time. They were fourteen. She would never taste his kiss again.

“Teague.”

Mirana sank against a heavy wooden chair. All of those memories of their primary lessons together in this place, all those dreams, that first timid kiss—they were lies. They were denials of a self she believed herself to be, only to be destroyed by the person she would become.

She crossed her arms on the leather seat and buried her face in them. Caresses touched her mind, insidious in their insistence, sickening in their supplication. She lifted her head, blinking through rain- and sweat-matted hair. Amulets. Statues of Fal’kin, most of whose names were lost to time, stood in niches and alcoves around the library. Amulets hung from their cold, stone necks and whispered to her now.

She bit back another cry, her chest constricting with the effort. She could choose every one of them. All she had to do was hold one and let it into her being. When she did, though, it would taunt her with its gleaming, a sign of the power she held but could not find a way to safely use.

She sat up and leaned against a statue plinth. She let her head fall back. Jasal Pinal’s carved likeness stood over her, his chest devoid of an amulet. Once, the sculpture had been whole, but for as long as she could remember, great chunks of marble had been missing, leaving little more than a torso, chipped arms, and half a face. Scorch marks blemished the pure white marble. She traced the deep grooves and scratches marring the black onyx pedestal.

Before the statue on a stand sat an unadorned leather-covered book secured by a chain and locked by a simple metal clasp.

“The Codex of Jasal Pinal,” she whispered.

She had read the journal many times. It once was a mischievous pleasure, browsing it with Teague because it was banned from their primary lessons. Later, she studied it, pored through its pages, scrutinized every quill stroke, hoping to find the answers to control her Trine Aspects. Filled with his teachings of the Fal’kin way, his love for his Tash-Hamari wife Antiri, the book also told of the battles he fought against Ilrik the Black and other Ken’nar warlords, and the walls and gates he built to keep Deren safe. Of his keep, however, she had found almost nothing written. The last entries of his journal ended just before the completion of the watchtower. Fear, angst, and emotions far darker lived within his words but no answers.

Mirana pushed herself to feet. As she had done so many times before, she laid her hand on the lock. She reached out to the mechanism with her mind, and the clasp released with an audible click. She gently opened the cover and turned back several blank pages of vellum to Jasal’s first entry.

“‘What mysterious things are the Aspects Above to choose me as their servant,’” she read aloud, her voice shaking. “‘For I can see no talent, no strength real or designed by artifice, no skill in my life that separates me from any other man or woman.’”

And yet, they have chosen me their Trine.

She knew the words by heart. Jasal’s quill strokes were bold, but the sense behind the words was not. The Codex of Jasal Pinal the Great was not a book she merely read, she lived it. Imbued within its pages was the reflection of her ancestor’s presence, echoes of his thoughts and emotions as he wrote the passages. He spoke to her in his pages. Sometimes, she wished he did not.

He had been all but consumed by grief in his last writings. It was there, embedded in his words. Then, at the end of his Codex, his trapped, agonized emotions abruptly disappeared from the pages. No room remained for misinterpretation.

Jasal Pinal had committed suicide.

Wind-driven rain battered the windows, followed by a low rumble of thunder. She shivered in a draft, her clothes and skin damp from the storm and sweat. The sword in the statue’s broken and scarred hands gleamed in the lightning. The mighty blade which defeated the Dark Triumvirate: the Ken’nar defender Ilrik the Black, and the Ken’nar seer and the Ken’nar healer who both fought alongside him. The three once stood, battling as one, as an evil counterpoint to Jasal’s Trine Aspects. Thrice-cursed. Thrice-blessed.

Why would the Aspects Above even call forth someone cursed? It made no sense—unless they were so disgusted with their creation tearing itself apart for more than three thousand summers, they wanted to wipe the land clean of the stain of their Aspected people. Maybe the Thrice-cursed would purge all of creation for the Aspects Above. Maybe the deity was just as ignorant and uncaring as the ocean she once believed her escape. Maybe there simply were no Aspects Above at all. Maybe Lord Garis was right, and prophecies were just meaningless words written by senile old men and women. Or maybe all the evil in Kinderra had been brought about, not by divine vengeance, but by the choices of men. Or of a girl.

Mirana hid her face in her hands. “Why did the Aspects Above choose you as their Trine, only to have you die in failure? What sense is there in that?”

Were the Trine powers too terrible for him to bear? To control? Was ending his own life the only answer to his grief and self-loathing? Why had the Aspects Above brought him to that?

No. Jasal’s failure was not the fault of the Aspects Above. His failure was his own. As was hers. Jasal Pinal was right. This time, answers would be found in something other than books. She slid her back down the pedestal to sit heavily on the floor once more.

Mirana pulled one of the long knives from a scabbard at her waist, the soft, sinister song of its unsheathing reverberated up her arm and across her chest. The blade, the length of two hands, gleamed dully in the torchlight. No ornamentation decorated its steel. It was strictly utilitarian, forged for but one purpose.

She pressed the knife’s edge against the hollow of her throat, the steel cold on her skin. She could not find a way to use her Aspects without destroying Kinderra, so she would make certain they were never released.

The library doors banged open against the stone walls.

“Stop! What do you think you’re doing?” a voice rang through the vast building and her mind.

Tetric Garis rushed past the endless shelves and somber statues, frighteningly agile for a man of his size. Once he reached her, he fell to his knees and tried to pull the knife from her hand.

She struggled in his grip. “Leave me alone!”

“We have no time for these adolescent melodramatics.” He wrestled with her for the blade. “Kinderra is too important. You are too important.”

She refused to release the long knife. “Let me go.”

He dug his thumb into the sinews of her wrist, and the blade fell from her grip. “I know what else it was you saw when we viewed the Ford vision together. The images you tried to hide from me.” ... You saw Jasal’s Keep erupt in light ...

“If you saw it, then you know why this has to be.” She fought him again, grappling for the long knife.

“You will end this nonsense now!” The Trine wrapped his long fingers around her arms, holding her fast. “We must understand the power we both saw unleashed by Jasal’s Keep.”

“What is there to understand? Because of me, our scholaire’e will have to fight at Two Rivers Ford and so many may die. Our troops. They will be decimated because of me.”

He shook his head. “You had no way to know exactly what it was you were seeing in the first vision of Two Rivers Ford.”

She tried once again to pull away from his grip, but his hands were like iron bonds. “You’re wrong. I knew exactly what I saw, what I sensed. I just didn’t want to believe it. I must pay for my crime.”

He released her and sat back on his heels. “Being frightened of one’s powers is not a crime.”

“Withholding the information I saw is.” His hematite amulet hung too close to her. Could she choose it? Right off his neck? Fire it on herself? “Lord Garis, I didn’t want to believe what I sensed. I lied to myself. I allowed myself to believe I was wrong when I knew, deep inside, I was right. Because of my fear and my cowardice, I didn’t tell my parents of the first Ford vision until it was too late. If anyone knew I was a Trine, they would have demanded I choose an amulet immediately. I was trying to save lives by keeping silent. I swear it.”

She deflated against the base of Jasal’s statue, her eyes on his amulet. “If you’ve seen Jasal’s Keep exploding in light, then you know why I cannot choose an amulet. Stop me now before I truly become the Dark Trine. The only way I can save lives now is with my death.”

He shook his head slowly. “You are not the Dark Trine.”

“But the keep—”

“We don’t know what the keep is.” Lord Garis gestured toward a window and the watchtower looming outside. “Ai, there will be losses at the Ford—that is unavoidable regardless of any vision, but if we can find out exactly what Jasal’s Keep is, you won’t have condemned Kinderra. In the end, you will have saved her.”

A bead of grief-wrought sweat trailed down her temple and followed the curve of her jaw to her neck. Its salt stung the cut at the hollow of her throat. “You’re wrong, my lord. Everything is falling apart because of me. You are the Light Trine. It is your duty to save Kinderra from me. Kill me!”

... Mirana— ...

... Kill! ... Me! ...

He grabbed her arms again and pierced through the protective psychic walls she had raised. ... STOP! ... She gasped as his mind stormed through hers. “I need your help as much as you need mine,” he said. “That is why I am here. I told you, I, too, saw the keep and the unimaginable power it contains. That was no nightmarish memory of yours. It was a vision. Your Aspects and mine were together at that moment. It was my vision, too. That keep could end this conflict that has plagued us for three thousand summers. We must understand what all of this means. But, to do that, I need your help.”

“I can’t possibly help you. Or Kinderra. Please, just go. Just. Go.” She buried her face in her hands.

“Mirana, look at me.” He gently pulled her hands down from her face. “Mirana.”

She searched his face, his eyes like windows to the midnight sky.

“The Aspects Above have given both of us this keep vision for a reason. Your ancestor built the watchtower. You must be a key to understanding its power. I am here to help you unlock those secrets. As Trines, we are bound by the same fate to save Kinderra from destroying herself. Only together can we do this. I need you. Kinderra needs you. You need me, too. Do you understand...” he pointed to the knife, “that is not the path for you?”

She would never lie to herself again. She knew she was at the center of all the rage, the pain, the crushing failure, and the suffocating sense thousands had perished.

She was so tired. So very tired of trying to find answers where there were none. She wanted it to be over. All of it. She stared at the long knife on the floor at her feet. “For summers, I’ve searched for a way to prevent myself from becoming the Dark Trine.”

He scowled, more from pity than from confusion. “Do you truly believe that is what you are?”

What else could she be? “Ai. Someday.”

He hung his head for a moment and exhaled. “The Trine powers are blessed and terrible gifts. I know. Since I was a small boy, I, too, have seen unspeakable destruction from my own hands in events that had yet to take place. I can show you how even such a horror as that can be a gift. I can show how it can be used for knowledge, to find a way to stop even more violence. Or why it is necessary to let such damning actions continue for the greater good.”

When she didn’t respond, he frowned. He picked up the knife and set it on the table next to where he knelt. He took her hand and placed her palm on his chest over his heart. “What do you feel?” Her hand trembled beneath his. She did not want to reach out with her Healing gift. She wanted to destroy it.

“Mirana. Reach out to me with your Aspects and tell me what you feel.”

She took a breath. “Your heartbeat. Your life.”

He nodded. “Ai. Every heartbeat, every life, every single one feels like this. Every life note in Kinderra just like this one will be extinguished in this bloody civil war unless we stop it. Unless we can understand the power of Jasal’s Keep and use it to save this land, all of this—” he patted her hand over his heart, “will be gone. Do you understand?”

No. No, she did not understand. How could the salvation of everyone and everything she loved come from her when all she saw was destruction at her hand?

“The Aspects Above confer their gifts upon us, but it is we mortals who make the decision how to use them. You will not destroy anything unless you decide to do so.”

She began to shake again. “I am frightened.”

“I know you are.” He took her other hand and now held them both in each of his. “But I will help you. You no longer have to bear these burdens alone. Not your fear. Not your Trine Aspects. Not the keep. We shall bear them together, and we shall find a way to save Kinderra. Together.”

She could not speak, overcome by the possibility of a fate beyond destruction and death. Her heart banged in her chest. Tetric Garis said she was the key to understanding the keep. Was his belief in her worth risking Kinderra? Risking Teague?

Lord Garis’s amulet glowed softly. It appeared to breathe in ebbs and pulses with a life-light of its own.

“Do you mean it?” she whispered, terrified to believe him.

He gripped her hands tighter, so she could not deny his conviction. ... Fear can make us do terrible things ... And, ai, you made a terrible choice to lie to yourself ... But your heart was pure ... You meant to try and save Kinderra, even by withholding knowledge, even by lying to yourself ... Those are not the actions of an evil one ... Those are the choices of a Trine ... “If there’s even the slightest chance the power in the keep will stop this war, we must find out how. Is that not worth living for?”

The Trine Prophecy came back to her once more. Was Tetric Garis the “hope that remained?” For her?

She drilled her gaze into his eyes. “Swear to me you won’t let me destroy Kinderra.”

“Ai, I swear it. With all my Aspects.”

She rose and stepped over to the Codex. A link opened, and the chain fell away. She clutched the tome to her. “Then let us save Kinderra.”

She and the Trine both turned at the sound of rushing footsteps.

“Mirana!” her father cried, her mother running just behind him. They rushed over and drew her into their arms.

Her mother kissed Mirana’s forehead. “Thank the Aspects.”

“Is she all right?” her father asked Lord Garis.

“I will be,” Mirana answered for the Trine. He retrieved the long knife from the table and held it out to her, his face set like flint. “I will make this right. All of it. Somehow. I promise.”

She sheathed the weapon with a determined thrust of her hand.

CHAPTER 16

“A spent blade must be sharpened or its metal used for a new purpose.”

—The Book of Kinderra

––––––––

Kaarl stood by the window in the prime’s chambers. Dawn cut a faintly brighter swath of sky on the eastern horizon than the darkness above it. Below in the courtyard, Desde gave preliminary orders to the provincial troops. She still wore her light armor and chain mail from the previous evening’s Choosing Ceremony. It glinted in the torchlight as she moved. In another corner, Morgan Jord spoke with a small group of white-uniformed men and women, the defenders of the il’Kin. Yesterday, they had been Kaarl’s to lead. Yesterday, he served as a defender commander. Now, he was Steward of the Quorum of Light.

The role of the Quorum’s steward was full of contradictions, and he hated them all. The Quorum itself comprised all of Kinderra’s primes and seconds, and decided policies affecting the entire continent’s Fal’kin. Its steward, however, was both the most and least powerful person in Kinderra, as far as he was concerned. Ai, he would serve as a proxy voter for absent provincial representatives, and he would also break a deadlock by casting a decisive vote in the rare instance it might occur. That was all well and good.

The steward, however, had no true vote in Quorum proceedings, giving up the needs of his or her province for the greater good of Kinderra. He would continue to direct the il’Kin strike force, but now as a noncombatant tactician, not as a battlefield commander.

He looked at his hands. The cuts and scrapes from the grynwen had healed. While he didn’t bring down every Ken’nar he fought against, more times than not he left them corpses if they dared confront him. Sometimes he did not even leave that much. With no vote of his own, how would he be able to keep Kin-Deren province safe, let alone the rest of Kinderra?

He caught his reflection in the glass of the window, the gray just beginning to silver his black hair, the silver eyes of his infamous ancestor staring back. The Quorum members would never let him remain steward on principle. It stood too close to Jasal Pinal’s dictatorial status as Primus Magne, the sole governing leader over all of Kinderra’s Fal’kin. The whole of the Fal’kinnen would never make that mistake again.

At some point, his transgressions would be found out. When they were, he could lose far more than just his role as steward. The Quorum could expel him from Kin-Deren province. He touched the garnet resting against his chest. He’d be lucky if his expulsion was the only sentence handed down. His amulet could be removed from him. He’d no longer be a Fal’kin, or even a defender. He’d be nothing. He let his hand fall.

The choice was obvious. When the Quorum convened in the autumn, its members would award the permanent steward’s seat to Tetric Garis. As a Trine, Tetric already gave his Aspects in service to all of Kinderra. As steward, the il’Kin would be his to command. In one brilliant move, all that Kaarl spent his lifetime building, serving, and bleeding would be gone. Nothing would stop the man from enfolding the il’Kin’s fighters into his Dar-Azûlan provincial ranks and effectively dissolving the strike force.

If he wished to remain as the leader of the elite unit, he would have to swear allegiance to Tetric Garis. Or he would have to step down from the il’Kin’s ranks. He had no choice but to accept the mantle of stewardship, and maybe even fight to keep it. That was the contradiction he hated the most—to save the il’Kin, he had to leave it.

Kaarl held his sword. He hefted its familiar weight, noting again its exquisite balance. It was a fine instrument, forged true of hard Tash-Hamari steel. The cross guard of its hilt was crafted with two eagle’s heads, the heraldic of Kin-Deren province. Pits and scratches etched the entire length of the blade, every mark delivered by a Ken’nar weapon. The grain of the leather wrapping the scabbard was worn smooth. The thin bands of silver once crisscrossing the sheath had since broken and were missing in places.

Toban had the sword made for him when he passed thirteen summers. It had been a bit too long, a bit too heavy for him then. He had taken it as a compliment that the old seer believed he had enough skill to master it. It had saved his life and the lives of those he protected more times than he could count.

“I know nothing of the way one must mince words just to gain sentences. This is insanity. I am a defender, Toban. A fighter, a warrior. Not a politician.” He shook his head. What would Toban have said if he had called the old man such?

Why in the name of the Aspects Above had Toban Kellis named him his successor?

Privately, he knew the real reason, one he had not wanted to admit to himself. The seer prime knew Kaarl had all but lost the will to fight. Had Desde spoken to her father? After thirty summers of bloodshed, he was nearly beaten inside. The deaths of so many of the il’Kin over the recent summers had allowed hopelessness to creep into his heart. The old seer knew—with his Aspect, maybe he was even certain—Kaarl’s next major campaign could be his last.

He placed the blade on the desk. For as long as he had known Desde’s father, the seer had sat behind its ornately carved wood. He touched the surface, its dark walnut wood, smooth with wax and use. There, on the front panel, was the chip in the wood from the heel of his boot when Toban sat him on the desk’s top to tell him his father had been killed. On the back leg of the chair, just below the mortise-and-tenon joint, was the nick where he flailed with his sword, showing off for the prime. On the far corner was the tiny groove he had made with his fingernail as he stood asking to be joined in union with Desde.

Kaarl had given command of the il’Kin to Morgan, his defender second, elevating him to defender commander. It was time. Perhaps a younger man with a fresh perspective could pull the elite troop back from the brink of extinction. Toban had probably felt the same about giving him the chair of stewardship.

He smiled. “You were always one step ahead of everyone, weren’t you?” He hung his head. How could he even hope to fill the void left by that great man?

He could not. He would not even try. He would have to find his own path. He had wondered not all that long ago how one could avoid one’s destiny. His wife, always so perceptive of his mind, told him he couldn’t, but he could choose how to face it. Toban would not have named him to the post had he not been a capable man, even to save his life. He would strive to honor the man he loved as much as his own father, but he would not imitate him.

A knock interrupted his thoughts.

“I have come—” Tetric Garis began.

“I know why you are here.”

Kaarl remained facing the window, away from the other man. As the Trine crossed the room, his heavy boots echoed unusually loud in the chamber, breaking the early morning’s stillness.

“You’re coming to the Ford?” he asked, hefting Kaarl’s sword. “I thought Defender Jord would be leading—”

“After Mirana’s revelation, we have no idea what to expect now. We may need every defender we have,” Kaarl replied, watching him from the corner of his eye. “I will be deliriously happy if my time is wasted. I intend to strategize a defense with Desde and lend my amulet to the battle seer’s defense group, if it comes to that.”

Tetric set the sword down on the desk, nodding with approval. “Or act as Mirana’s bodyguard.”

Kaarl turned to face him at last and frowned.

“She will be safe with me. It is for the best.”

“Apparently, my wife agrees with you.”

The Trine drew next to him to look through the window down at the courtyard. “Despite the law, even I don’t think Desde would truly consider expelling Mirana.”

He looked at Tetric in alarm. “Expulsion? What are you talking about? Mirana was traumatized by some damn nightmare she believes has her bringing about the end of time. That is why she left the Choosing Ceremony. Being terrified is not a crime.”

The other man’s gaze remained fixed on the courtyard below. “No. But refusing to choose an amulet is. A capital crime your daughter committed most publicly. To say nothing of possibly withholding information. The sentence for refusing an amulet is expulsion from the province, to be killed on sight if she ever steps foot back within Kin-Deren’s borders.” He lifted his face to take in Jasal’s Keep.

He could not think of a single word that would adequately express his hatred of Tetric Garis at that moment.

“I doubt it will come to all that,” the Trine said. “Mirana’s situation is complicated. She is under the age of majority, although Desde’s pronouncement elevating those fifteen and older to Fal’kin does call that into question. And she is now known to be a Trine.” He turned to Kaarl. “I convinced Desde that your daughter’s case should be heard by the Quorum when we meet in the autumn. There is no way your wife, even as a prime, could be impartial in such a situation. Furthermore, we Trines are dedicated to all provinces, so that makes provincial expulsion impractical, if not impossible.”

Kaarl’s eyes widened in disbelief. “We are about to march into war. We don’t know if we will have an assured victory or a massacre. You dare speak of my daughter’s expulsion and possible execution at a time like this?”

“I told you, she will be safe with me.” Tetric raised his palms in apology. “Only I can make Mirana what she must become. You know this.”

“What she must become?” he asked, desperation edging his words. “Aspects Above, man, we’re dragging her to the Ford. The Dark Trine will most certainly be there. He stands too much to lose by not being present.”

“Or gain.”

Kaarl curled his hands into fists, as much to keep them still as to answer the desire to use them. “If she goes to the Ford, that black-hearted Ken’nar bastard will kill her.”

“Desde has given her to me as my scholaira. I will complete her training. She will remain with me until she does choose an amulet.” The Trine placed a hand on his shoulder. “No harm will come to her. I will guard her as if she were my own child.”

“You decided my own child’s future without me?” He looked down at the man’s hand. His gaze slid back to the Trine, who prudently stepped back from his gesture. “Alone? With my wife?” His voice dropped to a menacing growl.

The tall Dar-Azûlan now held his ground, his eyes like shards of black ice. “So you could watch over her while she slept for a few hours. Your wife is prime of Kin-Deren province. She need not consult with anyone regarding her Fal’kin. Even you.”

The tension in his fists spread up his arms and across his chest to settle within his vermilion garnet amulet. “You’ve all but taken my il’Kin from me. Now, you take my only child as well?”

Tetric made no move. “She tried to kill herself.”

Kaarl froze. “Wh-What?”

“I barely had time to save her life.”

“She-She didn’t say a word.” That hairline cut at the hollow of her throat. It hadn’t been a buckle scratch from her armor. “She just fell asleep in my arms. Holding that accursed book of Jasal’s to her like the ragdoll she had when she was a babe. I just thought she was exhausted from the ceremony. I knew the amulets were overpowering her. That’s why I grabbed the nearest one I could reach. I just wanted her to take the damned thing and leave before they drove her into a faint. She didn’t say a word. Not one word.”

A moist, burning sensation seared Kaarl’s eyes. Something wet traveled down his cheek. ... Oh, Miri ... What have I done? ...

He hitched up his shoulder to wipe the dampness away from his face. “Do you believe—” He swallowed his emotions back under control. “Do you believe this nightmare of hers? Is it truly a vision?”

Tetric shrugged and sighed. “I have seen something of it. It is alarming, but I don’t understand it. Yet.”

“Does Desde know? What happened?” he asked. The Trine shook his head. “I’d like to keep this between us.”

“Ëo comprende.”

Kaarl and the Trine both stood silent for a long moment, observing the Fal’kin below out the window.

“The summers have not touched Desde,” the Dar-Azûlan said at last.

He watched his wife in the courtyard. A smile briefly touched his face. Tetric was right. Desde was still a strikingly beautiful woman. He, however, felt older than Toban at the moment. “I know where all those summers went.” His smile faded.

Is that what he had done to Mirana? Driven her to try to take her own life?

Tetric nodded. “I think we both share some of those lost summers.” He turned back to him. “I do not intend for your daughter to stay at the Ford any more than you do. I also understand Desde’s moral and, frankly, legal dilemma. As the prime, she cannot hold back her child while sending others’ children to the Ford when she has made such an order. But with Mirana as a Trine, I’m not sure it’s worth the risk to have the girl at the front even in a support role.”

He wanted to feel relieved, shock, however, still held his emotions captive. “With Mirana as your scholaira, Desde’s effectively taking her out from under her orders.” His wife was just as cagey as her father. That did give him some relief.

The Trine smirked. “We are all painfully aware Mirana does not have an amulet. When was the last time she held a blade, anyway?” Kaarl whipped his head to face him. The tall man squeezed his eyes shut in a wince at his poor choice of words. “She may have to ride with us to the Ford, but I will not have her stay.”

Was she still in her room?

“What if the Dark Trine reaches the Ford ahead of us? My daughter will be trapped.” No, she would be in the stables by now, readying Ashtar for the ride. He told her to take his warhorse. She loved the beast. Ashtar would be as much as a bodyguard as he would be. He’d find another horse to ride.

“I will see to it she makes it out,” Tetric said resolutely. “It is best I do not tell you further about our plans. The fewer people who know of her whereabouts, the safer she is.”

Kaarl dipped his chin in acquiescence. He laid his hand on the crosshatched glass of the window. In front of the great oak door of Jasal’s Keep, Desde addressed the battle seer unit. Its ranks now swelled with the addition of newly elevated Fal’kin.

Jasal’s Keep had protected Deren all those long summers ago, but it could do nothing now to keep his daughter safe. For that, he had no other choice than to release his beloved tiny girl from his protection to that of a man he hated as much as he respected.

“I did not come to discuss Mirana. I have come to ask you again to reconsider my offer.”

“Tetric, please. Not now.”

“We may not get another chance to discuss this. Let us combine our forces. You will be my defender commander. There will be none before you. If we work together, you and I, we could turn the tide of this war.”

He shook his head. “Morgan rides at the head of the il’Kin now, not I.”

“He is a good defender, but he is not you,” Tetric replied. “The Ken’nar are growing. Their army is expanding. They are far better trained and better coordinated than ever before, more than most of the primes realize. I know it and you know it.”

Kaarl frowned and nodded.

“We know because we have not just sat in halls watching visions and discussing hypotheticals,” the Trine continued. “The blood of our defenders, our own blood, has been shed for Kinderra.” He paused, his dark gaze boring into Kaarl. “It is time for this to end. I mean to stop this war, but I cannot without your help.”

His first thought was for Mirana’s safety. If the man had some insane vendetta against the Dark Trine, she could be killed at his side just as surely as at Two Rivers Ford.

When he did not reply, the Trine gestured with his chin to the keep looming in the blue dawn light. “What made Jasal Pinal so great?”

He scowled, confused. “Most do not share your opinion.”

“He bore the title of ‘Jasal the Great’ for summers before he built that tower.”

“He was a Trine. He saved Kinderra by stopping the Dark Triumvirate. He was a good man. A great man. Before that.” He, too, gestured to the tower.

“Ai,” Tetric nodded, “ai, he was all those things. However, his true power lay within the Aspected who served under him. Without them, his greatness would have amounted to next to nothing. They gave Kinderra the first glimpse of peace she had seen since before the Sundering.”

“I understand what you are saying, but too much has passed between us. If you had only asked three summers ago instead of two.”

“I did ask three summers ago, and every summer before and after that skirmish.”

It was no skirmish. The memory of the fight had remained like an open wound in Kaarl’s mind. The Ken’nar had surged across Thyre’s Crossing on the border between Kana-Akün and Trak-Calan, a direction they had least expected. He and the il’Kin had set out to meet them, their forces augmented by some one hundred fighters from Kana-Akün and another hundred from Tash-Hamar. Tetric’s advice, from his very Seeing Aspect, gave them time to form up, but no one expected the Ken’nar to come down in such numbers. Fifteen hundred of them. They had never before appeared in such numbers, usually striking unsuspecting farms and hamlets with mere hundreds, if that. The Trine had held back his forces to cut off any escape the Ken’nar could make back over the crossing. His presence had sent the Ken’nar into a panic. After a brief fight with five hundred of Tetric’s Dar-Azûlan troops, the black-armored bastards broke ranks and made for the Trak-Calan highlands to the north, forcing their mounts to swim the Bherath River. The damage had been done, however. Fifteen il’Kin never breathed again, nor dozens of archers from Kana-Akün. Tash-Hamar took the brunt, with more than half of its defenders cut down.

Kaarl made a small, hopeless laugh. “If we do our jobs at the Ford, we might not even need to unite our forces.”

“That is just the beginning,” Tetric replied. “It will take more than that to save Kinderra. I mean for all of us to unite. It was the only way Jasal could truly stop Ilrik the Black. It is the only way to end the war now.”

For the second time in as many moments, disbelief held Kaarl. One prime. Over all the provinces. “Primus Magne?” He could barely utter the words. “You can’t be serious.”

“We have no other choice.” The Trine lifted his head, gazing back out the window. “I have no other choice.”

He shook his head, aghast. “I couldn’t possibly support you. I couldn’t support anyone. Not even Toban.” He shook his head again. “I’m not sure I could even support Desde if she asked me. We’d find another way.”

The Dar-Azûlan stepped closer. “You would put our disagreements ahead of Kinderra? Ahead of your daughter?”

Kaarl gripped the other man’s arm. “I love Mirana more than life itself.”

“I know you do.” The Trine returned the gesture. ... She will never be safe until this war ends ... I need you ... I need you by my side ... As I said before, the Quorum will listen to you ... Desde will listen to you ... I saved your daughter’s life ... Help me now give her a future ...

