The Chronicle Page 6

  Children filled the building—from the lobby to the wraparound floors above. Some sat at tables and drank juice while others ran around and chased each other. For the most part, they were dressed in dirty clothes.

  “What is this?” Vitio asked.

  “Another plan I devised with a little help from a partner over the past year,” Apsa said, catching a young girl who leapt toward her. “How are you, Gabby?”

  “I’m so happy to see you, Queen Apsa!” the girl screamed.

  “Likewise,” Apsa said with a smile, an aura returning to her that Vitio hadn’t seen in over a year. This was how he knew the Spirit Queen, filled with laughter and exuberance.

  After she placed the girl on the floor, Apsa continued through the lobby, wending between tables and boisterous children. “These children are refugees from the Archaic Kingdom. It had been my goal to retrieve as many of them as I could before things turned south over there.”

  Apsa sat at the bar, her peers following suit. They each swiveled around to face the lobby’s expanse.

  “How many did you manage to rescue?” Venustas asked.

  “Seven hundred and sixteen.”

  Vitio hummed. “Where are the rest of them?”

  “Scattered throughout different buildings. They’ve been instructed to stay inside because of our presence.”

  “And their parents?” asked Venustas.

  “Most of these kids are orphans,” Apsa explained. “We feared what might happen to parentless children under a regime influenced by Dev King Storshae.”

  “Who’s we?” Vitio asked.

  “I believe I’m part of it,” said a new voice.

  They turned back toward the bar to see the hunched frame of Spirit Director Neaneuma, her face barely visible above the counter. She gleamed as she looked at Venustas. “Good to see you again, Felli.”

  “My favorite old woman,” the Venustas replied.

  “With the ripest spirit,” Neaneuma added.

  “So you transported Archain refugees to here?” Vitio asked.

  Neaneuma closed her eyes and nodded. “With help from Spirit General Minerva and a team of Spirit Assassins.”

  “And what do you plan to do with them?” the Intel King asked, taking another glance around the building. “Give them homes in the Spirit Kingdom?”

  “There are families willing to take them in,” Apsa said, “but not enough unfortunately. Our supply is far greater than the demand.”

  “So you’re keeping them here for now.”

  Apsa glanced at Neaneuma, which prompted the Spirit Director to speak. “We think that’s the best solution, King Vitio. As of right now, all supplies and money are coming from the Spirit Kingdom. But we’d like to do more than get by on a temporary stock of goods.”

  The king’s brows rose as he thrummed his fingers against the countertop. “You want investments from the rest of us, too?” He paused, and then added, “In the middle of a war?”

  “I want to reopen Phesaw,” she said. “At least for the refugees. The staff can be kept small since the school’s population would be a tiny fraction of what it normally is. I have a few very talented mentors that followed me from the Archaic Kingdom. I’m not asking for funds comparable to past years; just something that can rehire us a staff so we can work toward sustaining these young minds.”

  Venustas nodded in agreement, but Vitio and Supido took a moment to mull it over. These children could benefit from the lessons they’d learn here rather than the corruption they would have experienced in the Archaic Kingdom.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Vitio said, pulling parchment and a quill from his bag to make note of this new development. “And I think I know a gentleman looking for something to do; goes by the name of Yvole.”

  Supido inhaled deeply and said, “I’ll send my brother back here when I return home. He misses his job anyway.”

  “The Adren Director has been sorely missed,” Neaneuma said. She turned and looked at Venustas. “Should I also expect the Passion Director’s return?”

  “Unlikely,” she said. “I must stay in Fiamma for now.”

  “Do protect that family,” Neaneuma said.

  6

  Black Bear’s Birch

  Rhyparia walked between two precipices that towered into the sky. Directly above her was a massive statue of a lynx, a fabled god named Dimiourgos. Its arms and legs spread wide, pushing against the cliff sides as if it was the only thing keeping the landforms from closing together.

  She was accompanied by three dimiours, a race of humanistic animals, although they preferred not be described as such. There was Atarax, a fox capable of wielding three swords at once, with the help of his tail; Kakos, a lean, rugged wolf who relied on his strength, speed, and vicious nature; and Therapif, a snowy white rabbit whose talents came in the healing department.

