27. Declan

Chapter 27

Declan

T he sun sat low on the horizon. Wind whipped pennants one way, then another. Pregnant clouds heralded another bout of winter’s rage.

Nothing stilled the clamor of activity on the streets of Saltstone.

The clanking of hammers on anvils and the scraping of saws struggling through stubborn logs rose above the clatter of horses and the chatter of men. Bitter, tar-filled smoke from never-failing hearths mingled with the tang of manure from the thousands of horses held within. It took a while for my nose to numb and my eyes to stop watering.

Everywhere I looked, men and women hauled wood and stone toward the walls. I lost count of the carts carrying barrels of newly fletched arrows. Soldiers in crisp navy coats scurried from one place to the next, carrying messages or following orders.

I’d never seen the place so alive—or so crammed.

If I’d been traveling alone, without a complement of soldiers parting the way before me, I might never have reached the Triad’s marble edifice.

Despite growing up in Saltstone, I had never actually entered the nation’s capital building. I caught myself staring up at the towering white structure that spanned dozens of feet taller than the tallest building around. Two massive doors, inlaid with the crest of Melucia, stared down as we approached.

The procession halted a few paces from the doors.

The guard who’d questioned us outside the gate snapped to attention. “The Triad awaits you in the Chamber of the Eye, Mage Rea.”

“Chamber of the Eye? How dramatic. You might need to do that thing with your underwear again.”

“Not helping, Miss High Holy of Magic.”

“Ooh. I like that. Maybe you should call me that instead of Daughter.”

I stifled a laugh as I realized the guard, still at attention, was gaping.

In that moment, I wondered what a mental conversation looked like to an innocent bystander who didn’t even know a conversation was taking place. That thought did make me laugh out loud, earning a curious gaze from the other soldiers standing nearby.

My eyes darted from one soldier to the next, and I schooled my expression, realizing I was supposed to hold rank here. “Right. Thank you, soldier. We will need our horse stabled,” I said as I dismounted.

órla hopped from my shoulder and flew to rest on the railing atop the stairs.

I removed my cloak and stuffed it into one of the saddlebags. When I turned, each of the soldiers shared a look of unabashed awe and stepped back. I had already forgotten about the golden color of my tunic and the Phoenix on my chest.

This is really going to take getting used to, I thought.

One of the soldiers who had escorted us stepped forward. “I’ll take your horse to the stables at the Mages’ Guild. That’s where you’re staying, isn’t it?”

I hadn’t thought that far ahead but didn’t want to sound unsure in front of the men. “Of course. That’s fine. Thank you, Sergeant.”

The man snapped to attention, offered a crisp salute, grabbed the reins, and disappeared down the street. I turned toward the marble building and strode through its majestic doors. As I passed órla, she hopped onto my outstretched arm.

Angry voices greeted us as we entered the Triad’s chamber.

“What in the holy hells is so important that I had to be called from shoring up our defenses? The last thing I need is another pointless meeting,” General Vre boomed throughout the chamber.

Guildmaster Burner sat slumped in his chair. “We expect another ten supply shipments from coastal cities before the night is over. None of us has time to waste, General, but if Velius says this boy’s report is important, we should listen. The three of us must stand united if our people are to do the same.”

“Thank you, Ceryl.” Arch Mage Quin inclined his head toward the portly Guildmaster. “I do not know the details, Titus, but a Ranger showed up alive at our gate with a talking owl on his shoulder—and he used our phrase. I would say he is worth a moment or two of our time.”

“You said he was a Ranger. What in Spirits is he wearing?” Vre whispered to Quin as I strode into the circle of thrones and stepped atop the Eye. A sliver of moonlight peeking through the clouds and shining through the oculus above added little to the soft light of lamps scattered throughout the chamber.

I tried to stand tall with my back straight.

I had never been so nervous.

Giving speeches had never been an impressive skill of mine. Talking to powerful men was even less so. I only hoped the three seated around me couldn’t see my nerves. I found myself wishing for Ayden. His wit was quick, and his tongue sharp.

“Ranger?” Vre usurped the Arch Mage’s traditional role as leader of discussions. “Tell us your news. We have no time to waste—and what in the holy fuck are you wearing? We should have you stripped and flogged right here.”

I squared with the General.

As I spoke, the tunic responded, its gilded hue pulsing as if angered.

“Grove’s Pass has been destroyed. The Rangers are gone. All of them. ”

Vre blinked, then leaned forward.

Guildmaster Burner spoke first. “What do you mean by all the Rangers?”

“Any Rangers posted in towns east of the mountains . . . they are all that remain of our force. The headquarters is rubble atop a grave.”

