“Indigo,” Siddael shouted after her.
She ignored him.
The link to Yiloch remained active to a point near where he had been, which meant a barrier of some sort interrupted it, but he was still alive. She pointed the horse in that direction, plunging through the rear defensive line with the element of surprise in her favor. While the animal charged out into darkness, she erected barriers around them to protect them from physical attack and ascard detection. The horse stumbled over a body and she lost one stirrup as it half-fell, but it caught itself and barreled onward, driving forward in response to her intensity. She got her foot in the stirrup seconds before the animal’s shoulder struck someone as they charged past, sending the soldier reeling. She didn’t notice if they were friend or foe, nor did she care.
Where he should have been, she saw nothing until she pushed through illusions the enemy adepts had established, then she made out five mounted men closing in around a lone figure. Yiloch still stood, but he had a crossbow bolt in his right shoulder and his sword hung loose in his left hand. The four creators had constructed a barrier around him, preventing him from moving or connecting to ascard. The fifth man was reloading his crossbow.
With a tendril of ascard, she bored through the barrier and enclosed Yiloch with a barrier of her own the same way she had enclosed the eggshell in her training with Serivar.
Under the nose guard of his helmet, she could see the fifth man smile as he leveled the crossbow at Yiloch’s head. If they were aware of her approach, they didn’t seem concerned. They were here to kill the prince and their task was nearly done.
Using the same method she used in training, she shoved out with all of the ascard energy she could draw upon. The push slammed into the five men and their mounts, throwing them away from Yiloch. Her horse reared and twisted, panicking as the nearest creator and his mount came flying at them. When the terrified animal started to fall, she leapt from the saddle, somehow landing on her feet. Then she staggered, falling to her knees on someone’s back as the drain of her efforts crashed down on her. The someone didn’t move. The ascard signature of the five riders and their horses had vanished, but Yiloch, her link to him restored, was clear and strong.
An arm caught her, keeping her from collapsing among bodies on the ground.
“Indigo.”
His voice, rough with pain and concern, filled her with a sense of validation. The shaft of the crossbow bolt still protruded from his arm and blood darkened the leather of his armor. His sword hilt pressed into her back as he lifted her to her feet and pain from that effort burned in his eyes. She longed to help, but her body wouldn’t respond. He drew her close with his good arm and she felt him gathering ascard energy. Panic burst through her when she realized what he meant to do, but overexertion spiraled her into darkness before she could protest.
*
Yiloch heard the enemy call for retreat as he pulled on ascard. The instant loss of four creators and their commander devastated them. Pain from the bolt in his shoulder lanced through him and Indigo hung awkward in his good arm. He stared at her, trying to comprehend what she’d done. The power behind it terrified him almost more than the understanding that he would be dead if she hadn’t intervened. He didn’t have strength to carry her back, but if he could gather enough ascard, he might transfer them both back that way.
“Yiloch!”
“Hax.” He looked up at his commander. Concern furrowed her brow. “Give chase. Take down as many as you can, but don’t follow far. I don’t want you charging into an ambush.”
She spun her mount. Raising her sword, she let out a piercing battle cry and charged. The soldiers on the field rallied to her.
Yiloch focused on the camp. He’d moved himself that far before, but he’d never moved two people at once. Right now, he wanted Indigo safe and wasn’t capable of getting her there any other way. Drawing on every reserve, he made the swap. They appeared in the camp next to the line of wounded. Yiloch sank to his knees, Indigo clutched to his side. Siddael fell upon them instantly. He put a hand on Yiloch’s shoulder to steady him and knelt, laying his other hand against Indigo’s throat. The master healer exhaled in relief.
“You!” Siddael gestured to someone behind him. “Help me get the prince to his tent. You!” He pointed to someone else. “Carry her.”
Strong arms helped Yiloch to his feet and someone took Indigo. He stared after her unconscious form as they carried her away. She saved his life, killing five men and their horses in one stunning attack. He wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or grateful, but he understood Ian now. Her power scared him.
In his tent, they helped him out of his armor and Siddael had him stretch on his bed. He laid a hand on Yiloch’s head. Darkness descended.
*
When Yiloch woke, he made a mental note to forbid healers from putting him to sleep. Hax’s charge might have come upon an ambush or retreating opposition might have mustered for another attack. Neither of those things happened this time, but he was the leader of this army and his disappearance at the wrong moment could be devastating.
Hax left a soldier to report when he woke that they had killed or captured over a hundred imperial soldiers. Their losses were minimal. The force sent against them hadn’t been large. It was designed to isolate and kill him then retreat. They’d almost succeeded. If not for Indigo, the war would be over.
Caplin stormed into his tent after dawn. “What happened out there?”
Yiloch moved his shoulder, stretching it with care. Siddael promised another healing, maybe two, would have it as good as new. “How is Lady Indigo?”
Caplin glared at him. “She’s resting. Answer my question. Why was Indigo on the battlefield?”
“I don’t know. It was chaotic as battles often are.”
“You’re hiding something and as long as it involves her, I won’t let it go.”
Yiloch met his furious glare unflinchingly. The Caithin lord could rage and accuse as much as he wished, he’d faced down far more intimidating opponents.
