“As much as I enjoy your company, Keiron,” she managed, “I think it would be most advantageous for me to try my hand against everyone.”
Keiron nodded, and the two of them headed back to the south side of the city where Jahrra and her companions resided. The regent’s son wished her a good evening and promised to meet her again in the morning at sunup.
Jahrra lingered outside for a while, watching him disappear up the street, then stepped into her cabin to find Dervit and Ellyesce playing a game of Astral cards.
Ellyesce turned to look at her and arched an eyebrow. “Have a productive day?”
“Yes, actually,” Jahrra answered easily. “Keiron took me to walk the wall, and then we sparred for a few hours in the practice yard the regent’s guard uses.”
She huffed a breath and collapsed on the couch next to Dervit. She turned to her friend and grimaced.
“Sorry I left you behind,” she said, “but Keiron caught up to me in the stables, and as soon as he mentioned sparring, I was lost.”
Dervit smiled amiably and said, “That’s okay. I was worried when you didn’t return, but the boy at the stable told me where you’d gone.”
“We’ll go out exploring tomorrow, just the two of us,” she promised.
The limbit smiled brightly then asked, “How did the sparring go?”
Jahrra beamed. “It felt great to work out with a sword again.”
“I’ll bet,” Ellyesce commented, deftly snatching two cards from his hand and switching them out for two others.
Jahrra felt exhausted from the day’s efforts, but craned her neck forward to watch their game. “Can you deal me in the next round?”
“Sure can,” Ellyesce said cheerily.
They played Astral until Jaax returned around sunset. He looked irritated and just as worn out as Jahrra felt.
“So, how was your day?” she asked her guardian through the open door.
“Nightmarish,” Jaax grumbled, flopping down onto the ground outside like a hound returning from a daylong hunt. “I spent the morning playing the gracious guest to Morivan, then the rest of the day scouring the surrounding mountains for the Tyrant’s bloodhounds. Not a trace of them anywhere.”
Jahrra stilled, remembering what Keiron had said to her on the wall. She glanced back at her cards and chose the three she wanted to exchange before looking back at her guardian.
“Keiron told me the men disappeared around the bend in the road after you breathed fire on them,” she said.
Jaax lifted his head from where it rested on his feet to focus on her. “When did he tell you this?”
Jahrra shrugged. “Today. This morning. He found me in the stable with Phrym and invited me to walk along the wall with him, and then we headed to the sparring field to get some practice in.”
Jaax grew suddenly still, and Jahrra could feel the aggression rolling off him.
“I would not have allowed you to go had I been present when he asked you,” Jaax said, his voice low and soft. Unyielding.
Jahrra set her cards down slowly, their faces pressed against the table so Dervit and Ellyesce couldn’t see them. The two of them were busy arguing over the value of their card combinations, so they were unaware of the conversation taking place between Jaax and Jahrra.
“Jahrra,” Jaax said, in that same chilling tone, “how could you make yourself so visible by walking along the top of the wall? On the day after we struggled to get you safely behind it?”
“Keiron said,” Jahrra began, her throat closing up.
“I do not care what Keiron said! Have some sense! I cannot believe you were unable to figure that out yourself!” he hissed. “The Crimson King’s men are not normal soldiers. They have dark mages with them, magicians capable of all manner of tricks and illusions! Had one of them seen you and wanted you dead, it would have been as simple as snapping their fingers. One well-placed arrow would have taken you out. How do you think their arrows were able to reach you from so far away yesterday? Those mages aided their flight with magic. You cannot be so careless again!”
By the end of his tirade, Jaax’s voice had risen loud enough for Ellyesce and Dervit to notice. Their game forgotten, both the elf and the limbit turned their heads in the direction of their other two companions. They did not speak, but regarded their friends in cautious silence.
Jahrra’s face burned from her guardian’s reprimand. She wanted to grit her teeth and tell him he was being ridiculous and overbearing. But deep down, she knew he was right. She had let Keiron charm her, and she’d brushed aside her better sense when it had told her that walking in plain sight of the enemy was a mistake. Keiron hadn’t meant to put her in danger, she was sure of it. He had wanted to impress her maybe. Make her like him. Well, that was working. She did like him. But she should have listened to her instincts from the beginning.
“I-I’m sorry Jaax,” she managed. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking it through.”
Jaax clenched his jaw and breathed through his nose. He nodded once, then added in a much less formidable voice, “Do not scare me like that again, Jahrra. Please. You must think every single one of your actions through from now on.”
There was a time, not too long ago, when the two of them would have stubbornly refused to compromise about such things. Jahrra would remain angry at Jaax because he was revealing truths she didn’t want to accept, and he would refuse to bend even an inch when doing so would cause no harm to either. It wasn’t like that anymore; it couldn’t be like that anymore. This dangerous game they’d been training for for so long had finally been put into motion, and they could no longer let their headstrong, stubborn demeanors stand in the way of their progress.
Jahrra ducked her head once, then tried to get back into the card game. Only, Ellyesce and Dervit were cleaning up, the awkwardness of Jaax’s volatile reaction to Jahrra’s news weighing too heavily upon them. Jahrra sighed, disappointed but sympathetic as to why they were ready to call it a night. Besides, she was practically falling asleep where she sat, the exhaustion from the training and the emotional whirlwind she’d just experienced taking their toll. She had made a mistake today, but tomorrow she would do better. She would practice with Keiron in the morning and that was all. She would not let him coerce her into doing anything so reckless again.
Boriahs crouched upon the granite shelf suspended above the only road leading north into Cahrdyarein. The sun was just cresting the jagged peaks in the east, its brilliance piercing his bloodshot eyes and conjuring an ache in his head. He gritted his teeth and placed a palm to his brow, the blood from the wound in his hand staining his hair. He had managed to find a scrying pool, but, as he had suspected, his Master was not happy with the news he’d reported.
“We nearly had them, Master,” he’d murmured, his knees pressed against the top of the solid granite monolith he’d climbed before dawn.
“Not good enough,” the demon god had snarled, using Cierryon’s lips to speak.
Boriahs had witnessed many horrors throughout his long life, but nothing turned his stomach so terribly as gazing into the dead eyes of the Crimson King.
“They are within the wall,” he heard himself saying. “But–”
Before he could continue, the ground rumbled and a chunk of rock fell, shattering just beside him. A shard of granite shot through the air, burying itself in his cheek. Boriahs winced, but dared not move to remove it.
“I do not care for your excuses,” the god-king snapped. “Contact me no more until you have something worthwhile to report.”
And then, the puddle shuddered, and the image of his king vanished. Boriahs reached up with his injured hand and wiped away the blood trickling down his face. When he pulled his hand back, it was stained red, but he could not tell from which injury the blood had come, his cheek or his hand.