I stepped toward Vre, stopping at the edge of the Eye. “Kingdom soldiers and Mages hold the pass. At least fifty thousand men were camped across the border recently. I expect they have marched since I saw them last.”

“Fifty thousand?” Vre sat back.

“With more arriving each day . . . plus siege engines and horses.”

“When you say, ‘destroyed,’ what do you mean?” Burner asked. “The Ranger headquarters was built by Mages . . . using magic . . . surely—”

“There is nothing left, Guildmaster.” I turned to face him. “Not a single person lives. Only a half dozen houses in the town remain. Grove’s Pass is little more than ashes.”

“I knew they were planning something ,” Burner muttered. “I warned Whitman. But . . . to wipe a whole town off the map? To not even take it to use for your own men? Why do such a thing?”

Quin leaned forward. “I believe someone seeks our attention.”

“By killing our entire border force? All the Rangers?” Vre looked up, dismayed. “I talked to a boy, a messenger Whitman sent with a report of scouts in the woods, but I never dreamed something like this could happen.”

Silence loomed as the men grappled with what they’d just learned. Melucia’s most important defensive position—the bottleneck to stop any incursion—and over a thousand Rangers . . . gone.

The Arch Mage broke the stillness as he began piecing things together, his voice trembling. “You are Declan Rea? Brother of Guard-Lieutenant Keelan Rea?”

I nodded. “I am.”

“Did Mage Dani deliver my . . . instructions ? Did you perform as requested?” Quin asked meaningfully.

“He did, and I did.”

Vre and Burner shared confounded looks. Vre started to ask, “Quin, what’s this—”

“And?” Quin stood and braced himself on the arms of his chair, anticipation exploding from him. “Boy, tell me what happened. What of the Keeper? What of aid?”

I tossed back my cloak, and the Phoenix on my tunic flared brightly at Quin’s challenge. My eyes steeled. “The Keeper is well and sent aid. I am pleased to introduce órlaith, the Daughter of Magic.”

I raised my arm and looked to the owl for the first time since entering.

On cue, órla flapped from my arm to rest on the rim of Quin’s chair back. Her aura raged, mirroring the intensity of my tunic.

órla’s voice held rich, smoky notes and echoed through the stone hall. “And may I introduce Declan Rea, no longer a simple Ranger of Melucia, now Heir of Magic —our best hope for survival in the war to come.”

Vre and Burner shot to their feet, their jaws agape.

Burner dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

“Get up, Ceryl,” Vre chided.

Burner rose, eyes wide. “The owl spoke . Did you not hear that? And . . . she’s . . . she’s glowing!”

“Would you two stop chattering and listen for a moment?” Quin snapped. “Go on, Ranger Rea.”

“Larinda sends her regards, Arch Mage.” I smiled as Quin’s face brightened.

“That old bird?” His laughter was the sound of pure delight. “What of the Keeper? And . . .” His voice trailed off as his eyes strayed to Burner.

“He does not trust the others,” órla’s words echoed my thoughts.

“The Keeper is well. He is an odd man and offers even more interesting . . . greetings.”

Quin’s smile widened. “Yes, that would be him. And you passed his tests?”

I nodded.

Quin fell back into his seat, relief flooding his face. “Dear Spirits, that is good. That is very good.”

Vre couldn’t contain himself. “I don’t understand any of this. Back to the border. What of Grove’s Pass? Of our defensive position there? It can’t be as bad as—”

“Perhaps it would be easier if I showed you.” I drew myself up and spoke calmly. “You may want to sit for this.”

Vre and Burner returned to their seats as I stepped away from the Eye. I closed my eyes, and images of Grove’s Pass formed in the three leaders’ minds. My illusion spared no detail. I recalled my conversation with the spirit, and all the horrors the dead man recounted of the attack. The illusion should have only created images, but my emotions poured into their minds: anger, heartache, grief—and fear—so much fear.

Silence echoed throughout the chamber.

Vre finally spoke in an anguished whisper. “They surprised our people, slaughtered them before they could respond. They slaughtered women in their nightclothes carrying children. They dragged them into the streets.”

“They are headed to Saltstone. All of them.” I nodded. “Before I left on the Arch Mage’s mission, I saw their armies encamped across the border. I couldn’t count all the trebuchets and towers.”

“We received reports of their buildup. It’s why we added rings of barricades and heightened the walls. We have turned the whole city, the whole country, toward defensive preparations. Our only solace is that we have months before they can cross the mountains, then another month or more before they can mount an offensive here.”

