One of the Talons poked his head into Kirag’s tent. “Unusual activity at the princess’s tent.”
Maybe this is my opportunity.
Kirag jumped up from his cot. “Good job. Have a Duo within sight of the tent in case I have need of additional eyes or ears.” The man withdrew.
Kirag strapped on his sword, pulled on his boots, and stepped out into the bright morning sun.
He found a much larger than usual group of soldiers gathered around the princess’s tent. Tabor’s second, Khalid, was giving assignments and arranging the soldiers in formation.
Kirag had watched Khalid and knew him to be a deadly swordsman, as good as some of Azazel’s best Talons. Kirag would so love to have an excuse to fight the man. There was no question who would win that fight, but he would relish the humiliation Khalid would endure as he was defeated without Kirag so much as getting winded.
Long, dark hair appeared between the soldiers as the princess exited her tent. Then the protective circle slammed shut around her, blocking her from view.
Princess, where are you going that requires so many guards?
The princess and her escort walked the short distance to Aubgherle on foot, which made it easy for Kirag to follow. In fact, as far as anyone watching was concerned, he wasn’t following at all; he was merely walking along the main trail.
He had, of course, sent a Duo ahead, into the city as well. They would help keep an eye on things from there.
Apparently their destination was the Aubgherle marketplace, and the princess’s escort was soon jostling their way through crowds of citizens and merchants. Kirag had no such trouble. Between his black armor and imposing size, people tended to get out of his way. The downside of this was that stealth was difficult, so he had to hang back for his pursuit to not be obvious.
Perhaps their destination was not the market after all, for they veered right, passed through a less-busy part of the market, and then passed right out the other side. As the yelling of the merchants selling their goods began to fade, Kirag wondered what this trip was all about.
Where are you leading me, Princess?
They headed south, back out of the city once more, and onto a trail that the southern farming communities used to bring their wares to market. Here the crowds thinned greatly and the farmlands opened up. Kirag was going to be even more conspicuous, and it would be harder to explain away his presence out in the open. Why would he be traveling south of Aubgherle? He increased the distance between him and his quarry.
Suddenly the princess’s escort drew their weapons, ran forward, and grabbed a man in black who’d been hiding in the bushes. They threw him down on the ground and someone gave him a swift kick to the jaw. The man stopped moving.
A snarl crossed Kirag’s lips. This man was one of his troops! He’d stationed them all around the city to watch for strangers. How dare the Sheikh’s men assault an enforcer of Azazel?
He spotted a flicker of movement from deep within the grass beside the trail. One of his Talons was hiding in the grass with a crossbow. At that moment the bolt shot forward and landed squarely in the back of one of the caravan soldiers. Instantly two more bolts shot forth from nearby rooftops and sprouted from other caravan soldiers. The Duo he sent ahead must be hiding there.
Kirag growled in frustration. These caravan fools deserved their deaths for what they had done, but who in their right mind attacks with four to one numbers against them?
I am surrounded by idiots.
In the commotion, Kirag caught a glimpse of a dress and the flash of a drawn dagger. The princess had parted company with her protectors, ducking past them as they scrambled to help their fallen or chase after the idiotic Duo scurrying across the rooftops. Only Khalid had enough of a working brain to run after his charge.
Kirag too gave chase. He was shocked to realize that the princess wasn’t fleeing—she was pursuing the Talon who had been hidden in the grass. She was quick, too, in addition to being brave. And foolish.
He picked up his pace and came up behind Khalid, who seemed entirely unaware that he was being followed. Kirag already had his sword drawn, and with one swift motion he slashed across the back of the guard’s thighs and kicked him. Khalid fell, struck his head on a rock, and was knocked unconscious.
Kirag smiled.
He’d never expected such an opportunity so soon.
But his quarry was the princess, and he left the soldier behind. The Talon was leading her toward the forest that bordered the farmlands. The home of the elves.
The princess threw a dagger at the Talon. It buried itself in his back. She ran past him with yet another dagger and slashed across his neck. A plume of crimson erupted from the wound.
This princess has claws. Fascinating.
Kirag ducked into the grass to watch her next move.
She paused to confirm the Talon was dead, then ran into the woods.
Why? Why not head back to your guards?
Yet he was glad that she had not, for this presented a perfect opportunity.
Kirag’s best approach was to try to intercept her before she got too deep into the woods. He took a parallel course into the forest, and with his long strides he was easily able to easily outpace her.
When he’d taken his position in front of hers, he ducked behind a large tree and pulled out one of the marked straws that he’d taken from the princess’s tent. Now that Kirag had had the time to examine the contents—and even test them on a Talon—he knew what the powder inside did: it put a target to sleep almost instantly. It also seemed to have effects on memory.
The girl was fleetfooted, but her heavy breathing gave her away. He heard her approach, one of the straws to his mouth, and blew just as she passed in front of him.
She was enveloped in the cloud of powder. After several coughing steps, she fell face forward into a pile of leaves.
He laughed as he walked toward her. “Hello at last, Princess. I think it’s time we take you to a place where we can talk. I have some unpleasant, but very entertaining, questions for you, my princess.”