He let his arm fall. “Tetric. Primus Magne?”

... I am Trine of Kinderra ... I already safeguard all the provinces ... Becoming Primus Magne merely formalizes it within the Quorum of Light ... I am only asking for your trust ... Is that so difficult? ...

Kaarl stepped back from him and walked over to Desde’s primeship chair. He leaned on it, hanging his head. “It is not a matter of trust. There is nothing the Dark Trine could ever do that would make me believe elevating a Primus Magne and throwing away our Aspect-given right to govern ourselves was the answer. Regardless of our struggles, I have never once doubted your conviction to protect Kinderra.” He raised his head. “Ai, as a Trine, you do give your life in service to all of Kinderra. But I am steward now. It is my duty as well to intercede on behalf of all Fal’kin in interprovincial conflicts. You asked me to work together with you in ending this war. That I will agree to.” He called to his sword and it flew into his hand. He slid it into its sheath with a decisive snap. “As equals.”

Tetric held his gaze a moment, nodded, and turned to leave.

The man had saved his daughter’s life, and all he had asked for in return was trust. Tetric didn’t want his trust, though, not really. He wanted his fealty, he wanted to take away his free will to act on his own terms when necessary. Kaarl’s lips tightened. How could he keep his daughter safe if he were a glorified slave?

Tetric had made a unilateral decision that cost the lives of his il’Kin and so many more, despite the eventual victory it gave the Fal’kin. The man also saved his daughter’s life. He would never count the Trine as a friend, but he owed him as much gratefulness as contempt. “I know it’s not what you want, but my partnership is all I can give you.” ... That, and my undying gratitude ...

The Trine hesitated by the door but did not turn around. “It is a brutal, depraved business, this war. Men and women do things that would be considered the most heinous of crimes in any other context. I have. You have. Things I hope Mirana never has to do.” He opened the door. ... Do not make yourself my enemy, Kaarl Pinal ... I beg of you ...

CHAPTER 17

“Like a storm gathering on the horizon, the Dark Ones advanced. Our swords were sharpened. Our arrows were nocked. But were we ready for battle?”

—The Book of Kinderra

––––––––

The Ain Magne charged his stallion through the rain toward Two Rivers Ford. He ignored the minds of the thousands of riders who surrounded him, allowing instead the images of the bridge complex to fill his mind. Great spans stretched over the Garnath and Anarath Rivers. They would serve as the swiftest way to move a massive fighting force from the north into Kin-Deren province and farther south. Once he controlled the bridges, he would make up any time lost at Falantir. He would then descend on Deren like a maelstrom borne of the Aspects Above themselves.

Another image, however, continued to nudge at his consciousness despite his attempt to focus on the upcoming battle. Mirana Pinal.

Her ability to find a single hidden mind had made him change his initial plan of attack on the Ford to prevent the discovery of his tactics. His Sight now told him, however, his Ken’nar would take heavy losses because Kin-Deren province rode with many more Fal’kin to the Ford instead of the few hundred he originally anticipated.

He gritted his teeth. The reason for the change in their response to his impending attack was obvious: Mirana had seen his plans with her Aspects, correctly interpreted the changes in the skeins of time, and warned Kin-Deren’s leadership.

He had been right to be wary of her interpretation skills, but he hadn’t been wary enough. Now, instead of the glorified skirmish he had been expecting, it would be a long, protracted, bloody battle. The jarring from each hoof strike of his mount clamped his jaws tighter.

He wrapped his presence with a thicker blanket of life-force reflections. Those around him were so intent on staying upright in the mud as they rode, to say nothing of the battle ahead, they would not feel the draw from themselves.

If Mirana forced his hand to change the skeins of time once, he would change them yet again. He still had the element of surprise in his favor and he intended to use it to the fullest.

What if she gleaned this knowledge from the Aspects, too?

The Ain Magne gripped his reins as tightly as he clenched his teeth. His second wanted the Pinal girl dead. He reconsidered the idea once more.

No. She must remain alive. His Aspects had shown him the incomprehensible power of Jasal’s Keep, and she somehow played a role in unlocking its mysteries.

If her oh-so-skilled interpretations were compelling enough to call an entire province to war, he more than needed her alive. He needed to control her, an amulet in human form. He needed to control her to control Jasal’s Keep. He needed her as much as the Ford. Maybe even more.

Mirana did not know him yet, but she would. By the time he was ready to reveal himself to her, she would understand the true gift of the Aspects Above. She would come to understand the Power from Without.

The Ain Magne eased the tension in his body and gave his horse free rein over the sodden ground. The beast was sure-footed, and he held no fear of falling in the treacherous mud.

He grasped his amulet, savoring the way the crystal’s facets slid against his palm, its heat warming his hand.

... Hear me, my second ...

... Ëo hac ... his seer second returned.

... What is your location? ...

... Two days from the Ford, my lord ...

He gripped his amulet tighter at his lieutenant’s answer. His forces would arrive too late at that pace for this next phase.

... What are your orders, Great One? ...

... Prepare for a much larger force ...

... How much larger? ... his second asked, unease edging his mind-words.

... Some two thousand Fal’kin now ride to the Ford ...

... Although our fight will be more difficult, my lord, our victory is still at hand ... I have seen this can only help our ultimate cause ... his seer second returned.

The Ain Magne raised an eyebrow. ... How so? ...

... My lord’s own prescience held the answer ... The Fal’kin were indeed more inclined to take this new bait ... Kin-Deren will now be emptied of her Fal’kin ... Her provincial troops will be squandered at the Ford ... The citadel itself will lie all but defenseless ...

The Ain Magne smiled. The boy was good. The boy was very good.

... You are correct, my second ... Well done ... We still have much to overcome, however ... All must be ready by the time I reach the Ford ...

He called several images in rapid succession to the young seer’s mind. His lieutenant grew silent. The Ain Magne waited for a response and wondered if his servant dropped the connection to his mind.

He began to strengthen his hold on his second’s mind when the seer returned ... I am not certain we can accomplish your orders in time ...

... You must if we are to gain the Ford ... I have every faith in you ... His words were kind, as he meant them to be, but they also contained a note of warning. His second’s mind lingered within his own. ... What is it? ...

... The girl rides to the Ford ... There is a danger with her there ... I have seen this ... She is a danger to our plans ... A danger to you ... The vision of Jasal’s Keep preys on my mind and my Sight ... She should be eliminated ...

... I will deal with her myself ... I have told you before, she is not your concern ...

... We outnumber the Fal’kin excra and yet you have changed our battle plans because of her, now a second time ... You would not think twice to kill one of your own if he or she interfered with your strategy this way, and yet you allow her to live ... Kill her, my lord ...

His servant was correct. However, the young seer, for all his skill, still did not understand what was at stake.

... You will give me Two Rivers Ford ... Mirana Pinal will give me Kinderra ...

... Am I not the one who rides at your vanguard? ... Has not my blood been spilled on your behalf? ... I owe all I am to you, but it is I who will lay Kinderra before you ...

This was an interesting—and unexpected—development. His seer second had begun to view the girl as a rival. This development was as dangerous as it was beneficial. Dangerous, because such jealousies could become destructive. Beneficial, because those destructive jealousies could be used to eliminate problematic situations. If it should come to that.

... I will not remind you again ... She is not your concern ... the Ain Magne called.

... But you are ... I put you before my own family and province ... You and our conquest of Kinderra, they are the only things I live for ... My lord, if you do not want her killed, let me capture her for you ... A sense of feral desire washed through his second’s mind. ... I will ensure she will remain compliant for harvesting ...

... Your only task is to get me the Ford ... The Ain Magne sent a scorching reprimand through the young seer’s mind, nearly breaking their connection. ... Do you understand? ...

... Ai, Great One, ai ... Ëo comprende ... came his second’s reply, faint with pain.

... You will move into position by midnight next ... I will be at the Ford soon ...

The Ain Magne brought his awareness back to himself. The rain now came down in torrents. The horse of a battle seer who rode next to him slid in the mud, nearly throwing its rider. A young defender reached out with lightning-fast reflexes and grabbed the other mount’s reins, steadying the steed and the seer.

“Gratas Oë, Ëi cara. Gratas,” the battle seer stammered, more than aware that, had she fallen, the surging horses behind her would have likely trampled her to death.

He smiled, noting the exchange. The defender showed promise despite his youth. For many, many summers now, the Ain Magne had captured Fal’kin fighters, or cornered disloyal Ken’nar, and obliterated their wills with his powers to make them more perfect warriors. It was painful, as much for the victims as it was for him. He sensed their agony through that same Aspect he used to cause their pain. He hated it, but it was necessary, for nothing great could be accomplished without sacrifice. Only when he had enough Ken’nar to quell any Fal’kin resistance would Kinderra finally be at peace. There was no agony he would not endure to see that accomplished.

The thousands who rode with him now. How many would see the dawn two days hence? What good had killing ever done the land? Death was the ultimate failure. Once dead, beings cherished by the Aspects Above, along with their sacred gifts, were gone forever. Not only did his harvested warriors still live, but they also ceased fighting against him and now obeyed his commands without question. Most important, though—even imperative to his plans—they continued to use their Aspects in service to Kinderra.

He would make certain the young defender’s Aspect would continue to serve Kinderra.

The Ain Magne surged his stallion forward.

CHAPTER 18

“Aspecta il’Defende dam forte. Aspecta il’Sanarente dam ain. Aspecta il’ Vidë ísi magne ken tuda fár Ida dam comprende.”

(“The Aspect of Defense gives strength. The Aspect of Healing gives wholeness. The Aspect of Sight, however, is the greatest of all powers for it gives knowledge.”)

—Ora Fal’kinnen 38:5–7

––––––––

Thank the Aspects.

Her mother finally called for them to camp for the night. The torrential downpours had made the blistering ride to Two Rivers Ford all the more exhausting.

Mirana reined in her horse Ashtar, slowing him to a trot. Her father insisted she ride his enormous warhorse even though she could barely straddle the chestnut destrier’s back. Tetric coaxed his mount to a walk beside her as the two thousand Fal’kin from Kin-Deren province around her brought their steeds to a halt.

She swung her leg over Ashtar’s back, grimacing. Dismounting after days in the saddle was painful. Her boots sank in the mud. She grimaced again. Standing was even more so.

She wiped the muck and water from her face. Sixthmonth had come, but the spring rains refused to yield to the summer sun. Her mother had set a grueling pace despite the saturated ground. At least they would be at the Ford garrison in just two more days. She paused in untying her saddlebag. Then again, maybe that wasn’t such a good thing, after all.

Lord Garis removed his helmet and set it down where he would make camp, clawing his fingers through his dark hair. He had no mud on his face. She frowned. Many Fal’kin wore helmets. Her father, however, hated them. He had worn one when he fought as part of the provincial forces, and the moment he became an il’Kin, he never wore one again. He had said it was hard enough to see straight ahead with one on, let alone use peripheral vision. He had said he believed his Aspect and his eyes were more than enough to keep his head on his shoulders.

Her frowned deepened. She’d know soon enough if he was right.

She unpacked a goatskin tent and shook it out. It had taken her days to figure out how to erect the sad little thing. It was more mud than leather by now, and it had a few extra holes in it from misplaced anchor spikes. Still, it was better than sleeping in the rain. Maybe.

She glanced at the Trine. How in Kinderra would he fit within such a small shelter like hers when she could barely stretch out her own legs?

“Mirana, your horse,” Lord Garis directed her as he removed the packs from his own mount.

She frowned and nodded. She let the tent fall into the sludge once more and uncinched Ashtar’s saddle.

She watched Lord Garis as he finished settling his stallion for the night. He had been strangely quiet for some time. Not quiet, really, but distant, like he wasn’t even there.

“Idiot,” she muttered, chastising herself. Of course, he was distant. He was under U’Nehíl. He didn’t need to exactly advertise to the Ken’nar warlord that he was approaching. Had she not been riding next to him, she would have never known he was there.

He had hardly spoken two words since they had set out from Deren. She bit her lip. Was he having second thoughts about taking her as his scholaira? She had quite literally turned away from her duty. She had nearly turned away from everything. Was he having second thoughts about her, period?

Ashtar’s heavy saddle slipped from her wet hands into the mire, and the Trine gave her a disapproving look. She answered with a wan smile of apology.

Lightning illuminated the clouds clinging to the backbone of the Dar-Anar Mountains far to the west. The wind picked up in answer, driving the rain into the tents.

Mirana shook her sopped hair out of her eyes as she fed Ashtar from a small feed bag from her pack. The grain looked more like gruel. Like her own dinner, come to think of it. By the Light, what she wouldn’t do for some of Quartermaster Haarlen’s roast chicken right now.

Lord Garis solved his shelter problem by spreading his cloak over his horse’s back and securing the ends to the edges of the standard-issue tent with leather ties at the corners. While not exactly roomy, it was adequate for his stature.

A Kin-Deren red eagle within a gold circle proudly emblazoned the tent. She scowled. What happened to his tent?

“I gave it to one of my defenders after a campaign. He was dying. We couldn’t take him with us,” he said over his shoulder.

For some reason, that surprised her. She couldn’t picture the stoic man so caring. “You couldn’t heal him?”

He paused as he made camp. “Not all can be saved.”

A cloudburst decided at that moment to empty itself upon her, drenching her and all but submerging her tent in the mud. Would it still be raining this hard when the Ken’nar attacked? Then again, the Ken’nar would have to fight in this deluge, too. Why wasn’t that the least bit comforting?

As she set up the tent, she pulled deeper inward, where far more fearful concerns than the rain dwelt. Whether five hundred or five thousand Ken’nar ultimately attacked the Fal’kin at Two Rivers Ford, all the visions of the battle carried with them the unmistakable sense of peril. Specific. Hard. Real. Her parents would be stationed in the command tent. It might be located away from the battlefront, but no greater target existed.

“Do the Ken’nar strike first at the battle seer group or the command tent?” she asked the Trine.

Within his tent, he pulled a whetstone from his belt and began sharpening his longsword. The shelter’s opening faced perpendicular to the gale-driven storm. She frowned and reoriented her tent.

“That is a very good question. What would you do?”

How could he even ask such a question? Wasn’t the man starving? Wasn’t he even tired? What would she do? Not envision herself as a warlord is what she would do. She threw a saddlebag into her water-logged shelter. Couldn’t he wait until later to fiddle with that ungodly long blade of his? It was an unsettling reminder that she, too, would be using her long knives soon. The last thing she needed was to imagine herself at the head of some marauding army.

She unfolded her bedroll and plopped down. Water and mud trickled in through a tear in the tent and struck her the face. Irritated by more than the leak, she swiped it away. “I don’t know.”

“Think, Mirana.”

She had had her fill of water-logged grain meal. She pulled some hardtack—well, now soft tack—from her saddlebag and took a bite. “I would destroy the battle seer group.”

“Interesting. Why?”

She clenched her jaw. She did not want to discuss this.

“Why?” he asked again.

“Without the battle seers, you can’t predict enemy troop movements easily. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” she answered, irritation clipping her words.

“And?”

And? What did he mean, “and”? “And without those in the command tent, coordination might suffer, but the battle seers can still call the attack directly to the legion commanders.”

“Very good. Furthermore, if the attacking forces are any good, both targets will be eliminated at the same time.”

The waybread stuck in her throat as she imagined her parents’ bloody bodies splayed on the ground. At least she hoped it was an imagining.

She loosened the ties of her belt pouch and touched her pendant. The mica warmed her fingertips. Teague.

She glanced at Lord Garis. He was examining the cross guard of his sword. She quickly fished out the delicate gift and slipped it over her head, tucking it under her soggy linen shirt.

“The Ken’nar don’t kill herbsfolk, do they?”

He drew his sharpening stone down to his sword’s edge and shrugged. “Sometimes.”

She threw him an angry glance. “You do not always have to be so honest, Lord Trine.”

He made a sound like a chuckle. She could not hear it fully over the sound of the storm. She didn’t think the Trine was capable of laughing.

“Your parents have fought in many battles.”

“My mother hasn’t. Not for a long time.” Her glare turned into an intent plea. ... What if I’m right, Lord Garis? ... What if the Ken’nar Dark Trine attacks with the five thousand I saw? ... How can we fight against that? ...

... Maybe fighting isn’t the best strategy in that case ...

She scowled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

... Think ... What would you do in the face of such superior numbers? ...

“I’m sorry I asked.” She turned her back to him and pretended to fuss with her bedroll.

... I want an answer from you ...

She whirled around to face him. “Can we please talk about something else? I should have never brought this up,” she added under her breath.

He gave a heavy sigh. That, she clearly heard. ... You are a Trine ... Someday, all of Kinderra will look to you for answers ...

The memory of thousands of Ken’nar cutting down the Fal’kin at the Ford flew up in her mind. “If they attack with a force truly that large, we will have to retreat.”

“Back to Deren.”

“No. South. Sün-Kasal.”

He frowned. “You would surrender the Ford and leave Deren defenseless if you went south to Sün-Kasal.”

She shrugged and returned her half-eaten hardtack to her pack. She no longer had an appetite. “Not for long.”

“Go on.” He looked down the length of his sword then sheathed it.

She glared at him and gave him a frustrated sigh of her own. “Our two thousand with Sün-Kasal’s five thousand? It’s the Ken’nar who would be outnumbered. We would return and take back the Ford. We’re not just going to give it up to them forever.”

He blinked and was silent for a long moment. “There are good retreats and bad retreats. That would be a good one.”

Surprise from his mind leaked to hers, then disappeared into pride. Pride? He was proud of her? She smiled. “Or a bad one. If you’re a Ken’nar.”

A series of shouts rose from the camp, startling the horses. In one lightning-fast movement, Lord Garis flew from his tent, grabbed his longsword, and put himself between her and the disturbance. His blade seemed to clear its sheath before the sound of its drawing rang.

“What? What is it?” Mirana asked as she dashed from her tent to stand behind him.

Had the Ken’nar already begun their attack? From their location in the middle of the camp, she could not see what had happened, nor had she sensed anything. Lord Garis did not answer her immediately. He held out his free hand, protective of her, while he watched and listened.

He made a low noise of disapproval and shoved his sword back into its scabbard. “One of the horses was not pleased about something.” He turned to her. “Get some rest. Your mother will not keep us here long.”

She searched the camp for the disturbance once more but sensed nothing other than a slight warming of Teague’s pendant against her skin. She crawled back into the tent. The Trine had pulled a corner of his shelter down and had slipped behind U’Nehíl once more. She shook her head and huddled, shivering, in her saddle blanket. She sat within a camp of two thousand men and women, and never felt so alone.

Lord Garis was right about their stay.

Mirana closed her eyes on the murky, rain-soaked night until he awakened her far too soon to another murky, rain-soaked dawn. She wasn’t sure she had slept at all. Moments later, they and the Fal’kin army were off.

The gray day deepened into an even grayer evening when she finally heard the rushing of rivers rising above the drumming hoofbeats. It was a comforting and thoroughly incongruous sound to the noise of the fighting that would soon take place.

Somewhere in the gloom the swift Garnath River and the wide Anarath River flowed out of the Dar-Anar Mountains. They bisected the apex of the landmass that made up Kin-Deren province’s far western border like a wedge of Quartermaster Haarlen’s meat pie. Her stomach growled at the thought.

The stone bridges of Two Rivers Ford itself were barely visible in the dank evening, but what she could see made her jaw drop. No image passed to her from seers did them justice. An enormous span arched across each river, upheld by massive buttresses sunk deep into the rock walls of the river gorges. One to the north over the Garnath River connected Varn-Erdal to Kin-Deren. The other, to the south, stood over the Anarath River, linking Kin-Deren to Sün-Kasal.

Her primary lessons said bridges were ancient, built before the Sundering, before there even were Fal’kin and Ken’nar. Were they too old? She bit her lip. When was the last time they had supported this many riders at once? A warning drifted through her mind, soft like the sound of running water, though it was not at all soothing. Was it one of her Aspects whispering to her, or just plain anxiety? She shook her head. She had been riding for too long.

Farther in the distance, she spied pinpoints of light. The Ford garrison. It was only a collection of sod and wooden buildings and semi-permanent tents to house the troops that guarded the Ford, but she nearly wept with relief. To bed down in a bunkhouse after unending days in a leaky tent would be like sleeping in the arms of the Aspects Above themselves.

Mirana followed Lord Garis, letting Ashtar pick his way down into the shallow valley of the Ford, to what she assumed was the command tent. Its wide canvas walls and pitched oilcloth roof were lit by tall torches at its entrance—and indistinguishable from any of the other tents. She smiled tightly. That was probably the idea.

Horses were already tethered outside. Her parents and some of the other senior Fal’kin must have arrived ahead of them. She hissed as she clambered off her horse and grabbed a stirrup to steady herself.

Seeing her grimace, Lord Garis asked, “When was the last time you rode a horse?”

“I ride all the time, my lord. Just never this far. Or this fast.” She stretched painfully. “Or on such a gigantic beast.”

His mouth thinned with a frown. “Help me see to the horses.” He hefted the saddlebags from Ashtar’s back and gave them to her. “Your horse must always come ahead of your own comfort. It is more than just a means of transportation; it is your companion, your defender, and ai, even your food or shelter.”

“Food and shelt—” Mirana sucked in a breath as the Trine called to her mind a bleak notion of a snow-swept plain filled with wounded fighters, some staying alive by the only means possible. She eyed Ashtar, his ruddy coat glistening in the garrison torchlight, wet with flecks of foamy sweat from the demanding ride. She would rather starve before killing such a magnificent animal.

The tall Dar-Azûlan took the bags from his horse and draped them over her shoulder. She took a step toward the tent when she stumbled in the mud under all the weight. Then the mud disappeared.

The garrison at Two Rivers Ford. The undulating mass of the Dar-Anars looms in the distance, darker than the night. Shapes move in the blackness. Lightning flashes. A feral cry sounds in the gloom, gibbering yelps from mouths searching for blood. Grynwen. The sound of hoofbeats drums above the thunder. Lightning flares, revealing Ken’nar. They disappear in the darkness. The pounding of steeds remains. The Fal’kin charge to meet the Ken’nar. Men and women fall to the gnashing teeth. Amulets fire. The stench of burned flesh rises in the air, heedless of the storm. Swords clash. Cries of agony split the night. Terrified horses scream. The Fal’kin are pushed toward the southern stone bridge of the Ford. Defenders from both armies fall shrieking into the raging waters a hundred feet below.

Her legs gave out and she collapsed in the muck, the saddlebags spilling some of their contents.

Lord Garis hauled her to her feet. He shook his head angrily. “If you cannot even bear a ride, how do you expect to fight someday?”

He stood over her, glowering down at her. Was he the tallest man in Kinderra?

“My lord, I think—” She staggered back and dropped down again into the sodden earth. Teague’s pendant lay hot against her skin.

Fighting spills onto the fields near the southern bridge egress. Grynwen snap at each other, fighting for the flesh of fallen Fal’kin who have yet to die. Lightning. Blood coats their muzzles. Blood soaks armor. Blood sprays skin, faces. The sickening, coppery, sweet taste.

“Mirana?”

An eerie keening sings above the howls of the grynwen. Peculiar whistles shriek overhead.

“Mirana? Have you seen something?” the Trine asked as he crouched down. “Answer me.”

“The Ford will—”

The Fal’kin fighters in the rear guard of the forces turn their heads southward. And die.

Her breaths came in pants. What she was seeing? When was she seeing? Arrows? From the south? That couldn’t be right. Every vision—hers and the other seers, even Tetric Garis’s—had always shown the Ken’nar attacking the Ford from the north. What had just happened?

The Trine’s presence permeated her mind, cutting her off from her Seeing Aspect. ... Mirana, come back to me ... “What did you see?”

“The Ford. I saw the Ford again,” she gasped. “Only, this time, I saw arrows. From behind us.”

The command tent entrance flew open. “Mirana?” Her father rushed over to her, followed by her mother. Together they helped her up.

Her father laid his hand on Lord Garis’s forearm and stared at him intently, apparently calling something private.

“She refuses to leave.” He pulled his arm out from under her father’s hand. “It appears she has quite a will of her own. I wonder from whom she gets it?”

“What happened?” her mother asked. “Is she all right?”

Mirana took a slow breath to calm her racing heart, ignoring the question. “Has our intelligence changed at all?” she asked instead.

“I thought we had an agreement, Garis,” her father said.

She wiped some of the mud from her face. Agreement? What agreement? “Father?”

The Trine held his hands out at his sides. “What would you have me do?”

“The Ken’nar battle plan remains unchanged, although we see our troops shifting locations,” her mother answered Mirana, but her eyes remained on the men.

“She cannot remain here.” Her father’s voice held less acid but remained just as emphatic.

“Kaarl, I don’t like it any more than you do, but I need her. I need her insight,” her mother said.

He gave the Trine a piercing glare.

Lord Garis’s gaze was just as pointed. “I have not betrayed your trust. What must be done will be done.”

Her father’s jaw tightened, and he nodded brusquely.

“I need to speak with you and Mother,” she said. “Now. I saw arrows.”

Her mother nodded. “As have we.”

“From the south.”

Her parents and Lord Garis grew quiet.

“I saw something. Just now. The vision proceeds as we have seen it these past sevendays. Five hundred come from the north. But then a hail of arrows comes from the south. Many arrows. And grynwen.” She held her mother’s hand and called to her mind the images.

After a moment, Desde squeezed her hand and nodded. “I was hoping to stop them from advancing off the Garnath bridge, but now we might have two fronts to worry about.” She covered her mouth, then her hand slipped to tug at her lower lip. “Forces from Varn-Erdal are expected tonight as well. Could the arrows be theirs?”

“No,” Mirana replied. “We fall before those arrows.”

“Ashtar can drink a waterskin dry by himself. Take the brute to the well,” her father said and placed a hand on her shoulder. ... Leave his place ... Now ... She blinked at the intensity of his call. ... Ride south and follow the river ... Do not stop until you are within Deren’s gates ... Do you understand? ...

... I can’t leave ... If the Ford falls, it’s my fault ...

“Biraena,” her father cautioned.

“Mirana, did I not just remind you of the importance of caring for the horses?” Lord Garis said. “Listen to your father and go.” He enunciated each word. “Now.”

She picked up one of the waterskins from the mud. “What is your horse’s name, my lord?”

The Trine scowled. “What?” He shook his head. “He has no name. He answers to a call within the Aspects. Why?” He looked at her father, then back to her. He picked up the other waterskin and brushed her hand as he gave it to her. ... I said leave ...

“I wanted to call him something when I watered him.” She slung the skins over her shoulder. “I will be right back.”

She was not leaving the Ford no matter how much her father and Lord Garis wanted her to. If she could see some minor movement of the Ken’nar forces, sense some scrap of information, she had to try to give the Fal’kin any advantage she could. She would never make the mistake of silence again. And she did have her long knives.

CHAPTER 19

“To see the skeins of the future is a gift of the most terrible kind. In my heart, I long for blindness. But one cannot embrace both ignorance and knowledge.”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

––––––––

Thunder rumbled in the distance as Mirana walked Ashtar to the garrison’s well. They had outridden the storm, but it now caught up to them. The horse trotted over to the well and slurped at the water, his nose nearly submerged.

If only she had believed her first viewing of the attack on Two Rivers Ford, in which she had seen some five thousand Ken’nar descending on the unsuspecting outpost, they would have had at least some time to gather Fal’kin from neighboring provinces. Surely, some would have arrived at the Ford in time. Anything would have helped. Lord Garis’s reassurances may have saved her life, but they did nothing to resolve her guilt. It preyed on her like grynwen on a blooded deer, relentless and unyielding.

Lightning forked overhead, its glare reflected in the water, looking all too much like the white light that flared from Jasal’s Keep.

Her hand drifted to one of her long knives.

“Lord Garis needs my help to understand Jasal’s Keep, Ashtar. He said it might be able to stop this war.” She gripped the knife’s hilt a moment longer, then released it.

“No. I will not leave. I will make this right.” She clenched her fists. For the first time in a long, long time she hoped her Seeing Aspect would give her the most graphic vision she was capable of receiving. Teague’s pendant warmed against her skin. She wanted to know every step, every hoof fall the Ken’nar were making. Right. Now.

As she dipped a waterskin into the trough, the well disappeared from her mortal eyes.

“Mirana! Go! Now—!”

Teague cries out in pain. His body collapses, lifeless, on the stone pavers. The blood from the wound in his side leaks out in slow pulses, trickles from his mouth, a red so dark it looks like a liquid bruise. It congeals in the icy rain.

“Teague!”

Lightning crashes overhead. The pinnacle of Jasal’s Keep, a crowned skull in the garish light.

