Cursebreaker

by Carol A Park

  He drew in a deep breath. “Then we need wait no longer.”

  Chapter Forty

  A Worthy Ally

  Driskell clattered down the steep stair leading underneath the civic hall. He tugged open the heavy metal door at the bottom. It wasn’t locked, but there was a guard on the other side.

  The guard nodded to Driskell and let him through. He continued through the windowless tunnel leading away from the hall and into the side of the mountain.

  But Driskell wasn’t headed far in. In the years right before Setana subdued Donia, one of the rooms had been converted to a war room.

  It hadn’t seen any use since then—or, perhaps, even then. He could almost imagine his ancestors huddled around the gigantic map of Donia and surrounding regions, debating the difficult decision of whether they would resist Setana or simply give up.

  He stopped in front of that door, knocked, and then stepped inside.

  The gigantic map was still there, and today, Tanuac, Nahua, General Gyano, and two of his senior officers huddled around it, along with Yaotel and Huiel. Driskell had since learned that Huiel had previously been overseeing training Banebringers—new and old alike—out in Venetia somewhere.

  They’d been trickling in over the past few weeks. Yaotel had put out a call for Banebringers who could get there in time, letting them know they had protection in Marakyn if they were willing to help repel the Conclave’s force.

  The group around the table ignored him as he slipped in and quietly shut the door. They were used to him coming in and out, delivering messages and, sometimes, more wine.

  “…contacted me yesterday,” Yaotel was saying. “And her report not only corroborates what Vaughn ran into but makes it clear that there is no reason to wait.”

  “Excellent,” General Gyano said. Driskell was still impressed at how the aging general had taken the news of their alliance with Banebringers in stride. He was pragmatic, and his pragmatism served them all well, because he recognized the asset the Banebringers could bring and immediately began to brainstorm ways to utilize them without making their presence known. “But what about Vaughn?”

  Yaotel shook his head. “That’s the only problem. I haven’t heard from him.”

  Driskell cleared his throat, and everyone turned to look at him. He gave a short bow. “My apologies, but I have a warning and two urgent messages.” The first message was verbal and directly relevant to what they were discussing, so he led with that. “Dal Vaughn and Da Ivana just arrived back in Marakyn. I kept them both at the consulate for now because I know you’ve been waiting for Vaughn’s return.”

  Yaotel’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Good,” he said. “How recently did they arrive?”

  “They showed up at the seventh-tier gates about an hour ago. And, looking rather rough, I might add.” He raised an eyebrow. “Should I send for them immediately?”

  “Yes,” Tanuac said. “With apologies. You had a second message?”

  He walked a sealed envelope over to Tanuac and handed it to him. “A Fuilynian messenger arrived bearing this.”

  Though no one had been speaking, the entire room stilled.

  Tanuac broke the seal, unfolded the piece of paper, and read it silently. Then he nodded, looking grimly satisfied. “Ri Leito sends word. They have decided to accept their Xambrian Ambassador’s offer.”

  General Gyano slapped the table. “Excellent,” he said again.

  They had been waiting on word from Fuilyn since the Xambrian ambassador had shown up. Venetia had already pledged their support, but Fuilyn had been an unknown until now—geographically, it would be the most vulnerable of the regions if their alliance with the Xambrians took a downward turn.

  Grins broke out on the senior officers’ faces. “We might do this, General,” one of them said.

  “Not so fast,” Tanuac warned. “There’s still the issue of Ferehar.”

  The grins slipped off every face, and then the room was quiet again.

  Ferehar was a problem. Mezzo had been clear that all four regions needed to agree, and Ferehar was especially important due to its proximity to Xambria. But they had yet to hear anything from Ri Airell. They had sent three messengers so far, and the first two had returned without even being admitted, Airell having refused to see them; the third had not returned at all yet. His cooperation wasn’t looking promising, and yet Ferehar was necessary for their plans.

  Yaotel glanced at Driskell. “You said you had a warning?”

