Graevale (The Medoran Chronicles) Page 18

  Aven, Alex knew, was a renowned strategist. There was no way he wouldn’t use Gaiel to his full advantage if he’d taken over the council member’s mind. Gaiel, therefore, was acting on his own reckless impulses.

  Alex just wasn’t sure if that made him less of a threat… or more of one.

  “So you met with Aven,” Alex said, “and he said he’d trade me for free access back into the city?”

  Gaiel offered a narrow-eyed nod.

  “How did you respond?”

  When Gaiel didn’t answer, Roathus spoke up for the first time since Alex had arrived.

  “Gaiel told the Rebel Prince that he would bring the offer to the council.” Roathus paused. “Or what remains of it.”

  “Before your untimely entrance, we were debating the matter,” Cykor drawled. “Aven’s proposition is tempting, I must admit. I’m with Gaiel in the belief that you’ve caused us enough trouble and we’re better off rid of you. The odds of this meeting, young mortal, were not entirely in your favour.”

  “What a load of shogot,” Zain growled. “It was two against two, with Roathus left as the deciding vote. That’s an even balance, with even odds. And even if it weren’t…” His voice lowered, becoming significantly more threatening. “It wouldn’t matter. Because we will not hand over Alex—for anything.”

  “Why do you think Aven wants her so badly?” Kyia demanded of the council. “Aven is no fool. He knows she is a viable threat to his reign, perhaps the only threat, since she alone is capable of resisting him. Within her, she has the power to Release our people from his Claim, to unseat him from his stolen throne and to restore us to our city as free Meyarins. That is why Aven wants her. Because if he has her, then his victory over our race, his victory over all the races of this world, is assured.” Kyia’s voice quieted as she finished, “Without Alex, there is no hope for any of us.”

  Silence descended upon them. Until—

  “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Cykor said, his amused tone ringing with derision. “It’s laughable, really. I mean, look at her.” He glanced at Alex and added a condescending, “No offence.”

  How, exactly, was she not supposed to take offence to that?

  Niyx, I’m sorry to say this, but your dad’s a jerk, she shot off quickly through their mental bond, unable to help herself.

  His response came just as swiftly, and it was telling enough about his own relationship with his father that he didn’t ask for details. All he said was, Tell me something I don’t know.

  “There is no real choice here,” Gaiel said. “We can accept Aven’s proposition of freedom and return to Meya to make the most of his rule within the comfort of our own homes, or we can remain trapped up here like cowards and wait for a pitiful human to… what? Save us all?” He laughed. It was a harsh, mean sound. “I would rather take my chances and risk being Claimed.”

  “Your opinion has already been noted, Gaiel,” Kyia said curtly. “It is only Roathus who is left to vote.”

  Zain cracked his knuckles and reminded, “And that vote is a token gesture only. As I said, Alex isn’t going anywhere.”

  “You—” Gaiel started, his features livid, but Roathus interrupted.

  “Enough,” the ancient Meyarin said, switching over to his native tongue, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re acting like a bunch of spoilt younglings. We have enough to be worried about without you fighting each other along the way. Open your eyes and see that this is about more than you, just as it is about more than the mortal girl.”

  Guilty shuffles met his statement, and he continued in Meyarin, “It is never easy to cast the deciding vote, but in this instance, Gaiel is correct: there is no real choice here.”

  Alex felt her heart sink. Gaiel looked smug, Cykor looked bored. Zain and Kyia both tensed and opened their mouths to argue. But Roathus held up a hand for silence and continued speaking.

  “If we don’t hand the girl to Aven, then we may end up in a war for our city—indeed, for our world—where we have to fight against our own people, our families, our friends, all of whom are under Aven’s control. We may lose those we care about, and there is no guarantee we will triumph.”

  Gaiel’s haughty look only deepened, enough that Alex half expected him to start crowing.

