Ludovic couldn't help staring. Ignoring the djinn outright, he looked to Kiran. Saw that his chest did not rise and fall as it did in life. Brought his gaze to Marceline and saw that her lips froze in an imperfect “O”. Almost as if she had seen the djinn as he descended from the ceiling.
Perhaps she knew it would only talk to him?
The djinn snapped. Brought Ludovic's attention back to him.
“Have you...stopped time?”
The djinn simply smiled. Clasped his hands together and waited.
“Are you a god?”
“A lesser,” the djinn snapped, his lips thinning, “like you, I am fated to look after those lesser than myself.”
A knot tightened within Ludovic's stomach. The djinn smiled, knowing it struck a cord.
“But, what if...” the djinn slid to Ludovic's side. Paced around him in a slow circle, “...I could change that? A boy cannot rule, but a man can.”
Ludovic gritted his teeth. Never trust a djinn.
“I need you to return that one's soul.” he snapped. Pointing at the highscale's bonded.
“Ah—don't be so quick!” the djinn said, waggling a finger, “What if I told you that I could get your boy on the throne? It is his right, after all. What if I told you that you could be rid of that highscale, and fulfill your promise to the boy’s mother, all at once?”
Arthur. He spoke of Arthur.
The deceased duchess's boy. He was the reason for the Spears existence. The reason why Ludovic had given everything up and fled from a lifetime of service with the Champions.
When a duchess calls upon an everyman, this is cause for alarm; he remembered the words of Duchess Mariett's messenger. The man choked the hand of a small boy wrapped in a black cotton cloak that night, clinging to the little duke like a child would. Afraid of letting him go.
Why has she called upon you? Why are you so special?
The messenger had been a man of the Couture family—Ludovic remembered now. The Coutures and the Savatiers—the duchess feared that in her death, the two powerful families would tear Safrana apart.
They had almost succeeded. But on a march through the Roselet countryside, they snuffed each other out. Now, a dragon roosted atop their sprawling mansions in the citadels. Destroying what was left.
He feared he'd never fulfill his promise to the duchess—to get her last surviving heir on the throne.
Now, though...
Opportunity stared him in the face with a mismatched glare and a widening grin.
Pressing his lips together, Ludovic's gaze fell upon Marceline. He looked at her steadily.
She had wanted to give her soul to the djinn in exchange for her friend's. But if she didn't have to make that sacrifice and could still destroy the highscale...what would she do?
He looked to the djinn, “You say, you can get rid of the highscale and put my boy on the throne?”
“Must I repeat myself?”
Never trust a djinn.
Ludovic waved the thought away, “Give me proof.”
The djinn turned, hands clasped firmly behind his back. He approached the table and stood beside Kiran's frozen form. Looked to the broken window ahead of him and breathed in the stale mountain air.
Was Ludovic truly being tempted?
Why speak to me alone? Why freeze them all?
With corporeal beings such as djinn, Ludovic knew it did more harm than good to question why they did things as they pleased—especially since he was getting what he wanted and then some. He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth and ask, why?
“By dawn of the next day, the highscale's bonded will turn to ashes. By noon, the highscale shall burn and turn to dust. And by late evening,” the wind came to life in a breath of air. The dark sky above faded to a bruised shade of purple before the color died away. An inky blackness covering all as stars blinked to life. Winked in the endless void above, “your boy shall be a king.”
Ludovic watched the moon thrust itself into the sky. It cycled, the gigantic silver eye swimming in a flourish across the horizon before it dipped. The sky lightening somewhat as purple became lavender and orange became gold. The sun rose.
And beside Marceline, the highscale's bonded came to. She coughed. Sputtered and slapped a hand to her chest. As light poured in through the broken window, it pinpointed her and spread its golden wings. Steam wafted from her porcelain skin, turning it to white paper. Black veins throbbed, growing from her neck to her ankles, encompassing her doll-like face. Her eyes widened—became bulbous as her skin melted away and withered to the floor.
Before long, she dropped. Shriveled up. Her gold gown a puddle of fabric covering a mountain of crystalline dust.
Then, once more, the world paused.
The djinn threw Ludovic a sidelong glance.
Ludovic's eyes rolled in his skull—had he truly seen that?
He met the djinn's wiry gaze as it approached. A sharp sliver glinted in his right hand. From his left, he produced a bloated roll of yellowed parchment.
Ludovic stood in silence as the djinn unrolled the scroll, the parchment fell. Rolling past the djinn's feet as it crept along the floor and ended at Ludovic's toes. Something clattered to the floor and tapped Ludovic's boot.
A silver pen.
Ludovic stooped. Took it. Rolled his forearm over to cut his wrist as if he'd done this before.
For a moment, it felt as though he had. It felt as though he had met this Dunstan Riche in another life and made a deal with it.
Never trust a djinn.
Ludovic waved the thought away once more as he picked up the end of the scroll.
“What are the terms?” he found himself saying.
“As always, a soul.”
Ludovic pursed his lips. Snapped his narrowed eyes to the djinn and brought them back to the scroll. Dipped the silver pen tip into the gash upon his bloodied wrist and signed his name with a flourish. Just as he had done before.
