Once, Lizzan had looked at him the same way, and fighting with her had tied painful knots in his heart. It had been one of the few arguments they’d ever had, though her stance had been that a Kothan soldier’s duty and honor was to protect both her people and her home. With her life, if necessary. So he’d asked her how many soldiers and people the Destroyer would have to kill before sinking the island became an option. There she’d finally conceded, but said that it should be the last option—and not the first option, as Aerax had believed.
He didn’t believe it anymore. Now, destroying Koth was the only option. And his heart twisted into knots again, because although Lizzan claimed to have faith in him and his purpose, he hadn’t told her the extent of it. She might still think him a villain when he was done.
But now, it was difficult to tell what she thought. Her eyes were fixed on the road ahead, as if ignoring all that was said behind her.
As Aerax would have liked to do, when Seri asked Lady Junica, “How does Varrin protect the island? I have not heard his story.”
For the best, Aerax thought, as it was mostly lies. Yet no happier topic could Seri have struck for most Kothans—especially Lady Junica, who likely thought Aerax also needed the reminder of where he’d come from. Or a lesson.
Yet it was Tyzen who responded first, his moonstone eyes casting an unreadable glance in Aerax’s direction. “In the story I have heard, Varrin is a monster.”
“A monster?” Lady Junica laughed, as if the idea was too preposterous to even offend. “It was he who saved all the world when he exposed Enam’s eye.”
Kelir frowned and shook his head. “That was silver-fingered Rani and Nemek.”
“It was they who performed that task,” Lady Junica said. “But it was at Varrin’s request that they did it.” She looked to Seri again. “Varrin was born in the truly ancient times—when the sun god still ruled unchecked, scorching the earth with his fiery light and scouring the skies with his unending storms. To escape Enam’s fury, all living things hid in caves by day, and the only relief they knew was during the night and under his sister Vela’s silver light—for even in the mountains and in the far north, there was no ice or snow or cold. And Varrin was still a child when Enam forced himself on Vela and filled the heavens with her screams. So when her twins, Justice and Law, were born—”
“We have seen where she gave birth to them,” Seri broke in, wide eyed. “We have been through the labyrinth dug out by her fingernails as she labored.”
“Near Blackmoor?” Lady Junica sounded no less impressed than Seri. “Was it a wondrous place?”
The girl nodded. “Though lonesome and bleak, with the bones of those who could not find their way through strewn over the ground. And I was nearly killed by a leatherwing with a beak as long as a spear. They nest in the cliffs and then dive for their prey.”
Kelir grunted. “It did not even come near to you.”
“I’m fairly certain it did,” said Preter. “I felt the wind it made as it passed over her head.”
“It came near enough that I saw the vile gleam in its reptilian eye,” Tyzen agreed, “which was close enough to skewer her. And now we must apologize to Lady Junica for interrupting her tale.”
“No need for apologies,” she said, laughing. “I had the brief thought of seeing the labyrinth for myself, but if there are leatherwings that dive at my head, I will be content with descriptions of it.”
Seri nodded solemnly. “Painful her labor must have been to scratch such deep furrows in the earth.”
“As every birth is painful,” said Lady Junica with a faint, melancholy smile. “And it is said the bloodied waters of her womb were still streaming down her legs when Vela flew with Justice and Law into the heavens, and together they imprisoned Enam within the sun, using Nemek’s hair to bind him. So fully did they wrap him in those unbreakable braids that not even a sliver of his burning light escaped, and all the world rejoiced that the scorching of the earth had ended. Beneath Vela’s gentle silver gaze they came out of their caves and began to build their cities—and Koth was the finest of all.”