Mortal Gods (Mantles of Power Book 2)

by Benjamin Medrano

  Wincing, Kitania handed it quickly back and took the second one. That one was much better, and she took a step back to give it a few practice swings. It had an excellent balance, and she nearly got the butt caught in her tail in her distraction. She handed it over to take the third, and while it wasn’t as poorly balanced as the first, it was definitely worse than the second. She handed it back and took the second glaive again, nodding slightly.

  “It isn’t the best I’ve used, but this one will suffice, I think,” Kitania said, taking a step back and giving the glaive another practice twirl, using her body as a fulcrum around which to swing the glaive. It almost startled her how easy it was to wield, after so many years using a sword. The only problem with using a glaive, or cloudpiercer, was that she lacked the wings which most users possessed, so Kitania couldn’t use the full training that Anna had given her. That was why she’d developed her own version of the martial art, one which didn’t rely on being able to fly.

  The sergeant was frowning at Kitania, looking almost confused, and she smiled at him as she brought the glaive to a stop, ignoring several skeptical looks as she nodded, her mood improved at the thought of Anna. “I may be out of practice, but the best way to recover is to just jump into things, I think. So, who do you want me to fight?”

  Grunting softly, the sergeant nodded to a soldier nearby, one who was in the padding that the elves used to protect against blows. The man blinked, and the sergeant scowled as he barked. “What, do you need an engraved invitation? Come on, show her what you’re made of!”

  “Yes, Sarge!” the man replied, and he quickly took a position opposite Kitania, while others stood back, including the sergeant.

  Looking between them, the sergeant spoke sourly. “Now then. No head blows, no groin shots, and try not to break anything on either of you. We don’t have the ability to regenerate, so don’t try to do lasting damage.”

  “Right, I can do that,” Kitania agreed, smiling slightly. At least the man was wearing a helmet, in case she couldn’t hold back perfectly. The man nodded as well, preparing his shield and sword.

  “Alright… begin!” the sergeant barked, and he stood back.

  Kitania whipped around her glaive and smiled as the man charged toward her, obviously trying to get inside her reach. Her glaive hit his shield, staggering the man for just a moment, long enough for her to take the recoil and spin, the butt sweeping the man’s feet from under him before he could react.

  The soldier hit the ground with a grunt, obviously stunned, and the next moment she had her practice glaive at his throat. Kitania smiled at him as she calmly asked, feeling slightly gleeful now. It’d been too long since she’d wielded a polearm. “Care to try again? Preferably without underestimating me, this time.”

  “That… is unusual,” Alserah murmured, watching as Kitania defeated her tenth opponent.

  The first one hadn’t proven much of a challenge, but the demon had quickly improved still more, while her opponents learned from the defeat of their fellow soldiers. She’d lost three times already, but the demon had quickly gotten back up and tried again, learning at least as fast as the soldiers did.

  What Alserah hadn’t expected was the style that Kitania used. The glaive was odd enough as it was, but it was the way Kitania moved that truly drew her eye. She used her glaive to pole vault, as a counterbalance to move more quickly, and as part of a beautiful, spinning dance of death. It reminded Alserah of some of the styles she’d seen angels use, and it brought to mind a similar scene from the Siege of Rosken.

  That time, the battle had been ongoing, and it was just before Alserah and the others had joined what proved to be the final assault on the demon-held fortress. She only barely recalled seeing a figure using what had looked like an angelic cloudpiercer to fend off the mortals surging up over the walls. The figure had worn midnight blue armor, as Alserah recalled, and while the style meant that she couldn’t hold close formation with allies, the defender hadn’t needed to.

  “She was telling the truth, it seems,” Alserah murmured, slowly nodding to herself. She hadn’t entirely believed Kitania’s claim that she’d been on Rosken’s central wall, but the fighting style wasn’t something she could fake. Besides, the demon couldn’t know that Alserah had seen her and remembered it, or that she’d see it now.

  “A riddle, indeed,” Alserah murmured, then shook her head and turned away. “No matter; what comes, comes. I’ll deal with it when I must.”