Before Kirag could take another step, an elf materialized from the nearest trees, a glittering sword in his hands.
“Kirag,” he said, with murderous rage in his eyes. “I told you once before to stay away from here. Now you will pay for all that you’ve done.”
Kirag drew his sword. “Castien Galonos,” he snarled. “Welcome to your death.”
The elf wove his blade through the air, moving it so rapidly that the air hummed.
But Kirag was unfazed. Grinning, he retrieved the elven dagger from his belt and held it up. “Recognize this, elf?”
That caught the elf’s attention. And just as Castien’s gaze flicked to the dagger, Kirag threw it—directly at the unconscious princess.
With impressive speed, Castien launched himself at the dagger and slashed it out of midair. But Kirag had been expecting this—or at least the attempt—and was already sending a powerful thrust of his sword at the off-balance sword master.
The elf dodged, but came out worse for the encounter. A few droplets of blood seeped from the arm of his tunic.
Kirag chuckled. “First blood, mine.”
The elf resumed weaving his sword in a dizzying pattern. The annoying buzzing sound grew louder.
Kirag jabbed with his sword, testing his opponent. The elf lunged with blinding speed; had Kirag not already planned to step backwards, he might have found a sword in his lung. Instead the tip of the sword master’s blade sank into Kirag’s shoulder before whipping back out.
Castien smirked. “Both of us are now blooded.”
The elf resumed the irritating pattern of sword motions, but this time he drew a second sword from his back and added it to the blur. The buzz grew to a high-pitched wail, and the elf gave Kirag a wicked smile.
The thought crossed Kirag’s mind that, for the first time in his life, he might have encountered a combatant who was as dangerous as he was.
But his rage
overrode his caution, and his vision clouded with red. Kirag kicked dirt in the elf’s face and sent a vicious strike into that buzzing maelstrom. His blade connected with one of the two swords, shattering the elf’s blade with the impact.
Kirag laughed.
And time seemed to slow.
The broken shards of the elven blade drifted to the ground… followed by the sword that had been in Kirag’s hand.
How odd, Kirag thought distantly.
He looked down. The pommel of a sword protruded from his chest.
The elf’s hand grabbed it and ripped it out. Rhythmic gushes of blood spurted from the wound. And as Kirag watched, the ground seemed to rush up toward him.
As he lay with his cheek in the dirt, he wondered why he felt so cold on a warm summer day.
He heard that buzzing sound again.
And then nothing more.
Poison
Arabelle hovered over her own body in the forest. Her mind was… cloudy. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here—or why her body lay on the ground before her, asleep.
And then she remembered the vision that had sent her on this visit to Aubgherle.
Yes. The vision. Details started to come back to her.
The vision had shown only the single assassin, and she’d been shocked when the chaos erupted around her. But she’d spotted the man in black armor, the one from her vision, running away with an empty crossbow strapped across his back, and she knew she couldn’t let him escape. Only after she’d chased him down and finished him off with a running slash at the neck did she realize that her guards had not followed her.
It then dawned on her that this was her opportunity to slip away and speak to Castien. She needed to tell him about the blue-eyed boy and his family, new to Trimoria, so Castien could help watch over them. And she needed to warn him that there were assassins crawling all over Aubgherle.
Her inner sight told him he was close.
She ran into the woods, following her inner sight. And then…
And then?
She couldn’t remember anymore.
And now she was looking down at herself, awake but not really awake, and she heard Castien’s melodious voice, and the clashing of steel, but saw nothing.
She willed her body to move, but nothing happened.
I can’t control my body if I’m not in it. Can I?
After a while—how long she wasn’t certain—Castien was there, visible now, kneeling over her body, gingerly turning it over. He felt at her neck and exhaled loudly in relief.
“I’m sorry I arrived too late to prevent this, poor girl.” He swiped his finger across the bridge of her nose, touched his tongue to his finger, and spit. “You’ve inhaled Tishkakh, the leaf of forgetfulness. I am not sure if you can hear me, but I need to check you to ensure you haven’t suffered any additional injuries.”
He began patting her carefully from head to toe. Strangely, though Arabelle was not in her body, she could feel his touches. Faintly.
He talked as he examined her. “My dreams were visited by Seder this morning. I thought I was going as crazy as old Xinthian, but now…” He shook his head. “Seder told me I would find you this day, and that when I did, I was to bring you to your father. He said you would die if he did not find you. I presume that means he is going to come looking for you.”
Apparently satisfied with his examination, Castien picked up her body and carried her through the forest. Arabelle drifted along behind.
“I would prefer to watch over you myself. I don’t know how much Tishkakh you inhaled, nor do I know if your father is aware of the poison that courses through your body. If he allows you to sleep…” Castien grimaced. “I will trust my dreams, but I will also keep watch from afar. I will not allow you to succumb, even if it means exposing myself to the human world.”
In the distance, Arabelle heard her father yelling her name.
Castien whispered, “Seder was right again. It is time, my pupil. I am leaving you in an open space. I will make sure your father finds you here.”