Light explodes, more brilliant than the inside of a thunderbolt.

Mirana sucked in her breath. No. Not this. Anything but this.

Teague approached the well with a pair of waterskins. He stopped and stood still, his eyes wide.

She blinked. Was he part of the vision or was he real?

He dropped the skins with a cry of relief, ran to her, and enveloped her in his arms. “Miri! I’ve looked everywhere for you. After you ran out of the Choosing Ceremony, I tried to see you, but they wouldn’t let me. Even my parents wouldn’t tell me what happened to you. I’ve looked for you every day and night since.” He stood back and held her face in his hands. “Are you all right?”

No. No, she was not all right. She didn’t think she’d ever be all right again. The sense of his peril had been present for sevendays but undefined. Now, her Aspects had given her a vision to make her fear concrete.

“Ai. I’m—” She took another breath, stifling the stronger emotions that threatened to break free. “Ai.”

He still hadn’t released her. “You don’t look it. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Not Teague. If the Aspects Above refused to alter her destiny, could they not, in their infinite grace, spare his life at least?

She gently lowered his hands from her face. “I was with Lord Garis and—what happened to your chest?” She pointed to an angry purple contusion shaped like a horseshoe.

“It’s just a bruise,” he said and shook his head to dismiss her concern. “Listen, Mirana—”

She squinted at the bruise. “Were you the commotion in the camp the other night?”

“Ai, I guess. My horse—your mother gave me your brepaithe’s palfrey, Bankin—she doesn’t like to be approached from behind.” He fished her waterskin from the well and set it down on the ground. “Mirana, we still have time—”

“No horse does.” Those were the words that came from her mouth because she could not speak the words her Aspects demanded she say. A trace of blood had dried by his nose. He was soaked, dirty, maimed, and he never looked so perfect to her. How could she possibly live without him? “By the Light, Teague you could have been killed! You could have broken your neck, you could have been trampled, or—”

“Mirana, listen to me. Please.” He glanced over his shoulder. “There’s still time. We can leave. Together. Before the Ken’nar arrive.”

Oh, Aspects Above, no. He was willing to forsake his duty as an herbsman for her. She was destroying his life without lifting a finger. If she left with him, if he remained with her, he would die.

She shook her head. “No, Teague. I can’t leave. But you should. I had hoped your parents would have talked some sense into you and you would have stayed home.”

His shoulders fell and he snatched up one of his waterskins. “I’m not leaving without you. If you’re staying—” he dredged it through the trough to fill it, “then I am, too.”

Mirana gritted her teeth at his referred pain as he hefted the heavy skin and set it on the ground. She ached to hold him and take away his pain, to feel the warmth of his body next to hers. She longed for his kiss, to let into her mind the love he held in his.

“You’re in pain.” She reached out to him. Frustration. Desire. Longing. Hope. Anxiety. Pain. Of the body. Of the heart. Love. His emotions. And hers.

Teague took her hand from his chest and held it. “I know what you said at the Choosing Ceremony. About us not being together anymore. I know you didn’t mean it.”

She would not let Teague die. “I’m sorry. It has to be.”

“I know you don’t mean that.”

“All of Kin-Deren province knows I am a Trine now. Soon, so will all of Kinderra. Including the Ken’nar. Even without an amulet, everything has changed.”

He took her other hand, held them both. “Maybe so, but I know nothing has changed between us. We haven’t changed.”

To keep him safe, she would have to let him go. If she did not, he would be swept up in the maelstrom of her destiny. He could die. She knew it. She saw it.

“Lord Garis is my patrua and my prime. I ride with him and the Dar-Azûlans now.” She pulled her hands from his. “I don’t want it to be like this. It has to be.”

Teague would want to come with her and Trine. Even if she eluded him and left him behind, he would try to follow her. Pushing him away would save his life, but in doing so, she would lose a part of hers. The part that mattered most. His life was worth denying her love. It was worth her own life. It was worth everything.

“Why? Because of your keep vision?” He plunged his other skin into the water. “I’m here now, Mirana. I’m living, breathing. I’m not some vision. I’m not some person who doesn’t exist yet, and neither are you.” He threw the skin down. “We are here, in this moment, not in a nightmare that might never happen. I’ve done everything I can to help you, and I’d do it all again a thousand times over, but you’re the one who’s letting your visions come between us. Not me.”

Ai. He was right. She was. She had to.

“It’s not some childish nightmare. You know that.”

He threw his arms out at his sides. “What is there to see? Rain? Armies fighting? A white light?”

“There’s more to it than that.” She was afraid speaking any more words would make them true.

“You become the Dark Trine? That’s utterly ridiculous!” He then exhaled, calming himself. “If you see something that horrific, then let me help you. The Aspects Above may have ignored me with their gifts, but I want Kinderra’s peace as much as you do. I want to fight for it alongside you.”

She shook her head, dismissing his foolhardy notion. “You’re Unaspected and training as an herbsman. You cannot take up a sword. Unaspected do not fight, and certainly not herbsfolk. The Unaspected have never fought. We Fal’kin exist so you can exist.”

He tried to draw her back into his embrace, but she leaned back from him. Again, a crushing blow from his heart leaped from his mind to hers. He let his arms fall heavily to his sides. “I don’t care about any of that. I care about you. You are the only thing I care about. You’re going to have to make a choice, Mirana. Do you want to believe in some vision that hasn’t happened yet and may never happen? Or the reality of me standing here, in front of you, now?”

She searched his forest-green eyes for some other answer, any other answer. The Seeing Aspect, however, had already given her one. The only answer. To keep Teague alive, she would have to shatter his heart.

“We cannot be together. I am Aspected, Teague. I am a Trine.” She clenched her teeth, catching her tongue, and tasted blood. “And you are not.”

His shock slammed into her mind like a fist of stone. “Y-You said that never mattered to you. You’ve told me that our whole lives.”

“It matters now,” she said, her voice constricted by the emotion she fought to contain. “We’ve always known this. We’ve just been lying to ourselves. I can’t lie anymore.”

Disbelief flooded away his shock, drowning her. “Mirana, please. Don’t do this.”

Searing loss burned through him into her. “Ben íre, Teague.”

He stood motionless for a moment. Something disappeared from his eyes, leaving them hollow, almost dead. He backed away from her, hefted his waterskins, and returned to the camp.

Mirana sank to her knees against the well and pulled out his pendant. She held it to her lips. A sob erupted from her so deep, so broken, it made no noise. No mortal grief could give voice to it.

Tears streamed down her face and dripped from her chin to the delicate mica sheets. They beaded like droplets of rain on the smooth surface.

“Oë tuda a Ëa.” She clutched the pendant to her heart. He was everything to her. Her body spasmed, forcing the cries from her throat. She clutched Teague’s pendant tighter, its crystalline sheets of mica growing hot against her skin. She had destroyed his love for her, the one thing above all else she was trying to save.

“Damn you, Tetric Garis. Why didn’t you leave the knife in my hand?”

Mirana rubbed her chest. It ached just below her peda blossom pendant. Everything ached.

The sound of thunder came closer. A breath of warm, wet wind came from the south, unfurling the pennant flags atop the Ford tents. It brought with it the smell of rain.

South. South was bad.

She wiped her cheek with the heel of her hand. Her breath shuddered as a warning sense fought for her attention over her anguish. She grabbed the sides of the well and hauled herself to her feet. Teague had disappeared into the camp toward the south. He should not go south.

She looked down at the delicate mica pendant in her hand. It burned her palm, turning it red. The mica sheets. Were the flawed crystal plates working as a crude amulet?

The Ken’nar were to attack the garrison at Two Rivers Ford from the north, crossing the Garnath River bridge just before dawn. That future skein, that direction, had never wavered—not in the seers’ visions, not in hers.

Her mind snapped back to what she saw while unpacking Ashtar upon first arriving at the garrison. The arrows and the grynwen. They had come from the south. She whipped her head around to the west, facing the Dar-Anar Mountains. The star Gabrial. It hadn’t been visible in the night sky in those images. It was not yet dawn.

“No. It can’t be. Not yet.”

She peered at the darkening fields outside of the garrison.

A detachment of Ken’nar, thousands strong, would approach, not from the north—but from the south. The larger force. They were coming. Not at dawn.

Now.

Mirana vaulted onto Ashtar’s back and raced for the command tent at a dead run.

CHAPTER 20

“Derranen fissura crear fár doma u’daingaen.”

(“A split foundation makes for an unstable house.”)

—Ora Fal’kinnen 22:2

––––––––

“The Ken’nar. They’re coming now. From the south.” Mirana dashed through the entrance of the command tent. “The Ken’nar are coming now.”

Her parents, Tetric Garis, and the other senior Fal’kin looked up from a large map draped over two saddles.

Her mother rushed over and steadied her with a hand on her arm. “Slow down. What do you mean ‘now?’”

“Thousands are on the move. Five—” she gulped a breath, “five thousand. They’re riding up from the south right now. The other five hundred—”

“Will come from the north, as in our vision,” her mother said. Her face went white. “Tetric?”

“I was just about to inform you I sensed an impression that the Ken’nar might be changing their timetable. Your daughter is most perceptive.”

If the situation wasn’t so urgent, Mirana would have hugged the man for corroborating what she had just seen. “Mother, we don’t have much time.” She thought back to Lord Garis’s earlier question on superior forces and inferior odds. “Maybe we should consider a retreat.”

Desde turned to the other Fal’kin. “We cannot fight a force that large. Mirana’s right. We will have to retreat. We must prevent the northern phalanx from merging with the larger force. If they do, even the Aspects Above will not be able to save us. Tell the commanders to deploy their units to the Garnath bridge. Have the garrison troops form a perimeter on the ridge to safeguard our retreat. Go now.” Men and women ran from the tent to carry out her orders.

Her mother turned back to her. “How soon will the Ken’nar be here?”

“I couldn’t be certain, but soon.”

Lord Garis closed his eyes briefly as he held his amulet. “Within the hour.”

“There’s no time to waste.” Her father pointed out the tent. “Garis, get her out of here.”

Her mother shook her head. “She can’t leave now. She’ll run right into them.”

“She can head east back to Deren if she leaves now ahead of them. Mirana, go.”

“No, Father. I will stay with Mother in the command tent and help relay communications to and from the battle seer unit. I can do that much.”

“If you will not listen to your father, you will listen to me. I am your patrua now,” the Trine demanded. “Leave. Immediately.” His mind speared into hers. ... Follow the Anarath south ... I will meet you by the trader’s ferries near the Stairs of Anar rapids ...

She winced at the sudden communication. “But—”

... Do not stop until you reach the ferries ... I will meet you there ...

Her mother closed her eyes and gripped her amulet, turning away from the group for a moment. “The battle seers say the northern phalanx is less than five leagues away.” Mirana had never seen her so strong and so helpless at the same time. “Gather the il’Kin. They can guard our backs. We need to leave while we still can.”

Her father gripped the hilt of his sword. “And sacrifice the Ford? Desde—”

Her mother’s shoulders fell. “Kaarl, we can’t possibly repel a force of that size. We’ll regroup. Return. We’ll get fighters from Sün-Kasal, Tash-Hamar, even Jad-Anüna in the east. It’s about time Defender Prime Nambre Dinir remembered Kinderra survives on mutual aid.”

Mirana heard her father’s curse with her ears and her Aspects. He gave an explosive exhale and nodded. “I’ll call Dav and tell him to begin moving the provincials eastward out of the Ford. Keep another two units to hold back the northern Ken’nar phalanx until the garrison has been evacuated.”

“You’ll never make it out of the river valley,” Lord Garis said. “The Ken’nar were lying in wait. You lost the advantage of a retreat the moment you arrived. The southern phalanx will block any escape route eastward the minute they cross the Anarath bridge. You have no choice but to fight, my prime.”

No retreat? Mirana’s breath stilled in her chest. They were trapped.

Her mother lifted her chin. “Kaarl’s plan is sound. We can at least try for one.”

Her mother’s topaz flared in her hand as Mirana overheard her urgent orders called to the minds of the provincial defenders.

The command tent flap flew open. Morgan Jord and Binthe Lima rushed in, followed by the Healers Tennen and Niah.

Teague? Where was Teague? Had he left the garrison, crushed by her words? Oh, Lights. He’d ride right into them and never know they were coming until it was too late. She started to ask the healers about him, but Morgan’s hand on her shoulder interrupted her.

“Steward Pinal. The battle seers say Ken’nar are coming from the north and the south.”

Lord Garis turned to the healers. “Tennen, Niah, move up into the foothills, out of the way of action.”

“How will you bring us the wounded if the Ken’nar take the southern bridge?” Healer Niah asked.

“The battlefield will be too dangerous to heal during the conflict. If you leave now, you might be able to make it across ahead of the southern Ken’nar unit. Hurry. You have no time to waste,” the Trine replied. The healers nodded and dashed from the tent. He then turned to the il’Kin. “Defender Commander Jord, have the il’Kin guard the healers. You will be the only protection they have to make it through.”

“Belay that, Morgan,” her father said. “The northern phalanx will enter the garrison at any moment. We need to stop them before they can merge with the southern force. Go now.”

“Hold.” Lord Garis held up his hand. “You are too few. The provincials can handle the north. The healers must be kept clear from the fray. They are too important to lose.”

When her father took a step toward Lord Garis, she moved quickly to stand between the men. “Father—”

“If they are not on the battlefield, they do not need a guard. The Ken’nar surely mean to box us in.”

“If the healers die, so will others who could have been saved. Do you want that kind of blood on your hands? We are wasting time, Steward.”

Her father glared at the Trine a moment longer. “Morgan, guard the healers.”

Binthe shook her head in disbelief. “The Ken’nar will—”

“Do as I say before more people die needlessly,” her father snapped, his silver eyes flashing in anger.

Morgan’s gaze slid from her father to Lord Garis. “I will wait for your next call, my steward.”

He and Binthe ran from the tent. Kaarl turned to the Trine. “Whatever has passed between us, please, save my daughter. I’m begging you.”

“I promised you, no harm will come to her as long as I am alive. I stand by my word.” Lord Garis’s mouth curled into a most unpleasant smile. “In spite of what has passed between us.”

What was going on here? Mirana glanced at the Trine, to her father, and back again.

“Garis.” Her father’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t want you to protect her. I want you to get her out of here. She won’t make it past the black bastards without you.”

Her mother shook her head. “It’s too late for that now.”

Mirana held the hilt of a long knife. “I have to stay and help. It’s my right—”

The sound of a galloping horse interrupted the rest of her reply. A fiercely beautiful young woman staggered into the command tent cradling another unconscious older woman in her arms. Their torn cloaks bore a red horse on a white field, the mark of the Varn-Erdal province. For a moment, Mirana didn’t recognize them. Blood and grime covered both women, the younger woman’s face contorted in grief. Liaonne Edaran and her mother Vallia, the province’s defender prime. The few times Mirana had met them during Quorumtide had been brief. Her father once said they fought like Ken’nar, only not as mercifully.

“Expect no aid from Varn-Erdal, Prime Kellis Pinal,” the young woman said, her voice hoarse with exhaustion. “I need help. My mother is dying.”

Lord Garis took Vallia Edaran from Liaonne and laid her down on the tent floor to examine her injuries.

“Liaonne, what happened?” Desde helped the younger defender to sit on a supply chest.

“We took a different route from Edara to come to the Ford for our tour of duty.” She clawed the mud and blood out of the braids in her pale-gold hair. “Traders reported Ken’nar on our eastern borders. We rode on the windward side of the Dar-Anars, making for the Kabaarh Pass. The Ken’nar were already there. More than I’ve ever seen.”

Mirana never heard the rest of Liaonne Edaran’s tale. The tent vanished from her eyes.

Pain. In the chest. In the stomach. A stabbing, burning consuming all. Blood. Gushing away, away, away.

“She’s bleeding.” What was this she was seeing with her Healing Aspect? Where was this?

“Vallia is done for, Tetric,” her father said. “The Ken’nar are coming. Please take Mirana away from here.”

... I need your help ... the Trine called to Mirana. ... The healers have left ...

She shook her head. “I’ve never done anything like this.”

Lord Garis’s amulet glowed as he put his hands on Vallia Edaran’s injuries. ... You must help me stop the bleeding ...

... I hear it, but I don’t know how to stop it ... The screeching discord nearly drowned out the Trine’s call.

... You do not need to ... I need you to work in concert with me ... I need you ... Now ... He reached up with a bloody hand to grab her wrist and pull her down to her knees with him. He forced her hand into wounds in the woman’s chest.

She tried to pull away, but his grip on her was unbreakable. Vallia Edaran’s wounds, the Trine’s Healing Aspect, and the Trine’s amulet pulled at her even stronger.

Chest muscles torn. Blood leaks from veins. Soft gray lobes, lungs, punctured. Filling with blood. Another artery, low in the abdomen, bleeds, bleeds, bleeds.

Mirana’s consciousness slipped further from her control. The woman’s injuries immobilized her, starved for her Aspects to heal them. Lord Garis’s presence held her fast to Vallia’s wounds. Her very life felt as though it were draining from her. He focused on the rent flesh in the woman’s chest. In Vallia’s abdomen, however, blood hemorrhaged unchecked in rhythmic, ever-weakening rushes. The Varn-Erdalan prime would bleed to death from the stomach wound before he would finish repairing her chest. She knew this. Her Healing Aspect told her so. Her Seeing Aspect told her so.

Her Defending Aspect, however, rose in response to a warning, competing for her attention. The Ken’nar advanced ever closer.

Mirana’s Healing powers welled up within her, demanding release. She wrested her hand from Lord Garis’s grip and reached for his amulet. Her Aspects surged through her, through the Trine, through his amulet. They collided with the harmonics of the hematite crystal with brutal force, vying for control of the amulet over its owner. She sank her free hand deep into the Vallia Edaran’s ruined abdomen. She needed to heal.

She. Must. Heal.

A large artery in the woman’s abdomen leaked out her life with each fading heartbeat. The cacophony of the injuries resolved into a single unbearable note. She poured all her strength into silencing that note, trying to close the tear in the great vessel behind the woman’s bowels.

The wound was suddenly torn from her mind’s eye. She screamed, the separation was too abrupt, too profound.

“How dare you use my daughter like an accursed Ken’nar tool?” Her father dragged her back from the dying woman’s body. The tent snapped into focus again.

Her mother rushed over. “Kaarl!”

Mirana gasped. Blood had spattered over her clothes, her chest, and her face. She began to shake with revulsion as she attempted to wipe the gore away from her cheek with the back of a bloody hand.

Liaonne Edaran rushed to Vallia, holding her head. “Lord Trine, please save my mother.”

“What in Aspects’ name are you doing, man?” Lord Garis shouted. “Vallia Edaran will die without Mirana.”

The raw notes from Vallia Edaran’s body silenced abruptly.

“No!” Mirana pulled herself from her father’s hold. She sank back to her knees and placed her hands on the Varn-Erdalan prime. “Oh, no.” She frantically searched for the discord of agony that had been there a moment ago. All was silent. “No.”

The Trine held his amulet a moment longer, then let it fall back against his chest. “You will regret this, Pinal.” He sat back on his heels and glared at her father with raw hatred. Was he calling something to him—or was going to attack him?

The Dar-Azûlan raised his face to Liaonne. “I am so sorry, Defender Second. Your mother is gone.” He reverently lifted the prime’s red beryl amulet over her neck and handed it to her daughter. “Oë Primus. Thou art prime, Liaonne il’Edaran. Diu vide a Vallia il’Edaran. Long live Vallia Edaran.”

“Why, Father?” Mirana staggered to her feet. “Why?”

Lightning flashed outside the tent, illuminating the canvas, and her father’s furious face riveted on Lord Garis. Thunder cracked in answer. The wind rose sharply, battering at the tent.

The Trine rose to his feet and wiped his hands on his cloak. “Mirana, leave it be.”

She ignored him. “Is your hatred of Lord Garis so strong, you would let a prime die rather than let me work with him to save her?”

He shook his head. “He was stealing your Aspects from you.”

“Stealing? He was directing me. I’ve never done this before. We were trying to save Prime Edaran’s life. You would let a woman die in an act of revenge because our Trine did not answer your call for aid two summers ago? Did you ever think about how painful that decision was for him to make, knowing good men and women were going to die? Did you? And now you let another good woman die to spite him.”

“Mirana, stop,” the Trine said, breathing his words in futility.

Her father held up his hands, pleading. “No. Of course not. I was trying to protect you.”

She curled her hands into fists. “You would rather a woman die because of a disagreement about the future of the il’Kin?”

“I was trying to protect you, Mirana. Don’t you understand that?” Her father grabbed her arms. “I have not kept your Trine gifts a secret for sixteen summers only to have you killed!”

The tent went silent.

She froze in horrified astonishment. “You what?” Disbelief slammed into her like a battering ram made of amulet fire. She wrenched herself free. “You knew? All along?”

Her mother clutched her amulet. “We were trying to keep you safe, biraena. Please believe that. But now, we must retreat. The Ken’nar will be here at any moment. Please believe us.”

“You both knew? Both of you?” Mirana looked from her mother to her father, ignoring the warning. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Please understand, Miri,” her mother said, “we never meant to deceive you. We knew you’d understand your powers someday, but we hoped you’d come to us before now. When you didn’t, we thought you still didn’t know. We decided to wait until you were ready to choose an amulet. That way, you could protect yourself—” she looked out the tent entrance, “in case we no longer could. We were wrong. So very wrong.”

Her father now held his amulet, red light spilling from between his fingers. “If the Dark Trine knew yet another Trine existed, he would have done everything in his power to kill you.” He glanced out of the tent. “We did this to keep you safe. We have no time to discuss this now. We must hurry.”

Mirana whirled around to face Tetric Garis. “Did you know, too?”

He shook his head. “I never knew for certain. They would never let me near you.”

Had she only known when she was a young child, had she only been apprenticed to Lord Garis sooner, she might never have had her vision of the white light in the keep. Of Kinderra’s destruction at her hands. Of Teague’s death. Kinderra might have been free of what she was to become. If she had known summers ago, she might not have been so wrapped in fear she would not have lost trust in herself and could have saved these people at the Ford. Had she only known sooner.

Anger consumed her like a wildfire burning tinder-dry grass. It filled her, validated her sense of betrayal. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Her father's face so often wore a determined expression, as if he never left his battles behind. Now, it sank into utter despondency, reflecting the desperation and despair in his mind. He deserved his pain. Maybe he would know something of what the Underworld her life had become felt like. “Mirana, please. We never meant to hurt you. You must go now.”

She backed away from them. “It’s more than me you’ve hurt. Kinderra will suffer, too.”

She stormed out of the command tent. Thunder rolled through the cold, damp night, but this time it did not die away. It grew louder. Otherworldly cries filled the air followed by peculiar whistles and dull thuds. Grynwen. Arrows.

The Ken’nar had arrived.

CHAPTER 21

“Quen u’pace ve, Aspecta’e Alta íre.”

(“When war comes, the Aspects Above abandon.”)

—Ora Fal’kinnen 95:16

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Mirana stood, disbelief and fear adding to her rage at her parents’ betrayal. A nightmare came to life before her. To the north, two battalions of Fal’kin clashed with an equal number of Ken’nar as lightning knifed overhead. Grynwen tore at the bellies of horses with claws and knife-long fangs, sending their riders falling into the amulet fire and swords of the black-armored warriors. An instant later, the lightning ceased, and the fields were plunged back into the inky darkness, but the sounds of war drew inexorably closer. This was no longer a vision from the Seeing Aspect, no longer just moving pictures in her mind. This was real.

The Fal’kin leaders rushed from the tent behind her. Liaonne Edaran growled at the Ken’nar nearing the camp. “I will fight with you, Prime Kellis Pinal. And I will make every single one of those black bastards pay for what they’ve done to Varn-Erdal and to me!”

“I cannot express my sorrow or gratitude to you,” her mother replied to Liaonne, but her eyes remained on Mirana. “Take Legion Three from Defender Second Niall Corran. I’ll call him with the order.”

The new prime nodded and raced to her horse. Mirana shook her head, breaking her daze. She fought the urge to follow the Varn-Erdalan and add her own inferno of fury to the defender woman’s revenge.

Desde reached out to her. “Miri, Lightness, please—”

She pushed her mother away. “Don’t. Just. Don’t.”

Her Seeing and Defending Aspects rose. She sucked in a raw breath. Without an amulet to focus them, they fought each other for supremacy within her. Her Defending Aspect surged, blotting out future skeins of time with the immediacy of need.

Dark-fletched arrows sang overhead, their flaming shafts making bright steaks in the night sky. A long, thick projectile tore through the command tent, setting it ablaze. She screamed, the fire tearing her awareness from her Aspects.

Tetric Garis tore his helmet from the saddlebag straps and slammed it down on his head. In one smooth movement, he swung his leg over his black stallion. ... Get on your horse, Mirana ... Now ...

She ran for Ashtar and vaulted onto his saddle. She turned to her parents, more emotions boiling in her than she could ever identify. “I never want to see either of you again.”

She dug her heels into Ashtar's sides and sent him into a run.

Mirana’s Aspects were assaulted by the fury of the oncoming Ken’nar as she charged to the east with the Trine. Her Healing Aspect erupted in response to the abrupt ending of lives. Swift and relentless, images borne of her Seeing Aspect cut in and out before her mind’s eye and her mortal eyes. A burning hunger welled up from deep in her chest. Her Defending Aspect begged to be released to stop the Ken’nar.

She stole a glance to the south. Through a flash of lightning, she saw the southern Ken’nar contingent riding toward the garrison. Like a black ocean, the warriors covered the plains just beyond the entrance to the Ford valley. Thunder plunged the scene back into darkness.

Lord Garis charged his stallion alongside her. ... Follow the Anarath River until you are well away from the Ford ... I will meet you by the Stairs of Anar ... Go now ... He sharply wheeled his horse away to charge south.

“My lord, wait—!”

Flares of multicolored lightning exploded around her. She screamed and ducked low over her saddle, covering her head with one arm. Fal’kin converged on the Ken’nar as they neared the installation. The clash of their swords cut through the night air.

The blood-soaked fury around her was far more terrifying than any vision ever could be. She fought to put the death that surrounded her, the agony, the rage into some sort of context, but no rationale could ever explain this. The Underworld had released itself before her and she was now one of the damned.

Panicked, she drew a long knife as Ashtar surged forward, frantically searching the battlefield for the Trine. ... Lord Garis ... No answer returned to her. Had he hidden under U’Nehíl, cloaking his presence from the Ken’nar Dark Trine? No Fal’kin could fight under U’Nehíl, and certainly not use an amulet while hidden. Lord Garis was no ordinary Fal’kin, however. Could his Trine Aspects uphold U’Nehíl while he fought? She couldn’t possibly sift through Aspects amid the fighting to find his mind behind false duplications of life like she had her father. There was simply too much of...of everything.

Only Tetric Garis could help her find a new destiny, one that would save Kinderra and not destroy it. If the Ken’nar Dark Trine was here at the Ford, he would try to kill him just as surely as he would try to kill her. Fervent determination welled up from her, no less powerful than a true Aspect.

Tetric Garis saved her life. And she would save his.

“Ashtar, we have to find him before the Dark Trine does.”

Mirana slapped the horse’s reins on his shoulder with one hand, held out her long knife with the other, and charged south further into the embattled garrison.

CHAPTER 22

“The love I bear for my wife, and she for me, has been made incarnate. A son! The Aspects Above hath granted their servant a son!”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

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Teague raced toward the Dar-Anar foothills with his parents and the herbsfolk who had come with them from Deren. The il’Kin defenders surrounded them in a protective circle as they rode.

He glanced back over his shoulder and wished he hadn’t. Flames within the garrison shot up into the sky, engulfing the canvas and wood tents. The battle was silhouetted against the bright orange of the fire. Thankfully the Ken’nar were so preoccupied with the Fal’kin, their little group hadn’t been seen. He frowned at himself. Should he even be thankful for that?

Defender Commander Morgan Jord raised a fist in the air and brought the group to halt. “We should be far enough away.”

Battle Seer Binthe Lima cantered her horse up to them and squinted into the distance. She closed her eyes and held her amulet. A moment later, his mother and father exchanged confused expressions. Morgan nodded and frowned.

Teague had never witnessed a battle seer calling a fight before. It was unnerving. “What?” he asked Binthe. He winced. Did he do the wrong thing and break her concentration?

She opened her eyes, but they remained unfocused. “Our battalions are focused on the northern Ken’nar phalanx.” Her words came slowly as she translated the visual language of her Seeing Aspect. “But the southern Ken’nar forces are holding their position.” She jutted her chin in a direction beyond the Anarath bridge.

