Serivar looked up and stared at Indigo for a long moment before turning a cutting gaze on Caplin. “Lady Indigo shouldn’t be on this list. She isn’t even third year and she certainly isn’t ready for this kind of campaign.”
“I tried not to add active students, but the available pool is limited given our timeline,” Caplin explained, prepared for resistance. “We’ve summoned healers from outside the city to fill in for instructors and full healers we’re taking from the academy, but we don’t know who will come and when. We can’t leave the city without skilled healers. I had eleven spots to fill. I selected the most qualified students to fill them based on instructor recommendations and information in your records.” Serivar started to shake his head and Caplin pressed on. “According to those resources, Indigo has excelled and is, I believe your exact words in the file were, ‘advanced beyond the abilities of many journeyman healers’.”
“I won’t allow it.” Serivar rolled the scroll.
She drew a breath to calm her nerves. “Would you excuse us a moment, Lord Caplin?”
Caplin’s brow pinched, but he nodded. “If you wish, my lady.”
“Please.”
When he was gone, she turned a frosty glare on Serivar.
He met the glare, his jaw tight and his eyes equally cold.
“The king doesn’t know about me, does he?”
Surprise slackened his expression for a second. Then he composed himself and waved a dismissive hand at her. “Don’t be foolish. Of course he knows.”
“For someone who touts the value of lying, you aren’t very good at it.”
He picked at a corner of the healer list, his jaw tight.
“Why haven’t you told him? What are you hiding?”
He stood and walked around the desk, stopping in front of her. She almost backed away, remembering his superior experience, but she wasn’t helpless anymore.
“Indigo, your strength is unequaled.” He grabbed her arms, feverish hunger in his eyes like a feral dog shown a slab of beef. “You have such potential. You can do things I’ve only theorized were possible. If I tell the council about you, they’ll take you from me and force you to be the weapon you’re so loath to become.”
A cold lump settled in the pit of her stomach. To what end was he training her then? She should tell the king. That was the right thing to do.
“What do you intend to use me for?”
“I only want you to realize your full potential. You must understand—”
“No!”
He fell silent and stepped back from the force of her rejection.
She knew what was right and she knew what she wanted. The two didn’t exactly work together. “I don’t want to understand. Not yet. Allow me to go with Caplin and I won’t tell King Jerrin what you’re doing behind his back.”
She felt him connect to his inner aspect and intercepted him, closing ascard in around him like a shield to block his ability. His eyes widened and color drained from his face. Panic twisted her gut. This was crazy, but it was too late to turn back.
“Don’t. I’m going to Lyra. This is what I want and I need you to help me prepare. Show me how to mask my ability better and build my defenses. When I return, I’ll work with you. No questions asked. Are we agreed?”
“Indigo.” He was pleading now. Fear and desperation shone in his eyes, but also desire ignited by her offer. “You don’t have the necessary control. Stay and let me teach you. Doing this now could be disastrous for you and for those around you.”
“I’ll manage. Sign the list.”
He stared, disabled by the barrier she had placed around him. She felt him testing it and met his eyes, daring him to fight her.
He surrendered. “I’ll sign it, but you must promise to keep your full strength and the things I’ve taught you hidden.”
“I go only as a healer.” She released him.
He trudged around behind his desk and signed the scroll.
She opened the door and called Caplin in.
Serivar handed him the scroll. “You have your healers.” He snarled the words and Caplin took the scroll cautiously, leery of his anger.
“Thank you, Lord Serivar.”
“Go.”
Caplin bowed to each of them and hurried out.
She bumped the door shut with her heel. “Shall we work on masking?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A mile from the stronghold, Yiloch had Ian reach ahead with the ascard. He wanted no surprises, but what the creator found was indeed a surprise. There were only three people at the stronghold. One of them he could identify as Hax from her ascard signature.
Yiloch halted the retinue.
Adran moved his mount close. “What’s wrong?”