  She didn’t bother watching further. Either way, even if the combats helped Kitania grow more skilled, they’d also help the soldiers. In the end, that made it worth allowing the demon to practice. Unless she managed to hurt someone, that was.

  Chapter 7

  “Eziel is dead, Sorm,” Haral said, her voice flat with anger, though she wasn’t upset with him.

  The angel looked up from his pack and frowned as he looked back at her. “Is she? I… find that startling. She was rather skilled, as I recall.”

  “That’s what you said. However, due to the lack of word about their task, I had one of our magi perform divinations,” Haral said, her voice grim. “Of the sixteen, one is accounted for, because she brought back the most sensitive gear when Eziel discovered that Roselynn wasn’t in the palace, but was near Hellmount instead. Six more are dead, including Eziel, and the remainder are alive and well. The mage who was to contact us when they retreated is among the dead, and while their exact location is impossible to narrow down from this far away, they aren’t near Hellmount. Worse, both Isalla and Roselynn are alive and well.”

  “Archangel tears,” Sorm cursed, his frown growing deeper. “Something must have happened outside our expectations. Either they ran into a hazard that could kill six of them, which doesn’t seem likely from what I’ve heard, or the defenders were a lot tougher than Eziel anticipated. I wonder… could the demon queen have decided to move toward Hellmount?”

  “That would be incredibly out of character for her, according to all the reports I’ve seen,” Haral replied, pausing as she thought about the reports she’d looked at after the mercenaries had sent Roselynn to Estalia for interrogation. “Everything I’ve seen about Estalia indicates that she’s selfish and prefers not to get involved in the war between the heavens and hells. While she does take prisoners, it appears that she primarily does so for the wealth that prisoner exchanges can bring her. That and expanding her cult inside her territory.”

  “Odd. I believe it would be worth inquiring of Firewatch whether they’ve heard anything about her movements,” Sorm said, turning away from his pack and looking at Haral seriously. “Most of those who could be dangerous to our cause are dead, from what you’ve told me, but I am still concerned. However, I don’t believe it’s worth sending additional people into the hells at this point. We’ve lost enough as it is, and further attempts are likely to draw the attention we’re seeking to avoid.”

  “True enough, I suppose,” Haral agreed, frowning unhappily. After a few moments, she asked, “Would you report on the events to the circle when you return? While I’m unhappy with the results, it’s best to give them what information we have.”

  “Agreed. In the meantime, I suggest you check to see if the arrow was used,” Sorm said, growing still more solemn. “I can’t imagine Eziel falling without at least attempting to use it, so if it was used, it would provide a little more information. I believe that the Forest of Sighs wouldn’t be able to conceal word of an attack on Alserah’s palace for more than a few hours.”

  Haral nodded, realizing he was right. She hated to think of the arrow being used in any way that didn’t involve killing a demon lord, but she couldn’t blame Eziel if she’d used it in an attempt to live. Fortunately, it was far, far easier to get word from the area around the Forest of Sighs than it was to get word from Zintas. She had to use too many cutouts to contact anyone on the southern continent safely, where it was easy in the northern kingdoms.

  “I’ll do that,” Haral agreed and smiled warmly
as her tension eased. “May you go in light.”

  “And bring doom to the shadows,” Sorm replied, smiling in turn. “Even if they have a few clues, none of our opponents know enough to stop us. We simply have to be wary, love.”

  “None that we know of,” Haral corrected gently, shaking her head. “I should have just killed Isalla and been done with it. The risk of someone using a divination to realize she was killed in the heavens was too small compared to the risk she is now.”

  “True enough,” the man agreed, finishing packing his clothing and letting out a soft breath. “Still, there’s nothing she can do from the hells. To be any danger, she has to return to at least the north. And if she comes to the north…”

  “Then she’s within our reach,” Haral finished, smiling. “I’ll make sure that arrangements are made. Travel safely.”

  “I shall,” Sorm agreed, and hefted his pack, adjusting his armor before leaning forward to give her a kiss. “It was pleasant seeing you again. Perhaps we’ll have time to truly settle down in the future.”

