by Megan Derr
He was handsome, kind, and clearly not afraid to do whatever was necessary for what he felt was right. Dismissed from the navy or not, he was a fine soldier. And he'd been there when Granito died, had been the one to comfort Culebra through his grief. Dario had not even been able to manage his own grief, had bungled everything to the point Culebra had dismissed him.
He startled when a hand fell on his shoulder and jerked his head up to stare at Midori. He had, Dario noted irritably and helplessly, the prettiest eyes. Kundouins were fascinating anyway, with their sun-gold skin and vibrant hair. But Midori was stunning beyond and above that.
"Please, I know you cannot consider me a friend under the circumstances, but I am no threat to you. He told me of you and Granito, and his feelings for you were as obvious as the sea, and I daresay as deep, no matter how silly that sounds. I only want to help."
Dario nodded then shook his head. "His highness makes his own choices, and it's not my place to like or dislike them. Whatever we were ended when Granito died."
"I do not think that is true, but it is not for me to say," Midori replied. "I think a love as complicated as what you three shared is not as easily defeated as that. You overcame much just to love your brother, yes? And for both of you to love a prince ... you do yourself a disservice to give up so easily."
Huffing out a sigh of irritation, Dario demanded, "Why must you be so likeable?"
Midori stared at him in surprise, and then burst out laughing and damn it if that laugh, the way he looked as he laughed, did not affect Dario in ways that just maddened him further. "I promise you are one of a very small number of people who think me any such thing. You may be the only other beside his highness. But I am glad that you do not hate me. As I said, I do not expect to be friends, but I would like to be allies."
Dario nodded, gripped Midori's shoulder. "Life is too short not to take a friend where one might be found. Let other matters lie until they must be woken and let us be friend while we may."
"As you say," Midori said and smiled in a way that made Dario want to beat his head against the floor. Granito's smiles had always been his undoing as well, though Granito and Culebra had both later learned far more evil and pleasant ways to get him to do their bidding.
Fidel, clearly having waited until it seemed suitable to return, smoothly slipped back into the room and began to dish their food into bowls, and as they ate Dario began to explain to Midori all that he had missed and needed to know before they faced the Azul Mountains in the morning.
Chapter Sixteen: Brothers
Midori had always quietly sneered at mercenaries and soldiers—anyone who walked on land and claimed their lives were too hard for just anyone. He was not often an arrogant man, but he doubted most of those braggarts could last one day at sea. The oceans were the heart and soul of the Dragons of the Three Storms; they were the very center of Chaos. To survive at sea for years, especially back in the very recent days when the seas were far more turbulent and mermaids might attack at any moment, was a remarkable feat.
Anyone could learn to survive dry land, but he had seen more than one hardened soldier succumb to sea madness. Surviving years at sea took learning to trust instincts, to trust senses—things that people too often ignored. Years upon years of waiting for the dreaded appearance of mermaids left Midori acutely aware of his surroundings at all times.
Until he had been too enthralled with a certain prince to pay attention the way he normally would have. Let that be his lesson in arrogance.
His well-honed senses had not failed him entirely, however, because his training alone was what alerted him to the uninvited guests lurking outside the farmhouse. Leaving the others asleep, not certain how they would react if suddenly woken, Midori grabbed the sword lying alongside his bedroll and rose almost soundlessly to his feet.
He moved to the front door, crouched beside it, and waited.
As close as he was to the door, he could pick out the voices. No words, just rough, deep voices that indicated men, accents that reminded him of the palace or the city—polished accents, not like Fidel's or the softer tones that occasionally slipped into Dario's words.
His focus fractured, briefly, as Dario flitted through his mind. How compelling he was, how fierce. Somehow, the few other times they'd crossed paths, Midori had never made real note of Culebra's bodyguards. But then again, he had still been infatuated with Nankyokukai and consumed with the sea and had very little interest in anything else.