  “However,” Roathus said, causing Gaiel to glance at him sharply, “if we do hand the girl to Aven, then, as Kyia said, there won’t just be no guarantee of triumph—there will be no hope for it. Our loved ones will live but half a life, mindlessly forced to obey Aven’s every whim. And even if we could trust his pledge not to Claim us, how could we live with ourselves if we trade our own freedom at the sacrifice of the only hope for our race?”

  Roathus shook his head and continued, “No, there is no real choice here. This is no longer just about Aven’s vendetta against mortals. He has declared war against Meya, and those of us who remain free have a responsibility to our home and to our people.”

  With resolute eyes moving from person to person, Roathus quietly finished, this time in the common tongue, “We cannot hand the girl to Aven. To do so would mean the end of the Meyarin race. And, I believe, the end of Medora as we know it.”

  Alex actually wilted with relief. Not because she doubted Kyia and Zain would have found a way to get her safely out of there if the three others demanded she be handed over, but because, if she was reading Roathus’s declaration correctly, then he was firmly on board in the fight against Aven. Not just for Meya—but for Medora. And if his was the deciding vote, then his decision would have to be upheld by the rest of the council, along with all the Meyarins who remained free in Draekora.

  “This is outrageous!” Gaiel cried. “She’s just one human!”

  “And Aven is just one Meyarin,” Roathus returned calmly. “Yet look at what calamity he has brought upon us. A solitary rock shifting from the top of a mountain can snowball into an avalanche. Do not underestimate the power of a strong-willed individual, Gaiel—human, Meyarin, or otherwise. ”

  Seething, but unable to argue in the face of Roathus’s composed wisdom, Gaiel let out a snarl and spun on his heel, stomping from the tent without looking back.

  Cykor followed closely behind, but only after a respectful nod to Roathus—and a calculating look at Alex that made her feel like a specimen under a microscope.

  When it was just four of them left, Roathus turned to Alex.

  “I sincerely hope you live up to our expectations, Alexandra Jennings,” he told her, his ancient eyes locked on hers. “Know this: the battle within is often greater than the battle without. Much of this war will be fought amongst those claiming to be friends, with words rather than swords. Do not let the politics discourage you, and never forget who you are truly fighting—and what you are fighting for.”

  With those sage words, he bowed his head and then turned and walked from the tent.

  “You know,” Alex said pensively to Kyia and Zain once they were alone, “I only came here because I found your note and figured I should prove I was still alive. I was not expecting any of that.”

  “Consider it an unanticipated boon, little human,” Zain said, dropping a hand onto her shoulder and giving her a friendly shake—one that was so forceful that it rattled Alex’s bones. “We scored a great victory today: the assurance that Meya—those of us who remain free—will side with you in the coming war.”

  “Not to sound ungrateful, but ignoring the whole sacrificial-me offering, unless you all planned on staying up here forever, your options were limited,” Alex pointed out. “Fight Aven, or join him.”

  “Alternatively, we could have attempted to dislodge Aven on our own,” Kyia said. “In which case, had we prevailed and banished him again, he would still then be free to exact vengeance on mortals, just without his throne.” She paused. “Though, the likelihood of our success would have been minimal without you.” She paused again. “And he still would have had an entire city of our people bound to him.”

  “W
e all know the outcome of us officially aligning ourselves with the mortals was inevitable,” Zain said, crossing his bulging arms, “but just appeal to our egos and accept the victory.”

  Alex grinned. “That I can do.”

  “Good,” Kyia said. “Now, do you want to tell us why we haven’t heard from you for a week?”

  “I’m sorry,” Alex said, meaning it. “I should have come sooner. It’s just… things have been somewhat… hectic… since I last saw you.”

  Zain raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to be more vague, little human? Because really, we’re not at all curious.”

  Alex offered a shrug of contrition and looked down at her feet. In doing so, she saw the satchel she’d dropped and bent to collect it.

  “Peace offering,” she said, handing it to Kyia. “Consider it my apology for neglecting you.”