Teague squinted. Barely visible in the foggy mirk was a long black line, darker than the night. Not seeing the warriors but knowing they were there was more frightening than actually having them apparent. Maybe. He swallowed.

“She means to prevent the northern Ken’nar force from regrouping with the south,” Binthe continued, “but she will not have enough fighters. When the south comes.”

His father gripped his horse’s reins with white knuckles. “The provincial forces will be overrun. I will not sit here and watch our people be slaughtered.”

“No, Tennen,” his mother pleaded.

“I have the blood of defenders in my veins.”

“Ai, but it is the Healing Aspect you hold. You cannot use a blade.”

“I do not need a blade to stop them.”

“Tennen, Ëi cara, listen to your wife,” Morgan said. “If you were to be killed, who would heal us?”

“If I can stop the Ken’nar, no Fal’kin will need to be healed.”

Alarm shot arrowlike through Teague. He had never seen his father like this. “Father, you’re a healer. You cannot kill.”

His father exhaled, releasing his anger. He hung his head. “Ai, son. I am sorry. I do not fight Ken’nar, I fight a much more terrible foe, death itself. My place is here.” He turned to the defender and the seer. “But it is not yours. The il’Kin have done enough getting us out safely. Desde and Kaarl need you far more than we do. Go.”

Binthe’s fingers curled around the hilt of one of her long knives. “I sense danger to you here.”

“There is danger everywhere,” his mother replied. “If the il’Kin can help Kaarl stop the southern phalanx, we will be safe. Maybe we are too small a group to be noticed.”

His father stared intently at Morgan and must have called something, as the il’Kin leader nodded after a moment.

The young defender commander returned a grim smile. “Remember the Light and the Keep, Ëi cara. Rememore Kin e Forte.”

Even Teague knew it would take more than a battle cry to save the Fal’kin.

As the il’Kin raced back toward the southern bridge and what was left of the garrison, Binthe paused. “Be careful. Please.” She charged after the others.

His parents and the herbsfolk dismounted and began to check what supplies they had in their packs. He remained in his saddle, locked in horrified fascination at the battle. Jets of colored lightning flared. Was Mirana still somewhere in the garrison, trapped behind the lines?

She had told him she didn’t want him in her life anymore. It was more than his heart could bear, a wound that would never stop bleeding. Every time one of the amulets loosed its deadly fire, frantic dread gripped him as he wondered if she had been struck down.

His father approached and put a hand on the broad neck of Teague’s horse. “I want you to ride south. Do not stop until you reach Kasan.” His eyes, too, remained on the il’Kin riding toward the distant battle. “Tell the defender prime there what has happened.”

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving.”

His father reached up and grabbed his arm so tightly he thought he’d snap it in two. “You will do as you’re told.”

“No. That is a massacre.” He pulled himself free and pointed to the embattled garrison. “You’ll need every herbsman, just like Seer Prime Kellis Pinal needs every Fal’kin.” Mirana. She didn’t have an amulet. “I don’t know everything, but I can be of some help.”

“Teague—”

“Tennen, the Ken’nar came from the south,” his mother said, cutting off his father’s warning. “There could be more.”

His father blew out his breath and nodded. “Get down from your horse, son. You’ll be less of a target for arrows. If any should come this way.”

Teague climbed down and watched the distant il’Kin disappear into the rain and smoke and death.

CHAPTER 23

“Patientia ísi straitéis magne i’tuda”

(“Patience is the best strategy of all.”)

—Ora Fal’kinennen 95:29

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The Ain Magne sat astride his stallion as he surveyed the fight from a river bluff south of the garrison and tightened a buckle on his chest plate. His armor was indistinguishable from every other Ken’nar, save for the fact he wore no livery, no surcoat. He was Trine for all of Kinderra, therefore no single provincial symbol would he prefer over another. After a gesture with his hand, an aide immediately handed him a gauntlet. He had young Aspected who had yet to choose an amulet bear for him the skeletal black plates of metal and dark chain mail of the Ken’nar, but he dressed himself. More than one Ken warlord died at the hands of an armor-bearer.

... First North artillery ... One more sortie ... Defenders ... At the ready ...

He allowed the myriad of sensations washed through him, over him, every Aspect thrumming, every nerve alight with the heady maelstrom of war. When he was young, his first experience with battle had overwhelmed him as pain, fear, fury, bloodlust, past impressions, future tellings, and the raw need to release power from him all vied for his attention. He had long since learned to let such sensations run their course for a moment rather than fighting to beat them back. After decades of war, the onslaught of emotions no longer subdued him. Only when the shock of mayhem and death at the open of a battle had receded did he clear his mind and take control of himself and the fray. He did not savor the experience, far from it, but he let the abrupt endness of death serve as a constant reminder of how much was at stake. How much there was to lose. To gain.

... Cease fire ... Archers pull back ... Defender Commander Staine, you have the field ...

... Ai, Lord ... his northern captain returned. ... What of the Varn-Erdalans? ... Our battle seers had divined a large unit in the Dar-Anars heading towards our location ...

The Ain Magne smiled. Let his second take the credit he was due. He turned his head to face the thousands of Ken’nar behind him and the young, thin man at their head. “Seer Second?’

His lieutenant nodded, his pale green amulet shining in the darkness. ... The Varn-Erdalan forces are no longer an issue for you, Commander ... the young seer replied.

... Excellent! ... We will have the Garnath Bridge for you shortly, my Trine ...

From his vantage point, he could view the entirety of the battle. His northern phalanx had done its job, sending barrage after barrage of ignited naphtha-coated arrows into the installation. The heavy rain, of course, would have dowsed conventional fire. His second scoffed at the use of the Seeing Aspect to predict the weather. The young man would learn it was one of that particular Aspect’s greatest uses.

Brilliant white fire consumed garrison tents, sending the Fal’kin scrambling for their horses. Greasy, acrid smoke, the odor perceptible even at his distance, mixed with fog and slowly spread a pall over what was left of the garrison. The Fal’kin battle seers had certainly predicted the presence of his southern contingent, but his troops had yet to enter the theater of battle. An immediate threat always took precedence over a less urgent one. So the Seer Prime Kellis Pinal gave the only order she could: form a line to prevent his northern units from coming any closer. Desde was a smart woman, though. More than likely, she, too, knew the fallacy of her order before she even gave it. And so, he had her right where he wanted her.

His second trotted his horse closer. He removed the steel wolflike skull of a helmet and shook the sweat from his light brown hair. “The troops grow restless, my lord. Give me the order.”

It was a fair observation, but sending in the southern phalanx at this very moment would accomplish nothing but waste precious defenders—on both sides.

The boy was smarter than this and should be above letting bloodlust get the better of him. “The time is not yet right. Use your Aspect. Tell me what you see.”

The seer stared at him a moment, not bothering to hide the frustration leaking from his mind. “I have, my lord. As always. If we move in now, we can wipe out the Kin-Deren bitch—”

“—Show some respect. She is a prime.”

The young seer bowed his head, acknowledging the reprimand but his face reddened with anger, not contrition. “We can wipe out Kellis Pinal’s north unit before her defenders have fully organized. We need to be bold and swift.”

“And we will be. When I am ready.”

His second leaned forward in his saddle and bounced his black armored forearm against the pommel of his saddle, an anxious gesture that had never disappeared despite training. “Staine won’t be able to take the bridge without more troops. He’s outnumbered two to one.”

“Ai. He is. But not for long.” He shifted in his saddle and sought his field commander’s mind. ... Shore up your eastern flank and herd the Fal’kin down the ridge ...

His commander was far too engaged in fighting to call a mind-worded reply but instead sent an affirmative intent. The man was a seasoned defender, a veteran of many battles. He had been right to put Staine in a position of leadership. He was not insulted but grateful the man had not wasted time and effort on a more formal reply.

The Trine curled his armor-encased fingers around the dark crystal of his amulet and let the connection build between his Aspects and the gem. His northern phalanx was momentarily pushed back by the Fal’kin defending the Garnath Bridge. Soon, the Pinals would make another move, again the only one they could, again leading them closer to their downfall. His shoulders tensed with a surge of the Defending Aspect within him.

Beside him, his second inhaled sharply, pale light spilling from the amulet he held. “She’s going to make a mistake. She will destroy herself with that order.”

“Eventually. But it’s not Desde’s mistake, she will only accede to it. It will be her husband who will make the mistake.”

The time had nearly come.

“I have an order for you. Make certain the girl remains alive. Make certain your men and women know this. If any of your troops try to harm her, kill that person. Personally.”

Again, the seer faced him, but this time he withheld comment.

It was a sacrifice he was loathed to make, but Mirana Pinal alone was worth more than every single Ken’nar on the face of the continent.

The Ain Magne set his grynwen-skull helmet over his head and adjusted the faceplate.

... Seer Second ... Move the southern phalanx into position ...

CHAPTER 24

“And the battle was joined. Like the fire of the Aspects, all were consumed all in their wake.”

—The Book of Kinderra

––––––––

Kaarl shrugged off the burning sensation in his shoulder and sucked in a lungful of air, vitality returning to him. He pulled his sword free from the Ken’nar’s chest as the light from the dark warrior’s amulet faded. The Ken’nar who died at the end of his blade had dared try to use Kaarl’s own life to power his damned amulet, but his sword was even faster than the Power from Without.

He, Desde, her battle seers, and a unit of provincial defenders fought to hold the eastern ridge leading into the Ford valley so the garrison could retreat. The fighting moved down the valley rim from them, giving him a moment to study the battle. The Fal’kin at the northern Garnath bridge had taken losses. The line was holding, but they would not be able to maintain it much longer. Death lay ahead and behind. Once the main Ken’nar host from the south arrived, they would be hopelessly outnumbered. They would lose. The Ken’nar would then march east and take Deren with almost no resistance from the citadel. All of Desde’s fighters had been deployed here at the Ford. To save Deren, and the rest of the continent, they had to succeed at the Ford. But how?

“How did they find the command tent so quickly?” Desde asked. “We barely escaped being burned alive.” She shook off something from one of her long knives. Grynwen flesh. Disgusting, mangy beasts.

“They didn’t find anything. They just set flames at will.”

He would have never known his wife had not seen combat in nearly twenty summers. He wondered, not for the first time, if she had a touch of the Varn-Erdalan viciousness somewhere in her blood.

She held her amulet, then gasped and pointed southward. “Look.”

A black wave swept toward the Ford off to the south emerged from the darkness between flashes of lightning. The Ken’nar southern phalanx. Five thousand of them.

A wash of grim dread flooded him. When all the Fal’kin intelligence spoke of an attack at dawn, the Dark Trine sent the Ken’nar under cover of night. When they expected a force of five hundred from the north, the Dark Trine split his troops into two units, with five thousand approaching from the south.

He searched the battlefield with his silver eyes and senses more acute. “Where is Garis?”

“I do not know. I cannot sense him. He must be under U’Nehíl.”

He tore his gaze away from the battle lines to look at his wife. “During a battle?”

“Maybe he’s shielding her somehow as well.” Desde wasn’t watching the fighting but focused on the long knife in her hand.

“I hope he’s not at the Ford at all.” He prayed the Trine was riding away with Mirana. He dared not reach for his daughter’s mind. He would not be able to fight if the Aspects gave him silence.

He shut out his worry for his daughter, his determination a citadel gate slamming closed against a marauding horde. His Aspect and his amulet were the only things left to him to save her now that his silence no longer could. He studied the Ken’nar battle lines again. “They will attempt to surround us.”

She nodded. “Ai. I’ve seen it in four out of five future skeins.”

“Garis was right. We will not be able to get out.” He gritted his teeth. “You’ll have to order the provincials to split into two units, one to keep the southern phalanx from advancing and the other to try to finish off the northern unit.”

Desde frowned. “It will turn our one weak army into two even weaker ones.”

“Can you think of any better way to prevent being cut down between their two?”

His wife sighed in frustration. “No.”

“By your order, my prime, I will take half and go south. Defender Commander Dav Koehl and Liaonne Edaran can have at these bastards.”

She nodded, her face taut with concern. “We need a miracle, Ëi ama.”

Anger quickly replaced his defeat, his Defending Aspect rising to the need. He cast out a wide call. Hundreds of Kin-Deren defenders peeled off from the fighting and raced south.

Kaarl curled his lip into a fierce snarl. “I will be your damned miracle.”

He dug his heels into the sides of his horse and charged into the fray.

CHAPTER 25

“The question is not what I would do for Kinderra but what I would not do. To that, I reply, ‘Nothing!’”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

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“Father, Mirana’s out there.” Teague wiped the wet hair from his eyes. He blinked against the rain as the horror in the distance continued to unfold.

His mother stifled yet another moan. “There’s so much death. I cannot keep it from me.” His father put a hand on her, steadying her.

He had never seen her react this way. It frightened him. His parents had each other and were surrounded by the herbsfolk. Mirana might be all alone. If the Dark Trine found her, he would surely kill her.

He gritted his teeth as fire bit into something flammable in the garrison and flames exploded into the sky. “I have to find her.”

“She is with her mother, one of Kinderra’s most skilled battle seers,” his father replied, not taking his eyes from the embattled garrison.

Teague clenched his teeth tighter. A skilled battle seer who hadn’t fought since well before he was born. He tightened his hands into fists. He could not sense his father’s emotions, but he was certain they now shared the same rage, which neither could use. “The garrison is overrun. They’ll be out on the fields by now.”

The flashes of amulet light in the north dwindled. The Fal’kin were dying. The Ford was lost. Mirana. Panicked need welled up from the pit of his stomach like bile. He had to do something. Anything.

His father closed his eyes, his mouth working in a silent curse. As a child, he had been known as “the boy who could see death.” The overwhelming sense of lives lost mustn’t have been any easier for his father to bear than his mother. “Mirana is clever. Her Trine Aspects—” he took a breath and swallowed before he opened his eyes, “her Aspects will keep her safe.”

Fire consumed another tent in the camp, sending bright orange flames high into the air.

“Mirana hasn’t trained for something like this,” Teague said, gesturing wide at the distant battle. “She hasn’t even held a knife in more than six summers. Regardless of her Aspects, she’s only one person against thousands. She will be killed. I have to help her.”

His father whirled toward him. “No, you do not, biraen.”

“You can’t protect me anymore. I’m not a child.”

“Ai, you are. You are my child. I will protect you. No matter what I must do.”

Teague clenched and unclenched his hands in useless anger. “You don’t think I can protect myself? Or her? Because I’m not Aspected?”

“Ai, dammit, ai. Because she has not one but three Aspects. Because she has Sight to see those who will strike her down before they do. Because she has had at least some training with a blade. You do not have any of those.”

Teague glanced at his mother as she drew in a sharp breath once more, trying to push away the omnipresent sense of death. He turned back to his father. “It does not matter whose hand holds a sword. It can still kill.”

Instead of another reprimand, Teague’s father pulled him into a fierce embrace. “You have always thought I was ashamed of you because were born without Aspects.” He held him back, gripping his head to stare into his eyes. “I am grateful, Teague il’Sahli il’Beltran, so very grateful you do not have these burdens, because you will never be consigned to the madness of combat.” He wrapped his arms around Teague once more. “You are my son. The greatest gift the Aspects Above could have ever bestowed on me. I will not lose you to the Ken’nar. I will not.”

Teague returned his embrace with equal strength. “Father, why didn’t you ever tell me this before—”

“Tennen.” His mother pointed toward the blazing garrison. A detachment of riders separated from the embroiled fighting and rode in their direction.

Teague stepped from his father. “Do they have wounded with them?” Tennen stood motionless, his eyes wide. “Father?”

His mother’s face had gone white. His parents looked at each other. Tennen nodded minutely. He slowly walked over to his horse and drew a sword from beneath the saddle blanket.

Teague’s eyes widened in horror. “F-Father?” He hadn’t meant him to take his earlier words literally.

“Son, get on your horse. Now.” His mother’s voice was taut with her command. In her hand, she held a long knife.

“But—”

She swallowed noisily. “We have no choice now.”

“Everyone, to your horses.” His father swung up into his saddle as the other herbsfolk quickly scrambled to their mounts. “Ride south. Head for the Sün-Kasalan grasslands.” He jabbed at the sides of his horse with his heels and broke into a dead run.

Teague shook himself and clambered onto Bankin’s saddle. She immediately took off without any urging.

High-pitched whines shrieked through the air, rising above the din of the battle. He ducked instinctively. Two of the herbsfolk riding close to him screamed and fell off their horses, arrows protruding from their chests. Ken’nar flooded across the fields toward them.

He reined in his horse to avoid running into one of the dark-armored warriors. His father swung his sword. A Ken’nar fell, screaming, then was silent. He stared at his father. Blood smeared the sword the healer held in his hand, his face twisted in grief and rage. “Get down!”

Teague ducked, narrowly avoiding being decapitated by a Ken’nar sword. The movement, however, spilled him from the saddle. He landed hard. Dazed, he shook his head to clear it. A Ken’nar mount was coming down on top of him. He screamed and rolled away.

His mother turned her blood-spattered face toward him. “Teague. Run.” A Ken’nar charged his mount, shrieking a war cry, and tried to pull his mother from her horse.

“Mother!”

She flung her arm, and the Ken’nar landed on the ground several feet away.

The dark warrior reached for his amulet, aiming it at Teague. Fire never left the amulet. The Ken’nar’s head twisted with a wet crack and lolled to one side. He collapsed into a heap. His mother gripped her amulet, groaning in pain and anguish.

Teague shook with terrified understanding. She had used her Healing Aspect to break the Ken’nar’s neck. She killed the dark warrior to save his life.

His father grabbed him and shoved him toward his horse. “Go!” He took a glancing blow to his shoulder from an amulet and cried out in pain.

Panicked, Teague looked for a weapon. “I—”

“Please, son.”

He swung up into the saddle. He slapped at his horse with the reins and plowed through three Ken’nar. He had to find Lord Garis, someone, anyone. He had to get help.

Teague raced hard for the Anarath bridge.

CHAPTER 26

“The Kin-Deren defenders met the Ken’nar on the field of battle, mighty red eagles winging their way toward accursed black crows.”

—The Book of Kinderra

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Kaarl let loose another volley of vermilion fire from his garnet amulet at a group of Ken’nar crossing the southern bridge. The pouring rain hissed as it touched the crystal’s heat. The dark-armored warriors charged toward the garrison, lightning reflecting off their wet protective plates.

He yanked the reins of the sleek, gray charger he rode, dragging its head around and slipping out of a melee. This animal—he hadn’t had time to learn its name before marching out of Deren—was much leaner than Ashtar. Lean and swift. That might give him a few advantages fighting in such close quarters while mounted.

As they neared, he fired another strike with his amulet. They answered him with a hail of arrows. He thrust out his hands at the incoming projectiles. Arrows dropped from the sky at an oblique angle, hitting an invisible Aspected wall. Many, even most of them, fell. But not all. There were too many. He heard a scream behind him. His curse was lost as a Ken’nar mind clutched at him, grasping, the warrior trying to draw from his Aspects to feed his power. The pull released abruptly when the head flew from the Ken’nar’s shoulders by a Fal’kin sword.

... Legion Five ... Advance left ... Don’t let them break the line ... he called to one of the battalions Desde had put under his command. He dug his heels into his horse and rode for a unit of Ken’nar trying to curl around to the west as they came off the bridge.

He had hoped they could keep the Ken’nar on the Sün-Kasalan side of the southern Anarath bridge. He must avoid fighting on the bridge itself. There would be no room to maneuver there, even for his slight horse. That had been his plan, anyway.

The Ken’nar bastards flew across the Anarath bridge and cut off any escape to the east. He and the provincial forces he commanded for Desde were caught between the Ken’nar in front of the southern bridge and the apex of the land’s edge where it dropped away into the river gorge. His only choice now was to press them east once more into the shallow bowl of the valley and attack the enemy on the open fields. Ken’nar tangled with Fal’kin there, too, but at least he’d have room to fight. What was more, if he could hold the Ken’nar to that location, Desde and what was left of Dav Koehl’s legions could try again for a retreat. He had to prevent his forces from being herded south onto the bridge or off the cliffs into the river ravine.

Kaarl whirled in his saddle and narrowly blocked the heavy blade of a Ken’nar warrior with his own sword. The clash sent jarring pain through his elbow and up his arm. He gripped the hilt of his blade with both hands and slid it out from under the Ken’nar’s parry, bringing it down on his attacker’s shoulder. The black-armored fighter howled in pain and rage but sidestepped his horse away. The Ken’nar swung the broadsword at his neck.

Kaarl ducked low over his saddle pommel, then thrust his blade through a chink in the rib plates of the Ken’nar’s armor. The blow unseated his opponent. The dark warrior’s horse screamed in terror at the sudden loss of its rider and bucked, pawing at the air. It came down hard on its master’s chest, finishing Kaarl’s grim work. Two grynwen slunk beneath the terrified horse and tore at its fallen rider. Even their strong jaws could not penetrate Ken’nar armor, so they simply shook their heads, rending his limbs from his torso. He hoped the man was already dead.

Another wave of dark riders raced toward him and the Fal’kin. He hammered at a Ken’nar with a jet of red lightning from his amulet. It met the Ken’nar’s green flame, creating a tall column of deadly fire between them as each sought to repel the other. A wrenching pull within him nearly forced him from his saddle. He would not fall prey to the Power from Without so easily. He dug deep and poured out his Defending Aspect. Another Fal’kin slashed at his attacker and, at last, his amulet fire engulfed the Ken’nar.

An agonized scream lifted in the air. Not Kaarl’s attacker—he was already a pile of greasy ash. It came from behind. He spared a glance behind him. Several combatants, Fal’kin and Ken’nar both, slipped over the land’s edge into the river gorge as the ground fell apart under the hooves of their mounts.

He gasped. The very earth was crumbling away. The ground, made soft and unstable by days of pounding rain, eroded under the weight of hundreds of fighters.

More fighters screamed as they plummeted over the edge of the land.

He had to break the Ken’nar line or the Fal’kin would be pressed off the cliff—and into the abyss.

CHAPTER 27

“The Power from Without: An Aspect created by man to do what man wishes with Life, not that which is the will of the Aspects Above.”

—The Book of Kinderra

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The Ain Magne grimaced behind the faceplate of his grynwen-like helmet and ignored the heat reflecting in his face from his breath against the steel. Ken’nar and Fal’kin alike slipped over the edge of the Ford, plunging to their deaths in the ravine as the bluffs themselves gave way.

... Fall back! ... Fall back! ... he screamed through his call.

The damned rain. He had used it to his advantage. Now, it was a weapon turned against him, one he was not prepared to fight.

... Why dost thou test thy servant, O Aspects Above? ...

He swept his great sword at a group of Fal’kin who raced toward him, blood on their minds, and beheaded three at once. “Damn you!” There simply hadn’t been time to harvest them.

... Ëi Seconde! ... Advance the archers toward the Fal’kin rear guard ... Move them away from the cliffs ...

An intent of consent reached his mind. Several hundred feet ahead of him, a wave of black-armored archers ebbed from the land’s end pushing the Fal’kin closer to the egress of the Anarath bridge.

The Trine lifted his bottom lip over the upper one, tasting the salt of his sweat as it trickled down his face. And smiled. His second had taken the first step toward creating the last step for the Fal’kin.

Before he could even think about connecting with his Seeing Aspect, blistering heat burned into his shoulder. He hissed a curse and yanked the head of his stallion around.

“I am not so easily defeated!” He loosed metallic-colored light from his amulet, filling the gem with the life force of his opponent. His Fal’kin foe erupted into screaming flames.

The Ain Magne glanced once more at his Ken’nar on the bridge. The Fal’kin would be hounded in the front and the rear by his troops when they made a play for his yet-unsupported southern phalanx. He would have the Fal’kin trapped.

A wall of red eagles-on-saffron fell upon his troops, driving them back toward the open fields of the river valley.

The Kin-Deren provincials.

Bright red amulet fire stuttered over a Ken’nar unit, five of his warriors erupting into flames as the tongues of flame caressed them.

Kaarl Pinal.

“Damn him!” He dug his heels into the sides of his mount and charged closer to the southern landing of the Anarath bridge.

His Seeing Aspect nudged him with no particular vision, just a knowing.

He was running out of time.

CHAPTER 28

“Ta Aspecta’e Alta solis ísí Oë busquaer defendeo.”

(“To the Aspects Above alone shall you seek protection.”)

—Ora Fal’kinnen 15:6

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All around Mirana lay bodies—Fal’kin, Ken’nar, horses, grynwen—death contorting their limbs. Heaving bodies still locked in mortal combat whirled about her as she raced Ashtar past the battle lines. The faces of the dark forms struggling in the pounding rain only revealed themselves when lightning stabbed at the tormented sky or when amulets illuminated vanquishers and the vanquished. Rage, agony, terror, the brutality of war pierced her mind like lances.

... Lord Garis ... Where are you? ... Answer me ... she called.

Her Defending Aspect flared. What? Where? She looked around frantically for the threat. Without an amulet, she had no way of knowing for certain.

Arrows soared over her head. Ashtar veered, trying to avoid the lethal missiles, and threw her from her saddle with his sudden movement. She landed on a dead Fal’kin, his blood and bowels staining her leather armor. She cried out in horrified disgust and flipped herself over, away from the corpse. Out from the storm and the swirling fighters, an enormous dark mass slammed into her, driving her back down into the offal and the mud.

A grynwen gnashed at her throat with fangs longer than her fingers. She screamed and tried to push the beast from her with her arms and her Aspects, but the vicious carnivore outweighed her by five times. Hot saliva dripped from its maw onto her throat as its blood-red eyes narrowed with each snap of its jaws.

“I’ll not have you take another one of mine, you rackin’ cur!” a woman screamed.

A sword took the beast’s head from its haunches, spraying her with blood. She looked up.

Into the helmet of a Ken’nar warrior.

CHAPTER 29

“My help comes from the Aspects Above alone.”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

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“Run, Bankin!”

Teague dug his heels into his mount’s sides, willing her to charge faster. When he reached the southern causeway of the Anarath bridge, he found the far end packed with fighting bodies. There would be no crossing it.

Moments later, a hail of arrows shot through the air and pelted the ground around him. Bankin paced, terrified, uncertain in which direction to run.

Again, he raced toward the bridge, wildly dodging another flock of arrows. He searched for a Fal’kin unit fighting on the fringes of the Ken’nar column, intending to convince them to break off and save his parents and the herbsfolk. His horse stumbled, nearly throwing him again. He reined to a dead stop.

Bodies covered the entire southern plain. Torn standards of a red horse on a white field lay in the bloody mud. The guard from Varn-Erdal.

They had been killed. All of one hundred of them. Their bodies, gray forms in the dim predawn light, lay contorted on the wet ground. Grynwen gibbered in ravenous glee as they fed on the dead. In the damp air, shreds of fog swirled and crept across the fields like wraiths. His stomach clenched. Hardtack didn’t taste good coming up. Actually, it didn’t taste good going down, either. He fought to get his stomach under control between heaves.

The bridge remained locked in the grip of the Ken’nar, cutting off any escape for the Fal’kin.

Teague turned in his saddle toward the foothills. His breath dragged itself from his lungs, weighted with helplessness.

There would be no help for his mother and father.

CHAPTER 30

“The light of the Aspects will be my shield! My amulet, my sword!”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

––––––––

Kaarl ducked another Ken’nar blade.

Where were Morgan and Binthe when he needed them? Garis had ordered them out of action. Damn Tetric Garis. No. This time he could not blame the Trine. The healers were too important to lose.

... All units ... Concentrate fire full front ... Concentrate fire full front ... he called wide.

A riot of colored Fal’kin amulet fire erupted, washing over the Ken’nar. The dark warriors fell by the dozen. Kaarl and the Fal’kin charged from the land’s edge, pushing the Ken’nar line back east toward the open fields of the Ford valley.

He spied the tight knot of Desde’s Fal’kin battle seers on the ridge to the east. Her defender guard unit was embroiled in fighting. They would not last.

... Desde ... Fall back ... Fall back. ...

... Kin-Deren north guard ... Two enemy units ... Moving south-southeast ... His seer wife called to the Kin-Deren provincial army, ignoring his plea.

The unceasing onslaught of amulet fire from Kaarl’s Fal’kin herded the Ken’nar forces away from the bridge toward the open fields. He didn’t utter a prayer of gratitude yet.

A familiar presence brushed at his mind. “Steward Pinal.” He turned to see Morgan Jord riding toward him, his sword drawn, followed by Binthe Lima and thirteen other il’Kin.

He wanted to be relieved. He wasn’t. They had taken serious losses. “The healers?”

