Put on the spot like that, she couldn’t do anything else but shrug, which was as good a confirmation as any.
“I thought that perhaps the Nenavarene Zahiya-lachis wouldn’t be able to refuse an audience if I showed up on her doorstep.” Bieshimma’s expression soured. “Unfortunately, the palace guards nearly ran me through with their spears. Nearly ran my horse through, too. I fled on the poor beast without catching even a glimpse of Queen Urduja. But there was something that I did see.” He pointed at the X on the map. “On the way back to Port Samout, the sky to my left flashed as brilliantly as though the sun had come crashing down. A pillar of light shot out from a mountaintop, illuminating the heavens for miles upon miles around. I couldn’t investigate further as I needed to get back to the airship as soon as possible. After the scene I made in front of her palace, I feared that Urduja would call for my head and the heads of all my crew. However, I know what I saw.”
The general straightened up and steadily met Talasyn’s questioning gaze. “It was a Light Sever,” he stated. “Such a one as has not existed on the Continent since Gaheris invaded Sunstead and destroyed all instances of the Lightweave here.”
Talasyn’s eyes widened. A Light Sever. A tear that the aether had ripped into the material world, where the Lightweave existed without having to be summoned. A nexus point that she could tap into to amplify and refine her magic, in the same way that the Night Empire’s Legion grew in strength and skill because of the numerous Shadow Severs that dotted Kesath. Hope and excitement lanced through her.
Then she remembered precisely where this Light Sever was located, and her soaring emotions shifted into something that was close to dread.
She looked at Vela. “You want me to go to Nenavar. By myself.”
“I’m sorry to ask this of you,” said the Amirante, “but General Bieshimma is correct in his assumption that one wasp is less likely to be noticed. The way that things have gone with the Dominion, I doubt they’ll grant you free passage through their territory no matter how many envoys we send—and we don’t have the time to send any more. The Night Empire is closing in.”
Talasyn swallowed. “So, I need to infiltrate.”
“Get in, commune with the Light Sever, get out,” said Vela. “And don’t let anyone catch you.”
“Easier said than done,” Talasyn grumbled before remembering that she was supposed to abstain from wisecracks.
Vela frowned. “I’m serious, helmsman. We cannot risk angering the Nenavarene more than a certain someone already has with his little stunt.” She glanced at Bieshimma as if gauging his reaction, but his features barely rippled.
“I deserved that,” he said.
Vela’s lips twitched. However, when she spoke again, it was addressed to Talasyn. “Believe me, if I thought that requesting the Dominion’s assistance in this one matter would do any good—”
“No, you’re right, Amirante,” Talasyn interrupted, shaking her head. “We don’t have time.”
After a decade of conflict, Sardovia had been whittled down to half of its former land area. Less than half, now that the Highlands were all but lost. There was no other option. This was their last hope.
“The girl can’t just sail into Dominion territory with no preparation.” Darius spoke up for the first time since Bieshimma joined them. “If she gets caught, if she can’t fight her way out—”
“Good point.” Vela mulled it over for a while, her gaze fixed on the map, on the miles that needed to be traversed before reaching the Light Sever. “In a fortnight, then. Talasyn, starting tomorrow, you will be training more intensively with me and with Blademaster Kasdar. We’ll send you off to Nenavar fully equipped to defend yourself.”
“That also gives me enough time to sketch out the overland route to the Light Sever in as much detail as possible,” said Bieshimma. “I’ll cross-reference with what few historical documents and intelligence reports we have as well. I’ll do my best.”
Rolling up the map, he tucked it under one arm and saluted Vela before leaving the office. Alone with Vela and Darius once more, Talasyn sensed that the Amirante seemed worried—an odd emotion in such a stoic, unflappable woman.
“A fortnight isn’t nearly enough time, but it’s all that we can afford to spare,” Vela muttered. “Alaric won’t forget that you bested him in combat, Talasyn. He was a haughty, tenacious boy who grew up to become a prideful, unforgiving young man. I don’t even dare imagine what he’ll do when you encounter each other again.”
“Perhaps I killed him,” Talasyn offered with a shred of optimism. “Y’know, when I stabbed him in the shoulder.”
Darius let out a mirthless chuckle. “That would solve so many of our problems, wouldn’t it?”
“It will take more than a light-woven dagger to the shoulder to kill Alaric,” Vela said. “He is the most powerful Shadowforged to exist in centuries. There’s a reason he became Master of the Legion back when he was barely eighteen. The next time you face him, Talasyn, you need to be ready.”
Her heart in her throat, Talasyn thought about the dark prince she’d met out on the drifting ice. The lethal dance that he’d drawn her into. She thought about the way his gray eyes had shone silver beneath the seven moons, regarding her as if she were his prey.
She shivered.
Chapter Four
Two sennights crawled by. After her failed attempt at persuading Khaede to let the Amirante know of her condition so that she could take leave until the baby came, it was ironic that Talasyn found herself the one pulled out of active duty so that she could focus on training. Khaede had a good chortle at that, and Talasyn couldn’t begrudge her. There were precious few reasons for Khaede to even so much as smile these days. Talasyn had to concede that, in a way, it was probably for the best that Khaede was being kept busy with airship battles.
Their regiment’s new base was in the Wildermarch, a deep, fertile canyon in the Sardovian Heartland. Winter here was not as harsh as it was on the mountains, and the grounds were still tinged in a rather glorious autumn. It was a world away from the dilapidated orphanage in Hornbill’s Head. That leaky-roofed, rammed-earth compound tucked into the slums of a drab brown city where no trees grew, with its mold-flecked straw pallets and overflowing latrines and apathetic caretakers who spent all the meager funds on women and dice and riesag, a potent cocktail of distilled barley and fermented musk-ox milk that was the cheapest and most effective way to stay warm on the Great Steppe. No matter where she went, it was better than that, but Talasyn had scarce opportunity to appreciate the beauty of their new barracks.