Doraan’s heart pounded in his chest. Cormac had never spoken to Forcina that way. He always treated her like a delicate flower made of glass, careful not to make her crack, or far worse, shatter. The hatred-filled gaze she cast upon Cormac resembled what Doraan imagined death incarnate would look like. Her eyes were painted a terrifying shade of gray-blue—dark enough to be mistaken for black—and they bore into Cormac with an icy resolve as if she might reach into his soul and consume him.
“It must be killing you to have missed all these years with your family, Cormac.” She spat his name as if it were the worst thing that had ever come from her mouth, taking a step closer until the tip of his pistol was pressed into the flesh between her eyes. “Not able to see them grow into adulthood, get married, and have children of their own.”
Cormac growled, a low rumbling hum that made Doraan flinch from its ferocity as he cocked his gun.
“Oh, look who’s finally fighting back after all this time. I must say I do like this side of you, Cormac. Where have you been hiding it?”
“Right under your ugly nose,” he said, just as he pulled the trigger. The shot rang out through the quiet of the snow storm, echoing around them, but the bullet missed its mark. Forcina was fast— able to manipulate the wind to propel herself at unnatural speeds. They had never been able to land a shot on her, and not for lack of trying.
“Good try, old man. I commend you for actually getting close for once.”
Cormac’s nostrils flared as both he and Doraan spun to find Forcina standing in the middle of the main deck. She pulled her hood to the side, revealing where the bullet had pierced the fabric just beside her Temple.
Cormac wasted no time angling his pistol at her again, but before he could pull the trigger, Kamira sprinted up from the hull and froze on the last step when she spotted Forcina.
Forcina’s brow creased as she turned round to see who had stumbled up behind her. “Who is…” she began, but Cormac gave her no time to finish as he took his shot once more and, for the first time in ten years, the bullet pierced through flesh. Red blood sprayed out onto the icy wooden boards of the deck, the droplets freezing upon impact.
She shrieked, spinning back around and gripping her shoulder where blood seeped between her fingers. Her chest rose and fell with stilted breaths, and she slumped forward, pinning Cormac with her feral gaze. She bared her teeth, growling at him, and took a hitched step forward.
Cormac remained stoic as he reached over and pulled a pistol from Doraan’s hip, immediately firing on Forcina a third time. She roared in frustration, stopping the bullet with a gust of wind before disappearing in a haze of snow and fog.
“Skies above,” Kamira breathed, eyes wide. “Was that Forcina?”
“Yes,” Cormac said, as Doraan stared at the spot where Forcina’s blood still lay, a frozen red puddle upon the deck. “And we’ve just made her very angry. We have to get to Neilmaar, yesterday.”
20
Kamira
Anendlesslandscapeofsprawling rural hills lay before them. They had finally made it to Neilmaar.
Cormac had docked the ship on the north side of the hills, which meant Kamira had quite the trek ahead of her. The plan was for her to row one of the boats to the closest shore, which just so happened to be the furthest northern piece of beach, sandwiched between the bubbling Kryystal Cove and the roiling Estdar Sea, before taking the long hike over the verdant hills to the city.
At least they had made it to this point quickly. In less than two weeks, theCursed Soulmade it from the boiling beaches of Aksahri to the frigid peak of the Uskdar Sea. Kamira was to thank for this, of course. She pushed the ship—probably quicker than she should have—guiding it as it sliced through the icy waves with fluid ease. As they sailed, she would reach out to sense any frozen barriers obstructing their path and shatter them into millions of shimmering pieces. She was able to get them to their current location a full three days ahead of schedule, which definitely hadn’t gone unnoticed by the crew. She was worried she might have misinterpreted Cormac’s insistence in getting to Neilmaar as fast as possible, but he reassured her countless times that she was doing good, and he would take care of the crew. He kept good on his promise because by the time they made it to this spot, the crew were as excited and carefree as could be, ready for Kamira to go ashore. She just hoped she wouldn’t let them down.
The entire crew had been on edge since Forcina’s visit. Everyone was jumpy, anxious that she could show up at any moment and enact her wrath upon them for what transpired all those nights ago. Doraan had spent that night scrubbing away the evidence of Cormac’s actions—as if getting rid of the blood meant it had never happened.
Kamira gazed at the peaks of the hills shimmering in the morning light, mesmerized by the grass swaying in the swift breeze. Beyond those verdurous peaks, she knew the city would be gleaming, and she couldn’t wait to see it in all its glory.
She had never been to Neilmaar, but her brother often spoke of its wealth and beauty. Some of the richest men in the realm lived in the city. It was also the oldest city in all of Emmoria, containing knowledge of the Empire that stretched back thousands of years to the first inhabitants of the realm.
Adonis had also told her that many who lived here still worshiped the gods of old—the very gods that the Brothers of the Spring believed bestowed the Sorcerers’ their powers. It made sense that the Brothers would choose this city as their home.
There wasn’t much about the old gods in the history books back in Torheim or even in Aksahri. They had been long forgotten by most of the realm. The only reason she knew of them was because of her brother. Supposedly, they were powerful beings who lived in the sky, and it was believed that one of these gods created them all, both Gifted and Ungifted.
Kamira didn’t quite understand how there could be strange beings that lived in the sky, so powerful that they created life and an entire world all on their own. But who was she to judge what others believed? She had never seen the need to believe in anything but herself, really. She believed in what she saw around her—the sea, the forests, the mountains, the sky, and all the living things in the realm. Many believed that the gods would grant them eternal life after death if they prayed to them, offering up gifts and sacrifices. A life by their side, reborn as a god themselves. Kamira honestly didn’t really care what happened after life. She was content to live in the moment.
Even the Brothers of the Spring didn’t make much sense to her, although their beliefs made a whole lot more sense than the existence of gods. The Brothers believed first in the Spring of Zjanoak and its supernatural waters, but ultimately they believed in the power of knowledge.
Their doctrine was created on the idea that all things followed the Pyramid of Koruum. The pyramid consisted of four tiers, the lowest tier being life. If you are given life, you must feed it–taking care of yourself and surviving–treating all other life with respect. This was followed by the tier of earth.
Just as all people were given life, so was the earth. It provided all beings a place to live, and it must be taken care of, and one must use it to fully understand life itself and how to further it. The third tier was synergy. This involved combining one's own essence with all those around them, becoming one with all living things, and only then could one understand the true meaning of life.
The fourth and final tier, topping off the pyramid. was ascension. Those who had mastered the first three tiers could ascend, discovering the ultimate knowledge of the world by bathing in the Spring and drinking its waters, grounding them in the world and binding their being to the elements around them to connect with life itself. Ascension and the waters of the Spring granted them powers that surpassed the Sorcerers of Emmoria, giving them the ultimate knowledge of the old gods.
Or so the legend went.
The entire thing sounded oddly like how the early Ungifted lived. When they first came to Emmoria, they practically worshiped the Elementalists, thinking that if they did strange things like drink the blood of a Gifted, or sleep with one, they would gain their knowledge and abilities and become just as powerful. History always seemed to repeat itself in one form or another. That thought brought her back to the reality of the Emerald King and the impending war.
