by Talis Jones
Christophe's mouth dropped open. “Perhaps you should shield yourself with some spell,” he suggested worriedly.
“I have no intention of letting my power slip through my grasp ever again,” she answered will all the ice and arrogance of a heartless queen.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Tom followed the swirling maze of bridges and stairs that bound the trees to one another as he made his way to the highest central hut. The Llyrian woman, Pekka Gabor, had sworn herself to the Whispers shortly after her arrival and since then they both have found themselves busy with preparations. Despite this camp appearing as little more than a wooded hideaway filled with youths, the reality of their nature quickly broke such an illusion.
The Whispers trained with excellence. All were required to participate, even Pekka and Tom. It was unnerving to see such young faces wield a blade with the skill of any soldier in his former army. More than that it was the expressions they bore while engaged in battle, even if only a friendly match their focus shut off the childlike innocence in their smile turning them into lithe killers that stalked their prey in the ring with cold eyes devoid of fear. Even without their perfect swordsmanship Tom knew that their battle face could halt even a seasoned soldier if but for a crucial moment.
Like angels of war these Whispers sent only blood promises along the wind that chilled the spine with its stone cold assurances. They knew their enemy, they knew their past, and they would not be swayed.
With a calloused hand he reached out and swung open a beautiful stained glass door. Stepping inside he breathed in the familiar pine and spice scent of the Council’s hut. Whispers ran in and out at all hours collaborating with plans, armor, weapons, routes, and more. Despite what Tom had first thought the Council served in rotating terms so all had the chance to govern. Currently he looked into the faces of Abel, Sasha, Johnny, Kofi, Xià, Kevin, and Ping. Seamus’ seat sat uncomfortably empty. Pekka beckoned him to an open spot and he folded himself upon the cushion around the ash table.
“Welcome,” Xià offered with a small bow of her head. He bowed his in return.
“Where do we stand?” he asked crisply.
“We have received word that Addar Waseem has escaped Mordréda and has secured his throne in Adhan. His army is promised to Eisen and the Iron Army,” supplied Abel.
Tom nodded pleased.
“Eisen has drawn a continually growing number of soldiers from Aztlan, Llyr, and even Ailill,” added Kevin. “It’s impressive.”
“They’re scraped from the underbelly,” Sasha snorted dismissively.
“A fighter becomes a soldier when given a uniting cause to fight for,” Johnny retorted softly in his lilting Virginia accent. Sasha muttered something under her breath but made no other reply.
“It sounds like our numbers are high, but what are our real chances of winning?” Tom asked seriously. “Since you told me that the Crown is not Sarai Morrigan but a dark Whisper, I remain worried.”
“Are you serious?” Kevin snapped a little offended. “She’s one Whisper, with diminished powers I might add, against three armies that includes a tidal wave of Whispers.”
“I apologize,” Tom frowned. “I did not mean to offend, I only wish to be certain. I have fought against this woman before and while I was in no fit state of mind she still managed to leave a rather lasting impression. She is a cold ruler with a whole kingdom protecting her while you’re—”
“Children?” finished Sasha harshly.
Despite all he had witnessed and learned, no matter that he knew the Whispers were fierce warriors, as he looked into such young faces he still found it a struggle to truly believe they would not walk onto the battlefield and be slaughtered like lambs. Suddenly an itch bloomed upon his arm and he scratched it knocking off a little blackish purple insect. In a blink more came to join its brother and his skin lit up with unbearable itching as hundreds of the little creatures swarmed his body biting and crawling and burrowing. Tom let out a wild yelp as his eyes widened in panic. Toppling away from the table he beat himself frantically trying to rid his body of the insects. Just as his heart reached an alarming rate they vanished.
With his breathing still ragged he searched himself and found that every insect had disappeared. But even so he could feel the ghost of their little crawling bodies on his skin. “By the blood, what was that?” he panted, anger covering fear.