Just as he had done before.
The scroll rolled up with a snap. The silver pen dropped from his hand.
The djinn opened his arms. Bowed from the waist and grinned.
Ludovic blinked.
And the world thawed in an instant.
THIRTY-SIX
Marceline
Sun seeped out from the window behind her. An icy chill swept up her spine.
She looked for Reine. Found her. Marceline's vision blurred as her hand flew to her chest.
Breathing was a laborious process. She couldn't keep from gasping.
Her friend was—gone.
She looked up. Met Kiran's wide gaze. Searched for Ludovic's face and found him.
He stood some ways away, hands clasped firmly behind his back. His gaze was cold, as chilly as the air wheezing through the broken glass of the window.
Ludovic met her gaze with a steady eye. Brought a hand from behind his back and opened it towards the pile of ash upon the floor.
No one made a sound.
Reine is gone.
Gone.
Was her soul still there? Did Ludovic exchange her soul for Reine's and then...turn her to dust?
Nothing added up. Nothing made sense.
Before she could voice her confusion, he had already turned. Was already making his way towards the chamber's exit.
Words wouldn't roll off her tongue. Nothing but bile bubbled in the pit her throat.
Reine is gone.
The Masters will know.
Marceline shook the thought away. Secretly, she had hoped to keep Reine alive and somehow still kill the highscale. She had hoped to keep her word to the Master who had visited her. Who had warned her of what would happen should she fail.
Her eyes found the pile of dust once more. The puddle of golden skirts. A single lock of Reine's bright hair.
The girl is gone.
And it was her fault.
The floor beneath her feet trembled. Was she shaking? Had fear overtaken her body?
Her hea
rt beat violently in her chest, throwing itself against the cage of her ribs.
Before her, Kiran was shoved into the table. He let out a breath.
Ludovic froze.
A massive moan erupted from down below, the sound filling the room as the entire chamber shook. Dust fell like rain from above, the table moved with a grunt.
The doors of the council chamber shot open. A man tumbled inside.
Severin.
“It's the fucking hole in the courtyard!”
His warning fell on deaf ears.
“Damned thing's crumbling and taking the whole fort with it!”
Again, the floor trembled, rolled and roared. Behind Marceline, the stones of the wall began to shift as she was thrown towards the table as well. Breath escaped her lips as her ribs smashed into the wide lip of the heavy table.
“What's—what's going on?” Ludovic sputtered.
Severin caught his breath, “Everything's falling into that damned crater beneath us, Lud. The fort—,” he shook his head, “—we need to evacuate.”
Ludovic could not speak as another quake rocked them.
Marceline and Kiran exchanged furtive glances.
The fort was crumbling to nothing thanks to the instability of the mountain created by people hired by the Masters—soon, thousands of people would be without a home.
And it was her fault.
She cursed, shoved herself to standing despite the rolling and shaking.
The innocent lives littered around the fortress mattered more than her faults and failings.
“Is the entire courtyard gone?” she called, making her way around the table.
“It's only a matter of time.”
“Evacuate the people to the parapets, then. Have them climb down—,”
“These are women and children, Marceline. Not acrobats. They can't climb down several stories!”
Marceline's brow furrowed. She opened her lips only for the floor to tilt. She caught herself with a grunt as Severin slipped towards the far wall.
“Fear of death can make people do miraculous things.” she told him matter-of-factly, “Have them move to the parapets.”
This time, he did not argue. Pushing himself to standing, he looked to Ludovic.
“Go!” Ludovic snapped, breaking from his trance. “Just—go.”
A GOOD MANY MADE IT. Scaling the walls of the fort. Finding their way to solid ground as the courtyard within sputtered and fell with a gasp of gray smoke.
Before long, the foundation of the fort ceased to be. Stone turning to rubble as it crumbled and fell, taking the entirety of Fort Endure with it. Across the bridge, the alchemist's tower still stood. But it was a lone survivor of the carnage. One Marceline would never venture into again.
It seemed as if the mountain itself had collapsed, a gaping hole sat within its heart.
She stood alongside Ludovic as the fort fell, her thoughts turning to her first glimpse at the fort. She remembered it as a bulwark against the cold and the Champions tailing them. It was a place of cultivation—the one place her failures couldn't follow her. Or, so she thought.
Her failures had caused this. The men and women who turned against the Spears and worked to destroy the fort's foundation had been working beneath the yoke of the Masters. She knew. And the moment Reine died, the foundation imploded. That wasn't coincidence. It was a consequence. A consequence of her actions.
Ludovic stiffened. Still staring. A gaggle of people crowded around, some crying, others angered at losing their homes once again. Others chattered, a collection of people attempting to ignore the bleak circumstances.
They had nothing. If they stayed here on the brittle cusp of the mountain, they'd die of exposure.
Ludovic sneered at the collapsed structure. Marceline imagined that anger kept him from dissolving into tears.
Fort Endure had been his life. Everything he had worked for—it started there. Now...
Now, what did he have?
Kiran strode between them. Placed himself before Ludovic. He had no sympathy, “We need to leave.”
Ludovic made no move to answer.