  There were more like them, but they had remained in the village of Epinio during Rhyparia’s mission. When Annick had sent word of many presences in the mountains, Rhyparia had feared it was the Jestivan trying to find her.

  Her prediction proved correct, but it was made worse when Annick described another man. A bandage circled his cranium, and he held a staff in his hand. That was Toono, and if he had run into any of the Jestivan, a battle would have ensued ... a death inevitable.

  That’s when Rhyparia had made the decision to enter the mountains, and Atarax, Kakos, and Therapif volunteered to tag along. They found Toshik and Jilly, but the two Jestivan had already crossed paths with Yama and Toono and were in the midst of a battle. The whole situation had caught Rhyparia by surprise. Yama alongside Toono? Yama was supposed to be a Jestivan. Had she betrayed her friends?

  When Yama tried dealing a fatal blow to Toshik, that question was answered. She wound up striking Jilly instead. Rhyparia and the dimiours had arrived just a minute late. They could have stopped Jilly’s death if they had only been a hair quicker.

  Now Rhyparia sulked as she returned to Epinio, cursing herself for not saving Jilly’s life and cursing her friends for chasing her into the deadly Archaic Mountains—or what should have been deadly. She was beginning to question the tales. Still, why had they commenced a suicide mission for her sake?

  The journey back to the village had been arduous and painful, made even worse by Kakos’s heckling of Atarax. At least the fox wasn’t one to entertain such childish behavior.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced something as euphoric as witnessing Atarax struggle with an opponent,” Kakos teased, straggling behind the group. “And by someone who wields only one sword?”

  “That young lady was more formidable than anyone I’ve crossed,” Atarax said. “She was fast without sacrificing technique, while also able to keep track of all three of my blades.”

  Kakos clenched and then relaxed his fists. “At least you got a fight. That Toono guy backed down.” He scowled. “With the way Rhyparia had talked him up, I was expecting a brawl.”

  “Be happy he retreated,” Rhyparia said. “I would have had to save your life, and I’m not sure I would have wanted to.”

  A coarse chuckle thrummed through the air, the wolf’s fangs fully exposed as his mouth widened. “That human would have been eaten alive!”

  Rhyparia didn’t respond. Kakos, thankfully, shut his mouth for the rest of the trek. Eventually, he split away from the group to step through the leaves of a nearby willow. Rhyparia had yet to be allowed within a willow’s branches, and she doubted that she ever would. They were the homes of the dimiours, after all. As a human, for her to step foot on their property would be disrespectful.

  Breaking free of the forest, they climbed a grassy hill to the unnamed guild that served as her home. Seeing it would grant her temporary relief, for all she craved at this point was familiarity and comfort.

  When she reached the crest, she was welcomed by two craftmasters standing next to each other: a sly weasel named Moros and a honey badger named Biaza. It was odd to see since Moros was usually attached to
Biaza’s back, but Rhyparia was more focused on the solemn expression on Moros’s face. He was not one to pout.

  “What’s wrong?” Rhyparia asked.

  Biaza’s tail fell listlessly into the dirt as she replied, “It’s Musku ... he doesn’t have much longer.”

  Shifting the gravity around her, Rhyparia leapt onto the precipice thousands of feet above, leaving the craftmasters stranded below. All she cared about was getting to Musku. How could this have happened? He had been in perfect condition when she had entered the Archaic Mountains.

  She ran across the field and burst through the front door of a log cabin. Saikatto and Rayne, two original members of the Jestivan, were seated in the study. Saikatto was hunched forward with his face in his hands, while Rayne stared emptily into space. Both turned at the intrusion.

  “In his room,” Rayne said. “Be wary, for he has company.”

  Rhyparia bolted to the second floor overlook and hurried to Musku’s room. She grabbed the handle and tried twisting it, but it wouldn’t budge. Oblivious to Rayne’s advice, she knocked, paused, and quickly knocked again. Suddenly, the door yanked open to reveal an older woman, her graying hair braided into a bun.

