“But how…” His words fall away as Nazar shifts his robes back over his left shoulder, then peels back the sleeve from his wrist. There, the warrior band that is all that is left of Nazar’s bond with his own Divh gleams from where it is buried deep in his wrist. The heavy scarring above it pays testament to the long ago attempts to unband him from his Divh. He stares from the band back into Nazar’s face. “So, it’s true. I assumed councilor Miriam was lying to put off Lemille.”
I jolt at the harshness of his tone and at the rudeness of his words.
“Lord Tennet,” Fortiss protests. “Remember yourself. In the Protectorate, a man’s story is his own to reveal in his own time. Nazar is both warrior and priest. He has served the Protectorate in both capacities well, and that’s all we need to know.”
“Lord Tennet’s confusion is valid,” Nazar says, lifting a hand. He smiles a little at Tennet’s confusion. “I confess, I was grateful for the Protectorate practice of asking no questions when I came to this land. Lord Lemille cared only that I was a priest of the Light, able to help tutor his son Merritt in the ways of a warrior and give my blessing when the time came for the transfer of the band. He also enjoyed hearing the stories I could share about the capital city and the excess of the Imperator and his wives. But he didn’t care about my own, personal history.”
My brows shoot up.Wives? The history of the Imperium we were force-fed as children in the Tenth House never actually detailed the personal life of the current Imperator, and most definitely had never included the idea that the man had multiplewives. In fact, now that I thought about it, the amount of recent history that I knew about the Imperium could barely fill a thimble.
“We don’t either.” Fortiss tries again to preserve Nazar’s privacy. “A man is as good as his sword and his service here, Priest Nazar. Miriam has already explained your story. It’s enough.”
“Wise counsel, but unnecessary in this case.” He turns to Tennet, but he speaks to and for all of us, I think, bonding himself to our group as surely as he is bonded to his Divh. “I wasn’t born a priest, Lord Tennet. But I was born into a family that once, long ago, protected the interests of the Imperium. Not all warriors who served in the Great War remained here. Those who sought to advance their interests closer to home accompanied the battle party back into the Hallowed Lands. There they were feted, given high positions in government and sizable allowances by the Imperium in exchange for their willingness to serve, should the need ever arise. Though the money petered out after the first Imperator passed to the Light, the honor remained. Some warriors let their connections lapse, choosing not to pass on their band—and every generation, there were a few more of those. When a new Imperator was crowned, all remaining warriors were called to give an accounting in a great procession of battle Divhs, a three-week celebration to honor the past and pledge allegiance to the future. Eventually, though, the stories of the Protectorate faded, and the Imperator’s councilors grew suspicious of warriors with so much power. Those families who wished to preserve their connection to their Divhs moved farther and farther away from the capital city, coming back only for the grand procession. Some fled into the Protectorate itself, and others, again, let their connection fade away. Eventually, there were only a dozen of us. And then a new successor was born fifty years ago, and to honor hisarrival, the current Imperator decreed the forced unbanding of its remaining warriors. They made a great display of another allowance of wealth settled upon each of the warriors and their families, but that was cold comfort as you may imagine.”
“What a waste,” Tennet mutters, but he looks queasy as he stares at Nazar’s scarred forearm. “I can’t see how you could survive that…or why you’d want to.”
“Many didn’t,” Nazar agrees. “It was a brutal ceremony. The warriors who survived either joined the priesthood or secluded themselves with their families. Many of them migrated to the edges of the hallowed lands, hoping that they would be reunited with their Divh when they returned to the Light. None of us thought anything but death would allow that reconnection.”
“But clearly, you did reconnect. How did it happen? This was during the Tournament of Gold?”
“It doesn’t matter how it happened,” Fortiss interjects, and there’s an edge to his voice I don’t quite understand. “What matters is we have another Divh to aid us. We’ll need every one we can get.”
With a flourish, he throws his own cape over his shoulder, baring his left sleeve. His band clearly lies beneath the silky fabric of his tunic. When he speaks again, there’s an odd timbre to his voice, and a curious compulsion comes over me, making my own band tighten on my arm, and my blood hum with urgency. “We should introduce you, Lord Tennet. And be introduced as well.”
