Death of the Guardian: Light of Adua, #6

By Brien Feathers

—So falls the realm of light into the eternal night—

Hailing from the House of Light, Irsen now seeks guardianship of the realm, but first, he must convince Ka Lord Aten to gift him the pinnacle of Mind magic—omniscient Sight. Yet, when a dark apparition appears, it manifests in unforetold chaos that threatens to crush the fledgling alliance.

Fire Lord Quirinius longs for peace, but as the High Council jails the Ka bastard in Terra, past wounds reopen and threaten to bring about war. Heavy losses lie ahead, and both sides stand to suffer.

Meanwhile, Drake struggles with loss and grief, and unable to grasp that Ana has sent him to another world, he wastes precious time drifting in his dreams. When at last he sees the truth, it may be too late to correct the timeline his presence has disrupted.

Bedlam results from the Elder Commander's arrival in the Guardian Realm, and any remaining hope may be lost if the Houses are split asunder . . .      

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brien Feathers
• Release date: Dec 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9789919985462

Brien Feathers

Dark fantasy author, poet, screenwriter, and cat enthusiast living in the land of Mongols.

Book preview

Death of the Guardian

Brien Feathers

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Brien Feathers

Copyright © 2022 by Brien Feathers.

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Karen Dimmick at Arcane Covers.

Illustrated map designed by BMR Williams.

Contents

Part One

1. Captain of Light

2. Forever

3. Ka Sight

4. Apparition

5. Darkling

6. Flying Fortress

Part Two

7. Beautifully Mad

8. Merciful Mother

9. Gone

10. Many Lifetimes

11. Tristan

12. Petty

13. Firefly

Part Three

14. Leap of Faith

15. Into the Fray

16. A Daughter

17. Sandstorm

18. Nana

19. Silver Kinjal

20. Well

21. Naïve Dreams

22. A Joke

Part Four

23. Nothing Left to See

24. Worthy Mission

25. The Hikari Way

26. Raven Cawed

27. Love

28. The Champions

War for the Realm

Redeemer

From the Author

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Part One

Chapter one

Captain of Light

A wren had nested inside Irsen’s roof. He woke up because it was rustling right overhead and chirping.

Shoo, Irsen whispered, groggy.

Morning Grace peered through the white paper-paneled windows up above. Yawning and stretching, Irsen squished Lu’s face with his palm. A single gold eye—the other still shut—squinted at him half open, then Lu pulled the cover over his head. The Fire prince’s mat was next to his now, but they’d shared the same one last night.

Irsen got up, rolled his mat and put his blanket and sheet into a closet, and slid the door closed. He folded the paper divider that separated the sleeping space from the main room and saw the fire had burned out in the rectangular earth at the center of his home. The old wooden boards groaned as he walked around his home, changing his robe. Autumn in Sheritei, the mornings were chilly.

Irsen didn’t want to start a fire to make tea and didn’t want to wake Lu. After he changed into cotton breeches, boots for the morning dew, and a warm cloak, he took the little wooden bucket containing his grooming items and stepped out onto the porch.

With a ladle of water from the wooden water bucket Irsen brushed his teeth, washed his face, then sat on the cypress boards of the porch, brushing his hair in the mirror—compliments of the Ka. Unlike the polished metal looking trays of the Ignis, Ka mirrors were made of glass blown from heated sand. Master Genkei, who hoarded trinkets from different lands, had been coveting Irsen’s mirror since Lu gifted it to him, but Irsen liked the mirror and the reflection in it as well.

‘Your hair is so white and so soft!’ Lu would say running his hand through it. ‘It’s like touching a puff of clouds.’

Irsen braided his hair and tied it with a cobalt blue ribbon, the color of his House. He didn’t understand why his cloak couldn’t be blue. Though the seven white rings on his sleeve—a ring for each level of mastery, seven being the highest—pleased him, brown wasn’t a good color on him. Master Genkei had been capped out at four for decades and Mika was trying for her third.

He had only seven because that was the highest rank—which Irsen had achieved when he was eight—but if more could have been added, he'd have them by the tens now. He was a prodigy, unheard of for the last thousand years, perhaps longer.

‘The power of Light balances the dark,’ Highchair Furui would say. ‘Your ability advances because darkness intrudes into the realm.’ She was convinced that the light was fading, and darkness was in the realm.

