32

Within an hour, perhaps two, the group had left Róntraih Porto Cuidat. Although urgency had quickened their exit, the horses kept an easy trot rather than racing. Many times over the next few days, Arash darted ahead, his restless energy bursting out of him until he stopped to wait for their slower mounts to catch up. Their anxiety was so thick, they barely managed conversation during the first days out of Róntraih. Their movements and silences were tense, and the training between Marya and Valerius more fervent than before. Hamasa did his best to join them, but he spent most of their limited rest times with Arash in quiet discussion about what spells would work best finding the emblem. He talked Arash through trying a few obscurer ones a few times. The hills and low brush of the west become the sparse woods of the southeast. Woods that gradually grew thicker and blazed with autumn golds and reds. When the gleaming blue ribbon of the Réo Largo appeared on the horizon, they veered east. The Ajul Mountains loomed ahead; the range bisected the entirety of the continent, Mekshi on the west, what once was Sangsierpe on the east, until they crumpled into rocky hills between the Harenae desert and the Riyushu bay.

One of the last standing cities at the base of the mountains was Vallepidras. It was one of the few cities Hamasa had visited in the past, with the first true university built upon the ruins of the old Mekshan capital. The Serra Falls became the mouth of the Réo Largo there, as well as carving the beginning of a path through the range into Sangsierpe. Something that sent shivers of dread through all four of them as they stared down at the map. For the past few years, more and more people were leaving Vallepidras, the city too close to the shadows of Sangsierpe’s tragedy. Mists crept through the blocked mountain pass and left dozens ill in the darkest months of the year.

They stopped to rest outside Vallepidras on the banks of the Réo Largo. This close to the mountains the river was rockier and swifter and more dangerous than the wide, slow thing it was farther downriver. As they crowded around the open map for what felt like the thousandth time, the wild rushing roared in Hamasa’s ears. His skin prickled with bumps and the hair on his head rose. He couldn’t tell if was it the sound of the river that reminded him of the night he fell because he’d been near it, or if it was the roaring that reminded him the Beast that had stalked him.

“Are we sure that’s the best place to go?” Marya asked while rolling up the map.

Arash and Hamasa glanced at each other.

“I don’t remember being that close,” Hamasa said quietly, “but if I was flung so far north…”

“There’s a chance the emblem was thrown as far in another direction,” Valerius finished. Hamasa nodded.

“I think there’s a good chance it’s in Sangsierpe,” Arash said with a low, tired hiss. “I still can’t feel it and I should be able to feel it.”

“Shouldn’t Hamasa feel it?” Marya asked glancing between them.

“Maybe not,” Hamasa said, the creases around his eyes pulled tight as he tried to smile. And probably failed. “It’s been weeks and my own magic is tied to the emblem.”

“Which is why you used that old Mekshan spell, using the natural magic you told me about,” Marya said. Hamasa nodded.

“We’ll find it,” Valerius stated firmly. Hamasa’s expression relaxed into something a bit more sincere. “It’s time for spear practice, Marya.”

“We’ll set up lunch,” Hamasa offered.

“I guess I’ll help. The faster it’s done, the faster I can try locating the emblem again,” Arash said with his own short huff.

Setting up lunch was just unpacking a few bits of ready dried foods and a bit of cheese and fruits that hadn’t spoiled yet. Arash lingered long enough to press his forehead to Hamasa’s, and then went hunting for himself. Once his shadow slipped out of sight, Hamasa closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his legs. The only people they had met on the Great Road during the times they actually travelled on it had only been talked about Harenae, Harenae, Harenae. And of course, the simmering worry about the Sovereign’s Shield still missing. Rumors of ships that were seen sailing from around the northern tip of Mekshi, and coming in from the west, and coming up the southwestern coast; ships with three banks of oars and painted bloody red. Harenese battle ships closing in on every side. It looked more and more as if the would-be King of Harenae would force a war before winter, with or without confirmation of the Shield’s death.