He drops his hand, and the wide plain before us is suddenly…not so empty.
Three enormous Divhs stare back at us.
Chapter 13
Gent! As genuinely happy as I am to see the other Divhs, my heart and soul leap in unison to see my great green-and-silver goliath standing fully upright, looking around with what I now understand to be a nearsightedness that renders all men and women into a blur—except for me. Because of our bond, Gent could find me anywhere. And he would, too. That kind of complete loyalty shakes me. I wonder if any man has ever seen me so clearly, or would fight through worlds to find me.
I pray to the Light that Gent always will.
He’s almost at eye level, the size of three First Houses stacked on top of each other, fully five times the size of my own manor house back in the mountains. Horns sprout from his head and shoulders, and his enormous forearms are slightly too long for the rest of his body, serving to tilt him forward whether he is sitting or standing. His hide is covered in thick green scales now shot with silver, and fingers and toes are tipped with enormous ebony claws.
He sees me, and his delighted howl cry echoes in my brain, though he makes no move toward me. Instead, he looks back,squinting at the two other monsters alongside him, and then up to the sky.
Fortiss’s and Nazar’s Divhs are doing the same, but I take the moment to admire them before trying to see what they’re looking for. Nazar’s Divh is a glorious creature that’s almost as large as Gent. With the white plumed head of an eagle, his body transforms into the powerful figure of a midnight blue winged lion, complete with gold beak and gold-tipped paws. Beside him, the deep blue Szonja levitates easily above the earth, her newly healed wing fluttering in a slow, steady cadence as she snakes her head around, searching the heavens. She’s perhaps two thirds the size of Gent, small for the Divh of a first-blooded and firstborn warrior, but her size is also her strength. She’s incredibly fast, and one of the few full dragons that fought in the Tournament of Gold. There were several winged lizards, and a number of winged snakes, but the sinuous long-limbed, long-tailed beauty in front of me is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
Tennet is clearly surprised by it too. He takes a quick step forward, his mouth agape, and then a rush of wind blows into us, so strong we stumble back. A new monster has joined the conclave of Divhs.
“Light,” whispers Fortiss, and I can’t help but share his surprise. His voice is barely a breath, but it strikes something deep inside me. We’re all staring at the same miracle, but I know, somehow, that Fortiss sees it the way I do—not just as a threat or advantage, but as something sacred. And this Divh is truly sacred.
A second dragon, this one almost the exact replica of Szonja, levitates behind the group, burnished gold even in the half-light of the moon. He’s bigger than Szonja but not by much, still well smaller than Gent and Wrath, Nazar’s beautiful Divh. This new dragon twists and turns on himself with sinuous precision,sliding forward, then beating his powerful wings to keep him apart from the others. Szonja for her part hisses at him, blinks out, then appears again on the other side of Gent, placing the two more familiar Divhs between her and the interloper.
The dragons posture like kings, and I feel the same tension humming between Fortiss and Tennet. They aren’t enemies—at least not yet—but there’s something primal rising here, visceral and real, a storm spinning up all around us.
For the moment, I’m in the center of that storm…but I’m not at its mercy.
At least not yet.
Nazar speaks first. “There’s nothing in the annals of the houses that indicates the Twelfth House Divh is a golden dragon. When did the shift occur?”
Tennet grimaces. “When I was banded a year ago. Before, our Divh was a falcon, still golden, but not scaled and tailed. My father took it as a sign that our fortunes were improving, but also as a warning that our fortunes needed to improve. Another reason why we weren’t in any hurry to introduce our Divh to anyone.”
He swings around to glare at Fortiss. “And I wasn’t planning on doing so tonight, for the record. How is it you summoned all our Divhs so easily?”
“I didn’t,” Fortiss says, but too quickly, I think. I think again about his deep study of Rihad’s books and wonder just how far down that path he has gone. “I asked for the introduction, and either you or your Divh was willing to go through with it. Though mine is somewhat less sure, as it turns out.”
