The Beginning After The End novel Chapter 498

Chapter 498: A Call For Aid

TESSIA ERALITH

“She’s going to be incredible,” I said, grinning. My fingers brushed over the soft leaves of a sapling nearly as tall as I was. “Varay was already powerful, but watching the way she can reach for mana now…” I turned to my grandfather. I knew I was gushing, but I couldn’t help it. “She’s mastered her Integration with such dignity.”

Grandpa Virion chuckled as he poured water from a spout onto a fresh seedling. “I’m glad to hear she’s in good health. The first person to experience Integration in the memory of our modern era…”

As he had avoided mentioning Cecilia, I followed his lead. “Varay’s recovered well, yes. The experience seems to have cracked the ice of her personality a bit, too. She seems to have discovered a certain fondness for sweets during her recovery.” I fell into a fit of giggles as I remembered seeing the stoic Lance with powdered sugar coating her lips.

“She gives you hope.”

I felt myself catch, like a notched blade pulled from its sheath. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it like that.

But yes.” My gaze turned back to the plants. I took up my own watering can and resumed moistening the tilled earth in which they grew. “Right now, it feels like Art is all that stands between us and the cruelty of the asura. I know Varay isn’t as powerful as that, but seeing her work so hard to improve, even at her level, makes me feel better about our chances.”

Virion set down his can and pruned off a few weak branches on the larger saplings. When he was finished, he stood with his hands on his hips and regarded the arboretum with pride. “The soil is just as potent as Arthur described. Imagine the growth if these trees had proper airflow and sunlight.”

Smiling, his attention settled on me. “You know I wasn’t talking about the future, Tessia. I was speaking about your future.”

I bit my lip as he approached me. His hands settled lightly on my shoulders, and he looked deep into my eyes. “It’s okay, little one. You don’t have to feel guilty. You touched power—real power—and you want it back, because you want to stand beside Arthur and not behind him. There is no shame in that.”

My throat constricted. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around Grandpa Virion, resting my head against his chest. “How can you know what I’m thinking when even I don’t?”

He scoffed. “You’ve never been able to hide anything from me. Like these saplings, I watched you grow from only a little seed. I’ve been there for every success and every mistake. You are the best of both your mother and father, and the beating heart within my chest. How could I not know what you think?”

“I love you, Grandfather,” I said breathlessly, my cheeks wet with tears.

He patted my head like he’d done when I was a child. “And I love you, Tessia.” He cleared his throat, took me by my arms, and moved us apart a single step. “Now, we’ve waded through enough of these emotional brambles. There’s work to be done. We need to—”

He went quiet, turning toward the entrance. A couple seconds later, Bairon flew into the cavern and landed just beyond the border of the arboretum. The human Lance didn’t slow down to greet either of us. “There is word from Alacrya. The dwarven lords have called a council, and they want you to attend.”

Virion gave the Lance a grave half-smile. “You mean they demand I attend. With the war seemingly over for good, the dwarves grow more bold—and restless—with the elves who remain.”

Bairon nodded, running a hand through his silken blond hair. “The sentiment that led to the attack on the Alacryans hasn’t entirely vanished. Even if you weren’t wanted at the council, Virion, I’m afraid you’re needed. As a voice of reason.”

Sighing, Virion dusted himself off and started toward Bairon. He paused after only a few steps and looked back at me. “Would you pick a few subjects for our next transfer to Elenoir? Saria Triscan is chomping at the bit to start another grove.”

“Actually, I’d prefer to come with you,” I answered.

“After my recent visit to Etistin, well, I’d like to be more involved.” Stripping off my leather gloves, I tossed them next to the rest of our tools, conjured a gust of wind to blow off the dirt that still clung to Grandpa and me, and looked at him expectantly.

I knew he wouldn’t decline my request. He’d been gently prodding me to get out of the cavern and be more involved, which is largely why I had gone to Etistin to begin with.