Kiran looked to her, pleading silently.
Marceline sighed. Shook her head, “The elf is right.”
Ludovic threw her a look. He knew. But it took courage to leave the grave of one beloved. It took strength not to throw himself into that widening hole up above.
Ludovic turned on his heel, called the party's attention.
They'd go to the only place he knew had an abundance of flora and fauna for them to use to their advantage.
MARCHING DOWN THE MOUNTAIN, the sun rose slowly overhead as they hit the Safranian countryside. Ludovic lead the party into the woods, the two citadels of Safrana miles and miles away—tiny white pinpricks on a deep blue horizon.
Smoke billowed from the pinpricks. A dark form prowled.
The highscale.
It was almost as if it waited. Looking for them. Beckoning for them to come and fight it.
Perhaps it knew that its bonded was no more.
In the clearing of frost blanketed trees, the party set up a makeshift camp made out of torn clothing and hastily pitched tents. Sorrow fell like black snow as the company settled down for what felt like would be forever. Even their Soliel had given up.
Marceline found Severin in the collection of people. He sat at the heart of his men, rehashing stories. For a brief moment, they made eye contact.
Does he remember what he told me?
He cut his gaze away, sliding his hands apart as he spoke of some monster.
Will there be grand consequences for Reine's death?
Severin ignored her presence and she moved on. Passing the soldiers, she waded through Kiran's party of elves. Many rested in the trees, treating their long thick branches like hammocks, as others sat in the dirt and watched her passing form with expectancy. She met the eyes of many, acknowledged some with the slight incline of her head.
“Go speak to him.” Kiran appeared from behind a gnarled tree trunk. He held his bow in one hand, a carving knife in the other, “We can't sit like this. We need a place to call our own—a place we can fortify. We cannot stay like this.”
“Does Ludovic plan to stay here?”
The tall elf shrugged. Rolled his eyes, “Defeated, a man becomes a shell.” he leaned in, “A human.”
Marceline narrowed her eyes.
Kiran pointed towards a gap in the forest. A clearing, “I know what men do when they are defeated—but Ludovic is not a simple man, Marceline. He is our Soliel—the Great Unifier. You must remind him of this.”
“You know where he is. You go speak with him.”
“You don't think I haven't already tried?”
She blinked. Rolled her shoulders and huffed, “I guess it's my turn.”
Again, Kiran pointed. She followed his finger.
Marceline came into a clearing of snow frosted pines and slumbering trees devoid of their leaves. Ludovic leaned upon a pine, his gaze directed towards the citadel.
As she neared him, he didn't bother to look. He simply blurted, “I made a deal with it.”
Marceline froze. Realization immediately dawning, “You made a what?”
“A deal!” he spat, shaking his head as his gaze fell to the ground, “It told me: 'By noon the highscale will turn to ash.' It all but promised the highscale would die!”
“And for what?” she hissed, clenching her fingers into white knuckled fists as she edged closer, “You know—you know never to make a deal with a djinn!”
“The—,”
“The fort falling into that hole—merde! I can see the djinn now—laughing at your ineptitude! It makes sense now! It makes sense—!”
He whirled around. Caught her wrist as she attempted to slap him, “The djinn did this. To force us from the fort before midday. I know now.”
“And you're—,” she blinked, struggled against his grip, “you're nonchalant about this?! You don't care that your ca
relessness has cost lives—homes—happiness?!”
“How else were we going to take on a highscale, Marceline?”
“Vidonia said—if the highscale's bonded dies, so does the dragon!”
“Vidonia has been wrong before.”
She screamed—screeched like a banshee, “You are foolish!”
“I did what needed to be done.” he said, his jaw set.
“And now?” she asked, her voice cool as she wrenched her wrist from his grip, “Your life's work is gone—dropped into a crater because of your carelessness. What will you do now, Ludovic? Because it looks like to everyone here—all of the people you've saved and gathered—to them, it seems as though you've given up.”
He watched her with his eyelids lowered, his lips slowly twisting.
“See that?” Marceline pointed, “There lies our destiny. If it's true, what you and the djinn worked out, then the highscale will die no matter what!” She put her face in his, nose to nose, “Put fire in the hearts of your people and march on the highscale! Now is not the time to sulk. Give up, and they will resent you forever. At least this way, if you die, you die with honor—”
He silenced her with his lips.
Pulling her in close, he kissed her. Pressed his lips into hers with a passion she had never known—a primal passion that sparked searing heat within her core and spiked out throughout her entire body.
She felt the wide plane of his back, exploring them as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Sliding his hands down the expanse of her lower back, she gasped between kisses. Eyes shut. Voice working without her consent.
She wanted this. Merde—she wanted this.
But her duty came first. It always did.
Lightly, she pushed him away and dropped down to the ground. Instead, he came at her more ferociously. Hungrily. Feverishly.
She shoved him away with force.
Both locked eyes for a moment.
Marceline nibbled at her lip as her heart thundered. With a huff, she turned away.
Without a word, he turned and left the clearing, moving towards the men and women of the Spears.
She nibbled at her lip until she tasted blood.
Blade and Soul Page 27