Hax stepped into the tent. “Prince Yiloch, pardon the interruption, but I must speak with you.”
He nodded to her before addressing Caplin again. “I have no command over Lady Indigo. If you take exception to something she’s done, Lord Caplin, perhaps you should confront her. You may go.”
Caplin stormed out. Yiloch felt a little guilty sending him to Indigo, but it was her place to decide how to deal with him. It was her secret.
“What is it, Commander?”
“I’ve been asked several times what happened last night. I know what I saw and I know you didn’t do that. Fortunately, few others saw anything and those who did aren’t sure what they saw.” She lowered her gaze. “I also know that I failed you—”
“Stop. My father made a bold move and it almost worked. But I’m still here this morning and our losses were negligible. They lost four powerful creators and a commander along with a number of soldiers. Those losses followed by the Caithin naval attack will shake their confidence. I don’t need you bemoaning any perceived failings. I need you moving forward with me. Is that clear?”
She lifted her head, her stubborn devotion rising to the surface, as he’d known it would. “Yes, my lord.”
“Good. Do what you can to brush over the incident. Talk it down. We’ve more important things to focus on. Where’s Indigo?”
“In Lord Caplin’s tent.”
“Have Ian keep watch and come get me when Caplin isn’t around.”
“An illicit rendezvous?”
Yiloch gave her a stern look. “She saved my life. I’d like to thank her.”
“And you’ve always been generous with your thanks.” Hax winked. “It shall be done, my lord.”
He settled to wait, taking advantage of the time to rest. When Ian arrived to let him know Caplin was away, he was refreshed if still quite sore.
“Ian, I must speak with Lady Indigo privately. I need you to create a sound barrier once I�
�m in the tent.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Let’s go then.”
Outside, Yiloch strode to Caplin’s tent, keeping an eye out for the Caithin lord or anyone else who might be inclined to interfere. They covered the short distance fast and slipped inside. Ian waited inside the tent entrance as Yiloch continued to one of the divided sections. He drew back the flap to find Siddael sitting on a blanket next to the makeshift cot on which Indigo lay.
“Has she stirred?” Did her breathing change when he spoke?
“She hasn’t woken, my lord.” Siddael’s eyes brimmed with questions that his sense of propriety kept him from asking. “How is your shoulder?”
“Sore, but mobile. Might I speak with her?”
“Caplin asked that you not wake her.”
He suspected Caplin was more adamant than that about his visiting her, but the master healer had a less confrontational way of interpreting things. “I can sense that she’s awake.”
“Liar.” She opened her eyes, earning a start from Siddael. “You didn’t sense a thing.”
He smiled, relieved by the vitality in her eyes. “Your breathing changed.”
She gave Siddael a hopeful look. “Might we have a moment, Master Siddael?”
“How do you feel?”
“I have a miserable headache and my sleep was plagued with nightmares,” she replied, her voice strained.
“I can help with one of those problems.” Siddael put a hand to her head and she grimaced then smiled her gratitude.
“Thank you.”
He nodded and stood. “You have fifteen minutes.”
When Siddael left them, Yiloch took his place next to her. A plague of distress stormed in her eyes that she’d managed to hide in Siddael’s presence.
“I’ve never killed anyone before.”
“You made quite a spectacle of your first several.” She gave him a sharp look and he smiled warmly. “You saved my life.”
“I had to. No one else would have gotten there in time.” She reached out and touched his face. He caught her hand, kissing the fingers, his fear of her power fading before the pleasure of her company.
“How did you know?”
“I could feel everything. Every life that was snuffed out around you, isolating you, the approach of the four creators and that other man.” She shuddered.
Was it the trauma of killing someone or did she dread losing him that much? Whatever it was, more than a sense of duty motivated her.
“Then my link to you went silent.”
Link? It took him a second then he recalled what she said about the enemy adept being linked to someone else. “You linked me?” Anger flared at her uninvited intrusion. “Like the link you found on Ladon?”
She gave him a tolerant, almost motherly, smile, apparently not impressed by his irritation. Her poise was disconcerting. “Don’t look so annoyed. It allowed me to keep track of you so I could help when you needed it. Besides, you couldn’t have stopped me.”
It chilled him how true those words were. In ascard power, he was no match for her. The link made him subject to her supervision, an invasion of his privacy, but it also provided him valuable protection in their current situation and the concern it represented moved him.
He leaned over, catching her by surprise with a kiss. She responded willingly, sliding her hand under his hair and holding him close as she opened her mouth to him. When they parted, pleasure had replaced the distress in her eyes. He wanted her so much, but they couldn’t get away with that here. He took her hand, settling for that limited contact while he considered her.
“I don’t understand why King Jerrin would let someone with such a strong ability come here. You should be too valuable an asset to risk on something like this.”
She averted her gaze, her expression turning dark. “The king doesn’t know about me.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why wouldn’t he? Ascard users are carefully controlled in Demin.”
“I…” She paused, chewing at her lip. “Headmaster Serivar is training me in secret. He wants to find out what I am capable of without someone else supervising the process. I used that to blackmail him into letting me come. The more I think about it, the more I fear that he may be training me for some nefarious purpose.”