  Brushing past the lady without a second thought, Rhyparia made her way to Musku’s bedside. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his lungs preparing to shut down. With somber eyes, she studied his aging face, half of it covered by not just wrinkles, but the age-old scars given to him by Mendac LeAnce.

  His eyelids opened, slow enough to have made moving a mountain seem like an easier feat to accomplish. He was far beyond the average lifespan of a human. He should have been turning fifty this year, but for him and Rhyparia, time had been accelerated due to the use of Musku’s time-altering ancient. She had experienced nineteen years, and Musku, fifty-seven, while he trained her. Because of this, he was well over the century marker, and Rhyparia was thirty-six.

  “It looks like my stay has come to an end,” Musku said, his voice sounding as if his larynx was coated in sandpaper.

  A tear trickled down Rhyparia’s cheek as she shook her head. First Senex, now Musku. It felt like death followed her, and it was always her fault.

  Musku’s eyes lingered on her before looking up at the ceiling. “How were the mountains?” he asked.

  “Jilly’s dead,” she whispered.

  “The Spirit girl, correct?” When Rhyparia nodded, Musku sighed. “It is tough, Rhyparia. Often times, life is not kind to the people who are.” He stopped to cough. The woman in the back of the room hurried forward, but he waved her back with a nod. “Those with infectious spirit tend to save many lives through their smile, laughter, or kind words. Without knowing it, they stop people from committing dark acts. It is my theory that they must pay dues for all the lives they’ve saved. They’ve robbed Death to the point where it has no choice but to take them instead.”

  “That seems unfair,” Rhyparia said.

  Musku closed his eyes for a moment and replied, “I know, but ever since that day when Mendac returned from the Dev Kingdom with Thusia’s corpse cradled in his arms, it’s how I explain to myself why.”

  Rhyparia didn’t want to talk about this anymore, so she wiped her cheeks and said, “I saw no Unboundants. Besides a few bear sightings, it was a clean journey.”

  “No matter,” Musku muttered. “That doesn’t mean they’re not there. I’m sure Atarax and Kakos were still on edge, although their presence alone was probably what kept the Unboundants at bay.”

  Rhyparia forced a half-hearted smirk. “They were anxious throughout the first half of the journey. It was odd. I’m not used to seeing them like that. Surprisingly enough, Therapif was the calmest of the trio.”

  “He is a healer,” Musku said. “Don’t underestimate those who work in such a profession. What else would you expect from someone who has to operate on dying patients? How many lives have been in his hands over the years?”

  Rhyparia’s gaze fell to the floor, reflecting on Therapif’s handling of Toshik. If it hadn’t been for the rabbit, Toshik would have joined Jilly in death.

  “I hope you’re mentally prepared for your upcoming trek through Realmular Tunnel,” Musku said.

  “I’m not, but that won’t stop me from carrying out the mission.”

  Musku’s hand reached over and lay on top of Rhyparia’s. “You’re ready. We may not have reached the planned timespan of twenty years, but nineteen should suffice. Besides, there’s something special about you.”

  Rhyparia glanced at the nightstand beside the bed, where a sundial wristband lay. “What will become of your ancient once you ...”

  She trailed off. Musku’s eyebrow arched as he finished her question: “Die?” As Rhyparia nodded, he said, “I will give Roinos to my wife. She will keep it in a safe place, for such an ancient is dangerous in the wrong hands.”

  Rhyparia hesitated before turning in her chair. As she studied the old woman, , Musku said, “Meet my wife, Shanti, and my son, Prakriti.”

  The mention of another name caused Rhyparia’s eyes to flutter across the room until she finally spotted a young man seated on a stool, sulking in the shadows. The candlelight waned long before reaching him.

  “I’m so sorry, Shanti,” Rhyparia said, her gaze returning to the woman whom Rhyparia had treated poorly upon entry earlier. “I didn’t know—”

  Rhyparia’s statement was inexplicably cut short. Her eyes spread wide, and she moved her lips and tongue to form words, but no sound escaped. She couldn’t speak.

