The Second Stone by L. L. Stephens

Author:L. L. Stephens
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: epic fantasy, political fantasy
Publisher: Forest Path Books
Published: 2023-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

Of all the celebration and ceremony of the Coming, Dorilian most disliked Third Day. At least on First Day he could feast upon the finest creations of the best cooks to be found in his corner of the Triempery. On Second Day he could appreciate the artistry and poetry of that year’s production of the Illumination, after which he would mercifully leave before the music and clamor ate away at his brain. But Third Day…

Third Day meant walking barefoot on a path of icy, albeit swept smooth, stone. It meant being cold and feeling the bite of a chill spring predawn. It meant standing in front of a multitude of his subjects and foreign dignitaries while wearing next to nothing, a state of vulnerability that rendered him unhappy and paranoid and angry at being that way. At least his singular status as Hierarch permitted him to wear the Rill Stone—the device held a living piece of Derlon, whose sacred birth they were celebrating.

The Rill Stone, however, did not enable Dorilian to translocate or cast a defensive shield. He could use it only to collect and hold Rill energy, though he had not yet tested the full limit of how much. Wielding Rill energy presented great risk.

His uncle Delos had burned his body beyond repair by summoning Rill energy through one of the greater enhancers.

Dorilian had mastered his gifts well, but he still needed to be careful and not take unnecessary chances.

“Dor? Are we ready?”

He looked up. He and his retinue occupied a courtyard attached to Sordan’s Citadel, the massive struts and arches of which possessed enough warmth and residual arcane brightness to provide a comfortable space in which to wait. Levyathan stood before him clad in a two-panel white chiton such as every participant in the mountaintop ceremony would wear. Fahme, standing nearer the doors that would lead onto the road, had bound back her hair and looked more eager to begin as she talked with Tiflan and his two charges: Handurin and that Kheld of his.

Dorilian frowned. He should not allow the Kheld. Strictly speaking, no Kheld could possibly have attended the first Consecration. Then again, neither could just about any person but a Leur or an Aryati—and, as far as Dorilian knew, only he and Levyathan fit those criteria.

He grimaced. “Almost.” The Sages would have told him if he risked missing the dawnbreak.

Levyathan glanced back at where Tiflan was speaking with Handurin. “He is uncertain about us.”

“Handurin? He is uncertain about me.”

“Mostly about you. He senses your ambivalence.”

Dorilian barely smothered a laugh. Levyathan always knew where truth would be found. “Perhaps he does.”

“And so does everyone else.” Narrow trees and hanging curtains of flowering vines gathered at the base of the graceful arches at Levyathan’s back. He looked so young, very much a child, and called to mind the ancestral statue of the boy-Hierarch Dares. Levyathan took a seat on the bench beside Dorilian. “What will it take to put this uncertainty behind you?”

How unusual. Lev knew better than to advocate for someone with whom Dorilian might have… issues.

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