My grandfather grinned and gestured for Bairon to lead the way.

Virion had already been catching me up on the politics of Vildorial, Darv, and Dicathen as a whole. The dwarves respected my grandfather, but they were resentful of Arthur’s insistence that Virion act as commander of Darv’s defensive efforts in the final weeks of the war. The dwarven nation was still badly fractured after the Greysunders’ betrayal and subsequent civil conflict, and both the dwarven lords and people were hungry for leadership from within their own race.

The problem of what to do with the elves and Alacryans—a “problem” in the council chamber only, as almost all the elven refugees had left Vildorial before Alacrya’s final assault, and the Alacryans themselves had been sent home—continued to split the dwarves right down the middle.

We found the council chamber already ringing with raised voices. Durgar Silvershale, who had stepped into his father’s shoes as Daglun recovered from his wounds, had stood and was jabbing his finger into Lord Earthborn’s face.

“—above and beyond for those cut-throats! This is none of our concern.”

Skarn Earthborn, Mica’s scowling cousin, was guarding the door. He stepped forward with a hand on his weapon.

I didn’t know the Silvershales, but I had fought beside Skarn and his brother, Hornfels, in Elenoir before my capture. I rested my hand atop his. He glowered viciously at Durgar, but he held his position.

“Friends,” Virion said, loud enough to cut across the arguing.

The chamber—the inside of a massive geode that reflected a kaleidoscope of colors—went silent. Durgar straightened his tunic and returned to his seat. Carnelian Earthborn watched Durgar carefully, then made a gesture of welcome to Grandpa and me.

A woman stood at the head of the table where the others sat. From the back, she had long fire-red hair. She was dressed simply in traveling leathers. At the sound of Virion’s voice, she turned.

My heart stopped.

I was standing in a press of bodies. So tight they held me on my feet even as I struggled to breathe. A honeyed voice, oozing through the city square. Pillars of stone raised high above. Red hair billowing like dancing flames as that same face looked down at us…

Around her, bodies. Bodies on black metal spikes.

Blaine and Priscilla Glayder and…my parents.

I looked into the eyes of the woman who had paraded my parents’ corpses across Dicathen while espousing Agrona’s divinity.

Virion was speaking. He stepped forward, took the woman’s hand. She answered, her honeyed tones running thin, coming out desperate.

Didn’t he know? I wanted to slap her hands away from his, to…to…

Of course he knows, I answered myself.

I knew of Lyra Dreide’s role in the war, both before and after she ceded the regency of Dicathen to Arthur. She’d done a lot of good for Dicathen, by all accounts.

The words they exchanged finally coalesced into meaning in my ears.

“Lyra Dreide. You’ve come a long way, and so shortly after leaving. What’s this all about?”

“Virion. I’m glad you’re here. Please, Seris needs your aid.”

Carnelian Earthborn grunted. “We were just discussing our response before you arrived, Virion.”

“What is it you’re asking us to do?” Grandpa asked the woman.

Lyra was shaking her head, her red hair flying like a burning flag. “The blast nearly killed Seris and Cylrit, but it wasn’t targeted. Apparently, it did kill Scythe Dragoth Vritra, and many others besides.”

Lance Mica clicked her tongue. She stood flanking her father with her arms crossed, her face pinched into a scowl.

“We let your people go home against our better judgment,” Durgar cut in, half standing again. “Now, they beg for aid because they find their home inhospitable. You’re lucky we don’t march our soldiers straight through those portals and—”

“You don’t have that kind of authority, boy,” a dwarven woman said, smacking her hand on the table.

“Please, my lords.” Grandpa’s voice resounded off the colorful crystals. The dwarven lords went quiet. He motioned for Lyra to continue.

“Lady Caera Denoir had hoped her message might reach Vildorial before Arthur left,” Lyra said, an edge of bitterness in her voice. “He needs to know what is happening.”

