Arbiter (The Arbiter Chronicles Book 1) (32 page)

Lyan felt as though time were standing still, as though every creature in the Realm were holding their collective breaths. The Queen stood before her, resplendent in colorful robes that reflected their own inner light. The light was the only bright spot in the large cavernous hall, so deep and dark that the lights of Rielen through the windows seemed like stars in the distant sky. The Queen was speaking, her voice like music. It filled the room, like her light. In her presence, Lyan found that she couldn't speak, not because the Queen was so radiant, which she was, but because from her wrists and ankles extended faint, silvered chains. They draped over her, weighing her down and rattling as she moved, with the sound of tinkling bells.

“Do you understand?” she asked. “This is the difference between us, Lyan Arrowborn—we who are bound and you who are free. For our path, from the moment we are born, is set in stone. Our choices mean little. Our Sources do not change. But you, so ephemeral, so fleeting, are defined by the choices you make, and the world around you feels the effect...”

Rae sighed, closing the book. She let it rest in her lap, rubbing at her tired eyes. Outside, the night was dark, the moon barely even present in the sky. The new moon had come and gone, and she read by her own light, a bright orb of golden light hovering over her shoulder and illuminating the book in her hands. She had been reading for hours, and was almost done with it. All that was left was to read the ending. But she couldn't bring herself to do that. What did Lyan choose in the end? Did she become Arbiter, or did she abandon her title, giving it to someone else?

She had a feeling she knew the answer, and that reading it wouldn't do much to help her make a decision of her own.

Cathel would make a better Arbiter than me...
she thought, tracing her finger slowly down the book's spine.
He wouldn't be so indecisive.

Or would he? It was difficult to tell. Cathel did seem conflicted by some of the choices he had made in the past. But no...he didn't regret them. He accepted them for what they were and continued to forge ahead, making his own way. She envied him for that, probably more than he knew.

They deserve better.

Cathel's words came back to her.

They don't have better. They have me.

Her finger moved over the book's cover, tracing over the raised text of the title.
Arbiter's Choice.

We are defined by the choices we make...

Rae took a deep breath, setting the book aside. She stared across from her, at the infirmary's sole clock. It was late. She should sleep.

But she already knew without trying that that would be a futile endeavor. Sleep wasn't coming tonight.

She hesitated, her hands closing around the blankets. Rae tightened her grip on them and made her decision. She pushed them off of herself, sliding out of bed and planting her feet firmly on the tired floor. Rae rose, bracing herself against the wall for support, before the feeling returned to her body. She slowly straightened up until she was able to bear her own weight, walking over to the foot of her bed.

Everything she had been wearing when she first arrived at the infirmary had been placed there, no doubt by Maira herself, along with some of the things she had requested from her quarters. Everything, including her sword.

Her robe slipped from her shoulders.

Rae dressed as quickly as she could manage in the faint light, slipping on her shirt and a pair of pants and lacing up her boots. She belted her sword to her side, brushing her hair and tying it back with a leather strap. As she dressed, she unfolded the mental awareness Elrithea had gifted her with, seeking out any presences in the area. The hallway was empty. There was no sign of any visitors or healers, nor was their any sign of Cienn or the High Lord.

Good enough.

Rae straightened up, resting one hand on the hilt of her sword. She ignored her own weakness for the moment, striding towards the door.

The halls of the palace were empty at this time of night, lit only by the occasional torch that lined the walls. Rae walked with Larin hovering over her shoulder, the little wisp lighting her way as she walked the now-familiar path to the practice room. She set Larin to keep watch by the door, the wisp’s light illuminating the room just enough so that she could see. Rae took a deep breath, grasping the hilt of her sword her shaky hands. She drew it, closing her eyes and tightening her grip. Rae breathed in, taking in the feeling of the blade in her hands, taking in its weight and the feeling of Berais's castle, the lives and presences that intertwined inside of it. She let it soothe away her own worries, her own frustrations, throwing herself into her task.

Rae opened her eyes, and her hands stopped shaking.

She went through the basic practice drills that Selde had taught her, her sword swinging through the empty air of the chamber as she drilled through practice strikes and blocks, her mind filling the gaps with imaginary opponents. As she became more comfortable with the routine, her thoughts began to drift, going from the dull ache in her shoulders to Cienn’s words, Cathel's promises, Berais’s task, and her own decision.

Decision, she realized, stabbing a point in the air with marked frustration. She blinked sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes, taking a deep breath and swinging her sword again.

What was it that she had to decide? To be Arbiter or not?

No. No, it ran deeper than that.

She wasn't truly worried about becoming the Arbiter. She never had been. It was always what came with it that frightened her.

The Reaper. At the core of her fear, it was always the Reaper.

Her mind held onto that scene, onto the sight of the Reaper by the window, his scythe gleaming in non-existent light, of his eyes, of his smirk. That goddamned twisted smirk.

She could hardly remember a time when she hadn't been afraid of the Reaper. She knew that a time like that existed, after all, she had just enough memories of her parents and happy carefree childhood days for their loss to be felt, but those things were almost meaningless to her. It had always been like she was looking at a painting, a movie, at someone else's life.

That girl hadn't been her. The girl who could smile and laugh and cry in her mother's arms was nothing like the twisted creature that had emerged out of the Reaper's shadow. Growing up, she had always thought like that. It was like the Rae that was left was a shade of the real thing—the real thing had died that day the Reaper took her parents.

She stepped forward, swinging her sword in a downward slash with a little more force than was needed.