Slowly Ping rose from the table and faced him with an ancient stare. His shaved head stayed high and his olive skin remained cool. “We are not just children. We are the children of Oneiroi. We are the whispers one hears in the wind. We are the voices whispering lies and truths, hope and defeat, laughter and cries, advice and dreams. We fill the very wind with the strength of magic dancing in our bones and when we howl, the mountain bows to it.”
Tom blinked slowly. In all his months spent here he had never heard the boy utter so many words at once, or perhaps ever. He followed his twin sister like a silent shadow. Despite the boy being several times his junior, Tom found himself feeling properly chastised. A chill tingled down his spine in fear as realization dawned upon him. The same child who took such care to heal him upon his rescue was the same who nearly had him tearing out his own eyes with blind panic.
“Do...” Tom paused heavily. “Do you all have such gifts?” He looked to Pekka and saw that she wore a matching fearful expression. While she had witnessed a Weepy and the skills of Sasha, and Tom knew his healing from the twins to be of magic, they had yet to discover what powers the others held nor how they could be weaponized.
“We find it best if we keep such cards held close to our chest,” smiled Abel knowingly. “Harder to anticipate our attacks that way.”
Tom nodded warily. “I see.” His curiosity beat at him and he desperately wanted to know more but knew to hold his tongue.
“The Llyrian army remains unmatched,” Pekka interjected, steering the conversation back to its beginnings. “The Whispers not only have expert skills but also the element of surprise where their powers are concerned.”
“Gifts,” Xià corrected her kindly. “We prefer to call them gifts.” Pekka smiled with a faint blush acknowledging the correction.
“But if Cassandra was, or is a Whisper, then doesn’t she already know all of your gifts?” Tom asked quickly.
Abel shrugged. “I’m not sure she believes we are coming. Even if she does she will not know when. Besides that there is little she can do to stop us. We are bringing all the strength of Oneiroi between our three armies and she does not possess the magic she used to. We will face but her and the Crown’s army. It will be a bloodbath as they say.”
“Which is why we must get to Cassandra as quickly as possible,” chirped Xià. “They’re just fighting to protect their Crown.”
“They chose to side with the witch,” sneered Sasha angrily.
“Many of them had no choice,” snapped Kofi. “They had families to feed or no other occupation in their town. Some are born with the blood oath in their veins and believe it an honor to protect their Crown.”
“Fools, all of them,” Sasha snapped.
“Fools now, maybe,” Johnny frowned, slowly spinning a hunting knife in his hand. “But the sun will blind any man who stares into it for too long. Our calling is to protect ‘em, to shield ‘em from submitting to such a promising but deadly leader. We’ve left ‘em for too long in the sun. Maybe with time to cool off in the shade they’ll see right again. We owe ‘em that.”
Xià smiled softly in thanks and Johnny looked down with a blush upon his cheeks.
“We need to coordinate with the Iron Army,” Tom pushed.
“And Llyr,” Pekka added.
“Yes, where’s Nox? We should send him on more runs, perhaps set up a rendezvous point to meet with the prince and Eisen.” Tom glanced about but come to think of it he hadn’t seen the boy in quite some time.
“Nox is…unwell,” Xià answered sadly. “His brain cancer has advanced further and although he remain
s in a coma, thus here as a Weepy, he has chosen to be by himself for a while to give him time to come to peace with his illness.”
“Hasn’t he been sick for a long time?” Pekka asked with gentle concern. “He always acted with such enthusiasm I thought he had already come to terms with it.”
Xià’s eyes watered slightly. “I think a part of him still hoped to see his family again.”
Pekka nodded sadly before clearing her throat. Dragging them all back on topic once again she proposed, “Perhaps we should send someone else to meet with Eisen?”
“Yes, it’s best we do this face to face,” Abel agreed. “We are prepared but we need to work together to coordinate this attack effectively. Who will go?”
“I will,” Tom volunteered. “I feel it’s always best to send emissaries in pairs.”
“I will go,” Pekka nodded.
“No, we need a Whisper. It is their army after all,” Tom pointed out.
“Then I will go,” Sasha volunteered.