“I would not count on having until spring.” I turned to Quin. “I don’t know how to explain this. There’s still so much to magic I don’t understand, but the currents are disturbed. Larinda and the Keeper said they are more turbulent than at any point in their lives, and events are moving more quickly than they should. How I know this, I cannot say, but we are running out of time.”

Quin stared into the Eye, transfixed. When he finally spoke, his question surprised me. “What did you learn on your trip? According to Mage Dani, you were Mute when you left, and now you wear a golden tunic with the Phoenix splashed across your chest. No one has worn more than three golden bands in a thousand years. What does it mean?”

I looked at órla. “The tunic was Larinda’s gift, but órla, why don’t you answer the Arch Mage’s question?”

Everyone turned to the owl still perched on Quin’s chair.

“Declan now commands the magic of Water, Air, Healing, and Illusion—among others.”

“Didn’t want to show all our cards?” I cocked a brow.

“Not a chance. Remember, Keelan said there was at least one spy, possibly among these men.”

“Four Gifts? More than four?” Burner gaped.

“More than four.” I nodded. “We will need more than my magic if we are to survive what is coming. We will need every Mage working together. If I understand correctly, the Kingdom has four times our number of men and arms?”

Vre quickly wiped the stunned look from his face and answered carefully. “Our numbers . . . they do outnumber us by a fair amount.”

“How can your education with the Keeper help, Declan?” Quin asked.

“Arch Mage, I have no military training beyond scouting mountains and forests, and I’m not a strategic genius by any measure, but I have learned a few things about magic. I would like to work with you to prepare our Mages, anyone with Gifts of Fire, Water, Air, or Earth, in particular. If we combine what I learned with the power of your Mages and the tower, we might be able to neutralize their advantage in numbers.”

Quin steepled his fingers, nodding thoughtfully. “General Vre, I believe there may be value to your men here, as well. Morale in the city is decent at the moment, but news of Grove’s Pass may change that. The enemy staring from across our fields certainly will. With Declan’s new title—and his legendary friend—he may be able to bolster the troops when the skies darken.”

Vre nodded. “That’s actually a good idea. Ceryl, we should have our staffs work together to craft the story we want told. We’ll need to shape this thing if it’s going to work, then get it told in every tavern and inn across the city. Hells, across the country.”

Quin rose. “Declan, you must be exhausted. I will meet you at the Guild Hall. Our people will prepare a room as well.” He turned to órla and bowed. “Daughter, how should we prepare for your stay?”

She flapped back to my arm. “I will remain with my Bond-Mate, but if your kitchen has a few chunks of raw meat about, I would be grateful.”

A half hour later, a large platter of roasted fowl sat beside bowls filled with a wide variety of vegetables, nuts, and fruits. I hardly knew where to start, or why the Arch Mage had such a spread laid out only a few weeks before a siege. Food would be their most precious resource. Why weren’t they conserving it?

Quin peered over the rim of the cup of magical wine I had shared, his eyes wide with awe and pleasure.

“It has been a very long time since I enjoyed this . . . vintage. Where did you find it?”

I smiled and shrouded my answer. “I found many interesting things on your mission.”

Quin laughed. “I see you learned to answer questions like a Mage, too. That may prove frustrating for others over time, but I suspect you will learn to enjoy their annoyed glares as much as I have over the centuries.”

I grunted and shoved another bite into my mouth. “I’ve seen the physical preparations, but you said little about what your Mages are doing. Given what I learned on Rea Utu, I would think our magical advantage should be put to good use.”

Quin pulled a small gilded box from his robe and muttered a few words. A rune on the box shimmered with golden light, then faded. “Now we may speak freely. With the enemy approaching, we must be more vigilant than ever. There is no way to be sure we discovered all their spies in our midst.”

My eyes widened, feigning surprise. “Spies? Here?”

Quin described those they found among Burner’s staff, and how they had stolen the seal later used to frame the Triad for the kidnappings in the Kingdom.

“That created the whole basis for their invasion, at least initially. Something like that took years of planning and preparation. There is no telling how long that spy was in place before he gained access to the private quarters of the Guildmaster. Even then, he had to learn to defeat the Enchantments I personally placed on Burner’s chamber and desk. The implications of how deeply they have penetrated our government are troubling.”

Quin savored another sip, then set his cup down. “You asked about our magical defenses, not spies. I think our guests may come to appreciate the ingenuity of Melucia’s Mages’ Guild. I doubt they will like us much but may earn a touch of respect.”

The sinister look in the Arch Mage’s eyes caught me by surprise. “Really? I never saw that much military prowess when I lived here, just a bunch of old men playing with magic. Granted, they’re smart old men, and they’re really good with magic, but they’re definitely not soldiers.”

