“What little is written of the Juran tells us they were not a ragtag group of rebels. They were well-trained, well-armed, and they struck with all the ferocity of the beasts they stood beside.”

~ Bek Trent, M.A.S.O

"Sendelphon is dead.”

Silence greeted the unexpected announcement. Silence followed by a single, strangled question.

“How?”

Silver tilted her head slightly to view the speaker, but it seemed several people had asked at once. They were all gathered – or more accurately crammed, seeing as there were considerably more people gathered in the room than had been present the night before – into the large room at the base of the meetinghouse. More than one of those people was vampire rather than human, and among the new faces, she found that Restir and Olrier were present, as were Vespar, Urias, Thame, Rolland, and Yul – the vampires she would, according to Olrier, soon come to know for her training. Unexpectedly, they were also joined by Yanrian and Sheurai, a mobile plant that had draped itself along the windowsill to regard them rather eerily with one mossy extension, and several ordinary enough birds. A tiny, crystalline creature had settled itself into a corner of the room without a sound, and two bats Silver had learned were the ambassadors of the nightwings in the north had perched on the wooden beams overhead.

Currently, however, all eyes – and other primary sensory organs – were directed towards Illian, who was seated at one end of the low-slung table. Dirk sat on one side of him, his bandages hidden in thick clothing, Cevora on the other. She had donned a luxurious dress that befitted a princess, deep sea-blue silk, rich against the golden bangles around her arms and the thin band that rested just above her brow.

“An insurgence group, apparently. Jurian Hourtrig, youngest son of the guild master of the school of chemistry, is rumored to have led the movement to kill him and take his place at the head of Atlantis. It is less a surprise than it may seem. Popular unrest has been mounting for months, rising with rumors that Sendelphon’s unjust thievery of the Stones of Alti was the cause of the Ruveris Plague, rather than a curse as we suspect. Hourtrig himself has no particular influence, despite his father’s standing. He’ll likely be dead in a week, disemboweled by a successor of some sort. We know of at least two small armies, sent from lesser cities to the north, who are laying siege to the capital as we speak. The point,” Illian said more softly, “is that the population of Atlantis has been decimated by the plague, and is unlikely to serve any threat against Alti in the years to come. The high court of Atlantis is distracted by squabbling between the guilds, each trying to fill the void left by the king’s death. Any day now, the paradise city will fall. Soon, Renzan srinn will have no enemy left save the beasts. He knows this.”

“For those who do not know,” Cevora said, turning to the room, but looking, Silver thought, at her, “the threat posed by Atlantis was a very real one to us, until now. Less than a generation ago, the blood of the Altins had been spread widely through Alti. Although the only requirement for taking the throne is to complete the trials, royalty often came from the Altin bloodline, simply because they are powerful magic users. Brothers, sisters, cousins…they often lived within the castle, serving in the MASO or the council. Having a large royal family granted Alti a level of stability. There was no fear, among those who followed the throne, that if the srinn should die, a successor would rise quickly to fill their place. There was likewise no concern that, should someone not of the Altin line rise to the throne, their death would result in a void like that Atlantis still faces – the Altins would simply step forward, as they always had. An unspoken agreement existed that to leave the Altins as they were was best, even if they held a place of unnatural esteem in Alti. The Atlantians knew this. When they sent their navy to demand resources to do battle with the Ottomans, they threatened not the srinn of Alti, but their family. We called their bluff.”

Her eyes were haunted.

“It was a mistake. Most of the bloodline was obliterated. Hundreds of thousands died at the hands of the Atlantians. The srinn called on the beasts to help us, but they refused. A conflict among humans, they claimed, is a conflict between humans. That was the beginning of the council’s distrust of the beasts. They claimed the Keliarn Agreement had not been honored, even that the beasts hoped Atlantis would destabilize Alti, allowing them to take back the land we once stole from them. The threat of Atlantis striking again while we fought the beasts may have prompted the king’s building of Nersifral as much as his fear that the beasts would strike first – and it prevented war between beasts and men. So long as Atlantis breathed down our necks, he could not strike out at the dragons. News that Sendelphon is dead is dire news, indeed.”