“Safe,” Binthe said, shaking her hair away from her face with a spray of rain and blood. She sucked in a breath as her emerald amulet suddenly brightened. “Down!”

He and Morgan both ducked, evading a hail of arrows. Embers singed the back of his neck as the projectiles turned to cinders by Fal’kin defender amulets.

He raised his head to thank the seer, but Desde’s mental cry cut off his response. He snapped his head up to the ridge. A dozen of her Fal’kin defenders attempted to stop the Ken’nar army as the monstrous infantry advanced from the south again and this time, merged with the remnants of the northern phalanx. The sons of grynwen whores had allowed themselves to be pushed east and had circled the edge of his forces.

Kaarl searched the battlefield for a way to get to her, or for an escape route he could call to her. Several Ken’nar punched through the Fal’kin line and rode straight for him, death on their minds. He thrust out his hand, sending one warrior flying from his saddle into his comrades. Morgan and the other il’Kin turned them into ash.

The Ken’nar poured onto the battlefield on Kin-Deren soil toward Desde. They surged unheeded through the weakened Fal’kin line, armored and mounted black spears through parchment. Her group was overcome and forced southward.

... Desde! ... he called.

Morgan followed his gaze. ... To the ridge ... he ordered the il’Kin, brandishing his sword.

Kaarl jammed his heels into the sides of his mount, charging east toward his wife. He would run through the Ken’nar bodily if he must to save her.

... All commands ... Ken’nar archers ... Moving north ... Desde called, her mind’s voice desperate.

He whipped his head around to look south. A column, one-thousand strong, rode toward him. Those racking maggots had split their unit yet again. The Ken’nar broke for the outside of the garrison to the west, along the land’s edge overlooking the river gorge, and attempted to create a perimeter. They would move to surround Kaarl’s forces.

The maneuver forced him to call off his charge toward Desde. ... Morgan, get her out of there ... he called to his friend and wheeled his mount around toward the surging southern phalanx.

If his Fal’kin could outrun the Ken’nar and make it south across the Anarath bridge, the southern Ken’nar might be drawn away from their northern phalanx—and Desde. It was more than risky. The bridge was exactly where he did not want to be. He couldn’t make more amulets, but maybe he could leave fewer Ken’nar for Dav Koehl, Liaonne Edaran, and what was left of the Fal’kin northern provincial unit. He gritted his teeth. If nothing else, they could hold the bridge for a retreat. If they could pull it off. If he could hold out that long. If.

Kaarl regrouped his provincial forces and charged to meet the remainder of the southern Ken’nar phalanx head-on. He gripped his amulet and downed one Ken’nar. He aimed for another, but the Ken’nar repulsed the strike with amulet fire of his own. Two provincial Fal’kin fighters went down. Another defender incinerated several arrows at once with her amulet, but there were too many. A lethal projectile found its mark in her neck. Soon, the air was alive with arrows.

... Desde ... Run ... Run! ... he called while deflecting the deadly missiles with his Aspect.

His wife and her dwindling guard raced toward his forces, the tattered remnants of the il’Kin guarding their backs. A blistering exchange from the Fal’kin opened the embroiled Ken’nar line for Desde and the others, but that frail victory only handed them another defeat. No one called the battle now. He cursed. Even if Desde and Binthe could handle all the communication for the harrowing fight themselves, they no longer had a vantage point.

Cold apprehension swallowed him as he searched the sodden, bloody battlefield for some advantage, some weakness in the Ken’nar lines he could use. The regrouped northern phalanx of the Ken’nar—now two thousand strong—curled around the western edge of the garrison, a wave in an ocean of black armor. Those from the east pushed back his line.

Searing pain scorched his back. He screamed in agony and fury as he wheeled his horse to face his attacker. The Ken’nar died from amulet fire and a pair of long knives.

Kaarl threw an arm around his wife as she reached him, nearly pulling her from her horse in his effort to embrace her. “Desde.”

She brushed her lips on his cheek. “Dav Koehl—” She panted, trying to recover her breath from the strain of her Sight. “He has fallen. Liaonne and Niall Corran, Dav’s second, are doing what they can with our northern provincial troops, but our line is gone.”

The southern contingent now drove straight for his forces.

Her words chilled him, his blood oozing like mud in his veins. “There is no one to stop the northern Ken’nar forces.”

... We will create a feint ...

The air surrounding him became alive with Fal’kin arrows. He smiled. They were an illusion. But the Ken’nar didn’t know that. ... We ride for Deren! ... He reached deep within himself, his power billowing in him, and his red amulet exploded in fury.

At a full gallop, his forces, at last, broke through the Ken’nar archer line as the dark warriors momentarily retreated against the image of an aerial barrage. Fal’kin amulets flashed like earthbound lightning to match the lightning in the heavens, and downed enemy fighters in waves. The diversion wavered as Desde and Binthe could no longer maintain the illusion of arrows. Real Ken’nar arrows forced them to focus on saving their own lives.

Kaarl dealt death for death with the dark-armored warriors, but for each one he cut down, another Ken’nar took his opponent’s place. The Fal’kin around him began to falter under the might of their enemy. Already, defenders were being forced off the Kin-Deren plain between the two bridges into the river chasm. They plummeted to their deaths far below as whole sections of earth fell away under from under their feet.

He swung his sword and fired unceasingly with his amulet, but he knew now it was useless. They were trapped.

CHAPTER 31

“Hand in hand, Hafen and Halen together opened the womb of their mother. Now, hands their hold swords, opening the floodgates of their mother’s heart.”

—The Book of Kinderra

––––––––

This bloodbath had gone on long enough. It was time to bring it to an end.

The Ain Magne was too experienced in the peculiar art of war to acknowledge victory while an enemy was cornered. Nothing fought more fiercely than trapped prey.

He reined his stallion to a canter behind the rear of his southern phalanx. He had the Fal’kin surrounded on the Anarath bridge. And in the center of his ever-tightening noose fought Kaarl Pinal. There was nowhere for him to run.

He clenched and relaxed the grip on his sword in an exceedingly rare moment of indecision. The steward would never accept his philosophy that both the Light from Within and the Power from Without merited benediction from the Aspects Above. No, Kaarl would not.

But his daughter would. He would make certain of it.

The Trine pulled in the essence of life from around him, savoring it as it filled him. He held onto it, letting build and grow within him to the point where his chest felt on fire. The milky, metallic crystal at his chest burned bright like flaming mercury. The decision made him both want to weep and shout in triumph. Kaarl Pinal had to die.

A rumble like that of distant thunder reverberated across the battlefield. Tremors vibrated up from the ground, up through the iron-shod hooves of his stallion, his dark-patinaed greaves.

“No.”

An unbidden vision exploded before his mind’s eye, stealing the Power from Without from his Defending Aspect.

Stone falls. Earth slides. A red curtain of light. The Anarath bridge. Consumed.

“No, you little fool! What are you doing? You’ll kill yourself!”

He dragged his horse’s head around and charged downriver, searching for a way to cross the swollen course.

CHAPTER 32

“My visions have disheartened me once again.”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

––––––––

... Now you die, Fal’kin bitch ... The Ken’nar defender woman called, her mind-words filled with bloodlust.

Mirana screamed. Before she could grapple for her long knives, the woman gurgled on a cry as a sword plunged through her neck and into her throat from behind.

Hot, red blood sprayed Mirana. She flailed to get out from under the ghastly shower as the Ken’nar’s body collapsed on top of her. With a shove, she pushed the corpse from her. She spat out blood that found its way into her mouth and wretched on her hands and knees, seeing nothing more than the dark form of her savior as he rode away.

She collapses to her hands and knees. Blood from the deep gash in her side drips onto the paving, the rain and sleet creating little red rivulets in the grout. Teague lies, unmoving. A sob of pain, of desolation, escapes her mouth as she slowly lifts her head.

“It is over, child. Give it to me.”

She shook her head to dispel the vision fragment. She had to move. She had to find Lord Garis. If she didn’t, Two Rivers Ford would be just the beginning. The Ken’nar would march, unstoppable, across Kinderra. The saving power of Jasal’s Keep, if it existed, would never be known. Teague would die. She would fail at the keep, at everything, if the Ford fell to the Ken’nar.

If the Ford fell.

She sucked in a breath. Her three Aspects rose sharply. They begged for release. Her heart was on fire. She swore she would not take an amulet and wreak the awful destruction she witnessed through her keep vision. But could she do something to save the Fal’kin? With an amulet? Now? If she did, would they remain alive by her hand, only to die by it later at Jasal’s Keep?

If she didn’t act now, the Fal’kin of an entire province would be wiped off the face of Kinderra. Her province. Her people. People whose lives she had already put in jeopardy.

Mirana scrambled back onto her horse, drawing his head toward the direction of the land’s end. “Ashtar! Run!”

CHAPTER 33

“And it shall come to pass that Kinderra will cry out in such agony as to deafen even Her birth.”

—The Trine Prophecy, The Book of Kinderra

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Mirana raced toward the river gorge. The first rays of the dawning sun stroked the Dar-Anar Mountains with red far off to the west as the storm exhausted itself. A lone star, Gabrial, shivered above the range’s crooked back.

Sharp metal cries of swords punctuated the agonized human cries of the wounded and the dying. Grynwen howls sang a brutal counterpoint to the hissing, pitched whistle of Ken’nar arrows. Horses and men and women screamed in rage, in terror. Her Defending, Seeing, and Healing Aspects rose, battled against one another for her control.

She charged Ashtar toward the apex of the Kin-Deren’s landmass between the two bridges, willing him to run faster than he ever had before. The Fal’kin were trapped on the southern bridge, Ken’nar in front and behind. They could not get off. They would either be slain where they stood or fall over the Ford’s edge into the river gorge as the land crumbled away under their feet. The very earth was perishing.

She dug her heels into her horse’s sides. An arrow screamed through the air. She cried out in pain as it raked down her back at an angle. The thick leather armor Binthe had lashed to her in those harrowing moments before her ill-fated Choosing Ceremony saved her life.

A deep groaning echoed through the Ford as though the land itself was in agony. The ground between the bridge arches could no longer bear the weight of so many. Weakened by the rain, it was crumbling. Dying.

Around her, the amulets of the dead glinted in the fading lightning as the storm left the battle in its wake. For summers, the thought of choosing an amulet had paralyzed her. The sacred bond between crystal and Aspect, answering her birthright as a Fal’kin, would unleash a destiny of unimaginable destruction through her. Someday.

... Mirana, please be safe ...

Father.

Hatred and love, both raw and pure, sieged through her.

If she did nothing at this moment the Fal’kin would be destroyed. She must act. Now.

Mirana thrust out her hand. A blood-red ruby amulet flung itself from the neck of a dead Fal’kin and hurled through the air into her waiting palm. She caught it and threw the thick golden chain over her head. The amulet fell heavy against her breastbone, pressing the edges of Teague’s delicate pendant into her skin.

The Trine Prophecy. She was the Thrice-cursed, sent to destroy. She would turn the Ford itself into a weapon of destruction. Maybe she would save the Fal’kin now so they would live to stop the Ken’nar once and for all in the future. Destroy. Rebuild. In one.

Maybe she was that one.

CHAPTER 34

“And thus Kinderra was sundered.”

—The Book of Kinderra

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Kaarl could not see. Thick black smoke from the blazing garrison billowed in the wind created by the flames themselves, obscuring his vision. The accursed Ken’nar had slathered their arrows with naphtha before lighting them. Even the rain would not put out that fire. He relied on his heightened defender’s senses to pick out the nearest of the incoming arrows, listening for the twang of bowstrings and the peculiar whistles made by the black fletching.

Grim satisfaction curdled in his stomach. He had been right. Columns from the merged northern Ken’nar forces had indeed followed him and his troops south. The Fal’kin, however, failed in their attempt to rout the Ken’nar off the southern bridge to the Sün-Kasalan plains just beyond. There were simply too many. They fought too tenaciously, leaving humanity behind as they struck. The only dismal good he could see was that the grynwen preferred to stay off the bridge, relishing instead the feast of the killing fields on the Ford valley’s plains.

Again, the eerie scream of Ken’nar arrows split the air overhead. He could move only so far, however, to avoid them. One false step, one unanticipated shove by some Ken’nar’s damned Aspect, and he’d fall off the southern Anarath bridge into the river chasm below.

Once more, Kaarl thrust his sword at a Ken’nar, dropping him from his mount, but he took a glancing blow on his own arm from the melee next to him. The bodies packed on the bridge made fighting all but impossible.

He wheeled his horse away from the combatants when a sharp pain drove through the back of his left shoulder. He cried as burning agony lanced through his arm. An arrow found its mark, slicing through an opening in his chain mail rent by a Ken’nar broadsword. The arrow’s head protruded forward from the thick part of his shoulder muscle. He turned to see more Ken’nar advancing behind him. Seething, he cursed and broke off the tip. He tried to reach back to pull out the remainder of the headless arrow, but the pain was too great. He would just have to cut down the damned Ken’nar with one hand.

He surged his horse forward, but his charger stumbled as its belly was cut open by the broadsword of a dying Ken’nar from beneath. He arched his body as he dropped to avoid slipping off the bridge. He screamed in pain and rage. Ignoring his wounds, he scrambled to his feet and released deadly fire from his amulet. Sawing agony sheared through his left shoulder as someone pulled the arrow shaft. He whirled around and gripped the vermilion garnet, centering himself to incinerate whoever dared to touch him. Part of the shaft broke as he turned, leaving a portion embedded.

Desde threw away the arrow fragment and reached down to him to help him to her horse. He thrust away the thought that he had almost killed his wife.

“Keep to the middle—” Her words were lost as a Ken’nar tried to drag her from her horse’s saddle. She slashed viciously at her attacker.

Binthe rode up behind the dark warrior and scissored both of her long knives under his helmet and across his throat. He choked a cry and fell over the bridge into the abyss below. A Ken’nar next to her made a wide, sweeping motion with her hand, throwing the seer from her mount. She screamed and disappeared under an onslaught of Ken’nar fighters.

Kaarl thrust out his good arm, wrapping his Aspect around the Ken’nar, and flung the warrior away from her as Morgan reeled his horse around.

“Binthe!” The young defender let out a cry of rage and released a wash of fire from his amethyst amulet. Five Ken’nar ceased to exist. She emerged from the ash, shaking, bleeding from a dozen cuts. He caught Morgan’s fleeting call to her, no words, only emotion.

Kaarl’s Defending Aspect again cried a sharp warning to him. “Morgan! Look out!” Two sets of hands tried to pull the il’Kin defender off his horse. Binthe swept wide with her hand, throwing one Ken’nar off the bridge, while Desde’s lightning-fast movements slashed at the other. As the warrior’s hands flew to his throat, she planted a booted foot into his stomach, sending him sprawling. The Ken’nar reached out in the last instant for Morgan but snagged the reins of the il’Kin defender’s horse instead. The women dragged him away as the Ken’nar fell to his doom, taking Morgan’s mount with them.

Kaarl had no time to embrace his friend. “Down!” he screamed and pushed his former lieutenant to his knees. Red fire arched from his amulet, striking a Ken’nar behind the younger defender.

Morgan rose wearily to his feet. “We need to get off the bridge. This is madness.”

Kaarl scanned the span, the pain in his shoulder momentarily forgotten. The Fal’kin had to fight their way clear.

He swung his sword at the Ken’nar warriors impeding their way but could not advance. Morgan sprayed the Ken’nar line with deadly purple fire from his amethyst. Kaarl lent his amulet fire to the young defender commander’s strike.

Ken’nar fell under their attack, but it was not enough. The southern phalanx kept coming and coming. The northern column herded all that was left of the Fal’kin forces onto the Anarath bridge and into the arms of the southern battalion. There was no room to move on the bridge, no room to fight, nowhere to run.

For the first time in a very, very long time, a tendril of fear wound its way through his mind. If they could not find a way off the bridge, they would die.

He was not afraid to die if it meant his daughter would live. That thought was the only thing that kept him going in the face of so much horror over the long summers. He’d be damned if the Dark Trine would take her while he still breathed.

“Diamond defense! Now!”

Standing back to back, he, Desde, Morgan, and Binthe created a defensive box. The defenders covered the seers with amulet fire while the seers slashed and stabbed at any who drew near.

Screams of terror rose above the battle as Fal’kin and Ken’nar fell off the bridge into the water far below. Even the very earth had turned against them, taking the Aspected of both sides with impunity as the soil washed away down into the river gorge.

Kaarl slashed at an attacker, but she danced just outside his reach. She toyed with him, coyly, almost seductively, her mind reaching out to his as she tried to draw his Aspects from him. She attempted to coax him out of formation toward her, coming nearly within arm’s reach of him. He pulled back, spitting an invective at her, and clamping down on his mind. She laughed in reply—her voice deep and rich and devoid of warmth—and taunted him now with her sword. That was a mistake. Her last. Morgan batted away her sword with his blade. Kaarl reached within himself and emptied his amulet on her. She died, screaming, in the shroud of the garnet’s scarlet fire.

He had no time to catch a breath. More Ken’nar moved in to take her place.

Kaarl thrust and feinted with his sword, but it was of little use. The diamond tactic was a defensive move. It afforded no way to spread outward into an offense without breaking the pattern’s security. It was a last stand. He was going to die.

... Mirana, please be safe ...

* * *

Mirana closed her eyes. The cries of the ruby around her neck became overwhelming as they shrieked against her own life’s music. She could no longer feel her body sitting in Ashtar’s saddle. Her reality became an all-encompassing resonance only her soul could hear. Her own life’s music oscillated through the flawless crystal while its vibrations rippled back to her. Her life’s song thrilled in harmony with the music of the ruby until the counterpoint fell away, note by note. At last, her life’s harmonics adapted and blended themselves to those of the ruby and it to hers. Disparate chords merged, and she cried out as a single, pure tone, a glorious unison, rose to a crescendo within her.

Mirana’s three Aspects joined together as one. Blood-red fire erupted from the amulet in a curtain of flame.

* * *

Teague felt it more than heard it—a rumbling from deep within the earth. It vibrated up through his mount’s iron-shod hooves. Moments later, a massive wall of red fire erupted in the dim pre-dawn light and hammered at the Ken’nar blocking the southern landing of the Anarath River bridge.

Instinctively, he threw up an arm to shield himself from the brilliant light. When the light dimmed, he lowered his arm. Where fighters once stood, now there were columns of fire. Hundreds. He shook in fear and shock. Was it the Dark Trine? The human pyres collapsed and the deafening screams silenced. The Fal’kin surged forward off the bridge, the Ken’nar behind them in pursuit.

Again, a curtain of red flame swept across the Anarath bridge, and again, he shied away from the intense radiance. He blinked his watering eyes to clear them. The sounds of the battle died away as the rumbling grew louder. A great swath of Ken’nar dropped from view as the bridge span on which they stood disintegrated into the chasm. Slowly, inexorably, whole sections of earth slid away.

Grynwen turned from their grisly feast of human carcasses at the light and thunderous crash, and fled in terror around him, baying in primitive fear.

Once more, the scarlet brilliance engulfed the Ford. He gasped. The northern Garnath bridge now curled away from its rock-hewn buttresses, dragging still more Ken’nar with it. Dust and screams rose from the ravine until they too disappeared.

He could not move, held captive by what he had just witnessed.

Two Rivers Ford was gone.

The massive wall of red fire. Was it the Dark Trine? Tetric Garis? No.

It was her.

“Mirana,” Teague breathed her name.

* * *

The Ain Magne raced his mount down the sodden banks of the overflown Anarath River, searching for a place to cross over to the Kin-Deren side of the garrison. Somewhere amid the seething masses of combatants was Mirana Pinal. He had to find her before she could attempt her foolhardy plan. The massive power she needed to condense to pull off her reckless act could kill her before she had a chance to release it.

The girl was crucial to his conquest of Kinderra. She was linked to Jasal’s Keep. Without her, the power that lay locked within would remain untapped. Kinderra would devolve into anarchy.

The Trine reined his stallion to a halt, the beast’s sides heaving with labored breathing. He frowned at the muddy, bloody river. He had no choice but to swim across the raging torrent to get to her.

“You don’t know what you’re trying to do, child.”

He clutched at his amulet and searched for the presence he had felt within her call in the Kana-Akün months ago.

Out of the waning night, a brilliant wall of red light enveloped the southern bridge.

... RETREAT! ... RETREAT! ... RETREAT! ... He called the order with so much force, his stallion reared in fear. It no longer mattered if the Fal’kin heard his command as well or not.

The Ain Magne let the amulet fall against his chest.

“Mirana. What have you done?”

* * *

Kaarl gripped his blade with both hands, swinging wildly at anything that moved. Morgan’s back pressed against his as the younger defender loosed violet flame over the encroaching Ken’nar.

... Desde ... Binthe ... Another seer’s feint ... Kaarl called. ... It might be our only hope ...

... I cannot spare— ... His wife screamed in pain. A point-blank strike from a Ken’nar amulet melted the chain mail on her shoulder.

“Desde!” With a fierce cry and sweep of his good arm, he sent the Ken’nar flying into a group of dark-armored warriors and plunging off the bridge to their deaths.

A wall of pure red flame burst forth out of the gloom, brighter than the coming dawn. It washed over the Ken’nar, devouring entire companies whole and tearing at the bridge itself.

He fell to his knees and shielded himself from the brilliant light. Under his feet, the earth trembled. He and hundreds of fighters, Fal’kin and Ken’nar, paused from fighting. Did the Ken’nar have some sort of new war machine spawned from the Underworld?

The ground shook violently again. He and Desde crouched while Morgan dropped to his knees, clutching Binthe to him. Ken’nar and Fal’kin screamed as they were thrown from the Anarath bridge into the abyss.

He was not about to waste the slim advantage of the Ken’nar’s distraction. “Forward!” he ordered as the bridge groaned, its buttress bones breaking.

He and the Fal’kin charged at the Ken’nar on the southern end of the bridge, determined to break their line and escape to the safety of solid ground.

Again, the scarlet wall of flame erupted out of the night. He dropped to his stomach and buried his face against his arms from the radiance. When he dared lift his head again, his eyes widened in fear and awe. Hundreds of Ken’nar had disappeared, instantly turned into ash.

... RETREAT! ... RETREAT! ... RETREAT! ...

Kaarl snapped his head to look over at his wife. “Who—?”

Desde shook her head, and Binthe did likewise.

The remnants of the southern Ken’nar contingent broke ranks and fled off the Anarath bridge as it began to crumble beneath them. They rode west to vanish into the Dar-Anar foothills and the blue-gray light of early dawn. The northern phalanx of the Ken’nar surged at the backs of the Fal’kin, then broke into a panic at the sight of the curtain of flame.

Kaarl scrambled to his feet. A jarring beneath his boots sent a shockwave up his legs. Cracks and fissures appeared in the stone of the bridge. Pieces of carved-granite buttresses and rock crumbled away, falling into the river gorge.

He, Desde, and the Fal’kin surged forward to flee the failing bridge. His wife stumbled as the death throes of the bridge made the way treacherous. He caught her with his Aspect and threw her from the bridge to the marginal safety of the landing. Morgan and Binthe grabbed Kaarl’s arms and pulled him off the span as it broke apart.

He immediately turned to reach for another Fal’kin, but the woman’s hand slipped through his. She fell, screaming, into the gorge.

“No!” Kaarl cried. He tried to reach out to her with his Aspect to stop her plummet and call her body back to him, but she had disappeared into the mists.

The ground trembled again. Strong hands pulled him back farther onto solid ground before he could plunge to his own death.

Again, the wall of pure red flame exploded, splitting the dim early morning light. The land holding the span disintegrated and fell into the chasm below. He reached for his amulet in terrified astonishment. The crimson gout of fire continued to beat against the land. The stone bridge gave one last death rattle, then slowly collapsed, struggling against its demise.

On and on, the massive red barrage of deadly light hammered into the Ford. What was left of the apex of the Kin-Deren landmass sheared away in a titanic landslide. Enormous sections of rock and earth broke apart and slid, now peeling away the northern Garnath bridge in the distance. Hundreds of Ken’nar plunged to their deaths, their terrified voices rising above the moaning earth. Moments later even the echoes of the dying silenced.

His hand fell heavily from his chest to his thigh. By the Light that surrounds all.

Desde knelt beside him. “Kaarl. What—?”

Fear snuffed out his overwhelmed wonder like a gale against a candle flame. The Dark Trine would stop at nothing to kill her now. She would become his obsession, and he would not rest until she was dead. His child. His tiny child.

Kaarl eyes burned with the afterimage of the massive wall of flame, but all he could see in his mind were a pair of silver eyes, so like his own.

“Mirana.”

CHAPTER 35

“I looked into the eyes of Death. And saw myself.”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

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Mirana cried in exultation as she unleashed a wall of red fire from the ruby amulet at her chest.

By the hundreds, Ken’nar were transformed into human pyres, then disappeared into ash.

... RETREAT! ... RETREAT! ... RETREAT! ...

The remnants of the southern Ken’nar phalanx broke ranks and ran for the Dar-Anar foothills.

She sensed the called order, but such mind-words no longer held any meaning. She no longer heard the screams of raging bloodlust. Her three Aspects became living powers submitting themselves to her supreme authority.

The Fal’kin charged, fleeing from the bridge, but the dark warriors at their heels cut them down as they tried to escape.

An enormous jet of red fire exploded again from her amulet. It writhed and snaked, hammering away at the stone buttresses supporting the southern Anarath bridge. They groaned and shuddered. Boulders and great portions of earth sheared away to fall into the rivers below. Raw power leaked around the ruby amulet onto her chest as she poured out more of herself than the crystal could contain. Her hands and the skin over her breastbone became streaked with burns. She cried out in pain and triumph. She was of the Aspects.

She was the Aspects.

Her Trine Aspects coursed through her and out of the ruby amulet onto the Ford, Seeing, Defending, Healing coalescing as one within her. The Anarath stone bridge shook once more, then collapsed, the span falling away into the abyss. The landmass apex joining the two bridges crumbled away and fell, faster and faster, as the avalanche tumbled into the river below. Earth and rock continued to slide, dragging the northern Garnath River bridge with them.

The remnants of the Ford fell tumbling into the twin river chasm below, carrying the Ken’nar to the same fate. The black-armored warriors who escaped her destruction rode north in a retreat, leaving their dead comrades to the coming dawn.

The amulet’s crystal now vibrated, unable to withstand her demand. It splintered into thousands of shards. She screamed in agony as the union between her Aspects and the ruby shattered, the sudden loss of the sacred connection irrevocably sundered. She slid from Ashtar’s saddle to the ground.

She tried to push herself up onto her forearms, then collapsed back to the wet, cold earth. The death of her amulet had shredded her soul. She writhed, her unfocused Aspects now immolated her from the inside, desperate to release themselves from the prison of her body.

A dark form moved within the flames of the garrison. It emerged toward her out of the fire. The spectral image appeared, a featureless black shade silhouetted against the swirling smoke and flames. It carried an impossibly long sword. It paused. Searching. Thinking.

The Ken’nar Dark Trine.

Mirana’s terror seeped away, profound resignation taking its place. The very sword of the blessed Thrice-cursed overlord himself would save Kinderra. At last, her beloved homeland would be spared from her becoming its instrument of death. She would now pay for the transgressions she had seen herself perpetrating before she could commit them. End and beginning, in one, in both.

Only two Trines would remain as the prophecy had always foretold—Tetric Garis and this Dark demon. She was never meant to play a role in the ancient prediction, but to be sacrificed so the prophecy could unfold as had been divined.

The shadow flew toward her, an avenging angel of the Underworld. She steeled herself for the sword’s plunge into her body.

... Without you, all is lost ...

She tried to respond when she convulsed once more in agony.

Strong arms lifted her as darkness took her.

CHAPTER 36

“U’isi sol kin scinane mor potem luveclae?”

(“Does not the sun shine brighter after a storm?”)

—Ora Fal’kinnen 123:30

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Two Rivers Ford was gone.

The Ain Magne stood in the mud, the flooded riverbank before him. His helmet slipped from his grip to fall with a squelch in the filth. His hands hung limply at his sides. The newly torn edge of land lay raw in the distance, now visible in the soft light of morning. Bloody water and silt lapped at his boots. Exhaustion and a despondency far more debilitating than fatigue vied for his strength. The Ford was destroyed, and no amulet, no sword, no fist would bring it back.

His plan had been perfect. His Ken’nar had outnumbered the Fal’kin more than two to one, and yet it was his own warriors who limped away, his regiments in tatters. He had split his forces and surrounded the Kin-Deren troops, yet he had lost three thousand men and women, a full one thousand when the bridges fell. Vallia Edaran should have been captured and harvested, using her viciousness for him, and yet her life’s song echoed no more from within the Aspects. Her daughter Liaonne should have been killed, and yet her presence still returned to his mind.