“He may be.”
She started to sit up and he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“I should tell Caplin.”
He shook his head. Whatever the headmaster intended for her, right now, she was his secret weapon and he wasn’t willing to lose that. “Not yet.”
“But he could be planning something awful.”
“Or he could be simply curious to find out what you’re capable of. Besides, if he does intend to use you for something, he can’t do it while you’re here.” She looked skeptical and he smiled. “Trust me.”
“Trust you? Like when I trusted you and almost got eaten by a monstrous hound?” She smiled sadly before he could come to his own defense and said, “I do trust you, though I probably shouldn’t.”
“My lord.” Ian poked his head in. “Master Siddael is returning.”
As Ian retreated, they kissed again, lingering longer than was probably wise. They’d already caused themselves trouble with Caplin through inability to keep away from one another. Yiloch drew away reluctantly and stood. The tent flap opened and he stepped out of the master healer’s way.
“Thank you, Lady Indigo.” He caught her eyes for a moment.
“Of course, Prince Yiloch.” The slightest hint of frustration, a frustration he shared, came through in her voice.
“Master Siddael.” He nodded to the healer.
“One moment, Prince Yiloch.” Siddael laid his hands over the injured shoulder. Heat and pain flared then faded to a dull ache. Siddael nodded and stepped back. “Once more, this evening.”
“Thank you.”
The healer nodded.
Yiloch joined Ian outside the tent.
“All well, my lord?” Ian asked as they walked away.
“She’ll be ready to march on the city.”
“Why don’t we send her in? She can kill everyone and we can clean up when she’s done.” Yiloch gave him a severe look and he shrugged. “Just a thought.”
“She may be powerful, but she isn’t invincible.”
“My lord!” Paulin jogged up to them.
“What news?”
“A messenger arrived from the coast. Caithin’s navy is almost in position. They plan to attack the port and outer wall at dusk.”
“Excellent. Start assembling troops.”
I hope you’re ready, Indigo. Right or wrong, I intend to use your power.
Guilt accompanied the thought of putting her in danger yet again, but he had a goal, and she was proving to be the greatest single tool at his disposal.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
"Myac!”
The sitting room door flew open and Rylan stormed in, his face an unfortunate shade of crimson. Myac held back a sneer as he rose from the couch and bowed. Two haggard looking men trailed the emperor, one a soldier with drying blood caked down his arm and the other one of the adepts who had gone after Yiloch.
“Things didn’t go as planned, I take it.” Myac barely kept the cynicism from his tone. How could they have failed? Yiloch should be dead. Again, the blasted prince thwarted him. Or was it the failing morale of troops who no longer trusted their leader? Both, perhaps.
“Not exactly! Yiloch was ready for the assault and someone killed all four of my creators and Commander Nyak with a single attack. Why wasn’t I warned?”
A chill ran through him, sudden anxiety forming a knot in his gut. “That’s not possible. Someone highly sensitive might have detected the approaching host and warned Yiloch, but the prince’s strongest is that boy creator. He couldn’t have taken down your creators, not all four of them and certainly not with a single attack.”
Rylan gestured to the adept behind him, his eyes glazed over wi
th exhaustion. The man didn’t fight when Myac dove into his mind with probe of ascard.
“What happened?” He demanded.
“We proceeded as planned,” the adept replied in numb monotone. “Yiloch was split off from his troops. The creators surrounded and blocked him. Commander Nyak was with them. It should’ve been over. Then someone attacked, killing all of them, even their horses. They were flung back several yards from the prince like children’s toys.”
Myac wanted to call him a liar, but the link to his mind showed that he believed every word. “If the creators had him blocked, why didn’t they kill him?”
“Commander Nyak wanted the honor of killing the emperor’s son.”
Myac sucked in a breath, mastering frustration even as the emperor’s anger blasted him. It made no sense. “Yiloch has no one that strong. I would have sensed it even with the barriers they have shielding their camp.”
He stared at the adept. It couldn’t have been one person. They couldn’t hide that kind of power. Through barriers laid over the camp, he could still sense the young creator and several others with strong abilities. Perhaps, if several of Yiloch’s adepts synchronized an attack… But how could they time it so perfectly?
Rylan watched him, pale eyes alight with anger, waiting for an explanation. Myac was at a loss and he hated it. Nothing made sense. With the creators they sent, Yiloch should have fallen. They were the emperor’s strongest, as were the adepts who accompanied them. The only possible answer was a combined attack, but that didn’t feel right.
“Well?”
Myac tried to sound confident in his assessment. “It must have been a combined attack. Something multiple adepts have been practicing together. We had four creators working together to secure Yiloch. They might have adepts trained to work together in his defense.” As he said it, he found he could almost believe it. Almost.
“We suffered significant losses last night. I need more than speculation.”
The emperor stepped in so that their faces were only inches apart and Myac could feel the heat of the other man’s rage. He flinched back. He could kill the emperor with ease, but the man still had powerful presence. Disconcerted by the turn of events, he found it harder than usual to keep his composure.
Dissident (Forbidden Things Book 1) Page 29