Hamasa shuddered and pressed his eyes to his knees.

War. War was coming. The Merciless with it. How could he leave her to face it alone? But how could he face it? He had already lost. He’d already done irrevocable damage and if anyone found out… His last secret beat against his teeth and choked back to save her. His selfish cowardice would get her killed. It was delayed only marginally by this last secret.

Next to him came the sound of quiet footsteps. They paused, and then the body attached settled on the ground beside him. It could only be Valerius, with that height and breadth. Hamasa peeked to the side with one eye. He was looking down at him, silent and pensive and dewed with sweat. Marya finally giving him work to do, it seemed. Hamasa smiled and ducked his head against his knees, sighing softly at the gentle, warm-but-cool touch of Valerius’ bare hand to Hamasa’s shoulder.

“You’ve become more withdrawn since we left Róntraih,” Valerius observed.

“Mekshi is huge,” Hamasa said, voice muffled by his thighs. “I was flung clear across it when I… when I was separated from my emblem. For all we know, it was flung into the sea and now it’s sunk to the bottom completely out of our reach. None of you can be the First Sovereign of Mekshi and dive to the bottom to fetch my pearl.” Hamasa snorted softly.

“Wasn’t that a mistranslation?”

“Pearl, stone, emblem. It doesn’t matter.” But he was smiling crookedly where it couldn’t be seen.

“Of course it matters. Your soul matters,” a beat, “Hamasa.”

Hamasa’s lips trembled. “What am I supposed to do, Valerius? I… I’m not even sure I want to find it.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it also was. He wasn’t unsure, he was certain. But how would anyone understand not wanting your own soul?

Valerius remained silent. Choosing his words carefully? Or dumbstruck? He picked up the sounds of Marya murmuring to the stolen horse, petting and bribing the gelding with pieces of apple and cane sugar far from where they sat. It wasn’t like her to not be nosy.

“No one wants to face a war,” Valerius said at last. Hamasa jerked a little. “No one wants what happened to Sangsierpe to happen again. Wanting won’t delay the inevitable, though. You made a vow. I made one, too. Part of that vow is to protect all the people living under the Sovereign’s protection. People such as Marya and her mother, and all those innocent Others we saved outside Ristahe. That little girl and her mother the candy seller.”

“And the Salvatropas?” Hamasa asked, teasing just a bit. Ignoring the ache that all those people created in him. People he didn’t want hurt. People he didn’t want to suffer. The Merciless was out there, and their devastating ability to destroy the very air everyone breathed, the land everyone stood on.

“Even them,” Valerius admitted. The admission was blunt and forced, making Hamasa chuckle. It died away quickly and he raised his head slowly.

“If I don’t go, all those people, their lives will be on my hands. If they die… it’ll be my fault,” Hamasa said woodenly. Valerius’ sharply refined features blurred into mush. Is this how Valerius Kaecus saw the world? “If I do go back, if I fight and fail, they’ll still die. It’ll still be my fault.”

“My l—Hamasa—”

“Let’s say I go back. I fight. I somehow triumph against the monster that killed my father, and we win this bloody, stupid, horrible war, won’t it just mean more dead on account of me?” Hamasa’s fists curled tight. “You can label them enemies, but whatever they’re called, they’re still people. And the Merciless? Another dragon. The idea of killing a dragon…” Hamasa shuddered all over, gulping down the taste of bile. “It’s against all my instincts to kill my kind. It’s what makes them a Beast. Do I have to become a Beast, too?”

“We don’t always have a choice,” Valerius said. “Sometimes to protect and defend, this is the only thing we can do. Fight and kill, or fight and die.”

“For what? Why?” Hamasa snapped, eyes flashing angrily. “This isn’t what I wanted! This isn’t what I thought would happen! I just wanted…”

He closed his eyes. In his mind, it happened all over again. The breaking of his heart as fresh now as seventeen years ago when he heard of his father’s death; snuffed out like a candle instead of the fiery inferno he’d been for thousands of years. His mother’s scream of grief rending the endless skies with flame. And finally, the call of that tiny voice that needed him. A tiny child’s hand reaching out to touch the too-hot golden spike on his snout and the overwhelming relief when she didn’t burn.