His plan had indeed been perfect. Mirana Pinal, however, had been more perfect. He should have foreseen this, all of this. He should have foreseen her. Every time he made his plans, she and her Trine Aspects somehow divined them. Ai, she was a Trine. He knew that now for certain.

He wanted to be angry. Oh, how he wanted to be. He had every right to be. He should strike her down with his vengeance and the fullness of his Aspects, not even leaving ash behind. Anger, however, would not bring back the Ford nor move his war machine to Deren.

Anger certainly wouldn’t give him something even more important than a thousand Fords: Jasal’s Keep and its awesome and terrifying power. Only Mirana could give him that. Once he had the keep, Kinderra would be his and this atrocious slaughter of continuous warfare would, at last, be over.

The Ain Magne stepped a few paces from the flood plain and sank to the muddy ground. He buried his face in his hands. He had pushed himself during the battle almost beyond even his limits, leaving him spent and empty inside. Calling a battle while hidden under the cloak of U’Nehíl to the minds of his field marshals was taxing. Healing was taxing. Harvesting Aspected warriors was taxing. The procedure had drained him to his core. He would soon have aid in harvesting, however. That was perhaps the one feeble success of this contemptible campaign.

He let his hands fall away. They were covered in blood as was his armor, as was his sword. Some of it was his own. Most of it was not. Such a needless, senseless waste.

He reached for his amulet and pulled deep within himself for his Aspects. Not enough of the living surrounded him to allow him to draw upon the Power from Without.

Two Rivers Ford was gone, but the Aspects Above never took away anything without giving something back in return. That was an edict he believed in more fervently than the expectation that the sun would rise each morning. Had the Aspects Above taken the Ford from him to guide him toward a new future?

He called to his Seeing Aspect—and this time he smiled.

Images flashed through his consciousness. His victory had not been stolen from him by a woman-child. No. Instead, she only brought it one step closer.

He still had thousands of men and women, siege towers, catapults, and battering rams. Ai, an easy land route for his war machine was gone, but another one still existed. It would be more difficult, ai, but far shorter in distance. He needed steeds for his Ken’nar, perhaps now more than ever, to make up for the time he would lose with the difficulty of this new crossing. The conquest of Deren, however, had not changed, only its timing. If he moved swiftly, the losses the Fal’kin took at the Ford would work in his favor.

And if he left Mirana Pinal alive after this destruction, it could place a wedge further between his seer second and himself.

The Ain Magne pursed his lips. His servant wanted her dead, but the young seer had yet to realize her importance. He held his amulet tighter. His seer second remained critical to his plans. Though his most loyal servant, his second also posed his greatest risk. He knew his servant regarded him as a mentor, a patrua, even a father figure. He used those feelings to ensure that loyalty. But everyone, even his second, had a breaking point. If the seer continued to view the girl as a rival, this could become an issue, perhaps even a fatal one.

An even darker thought curled its way through his mind. The Ain Magne had come to power himself by earning the trust of one of the most dreaded Ken’nar warlords to have walked Kinderra—then killed him. The man was a despot and cared nothing for Kinderra or bringing peace to her.

What would happen when his second did finally come to understand Mirana as the key to conquering Kinderra? If his seer second and the Pinal girl united and conspired against him, he would have to make choices he did not even want to contemplate. For his plans to succeed, he needed both his second and the girl—and their undying loyalty. To him.

Jasal’s Keep flared once again before his mind’s eye, an otherworldly impression wrought by his Seeing Aspect. It exploded with unspeakable power and, once again, the image faded into Mirana’s face. The young Trine was linked to the keep and, for that reason alone, he had allowed her to live. He had meant to use her to gain Jasal’s Keep, then dispose of her. Her potential as a rival was too dangerous to allow her to remain alive forever.

He winced as a patch of skin on the side of his forearm pulled away from a bit of melted chain mail, leaving a raw wound.

What if the girl was not a rival, however? What if he, instead, shaped and forged her into a weapon to be used for him?

He rubbed his hand over the injury. The dark jewel at his chest glowed and the wound disappeared.

Another Trine by his side presented advantages he had not considered. An innocent, young Fal’kin girl who embraced his philosophy might be able to convince the Fal’kinnen to lay down their arms for the good of the land. If she could see that noble future herself and her place within it, she could show the Fal’kin the beauty and worthiness of his designs.

Legend said Deren could not be conquered. The Ain Magne did not believe in absolutes, save for the Aspects Above themselves. Despite the destruction of the Ford, had he not cut down Kin-Deren’s Fal’kin nearly to a man? Without the province’s Fal’kin, the citadel’s battlements would pose but a minor obstacle, and not even that if he held the keep.

He pursed his lips. Ai, controlling Jasal’s Keep would not only give him Deren but the whole of Kinderra. For Kinderra to remain his, however, would require a force even more powerful than fear: love.

The Fal’kin would love Mirana Pinal, adore her as an instrument of peace. She would become the symbol of true unity in a new Kinderra. He would head a glorious new Aspected Triumvirate—he at the crown, Mirana on his right, his seer second on his left—leading Kinderra into a new age of enlightenment. That day, that age, however, was still far off, with many tenuous skeins needing to be woven before such a future could unfold.

The Ain Magne rose slowly out of the mud. Bodies surrounded him. Thousands of them, Ken’nar and Fal’kin, a rotting carpet of rent flesh. He finally gave in to the anger welling up in him. The waste! The needless, senseless, waste! And for what? So one people’s path to the Aspects could be proven superior over another’s beliefs?

He looked down at the inert form by his feet and closed his eyes. A wave of sadness washed through him again, defeat threatening to return. So very much death.

The Trine girl did not know him yet. She did not understand the importance of her power, not truly. She would, in time. She must. Jasal’s Keep was too important. Kinderra was too important.

The Ain Magne hated killing, detested it, but he hated failure most of all.

Mirana Pinal must come to understand him. She must. Or the ultimate failure of death would be the only fate left for Kinderra.

CHAPTER 37

“Nöc ten runh’e thet ain vidé bé dië. Per the etís verdas u’len quen bia eta ain u’comprende len.”

(“The night holds secrets that can only be revealed by the dawn. But then there is hard truth when before there was only gentle ignorance.”)

—Ora Fal’kinnen 123:56–57

––––––––

Teague shivered despite the sweat that coated his limbs. The day had dawned clear, a beautiful one, really. Dewdrops on the grass glinted in the morning sunlight. After the night’s storm, the air was balmy and fresh.

Except, that is, for the stench of death.

Five mutilated bodies lay on the ground below him, next to his horse Bankin. They didn’t look much like bodies anymore, but they were. He knew of such things now. Ash darkened the ground, too. Ash that had been bodies.

A strange numbness pervaded him, a sort of disassociation between his brain and his body. Nothing held any meaning or emotion. His stomach heaved now and then, but food had left him long ago. Not even much bile came up anymore. It struck him that all of his symptoms might be the slightest bit concerning. He might even be in shock.

He stared at the bodies. His parents were gone. Mirana was gone.

He thought he might have had ridden in search of his beloved during the early hours before dawn, but he could have dreamt it. No, no, he had looked for her, he remembered now, traveling as far as the Great Anarath River itself. He had been on the Sün-Kasalan side of the river with no way to cross back over. The Ford bridges were now gone, too, and the rains had swollen the already wide river. He had tried to find her, but she was gone.

He thought he might have tried to help a few wounded while searching for her. He was less sure of that. Those memories were fuzzier, more disjointed, like half-forgotten nightmares. He had never seen battle before. He had never seen what swords, knives, amulets, and hatred did to a body. Not this close, anyway. He had never held a dying person before, either. Sometimes they just slipped away. Other times, their deaths were less peaceful. Or had he just dreamt that? Surely, people who had once been living could not have made sounds of such abject agony? Or done incomprehensible things like try to stuff their own bowels back into their bodies before they collapsed, unmoving? That couldn’t have been real. Could it?

At some point, he must have decided to ride back west to the mouth of the Kabaarh Pass in the Dar-Anar foothills in search of his parents. He must have gotten back here somehow. It was the last place he had seen them. Maybe his parents were still waiting for him. There were bodies on the ground before him. Or not.

He had no idea which way they would have gone. His parents. Mirana. She left no trace, her or Lord Garis. There was no trace of anyone. Anyone living, that is. Nothing moved. Even the bodies in front of him now had stopped jerking. Sometimes corpses made movements, the normal but disturbing ones bodies made when passing from death to decay. He had read about that but had never seen it before. Until now.

Had she ridden off with Lord Trine Garis? She could have made it, escaped. Or not. No, no, she made it. Lord Garis knew how special she was. Ai, they escaped.

The massive wall of red fire. It was Mirana. It had to be. Maybe she escaped that brilliant curtain of light.

He had tried to find a way across the river, to Mirana, but he could not. She was a Trine. He was anything but. He had no way to reach her now.

Mirana. She was gone.

Five bodies lay right there in front of him, three herbsfolk and two Ken’nar. Right there. He should get down from his horse and position their arms and legs in a more respectable repose. At this point, though, their limbs would probably be frozen stiff with death. His parents were gone. Some ash had clumped on the grass. A lot of ash. Probably the ash from several people.

Maybe this was his new life now, to be surrounded by endless death, stretching to the horizon. Ash, bodies, pieces of bodies, flesh not even recognizable as having been part of a body.

Teague leaned low over the saddle and wretched again, spitting out bitter saliva.

He listened for voices. All was still. That wasn’t completely true. Now and then, a raven crowed, and a moan lifted into the air from somewhere, echoing through the pass where he sat on Bankin. It could be the breeze through the wet grass. It could be a man or woman dying. It could even be coming from his own lips.

Gente’e morte u’dici u’bendicta. “Dead men cannot curse,” battle-hardened defenders joked. Now, he got it. He huffed a laugh. It sounded more like a sob, but he’d call it a laugh anyway.

Teague slipped off Bankin’s saddle. His legs crumpled under him, their strength abandoning him. He sat in the wet grass.

His stomach clenched again. Nothing came up, so he ended up making animalistic heaving sounds. Maybe the moaning had come from him?

He should dig a grave and bury the bodies, but he had nothing with which to dig. Build a funeral pyre? He had no way of starting a fire, and everything was still sodden from the night’s rain. Well, rain, and blood. He certainly couldn’t release amulet fire. He was Unaspected. Ungifted. Sightless. Worthless.

A raven landed nearby. He wobbled to his feet and dug through the ash for something to throw at the bird. His fingers touched a round object. One of their amulets. His heart banged in his chest as he grasped it.

It was a kneecap.

He let it fall.

Two more ravens flew in. He spied a small jar within the ash and picked it up. He cocked his arm, ready to throw it, then paused. It was a tiny alabaster medicine jar, not much larger than an egg. Etched into the jar’s surface was a leopard. The standard of Tash-Hamar. Maithe.

How many of his cuts and scrapes had she gently daubed with some of the jar’s numbweed salve because he hated being healed with the Aspects? She understood. Unless it was serious, she let him heal on his own. He had learned to bear pain, physical and otherwise, particularly well.

His mother had told him she carried the jar with her when she was a little girl sent from Tash-Hamar to Kana-Akün to learn to be a Fal’kin healer, and every day since. She would never leave it behind.

With his fortitude and Mirana by his side, he could withstand just about anything. But she had left his life. Only his resilience remained.

What did it matter? For summers and summers, their entire lives, she had said his lack of Aspects did not matter to her. He was fool enough to have believed her. He was a fool to have believed they might have had a future together. That he could make her his wife, provide for her, care for her, protect her from the demons only she saw.

He’d been a fool to believe she loved him.

Had she lied to him all this time? Or had she, at last, come to her senses? She had finally seen him for what he truly was—a worthless Sightless piece of excra the Aspects Above cared so little about they even forgot to end his life.

How many summers had he pleaded, begged the Aspects Above to give him just one ounce of their power? He was useless to her. She told him so. She had cut him off from her like a diseased limb. He was useless to everyone. His parents. They were gone.

No, that was a lie. His parents were not gone. They were dead. Like Mirana’s love.

She had left him because she was a Trine and he was Unaspected—the river, the divide, the chasm between them was just too wide to cross. He had known it. He had always known it. All his life, he had hoped, somehow, it wasn’t true. Hope. There was another word for hope. Denial.

A sob escaped his lips, a childlike, frustrated, angry, pathetic noise.

With leaden feet, Teague turned back to his gray mare Bankin. “White Light” her name meant in the Old Tongue. What cruel irony that the horse he rode was named for the very thing that separated Mirana from him. She chose to hold on to an insubstantial vision of terror instead of him and all his physical reality. His complete and utter lack of Aspects made it impossible for him to show her otherwise.

He stumbled. A Ken’nar broadsword.

The blood of defenders from his father’s lineage flowed in his veins, if only a drop of it. His mother’s family gave rise to some of the most powerful battle seers Kinderra had ever known. And his parents? His parents were healers, possessing the rarest, most precious Aspect of all. Only Trines were more treasured. The Aspects Above could have given him any one of these gifts. Instead, they chose to ignore him completely.

Something hot began to boil in his belly. Not battle trauma, not anymore. Not soul-wrenching grief. Anger? Maybe even rage? Was this what rage felt like?

Teague hefted the broadsword, gripping the hilt with both hands. It was very heavy. The dark metal did not gleam in the sunlight but seemed to absorb light into its patina. The particular alloy the Ken’nar used for their blades and armor made the metal dark and nearly impervious. He tested the blade with his thumb. Even scraping across it, it sliced his thumb. He sucked at the blood.

He could not heal, but he had the knowledge his parents gave him of how the body worked. He had no sight, but he could now tell Ken’nar from Fal’kin on the battlefield. He had no Defending Aspect, but he had a sword.

They said Ken’nar blades could cut through chain mail. He hoped they, whoever they were, were right. He would bring down the Dark Trine, somehow, even if he had to give his own sightless, defenseless, worthless life to do it.

CHAPTER 38

“Kin il’Aspecta’e Alta vidé ad gente Oëme crearé, per Oëme u’placreé, fár eta u’gente defende tuda il’Crearae.”

(“The Light of the Aspects Above looked at the people They created, but They were not pleased, for there was no one to protect all of Creation.”)

—il’Crearae (The Creation), Ora Fal’kinnen 1:11

––––––––

Kaarl squinted at the sky. It was approaching noon. They needed to move on.

Desde had regrouped what Fal’kin were still alive and immediately marched them to the Sün-Kasalan plains, south of what had been the Two Rivers Ford garrison. They would let their troops rest for a little while longer, then continue southeast along the river until nightfall.

They would try to cross the Anarath River into Kin-Deren over the shallows of the Stairs of Anar before it fell away into rapids. They didn’t have much of a choice. It would take days to reach the trader ferries farther downstream. He must move the Fal’kin onto Kin-Deren soil as quickly as possible. Deren lay completely undefended at the moment. He prayed what Ken’nar had retreated from the Ford hadn’t made straight for the city. Like so many of the thoughts sliding through his mind, he thrust this one away, too, blocking it like a Ken’nar blade.

He began to fold his arms, but quickly released them as the pain in his left shoulder flared. Most of Desde’s defenders had sustained wounds, but no one could find the healers. She sent a small patrol into the foothills where Morgan had said he had last seen them.

With any luck, the same number of Fal’kin that marched with them today would be with them when they reached home. Luck, however, was capricious in war. The only certainty in war was uncertainty.

He held the hand of his good arm across his brow against the bright sun and studied the swollen river’s current. He hoped it would let up by the time they reached the shallows.

Now and then, arrows, a body, or some other detritus left from the battle would float past. Each time, stark terror would attempt to slash through his resolve.

... Mirana ...

Still no call returned to him.

Ignoring his wounds and his fatigue, he had spent the remainder of the night and well into the morning searching for any sign of his daughter or Tetric Garis. They somehow vanished into thin air.

Part of him wanted to give in to the almost giddy sensation of relief that his daughter had escaped the fray with Garis. Another part, a tiny yet terrifyingly tenacious part, embedded a question in his brain that would not leave him.

The memory of the wall of deadly red fire and the Ford collapsing into the abyss swelled in his mind. It was Mirana. She saved their lives. Intuition as her father, not even born of his Aspect, told him so. The Ford’s destruction had to have been mediated with an amulet. She must have chosen one, at last, the courage he knew she possessed strengthening her in the end.

He had no proof, of course, that it was her. It could have been Garis. His amulet, however, was not red. It was hematite, an infernal thing spat a jet of silver fire tinged with black. The Trine could have chosen another amulet to use for some reason. It could have been the Dark Trine himself, seeking to annihilate the Fal’kin on the Ford bridges and ending up making a catastrophic mistake. Or, even more hideous, the warlord had so little regard for life, he had sacrificed his troops so no one could use Two Rivers Ford, rather than let it stay in Fal’kin hands.

Kaarl gripped his amulet, this time holding it to give him the strength to push back emotions threatening to overtake him.

For sixteen summers, he had done everything he could to keep his daughter’s Trine Aspects a secret—he and Desde both—even hiding the knowledge from the girl herself. They had meant to protect her from the Dark Trine.

They should have known, in time, she would figure out her gifts. For so many summers, he had hoped she would not. He had dreaded waiting for the day when she would come to them with her revelation. When that day never came, he was as relieved as he was guilty. When she did finally admit to her Trine Aspects, the war and Garis took her from him, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

He would never let Desde share the blame. She had wanted to tell Mirana everything so many times. He refused, insisting on their silence. It was denial, plain and simple. He had been so terrified his precious child would be taken from him, like so much else in his life, he caused the very thing he had tried to prevent.

In the end, all their secrecy had amounted to nothing. Their lies only sent her to Garis, a man who sought to take his il’Kin from him, a man who sacrificed Kaarl’s troops in the name of the greater good. A man who saved Mirana’s life. A man whom he depended on still to keep her alive.

He gripped his amulet harder, feeling its edges press into his palm. Garis, as the Light Trine of the prophecy, was most likely a target of the Dark Trine as well. Yet, only the Dar-Azûlan wielded enough power to protect Mirana from the Ken’nar overlord. That served as some consolation—if he could call it that.

The sunlight dappled on the fast water. It sparkled like his daughter’s eyes when she laughed.

“Do not take my child from me. I beg thee, O Aspects Above.”

He let go of his amulet, sank to his knees on the soft ground on the riverbank, and covered his face with his hands, letting the pain in his shoulder add to his grief.

A warm presence drew near him. Desde knelt beside him and rested her forehead on his uninjured shoulder, entwining her arm through his. He turned and brushed his lips on her head. Tears trailed down the curve of her face. For a long time, he simply held her hand.

He took a slow inhale and let it out just as slowly. “I have a gift for you.” He reached into his belt pouch and held out the short stub of the arrow shaft that had remained in his shoulder.

She took it and groaned in disgust. “I can add it to the collection.” Her eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. “Did she come back? Is Mirana back? Her Healing Aspect. Did she heal you?”

Kaarl shook his head. “Binthe. She can do nothing about wounds, but she can use her Seeing Aspect to find embedded arrowheads and sword tips to remove them. She has saved many il’Kin with her gentle hands when no other help could be found. I do think the Aspects Above gave her the wrong gift with her tender spirit.”

“Her grandmother Eshe saved her life by sending her away from Rün-Taran, even by becoming an il’Kin battle seer. No one should have had to witness what happened to one’s parents as she did.” Desde tossed the arrow shaft stub into the river and watched it float on the water for a moment. “Eshe will need her back soon, I fear. She is old, older than my father. She did not look well last Quorumtide.”

She sat back on her heels and rubbed her face with her hands. The perfection of her long, elegant fingers was marred by cuts, bleeding from Ken’nar blades and her own. She slid her hands down to hug her arms, wincing as they brushed against the burn on her shoulder.

Kaarl took one of her torn, elegant hands in his. ... She will be all right, Ëi ama ...

She laughed darkly. “You are telling a seer the future?”

“No, I am trying to comfort a mother.”

“Did we make the right decision? All those summers of secrecy?”

He was no longer certain. “She’s still alive, isn’t she?” He meant the question to be a rhetorical one. Instead, he accidentally—or maybe not—had given voice to that terribly tenacious question in his mind. His wife avoided answering him for the same reason. “We would know it. We would know.”

She nodded. “She was right, you know. About the Trine Prophecy. None of our scriptures, philosophies, or writings mention three Trines. Only once before in recorded history has there been two Trines in power at the same time. I fear for what this means.”

He swallowed, the action sounding loud in his ears. “You don’t actually believe she could become—?”

“No. Never. I fear it means Tetric may not last.”

He frowned and nodded. As long as he lived long enough to see Mirana safe. His wife sat back from him, having heard his thought. “I’ve never been so uncharitable as to wish him ill.” Mock surprise momentarily erased the worry on her face. “Well, not truly, Desde, but I don’t want the man to die.” His expression turned serious. “If he does, there will be no one to protect her.”

“Unless she has never been a part of the prophecy at all. What if it always has been about Tetric and that Ken’nar monster? What if she is the one who is meant to die so Tetric will live to vanquish him? What have we done? Oh, Kaarl!” His wife deflated into his embrace. Her body shook in his arms with racking sobs. “We pushed her away. We pushed her right into the Dark Trine’s blade. My Lightness!”

He held Desde, rocking her gently. He let her vent the fear and the grief for both of them.

Binthe and Morgan approached. The fact that these two still breathed was about the only peace he could hold in his heart at the moment. He brushed his lips against Desde’s hair and helped her to her feet.

“Any sign of Mirana?” Kaarl asked, while his wife turned from them to compose herself.

Binthe’s eyes rested on Desde for a moment. “We looked everywhere. The riverbanks are flooded. We found no tracks.”

“I tried to swim back over to the Kin-Deren shore to search there, but the current was uncooperative,” Morgan said.

Kaarl suppressed a grin at his friend’s attempt at humor. Binthe, however, apparently found his comment anything but humorous.

“You washed downstream and nearly drowned. I had to call you back with the Aspects.”

The young defender commander gave her a wan smile, then shook his head. “I could find no sign of her, but I will keep looking.”

Desde turned to face the il’Kin. Except for the moisture on her cheeks, no sign remained of her grief. “What of Niah and Tennen?”

“Nothing,” Morgan said. “This might be a good sign, though. For all of them. We have no evidence whatsoever anyone has been harmed. And Tetric Garis is—”

“Lord Garis is Lord Garis,” Liaonne Edaran said. Kaarl turned as the Varn-Erdalan woman walked over to them. “I think he surprises even the Aspects Above themselves sometimes. Steward, Prime Kellis Pinal.” She gripped his wife’s forearm in greeting.

Desde held the defender woman’s forearm. “Liaonne.”

Kaarl did likewise. Liaonne had only seen twenty-five summers, but she fought like no defender he had ever known. The young woman who stood before him now, however, appeared more like a caricature of the strong-willed Varn-Erdalan he knew. A hollowness lay in her sienna-brown eyes, replacing the ferocious intensity which normally dwelt there.

“My heart weeps for the passing of your mother, noble Vallia,” Desde said. “You now carry an enormous burden as prime, one which was handed to you by violence and not by a peaceful passing such as how my elevation was initiated.”

“It is a difficult burden regardless of how one receives it. I have never had the privilege of watching you in battle, Desde. My estimation of battle seers has changed.”

Kaarl glanced at his wife. She gave the defender woman a curt nod. Binthe’s face remained placid with a faint smile, but he wasn’t all that surprised. He knew the il’Kin battle seer well. It took far more than a vague insult to release her ire.

Liaonne fidgeted for a moment. “Forgive me, I do not have my mother’s way with words, so I shall be direct. I need Kin-Deren’s help.”

“We will offer you whatever aid we can,” Desde replied.

“I need defenders. Other than a handful of old seers who have never called a battle, I have no Fal’kin. Even my hall sentries are now dead. I have two defender scholaire’e who might be ready for Choosing, but the rest are children. Most have not even seen twelve summers. The unending skirmishes with the Ken’nar over the recent summers have left us weaker than we’ve ever been. We are a hall of brepaithe’e and biraen’e.” She paused, then took a breath. “I am asking for a cleaving.”

“A cleaving?” Desde blinked. “Take half my Fal’kin? Permanently? I have none to spare. Look around you.” She spread her arms wide. “This is all that remains to safeguard my own province. Liaonne, you may ask anything of me but this.”

“There is more to consider,” Morgan said. “With a cleaving, you might as well have a clarion announce to the Dark Trine your vulnerable situation, and Kin-Deren’s, too.”

“He already knows,” Liaonne replied, exasperation coloring her hard alto voice. “The Dark bastard had to have been at the Ford. The calling of that massacre had to have been from his diseased mind. If it hadn’t been for Lord Garis destroying the bridges, all of us would have been lost.” She clenched her hands to calm herself.

Kaarl’s eyes went wide. “Did you see him? Garis? Did you see him destroy the Ford?”

Liaonne shook her head and straightened in surprise at his emphatic questions. “Well, no. But who else could have done that?”

His wife took a deep breath before she answered. “It was Mirana.”

He stiffened at her response, then let his shoulders fall. There was no point in keeping the secret any longer.

Liaonne scowled. “Your daughter? I remember her bitter words in the command tent—it’s true? She is a Trine?”

“Ai.” It was such a simple word, yet it was the most difficult one he had ever spoken.

“Then I need her. One does not have to be a seer to know Edara will be the Dark Trine’s next target.”

Binthe fingered her amulet. “We believe his true goal is Deren.”

“That may be, but he won’t get there without conquering Edara. Varn-Erdal province is the last point of resistance in the northern half of the continent.”

“You may be correct, Liaonne,” Desde said. “He has the forests of Kana-Akün to build his war machines. Without Two Rivers Ford, he will have a long, slow march overland, but he will not wait forever. He will need to mount his men now to make up for lost time and turn his infantry into a cavalry.”

The young defender prime nodded. “Then you understand my situation. He means to go after my horses.”

The seers were correct. Kaarl had expected the Dark Trine to make a play for Deren, and he would, but not yet. Varn-Erdal bred the most prized warhorses on the continent. With Vallia and most of Varn-Erdal’s defenders now dead, the province’s capital city of Edara and its fabled horses were ripe for conquest.

“Unless you honor my cleaving, I will not be able to turn him back. Protection of the south will then be on Kin-Deren’s shoulders alone.”

He cursed under his breath. Liaonne was not exaggerating. If Varn-Erdal fell, Kin-Deren would soon as well. Neither province had enough defenders to repel any serious attack. With Kana-Akün under Ken’nar control, and Trak-Calan too far and too small to send any substantive aid, the Dark Trine would effectively hold the entire northern half of the continent. Much of Kinderra’s population, to say nothing of her food crops and resources, lay south of the Anarath River. Granted, the southern provinces had the largest complements of Fal’kin, but the collateral damage in the wake of a Ken’nar onslaught would be catastrophic. The whole continent could starve. If Kinderra was to survive, Edara and Deren would have to survive as well.

Kaarl sensed his wife’s emotions spike then slip back under her control. She was in an untenable spot. If she gave away half her troops, they would be made even more vulnerable, if that was possible. It was unlikely Liaonne could withstand a direct assault of any sizable force even if she had five hundred defenders. The Fal’kin Deren needed so badly were likely to be sacrificed at Edara, yet the citadel at least had its walls and gates. Edara had little more than wooden ramparts.

“I do not intend for Varn-Erdal province be left defenseless,” Desde said. She then turned from the group and walked a few steps away.

“Desde?” He went over to her. Eyes closed, she cupped her topaz amulet, and golden light leaked from between her fingers. “Ama?” He placed his hand on Desde’s back. She was invisible from within the Aspects. Whatever she was thinking, she did not even want him to know.

“I cannot give you half of my Fal’kin, Liaonne,” she said at last and turned back around.

Liaonne tensed as if an amulet had struck her. “What?”

Binthe shook her head in astonishment. “You cannot refuse her, Ëi siba. The other primes will take note. If you do, Kin-Deren may find herself alone when she needs aid.”

The young defender prime stepped in close to Desde, standing toe to toe. “I am begging you, woman. Do you not understand both of our provinces are in mortal peril?”

“I will give you twenty-five,” she replied.

“Twenty-five?” Liaonne’ laughed in disbelief. “Twenty-five? I need at least a hundred.”

“No. You need at least three thousand. As do I. But we do not have that many. Only the southern provinces have those numbers, but they are too far to come to aid either of us, and time is short. Less than two hundred of my Fal’kin survived. I, too, have nothing left but children.”