“We won our independence from Atlantis…who even knows how long ago it was now,” Sori muttered, “It doesn’t matter. The only creatures with memories longer than dragons are men, and our memories are notoriously light on the details. The people of Atlantis still believe that Alti should be a part of their land, that we are a young and belligerent race of people refusing to acknowledge our mother country.”

“What of Sendelphon’s research?” Olrier asked, drawing everyone’s eyes to where the vampires sat at the other end of the table, nearest the bats and the window. Most of his kind were lined up behind him, leaving space at the table for everyone else.

“Lost,” Illian said, “Possibly destroyed.”

“Intentionally, I suspect,” Olrier purred, “Particularly if he was studying the Stones.”

“All the better for us,” Vespar said from behind him.

Olrier silenced the younger vampire with a glance. “He was warned many times that magic was something outside of his realm of understanding, and that to seek its secrets through something as dangerous as the Stones would be a lethal mistake. For a single human, he may have done more damage than any of us imagined he could. You say you believe a curse of some kind is the basis of the plague your people suffer…I say the power of the Stones is the equivalent of any curse.”

“Weren’t the Stones supposed to be our defense against the Atlantians?” Hiyein asked, looking between ends of the table.

“Yes,” Cevora replied slowly, “they were handed over at the end of the Great War, as a condition of our peace with Atlantis.”

“We cautioned against it,” Olrier observed, “but at that point, there was little choice.”

Sara cleared her throat, narrowing her brown eyes. “If I recall, the vampires were also involved in the safekeeping of the Stones, hmmm? They were known to be extraordinarily dangerous, sealed in places deep within the earth, where their magic could do no damage. It’s very likely that Sendelphon was unaware of the dangers. Or I should say,” she grinned, “someone neglected to explain them to him, hmmm?”

Silver felt her breath freeze in her throat. No one had ever mentioned any danger associated with the Stones, and she had been carrying the Dawn around since they had recovered it from the Zara weeks ago. Evidently, Bek had come to the same conclusion, as his eyes found hers as Sara spoke.

“Indeed, the Stones are remnants of a much more ancient treasure,” Olrier said with a flash of his ivory fangs, “They are the last…and there are among us those who believe they should have been destroyed centuries ago.”

Silver swallowed. The Stone was nestled in her backpack; a benign, quiet thing, its magic pulsing softly like a heartbeat, so faint she could barely sense it. It was completely different than when she had first seen it. She had never wondered what that meant until now. Where had the magic in the Stone gone?

“And so, we come to today,” Cevora declared. “With Atlantis no longer a threat, we must be prepared for Alti to strike against the beasts at any time, day or night. We have the word of both beasts and dragons to go to war at our sides, as allies. Today, I ask for one more promise. When the war is done, I wish to remake the Agreements. As srinn of Alti, I will welcome the vampires back into our cities. It may not happen immediately, but in time, things will change. The beasts, too, will be free to come and go. We will respect the boundaries laid down by the dragons, and the sanctity of the Issurak. As in the past, I would exchange a symbol of this promise.”

She turned her eyes defiantly on the vampires.

“I ask to take up Izathral, Olrier, srinn of vampires. It is the symbol of the beasts’ trust. In return, we will present the four Stones to the dragons.” Her eyes moved to the bats and the tree wolves. “Will this be sufficient for the beasts?”

In silence, the beasts looked at one another. Even the plant rustled its mossy threads, coiling tighter around the windowsill.

“Yes,” Sheurai growled, after a long moment. She then looked at Silver. “I cannot speak for the dragons, but I know they will be pleased.” Artful words, from a beast. Silver repeated them, feeling the vampires’ eyes on her, burning.

“Then, Olrier, since you are neither man nor beast, what do you ask of me as a symbol of our trust?” Cevora asked.

“Allow the vampires to aid in retrieving the Stones,” he said in measured tones, “this will prove to me that you trust us. I have contacts in Atlantis already. It behooves you as well, does it not? As we discussed yesterday, the seijak, what you call the Ruveris Plague, will not affect us.”