“I never should’ve thought I could be like him,” Hamasa whispered. Tears filmed his lashes and his bottom lip trembled.

“I don’t understand what you are saying,” Valerius said after a moment. Hamasa hissed through his teeth. “Whatever the consequences, you have to fulfill the vow you made. You don’t have to be your father to be strong enough.”

“What if… what if I don’t want to?” Hamasa asked, voice quavering.

“It doesn’t matter what you want.”

Hamasa flinched and laughed, harsh and short. “Don’t you ever regret choices you’ve made?”

“I don’t let myself. Regret is useless,” Valerius stated with a conviction Hamasa had never felt. “You can’t change the past.”

“What about being a Lance?” Hamasa asked, his scowl almost matching Valerius’. It was better than crying again. “You gave up your right to head your house, your place in line for the throne, lost your friends—” He broke off and swallowed hard.

“I would never regret it.” Valerius said quietly. Hamasa looked up through his bangs, heart thudding to the words: You will. You will. “My motives to be a Lance have always been less than altruistic.”

Hamasa blinked, absolutely bewildered. “What?”

“My motive was always to serve you, my lord.”

“But why?” Hamasa sputtered stupidly.

“You were hope, you are hope,” Valerius said. He looked over Hamasa’s face, lingered on his scars, his eyes, his nose. As if trying to memorize it. “Mekshi was at its darkest moment. Everyone thought no dragon would come and no Sovereign would be Chosen. The Empire was going to crumple under the weight of the infighting and desperation. I was only ten and I could feel the fear everywhere I went. When you came, the fear was gone and the Empire was safe. I knew I could never be you, and I could never be Chosen. But one day… One day I could be strong enough to be someone’s hope. I could fight fear itself.”

His lips curved into a real smile as his eyes fell to his hands.

“Emerens…” Hamasa choked softly. He pressed his mouth shut, hand yanking back from where he’d reached out to touch Valerius’ arm.

“You don’t have to be your father, because you’re you.”

Hamasa couldn’t speak. There were no words to reply. How could he argue that Valerius’ duty, his entire purpose since he was a child of ten, was shallow and empty? Based only on an ideal of a thing, not even a person. How could he argue, especially because… for a moment… Hamasa wanted to be that thing up on the pedestal. Be the hope that inspired someone like Valerius. Fighting fear itself.

His fingers curled in the air, his hand dropped, and he stared at the dirt. A shadow passed overhead and frost followed in the wake of it. It would be time to go soon. Valerius moved to stand, one hand on the ground next to Hamasa’s. Large and fair next to small and dark.

“No matter what happens,” Hamasa blurted. Valerius stilled and Hamasa licked his lips. “I believe you’re a good man, a better man than Kana’iro the Red and the Shield deserved. It’s all I have to give you for all your faith in me.”

“Have faith in me in return and in this country you Chose. As Marya says, we’ll fight together.”

Hamasa watched Valerius go, afternoon sunlight shining on his hair, heart thudding agonizingly. There was nothing else to say.

***

Continuing on towards Vallepidras sunk Hamasa’s already worn down spirit further. The Great Road, which they’d left for some of their journey to ride as the crow flies, was slowly filling with other travelers. All of them heading away from the city, many of them families. Wagons and carts, donkeys and shaggy-furred horses pulling them behind, took up the width of the Road so much that the three riders got down and walked the horses. Which was quickly proven a smart choice as the Road became pitted and rutted, each step a second of inattention away from turning an ankle.

“There are so many people leaving,” Marya whispered, leaning towards Hamasa.

“It’ll have been ordered by the local Sicho. The pass is blocked, but the city is very close to the Harenese border. Some of these people are coming from farther south, too,” Valerius replied, obviously overhearing her remark.