  Haral returned the kiss and smiled warmly as she nodded and replied. “I’d like that. Once the world is properly ordered at last, we’ll have plenty of time for it. Until next time.”

  He smiled and left the room, at a much more sedate pace than he normally took. Haral watched Sorm go, and her smile slowly faded as he vanished. She really did wish that he could spend more time with her, but she couldn’t have everything. Even a retired member of the Council Guard had his duties.

  “I’ll just have to make sure he can settle down sooner, rather than later,” Haral murmured, smiling more enthusiastically. “Now, let’s go get those letters of inquiry drafted, hm? The sooner I get started…”

  Haral laughed softly and turned to head into her office. At least running a supply company gave her plenty of cover for traveling and sending frequent messages. Soon enough, she’d have more information, and from there she’d be able to work on securing her future.

  Chapter 8

  “What did you say?” Cecilia asked, almost spinning around, the handmaiden’s eyes widening in shock. Cecilia really was rather pretty, Niadra admitted privately, with blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair, smooth skin, and an elegant figure, one which had initially intrigued Niadra. It was part of why Niadra had chosen the lower-ranking noblewoman as her handmaiden. On the other hand, she was also prone to minor outbursts like the one she’d just made. It could be tiresome on occasion, and combined with Cecilia’s lack of interest in women, had ended any hope of a surreptitious relationship. It really was a little disappointing.

  “I want the demon, Kitania, invited to the ball this coming weekend,” Niadra said, turning to examine herself in the mirror, admiring how the black silk looked against her skin, matching her unusually dark hair. She smiled, her lips bright red in the mirror, and met her own dark blue eyes as she continued. “She’ll need a dress, but that’s easy to arrange. I’ll take care of the expense, of course. Should the ball go well, I’d like her to be invited to the next ball as well.”

  “But… may I ask why? She’s a demon!” Cecilia protested, gesturing in the vague direction of the servant wing.

  “That’s exactly why, Cecilia,” Niadra replied, smiling broadly as she glanced at the woman, delight bubbling up and threatening to make her laugh. “Do you know how few of the nobility have seen a demon in a peaceful environment? Let alone one they can safely examine, collared as she is by my beloved ancestor? I’m told that Kitania is strong, at least compared to the majority of the Royal Guard, and she is beautiful in an exceedingly exotic fashion. Bringing her to the ball will be something spoken about for years, even if there’s an incident. If it goes well, it could shape the gatherings for decades to come.”

  “I… perhaps so, My Lady, but what if something goes wrong? If she misbehaves, might that not reflect on you?” Cecilia asked, obviously grasping at straws for a reason to object. “I just worry that it could be more trouble for you than it’s worth.”

  “Mm, I really don’t think so,” Niadra replied, shaking her head as she turned away from the mirror, refusing to let Cecilia’s fears sway her. “I just want her invited.”

  “If you say so, My Lady,” Cecilia replied reluctantly, and Niadra smiled still more as the handmaiden continued. “I’ll ensure that she has a dress as well.”

  “Excellent,” Niadra said, and started for the door as she continued. “Now, I believe I’ll begin the day with breakfast by the pond. Come along, Cecilia. I’m sure we’ll have company before long.”

  “Of course, My Lady!” Cecilia said, obviously more enthusiastic now. Niadra resisted the urge to roll her eyes, since she knew Cecilia’s enthusiasm was due to the numerous princes and nobles that might wander by. Aside from one of the candidates to replace the current king, Niadra wasn’t interested in any of the men who might express interest in her.

  No, Niadra smiled to herself as she thought about Kitania. Niadra had always had somewhat more exotic tastes, and had long since come to terms with the fact that she’d likely never have a position of power due to them. She preferred women, and someone as exotic as Kitania… she piqued Niadra’s interests quite firmly. The question was simply how receptive the demon might be, and how easily Niadra could avoid anyone catching them together. She couldn’t afford to ruin her reputation.