Kaarl now sensed Desde’s resolve growing stronger, along with her dismay. Whatever she was planning, it terrified her. Very little frightened his wife like this, and that made him concerned. So much so, his Defending Aspect began to smolder within him. “We will send riders south. Perhaps Sün-Kasal or Tash-Hamar or even Jad-Anüna will help.”

Liaonne gave a derisive laugh. “Sün-Kasal. I have sat in Quorum enough as a prime’s second to know Sahm Klai is an obstinate isolationist. It would take me a sevenday of sevendays to convince the defender prime. It would take at least that long for any defenders from Tash-Hamar to reach Edara, even if Prime Fasen Aldi would agree to give them to me. I do not have that kind of time. Jad-Anüna lies so far east from Varn-Erdal, Prime Nambre Dinir has the luxury of pretending to be ignorant of what goes on in this land. The last time the Jad-Anünans came out in any sizable force I had yet to hold an amulet. As much as I do not wish to take my mother’s seat, Varn-Erdal lies leaderless, and the Ken’nar who attacked us here at the Ford may already be planning their strike on my province. I need to move now.”

“I can give you twenty-five now,” Desde said, “but I will bring you more before the Ken’nar attack Edara. Many more.”

“How? Do you intend to make Fal’kin out of clay?”

His wife gave the young defender prime an intense stare. “I am asking you to trust me.”

“I trust you will try, Ëi siba. I do not trust you will succeed.” Liaonne nodded a farewell and left to prepare for her ride north.

Kaarl witnessed the devastation in Liaonne’s face at his wife’s decision. He would not have wanted to wait for help either. He also knew the offer was the best Desde could make under the circumstances.

Tetric Garis’s desire to become Primus Magne came back to him. Maybe Kinderra was that desperate. Even as Primus Magne, though, he would need fighters. Not even three hundred remained between the two provinces. Even the il’Kin were effectively gone. Well, almost gone. Morgan said something quietly to Binthe as he watched the Varn-Erdalan woman leave.

“I can give Varn-Erdal a few more Fal’kin.” Kaarl smiled at the pair.

“Do you understand what you are doing if you order us to Varn-Erdal?” Binthe asked.

It was not a question at all. It was a protest, but since the il’Kin were bound by the Quorum steward’s directives—his directives, now—it was as much of a protest as the young battle seer could make.

Desde shook her head. “By giving up Morgan and Binthe to Liaonne, you’ll dissolve the il’Kin.”

He nodded slowly. “Ai. The il’Kin have always served Kinderra whenever and wherever she needed them. That has not changed.”

“He is right,” Morgan said. “That duty hasn’t changed even if I were to stand alone. And Varn-Erdal was my home. For five summers.” Binthe touched the back of Morgan’s hand with her fingertips.

Kaarl turned to the young seer woman. “Binthe?”

Desde held up her hand, silencing her before she could answer him. “Binthe needs to go home. Her bremaithe needs her.”

“Maybe the il’Kin exists in little more than in name only, but we do exist,” the young seer said, determination hardening her sea-green eyes. “The steward elevated Morgan as defender commander of the il’Kin. Where he goes, I go. Edara needs a battle seer. Rün-Taran does not. Not yet.”

“Dav Koehl fell,” Desde pointed out. “The Ken’nar swarmed him like vultures. They didn’t even leave a body behind. I elevated Niall Corran to defender commander. He will need a good defender second at his side. Morgan was born to Kin-Deren province. I will need him to help lead what’s left of my provincial troops.”

Kaarl gave his wife a roguish grin. “Maybe I know of another defender born to Kin-Deren who is more or less unemployed at the moment.”

Desde put her hands on her hips, not amused at all. “You cannot. You are Steward of the Quorum of Light.”

“Even I have to accept the state of the il’Kin,” he replied, serious this time. “Your father was steward and still held his role as prime and seer. I am a defender. I will defend. The steward’s office is sworn to negotiate between provinces, assisting in their needs. I have done that. Varn-Erdal needs fighters. I have given her fighters. Kin-Deren needs a defender second, at least for the time being. I have given her one.” His wife crossed her arms, eyeing the group, then nodded.

“Morgan and Binthe, go to Varn-Erdal,” he continued. “Liaonne will need you more than Desde for the moment.”

“However, you will go as il’Kin,” Desde added, her dark eyes on Kaarl, “and you will return to Deren as il’Kin after this crisis has been resolved.”

A group of five Kin-Deren Fal’kin riders approached. “Steward Pinal, Prime Kellis Pinal.” Niall Corran nodded quickly to Kaarl and Desde.

Kaarl returned the gesture. “Defender Commander.”

Niall frowned. “I didn’t want it.”

Desde reached up and held his forearm for a moment. “I know. That is why you have the rank.”

He gave her a spare smile. “We searched the foothills for the healers and the herbsfolk. We found the bodies of Ken’nar and some of the herbsfolk. And ash.”

“Any amulets?” Kaarl asked.

He shook his head. “They were probably taken for bounty,” he replied, hatred thick in his voice.

Kaarl cursed. The Ken’nar bastards often stole amulets still warm from the fight right off the necks of Fal’kin they had just killed as trophies.

His wife stiffened. “Teague.”

That tenacious question fell hard in his brain once again. “Corran, the bodies. Was there a boy, sixteen summers?”

Niall Corran shook his head. “No. But there was a large amount of ash.”

Kaarl nodded bleakly. “Gratas Oë. Get yourselves some food and water.” The Kin-Deren commander nodded once more and trotted off with his fighters.

“I know how close Teague and Mirana were,” Morgan said. “And I know Tennen was a good friend.”

“You heard me accuse him and Niah of putting my daughter in harm’s way to keep Teague and her apart.” He looked to the mountain foothills on the western horizon. “I never had a chance to apologize. To either of them.”

“Tennen knows you were frightened for Mirana’s life. They both do.”

Kaarl noted his friend’s use of the present tense. He thanked the Aspects Above once again for having a man like Morgan Jord at his side. Even though the il’Kin were all but gone, Kinderra would need a leader like him.

With Kana-Akün province under Ken’nar control, Kaarl was all but certain Healer Prime Belessa Tir was dead. The enormity of the loss of Tennen and Niah now struck him. He wiped at his face. “Kinderra has no more healers.”

“We don’t know that any more than we know what happened to Teague,” Desde said. “There are many possible reasons they haven’t been found. Perhaps the three of them escaped together and are on their way home now. Maybe—” She reached for his hand. ... Maybe they have Mirana with them ...

“There is still Lord Garis,” Binthe added. “And your daughter.”

He did not answer her. Oh, that tenacious thought.

“As we ride with Liaonne, we will look for the Beltrans and Mirana,” Morgan said. “If they are alive, we’ll find them.”

He nodded. “Gratas.”

His wife gave the young woman a warm embrace. “Be careful. Both of you.”

“The future seems dark,” Binthe said, “but the Aspects Above have yet to weave their skeins. Take comfort in that.”

Kaarl likewise held the battle seer tightly. “You come back to us, Binthe of the Sea, do you hear?” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then left with Morgan to prepare for the journey to Edara.

Desde took a few steps closer to the river, holding her amulet. “I once met the artisan who made this. There are few higher acts of service for the Unaspected than crafting the amulets we bear to protect them.” She let her amulet fall back to her chest and gave a ragged exhale. “Those twenty-five defenders will make little difference for Edara. Most will probably not survive. Our numbers will never recover. Varn-Erdal’s future is clouded, but Kin-Deren’s future is even darker unless I take a new course. I have only one choice now to guard both provinces.”

Kaarl blanched as she opened her mind to him. What she planned would unlock the very gates of the Underworld.

“You cannot. Desde, you cannot. You must not.”

“I can no easier prevent the Dark Trine from overrunning Edara than I can protect Deren. Yet, both must happen. For that, I need an army. There are no more Fal’kin left.” She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes. “We have no other choice, Ëi ama. We must ask our Unaspected brothers and sisters to stand with us.”

He grabbed her arms. “You can’t do this. The very reason we breathe is to protect the Unaspected, not ask them to fight our wars for us.”

She pulled out of his grip. “So, now you stand on principle? This would be a first, Kaarl il’Tern il’Pinal. This is the only way I can protect two provinces. It is the only way I can protect our daughter.”

“Please listen to reason.”

“I cannot even keep Kin-Deren safe, let alone aid Varn-Erdal. Kana-Akün has already fallen. It will only be a matter of time before the Dark Trine marches on Deren. I have no choice.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “There is always a choice. We will ask every province on the continent for a cleaving. I will rebuild the il’Kin. I am steward, am I not? I will—”

“We do not have that kind of time. I have only time enough to do what needs to be done.”

“But we are Fal’kin, Desde,” he pleaded.

She held her amulet once more and studied it. “We were.”

To ask the Unaspected to fight was anathema. “Jasal Pinal was in a more dire situation than we are when he faced the Ken’nar Triumvirate, and even he did not ask the Unaspected to fight.”

“He had five thousand Fal’kin and the vantage of that watchtower on his side.” Desde then frowned skyward. “The Aspects Above have abandoned us.”

... I will find another way ... he called.

She whirled to face him. “There is no other way. We have failed in our purpose.” With effort, she composed herself once more. “Perhaps in our frailty, though, we can give one more act of service. To step aside for the good of Kinderra. No matter his strength, the Dark Trine’s armies are no match for the millions of Unaspected who live on this continent. The Aspects Above created them first, gave them their breath first, gave them this land first. Kinderra is as much theirs to cherish and protect as it is ours. Perhaps the age of the Fal’kin was meant to fade away to keep Kinderra safe. I would rather see that than have Kinderra enslaved under the yoke of the Dark Trine’s tyranny just to keep a failing grip on our amulets.”

“I am begging you. Do not do this. I cannot let you do this.”

“You cannot let me?” She laughed without humor. “I am prime of Kin-Deren province. It is my decision and mine alone. You may defend, but I see. Unless we do this, there will nothing left for you to defend.”

“If you do this, Kinderra will never be the same again. There has to be another choice, another solution. I will find one.”

Desde placed her once-perfect porcelain fingers on his amulet. “And if you fail?”

Kaarl did not answer. If he failed, Kinderra could be destroyed without the firing of a single amulet. And his daughter would be no safer.

CHAPTER 39

“His hand is with all.”

—The Codex of Jasal the Great

––––––––

Mirana smelled the scent of wet grass. Clean. Fresh. Good. She inhaled the fragrant green aroma, then stopped quickly. Her breath burned her lungs, each inhale a hot coal. Her chest, her arms, her hands ached—raw, scorched, and shredded. She remembered and awoke with start.

A dark cloaked figure sat an arm’s length away. She shouted and drew one of her long knives, scrambling backward.

“Oh! Lord Garis!” She put the knife away. “You’re alive!”

“Quite.” He lowered the cowl of his black cloak. “And so are you, despite your best efforts to the contrary.”

In her relief, she ignored his admonition. “I tried to find you. I couldn’t.”

“Ai, the battle was a desperate one, but I have been in desperate battles before and will be again.”

She sat in the middle of a prairie sea stretching from horizon to horizon. She did not see a single tree or shrub, just sky and grass. The sunlight warmed her skin. Insects droned in the tall blades. Small birds flew after them, chirping. She attempted to stretch, and instead winced at her sore muscles.

“Can you ride?”

No, but she would anyway. “Ai.” Her insides felt like a side of Quorumtide beef roasted on a spit. Every muscle felt burned and shredded, but she wasn’t about to admit it.

“Good,” he nodded. “Here. Eat.” He handed her some dried beef.

She took a bite, chewed, and shoved the rest in her mouth. When had she last eaten?

He held a slice back from her. “Slowly.”

A bee flitted between tiny yellow flowers. The blooms dotted the landscape like bits of sunshine. Peda blossoms. Teague. The beef stuck in her throat.

Her hand flew to her chest. Teague’s pendant still hung from her neck. The thin gold frame, however, was warped and discolored with a tarnished patina. The yellow flowers pressed between the fingernail-thin sheets of mica were now brown and shriveled. A faint red outline in the shape of its small rectangle scarred the skin over her breastbone. Its warmth, however, still reflected against her fingertips like sunlight. Like Teague. Like love.

She dared not reach out with her Aspects to know if he had survived the battle at Two Rivers Ford. She would rather remain in hope, in ignorance, if only for a little while longer.

Lord Garis’s mind nudged hers. “You have no room in your life for him now. You would do well to forget him.”

She could no easier forget Teague than she could forget how to breathe. Had a Ken’nar blade made the choice for her? The simple act of eating suddenly became more difficult. She worked the dried beef down in several swallows.

The Trine exhaled in disapproval. “He lives.”

She wanted to weep with relief. “Gratas Oë, Lord Trine.”

“As do your parents.”

“Gratas.” She was grateful—and a thousand more conflicted things besides—to hear that, too.

He gestured to the dried meat in her hand. “Eat.”

She took another bite as she looked around her. “Where are we?” she asked with a full mouth.

He rose and threw a furred animal skin over the back of his horse. “Sün-Kasal province, about a two days’ ride—” He sighed at her grimace as she tried to stretch again. “A three-days’ ride north of Kasan.”

She blinked. “Wait. Three days?” She nearly choked on her food. “How long have I been asleep?”

“You weren’t asleep. I held you unconscious so you could heal.”

That disturbed her. She would have rather awakened when she was ready, regardless of the pain. “I remember being on the Kin-Deren side of the Ford, between the two bridges.”

“You were. I had to swim across the Anarath.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “How? With all the rain, the current should have been too strong for anyone to swim.”

“Lucky for you, I am a strong swimmer.” He inclined his head toward her horse. “Lucky for the both of us, your warhorse is a strong swimmer, too.”

“He is a magnificent beast.” She rose gingerly and patted Ashtar’s powerful flank. It shone like copper in the sun. As she put the rest of the dried beef in her mouth, she pulled up a handful of grass and fed it to him. He lipped the blades from her hand.

“You could have drowned.” She stroked the white blaze on Ashtar’s nose. She had cost so many so much. “You risked your life for me. Why?”

He frowned. “Discovering the power in Jasal’s Keep is paramount. I thought you understood that.” He tossed something toward her. “Now. How are you feeling? Really?”

An amulet’s empty gold casing lay in the grass at her feet, now a piece of melted, twisted metal. She said nothing.

“It is not easy to lose one’s amulet.” His voice sounded uncharacteristically soft.

Choosing the ruby amulet at the Ford had been, what? Something so wondrous, yet so natural. It was nothing at all like the suffocating domination she had experienced during the Choosing Ceremony. When she released her Aspects through it, the glorious connection completed her, made her whole at last.

She picked up the amulet casing. It was bent beyond repair. With an amulet, she had experienced a connection to the Aspects deeper than she ever had before. Now, her perceptions without one were diluted and bereft by comparison.

“I feel—” she fought for a word, “separated. Disconnected. Alone.” She thought of her mother and father, and their betrayal. Abandoned.

He nodded. “Most Aspected never recover from the loss.”

“But I am a Trine. I can choose any amulet, not just one. Why do I feel any loss at all?”

“Using and choosing an amulet are two different things. It is something only a very few have ever understood.”

His emotions shifted, or rather, new ones surfaced and passed to her mind only to recede again. Was he annoyed with her? Resigned to her presence? Angry? Or was he worried? Even actually being kind?

“What in the name of the Aspects were you thinking?” he rebuked her at last.

Angry. He was angry. “My lord, I thought—”

He stabbed a long finger at her. “No. You absolutely did not think. You could have killed yourself destroying Two Rivers Ford. Leveraging that kind of power from Within should have left you dead.”

That victory, however, gave her small comfort. Thousands of her Kin-Deren provincemen died during the battle because of her, because she no longer trusted what she knew to be true.

That was the problem. She no longer knew right from wrong.

She traced the ruined amulet with a finger. “I had to do something.”

He towered over her, balling those very large fists of his on his hips. He snatched the amulet casing from her hands, then shook it at her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

She didn’t want to look into his hard obsidian eyes. She would have hidden in the grass if she could have. “I know with the Ford gone, it will make crossing the rivers more difficult, but the Dark Trine’s armies will also be stopped in their tracks.”

“It will also stop commerce, and any food coming from the bounty of the south to the northern provinces. These rains will have delayed crops in the north. If we have a harsh winter, provinces may starve. Ai, you’ve stopped something. You have stopped the continent.” He threw the empty amulet back down at her feet.

Hundreds of miles away lay the ocean. She had Ashtar and a piece of food. What would it take to ride away to the sea? Probably more than one piece of tough jerked beef.

“The Fal’kin were being slaughtered. I couldn’t let them die.” She had saved a hundred Fal’kin only to cripple Kinderra in the process. “You should have left me in the library.”

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “I thought we were past this.”

She caught a number of emotional shades from the Trine again. Anger, ai, but also concern, about her and for her. Frankly, that shocked her. She figured she was little more than a nuisance to him. After destroying the Ford, she might even be a downright hindrance.

She massaged the tender red burns on one palm with her thumb, wanting to do anything but face his penetrating dark gaze. “How did you know I was in the library anyway? I was hidden under U’Nehíl.”

“And very well, too.” She looked up. A corner of the Trine’s mouth finally curved upward into a grin, not so much in humor, but in acknowledgment of her cleverness. Or maybe his cleverness in finding her. She didn’t know which. He was an enigma. “Where is the only place a young girl could go to face the creator of a nightmare that has preyed upon her for summers?” He was right.

He crouched and picked up her spent amulet once more, studying it. “Ai, you made egress across Kinderra much more difficult, but you did end the battle very effectively. Lives were indeed saved that most certainly would have been lost. I also have no doubt you knew it might cost you your own.”

His words, or rather the emotions behind his words, were not so much complimentary as they were compassionate. She fought the urge to hug him.

Lord Garis laid the tarnished setting on the grass and leaned over to reach into one of Ashtar’s saddlebags on the ground. He handed her another piece of beef and a wafer of waybread. “You need to eat more. Healing takes as much from the patient as the healer. Perhaps had you packed more food instead of Jasal’s Codex, we could travel longer.” He took out the tome.

She smiled sheepishly and took a bite of the hardtack. She chewed quickly and swallowed. “We will need it if we are to figure out how the keep works.”

She reached for the Codex. Unlike the journals of so many other primes and learned Fal’kin, Jasal’s journal was not much larger than an ordinary book. It was not inset with gems, nor leafed with gold. Other than the clasp, nothing about it indicated how incredibly unique it was.

“So, you stole it.” He eased himself back down on the grass and took a bite of waybread.

“I didn’t steal it. I just, um—” Mirana pursed her lips for a moment, “borrowed it. Every book in Deren’s library is available for those who seek knowledge.” She sat down next to him.

He made a strange sound in the back of his throat. Did the Lord Trine Tetric Garis just laugh? “I suppose you’re correct. What do you know about your ancestor’s keep?”

She paused, thinking. “Jasal Pinal built the keep during the Siege of Deren some twelve hundred summers ago. He knew the citadel walls and the gates wouldn’t be enough to stop the Ken’nar from entering the city. Instead of leading his armies against Ilrik the Black, it appears Jasal was focused on finishing the watchtower.” She patted the cover of the Codex. “In the end, neither his body nor his amulet was found. All of Kinderra believes Jasal abandoned Deren and the Fal’kin at the height of the battle.”

Lord Garis stroked his beard. “I have fought long enough to know that lack of an identifiable body is seldom proof of whether one is living or dead. But what of his keep, the very thing that saved Deren?”

She was too shocked to answer his question. She had one of her own. “You don’t think Jasal was a coward?”

He shook his head. “I don’t care if he was or was not.”

Jasal Pinal had been branded a villain more despicable than even a traitor. Her family was still treated with a certain amount of mistrust more than a thousand summers later because of it. The Trine’s dismissal of her family’s curse stunned her.

“Well, um, his keep did work, according to the Book of Kinderra,” she answered. “Passages from that time say Ilrik the Black was killed, and his Ken’nar were defeated. Deren was saved. Somehow.”

“Somehow,” the Trine added. He pointed to the journal in her hands. “Have you read the passage in his Codex—or in the Book of Kinderra, for that matter—that says how the keep did this supposed miracle?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it is not there.”

“Ai,” he nodded. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that one of the most magnificent pieces of engineering on the continent has almost no mention in the very journal of its builder?” He gestured to the northeast where Deren and the watchtower lay hundreds of leagues away.

“I’ve always wondered that, too.” She shook her head slowly, thinking again. “Jasal must have had plans, drawings, something.”

“I agree, but to my knowledge, I don’t recall ever reading anything like that.”

He gestured for her to give him the book and flipped to the pages at the back. After searching a bit, he read, “‘This is a time of great peril.’” He scanned the script. “‘Thus, the Aspects Above have revealed to me their divine plan. But to hearken unto their will requires a decision I am loath to make. My choice is before me. I could no easier ignore the need than I could ignore my beloved Antiri’s call. Therefore, I have called upon the whole of the Fal’kinnen for a great sacrifice as demanded by the Aspects Above.’ What do you make of this?”

Mirana leaned forward a bit to get a better view of the passage and bit off a groan as her muscles complained at the movement. “That part is a little strange to me. It’s very direct, for one thing. Jasal is usually much more poetic. He sounds doubtful. Or terrified.” She straightened—very slowly. “What’s even more strange, the concluding ones afterward make no sense.”

Lord Garis pursed his lips for a moment. “How so?”

“Well, the content doesn’t flow. More than that, though, I think everything coming after this passage was written by another writer. Read this.” She flipped a few pages and tapped on the flowing script. “‘At great cost have we won. Deren lives, yet our Treasure has been lost to us. The Light from our greatest Jewel shines elsewhere.’ Not only do the glyphs of the script look different, but this writer also used a prime glyph in the words ‘treasure,’ ‘light,’ and ‘jewel.’ I think whoever wrote this last passage was referring to Jasal himself, not amulets. Jasal never describes himself like this. He is a very humble man, really.”

She knew without a doubt the final passage had been written by someone else. Jasal’s sense was completely gone from those particular words. She suspected it was Antiri, Jasal’s beloved wife and seer from the southern desert province of Tash-Hamar.

“Look here.” Mirana took the book back and pointed to another paragraph whose black ink had faded to brown over time. “This verse reads, ‘The Sisters shall be the guardians of the Keep.’ Then it says, in the Old Tongue no less, ‘Iës manë ísi cin tuda.’ His hand is with all. Jasal rarely uses the Old Tongue. He’s always trying to move people’s thinking forward, away from the old ways. What’s more, this passage is written in the third person.”

The Trine raised a dark eyebrow. “You can read this upside down?”

She gave him a bashful grin. “I’ve studied it. A lot.”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “You are a singular girl, aren’t you?”

By. The. Light. Was he not only smiling—or close to it—but teasing her? Maybe he was human, after all.

He sat back and toyed with his silvery black amulet. “If his hand is with us all, why can’t we find it?”

“I think there are missing pages.” She caressed the journal. “They could have been destroyed.”

“That is quite possible. Yet the rest of his Codex remains.” He gestured to the book.

“It’s been in my family for generations. It’s only been on display in Deren’s library for a couple of decades. My brepaithe, when he was prime, placed it there shortly after my father joined in union with my mother.”

A notion tickled at the back of her mind. She contemplated the glyphs on the page. His hand is with all. Hand.

“Wait a moment.” She placed her palm on the page. “‘His hand is with all.’ Hand. Handwriting maybe?” She was so close to understanding. His handwriting is with all. All. All the people? The provinces? She read the passage again. “‘The Sisters shall be the guardians—’ Oh!” She jumped to her feet and the Codex fell to the grass, a startling notion overcoming her pain. It was so obvious. Why had she not seen it before?

Lord Garis sat back in surprise. “What?”

“The Sisters. He’s hidden the missing passages in the learning halls.”

He nodded, understanding. “His hand is with all. The Nine Sisters.”

“No.” She shook her head emphatically in her excitement. “It would only be in the learning halls of the provinces in existence during his time. Kin-Deren, Trak-Calan, Rün-Taran—”

“And Tash-Hamar, ai.” He stroked his beard, dark eyes glittering.

Jasal’s plan sent Mirana reeling. It was ingenious. “He split up the keep treatise and hid the passages at the four province learning halls so the secret of how it saved Deren would be safe from the Ken’nar. Even if one piece were found, no individual part would give away the entirety of its construction.”

The Trine’s dark brows furrowed even deeper. “Then, why write them at all if he feared they would be discovered by those he considered enemies?”

The brilliance of her ancestor’s plan continued to unfold in her mind. “He wants them to be found. His keep saved Kinderra once. He may have known it would be needed again. At a ‘time of great peril.’” Like now. But in her hands, his keep appeared to do anything but save the land.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked.

Jasal Pinal built the keep to save Kinderra. That was not the act of a criminal. What if he did not die a coward, forsaking his people? What if, all this time, everyone has been wrong?

She began to shake. If he died in shame, abandoning his wife and their newborn son to the swords of the Ken’nar and leaving Deren to destruction, would Antiri still have written about him in such tender terms in the last passage?

Her heart pounded. Had Jasal touched the white light when he died? Unlike the rest of the terrifying vision, the white light was magnificent. It was as rapturous as it was ruinous, like the Aspects Above themselves had come down from the heavens in that brilliance. If he died in shame, if she were to die filled with enraged evil, did it not stand to reason such a miraculous experience would be denied both of them for bringing doom upon Kinderra?

Unless Jasal Pinal did not die in shame.

“Mirana?”

She bit her lip. She knew unequivocally he had taken his own life. But was there more to Jasal’s story?

What if her own destiny held more beyond all the ruin she saw at her hands? What if her ancestor had found a path of hope out of an end of failure?

If he could find such a way, could she?

“Mirana?” Lord Garis asked once more. “What else do you know about Jasal?”

“It’s all there,” she said at last. “His joy, his pain, his doubt. There. Captured within the pages.” She knelt back down, took his hand, and placed it on the Codex. “You are a Trine. You must feel it as well.” Her throat tightened when his expression did not change. “Can’t you?”

He shook his head. “I feel nothing.”

Her eyes widened. “I cannot be the only one to sense him.”

“You sense his presence?” he asked, his voice hushed.

“Not exactly his presence but his emotions. They are here. In these pages. Within his handwriting.”

He sat silent for a long time. “You are his legacy, an heir to his Trine powers. Perhaps that explains why you can sense him and I cannot.” He exhaled loudly and wiped at his face. “To think you nearly killed yourself. Twice.”

She eyed the amulet casing in the grass. “Kinderra is more important than me. Far more.”

“When are you going to start believing in your own importance?” he replied, his voice quiet, yet yielding none of its strength. He rose. “Do you not see who you are? What you are? There will be no Kinderra without you. You can sense a reflection of Jasal Pinal in the passages he wrote about his keep, a reflection I cannot. Without those writings, without you being able to find them in provinces that lie ahead, we will never understand how the keep saved Deren all those centuries ago. Without you, there will be no saving keep for us now.

“I know you fear what you have seen in your vision of the keep, but also know this: your ancestor built that keep for one purpose—to save Kinderra,” he continued. “The fact that you want to help me use the keep to do so again means you have already chosen the right path.”

Lord Garis took the Codex from her and set it back down in the grass. He grasped her hands and turned them over, her palms facing up. Traces of burns remained. “Mirana, I spent the better part of a day healing you. If you died, Kinderra would be lost. Do you understand that now?”

He had saved her life, twice, even risking his own, in the belief that she could somehow unlock the secrets to Jasal’s Keep. What if those secrets, what if the power that lay hidden, would not save Kinderra?

“I can’t hide who or what I am anymore, but I don’t know how to go forward. What if I—” she eyed her broken amulet on the ground, “fall from our path?”

He laid his large hand on her shoulder. “I never had anyone to show me how to be a Trine, and I paid for my ignorance. I will make sure you never do. I told you, you will not bear these burdens alone. We shall go forward together.”

His words humbled her. With no way to express her gratitude, she simply nodded.

“We will head to Tash-Hamar. If you are correct, we shall find some of Jasal’s writings there.” The Trine finished readying his horse and lifted her saddle and packs onto Ashtar’s back. “You must tell no one about the keep passages.”

She scowled. It was not a request but an order. “Why?”

His mouth grew hard. “Think, Mirana. We have touched upon a secret so vast, it might very well change the course of history. Men and women would kill for this information. No one must find out what we’ve discovered. No one.”

She nodded and slipped the Codex back into her saddlebag. Jasal Pinal died by his own hand. That was certain. Had he been overwhelmed by his own Trine powers? Had he abandoned his people and died a coward’s death? Or had he found a way through his own self-loathing? Had he sacrificed himself somehow for his people to die a hero? If he found a way to save his people by turning back from his fear of failure—emotions she sensed so strongly within his words—could she turn back from her own future of failure?