Midori ruthlessly shut the distractions away and scarcely dared to breathe as the door softly creaked open. Seven men crept into the dark house, quiet for land walkers, but nowhere near as quiet as a single mermaid hoping to slit his throat in the dark and brag to her sisters about her skill and daring.
He waited until they were all well past him and creeping toward the fireplace where Dario and Fidel still slept. Rising to his feet he walked slowly toward the man taking up the rear. Grabbing the man by his hair, Midori pressed his sword to the man's throat and called out, "Halt or he dies!"
The remaining intruders whipped around, and in the next breath Fidel and Dario both had moved from their bedrolls. They moved quickly—Dario, with the neat, precise movements of a well-trained soldier and Fidel ... Fidel moved more like a dancer. A very lethal dancer, the blades of his daggers flashing in the firelight as he knocked one man out.
Dario took down two more, and Midori knocked out the one he had taken prisoner. That left three.
Before any of them could move, a long, sinuous black shadow struck with frightening speed: once, twice, hissing before each bite, but moving too quickly for the warning to serve any real purpose. The two men bitten by Ruisenor fell with soft, pained cries. Midori watched, horrified and fascinated as ever, as the blood leaking from the large fang wounds turned black.
That left only one man. Midori and Dario watched him, blades drawn, while Fidel slipped away to light the lamps.
"Who are you and what are you doing here, corpse-eater?" Dario demanded.
The man, old and rough looking, but with dangerous eyes, said nothing. "He is Father Yago," Fidel said, drawing his daggers once more. "Head Priest of the city of Amador. He is also—"
"Don't!" Yago snarled.
Fidel ignored him, eyes cold as he finished, "He is also High Priest of the Brotherhood of the Black Rose. Father, what brings you here this evening?"
Yago's dark eyes were filled with fury. "You have no business revealing me."
"I may have been the more faithful longer," Fidel said coldly, "but you and I both know that when I left it was because I realized you were nothing of what you claimed. The true Brotherhood died and rotted a long time ago; only the corpse remains. I mostly left because I could not live without Cortez, but also because of the rot I could no longer deny. But Cortez—Cortez still trusts you. She left because she feels she betrayed the Brotherhood because she grew weary of blood. But she does not hate you, and I don't think she ever could. She was always very blind where you are concerned. What are you doing here?"
"Looking for Cortez."
"Try knocking," Midori replied and clubbed him on the back of the head, knocking him out. He stared at the prone figure sprawled at his feet. "So that is the head of one of Piedre's notoriously bloody cult. I expected something more ominous. So you were a Black Rose?"
Fidel laughed. "Do you know it is only foreigners who call us by the flowers? We call ourselves by Brotherhood or Order. But yes, I was a brother. I was called the Dagger, which is not nearly as ominously dramatic as 'Black Princesa'. I was always happy to be Cortez's shadow." He smiled sadly. "I wish I had gone with her when she left, but I was still too much a brother. When I finally left, I thought Yago just wanted rid of me. Now I wonder how long I have been caught up in this scheme."
Dario shook his head. "I don't even understand what is going on anymore."
"Then I think it is time to get some answers," Midori said and bent to grab the nearest man under his arms and haul him across the
room to the storage room where Fidel and Dario had been kept for several days. The two Ruisenor had killed they hauled outside and into the trees. When Ruisenor followed them into the woods and lingered possessively over her kills, they quickly returned to the house to leave her to do whatever she wanted.
"I am grateful that snake is on our side," Midori said.
"Yes," Fidel and Dario agreed. Returning to the house, they grabbed Yago and secured him to one of the rickety chairs.
Fidel slapped him, and Yago jerked awake, staring at them wide-eyed before realization set in. Then they narrowed, went cold. "I should have killed you when I had the chance."
"Probably," Fidel said idly. "I am amazed you did not, but then again, you could not ever risk your precious Princesa finding out who did the deed—and she would, because it's me."
Yago said nothing, but the set of his mouth spoke plenty.
"What do you have to do with the kidnapping of his royal highness?" Dario asked, folding his arms across his chest and regarding Yago with the sort of patience Midori associated with a circling shark. "Why are you collaborating with a shadow child to destroy Piedre?"