  It wouldn’t be easy, Niadra was certain. On the other hand, that had never stopped her before.

  Kitania looked up from the book as someone knocked on the door. She tilted her head curiously but set the book aside as she stood, speaking loudly. “One moment, I’ll be right there.”

  She’d been pleased that she was allowed into one of the palace’s lesser libraries, as Kitania’s attempt at going into the main library had resulted in a firm shock from her collar and the inability to take a single step beyond its doors. Fortunately, she’d been able to find a book that included a fair number of medical treatments that she hadn’t encountered before, and she’d started putting together lists of herbs that would work adequately for different treatments in the mortal world. Kitania was also happy to notice that some of the more common herbs were available in both worlds, which would make most of her treatments usable even here.

  She’d already had the opportunity to help treat a couple of soldiers as well as a single servant, and Kitania was building up grudging respect from the palace staff. The soldiers didn’t look down on her anymore, and she often found herself matched against the more elite soldiers, or against two or three of the less skilled members of the guard. As good as she was, she lost more than she’d like, considering her previous experience. Anna wouldn’t be pleased with Kitania, but she wasn’t using a weapon quite like she was trained for, and she also didn’t have proper armor.

  All that being true, a small part of Kitania was expecting it to be one of the guards when she opened the door. In a way she was right, since her usual pair of guards was across the hall, but what she wasn’t expecting was the better-dressed servant standing outside the door, holding a letter. The woman was looking Kitania over critically, and she spoke both promptly and disdainfully.

  “Kitania Darkshade, you’ve been invited to the ball three days hence by Princess Niadra Sellis the Fourth,” the woman said, offering the letter to Kitania, who looked back in just a bit of surprise. Or maybe more than a little, to be honest with herself.

  “I’m being invited?” Kitania asked, taking the letter and looking at it skeptically, more than a little shocked. If the woman hadn’t spoken to her by name, she’d have thought it was a case of terribly mistaken identity, though her appearance should make that nearly impossible. After a moment, she continued. “I wouldn’t think it was common practice for prisoners to be invited to balls.”

  “I don’t inquire as to her reasons when my princess chooses to extend invitations,” the maidservant replied promptly, though Kitania could practically hear her wondering if the princess had gone mad. Kitania had to agree with the maid.

&
nbsp; “Well, far be it from me to attempt to sway her, then. There’s only one problem,” Kitania replied, glancing down at her skirt and bodice before continuing. “I’m quite certain that none of my clothing is appropriate for a ball.”

  “That is no issue. Her Highness has arranged for suitable clothing, and a seamstress will arrive tomorrow,” the maidservant replied, then sniffed. “Do ensure that you’re available in the morning.”

  “As you say,” Kitania replied, and watched the woman turn and leave, her back straight as an arrow. After a moment, she turned to the guards and raised the letter, asking, “I… hope that was the best response?”

  “How should I know?” one of the guards replied, shaking her head in disbelief. “Royals. I don’t understand them.”

  “Fair, I suppose,” Kitania replied, looking down at the letter, then sighed and shrugged. “Would you mind letting your superiors know? If I’m supposed to stay away, just let me know and I’ll do my best to get out of it politely.”

  “Sure,” the other woman agreed, smiling thinly. “I’m pretty sure we’d have done that anyway.”

  “Yes, but it’s best to be certain,” Kitania replied, then bowed her head and retreated into her room, wondering what in all the hells was going on.

  Once safely out of sight, Kitania examined the letter in just a bit of askance. Despite what she’d said to the guards and handmaiden, Kitania wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of attending a ball. Considering her situation, the invitation couldn’t be entirely benevolent. The chances of someone having a specific goal in mind for her attendance were too high, and yet she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, which… chafed.

  “The only thing I can do is try to keep from getting used too badly,” Kitania murmured, then snorted and shook her head as she thought about Estalia’s palace, and the balls she’d attended there. They were almost certainly different, considering the nature of the Forest of Sighs, and she softly mocked herself. “Am I missing Mother’s palace? Really? Will wonders never cease?”