“It’s the only thing they can do without a Shield, and two dragons being allies with Harenae,” Hamasa muttered.

“Not every continent on this filthy mudball has dragons in it to fight their wars for them. You’re not a weapon,” Arash said sharply. His gaze cut towards Valerius with a curl to his top lip.

“He made a vow. He has a Chosen,” Valerius said, just as sharp.

Hamasa licked his lips and ducked his head.

“We’ll get into the city before nightfall,” Valerius continued. His eyes were back to scanning the finally thinning out crowds. “I haven’t been here since I was a squire, but I remember enough.”

“And tomorrow we’ll go straight into the mountains?” Marya asked.

“This close, there’s a spell Hamasa and I can try. I wanted to wait to save Hamasa,” Arash told her.

“Save Hamasa from what?”

“It’s tiring,” Hamasa answered quickly, his mouth drying and his eyes on Arash. Warning him for silence. Arash scowled, but his mouth stayed shut. “The spell goes on until the object is found and I’ll be tired while it goes.”

“We could make a token and use my magic,” Arash grumbled.

“Rubies aren’t free here,” Hamasa sighed.

“Here? Are rubies free somewhere else?” Marya exclaimed with wide eyes.

Fortunately, the hazy shape of the city began to form into real shapes and Marya was distracted by the city unfolding in front of them. Their first glimpse of the city was two towering crags that cradled the city between them, the Manos Sagradas. Then, a wagon moved past and the tall spires of the university of Vallepidras rose over the horizon. The rest of the city’s roofs sat at less than half the height. At the highest peaks of the university were a half dozen spires with a rounded shape at the very tip—the encircled “pearl” of the Empire, Hamasa remembered. All the buildings gleamed a buttery warm tan with brownish-red tiles on gently sloping roofs. They almost melted into the sunset, the Great Road becoming a golden main avenue through the center to the university itself. Outside the city, trees were growing in long, even lines, the smell of citruses and avocados and rich loamy earth filling the air. If the shadow of the Merciless wasn’t hounding their heels and the sight of the evacuees wasn’t on every side of them, the grand city of Vallepidras would’ve been uplifting.

A thrill ran down Hamasa’s spine—the bad kind. The snap of pennants, the rattle of iron and steel, the constant thundering of the ground under his feet as horses marched in eerie unison. He spun around, breath catching, and stared at the tall poles held upright in stirrups and horses that looked nothing like the long-furred, stocky breed of the locals. And looked a lot like Nerva and the stolen silver horse that walked on either side of them.

“Lances!” Marya said, some of her farm-girl enthusiasm leaking through.

Valerius tensed, so still and silent he didn’t seem to be breathing. His hand curled into a fist at his side.

“What’s going to happen if they see you?” Hamasa asked. The feeling from before, of missing something important, like taking a step and only finding air, returned. “Kelso said…”

“I’m a deserter. I’ll be arrested,” Valerius said, fist clenching harder, jaw taut.

“Hamasa doesn’t have his soul rock yet. He can’t prove you were right!” Marya said, horrified. “Your… knightliness, you’ll lose it.”

“You care about this now?” Arash asked. “You care about him now?”

“Ay, but… he’s… Valerius is…” Marya stammered, eyes darting from Valerius to Arash to Hamasa, brows pulling low and close.

“They’re not stopping. We should think of something,” Hamasa said, gnawing at his bottom lip and staring down the road.

“Why should they even notice? Just duck your head,” Arash said with an eye-roll.

“I don’t know if that’ll work,” Marya said. “The horses… they’re too nice.”

“And Valerius is too obviously Riyukezan with an obviously expensive weapon, too,” Hamasa said, waving towards the canvas-wrapped trident.

Valerius grasped Hamasa’s shoulder, startling him at the abruptness of it. “It doesn’t matter. You need to go on to find your emblem. Her Imperial Highness may be lenient,” Valerius said quietly. Hamasa’s abused lip slipped from between his teeth as he gaped. “I failed already. I did it all wrong.”

