Page 13 of HeartTorn

I rub a hand down my face, pulling at the skin under my eyes. She wants a distraction. It hardly matters what I say so long as I keep talking, keep filling her ears with the sound of my voice while Elydark fills her soul with song. I understand what she needs. The truth is, I could use a distraction myself.

“I’ll tell you what I can,zylnala.I’ll tell you the story of when it began and, based on that story, I’ll tell you what wiser minds than mine have speculated as to the ongoing cause. In the end, you will know as much as I about the doom of Cruor.”

Another undulation presses against the bounds of Elydark’s light. I glance at it only briefly before focusing my attention back on Ilsevel, meeting her upturned gaze and holding it like a lifeline. For some moments I’m afraid I will not be able to find the words to tell my story, a story I have not had to tell anyone in many long years. In the end I must simply begin and see where the tale carries me.

“In ages past theluinarof Licorna ruled from Evisar, the seat of our kingdom. It was a magnificent city, the likes of which has never been seen in the human world, a rival even for the mightiest strongholds of the Eledrian realms. And at its heart stood the great Citadel of the Stars . . .”

Evisar was so beautiful, even the kings and queens of the fae would sometimes visit to treat with theluinarandmaelarof Licorna so that they might enjoy the bounty of their hosts. The golden towers, the lush gardens, the streets built in such harmony that the very paving stones seemed to sing beneath the feet of those who walked them.

But most of all they desired to see the licorneir and to hear their song. For there is nothing like that song to be found elsewhere in all the worlds.

My father, Thalorkhir, ruled Licorna for many years and was considered as wise, just, and fair a monarch as any of his forefathers. He took to wife Ashtalora of the House of Ehlark. Upon their marriage, they were soul-bonded to Onoril and Mahra, the father and mother of all licorneir. Such is the tradition for the sovereigns of Licorna, going back generations uncounted. Thus the great song of Onoril and Mahra remained unbroken, and the glory of Licorna undimmed in the worlds.

When I was still a young boy, my father would sometimes take me with him out into the open countryside beyond the city and ride with me before him on Onoril’s back. “One day,” he would tell me, “you and Onorilwill bond. It is your destiny, as it was mine before you.”

“But how can that be?” I would respond curiously. “If you die, will not Onoril be hearttorn?”

“No indeed,” my father would answer. “His soul will remain connected to mine through you and through the blood you bear.It was the same for my father and his father before him, all the way back to the beginning of our world. We must protect the song of the licorneir. It is the life’s blood of our world.”

“And what of Mahra?” I asked. “Will she bond with Tassa?”

At this Father shook his head. “Your sister’s fate lies elsewhere. One day you will choose a great lady to be queen of Licorna and rule at your side. It is her soul which shall be bound with Mahra. Such is the will of the goddess.”

If my sister had been born first, our roles would have been reversed: she, as heir, would have bonded to Mahra, and her chosen husband, having proven himself worthy, given to Onoril. But it had been many generations since a crown princess was born, and though Tassa resented what she perceived as destiny’s preference for me, neither of us questioned it.

So I rode with my father, listening to echoes of the unique song Onoril sang in tandem with the king’s soul. Sometimes I almost thought I heard the great licorneir’s true name sung in my heart. In those moments I believed that I and Onoril would one day bond as we were meant to. That destiny would play out according to its established mold.

But then the Miphates came.

The Licornyn had no dealings with humans for many generations, having found their mages to be unsavory folk. Always hungry for new ways to access the magic of thequinsatraand increase their own standing among the leaders of the various worlds, they could be conniving, untrustworthy, even dangerous.

But one day a prince of the human world came to our gates. He was an adventurer hero among his own kind—Larongar Cyhorn by name. It was said he vanquished the dragon of Mount Helesatra and was therefore favored by thegods. I do not know how true this story is, but my father was convinced. He welcomed the prince into Evisar City along with a contingent of mortal mages.

There was one mage in their number who was older than the rest—an absolutely decrepit man. As a child, I thought him foul and terrifying. While the Licornyn people are not full-blooded fae and, therefore, age like mortals, they do so much more slowly and far more gracefully. But there was a sense of grasping about this man, as though he was clinging onto life. The more he clung, the more twisted and warped his body became. His face, I remember, was strangely smooth, while his neck and hands were covered in wrinkles. His body was as emaciated as a corpse, and I suspect he was performing life-sustaining magic on himself, but at a terrible cost.

Child that I was, I was not privy to the councils of my father, mother, and their strange human guests. Now all those who were with them have perished, and I have only my guesses as to what befell during those long conferences between King Thalor, Prince Larongar, and the Miphates. I do know that by the time the mortal prince left, half the Miphates remained behind.

They took up residence in the Citadel of Stars, which was the heart of my father’s palace and a great center of power and magic in the realm. It was said to have been built on the very site where Nornala opened the gates of heaven and sent Onoril and Mahra through at the dawn of our world. The majesty and mystery of the divine lingered there, at least according to tradition.

What took place within the citadel thereafter, I do not know. The Miphates rarely left it in the weeks following their prince’s departure. My father spent more and more time with them, sometimes disappearing through those great doors for days on end.

My mother grew anxious, her mouth often pinched in a strict, worried line. When I was small, my parents were always in accord, and there was great affection between them I believe. Now they argued . . . over what, I know not. But the discord of their spirits seemed to darken the very halls of our home.

Weeks passed. Months, perhaps; I was too young to be aware of the passage of time. Mother grew ever more pale and anxious, her temper short, her nerves frayed. Once Tassa worked up the courage to speak to her, saying, “Mama, what do the Miphates want with Father? What are they doing in the citadel?”

Mother narrowed her eyes. My sister flinched, expecting one of her sharp reprimands. To our surprise, however, she sighed and shook her head. “Sometimes,” she said, “men grow discontented with their lot and seek means to exceed that which has been divinely ordained.”

This was not a satisfactory answer. But Tassa could wheedle no more from my mother’s closed lips. We’ve both talked of it in the years since. Even now, on long winter nights, we will sit together before a fire and seek to scry some meaning from the enigmatic words. At the time all we knew for certain was that our mother was deeply distressed, but neither of us could bear to ask her more questions.

It wasn’t much later when strange things began to happen around the citadel. Inexplicable ripples of darkness would shudder suddenly up the walls, vanishing almost as soon as they appeared. Sometimes the sun would seem to darken, though there was no cloud in the sky. After these episodes—always so brief, one almost believed one had imagined them—a great heaviness would come over my soul. I began to be truly afraid, though of what I could not name.

This went on for the better part of a year. I began to fear my life would never go back to the way it was before. My motherwould never smile, my father would never find time for me. I would never again enjoy those beautiful long rides beyond the city limits with Onoril. Hatred for the Miphates swelled in my heart, particularly for that old Miphato. I never saw him again after he passed through the citadel doors. But he was in there; I knew it. And I knew as well that he was at the center of all this trouble.

One day there was a strange flicker of blackness, which split the sky in innumerable branches, like spreading lightning. It was so much worse, so much greater than the shadows which sometimes surrounded the tower, but over in a flash, leaving Tassa and me stunned in its wake. We stared out the window of our chamber, open-mouthed. Then slowly we turned to each other. Tassa whispered, “Did you see that?”

Before I could answer, Mother burst into the room. We were in our study hall with Master Mitalar, our tutor.He leapt out from behind his desk to bow to his queen, but she ignored him and scooped Tassa up in her arms. “Come with me, Taar,” she said, without a trace of softness in her voice. “Hurry.”

“Maelar!”Master Mitalar called after her as she hastened to the door.“Maelar,what is wrong? Is there anything I might do?”

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