Autumn Whispers

We don’t even know where Queen Asteria kept them hidden.”

I was shaking with both fear and weariness. The stress we were under had gone from meh to horrendous in the course of one evening. “I don’t know. I have no clue where she kept the Keraastar Knights cloistered. What the hell do we do?”

The Knights were formed by Queen Asteria, who had been protecting the spirit seals we’d managed to gather. Each knight was bound to a seal, and what she was planning, we did not know. One spirit seal we’d stumbled on was still unbound, and so it, too, was floating around. Until this moment, eight of the nine had come to light and we’d managed to keep hold of six of them.

Five of our friends had been conscripted into service—Venus the Moon Child, the Rainier Puma Pride’s former shaman, Benjamin Welter—a disturbed young man, Luke—Menolly’s former bartender, and his sister Amber, and Tom Lane, who was actually the Tam Lin from legend. He was a broken man, after so many thousands of years, but he still carried the spirit seal with honor.

“We’ve got to get word to Father and Tanaquar. They can help. But the way things are going, I don’t even know if there will be a city to save. The storm . . . Delilah, that storm is one of the most terrifying entities I’ve ever felt. Worse than Gulakah and he was a god.” She gave me a pale, strained look. Tears ran down her cheeks but they were silent, as if she didn’t even know they were being shed.

“Do you think I should tell Trenyth about Asteria? He loves her so much. How can I break his heart?” I hung my head.

“We have to. The pain will be there whether you tell him now, or whether he finds her body in the rubble. Best to prepare him, I think. And though he’ll be heartbroken, he’s professional enough to focus on the job at hand. Come on, let’s go.” She turned to the door and we headed back down the hall.

Trenyth was waiting in the hall for us, but before we could speak, he hustled us toward the storeroom. “Come on, we have to get out of here now. Save whatever it is for later. We have to move.”

We burst through the storeroom door that led to another chamber, which had a magically sealed door to the outside. Trenyth broke the seal with a single slam of the hand against the door and again, I wondered just how much power the advisor had hidden away. We had never really had the chance to see him in action, or to ask him what his specialties were.

When he opened the outer door, Camille and I clung together, not knowing what we’d be seeing. It was going on close to midnight. Surely the horrendous storm had to have broken. How long could it last? How long could the sorcerers keep fueling it? But a little voice inside whispered doubts. How many sorcerers are you talking about? A dozen? A hundred? Telazhar would not arrive with a short deck. No, this was all out war and so they’d be prepared. And they’d caught Elqaneve—and us—unprepared.

And now, Queen Asteria was dead.

We stepped out, and the storm was still raging. As far as we could see, the landscape was dotted with fires, raging in brilliant oranges and pinks and crimsons. Magical fire. Was this the Scorching Wars, all over again?

There were no buildings standing, save for the one we’d come out of, and that was only by the fact that it was hidden behind an illusionary barrier. But, as Camille and I looked around, the devastation began to sink in. The palace was in rubble. The outer buildings were so much wreckage, splintered beyond any hope of recognizing what they had been only hours before.

“We have to find your sister and friends, and the Queen.” Trenyth glanced at the sky. The churning clouds seemed to be thinning, but now they were streaking smaller bolts of lightning down to set off the tallest trees.

“Trenyth—stop!” I grabbed his arm. “Queen Asteria is dead. While I was asleep, I was summoned to Haseofon. I was . . . I had to . . .” I stopped, staring at him bleakly and, after a moment’s hesitation, blurted out. “I was assigned to escort her through the veil, in an honored manner, to her ancestors.”

He stared at me for a moment. Then, without a word, without showing a clue how he felt, he turned back to the palace. “We must focus on finding your sister and we absolutely have to find Sharah, if she’s alive. She’s the Queen’s niece. Technically, she’s an heir to the throne and who knows how many of them are alive? There were only two or three others in line before Sharah. And with the devastation this storm has wrought . . .” He trailed off.

But the thought was enough to send me into a tailspin. Sharah had mentioned this. She could end up being the next queen of Elqaneve. And what would that mean for her and Chase and their baby? If they still live, the voice of fear inside me said. If they made it out. And what about my love, Shade? While I had little doubt he could survive, there was also Trillian. So many factors. So many chances for death.

“Let’s go. We’ll have to chance the storm, but it seems to have let up some.” Camille headed toward the palace, trying to avoid the pieces of debris that could cut her feet if she stepped wrong.

We ran through the darkness, past bodies charred by fire, hit by shrapnel. Everywhere, the screams of the injured rang out and my heart ached because there was nothing we could do for them. We ran through the hail of lightning bolts, the ravages of the magical thunder, skirting trees, skirting debris, skirting chunks of marble and stone that had been blasted when the palace went down. The sky lit the night brighter than the moon ever could, but even so, the storm was moving to the west, moving away.

By the time we reached the palace, the strikes were few and far between. I looked around nervously, wondering where the sorcerers actually were. Surely they weren’t around the corner. They had no need to put themselves directly in the line of fire—magic traveled across long distances. And why not send in the grunts first, to take care of those left standing? Which meant, chances were that before morning a contingent of mercenaries would show up on the outskirts of the Elfin city. They’d want to get in before Y’Elestrial or Dahnsburg could send help.

Camille shouted and leaned on my shoulder, raising her foot. She yanked out a sliver of glass and tossed it to the side. “I need shoes.”

I let out a long breath. “Yeah. Hold on.”

There were several corpses near us and I shivered as I approached them. This was so surreal that I barely knew what I was feeling. But one of them—a woman, who had been struck by a piece of granite, had feet near Camille’s size. And she was wearing a pair of leather moccasins. I quickly, silently, yanked them off her feet and without looking at the dead woman’s face, handed them to Camille. She said nothing, looking mutely at me. But she put them on and we continued on to the palace.

The steps were broken, but still accessible in some places. The tons of stone and alabaster, of metal and wood that sprawled before us were daunting. Smoke filled the air from the still-burning fires, and dust hung heavy, choking us as we neared the shattered palace. Up was down, front was back, and it was hard to remember where anything had been.

Trenyth led us on, as we approached the behemoth that had been Asteria’s pristine court. Camille was crying, but her tears were silent and slowly ran down her face as she shook her head.

Trenyth’s lips were pressed together, as he grimly assessed the area. After a moment, he pointed to the left. “That way.”

And we were off.

Making our way through the rubble was a nightmare. So many death traps, so many blockades. Here a body, there a body. A pile of what was once a royal statue, now ground to rubble and ash. Skirt a fire that burned brightly, showing no sign of stopping—and don’t look because the fuel may just be a pile of corpses. The scent of burning stone, the scent of burning flesh. The greasy feel to the air because so much soot was flying loose. A bonfire to rival all bonfires, a testament to destruction and death, to hatred and greed. And there, to the right, that had been the throne room . . .

Trenyth stopped suddenly, and looked to what appeared to be the shattered remnants of the throne room. It was buried under the rubble, under the fallen roof. If there had been anyone in there, they had to be dead. And Queen Asteria had been there, waiting for us. Her body was now entombed in a thousand tons of stone. After a moment, he turned back to our path and we moved onward.

“Here,” he said after a long while of edging around piles of debris. “I believe . . . this should be where we turned off to head down to the quarters containing the seers.”

We slowly approached what would have been the entrance, but now it was buried under a pile of stone and