  “Oh. Uh, yes. That priest is lurking around again. It took me so long to get down here because he was pestering me.” He had tried to subtly suggest to the priest that he ought to go elsewhere—with the help of a little aether—but it seemed to have little effect on him. Perhaps because it was too out of line with what the priest wanted to do, and Driskell wasn’t skilled enough to figure out how to work that to his advantage.

  Tanuac rubbed his chin. “He’s been even more persistent since you arrived back. We’re running out of time.”

  Considering the Conclave army was now camped within half a day’s ride from Marakyn, that was an understatement. As of yet, they seemed content merely to wait—presumably for orders from Weylyn City as to what they should do. But the moment they discovered the aether they had wasn’t useful…

  “Thank you, Driskell,” Tanuac said, “you may go retrieve Dal Vaughn now.”

  He bowed and left the room.

  Vaughn wanted nothing more than to sleep. He didn’t think they had been on the other side more than four or five days; it felt like a year. And in that time, he had had exactly one actual night of sleep, and it had been interrupted. Then it had taken four days to pick their way back to Marakyn. The portal had spit them out south of the city, up in the foothills of the mountains and seemingly in the middle of nowhere. With no shelter, no bedrolls, rationed food and water, and only the clothes Tani had provided, the journey back hadn’t been an easy one.

  So, when Driskell had appeared shortly after they had presented themselves at the seventh-tier gates and told them to wait in the consulate rather than going directly to Vaughn’s room, he couldn’t say he was altogether pleased.

  They waited in a small suite of rooms where they could bathe, change, or take some refreshment if they wished. Driskell had informed them that Yaotel was in a meeting, but he would return with instructions in a bit.

  “A bit” turned out to be sooner rather than later. They only had time to track down the bag Ivana had unintentionally left at the shrine and the others had brought back with them, wash their faces, and eat a light meal before Driskell returned.

  Vaughn felt the weariness pulling at him even more as they followed Driskell through the civic hall, down a back stair, and into a damp tunnel. He had no idea how Yaotel would react to any of the news he brought back, and he doubted it would make a difference to Yaotel’s plans for him in the short-term.

  He did know he didn’t have the energy—or patience—for arguing.

  Driskell stopped in front of a thick wooden door, and then his eyes ran over Vaughn, lingering on the bow and quiver still slung on his back. “Do you want me to take your bow back to your room, or…?”

  Vaughn exchanged a glance with Ivana. For his part, he wasn’t just going to hand off this incredible bow to an acquaintance. They had tested it on the way back—several times. It was so light, it could have been hollow, yet it seemed indestructible. Even more notable, it could be left strung without damaging the bow, and Vaughn was able to pull and hold a draw with complete ease for minutes at a time.

  And it could punch holes through trees. Literally.

  Nothing a weaveblood—the rarest Banebringer in their records—had made had ever come close.

  “I’ll hang on to this for now,” Vaughn said. “It’s, uh, special.”

  Driskell didn’t even ask about Ivana’s dagger, though whether that was because it was less conspicuous than a bow sticking out over her head, or because she had once saved all their lives, Vaughn didn�
��t know.

  Driskell bowed and then knocked on the door. He popped his head in. “They’re here.”

  There was an affirmation from inside the room, and he pushed the door open. “Go ahead.”

  Vaughn stepped into the room, Ivana just behind.

  They were greeted by seven or eight faces, most of whom Vaughn recognized, but not all.

  Yaotel’s face went rigid as soon as he saw Ivana. Vaughn could tell he wanted to say something, but he had bit his tongue.

  Would his attitude change when he found out she was a Banebringer now too? And if so, for better or worse?

  Vaughn stepped up to the table, the surface of which was an enormous map, and Ivana stepped back against the wall. “So,” he said, “anyone notice there’s an army camped within a day’s march of Marakyn?”

  Yaotel didn’t seem to appreciate his attempt at humor. “Is there a reason you didn’t contact me to tell me what in the abyss you were doing—since you’re obviously not dead?”

  Vaughn cleared his throat. He felt smugly satisfied about what he was about to drop on Yaotel. “About the abyss. My qixli didn’t work there, and then we were forced to leave all our stuff behind in Thaxchatichan’s palace right before Ziloxchanachi had us arrested.” He tapped his chin. “And while Taniqotalin gave us enough supplies to get back here, he didn’t retrieve my things. So, see, I couldn’t have contacted you.”