  “I do not wish to hear you speak to me,” the woman said, her voice calm. The grief behind her words stung. “I do not wish you harm. In fact, I wish you good fortune. But that does not negate that I had to sacrifice decades of time with my husband for you. While the past ten months have not been much to me, I still know that for him, it was nearly sixty years.”

  Shanti tried straightening her back, as if to stand taller than possible. “But to watch you shove me to the side as you rush in here to weep into his sheets—like you know him better than I do ... You make it very difficult for me to support the mission he is about to die for.”

  As she ranted, Rhyparia tried again to speak. Yet again, no sound came out.

  “Let her speak, Shanti,” Musku wheezed.

  Suddenly, Rhyparia heard her own sporadic breaths. Without sound, she hadn’t recognized her own loss of composure.

  “Musku never informed me of a wife or son,” Rhyparia explained. “He didn’t tell me much of anything about his personal life unless it pertained to his time at Phesaw. I assure you I know a lot less about him than you. All of our time was spent training.”

  Shanti nodded. “I am aware. Trust me; I am not your enemy. I support Musku, as he works toward a greater good.”

  “If you knew about them, you wouldn’t have agreed to the plan,” Musku said.

  Rhyparia snapped her head around toward the Archain. “You’re right.”

  “Besides, I did hint at it once—back before I even showed you Realmular Tunnel. I told you that my presence was requested by someone ‘important.’”

  Rhyparia shook her head. “Vague.”

  Musku hacked up something thick. Shanti approached, grabbed a rag from a drawer, and pinched it against his lips. She pulled it away and crumpled it, then wiped his mouth.

  “Speak to my son as soon as possible,” Musku said. “Back when I told you of this mission, you pointed out that it wasn’t practical to travel through the chasm with months of supplies, food, and water for many reasons.”

  “Yes, and you told me you had it handled,” Rhyparia said.

  There was a knock on the door; Shanti opened it. Therapif hopped inside with a purse dangling by his side. “I was told this is the time,” the rabbit said. “My apologies for being a bit late. Unlike Lita Rhyparia, I cannot fly.”

  “Ah good,” Musku wheezed. “I’m ready for this elixir that you promised tastes like cinnamon.”

  Therapif hopped next to Rhyparia and s
aid, “Not in its natural state, but I gave it some flavor.”

  “Elixir for what?” Rhyparia asked.

  The rabbit’s ears unfolded, standing tall and brushing against her chin. He gazed up at her and said, “Death.”

  “More like poison!” she exclaimed.

  Musku smiled. “Not in this scenario.” Before Rhyparia could interject, he said, “Listen, when I told you I had it handled, I was referring to Prakriti. The two of you must speak soon. He’ll fill you in on his role.”

  Rhyparia looked into the corner’s shadows, where the quiet man sat. He hadn’t budged since her arrival.

  “But for now, I must ask that you leave,” Musku said. “You can wait for Prakriti at the base of the waterfall.”

  Not wanting to abandon him at such a time, she stared at Musku. Perhaps it was the tears in his eyes, which had been dry up until this point, but she knew she didn’t have a choice.

  “I want to spend these final moments with my family,” he whispered.

  Rhyparia hung her head before standing up. “I hope you make it to the empire,” she said.

  “Have an ethical day,” he said.

  And after that somber quote belonging to Archaic Director Senex, Rhyparia left the room. Musku had once been Senex’s student years ago. It was only fitting for him to pay his respects to the wise man before closing his eyes for the final time.

  * * *

  After Rhyparia left the cabin’s plateau, she descended to the bottom of the cliff. She blew past Saikatto, Rayne, and the other craftmasters, wishing only for a moment to herself before meeting with Prakriti.

  Sitting near the waterfall, just out of the guild’s sight, she allowed the crashing waters to calm her. A lot clouded her mind. If she’d known that Musku had a family, she wouldn’t have committed to this mission. She had just experienced nineteen years with him, yet didn’t stop to ask about the possibility of him having a family once. All he’d discuss were the original Jestivan—stories about Mendac, Thusia, Saikatto, Rayne, and him. She’d thought that they were his only family.