Irsen didn’t know how that would be with the nine seals of the ancients still intact, yet he believed her; he’d believe her if she said the sky was magenta. After the governess of Light was lost at sea, Highchair Furui had been a mother to both him and Sheyla. The highest-ranking mortal of the realm, well over three hundred years old, yet she would come to entertain Irsen and his sister, bring them sweet cakes and take them on a ride to the flying fortress of the High Council.

Heavy fog crawled down the mountains of Yama into the valley of Mist, like a wanting lover, softly caressing the lush grass moist with dew. The morning birds sang with their many pitches and loud insects were starting up. Irsen stepped off his porch and felt his cloak grow heavy, gathering water at the hem as it brushed the wet grass, turning a shade of darker brown from the bottom.

The neighbor’s house was a shape in the fog, and the inn—less than five hundred paces from his house—was a mystery shape till Irsen was at its doors.

Inside the two-story inn, the second floor being for guests, the dining hall was a single open space with dark wooden walls and pillars. Pine sawdust covered the floor. Irsen, who didn’t mind the crisp Sheritei dew on his attire, pulled up his cloak so the wet cotton wouldn’t gather woodchips dirty with footprints of foreigners. Wearing boots indoors and having pine dust on the floor wasn’t the Hikari way, but the inn was for visitors from other Houses, and they were filthy. He took off his cloak and draped it on the back of the stool as he sat by the bar.

Yama hostels were full of visitors gathering for the Light Festival in honor of his mother. The leftover foreigners had spilled into Mist inn, otherwise a quiet town. Every table seated, Irsen saw some Zhai merchants, easily identifiable with their yellow hair and overly lavish attire, Djed workers who probably saved up money for the travel, and even some Fire families with their ginger crowns. Not all Fire were redheaded, just their nobility, so Irsen nodded, acknowledging the dignitaries.

It was a family run inn, and the young daughter behind the bar knew Irsen enjoyed salted fish and rice porridge with seaweed for his breakfast. Irsen didn’t like to cook in his home and ate here often; the old woman Niko who ran the inn would often say, ‘Get a proper wife, Captain. Someone who can cook you a hot meal.’ But Irsen’s wife was still asleep, not proper at all, the boy had never cooked a meal in his life. He’d never even saddled a horse and Irsen had to teach him how. Furthermore, if one of them had to be picked as a ‘wife’, it would probably be Irsen. Not according to their status, of course, Irsen was an heir while Lu was a bastard, but their private preference pegged Lu as the dominant.

Another late riser, Mika sauntered through the door. She almost managed to trip over a stray dog looking for scraps, then came to intrude Irsen’s space, nearly dipping her white hair in his porridge. He slid the bowl out of the way, then pushed Mika’s head away as well.

What are you having, Captain? she had been saying, leaning over the bar when Irsen guided her head back. Wow, all these people. She looked around. Captain’s mother was beloved.

Pfff, fucken peasants never met her, never mind love her. They’re just here for the spectacle.

Well… The yawning Mika twisted in the stool, cracking her back. They do say that if one releases a lantern from the peak of Yama Mount during the Light Festival, one’s wish comes true. I’ve been saving money for a lantern, Captain. I’m going to wish for a handsome prince.

There’s one sleeping in my house. Coyly, Irsen sipped his tea.

You and I don’t agree on what handsome is, Captain. For one, you think of yourself as handsome.

Irsen studied Mika: white hair, white brows, and pale. The brown was also a bad color on her; full-blood Hikari women weren’t attractive. Like his humorless sister Sheyla, they were simply variances of dull. To be vibrant, one had to possess red hair and golden irises, Irsen decided. Freckles were adorable as well for they added color to the face. Remembering Lu had freckles on his back, Irsen smiled.

Don’t have to be a Ka to see what you’re dilly-dallying about, Captain, said Mika through the corner of her lips, twisted in a crooked smile.

Never you mind, he said, getting up to leave her to eat alone.

I’ll see you at the school, Captain. She waved a hand without turning around. Don’t be late, Master Genkei won’t be happy.

Irsen hadn’t scheduled a lesson and had been hoping to be relieved of his teaching duties altogether. I don’t have a class today.

Yes, you do, Captain. Turning, Mika spoke with rice in her mouth. The Fire children, she said while chewing.

Irsen’s shoulders sagged—he forgot. Amidst all the other duties he had, including negotiating peace with the Ka, he had to go entertain the children of noble twats.

Fine, he muttered under his breath and was out the door because he was running late, and Aten Ka was always early.

