Chapter 23.5:

  “The Nonta,” Eli continued gently, “are not just one group or clan. They are many, and different. Some are tall, some short, some lighter and some dark. Most Nonta groups do not stay long in one place. They shift with the lands when the land itself moves.” Noticing her gaze Eli paused to let Aria ask her question. He felt like he already knew, but recent lessons of his own made him pause.

  “The land moves?” It was the inquiry he had expected, and he nodded in response, though his hand waggled side to side.

  “It is not like the trees stand up and walk away,” he said with a smile, trying to explain he true phenomena that made the Contested Lands nearly impossible to colonize. “It is the mana that shifts. Oases appear, vanish, reappear hundreds of miles away. Beasts migrate in waves. Places that have been green for years suddenly dry up and become cold, or too hot.

  “The Nonta have learned how to read the lands. Some people call them wanderers, but they are not. It is not random where they go.” He tapped his temple. “They do something that the people who went to conquer would not. They adapt. When things change, and it is time to move on, they move. When it is okay to stay, they stay. They move with the world; they do not demand the Land adapts to them.”

  Aria blinked slowly. She didn’t fully grasp the meaning, but she felt his words settle warmly, none the less.

  “So, there was all this land, and only these small groups of people using it. When our empire and other powers went to explore it decided they wanted it. The houses sent blades and mages, banners and force. For years they fought the people, the beasts, the land itself.” Eli shook his head.

  “Did it work?” Aria asked.

  “Nope,” Eli said, unable to hide his grin. “They could not defeat the land, they could not overpower the beasts, and the people were not like any other group. The Nonta did not need walls to hide behind. All they needed was time, and the world pushed the foreign powers out for them.”

  He and Aria grinned silly smiles at the image that evoked.

  “What happened then?” Aria asked.

  “Well, after so long the powers gave up. Their people were tired; their money was spent. It became a silly thing to do. Send all your strong people to die, and for what? You can only fail so many times before the other noble houses laugh at you.”

  “But the merchants were much more clever. They did not go to fight, they went to earn. They traded water for safe passage, offered deals for guides rights, bought land rights nobody else could hold or enforce, and built freeholds - these are little towns with no real ‘formal’ government.” At Aria’s look he clarified. “No kings, no emperors, no blood titles.” He waved his hand.

  “What about the Nonta?”

  “They were very clever. They talked and they traded, but they did it eye-to-eye, not from their knees.

  He reached over to gently tug a stray curl that had flopped near her ear.

  “Over time, powers like the Empire called the region the ‘Contested Lands.’ It is not really a name that fits though. There is no true contest. However, always keep in mind that powerful people do not like to admit when they are powerless. They could not control it the land, so they do not call it Nonta land, or give it its own name. No, they say it is ‘contested’, but contested with who?

  “The Nonta walk where they please. They do not follow Canilla law, or any rules they don’t make. They go where they want, when they want. They do not even force their young to use an awakening stone, and still, they have as many awakened as we do.”

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  He gave her a small smile. It was the reason so many feared the Nonta people and even more wanted them. They had power without forcing or crippling their people. They had land and resources without subjugation. They were no saints, but they lived in harmony and were richer for it.

  “The Contested Lands have their own rifts,” Eli said, his voice softening again. “Their own beasts. Their own magic. They have their own magic, and their own kinds of mages and blades. They call them spiritualists, sorcerers, and aura masters.”

  “That sounds…”

  “Different?” he supplied. “A little strange?”

  Aria nodded.

  “It is,” Eli agreed. “But different is not always bad. They are not weak. Also, just because most of them live in the Lands does not mean they cannot come to the Empire. Many Nonta live here now, like Kara or the Mme. Some join us, some only trade, some settle, they are just like any other people, they are just people who do not really belong to Canilla.

  “Many families who feel they have been wronged by the Empire simply return to the Lands. Do you know what the Empire does?” Eli asked.

  Aria tilted her head. “What?”

  “Pretends not to notice,” he said with a smirk. “The powers of the continent need them for the economy.”

  “Economy,” Aria shivered, and Eli snickered.

  Eli lowered his voice.

  “The story of the lands is a story about power. About the natural order. Honestly, most of this” Eli waved a hand over the leatherbound historical tome, is written by people who want you to think they are powerful. They want you to believe the world is the way it is because it must be.

  “The Contested Lands prove something very important. That the world only stays the way it is because people agree to it or are forced into it to. What happened when people who do not agree cannot be forced?

  “The Nonta were not fighters. Yes, they could fight, but they did not leave their lands to do this. They did not try and grab power, but they did not agree to bow.”

  He reached over and gently squeezed her hand.

  “That is true power. Power that does not need to force or to be loud or hurt to be real.”

  Eli and Aria looked at each other before he smiled and tapped on the cover of the bound volume.

  “In the end the Contested Lands still belong to its people. People like your mother?”

  “I think so,” Asia confirmed.

  Eli smiled softly.

  “Will you tell me more tomorrow?” she asked.

  “I would like that,” Eli murmured. “History makes a good bedtime story, I think.”

  As the night moved forward, Eli continued to speak about the Lands and their people – sometimes quoting from memory, sometimes paraphrasing or elucidating. Aria listened, wide eyes slowly drooping. Her head began easing down, sinking against his chest as she grew comfortable. He kept reading. He spoke of caravans linking trade routes, of families bound by necessity and community more than blood, of freeholds that rose and fell with the seasons.

  Her breathing slowed. The mug on the table cooled, untouched.

  Eventually Eli stopped speaking. He gestured to the servant to bring another attendant and have them move Aria to the guest room. While he waited, he adjusted her nightgown. The fabric at the collar has slipped as she shifted in sleep. Eli set to adjusting it and froze mid motion.

  Stripes cut across her back. There, visible in the bright glow of the lamps and in stark contrast against her delicate skin, dark welts were visible. These were not just some half-faded lines. Instead, Eli could see both old scars and fresh marks revealed in the lamplight.

  A heat surged through him, sharp and consuming. Rage flooded every nerve, so strong he feared his body might fissure beneath it. His breath caught, fists clenched, vision narrowed down to a focused point. Mana flooded him, primed and ready for the smallest thought. Ready to unleash itself as he took action. Then he felt Aria shift against him and abruptly clarity returned.

  No.

  He forced himself still. Reached deep, pulled hard on the wellspring of power within him. Mana flared, tangled with the chaos boiling in his chest. Slowly, painfully, he leached away the anger, forced the emotions into a harmless weave and threaded the mass into ordered tendrils which he then used to expand and reinforce his channels as a whole.

  As he worked, he meditated, allowing his magic to leach away the emotions threatening to boil over within him. His breath steadied. His thoughts cleared. Empathy magic sparked alive in his channels for the first time in this timeline. He felt his body realign, chemical fury drained, leaving behind only the cool, sharp rationality he required.

  He looked at Aria, her small, curled form, resting against him, completely oblivious to the inferno he had just tamed as it raged through his body, magic and mind.

  Carefully, he slid out from under her and lifted her in his arms. He sent a silent apology to the attendant, but he had needed to do something. So, he carried her to his bed, laying her gently on one side before pulling the blankets close around her.

  Then he sat at his desk, hands still, mind turning. He would have his duel with Kara soon, once that was over, it would be time to act once again. He promised himself he would protect her better this time around. Until the bond was in place there was little he could yet do, but it was only a matter of time.