Siege and Sacrifice (Numina)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

  Rone stiffened. Stood. After escaping Kazen, Sandis had refused to break her script because she was certain Ireth was trying to tell her something. She’d been right.

  “Tell me.” Rone stepped closer. “Who you once were. What do you mean?”

  I was Ireth, the numen replied. Before my body changed. I forgot for a time, but I remembered.

  Despite the lack of cold, gooseflesh trailed down Rone’s arms and back. “Remembered what?”

  Ireth shifted on his legs until he faced Rone fully. That I was once human, too.

  Chapter 16

  Had it not been for the soldiers, Sandis would never have gotten Rist and Bastien back to Triumvir Var’s home. She should have been relieved to have her friend back, to know Kazen could no longer haunt her, but tendrils of fear coiled around her heart.

  Even without Kazen’s bidding, Kolosos had hidden Anon again, and the soldiers couldn’t find him.

  Why hide Anon if the beast didn’t mean to return?

  And so, while pockets of the city hesitantly celebrated, the mood in Triumvir Var’s home was thick and dark. Sandis had shared her fears, and Oz before her. Everyone was too afraid to relax, even Jachim.

  And as if that weren’t enough, Sandis had nearly gotten Bastien killed.

  Medically trained soldiers, then doctors, saw to Bastien immediately upon their arrival. The death of Kazen and the casualties the army had suffered were distracting enough that no one had yet punished Sandis for insubordination. She doubted the night would have played out much differently, were she in Oz’s hands. Except Rist might be dead. At least they had managed to save him.

  Standing in the corner of their shared bedroom, watching as men cleansed, treated, and wrapped Bastien’s burns . . . she knew she’d never forgive herself. She had failed her city, she had failed Anon, and she had failed Bastien.

  The burns marred the side of Bastien’s head, a bit of his neck, his left shoulder and arm, and his left hip, but the doctor had said he’d recover. It was pure luck that the fiery blow hadn’t also struck Sandis and Rist. Without a numen to protect them, they would have died instantly. For now, Bastien was bedridden, and Rist slumbered in the deathlike trance that followed a summoning, unscathed by their misadventure.

  It was on Triumvir Var’s order that Sandis left her friends for the study, hugging herself so she wouldn’t fall apart in front of so many.

  A familiar pressure resonated in her skull, lasting the length of a breath before fading. She clung to it and the sliver of comfort it offered. Please take care of him, Ireth.

  If only Rone could communicate with her. Or she with him. Could she summon him the way she summoned Ireth? The idea was as tempting as it was ridiculous.

  But she’d already proven to be a poor summoner. Those burns . . .

  She barely registered walking into the study, once again full with the triumvirs, Chief Esgar and General Istrude, Oz, Jachim, the priests and priestess. A soldier shut the door behind her, startling her to the present.

  “So it’s not over,” Triumvir Holwig said. He seemed to be the only rested person of the lot.

  No one else moved to answer, so Sandis did, her shoulders hunched. “I don’t know.”

  “This was what we discussed,” Triumvir Peterus pointed out, his voice gruffer than usual. “Kill Kazen or take the amarinth.”

  But Sandis shook her head.

  Triumvir Var’s eyebrow twitched. “Stop moping and spit it out, woman.”

  Sandis curled in on herself. “Except we didn’t kill Kazen, Kolosos did. That . . . That changes everything.” She rubbed the gooseflesh sprouting on her arms. “I know Kazen. I cannot believe he would choose to end his glory with suicide, as many believe. It’s unlike him, to say the least.”

  The chief of police folded his arms across his scarlet-clad chest, frowning.

  “I admit,” Oz grumbled from the corner, “that I agree with Sandis. It’s out of character for him. And Kolosos . . .” He met Sandis’s eyes. “It was autonomous after its summoner’s death.”

  General Istrude said, “We’re aware.”

  “It fought Kazen, too.” Sandis knit her fingers together. “Kolosos was immobile for so long. Do you really think Kazen forced it to stand, waiting, until there was a large enough audience for his demise? I think”—she swallowed—“I think Kolosos was resisting him.”

  “And struck back as soon as it got the chance,” Oz added.