His words brought an uncomfortable silence, but Cevora did not seem to dislike his proposal. For the first time in days, Silver saw her smile faintly.

“This is acceptable.”

“Then we have something more,” Terald said, pushing a piece of parchment across the table so that everyone could lean in and peer at it, “this is what Ibald has suggested we use as our symbol, the dragon of the Juran.” Silver knew the symbol immediately. It was the same dragon that the Zara had shown to her, the one inscribed into the floor of the Castle of Divides.

Zarius.

That was the name of Illian’s dragon. She exhaled slowly as conversation broke out around her, critiques and exclamations of surprise. Olrier looked stoic, but several of the younger vampires behind him were grinning from ear to ear. When she glanced in their direction, Olrier met her gaze, and she felt a shiver go down her spine.

“We will ask the bears of Muritia to trade their metals and expertise for your engravings,” he said, his voice cutting effortlessly through the chatter in the meetinghouse, “our armor will have to be light. Our resources will not be enough for more.”

“It will have to be enough,” Illian agreed. “Terald, tell Ibald he has done good work.”

He received nods around the table.

“Given the choice, do we strike first, or wait?” Ren spoke for the first time, leaned back against the wall, like the vampires, to leave space at the table.

“We honor the Agreements. We wait,” the bats quipped from overhead, one of them batting his wings in agitation. “Tell them.”

Silver did, and Dirk responded, “Honor kills men on the battlefield.”

Yanrian growled. “There is no honor on the battlefield, human, but there is honor in the hunt.”

“Explain yourself,” Olrier demanded icily, drawing confused looks from the half of the room that did not understand.

“There are beasts yet that remember the Agreements. Men would rule the earth, dragons the skies, keliarn the heavens. If we break the pact, men will grow old and die and pass the stories of our treachery to their young. The dragons would sooner destroy all of Alti than be reviled by men and unjustly called the treacherous. With every breath we spare to ensure our good standing in your short memories, we save you humans from yourselves.”

Silver repeated the tree wolf’s words, observing that Olrier did not seem keen to do so.

“It suits us to wait,” Illian said, glancing at several of the captains of the guard, who had arrayed themselves near the stairs. “We will not tip our hand till the end.”

“Then we are decided,” Cevora stated. “You will hear more from us as news rolls in. Meanwhile, we all have tasks to attend to.” The princess dismissed them, but for a long moment, no one moved. Olrier was the first to stand, and the vampires stood with him. He lost no time heading towards the door, but as he did so, he paused at Silver’s shoulder.

“Come with me,” he said, the command clearly intended for her and Bek. Silver felt Cevora’s gaze on her as she stood, following the vampires from the room with the wolf at her side. Silver did glance back once, checking to see that Bek followed. His gaze was averted, but he did.

If she worried about what it was the vampires wanted from her, Olrier soon laid those worries to rest. That day he tested the both of them, and no more kindly than Holtson would have. He had dug up some sort of horrifically heavy armor, which was saying something since it hardly even had any metal on it. That was what he had them run in. It was what he had them wear when they turned to sword work. As she had expected, although she would have still been no real match for Holtson or Illian, or even for the higher-level trainees Holtson had trained before she arrived at the outpost, Silver was suddenly markedly better than she had been before falling ill. And she learned faster as well.

Bek noticed. She could see it in his eyes, even when Olrier paired them off, her with Vespar and he with Urias. She loved sword work in a way she never had before. It was grueling, thankless work, but it felt familiar.

Nothing like archery.

Olrier straight up told her it would not be worthwhile to give her one of the short bows some of the soldiers would carry into battle. He also scoffed at her inability to use her magic while they were actually fighting. He had clearly expected the explosive strength she had displayed when he first roused her. Rather than an impossibility, it now simply felt elusive. Sometimes, Silver stepped a little faster. Sometimes, she felt the echoes of her magic, filling her up. She could not explain to any of them that she was too afraid to really use it. It felt like eels beneath her skin. Searing, flesh-eating eels. Every time the magic came to her, she pushed it away.