“What? No, it’s fine! It’s fine. I was the—”

“We don’t have time for this if we’re gonna do something!” Marya hissed, grabbing Hamasa’s arm and shaking him.

“It’s going to be too late. We’re not exactly hiding now,” Arash said.

Hamasa and Valerius’ eye contact hadn’t broken. His hand was still on Hamasa’s shoulder. Valerius would be fine. He would be arrested for a short time, but Aneya would remember her cousin. If he even made it that far. Hamasa knew how slowly it worked. All the levels and subordinates and politics of the Riyukezan courts, let alone the local Mekshan government that struggled to keep control of their regions. Valerius could be pardoned right away, or he could languish in prison for a year or more. The war would only make the process slower and more difficult.

And he was only here at all, only at risk for arrest, because of Hamasa’s lie.

Hamasa frowned, vision sharpening into shades of red and orange and yellow—“Hamasa, no!”—and he raised a fingertip that shined like the heart of a ruby. Valerius stepped back, eyes widening, but Hamasa was already drawing lines of runes from right to left across his chest. They flickered like living flame. Hamasa gasped, fire burning inside his veins, yanking the breath and magic out of him. The emptiness he’d prodded tore. Gritting his teeth, Hamasa slapped his hand against Valerius’ chest so hard the knight grunted, falling back to knock against Nerva’s side. The fiery words burned through him. As Valerius grasped the front of his kimono, Hamasa reached past and traced the same onto Nerva’s hindquarters. The mare shuffled in place and snorted loudly, tossing back her mane with a strident whinny under Hamasa’s palm as the runes burned.

“Don’t look, don’t hear,” Hamasa intoned in the language of his home. Suddenly, the writing was gone.

He stumbled back, gulping down air and head reeling. A cool arm slipped around his waist and a hand over his thundering heartbeat. The chill pierced him as surely as Marya’s spear.

“What’d you do? What was that?” Marya demanded shakily. “Your eyes, they’re all gold, Hamito.”

“Put it away, Hamasa. Cut it off now,” Arash growled. Hamasa shook his head, grimacing.

“No, not until we get in the city,” he protested.

“What have you done?” Valerius asked, holding up his hands. Nothing looked different. He neither blended into his surroundings, nor disappeared from sight.

“It’s an aversion spell. Let’s go, now. The longer he holds the spell, the worse it is,” Arash said, shoving Hamasa into Marya’s arms and snatching Nerva’s reins. “Get on your damn horses. All of you.”

“An aversion spell?” Marya asked.

The stamping and rattling of the approaching squad of Lances was all but on top of them. Arash hissed and shoved the ex-knight towards the saddle. Marya stared, jaw dropping, at the squad moving around Valerius and Nerva without a second glance. Water parting around a rock. A few nodded at Marya and Hamasa as they passed, a few scowled and muttered in rude Riyukezan about country bumpkins in the way. And then they passed, heading into the city ahead.

“What… in the world?” Marya wheezed.

“Get him on the horse, ape. The longer he’s holding onto the spell, the worse it is,” Arash snapped. He glared poisonously at Valerius. “Are you here to help him or not, knight?”

Valerius stared at Hamasa, who weakly smiled back.

“It was the only thing I could think of,” he said.

Valerius’ expression crashed, scowling black thunder. In the next moment, he swung up into the saddle and gazed at the city silently.

“C’mon, Hamito, let’s go,” Marya murmured in his ear.

Embarrassingly, it took twice the time and effort it normally did. Marya had to half-drag him up with a hand on the back of his poncho as the stolen horse restlessly shifted. The moment Hamasa was sitting up behind her, Valerius tapped Nerva into a run. The silver took off after him immediately, Marya and Hamasa biting back yelps at the suddenness. Arash ran beside them, one hand on Hamasa’s leg, chilling him straight to the bone.