“Ha! You? If we send you Geoffrey will turn his army against us by the week’s end!” Kofi chuckled playfully. “I will go with you, Tom. You are well familiar with Mordréda and I am a friendly face. We will be a good team.”
Abel clapped his hands together. “Right, well that’s settled then. No use waiting around, I suppose. Ready your packs and be off in the morning.”
Tom furrowed his brow in thought. “It will take weeks to walk there—”
“Walk? Ha!” Kofi’s wide grin made the older man smile. “I will find us a pair of horses, Tom. Do not worry,” he assured him with a wink.
Kofi did indeed call two fine steeds from the woods. Tom had blinked in surprise wondering where they could have possibly been hiding but all Kofi would say was “I told you not to worry, Tom” and then with a laugh he set off confident upon his dappled mare.
It had taken Tom an embarrassing while to figure out that communicating with animals was the boy’s gift. So apparent and yet at first his stubbornly blind mind had insisted that his open and friendly personality simply extended to animals leaving them unafraid to sit upon his shoulders or eat from his hands. Tom was glad Kofi rode beside him instead of Sasha. Sasha may be only sixteen but she held the ferocity of all womankind within her. In contrast, Kofi sped up their journey with endless stories, songs, and truly awful jokes that made Tom laugh regardless.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Bones aching from the long journey they emerged at last in the place Nox had reported Eisen’s camp to be. Their horses strode to the heart of it and they dismounted outside of Eisen’s tent, marked with an emblem of a dragon above the opening. A woman strode forwards to meet them with her bright green eyes assessing the visitors carefully.
“I am Tom Myrddin and this is Kofi. We have been sent on behalf of the Whispers to speak with Eisen,” Tom introduced formally.
“He’s not here,” she replied curtly. Her short black hair fell into her eyes and she jerked her head to toss it out of her face.
Tom looked sideways at Kofi with an uneasy glance. “This is a matter of importance. We will wait.”
“What’s your name?” Kofi asked friendly and putting out his hand to shake.
A tiny smile cracked her hard veneer as she shook the boy’s dark hand. “Xiomara,” she answered. “Aleksander will show you to the dining space. You can wait for Eisen’s return there.”
They almost jumped in surprise when a man’s voice spoke not two feet behind them. “It’s this way,” he beckoned.
Kofi and Tom turned to follow him but Kofi paused. “Do you know when he will be back?”
“If everything went as planned he should return shortly. He just had a few bricks to disassemble is all,” Xiomara winked.
“Well, when he arrives tell him an old friend is waiting for him.”
Aleksander left them outside the dining tent and the two visitors seated themselves. “What do you think he’s up to?” Tom asked quietly.
Kofi shrugged. “What Xiomara said, I suppose. Pulling apart a few bricks.”
Tom gave him a dubious look but didn’t argue. They waited long into the night and just when Tom felt ready to hunt someone down for a bed a tall figure slid inside the tent. Tom stood, raising the lantern as he did so. Before him stood a young man who had to be Eisen, leader of the Iron Army. Eighteen years old and yet he looked older. Muscled and straight-backed he took them in with one calculating glance. Kofi grinned, ever the good-natured friend, but Tom scrutinized the triumphant gleam in Eisen’s eye. For perhaps the thousandth time Tom wondered what he had been up to…
* * *
A messenger cracked open the heavy throne room doors and rushed to the Crown before kneeling with a message scroll extended before her. “Mi suverenya,” she acknowledged respectfully. The Crown took the scroll and immediately the girl jumped up and hurried to the exit. With a calm businesslike air the Crown unfurled the note before cold murder filled her eyes.
Arms thrown wide her chest heaved with great breaths and like fire spouting from the throat of a dragon she shrieked in pure rage. Glass exploded as every window in the room shattered raining down upon her leaving tiny nicks along her skin but Cassandra did not so much as flinch. Tiny trickles of blood dotted the crumpled scroll as her fury reached no end.
Outside the throne room the hairs stood on end of all those within earshot. Servants scurried away, soldiers halted their training, guards flinched unsure of what to do, and in her room Adrianna took the blood-chilling sound as a sign to change quickly into practical clothes and stuff as many pilfered blades as she could into her boots and sleeves whispering a quick prayer under her breath as she did so. She had to find Seamus.