Jasal Pinal’s fate was tied to the keep, and her fate was tied to Jasal.

Her ruined amulet lay dull in the grass, its luster burned away. An amulet without a crystal was useless. It could save no one. Until she knew the truth about her destiny, she could no more save Kinderra from the Ken’nar than an empty, useless amulet could.

“Come. We have a long journey ahead of us.” Lord Garis swung up onto his horse and tapped his mount’s sides.

Mirana climbed onto Ashtar’s broad back and followed the Trine, leaving the empty amulet behind in the grass.

THE SAGA CONTINUES...

Trine Fallacy

The Kinderra Saga: Book 2

TRINE RISING

The Kinderra Saga: Book 1

Dramatis Personae

Kin-Deren—1st Hall. Standard: gold field with red eagle

ANTIRI il’Amil Pinal (2094–2127): Seer. Joined in union with Jasal Pinal. Son, Jasan (b. 2122). Born to Tash-Hamar province. Amulet: blue-green aquamarine.

ATAN Robaar (3350–): Fal’kin scholaire Defender. Chooses early to support the Battle of Two Rivers Ford. Amulet: red ruby.

DAV Koehl (3319–): Defender. Defender Commander of Kin-Deren provincial Fal’kin forces. Amulet: blue sapphire.

DESDE il’Kellis Pinal (3319–): Seer. Prime of Kin-Deren. Served as il’Kin battle seer before elevation as Prime’s Second. Joined in union with Kaarl Pinal. Mother of Mirana Pinal. Amulet: yellow topaz.

GANNAH Tesabe (3345–3367): Defender. Member of the il’Kin. Born to Jad-Anüna Province. Killed in a grynwen ambush in Kana-Akün forest in 3367. Amulet: yellow sapphire.

GEMMA il’Lakumbe Piaar (3318–): Unaspected. Senior herbswoman at the Healing Hostel of Kin-Deren. Born to Jad-Anüna province. Husband Baden Piaar (deceased). Mother to five children (three sons, two daughters) killed in a Ken’nar raid in 3350.

HAARLEN Lasen (3312–): Unaspected. Quartermaster of the Learning Hall of Kin-Deren province.

ILRIK Maldaar (2089–2122): Defender. Ken Defender of the Dark Triumvirate. Also known as “Ilrik the Black.” Amulet: deep red-purple garnet.

ISEL, Wend (3317–): Defender. Horsemaster of Kin-Deren province. Oversees the stables in Deren and the province’s warhorse herd. Amulet: yellow zircon.

JASAL Pinal (2092–2122): Trine. Primus Magne and Prime of Kin-Deren. Amulet: diamond.

KAARL Pinal (3314–): Defender. Defender Commander of the il’Kin. Named Steward of the Quorum of Light after the death of Toban Kellis. Joined in union with Desde il’Kellis Pinal. Father of Mirana Pinal. Amulet: red garnet.

MAARK Bedane (3352–): Unaspected. Orphaned when his parents were killed in a Ken’nar raid of their homestead and farm in 3365.

MIRANA Pinal (3351–): Fal’kin scholaira, training as a seer. Daughter of Kaarl and Desde Pinal.

MORGAN Jord (3334–): Defender. Commander’s Second of the il’Kin. Amulet: purple amethyst.

NIAH il’Sahli Beltran (3325–): Healer. Priora of Healing Hostel of Kin-Deren. Born to Tash-Hamar province. Joined in union with Tennen Beltran. Mother of Teague Beltran. Amulet: rose quartz.

NIALL Corran (3318–): Defender. Commander’s Second of the Kin-Deren provincial Fal’kin forces. Amulet: red beryl.

TADDIE (Taddeus) Egen (3362–): Fal’kin scholaire Seer. Apprenticed under Defender Wend Isel as a stable hand.

TARN Salka (3315–3365): Defender. Member of the il’Kin. Killed in a Ken’nar skirmish near Thyre’s Crossing in the Trak-Calan highlands in 3365. Amulet: blue zircon.

TAUL Brandt (3320–): Unaspected. Magistrate of Deren.

TEAGUE Beltran (3351–): Unaspected. Son of Healers Tennen and Niah Beltran. Apprenticed as an herbsman in the Healing Hostel.

TENNEN Beltran (3322–): Healer. Priore of Healing Hostel of Kin-Deren. Joined in union with Niah il’Sahli Beltran. Father of Teague Beltran. Amulet: light-purple sapphire.

TOBAN Kellis (3272–3367): Seer. Former Prime of Kin-Deren, Steward of the Quorum of Light. Father of Desde il’Kellis Pinal. Amulet: light-yellow beryl.

YENIRA Irasda (3349–): Fal’kin scholaira Seer. Chooses early to support the Battle of Two Rivers Ford. Amulet: blue topaz.

Trak-Calan—2nd Hall. Standard: gold field with green tiger

HINSAH Parn (3348–): Defender. Commander’s Second of Trak-Calan provincial Fal’kin forces. Amulet: medium-green peridot.

KOBEN Ryotan (3314–): Seer. Prime of Trak-Calan. Raised as a foster brother to Tetric Garis. Amulet: dark-orange garnet.

SHALAS Yutan (3245–3330): Seer. Prime of Trak-Calan. Foster father and patrua mentor of Tetric Garis. Amulet: golden topaz.

Rün-Taran—3rd Hall. Standard: white field with blue capricorn

BINTHE Lima (3343–): Seer. Battle seer of the il’Kin. Granddaughter of Eshe and Lindar Pashcot. Amulet: green emerald.

ESHE il’Bahane Pashcot (3270–): Seer. Prime of Rün-Taran. Joined in union with Lindar Pashcot (deceased). Grandmother to Binthe Lima. Amulet: pale-blue zircon.

LINDAR Pashcot (3268–3330): Defender. Defender Commander of Rün-Taran provincial Fal’kin forces and Prime’s Second. Joined in union with Eshe il’Bahane Pashcot. Grandfather to Binthe Lima. Amulet: red-orange carnelian.

SYNE Develan (3289–): Defender. Defender Commander of Rün-Taran provincial Fal’kin forces and Prime’s Second. Amulet: orange citrine.

Tash-Hamar—4th Hall. Standard: purple field with red leopard

FALANNAH il’Aldi Sadhi (3308–3350): Seer. Served as a battle seer in the Tash-Hamari provincial Fal’kin forces. Mother of Timir Sadhi. Sister of Fasen Aldi. Amulet: pink morganite.

FASEN Aldi (3303–): Defender. Prime of Tash-Hamar. Uncle of Timir Sadhi. Brother to Falannah il’Aldi Sadhi. Amulet: blue sapphire.

TIMIR Sadhi (3333–): Defender. Defender Commander of Tash-Hamari Fal’kin provincial forces and Prime’s Second. Nephew of Fasen Aldi. Amulet: deep-orange citrine.

Kana-Akün—5th Hall. Standard: green field with gold hart

BELESSA il’Isofar Tir (3279–3367): Healer. Prime of Kana-Akün. Presumed killed in the Battle of Falantir, winter 3367. Amulet: green tourmaline.

THIEER Pannen (3321–3367): Seer. Ranking Seer, served as a battle seer and Prime’s Second of Kana-Akün. Presumed killed in the Battle of Falantir, winter 3367. Amulet: yellow apatite.

Varn-Erdal—6th Hall. Standard: white field with red horse

CLARIENNE il’Hadten Jord (3336–3359): Unaspected. Shepherd and homesteader. Wife of Morgan Jord. Died with infant son, Pieter, in a Ken’nar raid in the Varn-Erdal plains in 3359.

DREI Carada (3348–3365): Defender. Son of Trein Carada and Marienne Tans. Attacked by Ken’nar, winter 3365, presumed dead. Amulet: deep-magenta rhodolite.

ERAN Talz (3315–): Unaspected. Horsemaster of Varn-Erdal province. Oversees the stables in Edara and the province’s warhorse herd.

GRENNE Fadern (3325–): Seer. Ranking Seer, elevated to Prime’s Second of Varn-Erdal before the Battle of Edara. Two sons (deceased), one daughter (deceased) by Trein Carada. Previously coupled with Trein Carada until his death. Coupled with Liaonne Edaran. Amulet: deep-pink tourmaline.

ILLENNE Talz (3349–): Unaspected. Horse herd mistress and archer. Daughter of Eran Talz.

LIAONNE Edaran (3342–): Defender. Prime of Varn-Erdal, elevated after the Battle of Two Rivers Ford. Daughter of Vallia Edaran. Amulet: yellow topaz.

MARIENNE Tans (3318–): Unaspected. Learning hall attendant and laundress. Mother of Drei Carada. Coupled with Trein Carada until his death. Bore five other children (three sons, two daughters), all defenders, deceased.

NATHEN Keldir (3298–): Defender. Senior defender on Prime’s Council. Father of Liaonne Edaran. Amulet: amber citrine.

PALEN Clar (3298–): Unaspected. Senior learning hall herbsman.

PIETER Jord (3358–3359, d. 6 months): Unaspected. Son of Morgan and Clarienne Jord. Died in a Ken’nar raid in Varn-Erdal plains.

PIOL Lidan (3295–): Defender. Senior defender on Prime’s Council. Amulet: green chrysoberyl.

TREIN Carada (3317–3365): Defender. Attacked by Ken’nar, winter 3365, presumed dead. Amulet: blue apatite.

WESAL Pettan (3293–): Defender. Senior defender on Prime’s Council. Amulet: dark-pink zircon.

VALLIA Edaran (3317–3368): Defender. Prime of Varn-Erdal. Perished in an ambush during the Battle of Two Rivers Ford. Amulet: red ruby.

Jad-Anüna—7th Hall. Standard: blue field with gold lion

ABER Hebari (3328–): Defender. Defender Commander of Jad-Anünan Fal’kin provincial forces and Prime’s Second. Amulet: green spinel.

NAMBRE Dinir (3302–): Defender. Prime of Jad-Anüna. Amulet: red-brown andalusite.

TILENATETE Nasta (2835–2867): Trine. Prime of Jad-Anüna. Elevated to Primus Magne during the Red Plague of 2864–2866. Killed by Ken’nar when she tried to offer aid during the pandemic. Amulet: pale-green chrysoberyl.

Sün-Kasal—8th Hall. Standard: red field with white bull

BYSTRA il’Tari Klai (3312–3350): Defender. Joined in union with Sahm Klai. Two sons (deceased), one daughter (deceased). Amulet: blue-gray cordierite.

RABB Plout (3328–): Seer. Ranking Seer and Prime’s Second. Amulet: red-brown topaz.

SAHM Klai (3308–): Defender. Prime of Sün-Kasal. Joined in union with Bystra il’Tari Klai (deceased). Two sons (deceased), one daughter (deceased) with Bystra il’Tari. Amulet: smoky-brown quartz.

Dar-Azûl—9th Hall. Standard: black field with argent silver griffin

SIDO Rendel (3345–): Seer. Serves as commander of Dar-Azûlan Fal’kin provincial forces and Prime’s Second. Born to Kana-Akün province. Amulet: light-green peridot.

STAINE, Kev (3325–): Defender. Amulet: medium-blue kyanite.

TETRIC Garis (3313–): Trine. Prime of Dar-Azûl. Amulet: hematite.

TRINE RISING

The Kinderra Saga: Book 1

Glossary of Terms and Words

-’e

plural suffix (pronounced ‘eh’); joined to word it modifies. Example: friend/friends = cara/cara’e.

a nehíl

(you are) welcome; literally “a nothing;” not to confused with a greeting “Ben ve” as in “good coming.”

-á

past perfect tense; joined to word it modifies. Example: had created = creará.

a

to

accepte, acceptem

accept, acceptance

ad

at

adam, adamé, adamá

forget, forgot, forgotten

agen

again

ai

yes

ain

one, whole, complete, only

aire

air

alainne

beautiful

alta

above, high

ama

love

amausar

steward, stewardship, manage; literally “loving use”

amula

amulet; Amulets allow an Aspected to further focus and use their innate Aspects, especially outside of themselves. An Aspected’s life force harmonics will resonate with one specific crystal, except in the case of a Trine. Because they possess all three Aspects, Trines have the innate ability to modulate their life harmonics to adapt to any amulet.

amulets

The sacred tool and relic containing a gemstone used by the Aspected to manifest their powers outside of themselves. While all Aspected have certain abilities without an amulet (e.g. telekinesis, telepathy), to produce major actions with their Aspects requires the use of an amulet. Typically, when they’ve reached 18 summers old, Aspected choose a single amulet for life through a mystical union of life harmonics matching the natural harmonics within the gemstone’s crystal structure. The connection is unique and indelible. The loss or destruction of an amulet causes untold anguish on the Aspected individual, most committing suicide. Only Trines, those with all three Aspects, can choose more than one amulet. (see Aspects, Aspected, Choosing Ceremony, Trine)

an

an

anaíl, anaíle

breath, breathe

anelies

another

animale

animal

Anqa Lingua

literally “old tongue”; the ancient language of Kinderra

aonta

union

aquete, aqueté

water, watered

aquila

eagle

ár

on, upon

as

as

aspeca

life

aspecaem

soul, spirit

aspece, aspecae

live, alive

Aspecta(’e)

Aspect(s)

Aspecta’e Alta

Aspects Above; This is the trinity-like deity that Kinderrans believe created the universe and all living things. They are the source of life and the powers of the Aspects.

Aspected

Generic term for one who possesses the powers of the Aspects. In the culture and beliefs of Kinderra, the Unaspected were the first peoples created by the Aspects Above. Some of these were chosen by the Aspects Above and touched with fingers of lightning, bestowing upon them the powers of the Aspects to become the Aspected, stewards and protectors of all of Kinderra. The expression of Aspect powers occurs in about one of every 1,000 births.

Aspects, Powers of the

The powers of the Aspects occur in three types: Defending, conferring extraordinary reflexes, speed, strength, and situational awareness, as well as the ability to manifest amulet fire from one’s amulet; Seeing, conferring the ability to see into the past, present, and future; and Healing, conferring the ability to stimulate the healing of injury and illness thousands of times faster than normal. Major expressions of the Aspects require the focus of an amulet. For example, while it is possible for a healer without an amulet to suppress pain in another to a degree, to set a broken bone would require an amulet to focus the Healing Aspect. All Aspected have certain innate abilities that do not require an amulet, including telekinesis, telepathy, and some ability to shunt away pain and enhance endurance.

aste

star

atuda

together

aud, audé

hear, heard

avera

long for, want

ban

white

bath

both

bé

by

Ben dië

good morning, good day

Ben iré

farewell, goodbye; literally “good leaving”

Ben kin; B’kin

hello, hi (informal); literally “good light”

Ben nöc

good night

ben

good, kind

benedicta, benedictaé, benedictan

bless, blessed, blessing

besa

kiss

bhéth; bhéth en aonta

join; join in union (marry)

bia

before

bir

bring

biraen, biraena, biraen’e

child/son, daughter, children; often used as a term of endearment

biran

birth; literally “bring forth”

Book of Kinderra, The

Historical reference of Kinderra written before the Sundering by Aspected and Unaspected scholars. Considered one of the two revered books of the Fal’kin along with the Ora Fal’kinnen.

braith, braith ár

depend/rely, depend/rely on

brea

great, most (quantity); (see also magne)

bremaithe

grandmother; also term of respect for female elders

brepaithe

grandfather; also term of respect for male elder

buai

win

caela

sky

call

telepathic communication (“He called a warning to her mind.”); also the act of telekinesis (“He called a cup into his waiting hand.”)

calora, calorae

warm, warming

cara, caran; Ëi cara(‘e)

friend, friendship; my friend(s)

cëos; cëosan

choose; chosen

cerebus

brain, mind

Choosing Ceremony

The sacrament where Aspected scholaire’e choose their gemstone amulets through the mystical union of their life harmonics with the harmonics of a gemstone’s crystal. The ceremony is held annually for those who have reached 18 summers old.

chosant

protect

cin

with

cinen

within

cinstandan

withstand

clae

sword, weapon

Codex of Jasal the Great, The

The journal of Jasal Pinal. Written between 2117–2132. There have been several attempts throughout history to destroy the work, but none have succeeded.

com

like (similar to)

comé

what

compre

know

comprende, comprendea

understand, understanding

confian

trust

consente

agree; Example: I agree, okay = Ëo consente

corem

face

covrir (v.)

cover

crear, crearé, creará

create(s), make; created, had created

Crearae

Creation; also a euphemism for Kinderra or the universe

culpa; Ëo ad culpa

fault; “I’m sorry” (literally, “I am at fault”)

cunaré (slang)

derogatory term for female genitalia

daingaen

stable, solid

dam

give

dar

mountain

defecta, defectim

fail, failure

defende, defendeä, defendeo

defend, fight, protect; defender; defense, protection

Defender Commander

Highest-ranking officer in a Fal’kin provincial army; (see Second)

defender

An Aspected individual who possesses the Defending Aspect

Defender’s Second

Second-in-command of a Fal’kin provincial army; (see Second)

derra

earth, land, world

derranen

foundation; based on the root word for “land”

dhái

past

dici

speak, say

dië

dawn, day, morning

digita

finger

diu

long (length)

doma

home, house

dúa

between

e

and (pronounced ‘ee’)

-é

past tense suffix; joined to the word it modifies. Example: created = crearé.

Ëa

me

Ëam

mine

Ëi

my

elies

other

ëllenas

fill(s)

empe, a’empe

begin, had begun

emplecti

embrace, hug

en

in

engre (n.), engren (v.)

anger

enigma

puzzle, riddle

Ëo anaíle; Ëo aspece

“I breathe; I live.” A defender’s adage.

Ëo

I, I am

Ëome

us

Ëomus

we, we are

et

there

eta(n)

there was/were

etim

still

etís

there is/are

Example: have created = crearó

expel

Punishment for a capital crime among the Fal’kin where the condemned is forced to leave Fal’kin society and his/her province. In the most extreme circumstances, a Fal’kin’s amulet is taken. Most Fal’kin would prefer death than be kept from their calling to the Aspects, their amulets, and their province.

exulte

exult, praise

fal

follow

Fal’kin; Fal’kinnen

“They who follow the Light;” the whole body of the Fal’kin. These Aspected people believe in the philosophy of the Light from Within. They use their innate powers of the Aspects within themselves as their sole source of power. To draw in life forces to augment one’s power is considered the most extreme crime one could commit. Fal’kin caught using the Power from Without are relieved of their amulets and expelled from the province.

fár

for

fárdam, fárdamen; Ëo fárdam Oë

forgive, forgiven; “I forgive you”

fhí, fhíagn, a fhí

weave, weaving, to weave

filam

thread

fin

at last, end, finished

fissura

crack, fissure, split

forma

form

forte

fort, keep (building), strong

fos

yet

fuádain

fleeting

gainem

sand (n.)

gemma

crystal, jewel

gente, -n, -na

people, man, woman

gháinn, gháinn’e

grain, grains

gloria, gloriae, gloriaé

glory, glorify, glorified

Gratas, Gratas Oë

thanks; thank you

grynwen

Massive, wolflike carnivores known for their pupilless red eyes and their viciousness. It is believed they use some type of primitive Aspect-like senses to hunt.

gryphus

griffin

hac

here

hale

holy

har

hill

healer

An Aspected individual who possesses the Healing Aspect

-í

future tense suffix, joined to word it modifies; Example: will create = crearí.

i’

of; joined to word it modifies

id (m.), ida (f.)

it(s)

Ië, Iëm, Iës

he, him, his

Iëa, Iëam Iëas

she, her, hers

il’-

of the; joined to word it modifies. Often used as a prefix in formal surnames, especially matrilineal names.

il’Kin

The Fal’kin strike force comprised of defenders and battle seers from all nine provinces. The il’Kin is a special operations unit serving all of Kinderra and augments provincial forces in times of need. It is under the direction of the Steward of the Quorum of Light and led by a defender commander. Historically, the il’Kin has served Kinderra in the absence of a Trine’s provincial forces. Only the most highly accomplished Fal’kin are invited to join its ranks.

imbecilae, -t

ignorance, stupidity; ignorant, stupid

impatientia

impatience

inaspeca (n.)

free will, will

incendio

burn

infera

below, under

inimica

enemy

íre

go, leave, journey

ísi(é)

are, be, is; was (preposition); (see pronouns)

íuven; íuven sibe/siba

young; younger (“little”) brother/sister

ken

power

Ken’nar; Ken’narren

“They who use the Power;” The whole body of the Ken’nar. Ken’nar believe in the philosophy of the Power from Without. They use their innate Aspects and their amulets only to pull in the life forces around them and pour out that power back through their amulets, providing a seemingly limitless supply of power. They believe the use of the Aspects should not be limited by one’s innate powers.

Kin ísi Oëa

Light be yours; a formal greeting. The reply is “E Oë” (And you).

kin

light

kinema

lightning

len

gentle, soft

leten

allow, let

locarae

location, place

luve

rain

luveclae

storm, tempest; literally “rain sword”

ma, maís

may, may be, maybe

maent

meant

magistrate

the highest-ranking government official of a province’s Unaspected, akin to a Fal’kin prime

magne

great (honorable); (see also brea)

maithe

mother; has the connotation of “mommy”

manë

hand

marca

brand

matrua

aunt; also can mean “godmother,” “teacher,” or “mentor”

mer

sea, ocean

mercare, mercaré

buy, bought

minia

little, small, tiny

mista

mist

mor

more

morte, mortea, mortean, mortes

dead, death, die

necesit

must

nefas, nefas’e

sin, sins

nehíl

nothing

nöc

night

nome

name, call; also a telepathic call of communication

nubla

cloud

Numbers, 1-10 (cardinal, quantity)

primus, seconda, trina, quatra, quinta, sexta, septa, octa, nonta, decema (see also “ain”)

nun

nor

nunqa

never

o

or

-ó

present perfect tense; joined to the word it modifies

obsca; Obsca Oëa osa

close, shut; “Close your mouth” (“shut up”)

Oë

you

Oëa

your, yours

Oëma

who, whom

Oëme

they

Oëmea

those

Oëmus

them, their

onoír

honor

Ora Fal’kinnen

Literally “Prayer of the Fal’kin.” The major religious work of the Fal’kin, detailing their relationship with the Aspects Above, the powers of the Aspects, and Kinderra. Considered one of the great books of the Fal’kin along with The Book of Kinderra.

Osa

mouth

oscuil, oscuil’e

eye, eyes

pace

peace

paithe

father; has the connotation of “daddy”

palibre

word

passenae (n.), passen (v.)

passage, hallway (n.); pass (v.)

patientia

patience

patrua

uncle; also “godfather,” “teacher” or “mentor”

pecta

breast, chest

penilaré (slang)

derogatory term for male genitalia

per

but

periclaem

fear

pericul, periculus

danger, dangerous

pián

pain, suffering

placre

please (v.)

pon, pone

lay/lay down, lies/rests

potem

after

potest

possible

Prime

The Aspected leader of a province’s Fal’kin

Prime’s Second

The Aspected next in line for primeship (see Second)

Primus Magne

A dictator-like role elevated from among the Aspected to lead the entire continent’s Fal’kin. This role is enacted during times of extreme duress in Kinderra, such as a pandemic or other wide-spread calamity.

Primus

Anqa Linqua for “prime;” used as a formal reference

priore, priora, priore’e

The head of a healing hostel or infirmary, something akin to the chief of staff

Pronouns

are capitalized; Ëo (I), Oë (you), Ëomus (we), etc.; state of being implied. Example: I am here = Ëo hac.

proxi

against, close, near

qua

which

quen

when

quet, quetís

where, where is

quis

some

quistempre(’e)

sometime(s)

quod

because

Quorum of Light

The council comprised of all the primes and seconds from the nine provinces of Kinderra. The Quorum discusses the state of affairs in Kinderra, and sets policy and laws affecting the Fal’kin of every province.

Quorumtide

The major holiday time in Kinderra, marked by feasting and celebration, and often fewer military actions due to impending winter weather. It coincides with the Quorum meeting, which occurs in Deren for one sevenday each Reckoning in Fifthmonth.

reace

reach

Reckoning

The literal number of the year. Example: Mirana Pinal was born in the Reckoning of 3352.

Rememore Kin e Forte

Remember the Light and the Keep

Rememore Kin en Forte

Remember the Light in the Keep

rememore

remember

requa

require

responara

answer

revelar

reveal

risa

rise

rith

run

robare

steal

runh

secret, hide

Sana e Kin a Oë

Health and Light to You; a formal greeting

sana

health

sanare, sanarente, sanareä

heal, healing, healer

scholaire (m.), scholaira (f.), scholaire’e (pl.)

Aspected students learning how to use their powers.

scinane, scinané, scinaneá

shine, shined, shone

sculpte

sculpt, shape

Second

The second-in-command of a province’s Fal’kin (Prime’s Second) or Fal’kin army (Commander’s Second). This is an extremely influential and pivotal role, requiring much vetting and interviewing, and provides an immediate and seamless transition of power upon a prime’s or defender commander’s death or incapacitation. Final approval for either role rests with a province’s prime, although in the case of a Commander’s Second, the Defender Commander’s choice strongly influences the decision.

Seconde

See Second

seer

An Aspected individual who possesses the Seeing Aspect

seer’s ruse

A seer technique for projecting visions through an amulet to be viewed by others. (see also Visi Externa)

servad

servant

settan

set

siba, Ëi siba

sister, my sister

sibe, Ëi sibe

brother, my brother

siber (n.), sibere (v.)

sieve (n.), sift (v.)

siniúint

destiny

skene

skein

solis

alone, apart, separate

staíonnae, staíonne

need (n.), need (v.)

standan

stand

statam

now

Steward of the Quorum of Light

The influential facilitator of the Quorum of Light is elected by the primes and seconds of the Quorum. The steward has no vote for his/her province but can cast a single vote by proxy for another province unable to attend Quorum meetings as well as cast a tie-breaking vote in the rare instance when it occurs.

straitéis

strategy, plan

summer

Euphemism for a calendar year, especially in reference to age (I am sixteen summers old; the man has seen thirty summers). There are twelve months in a Kinderran year. Since summer is the most bountiful season, Kinderrans celebrate “New Year’s Day” on the summer solstice; also the literal summer season, or the 1st of Firstmonth. (see also Reckoning)

ta

to

talus(’e)

claw(s), talon(s)

te

from

tempre

time

ten

has, have

testus; Ëo testus

swear (an oath); I swear

tha

than

the

then

thet

that

todhái

future

toucha

touch

traiseh

treasure

tré

through

treor

command, guide

trevia

direction, way; (see also íre, passenae)

Trine

One who possesses all three powers of the Aspects (i.e. Defending, Seeing, and Healing). These individuals are exceedingly rare, perhaps one born only once every several hundred summers. In Kinderran culture, it is believed the Aspects Above create a Trine to save Kinderra from some great impending calamity.

tuda

all

tudempre

always, eternal, forever; literally “all time”

tudsa

also

tuil, tuilé

earn, earned

u’-

not, un-; joined to word it modifies. Example: u’kin meaning dark or “not light.”

u’ai

no

u’ben

evil; literally “not good”

u’bendicta

curse; literally “un-blessing”

u’cin

without

u’gen, u’gente

none, no one

u’kin

dark; literally “not light”

u’len

hard

U’Nehíl

Literally “false nothing;” The practice of masking one’s presence from within the Aspects by manipulating one’s Aspects to mimic or reflect the “life force” noise in the general vicinity.

u’pace

battle, war; literally “not peace”

u’verdas

falsehood, lie

u’vide excra (slang)

Unaspected; literally “sightless shit”

u’vide

blind, sightless, often derogatory; “u’vide vermihn” meaning “sightless maggot” as someone without the Aspects.

Unaspected

those without the Aspects

upacaem

destruction; based on the root word for “war”

usar

use

ve

come(s)

verda, verdas

true, truth

vermihn

maggot, worm, or any vermin or disgusting creature; often used as an insult

vide, vidé, Videä, Vidë

look/see, looked/saw, Seer, Sight

virtú

bravery, courage

Visi Externa

A seer technique for projecting visions through an amulet to be viewed by others; also known as a seer’s ruse

visi

vision

voide

void

year

see Reckoning; see summer

About the Author

While other kids read comic books under the covers with a flashlight at bedtime, C.K. DONNELLY wrote fan fiction and fantasy stories.

She used her love of writing to pursue a career in journalism and was honored with several press awards for business and economic reporting. She has also held careers in healthcare, and currently runs her own freelance writing and marketing support firm.

She resides in Arizona with her oh-so-patient husband and her little black dog (who is equally patient). She no longer writes under the covers by flashlight. Usually.

Read more at C.K. Donnelly’s site.