  The room was quiet for a moment. Opposite Oz, Jachim took rigorous notes, his hands smeared with ink. Sandis wondered if he’d slept at all since this had begun.

  “But,” Triumvir Var spoke carefully, “why would a numen, even if it is sentient, kill its summoner? To return to its resting place in the ethereal plane? Perhaps it didn’t enjoy being a puppet.”

  Oz snorted. All three triumvirs and the general shot him a strained look.

  He shook his head, as though recovering from a good joke. “Why do you think the monsters let us summon them in the first place? They have no bodies. They’re mere spirits, which is why they live where they live. Think about it. Everything we feel, see, experience, is through our flesh. The numina come down to have it. None can resist it.”

  Jachim nearly spilled his ink vial. “Incredible theory.” He flipped a page and wrote with renewed vigor.

  “I must believe,” said Priestess Marisa, the first to speak among the Celesians who sat nestled in chairs away from the table, “that Kazen chose to repent. That he saw the horrors of his actions and ended his life because of them.”

  Hunched beside her, Cleric Liddell muttered something Sandis couldn’t interpret.

  High Priest Dall put a hand on his shoulder. “What was that, my son?”

  Cleric Liddell shook his head. “No . . . he didn’t.”

  Priestess Marisa’s brow twitched. “Must you believe the worst?”

  But Cleric Liddell squeezed his hands together, his eyes on the floor.

  Hesitant, Sandis said, “Sister Marisa, if Kazen meant to repent . . . why did he scream?”

  A thick hush blanketed the room, suffocating them all for long seconds until Oz said, “And yet . . . Triumvir Var has a point. In killing its summoner, it condemned itself to the ethereal plane, did it not?”

  “Then why run? Why hide yet again?” General Istrude asked the very questions that had plagued Sandis for hours.

  Both the general and Oz looked to Sandis as though she could answer. She could summon Ireth into herself . . . but could the bond between human and vessel work the other way? Could a numen summon itself into the world?

  “Anon,” she whispered.

  “How powerful is this amarinth?” Triumvir Var asked, then, leaning back in his chair, added, “Pull men from Gerech. Esgar, assemble a team to venture north. Find the vessel and the amarinth! Scour everything. Put an end to these damnable questions. Istrude, I want your militia ready, just in case we’re right. Damn, I’ve never wanted to be wrong more in my life.” He ran a hand down his face.

  Hesitant, General Istrude said, “My men are weary and weak.”

  “They can have until noon to recover. The police can fill in until then. The rest of you remain on call.” His glare shot to Sandis. “I want no one to leave unless ordered to, do you understand? The same goes for you four.” He glanced at the Celesians in the corner, and the Angelic, who remained silent as stone. Triumvir Var stood, his back popping. “And I want word the moment the vessels awaken.”

  Rist woke first. The moment a pained groan passed his lips, Sandis leapt to his side, her summoning meditation forgotten. She couldn’t focus anyway, let alone believe she could reach Rone. She had everything ready for Rist—food, water, even medicine Jachim had kindly secured for her, before she barred the door with a chair to keep the government, and Oz, out, if only for a few minutes.

  “Rist?” She said his name gently, knowing summoning sickness could make one sensitive to sound. Celestial, please let him listen to me, and recover. Please let him not hat
e me.

  Rist’s eyes peeled open. They were so bloodshot there was more red than white. His skin was paler than usual, his nails cracked, his hair streaked gray. Kazen had been summoning Kuracean every day. It had taken a physical toll on Rist.

  What was it doing to Anon?

  Sandis tried, futilely, to shake the worry from her head. Chief Esgar had a party still searching for Anon. Rone had Ireth. Bastien had Triumvir Var’s doctor to oversee his care. Right now, there was nothing she could do for them, and she’d do best to concern herself with what was in front of her.

  If only her frail heart could agree.

  “Rist?” she tried again, taking a half-full cup from the nightstand and pressing it to his palm. It took him a moment to close his fingers around it. “Rist, it’s Sandis. You’re with me. You’re safe. Kazen is gone.”

  He blinked again, dark orbs shifting toward Sandis. He stared at her long enough that she noticed a few white hairs in his eyebrows and eyelashes.