They wouldn’t have moved the rest of the stronghold without good reason. He glanced at Ian. “Check again.”
The creator’s focus turned inward and they waited several minutes before he shook his head. “There’s no other signature of human life. I sense some horses in the stables.”
Yiloch kicked Tantrum up to a canter. The soldiers sped after him, sweeping up the narrow cliff path until the stronghold rose before them, nestled snug into the craggy mountainside. They slowed to a stop again a few yards from the wall.
The back gate was gone. Not standing open or busted in, but reduced to fragments. Piled splinters of wood and iron bordered cleared paths to the rear door of the stronghold and the stables. A grisly display greeted them, two heads hanging in small cages on either side of the entrance, Galen and Dalce, both recognizable despite the work of scavenging birds.
Yiloch cursed, venting a tiny fraction of the rage and anguish rising up inside him.
Hax emerged from the nearest stable and marched up to his horse, resting a hand on the stallion’s neck. She looked up at him a moment, but the weight of misery in her red-rimmed eyes pulled her gaze down.
“What happened?”
“Your father sent two hundred soldiers to visit. We had enough warning to get everyone out, but Galen and Dalce stayed to destroy evidence of your plans.” Her gaze flickered toward the gate and away. “They weren’t able to get out in time.”
Yiloch stared at Galen’s disfigured face, a portion of lip torn away, eye sockets picked clean. “Were they questioned?”
“No. I watched from the cliffs. I hoped to see them leave.” Her jaw tightened and she fell silent, blinking at moisture in her eyes.
Her grief helped him leash his fury. They depended on his leadership. He couldn’t afford to give into emotion the way he had when his mother was murdered. He wouldn’t repeat past mistakes.
Hax sounded hoarse when she continued. “One of Ferin’s adepts confirmed their deaths before the emperor’s men entered.”
His gaze touched on Dalce for a second and fury rose again, a caustic surge threatening to melt through his precarious calm. “Why haven’t those been taken down?”
“We buried the bodies, but Myac created those cages. Ferin feared a trap. Myac left something for you in your chamber as well.”
“Myac.” The name left a foul taste on his tongue. He reached out with his inner aspect and inspected the cages, but gave up quickly. His ability wasn’t strong enough to detect something Myac wanted hidden. “Ian, do what you can about those, but be careful. I would rather leave them than lose you.”
“Yes, my lord.” Ian dismounted. He leaned on his mount, staring at the ground, and swallowed hard, then clenched his fists by his sides and approached the nearest cage.
“Do we have our alliance?” Hax’s eyes shone with a desperate need for good news.
Yiloch gave a stiff nod, still fighting rage. Lashing out at one of his soldiers would serve no purpose. “We have our alliance with Caithin.”
“We’ll need them. Leryc didn’t exaggerate in his reports. Myac appears to hold considerable status now. The imperial soldiers parted before him like water before the bow of a ship. We should be wary of him.”
“Duly noted. I ma
y have found what we need to deal with him, but that’s a matter for later.” He swung from the saddle, handing Tantrum’s reins to a soldier. “Where are the others?”
Adran dismounted and followed them into the courtyard.
“We hid in the high valley until they left. After checking things over here, I sent the troops with Paulin and Eris to Lord Terral’s manor.”
He nodded approval. The manor would be the first gathering point for the heart of his army and his cousin, Lord Terral, had long been an ally.
“I need a new commander.” He glanced at Adran who shook his head. No surprise there. He had turned away promotion before, preferring to stay in his current role at Yiloch’s side, but he was only one of several good options. “You’ve been promoted, Commander Hax.”
“My lord.” She bowed. “You honor me.”
“It’s time to gather my army. Send word that we’re marching out from Murvid in nine days. Everyone who can is to gather there. The rest should prepare to march to one of the other rendezvous points. Use soldiers from my retinue as messengers if you need them.”