"Destroy?" Yago echoed, shaking with anger. "Destroy? I have spent my entire life trying to save Piedre! The longer the Basilisk Prince lives, the more dangerous he becomes. The world is better off without the gods! It was they who nearly destroyed it nine hundred years ago, especially here in Piedre! Every day the Basilisk Prince lives the greater the danger grows. I am going to succeed where all my predecessors have failed. Simply killing the incarnations is not enough—it is the power that must be destroyed, the eternal soul that must eradicated. If I must align myself with the Shadow of Licht to do it, then I will!"
Midori shook his head. "I barely understand all this complicated doctrine of Piedre, but even I know that one should never betray his own gods—and definitely not by siding with Lord Teufel. Dark tales come from the Jagged Mountains of Pozhar, of beasts with black scales and violet eyes that poison men slowly and eat them while they still breathe. Occasionally bodies wash up on the beaches of Kundou, or we see them out sailing—but never whole bodies. A head, an arm, or a leg. One time, I saw just a torso, and it was clear it had been devoured before the ocean got to it."
Yago just sneered, and Midori recognized the gleam in his eye: it was the sort of light that seared away all reason. "I will save Piedre, rid it of that terrible snake once and for all."
"Strange," Dario said softly. "I always took the cults as preaching the evils of the Basilisk, but assumed that was just their public facade to hide much dirtier, private motives."
Fidel shrugged and grimaced. "Yes and no. Many of us believed the doctrine; some always will, but others like me finally see that it is not our place to make decisions for gods. I also cannot help but feel that if the Basilisk truly hated us all so much, he would have destroyed us and someone simply killing him would not have stopped that."
"It's only delayed it," Yago said. "That is why he is reborn again and again. Why do you think the royal family always tries to keep their Basilisk sons and daughters either locked up in the palace or out of the country?"
At the look on Dario's face, Midori reached out unthinkingly to grab his arm. Dario tensed under his fingers, but then relaxed slightly, sending him a grateful look.
Midori slowly pulled his hand away, tucking away the feel of Dario's skin, the hint of muscle, to guiltily appreciate later. "I think his highness is kept away from his people because too many of them are like you and constantly seek to kill him."
"He deserves to die," Yago said coldly.
That time, Midori did not move quickly enough—and at the last, stepped out of the way as Dario slammed his fist into Yago's face. "No one has ever deserved to die less," he hissed. "You're an old fool poisoned by your own vitriol. If the true Basilisk was like the man I love, then he is dead because he wanted to protect us."
"Bah," Yago said. "You are no better than those of the Order."
"That's not true," Fidel said. "The Order wants to restore the Basilisk to use his power, whatever they say of doing what is right. The roses have all withered."
Yago just sneered at them.
"So why are you here?" Dario asked. "Waiting for the shadow child to do the dirty work so you can reap the glory you assume will follow?"
"The Basilisk will fall and Piedre will be afraid, for the true destruction of a god does not come without some consequence. But I will be here to lead the way and teach everybody that we are better off without the power of the gods. Free of the Basilisk's shadow, we will flourish."
Dario and Fidel both started to speak, but Midori raised a hand to stop them. "Stop, just stop. I can tell you right now that it is pointless. I have broken up more fights than I care to count over arguments such as this. There are plenty of people in every country who hate the gods just as much. It was especially frustrating in Pozhar, where so many people hated the sacrifices, but so many supported them and said anyone with a piece of a god's soul deserved to die. You cannot change someone's mind on so important a matter. People must choose to change their own minds."
Making a frustrated noise, Dario walked over to the fire and stabbed viciously at it. "He came all this way just so he would be in prime position to take the lead role when Culebra dies—when Culebra and Cortez die."
"Cortez deserves it," Yago said softly, with a hint of reverence in his tone as if he was reciting a prayer. It made Midori shiver.