“Where is the strength you showed me?” Olrier asked her when Vespar threw her to the ground for the fifth time. Bek was doing much better than she was; he was almost a match for Urias. Almost.

Olrier leered down at her. When Silver did not answer, he made a sound of disgust, and waved dismissively at her. “No matter, Silver. We have all the time in the world. You’ve a guest.”

He gestured in the direction of the city, and she followed his hand with her eyes while she decided whether to remind him that he was wrong; they had no time at all. Cara was standing there, watching them with wide blue eyes.

“Tomorrow,” Olrier promised as Silver looked back at him. “I expect you out here at this time tomorrow. The witch claimed you are her apprentice – I informed her she can have you in the mornings. Understood?”

Silver nodded mutely, already starting to peel off the heavy armor. It was hard to imagine anyone ever wanting to put it on after her. She lugged it back with her, hoping to clean it, while Olrier went to critique something between Bek and Urias. Cara watched her come, fidgeting at the city gates.

“Hey,” Silver said, trying to get her sweaty hair, and her sweat, to stay out of her eyes. She was literally dripping. “What’d you need? Was Sara looking for me?”

“No. I wanted to see…” Cara glanced over to where Bek and Urias were still grappling with each other. “I have something for you. I’m sorry it took so long.” Silver was surprised when Cara reached down and began to unwind a smooth metal cord, broken at half-inch intervals by ringed seams that allowed it to coil and bend, from around her waist. “As promised, I fixed it for you.”

As if on command, the cord began to move. Its snake-like coils slid quickly around the girl’s arm until something like a head became visible over her left shoulder. It was a narrow hook resembling a scythe, probably half a foot in length, split into two lethal prongs. Set within the sleek, silver head of the weapon were two glossy gemstones the size of Silver’s palm, one blue and one red. They gave the unnerving appearance of eyes placed high above a hooked metal beak; the eyes of a harpy or siren, gleaming dully with Cara’s magic.

“I altered the spells in it a bit, to make it more protective.” The girl turned her head slightly so that her hand and cheek brushed the slick metal of the weapon, and said, “Go to her now,” very softly. After several motionless seconds, the thing complied, unwinding itself from around the younger girl’s body and sitting up, serpent-like, as if expecting that Silver would grasp hold of it. She did, feeling her body stiffen as the living weapon slid down her arm and settled around her waist as it had done with Cara. Its head and tail settled gently and motionlessly at her hip.

“You should practice with it. I can still tweak the spells now,” Cara suggested. “You can bring it to me anytime. I’m,” she blushed, “I’ve gotten a bit fond of it. I want to make another one now, hmmm.” She was smiling so brightly Silver could not help but smile back.

“Thank you, Cara,” Silver said, patting the rope familiarly. “We’ll be good friends.”

“You’d better. Well…Ibald asked me to tell Bek his mechanical genius even has the vampire smiths in awe. Let him know, would you? I have to go find some wyrmroot for Sara, or she’ll have my hide.”

Before Silver could say anything, the younger girl had turned to hurry back into the city, pointing down the cobbled streets and muttering cheerfully to herself.

Slowly, Silver turned back to the others. The wolf was nearby, and she went to wait with the silvery beast until Olrier dismissed Bek as well. He removed his armor as she had, and then turned to leave. When he saw her waiting, Bek hesitated. She saw his expression move between indecision and calm. That was unusual. Then he came towards her, lugging his own armor as well.

“Ibald praises your mechanical genius,” she said as he approached. Bek cocked his head slightly to one side.

“Of course he does,” he said, continuing when Silver turned to walk beside him towards the armory, “They had nothing like computerized devices here when we arrived; now they do.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, watching him as he spoke.

“I had Cara find the materials I needed, and altered a few of Ibald’s devices to respond to magic flow using logic gates. By using materials with different magical-resistance, I showed her how we can build a regulator, so even non-magic wielders can use the magic stored in the inkervan.”

Silver was nodding slowly.