“Perfect, let the regent handle it,” Daymor, youngest of the Silvershale clan, said while miming brushing dirt from his hands.

Carnelian hummed thoughtfully. “I’m inclined to agree.” To Virion, he added, “Do you know how we can get a message to Regent Leywin?”

“We have an asura right here in the city,” Lance Mica said, pointing downward through the floor. She was speaking of Wren Kain, of course. “If anyone can get to Epheotus to deliver a message, it’s him.”

With permission, Durgar sent a runner to fetch the asura, and two chairs were added to the table for Virion and me. Bairon stood behind Virion. Lyra was left to stand at the head of the table.

The shock of seeing her had slowly receded as the lords, Virion, and Lyra spoke. I followed their conversation in a kind of fugue, hearing but not absorbing. In the incredibly awkward silence that settled over the Hall of Lords, my mind churned into a slow, muddled mess of thoughts.

The asura arrived more quickly than I had anticipated. Although I’d heard he favored flying around in a conjured seat like a throne, he marched into the Hall of Lords on his own feet, stepping without hesitation across the floating stones that led the way to the large table.

Without preamble, he placed his hands on the table, leaned forward, and said simply, “What?”

“We need to send a message to Arthur.” It was my grandfather who answered. “Can you help us?”

“No.” Wren Kain straightened, spun on his heel, and marched away.

“Please, Lord Kain,” Lyra said, taking a couple of faltering steps after the asura. “It’s quite literally a matter of life and death.”

Wren Kain stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

If not for the incredible pressure of his mana signature, I wouldn’t have thought much of the man just to look at him. Unkempt and hunched, the asura was hardly the picture of unimaginable power. And yet, when his gaze swept across me, the hair stood up on the back of my neck and gooseflesh roughened my skin.

“Aldir had the resources to travel between Epheotus and your world. I do not.” Wren Kain’s words were spoken plainly, but they gripped the room in a chokehold.

I swallowed against the pressure, considering whether to ask the question that came to my mind. After all, I was one of very few who knew that Wren Kain was not the only asura in Dicathen. Although Cecilia was gone, my memory of following Mordain Asclepius to the Hearth remained.

“What about…Chul?” I asked, not wanting to say Mordain’s name in front of so many others.

Everyone present knew of Chul, even if they didn’t know his true identity as a phoenix, but they were not aware of the hidden conclave of asuras beneath the Beast Glades.

Wren’s thick brows rose. “Maybe. I can’t say for sure. You’d have to ask…Chul.”

The dwarves, Bairon, and Grandpa were looking on expectantly. The dwarves, even those not hostile to the Alacryans, seemed universally eager to see someone else step up and take responsibility for the situation. Virion kept his face passive, but I could read him well enough to see his encouragement.

Lyra Dreide looked back and forth between us. “Chul? By why—” Her eyes widened, and I saw understanding bloom within them. To Wren, she said, “Can’t you send a message or seek him out on our behalf? There is nowhere else for us to turn, Master Kain.”

The asura turned fully back toward us. His heavily lidded eyes were bright, and his teeth ground together, causing the muscles of his face to clench and unclench. “Fine. No promises it’ll do any good though.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Durgar Silvershale. “If you lot interfere with the Beast Corps program, there’ll be hell to pay when I get back.”

The Silvershales and their allies on the council paled at the threat, rage and terror warring on their faces.

“While this council continues to believe that we deserve some say in the use of the exoforms, it’s a conversation for another day,” Carnelian said, his voice even more hoarse than usual.

Wren Kain nodded, and there was a dire finality to the small gesture. “Give me your message then.”

“I will tell you everything on the way,” Lyra said, some of her nervousness settled and her posture growing more confident. She turned briefly back to the council and gave them a shallow bow. “Thank you for your assistance,” she said, a bite in the way she pronounced the last word.

Wren Kain only shrugged at Lyra’s words, then gave us a dismissive wave as he again started to leave.