“Immediately, my lord.” She turned and strode toward the stables, then stopped and spun back to face him. “Speaking of your soldiers, where’s Cadmar?”
“I left him in Caithin. He’ll be guiding a troop of five hundred men and fifty healers to the southern rendezvous.”
Hax’s eyes lit with a spark of her usual ambition. “You got healers out of them?”
“It required some persuasion.”
“Did we get a naval distraction?”
“We did.”
Anger thundered in her eyes like a storm about to burst. “Dalce was eager to go to war with you. I won’t let him, or you, down.”
“I know you won’t.” Her defiant tone and fresh anger for the loss of his second stoked his thirst for vengeance.
Hax spun and resumed her march to the stables. He watched her go. How would she measure up in the role Dalce held for so long? Adran continued to turn the position away and, because of the comfort he took from having his old friend at his side, he would never force him into the role. Hax had the strength, the determination, and the leadership ability, but she didn’t have the experience.
She’ll get it soon enough.
Adran flanked him into the stronghold. The invading force touched very little. They had come for a specific purpose and wasted no time on pointless destruction. The only act of senseless violence so far was hanging of the heads by the gate and that was Myac’s handiwork. The adept had a reputation for brutality. Coming up empty-handed at the end of the long trek from the palace must have infuriated him. An opportunity to dishonor Yiloch’s men and pay him back for that disappointment was too tempting to pass up.
In Yiloch’s study, they found evidence of Dalce and Galen’s deaths. Given the amount of blood, both men had died there.
I don’t care how powerful Myac is, he will pay for this loss.
Adran stared at the bloodstained hole in the desk chair. “Your father obviously knows of your escape.”
“My sympathy to whoever broke him the news. I suspect Myac left here with no more knowledge than he came with. Father knows I’m free, but he doesn’t know where I am or what I’m doing. Let that mystery drive him mad for a while.” He smirked and traced the hole in the back of his chair with a finger. A sword blade made that hole, probably Dalce’s blade if they were dead before imperial soldiers reached them.
He looked at Adran. “We’re going to stay a few hours to rest before we strike out for Murvid. Advise the soldiers to take advantage of the time.”
“Consider it done.”
After he left, Yiloch continued to his private rooms. Everything was as he left it with one unsettling exception. At the head of the bed Dalce’s sword stuck up like a grave marker, the blade shoved through his pillow and into the mattress. He approached the sinister display. Something hung around the hilt, a silver chain his brother had always worn, dangling a blue stone pendant engraved with their family crest.
Myac misjudged him if he sought to incite Yiloch’s wrath over the death of his brother. He had shared his Father’s disdain for Delsan’s weak disposition to the point that he took Leryc under his wing in his brother’s place. There wasn’t enough love between them that he cared to mourn or seek vengeance for that loss. The sword was another matter. To have Dalce’s sword used in an obvious threat against him insulted the man’s memory, but he didn’t dare touch it. Nothing Myac touched was worth the risk. If Ian solved the problem of the cages outside the gate, he would have him check this.
Turning his back on the sword and chain, he rummaged through his wardrobe, collecting things he wanted. With a bundle of items in hand, he walked a few doors down to Adran’s room. It would suffice for a short rest before they moved on again. He set his things on a dresser inside the door.
Adran entered behind him. “This room looks strangely familiar, as if I may have been here before.”
“It’s the second nicest room in the stronghold and there’s no sword embedded in the pillow. I’m moving in for a few hours.”
Adran grimaced. “The something Myac left you?”
Yiloch didn’t answer. He’d had enough talk of Myac for now.
“Do you care if I also take my rest here?”
He shrugged. “It’s your bed.”
Hax bumped Adran into the room and stood in the doorway. “My lord.”
“Yes.”
“I sent riders out to our allies. I thought I would ride ahead to Murvid unless you need me here.”
“Thank you, Hax.” He took off his jacket and started to unlace his shirt. “It would be wise to ride ahead and warn Terral that we’re coming.”