“The regulator allows for a slow release of power over time, but only when the circuit is complete. Even for magic users, the regulator is key; their power won’t be depleted as quickly, since they can use it to moderate the regulator rather than for materialization. The ability to switch the logic gates based on the amount of resistance in the regulator changes the behavior of the weapon…they do something similar already. Ibald calls it tuning.”

Silver narrowed her eyes, staring at the blue-stone buildings ahead of them as she tried to imagine what he was describing. Libertia was a beautiful city after nightfall, both ghostly and surreal. Truly, it was a city inhabited by the dead, yet it struck as many chords of wonder in her as it did fear.

“So you came back in time and built some sort of primitive computer for the Altians? Into their weapons?” she surmised.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“And how in the world did you know how to do that?” Silver asked.

“Hobbies,” Bek volunteered, drawing her eyes back to him in surprise, “with magic, even things impossible for modern day technicians are possible for magic users.” He did not seem happy, though she sensed that what he had done was a form of real genius, just as Ibald had suggested. “Non-magical humans rely on electricity, but the machines they use daily would confound our technicians and engineers. Our power source is magic, is our bodies, is the world itself. Our circuits are silver and gold and fine metal, gemstones and glass. Our programs are chalked lines, ink on paper, whispered words, and thoughts. Things people like you rely on to live your lives would seem useless and wasteful to someone in a world like this, where magic is in everything.”

“Give me an example.”

He glanced down at her, considering. “Any sort of plug, for one. Magic’s conveyed by touch alone. Stoves. Heating something with magic is so simple…”

“Computers but no stoves?”

“Computers are considerably more useful than stoves, don’t you think?” Bek asked reasonably.

“I guess.” He must have sensed that she actually disagreed.

Well,” he stopped in front of the armory, and she stopped with him, “I prefer computers over all the fourteenth century nonsense most magic users are so fond of. Things have to change. Computers reduce wasteful thoughts, and wasteful magic expenditure. Programs let everyone do with their power what Cara does with hers. There isn’t so much magic in our time...we have to make our own.”

Silver listened intently, unsure how to respond.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he said as he took her armor from her to hang it on the pegs in the armory. Silver could sense his magic at work, hopefully scouring the thick leather clean.

“I don’t really know what you do in our time,” she observed, eyeing him as the wolf shifted around her legs. “You were sent to investigate me. It seems like you work with computers and with…I don’t know, integrating magic and technology.”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” he said, heading back out into the streets with her.

“What kind of programmer investigates people who are being chased by the Zara?”

“I have a degree in mechanical engineering,” he said, looking at her, “that was something I won for myself. It had nothing to do with my work. I was a special investigator with the MASO.”

His answer was so definite, so confident, that for a moment Silver did not know what to say.

“You have a degree? You’re what…you’re the same age as me, right?”

A dark light had appeared in his eyes. But he was not going to say more. His mask was back in place, his thoughts buried far away from her prying gaze.

“Why is there so much less magic in our time?” she changed the subject carefully, turning her eyes to the world around them once more.

“Maybe because the dragons are gone. Maybe because people just don’t need it anymore.”

“Do you really believe that, Bek?”

“What I believe doesn’t matter,” he said, stopping. She realized only then that they were outside the meetinghouse.

“What would I have been?” she asked. “I was never really clear on what my job was going to be at the MASO.” Bek nodded slowly, staring down the cobbled streets. She had the sense he knew where her question was coming from. When they returned to their era, she had no idea what she would do with her power. As he had once observed, she could not simply ignore her magic and live a normal life.

“A lab technician,” he lied, meeting her gaze. Why she knew it was a lie, she was not sure. Something in his tone. “Jorik would have pushed for you to work under me, and I would have pushed back. You’re not cut out for the work I did for them, Silver. I knew that from the moment I showed up in your hospital room. But that doesn’t matter now. I’ll leave you to Sori,” he looked past her, and she turned, seeing Sori standing in the doorway, watching them. Silver wondered how much the woman had heard. Knowing Bek, not much.

When Silver turned back, he was halfway down the cobbled street, heading in the direction of his shared quarters.