And she wasn't alone.

Her eyes drifted to Alcian's crescent marks on her hand, shining faintly Larin's light.

She wasn't the only twisted thing that had sprouted in the Reaper's wake.

He had hurt them all.

Mika. Cathel. Alcian. Ania. Nathan. Her family. Hallie.

He had hurt them all.

If it wasn't for him, Mika would have a brother. If it wasn't for him, Cathel wouldn't be out traversing the ends of the earth helping her.

And if it wasn't for him, she...

She would have been
whole.

A lunge this time, her dark hair falling like a rope behind her. Her sword point shook, her eyes shining with a sudden rush of anger. She didn't think she had enough left in her for anger or hatred anymore. But it looked like every time she thought she had been beaten, she could find a spark inside of her—something that didn't want to roll over and die. Not for the Reaper. Not for anyone.

Her anger flared. And for the first time in a long time, Rae felt no fear. Instead, she looked at the world with a sudden hard-edged clarity, several things suddenly snapping back into focus.

She spun around, lashing out at an imaginary opponent with a shout that echoed through the practice chamber. Her lungs burned. Why was she afraid? What could he do? Kill her? She was already as good as dead. A quarter of a year had passed since she arrived in the Twilight Realm. If she didn't start moving soon, she would be dead anyway. And if she didn't start moving soon, there would be no one left to avenge them.

Another spin, another shout. The blade veered too far to the right, nearly upsetting her balance. She quickly righted herself, her eyes wide as she pulled back.

No one left to avenge Ania or Alcian. No one left to protect Cathel and Mika. No one left to remember the people that had died, the people he had taken. No one left to tell their stories.

No one left to make a Ruling.

She stepped forward, giving the air a final stab before freezing in place. Now that she had returned to her senses, she realized that she was breathing hard, her clothes soaked with sweat, and her shoulders and arms burning dully. She took in the silence of the room, gulping down huge breaths of air before it finally struck her that she wasn’t alone.

It was Larin that alerted her in the end. The wisp’s soft light had flared into a brighter illumination, the signal for alarm—or at least it would have been, if Rae could be bothered to pay attention to it. She straightened up, wiping the sweat from her brow with her forehead and letting her sword fall to her side as her eyes fixed on her unexpected visitor. A moment of tense silence passed as the two regarded each other, before Rae relented, lowering her eyes.

“High Lord Berais,” she said, inclining her head in a gesture that was almost a bow. He gave her a polite nod in response.

“Arbiter.”

As an experiment, she slowly lowered her mental barriers, opening herself up to his presence. She felt nothing—certainly nothing of the brilliant presence she had associated with High Lord Berais. Cienn was right. He was showing himself to her on purpose, so that she would always be able to find him. She quickly raised her barriers again, keeping her expression composed. Her years of experience with the Reaper had taught her how to keep her feelings shuttered behind her face.

“You should be in bed,” commented Berais. “I don't believe my healers have released you from the infirmary.”

“They haven't,” said Rae. “I took the liberty of releasing myself.” She sheathed her practice sword, trying to disguise the fact that her arms were trembling. Her body burned, both from the exertion and from the sudden strength and force of her decision. Her
choice
, she realized. How could she think that she could ever do anything less?

Berais noticed too. His eyes met hers, studying her carefully. “I see something has changed,” he said.

“Yes,” said Rae. “I've been considering many things.”

“And?”

She felt strong. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt like she was capable of doing this. Like she could protect them. The feeling scared her. A part of her mind warned her, telling her that the fall would only be that much more painful. But she didn't want to do it anymore. She was tired of giving up, tired of this constant cycle.

One last time. She had nothing left to lose.

“I've made my decision,” she said.

Berais stared at her, his gray eyes leveled on her as if measuring her. At length, he took a step back, placing one hand on his sword. “Then nothing else needs to be said,” he said.

Rae nodded, drawing her sword and holding it tightly in her hands. The High Lord drew his sword, holding it in front of her as well and watching her carefully.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded once. Yes.

Without waiting for him to respond, Rae charged forward, her blade sliding alongside his to keep it in check as she aimed straight for his chest. Berais sidestepped her blow, his own sword rushing towards hers to swipe it out of her hands. This time, Rae was ready. She took a step back, her heart thudding in her chest as Berais’s powerful blow moved within inches of her face. She gripped her sword tightly, raising it over her head and rushing towards him.

He moved, removing himself from the path of her blade. Rae stumbled forward, led by the momentum of her own sword, as Berais turned, his blade in hand.

Silence filled the practice room again, broken only by Rae’s breathing. After a moment, she lifted her head, looking around. The High Lord stood beside her, his expression impassive as he pointed his blade at her neck. Their eyes met, his stern, hers defiant.

And light flared up from beneath them, beautiful, radiant, and overwhelming.

The light twisted into a coil, striking him in the center of his breastplate. The clang of metal sounded through the practice room, and Rae took a step back, sheathing her sword.

“One strike,” she said, meeting Berais's eyes as the light faded.

Berais frowned at her, but sheathed his sword as well. “That was not a strike with the sword,” he said.

“It was,” said Rae. “It was my sword. My weapon. As Arbiter.”

Berais stared at her for a long while, sizing her up. Rae kept her chin up, enduring his scrutiny. After a few long moments, he nodded.

“Come with me,” he said, turning towards the door. “There is something I want you to see.”

She hurried to follow as he walked towards the door, catching up with him. The two of them left the room, walking down the long palace halls and into the night.