Her eyes narrowed. She strode forward, her hand snaking out to snag the ring hanging around his neck and hold it up into the light. “This looks like a woman’s ring.”
Yiloch rubbed his forehead wearily. He’d forgotten about the ring.
Adran glanced over and sighed melodramatically. “We lost him to a Caithin girl.”
Yiloch glared at him.
Hax let the ring fall back against his chest and met his eyes. “You haven’t fallen in love have you?”
He scowled. “I don’t have time for love.”
“Since when did love care about time?” A tired smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Is she pretty?”
“For a woman.” Adran grinned.
Yiloch exhaled and walked to the bed. The discussion was absurd and he would have no further part in it. Without a word, he kicked off his boots, stripped off his sword belt, and reclined on the bed, closing his eyes to let them know they he was ignoring them.
“A Caithin though?” Hax asked.
“Yes. A Caithin healer no less.” Adran used a suggestive tone meant to taunt him.
“I’ve got to give you credit, my lord, finding time to court a woman while arranging an alliance to destroy your father. That’s skill.”
He clenched his teeth as Hax laughed.
“Isn’t it.”
The amusement in Adran’s voice prompted him to open his eyes, glaring a warning at his old friend then turning his cold gaze on Hax. “I thought you were riding to Murvid.”
“Indeed, my lord. I was only catching up on court gossip.” She winked and offered an exaggerated bow before turning to Adran. “Perhaps we can chat more in Murvid.”
“Love to.” Adran gave her an exaggerated feminine wave.
“Oh. I almost forgot. Your armor is in Murvid. We took everything out before the attack.” With that abrupt announcement, she left.
Adran flopped onto the bed next to him, still smirking.
“You don’t believe the foolishness you were spouting, do you?”
“Who knows you better than I do?”
Yiloch gave him a cross look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Adran rolled over, putting his back to Yiloch.
With a shake of his head, Yiloch closed his eyes. At leas
t they’d found something to take their minds off recent losses for a short time. Too bad it wasn’t something else.
*
Ian managed to deconstruct the created traps on the cages and they buried the heads before departing. At his determination that there was no trap worked into the display in Yiloch’s rooms, Yiloch pocketed the pendant and wrapped the sword in a cloth that he strapped on his saddlebags.
He motioned Ian up beside him as they left the stronghold behind. “If you have the energy, an illusion to disguise at least myself and Adran would be useful. The fewer interruptions, the faster we get to Murvid.”
Ian nodded, his gaze on the path ahead. “I can handle it. Anything else, my lord?”
Yiloch watched the creator until Ian turned and met his eyes. “Thank you for working out the cages.”
The youth bowed his head, muscles in his jaw jumping. “I had to. They deserved that much.”
“They did.” Yiloch faced forward, giving him privacy for his sorrow.
Ian stayed beside him this time instead of falling back with his cousin. Yiloch approved. The creator needed to be a partner more than a servant. With his skill in creation, the boy could be a great asset, but his timidity drove Yiloch to dismiss him in the past. A mistake he would pay for through lack of rapport in coming battles. He would do what he could to remedy that in the time they had.
*
They covered the last miles to the manor a few days later in a misty drizzle that soaked through their clothes. When they topped the last rise overlooking Terral’s valley, Yiloch dreaded seeing an army in the making that would be obvious to any travelers. What he saw instead sent a spear of panic through him. They stopped at the top of the hill. The valley below with its many outbuildings and massive manor house appeared deserted.
Yiloch opened his mouth to voice his alarm when Ian grinned. “Absolutely beautiful.”
He suspected the comment wasn’t born of an admiration for soggy farmland. “What?”
“The illusion. I almost missed it. It’s…” He trailed off before Yiloch’s bewildered look. “Sorry, my lord. Here.”
Dissident (Forbidden Things Book 1) Page 23