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Irsen rode on the muddy road up the mountain terrain, a well-traveled path with the soil indented from wagon wheels. Carriages, carts, and riders ahead of him pulled over to the side and the drivers bowed to let him pass. Had Irsen never traveled outside of Sheritei, he’d think the world was made of kneeling people, their foreheads touching the wet earth. Farmers on paddies, children by huts, wives, husbands, sons and daughters, everyone kneeled and bowed—he rarely saw anyone’s face. Yet they all knew him. A careless child pointed at him as he rode by and her mother corrected her, restraining the pointing hand and pushing her head down.

Forgive us for the offense, Captain of Light, the woman apologized profusely.

Irsen veered off the road and trotted through the trees to reach the meeting point by the creek, away from curious eyes. A day had come that he was riding to meet a Ka lord, unarmed. There was peace in the realm, a kind unknown to his predecessors. House of Fire had acted in bad faith bringing the frivolous complaint against Lu in the High Court, so now it was up to Irsen to make certain the peace remained.

Unlike other parts of the realm, the old cypress trees kept their hunter-green cloak throughout the season in the evergreen lands of Sheritei. The boulders by the creek were also green, covered with moss, and indistinguishable from patches of grass from a distance. When Irsen saw Aten he dismounted, held the reins, and walked with Stormbird, his steed, following behind. A gift from the House of Fire, Stormbird was a purebred warhorse—a prized possession like his mirror. In becoming attached to possessions Irsen wondered if he was to become Master Genkei in old age, his house full of trinkets he’d hoarded.

Aten was crouched, inspecting the soil as if he could see, and a Zhai who’d been with him curtsied when she saw Irsen. Good morning, Master Irsen of Hikari.

Master? Ah, then he recognized her—Sumya. A common girl, some merchant’s daughter who graduated some moons ago. She’d started too old to learn to magic and her gift was meager, yet, with such modest birth and talent, here she was, a personal portaler to the Ka lord. It served her well to be young with a perky chest. Aten’s generosity to women, even to his own sister, was well known. Irsen was still yet to meet Keket, the self-proclaimed queen of the realm.

Greetings from the Ka and the Queen, said Aten, wiping dirt off his hands. Such fertile soil you have.

Compared to dry sand? asked Irsen because he’d seen Elsenhot—the so-called ‘City of Dunes’. The Ka lived in an inhospitable place.

In the simple light fabric garment the Ka wore, Aten’s belt was empty—he wasn’t armed either. Not bothering with the mask and showing the scars plain on his face, the lord held only the bamboo cane Lu got for him from Sheritei.

‘It’s so light!’ Lu had been fascinated with it when he found it in a shop in Yama. ‘My uncle will love this. He’s always complaining that his cane is heavier than his sword.’

You know, you can simply call me to speak, said Aten as if everyone didn’t know ‘speaking’ to a Ka was like lying with a whore: one was bound to catch lice. The messenger, the letter, and my coming here all complicate our situation further. If you do not wish to speak to me, you can ask my nephew who, by the way, does not speak to me these days, to relay the information. He says you forbade him. What is the reason, if I may ask?

Although the mist had thinned, it hadn’t completely cleared over the creek. A cuckoo sounded far away, and a nearby warbler answered. It always smelled like wet soil in Sheritei, a thing Irsen only noticed after he’d traveled out of his lands for the first time. That and burning wood from the chimneys—another smell Irsen cherished.

Aten frowned, his eyebrows split with a scar. Taking an impatient posture, he’d clasped his hands behind his back, the cane tapping his heel. Irsen took his time while he gathered his thoughts and answered the easier question first.

I’ve asked Lucretius to not speak with you because he turns into a child when he does. All progress is lost within a moment, he reverts to a spoiled brat.

"He is a child. He’s fourteen, Irsen," snapped Aten.

What am I then? An old man? asked Irsen. The lord was implying their relationship was inappropriate—rich, coming from a Ka who lay with their own siblings. Make yourself scarce, Sumya.

Dressed in a black shawl and scarf as if she was a Ka, the girl had been standing a few paces behind Aten. My apologies, Master Irsen, but I’m not a student anymore, said Sumya, and now Irsen was in a mood as foul as the Ka lord seemed to be, but he chose not to show it for the sake of peace. Irsen had called, and Aten had come—that had to be good enough for the time being.

What news do you have for me, Irsen? asked Aten, breaking the awkward silence Sumya’s disrespectful response had prompted.