  There was silence in the room. General Gyano, whom Vaughn had only met a few times, looked confused, along with the two men Vaughn presumed were senior officers. Yaotel was staring at him like he’d sprouted a third eyeball. Tanuac’s brow was furrowed, and Nahua was looking at him speculatively. Huiel gave a little roll of his eyes, as if positive this was exactly what would happen when Vaughn showed up again.

  “You mean to tell me,” Yaotel said, “that you actually made that damn door work?”

  “Didn’t Danton and Thrax give you a report?”

  “Yes,” Yaotel said. “They said you disappeared in a ball of fire.” He jerked his head back toward where Ivana leaned against the wall. “Along with her. What was I supposed to make of that? No body, no bloodbane, so we were reluctant to pronounce you dead—”

  “Therefore, you obviously should have concluded that it worked,” Vaughn said. “What’s the issue here?”

  A muscle jumped in Yaotel’s jaw. Vaughn was certain that, had they been alone, he would have had an earful by now. As it was, he was grateful for the presence of Ri Tanuac and his people to keep Yaotel’s frustration in check.

  “As you have astutely noted,” Yaotel said evenly, “there’s a Conclave army camped a day’s march outside Marakyn. Did you gain anything of immediate use in your travels? Something that will dramatically sway our course of action?”

  Vaughn pressed his lips together. A single Banebringer, two super-powered weapons, and some incredibly comfortable clothing hardly seemed of any importance in the face of an army. Long-term, what they had learned could change everything. But they wouldn’t survive long enough for him to figure out Zily’s cryptic mission if they didn’t win now.

  “Then I’m in no mood for your mouth,” Yaotel said, interpreting his silence correctly. “I brought you here immediately because you’re needed.”

  Vaughn gritted his teeth. “And I just risked my life ten times over on a crazy chance that not only worked, but did bear results of long-term importance. I’m happy to regale you with the full details later, but I’m exhausted and cranky, and I’m in no mood to be scolded. I’m back, and as promised, I’m now at your disposal.” Grudgingly.

  Yaotel exchanged a glance with Tanuac, and to Vaughn’s surprise, stepped back and deferred to the Ri.

  Ri Tanuac drummed his fingers on the map. “Gyano. Take a break. Dal Huiel, your assistance has been invaluable already—we’ll call on you again soon.”

  The general and his two officers filed out of the room, followed by Huiel. Driskell started to follow, but Tanuac stopped him. “No, stay this time, Driskell. It’s time you were brought into the loop. I may later need your reflections.”

  Vaughn raised an eyebrow, and Driskell slowly drew out his notebook and sat down in one of the chairs next to Yaotel.

  When the wooden door had shut with a heavy thunk, Tanuac leaned forward on his hands, splaying his fingers flat against the map. “We have a problem,” he said.

  No kidding. But Vaughn bit his tongue. Mouthing off to Yaotel was one thing. Mouthing off to the Ri of Donia was another.

  The side of Tanuac’s mouth quirked up. “Let me revise that. We have many problems. But there’s only one problem you need to concern yourself with, Dal Vaughn. The army outside Marakyn is not it.”

  Vaughn didn’t want to hear what was coming next. He didn’t want to do it. He had hoped, beyond hope, that it wouldn’t come to this, that maybe Yaotel had come up with a different plan while he’d been gone.

  “Ferehar,” Tanuac said, “has steadfastly refused to cooperate.”

  That wasn’t news. “With all due respect, Your Excellency,” Vaughn said, “I told you that would be the case. My brother is a power-hungry ass.”

  “A dangerous combination, agreed,” Tanuac said. “Therefore, we’re done attempting even the finer points of diplomacy.” He glanced at Yaotel and then, for some reason, at Driskell, before looking back at Vaughn. “Yaotel assures me that even a charmblood would likely have little success with persuading Ri Airell to relent. No, ultimately, Airell needs to go.”