  Then he bolted upright, promptly spilling both the water and the meager contents of his stomach.

  Sandis worked efficiently, grabbing the corners of his blanket and tying them together, whisking away the vomit and setting it by the door. She picked up the cup, which rested against Rist’s foot, and refilled it from a pitcher.

  “Here, drink.” She put the cup in his fingers, which trembled slightly. Rist drank, slowly at first, then greedily. She refilled the cup twice, the last time slipping pain powder into it.

  Pressing his palm to his forehead, Rist said, “Where am I?”

  “Triumvir Var’s house.”

  He straightened then, looking at Sandis as though seeing her for the first time. He took in his surroundings slowly, eyes wide, stopping at Bastien, who lay an arm’s width away from him, still unconscious, still nude beneath his blanket, save for his bandages. Guilt trickled through Sandis like cold rain.

  Rist looked at himself, taking in the scabbing bruise on the inside of his elbow, and then shifted his gaze once more to Sandis. After a moment of heavy breathing, he croaked, “How?”

  “We came for you when Kolosos attacked last night,” she explained, soft and slow, watching his face. He seemed solidly startled. “Bastien and I. Kazen was killed.”

  His lips parted. “You killed him?”

  She shook her head. “Kolosos did.”

  Rist turned away, considering. His stomach growled, but when Sandis offered him bread and butter, he refused it with a shake of his head.

  “That monster,” he murmured. “I knew that monster would kill him. It’s smart, Sandis. It knows . . .” He swallowed and looked at her again. “I . . . I wanted to make a deal with Kazen. The amarinth for emigration papers. He took everything—”

  His voice squeezed off, and Sandis had the twisting feeling that it was not merely the thought of his renewed captivity that had spiked his emotion, but the memory of what had happened the last time they’d all been together.

  Sandis would never forget the look of betrayal on his face when they’d told him of Kaili’s brutal death. Never.

  Her guilt intensified.

  Rist massaged his face, then let out a sigh. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “You’re our friend, Rist.” She formed each word with care. “Of course we came for you.”

  His mouth tightened. He disagreed, she knew, but at least he was talking. He held out his hand, and Sandis put the bread in it. He took a small bite before saying, “I guess this is my fault.”

  “It’s Kazen’s. But he’s gone now.” She glanced at Bastien. Would the scars he’d sustained be too severe for him to summon Mahk after this? Would he want to?

  Would he forgive her?

  Rist shook his head. Took another bite, then a third. “He was insane, Sandis, and he was wrong, too. That monster can’t be controlled like other numina. It’s not over. I can’t explain . . . but it’s not over.”

  Sandis nodded, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “Anon. Is he . . . all right?”

  Rist looked at her like she’d just spoken Serranese. “Who?”

  Her stomach dropped. “My brother. Kolosos’s host.”

  His eyes widened once more. “That’s your brother?” He glanced away, shaking his head. “I . . . I never heard his name. I . . . I don’t know. I think I saw him awake maybe once.”

  Sandis nodded, trying not to crumble at the slim, sad information.

  The room grew stale.

  “We keep dying. All of us,” Rist murmured, picking apart his bread. He glanced at Bastien, then at the door. “Where’s Rone?”

  Sandis’s heart hit the floor, but after a drink of water, she managed to tell him.

  Chapter 17

  Rone’s mouth was dry, and it wasn’t from the heat spilling off the horse demon. He tried to speak, but words, voice, even thought failed him.

  Human?

  I did not remember for a long time, Ireth said, his hooves tapping faintly on the crystalline ground beneath them as he walked toward the muted light that danced through the glassy plane, a strange imitation of the sun. I lost myself, as the others have. But I stayed near. I watched your ancestors. I learned their tongue and their ways, and I slowly came back to myself. I remembered.

  Rone accumulated enough saliva in his mouth to swallow. “Wh-Who are you?”

  The horse lifted his head, black eyes shimmering. I am Ireth. I am a captain and defender to my chief. My time was over long before yours began, Rone Comf.

  Rone’s knees buckled, and his backside collided hard with the ground beneath him. “You’re Noscon, aren’t you?”

  Ireth gave a subtle nod. We all were. Until Kaj.