The Council will drop the charges, but in return, Lucretius must make an unbreakable oath to never claim to be of Fire lineage, never to claim the Fire throne.

Quirinius, same as his father before him, is a lord, not a king. He has no throne, said Aten, disapproving of the request as Irsen suspected he might. "Lady Diana’s intention in bringing these false charges against my prince has always been transparent. She sees my prince as a threat to her own inept sons. I could have negotiated such a settlement without you, Irsen. Your ask is Ka Sight, a grand ask, so you must deliver better than this."

Ka Lord, said Irsen. The very first words out of your mouth when we first met about his deal were, ‘we do not seek the Fire chair’; are you now telling me that it has changed? At the sharpening of his tone, Stormbird nudged him from the back. It’s fine, Irsen said to his horse, turning to run a hand down his mane. The mount’s nostrils were flared; he’d sensed the unease.

Aten looked incredibly displeased, but when he spoke, his voice was calm. We do not seek it at this time. But the Ka will make no oath to the Council or the House of Fire, unbreakable or otherwise. We decline.

"Aten, I agree that the trial is a farce. But the need for Sight is not my own, but of the realm. I hope at your age and position, you have wisdom enough to see the grand picture. Light of the realm dims over the Ka desert same as the Fire continent, and I need to find where it’s going before all the towers are as dry of Grace as Ka sands are of life."

I know you believe that, Irsen. But at my age and my position, one doesn’t need to be a Ka to gander at what the other lords perceive your claim to be: Furui’s play to appoint her own—you—Guardian of the Realm.

"What’s so horrible about me being the guardian? Does it not make sense that a Captain of Light should investigate the matters of light?"

Aten laughed. He was cold when he wished to be for the sound sent a chill up Irsen’s spine. "I hope that’s a rhetorical question because you can’t be that naïve. You want Sight, the highest spell of Ka magic, and on the back of it, you want to make wild claims and grasp for guardianship. All right, Irsen, I’ll play. But you must first deliver. No trial. My Prince is but a boy and I will not have him subjugated to the scrutiny of the truth seekers. No oath, not of any kind from the Ka. That is final."

Irsen exhaled so as not to be yelling as Aten turned his back to him—this was how he knew the world wasn’t made of bowed crowns and bent knees.

Oh, Aten spoke as he felt around the wet grass with his bamboo cane, walking to the portal Sumya threw, a hallway of the Adua palace visible on the other side. Irsen hoped the Ka lord tripped and fell into the creek on his face. It’s the prince’s birthday today. He turns fifteen. Since you won’t let me see or speak to him, perhaps you can be so kind as to show him affection.

I’m busy, said Irsen to the Aten’s back. It’s the Light Festival tonight.

My condolences, said Aten, prodding a boulder with the cane.

The Governess is not dead, she’s only lost, said Irsen.

If you say so. The blind lord finally made it to the portal and vanished with Sumya who followed him through, but the irritation of his visit lingered on Irsen’s mind long after he was gone.

Chapter two

Forever

In his home, Irsen stretched out his legs by the fire as he flipped through the Spell Codex. Riding through the forest early in the morning he’d caught a chill in his bones. No matter the color of the leaves, it was fall. The kettle hanging suspended above the fire whistled, letting him know the water had boiled. He got up to take the kettle, poured it into a clay pot with tea leaves, and left it to steep.

Lu had been shocked when he first came to his home some moons ago. ‘Why don’t you have a bed? Why is your table so small? You have only one chair! You don’t have servants or guards?’ He used to be horrified by each new thing he learned about the Hikari and its captain.

Whilst he waited for the tea to settle, Irsen sat back by the fire and frowned at the Codex as he’d been all morning. Master Genkei had come by to confirm his scheduling at the school and additionally requested that Irsen illustrate Dragon’s Breath for the Fire children.

‘Why?’ Irsen had asked. ‘It’s not a spell they can ever hope to master.’ The magic was long gone from their bloodline.

‘It’s so they remember that we’re always above them, no matter what type of weapon they mold in their forges.’

Irsen agreed with the sentiment, but the trouble was that fire was a wicked element to bend for those not of the bloodline. Whereas she would bow to Lu as a faithful maiden, willing at his every whim, she would look down upon Irsen as a priestess to a peasant short of coins in his offering. He tossed his book aside, got up to pour himself a cup of tea, and sat at his table where there were now two chairs. He didn’t want to appear weak in front of the future Fire dignitaries and had been thinking about bending light to make it appear as a Dragon’s Breath when Lu came in from outside. The door was open, and it was raining outside, but Lu’s hair was wet because he’d come back from the bathhouse.