  Kyia opened the bag with interest, but her features hardened when she saw what was inside. “Alex, I told you—”

  “I swear, I didn’t go into Silverwood,” Alex said, holding up her hands.

  “Then how—”

  “Please don’t ask me that,” Alex interrupted again, quietly. “Because I can’t answer. But I kept the promise I made you, you have my word.”

  Kyia looked deep into Alex’s eyes as if testing the truth of her claim before she sighed and relaxed. “Then, thank you,” the female Meyarin said. “However you have come to be in possession of this, we greatly appreciate it.”

  “Let me know if you start to run out again and I’ll see if I can get my hands on more,” Alex told her.

  Kyia nodded and placed the satchel on a table at the side of the tent.

  “I meant what I said before—I can’t stay long,” Alex said. “I have to head off to Maroo this afternoon.”

  “Maroo? You’re going to see the Jarnocks?” Zain asked. He barked out a laugh. “Have fun with that.”

  Alex felt a prickle of trepidation. “Care to explain?”

  Zain just looked at his boots and chuckled some more.

  “Ignore him, you’ll be fine,” Kyia said brusquely. “We need to discuss your training.”

  Alex swallowed back a sigh. “Go for it.”

  “Firstly, how are you going with developing your gift?”

  Careful to maintain Athora’s secrecy rule, Alex said, “That’s part of why everything has been so hectic lately. I’ve been spending a lot of time focusing on that.”

  “Any progress?” Zain asked.

  “I’ve been told so,” Alex said, and even if she hadn’t been expressly ordered not to say anything about her sessions, she still wouldn’t have mentioned the strange tasks. She had a feeling she would never hear the end of it if her Meyarin friends found out about the banana balancing or the yarn rolling or the jigsaw puzzle from hell.

  “Excellent,” Kyia said, approval lighting her eyes. “Make sure you keep it up.”

  Alex didn’t respond, aware that her friend was only being supportive and likely wouldn’t appreciate an irritated retort.

  “Now we just have to make sure you’re physically capable of surviving long enough to use your gift against Aven,” Zain said. “We know it’s a lot, but we think you should work with us for a few hours every day so we can prepare you as much as possible.”

  Alex willed her expression not to reveal her alarm.

  Niyx! she cried. Kyia and Zain want me to train with them daily, but I don’t have time for that! What do I do?

  His response was instant, Tell them you’re already training twice a day—just let them presume that means for your gift, and nothing else. Be honest about your time concerns. See what they say.

  Alex did as he suggested, but neither Kyia nor Zain were pleased.

  “This is important, little human,” Zain said.

  “But it’s more important that she spend the time strengthening her gift,” Kyia argued, albeit grudgingly. “We can fight for her physically, but she’s the only one who can free those who are Claimed. We just have to make sure that when the time comes, we stay close enough to protect her.”

  “Let’s not forget that I’ve already had some combat training,” Alex said, not appreciating them thinking of her as such a damsel in distress. “More than I’m sure you could imagine, really.”

  “Roka would have been extremely thorough, even in the past,” Kyia said, jumping to the wrong conclusion.

  “I’d feel more comfortable seeing the evidence of that for myself,” Zain said, eyeing Alex as if just looking at her would give away whether she was exaggerating or not.

  She consulted Niyx again, asking what he thought she should do next.

  Show them, he said. You knew you would have to at some stage, and this might make them back off about the extra training—training that you don’t need, since there’s nothing they can teach you that I haven’t already.

  Ignoring his arrogance, Alex pulled out her ComTCD and glanced at the screen.

  “I have fifteen minutes before I have to go,” she told them. “If I can prove to you in that time that I can at least defend myself well enough to get by, can we bench this training discussion for a later date?”

  Zain eyed her. “Fifteen minutes isn’t long,” he said. “How would you prove yourself?”

  “That’s easy,” Alex said with more bravado than she felt. “I’ll fight both of you.”

  Raised eyebrows met her statement.

  “Both of us?” Kyia said. “At once?”