  Rone shook his head, his heart thudding. “Kaj?”

  Yes. Ireth studied the stars beneath him. He is the one you call Kolosos.

  “No,” Triumvir Peterus said, looking up from the meat-heavy meal before him. He, Jachim, and a handful of soldiers ate at Triumvir Var’s table. Where Triumvir Var and Oz had gone, Sandis wasn’t sure. The Celesian leaders had been back and forth among local churches, trying to calm the faithful. “I have only received the one message I gave you earlier. They’ve found nothing in the northlands but the end of Kolosos’s tracks.”

  Pressing her lips together until they hurt, Sandis nodded and retreated back up the stairs to her room. She hadn’t told anyone other than Rist and Bastien that Anon was her brother, but she had insinuated earlier that, as a vessel, she might be of use in finding Kolosos’s host. It wasn’t entirely a lie—vessels could sense active numina, though it was an unnecessary ability when their quarry loomed as large as a tower. No one had disputed her, thankfully. She couldn’t stand the idea of information regarding Anon being kept from her.

  It was dusk, and Chief Esgar’s team had been searching all day. They had followed a charred trail some ways outside the wall, but it had dwindled into nothing. No Anon, and no amarinth. Which meant Kolosos hadn’t simply petered out.

  Anon, where are you? She paused outside her room and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, focusing on the ache of the pressure instead of the heat that threatened tears.

  This house brimmed with people, yet Sandis felt achingly alone.

  She’d had Rone for so short a time. His absence shouldn’t hurt this much.

  Why did the world take away everything she loved?

  Rone is strong, she reminded herself for what had to be the hundredth time. Rone can take care of himself. Ireth is with him. You can’t give up yet. It’s not over.

  Spots appeared in her vision, but she didn’t remove her hands. She couldn’t, not until she got a hold of herself. Not until she could look Bastien and Rist in the eyes and tell them, truthfully, that she believed they’d get out of this alive.

  If she could look Bastien in the eyes at all.

  Taking a deep breath, then another, Sandis pulled her hands from her face and blinked until her sight cleared. Then she opened the door.

  Bastien sat up in bed, picking at a pla
te of food on his lap. From this angle, he looked perfectly normal, but the moment Sandis walked around the bed, she’d see the bandages and the angry red skin poking up from them. There was no sign of Rist.

  She swallowed hard.

  Bastien glanced over and offered a weak smile. His hair was unbound and flowed freely over his shoulders; he’d only lost the bit above his left ear in the blast.

  Clearing her throat, Sandis approached. “How are you feeling?”

  “Same as the last time you asked me.” He shrugged, then winced.

  She knelt on the floor and rested her elbows on the mattress. “I’m so sorry, Bastien—”

  “Sandis, stop apologizing.”

  “But if it weren’t for—”

  “Sandis.” He put his unscathed hand on her arm. “Every t-time you apologize, I have to repeat myself. ‘It’s not your fault. I knew what could happen.’ And I’m getting really tired of repeating myself.”

  Sandis tried to mimic his weak smile, but struggled to.

  “Triumvir Var has a lot of fancy medicine. It honestly doesn’t hurt that m-much.” He speared a carrot on his plate. “If nothing else, it makes me more char-ming.”

  Sandis gaped at him. He raised an eyebrow.

  She let out a long, choked breath that was almost a laugh. “How long did it take you to think of that one?”

  “I’ve got a few saved up. But don’t tell anyone—I want to use that one again.”

  Pushing herself upright, Sandis glanced around the room. “Where’s Rist?” Fear spiked the question. Had he run off a second time?

  “In the kitchen, I think.” Bastien shoved the carrot into his mouth. He pushed it against his cheek and added, “I hope he doesn’t burn anything.”

  Sandis’s breath caught, and her throat grew tight. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

  “Sandis, no.” Bastien set the plate aside and sat up straighter, wincing once more. “Just a joke.”

  When she felt steady, she crossed the room and kissed Bastien on the top of his head. “You’re a good friend, Bastien.” She stepped back and rubbed the discomfort building in her stomach, the guilt that had settled there like bad meat. “Do . . . you want me to braid your hair?”