  Vaughn clenched his teeth, but he said nothing.

  Tanuac laced his fingers together. “Both your experience and your comrade Da Aleena’s time in Ferehar have confirmed that Ri Airell’s position in Ferehar is tenuous. We don’t believe it would take much to topple him, but we need someone sympathetic to our cause to put in his place.” He raised an eyebrow at Vaughn. “Yaotel told me he’s already spoken to you about this.”

  Vaughn had no choice but to acknowledge the Ri’s statement. “He has. But”—he raised a finger—“I still maintain that the idea that they would accept a Banebringer as their Ri is insane. And even if I weren’t a Banebringer, why in the abyss would they want yet another member of my tyrannical family in charge?”

  “It makes a certain amount of sense,” Ivana said softly.

  Both Tanuac and Yaotel turned to look at her, but Ivana addressed Vaughn. “Worship of the heretic gods is not dead in Ferehar,” she said. “If there would be anywhere a Banebringer could get away with usurping power, it would be there. And as to the family connection, it puts you in a perfect position to challenge him. Here in Donia, it wouldn’t work. But in Ferehar, the people are used to the dynastic way they handle the position of Ri. Better to hand it off to the kinder, less oppressive brother and see what happens than have another bloody civil war.”

  The puppet brother, you mean, Vaughn thought bitterly. Ivana was right. Vaughn had already had these arguments with Yaotel—and lost.

  Tanuac gave her a nod of acknowledgment. “And if it works,” he said, “not only can you then agree to the Xambrian terms, but we will have accomplished something bigger than all of this. A Gifted as the Ri of one of our allies might lend us credibility as we push to integrate the Ichtaca into Donian society publicly.”

  “Or it might make everyone afraid another Banebringer will stage a coup here—because we’re just that evil,” Vaughn said darkly.

  “Perhaps. But we’re out of other options.”

  Vaughn folded his arms across his chest. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “What we want you to do,” Yaotel said, “is assemble a core team of people you can trust and who would be valuable to you. Contact Da Aleena and form a plan to oust Ri Airell with as little fanfare as possible. Then get to Ferehar as quickly as you can and do whatever needs to be done.” His eyes darted to Ivana, but he didn’t call her out.

  Vaughn could almost feel the shackles slapping around his ankles as they spoke. He tried one last time. “I don’t want to be a Ri.
”

  Yaotel sighed. “Look. This is a temporary situation. As soon as all of this is over, as soon as we have some stability…do whatever you want. Hold elections or pass it on to someone else who can do the job. Take your wealth and disappear. I don’t care, Vaughn, but we’re in the middle of planning to defend Marakyn against a siege, yet we must have Ferehar or it won’t matter. We can’t spare an army to do this the brute-force way, and I don’t want to draw attention to what we’re doing anyway. I’m handing this off to you to handle in whatever way you see fit.” He paused and met Vaughn’s eyes. “Do you understand?”

  Vaughn tried hard to keep his eye from twitching. “I understand. May I go sleep now?”

  Yaotel rubbed his temple. “Yes. Get some rest. And after you’ve done so, I do want to hear about the long-term solutions you think you’ve gained from…” He shook his head. “Your trip.”

  Vaughn gave him a mock salute, turned, and left.

  Ivana pushed herself off the wall and followed.

  Vaughn strode down the hall as if with some purpose, but the moment the door closed, he stopped and pressed his forehead to the cool of the stone wall. “What I would give to be able to get drunk right now,” he muttered.

  Ivana snorted. “Well. I’m sure you could find some pretty woman instead.”

  Burning skies, it was tempting, and he was not in the mood to hear her sanctimonious sentiments on that.

  He turned to glare at her. “You want to know what you can do with your self-righteous opinion about my former vice?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not particularly.”

  He was tired, he was frustrated, and he’d had enough. “You can shove it. You have no idea what I’ve been through—no right to judge me.”

  Her jaw tightened. “What you’ve been through?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, sketching a mock bow. “I forgot. You’re the only one in the world who has ever had everything taken from them. Forgive me for my gross insensitivity.”