“No, they are not soldiers, but one of the first lessons a Mage learns is how to take instruction. They simply need to be guided on how to redirect their magic to more helpful uses. Take Fergus.”

“Uncle Ferg? Seriously?” I barked a laugh. “He might slay a dinner roll, but he’d still struggle with the butter knife.”

Quin’s ageless skin crinkled. “You might be surprised. Did you ever ask him about his Gift?”

I thought a moment. “No. I don’t think we ever talked about magic. No one saw much use in talking to me about that, not once they thought I wouldn’t be getting magic of my own.”

“He can purify water or food. That has certainly come in handy over the years here in the guild, especially when the larders ran out of ice, or cooks forgot to put everything away. How do you think we might use that Gift in our current situation?”

“Well, the enemy will probably try to starve us out, so he can stave off that problem. With the rivers running through Saltstone, and the snow on the Silver Mountains, we should never run out of water. I can’t say the same for their side. There’s no fresh water anywhere outside our western wall.”

“Yes, all true. Think offensively . How could Fergus hurt the enemy?” Quin sat back.

I thought through my next few bites as Quin sat patiently.

“I don’t know. Everything Fergus does helps people. He cleanses. I don’t know how that could be used to actually harm someone.”

Quin leaned forward again. “Declan, any Gift can be inverted.”

“Inverted?”

“Yes, inverted. Stay with Fergus. He uses his Gift to cleanse and purify, but what is the opposite of those actions?”

“I guess to make something go bad or . . .” Understanding spread through me. “Arch Mage, the Phoenix would never—”

“The Phoenix would allow us to defend ourselves,” Quin said flatly. “Imagine the havoc our innocent little Fergus could create if he had access to the enemy’s supplies, or their water source. Could that same ability weaken the properties of glues or leathers or wood? We are not sure about those last things, but that is how creatively we are thinking. Now, apply that to every Gift you know. That is your Mages’ Guild turned martial.”

My head swam at the possibilities.

I chewed faster and downed the last of my wine.

“I knew I could draw air and water from most anything. That could be devastating. It is almost impossible to control, and I would likely end up killing our own people.” I thought a moment. “If we could make their horses sick, or mentally disrupt their Mages, or make their generals hated instead of Charismatic, or flood their men with Empathetic power so the fear was overwhelming, or—”

Quin held up his hands in surrender and laughed. “Yes, all of that.”

“We might actually survive this thing.” I absently ran my hands through my long, dingy hair.

My mind raced with ideas, with possibilities.

Just as my spirits began to soar with thoughts of survival and victory, a warmth tickled my chest, and my tunic turned from shimmering gold to a dark, putrid color. The Phoenix dulled to near invisibility. I ran a hand over its fabric as Quin stared thoughtfully.

órla landed lightly on the table and spoke aloud for both men to hear. “Magic abhors being turned on itself. Declan, you are not simply bonded with me. You are magic. If you follow this path, I fear the price demanded may be more than you would wish to pay.”

My heart ached with guilt.

Using magic to harm another went against everything the Phoenix stood for. I tried to grasp lessons from my time on the island, to see my teacher, to hear . . . her voice? I was so close to seeing those days in my mind, yet they remained elusive memories lost to time.

Still, I knew what Quin proposed to be wrong. It sounded wrong as he spoke. It felt wrong as I saw it play out in my mind’s eye.

“Price? What do you mean?”

“You have felt the price magic exacts when a Gift is used normally. You become fatigued, mentally, physically, spiritually. The level of fatigue deepens with the strength and duration of magic used.”

I nodded. “I’ve certainly felt wrung out after a day of practice.”

“You recover quickly with rest and food.” She paused, and I nodded. “However, using inverted magic drains the user’s life force. You might kill your opponent, but you would also be killing yourself.”

My brows rose, and a hand fled back into my hair. I leaned back and looked at Quin. He didn’t look surprised by órla’s pronouncement.

“Is there any way to recover from that? Or to counter it, or strengthen a Mage?”

“There is none.” Quin shrugged. “A weak Mage might lose years of life with a single use. A powerful one, drawing on more of the currents, might die within days of inverted casting.”

No one spoke.

órla tottered to settle against my arm.

My head ached at possibilities, and consequences.

Quin finally stood. “Get some rest. You can join the Mages’ Council tomorrow and learn more of our plans. I would appreciate a fresh pair of eyes. That goes for you, too, órla. No one understands magic like its Daughter.”

“Did you hear that? You should listen to him more often.”