Heavy hands beat her door just as she readied herself to run. Frozen at the sound she jolted as the door burst open and rough hands seized her, tearing her bag from her hands as they attempted to clasp iron shackles upon the girl.
The time to obey however had long since passed and Adrianna bucked and kicked with all the fear and strength inside of her. She managed to slip from their grasp but just as her feet crossed the threshold someone caught her ankles and she slammed facedown onto the hard stone floor. The guards having given up on chaining her, simply lunged forwards each grabbing a thrashing limb. With great effort they hauled Adrianna down to the dungeons but she did not go quietly. Screaming her protests the whole way down.
Servants stuttered and stared but none dared to interfere.
In what seemed like no time at all they tossed Adrianna into a cell where she collapsed exhausted. Her throat raw and her limbs limp. Panting she curled up in the corner. An entire day passed, then another. Her thirst grew unbearable. Cramps assaulted her stomach as headaches wreaked havoc on her head.
At last the sound of boots announced someone’s presence. The door whined open and shut as her visitor circled before her.
Adrianna looked up from her seat to see long golden blonde hair framing a face of hatred. “Cassandra,” she called weakly.
“At last you speak my name,” she replied coolly. “What else do you know?”
Vaguely Adrianna’s mind wandered to the knives still tucked away on her person. Perhaps she couldn’t kill Cassandra but it might be enough to get away…
Carefully she moved her hands towards her boots as naturally as she could muster. “Jack told me everything. I know you’re a Whisper and I know you betrayed them and Titus.”
“Of course they’d tell you that,” she seethed. “Did you ever think that maybe it was me who was betrayed?”
Adrianna nodded. “I believe it.” This surprised Cassandra, throwing her off balance. “Why else would you have so much anger?”
“And yet you still defend them?”
“I think that they’ve made mistakes. I think they should have stood up for Oneiroi long before you reached this place. I think they should have tried harder to reach you,” she answered. “But I also think that this whole bloody mess is your fault.”
“Ha!” th
e Whisper spat.
Adrianna pushed herself onto her knees, hands dangling by her boots. “This will end, Cassandra. Either you surrender or Oneiroi will force you into submission.”
“They tried before and failed. What makes you think they will try again?” An arrogant smile alighted the Crown’s face.
“You know they will try again,” Adrianna stated darkly.
“They will not win.”
“But they will damn well try.” As Cassandra opened her mouth to reply Adrianna launched one of her small daggers straight for her heart and leapt towards the unlocked cell door. Just as her fingers brushed the steel her body froze. With a cry of agony her body curled backwards as if an icy hand were bending her spine in half. It lasted only a moment but it proved long enough to crumple the girl upon the floor with tears of pain in her eyes. Cassandra walked over and stood glaring down at her holding Adrianna’s dagger in her hand.
“Just as you failed they shall fail also.”
Adrianna closed her eyes angrily wanting this visit to be over as her heart beat with fear and defeat. She wanted it. She wished it. But the stars did not hear.
Hours. Cassandra remained in the dungeons for hours torturing Adrianna for information on Eisen, on the Whispers, on anything and anyone at all. By magic, by blade, by fist, by ice, fire, and water she was questioned. Refusing to break Adrianna had held her tongue but all too quickly she began throwing out random snippets of information. She tried to speak only what Cassandra already knew or would find useless but soon she began flinging out anything, her mind hardly coherent of what words left her lips wanting only to make the pain stop.
“Let. Me. Go,” she panted, fresh hot tears smearing down her cheeks.
Cassandra stepped back. The girl knew nothing she needed, no battle plans, no camp locations, no secret attacks or weapons, nothing. She’d reached this conclusion by the third hour, the other two had been for pure therapeutic release. “I will not let you go,” she whispered softly, kneeling so she was eye-level with her former confidant. Gently she brushed the sticky strands of hair from Adrianna’s bloodied face. “That is why I do this to you. I cannot let you go.”