  Alex blanched. She had only meant one after the other, but perhaps…

  Niyx, what are my chances of being able to take them both on at the same time?

  I wouldn’t recommend it, he answered.

  You told me to fight them, she reminded him. If I can’t win, will I be able to put up a good enough defence that they’ll be content with what I can already do?

  His reply surprised her. Oh, you’ll win, he said, his tone sure. That’s why I wouldn’t recommend it.

  Niyx! Alex cried, frustrated by his responses.

  Kitten, Kyia and Zain are two of the best Zeltora Meya’s ever seen, but they’ll be pulling their punches because, despite what you’ve told them, they won’t believe that you’ll stand a chance against them. They’ll be overly cautious not to hurt you, just like Roka was when you trained with him. That’ll give you the upper hand, as long as you take advantage of it immediately—before they realise you were telling the truth. Go for the metaphorical kill straight away and you’ll have them both subdued within seconds.

  That all sounds good, though, Alex said, confused about his earlier lack of recommendation.

  It does. But it might make them question how you’ve become so competent so quickly, Niyx said. There’s nothing to be done for it, so go ahead and we’ll deal with any fallout later if it comes—which, hopefully, it won’t.

  Their mental conversation took place in the span of but a few breaths that Alex was able to mask as having spent thinking over Kyia’s question.

  “Both of you at once,” she confirmed.

  Ignoring Zain’s clear amusement and Kyia’s doubtful incredulity, Alex said, “The clock’s ticking. Are we doing this, or not?”

  Zain’s amusement vanished. “You’re actually serious.”

  Curbing her frustration, Alex said, “I am. And I’ll fight you right here if I have to, though I’d rather not since, while this tent is large, I’d prefer more room to move.”

  Seeing her determination, Zain’s features brightened with the thrill of the challenge. Kyia continued to look uncertain, before rolling her eyes to the heavens and sighing with resignation.

  “All right, little human. We’ll humour you in this,” Zain said. “If you can prove you’re able to handle yourself, we’ll hold off on training you—for now. But if we’re not satisfied, then you’ll find the time to work with us daily, agreed?”

  Niyx, are you sure I can do this?

  You’ve got this, kitten. No doubt about it.

  Spurred by his confidence, Alex nodded
to Zain, noting his smirk—and concealing her own—as she said, “Agreed.”

  Seventeen

  Niyx’s assumptions had been correct.

  After relocating a short distance from Roka’s tent—close enough to protect him but far enough from curious Meyarin eyes—both Zain and Kyia had been hesitant to attack Alex. She’d taken full advantage of their caution, lashing out with a fervour that had unarmed them and shocked them into defeat in less than two minutes flat. The swiftness of the fight and their surprise at her competence had kept them from making any comparisons likening her style to Niyx’s, meaning she was in the clear on that account—at least for now.

  The haste of their defeat had prompted Kyia and Zain to demand a rematch, but Alex had claimed that hadn’t been part of their bargain. They’d been left to grudgingly accept that, just like them, no one else would expect her to be so fiercely combative. If nothing else, they believed she would have the surprise factor in her favour. And that was enough for them to yield their demands to further her training—at least for a little while.

  After promising she would return again soon to update them on how the rest of her weekend cultural visits panned out, Alex returned to the Library, arriving in the foyer just seconds before Bear.

  “We have a problem,” he said without preamble.

  Alex’s mind jumped to the fifty thousand potential possibilities before she decided it was best just to ask. “What’s happened?”

  “Luranda caught Jordan and Dix making out behind Gen-Sec while you were gone,” Bear said. “For obvious reasons, I wasn’t with them,”—he pulled a comical face—“so I couldn’t use my gift to charm her into being more lenient. They’re both stuck in detention with her for the rest of the day.”

  Alex sighed. “Those two. I mean, I’m happy for them, but still. Hopefully they’ll be able to keep their hands off each other long enough to not miss out on coming tomorrow as well.”

  Bear winced. “Actually…”