He placed her body under a tree, straightened her dress, and wiped away the leaves that had fallen in her hair. Then he vanished among the trees.
Her father’s shouts came closer. Arabelle wanted to call out to him, but couldn’t. How would he find her here if she could not tell him where she was?
A rock struck a nearby tree.
“Arabelle, is that you?”
Another rock struck the tree. Castien. He’s drawing Father closer, while staying hidden.
“Arabelle?”
Moments later, her father appeared. He ran to her body, knelt beside her, and lifted his head in praise. “Thank you, holy spirits, I’ve found her, just like you said I would.”
He put his hand on her forehead. “Don’t worry, my heart, I’ll get you some help. I even brought Logan to take us back.”
Arabelle drifted along behind as her father cradled her limp body in his arms and walked back to the edge of the forest, where the horse waited. Father balanced her across Logan’s back while he mounted. Logan began trotting across someone’s cultivated fields, Father holding her body in place with one hand and the reins with the other.
Arabelle had no trouble keeping up, but she wondered how she would ever get back into her body.
“Arabelle,” her father said, “I have a confession. When I was a child, I too used to have visions, like your mother.” He took a deep breath. “But then my mother died in an accident, and I cursed those powers for not giving me enough information to warn her. And with that curse, the visions left me. Until now.
“Soon after you left, I had a horrible feeling something would go wrong. I prayed for your safety. And I was struck by my first vision in thirty years. It told me to find you in the forest, where secrets would be unveiled. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have you with me again, just as my vision predicted.”
They passed the fields and Logan stepped onto a path.
“There’s a farmhouse up ahead!” Father said. “I’ll find out where the nearest surgeon is. You’ll be looked at immediately.”
He urged the horse forward, but in his anxious state he must have kicked the horse with too much intensity, and poor Logan reared up on his hind legs, sending both Father and Arabelle’s body onto the ground with a thump. The startled horse galloped away.
Two women hurried down from the farmhouse. One with brown hair, the other blonde and clearly pregnant. Arabelle recognized the pregnant woman—this was Gwen, the wife of Aubgherle’s Protector. Though it appeared Father didn’t know her, nor she him, for no look of recognition passed between them.
“What is wrong with you, sir?” snapped Gwen, wagging her finger. “You shouldn’t ride so recklessly—look what has happened!”
“I had no choice,” Father said. “It’s my daughter… she was lost in the woods. I went looking for her, and found her unconscious. She will not wake. She needs help immediately.”
“Why did you bring her here?” asked the brown-haired woman suspiciously.
“Your home is the first I saw upon exiting the forest. I had hoped you could direct me to a surgeon or physician. But that infernal horse—”
Gwen shook her head. “You’re one lucky man to have called upon this of all houses.”
The brown-haired woman knelt beside Arabelle’s body. “Tell me… in what position did you find her? Was anything lying on her, maybe a fallen limb?”
Father shook his head as he rose. “Nothing like that. She was leaning back against a tree, as if she’d sat back and fell asleep. Nothing had fallen on her. Not even a leaf.”
“I’ll need to look her over carefully before we do anything,” the brown-haired woman said. “If she were conscious, I could offer her a tonic, but as long as she remains like this…”
“Are you a physician, woman? Please, do whatever you feel is necessary.”
The woman began removing Arabelle’s dress. She stopped when she found the discolorations she carr
ied on her ribs from her encounter with the dragon. “It seems she’s been bitten by something poisonous. Are there snakes in the woods?”
Gwen answered. “There is only one poisonous snake known to live in those woods. A death adder. A single strike is said to kill within hours.”
Still hovering over the scene, Arabelle was impressed at how quickly they diagnosed her poison. Even if they had no idea that the poison had nothing to do with a snake.
The physician whispered something to Gwen, who nodded. “Do what you must. You cannot avoid using your gift, if it’s for a good cause.”
Gwen helped Father to his feet. “Come with me. Your daughter is in good hands, but Aubrey needs room to work.”
“But—”
“We are not leaving her. We are merely giving her a little space.”
Father allowed himself to be pulled back several feet.
Aubrey placed her hands on Arabelle’s body and closed her eyes. At first, she just sat there perfectly still. Then a breeze blew, and Arabelle felt her vantage point shift in an inexplicable way. And now she could see.
The woman’s hands glowed with a shimmering energy that crackled and spit with some preternatural force. The glow crept up her arms, and soon streams of energy erupted from the woman’s every pore. Those streams coalesced, coming together into a mass of sparkling white that hovered over her. The longer she concentrated, the larger the cloud grew.
Her father and Gwen were watching all this, Gwen patting Father’s hand in a comforting manner, but neither showed any reaction to the pyrotechnics taking place before them. Father gazed at his daughter with the same distraught look as before.
Can they not see what is going on? This woman is a wizard. She’s practicing magic on my body!
Aubrey shifted her posture slightly, and the sparkling cloud above her head stopped growing. Instead, it began to drain. Ribbons of scintillating white energy flowed out of the cloud, through the woman’s hands, and into Arabelle’s body.
Agent of Prophecy Page 22