It made Fidel punch him even harder than Dario had earlier. "Cortez has always held you in high esteem, you worthless piece of carrion! She became the Black Princesa for you more than anything else. She was always grateful to you for getting her out of the whorehouses, to the point she was blind to your true nature. The same way I blinded myself for years and years, until she left and I could no longer deny what was around me. And you want that corpse-eater to kill her!" Fidel hit him again, then turned sharply on his heel and stormed out of the house.
Yago laughed in a cold, slimy, mocking way that reminded Midori of too many nightmares at sea. Dragons grant him mercy from this storm. He looked at Yago, the blood and spit that smeared his face, the bruises already forming, and the chilling rage in his eyes.
"Why do you hate Cortez?" he asked. "That is the only part I do not understand. My impression thus far is that she was much like a daughter to you. Am I wrong?"
"She killed Goyo," Yago replied.
"Who is that?" Dario asked.
It was Fidel who answered from the doorway he had just slipped back through. "Goyo was his heir presumptive. He hated Cortez because he feared that she would usurp that position. He hated she was a better killer and more popular. They got into a fight one night, and he went too far and she killed him. She hated herself for it; I think I told Dario once, she said the death had not felt right. I ... looking back on everything I know now, it seems so obvious she is part of a god."
"Not just any part, but the part of the Basilisk that watches over unnatural deaths. Violent deaths," Dario said. "I cannot imagine how Culebra would have survived if he had been able to sense that in addition to what he already suffered."
Fidel walked back over to Yago, who just laughed at him. "She will die and she will deserve it, the filthy, bloody whore. Piedre does not need a god of death constantly looming over us, threatening destruction."
"I really want to kill him," Dario said.
Midori almost asked him why he didn't, then, but he knew the answer and understood. The man was still a priest, and Dario was the kind to kill only when necessary. He was not the sort to kill a man who was defenseless. Neither, it seemed, was Fidel.
For better or worse, Midori had no such qualms. "Have you ever been on a ship, Father Yago?" he asked, moving to stand directly in front of the man, keeping his arms loose and easy at his sides.
"No," Yago said stiffly. "I am a holy priest of Piedre. My life belongs to the land, not the wild seas."
"So you have never met a mermaid,"
Midori said and slowly moved around him, ignoring the confused, wary looks that the others were giving him. "Mermaids are malicious. They are cruel and thrive on it. I have heard rumors that they are changing, that the last ship to meet them was actually saved by them. But I don't know that I quite believe it. I have heard their screams of battle rage. I've seen them laugh as they gutted my comrades. I've seen the gleam in their eye as they devour those same men, thriving on the fact I was there to see it. I've seen them attack by dozens, by hundreds, and by ones, hoping to slit my throat in the dark. I know what it's like to grant one mercy, thinking that kindness is a good thing—"
He yanked Yago's head back, drew a dagger, and slit his throat. Letting him go, listening to him die, Midori finished in flat tones, "I learned quickly that monsters do not deserve mercy." He cleaned his blade on Yago's robe and then sheathed it. "We can probably throw his men out; without Yago, I doubt they will be much threat."
Fidel nodded. "You are not like any noble I've ever stumbled into."
Midori lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I have always considered myself more of a sailor than a noble. Courtly life does not suit me, even less so now when I have spent so many years at sea. Eventually, acting completely civilized becomes a very difficult thing to manage."
"I say we just leave the bastards here," Fidel said. "Dawn is not far off now. They won't wake anytime soon. When they do, and stumble out here to find Yago dead, they'll run home. By the time we reach the base of the Azul it should be light enough to press on."
"Sounds like a fine plan to me," Dario said and went to put out the fire.
"I'll go ready the horses," Fidel said, and darted off to do so.
Dario threw a bucket of water on the fire, then poked and prodded at it until he was confident every remaining ember had been stamped out. "I only endured the mermaids twice while traveling with Granito. The crew locked us up tight, and we never saw ... I knew Culebra suffered terribly that last voyage, but he would never speak of it at length. I honestly don't know if it was better or worse for him that he could only hear and smell."