He left his shoes by the door, picked up a towel from the closet, and dried his hair.

Did you have a nice bath? asked Irsen. Instead of burning wood at the bathhouse, you can go to the hot springs. They’re particularly nice when it’s raining.

I like the privacy, said Lu. There are naked women at the springs. He shuddered at ‘naked women’ and Irsen laughed. Lu picked up an apple from a basket and moved the other chair to sit next to Irsen. Should we leave soon? He placed his damp head on Irsen’s shoulder as he chewed the apple.

Lu liked Yama because the city had tea houses with rice wine and blue flower dens. Irsen had promised Lu that they’d go to a flower den the next time they were in Yama. He hadn’t meant it to be during the Light Festival, but Irsen could use the distraction. Although he’d only been three years old at the time, he’d never forget the day they told him his mother’s ship was gone. He’d stayed up with Sheyla, lighting a candle at the window and waiting for the governess to find her way home.

Yeah, we’ll leave soon. But I have to stop by the school first.

Why? I thought you didn’t want to teach anymore.

Irsen debated whether there would be a security risk in telling Lu the school had just accepted Fire bloodline students. But they were small children and Lu wasn’t cruel, so he said, "Some Ignis children arrived at the school and Master Genkei wants me to show them Dragon’s Breath. I’m the only master here who can summon it."

Lu sat up, his gold eyes sparkling with excitement. "My brothers are here? I’ve never met them! I can teach them Dragon’s Breath. May I?"

Not your brothers, Lu. Just some distant nephews. Quirinius doesn’t school his children here… how would you know such an advanced spell? Irsen narrowed his eyes.

Because of his bad temper, the Council had banned Lucretius from Hikari schools, and Irsen didn’t imagine the Ka had an in-house Fire master; for one, they were rare. That bloodline had lost its magic when they started building enormous cities and districts of forges. Their weapons of war weren’t magical in nature and could be wielded by the sons of commoners—that was the true Fire might.

My uncle taught it to me, said Lu, casually chewing an apple. Irsen understood why Aten didn’t want him in front of the truth seekers—the prince was too naïve.

You can’t say that to me, said Irsen and watched Lu’s confusion, plain on his face. "As a Hikari Captain, I’m an agent of the High Council. The only way your uncle can cast Fire spell is bound, forbidden by the Council."

Oh, said Lu, sticking his tongue out like a child. Then I don’t know. Because my uncle doesn’t know, and I was prohibited by the Council from furthering my arts.

If you ever face a truth seeker, an appointed woman from the House of Soul, you don’t answer any of her questions, all right? said Irsen. They can see when you lie, so just don’t answer.

My uncle says they can be fooled. You just have to phrase your answer in a truthful way. Lu placed the apple core on the table, and proudly tapped his chest. Ask me a difficult question.

Have you ever killed anyone of name?

No, said Lu with conviction when Irsen knew he’d burned a palace wing full of people. Some were servants—no qualm there—but others had names and Houses.

Why do you believe that’s true? asked Irsen to test Lu.

Because killing requires intent, my uncle says, and I didn’t mean to harm anyone.

True enough, thought Irsen, satisfied with the answer. But since Lu had brought it up, Irsen asked, "Can you show me the Dragon’s Breath?"

Is this a test?

No, Lu. I want to see what it looks like. Show me.

Lu obliged by producing a ball of fire on his palm. With a shape of a blooming rose, it rotated, opening its petals to vent air into itself. Containing it masterfully, Lu kept it small, although Irsen knew the spell had the potential to be devastating. On Lu’s palm, it was turning counter-clockwise, but the Codex said otherwise.

Are you not pivoting wrong? Irsen asked.

No. It spins against the airflow, that’s how it breathes. I’m adjusting the direction to the draft coming through your door.

Irsen pulled Lu’s hand closer, not doubting for a moment his control of it. The spell was small and circular, like a flower of fire, he couldn’t see why it would be called the Dragon’s Breath, so he asked, It grows as it travels, I assume?

"Yes, when I release it, it grows larger till it hits the target. A long-distance weapon, it’s meant to be hurled from hundreds of cubits away. But further is not always better, it has a flash point where it grows too large to sustain itself and dies out with a burst. The optimal distance