"Packing?"
"Have I a parrot for a servant now? Yes, I said packing. We leave for Winter Tournament in two days time."
"Winter Tournament, Milord?"
"There you go again," Dorian grunted. "Yes, Winter Tournament."
"Should I remind you of who frequents the Winter Tournament?"
"My father, among many others."
"Your brothers," Gremor got more to the point.
"Half brothers."
"It has been several years. Perhaps some of the enmity will have worn off."
"There are still two contracts out for my life, signed by each of them. Enmity like that does not wear off, Gremor. It festers."
"Then may I ask why we are going?"
Dorian reached for the bar of tallow soap resting just beside the faucet, "Because the lady wants to go."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was perhaps the most well-armed caravan Dorian had ever seen. And he didn't just mean the two-dozen guardsmen that Reonne had sent for Leona. Nearly every manservant he spotted had the look of a warrior to them. It was cleverly hidden under layers of humble clothing and indirect eye-contact, but the menace was there all the same. In fact, if he was being honest, then the only one in the caravan who could not manage a sword if he needed to was Gremor, who rode in solemn silence beside him with that melodramatic look he got when he thought Dorian was making a mistake.
"Come now, man," Dorian straightened in his saddle and stretched his back. "Will it not be marvelous to see my dear, beloved father again?"
The long ride was taking its toll. He thought of joining Elsie in the carriage but remembered that Leona was sitting in there as well. Fates help him if he could muscle through four hours of pleasant conversation in that cramped little space. When they got to the train he would be able to corner Elsie for a much needed private conversation.
"Indeed it will, Milord. Though if you were missing the man then we might have sent word ahead of us. Surprising His Lordship is unwise."
"Nonsense, he has made it clear that I am welcome whenever I wish to see him."
"And your brother has made it clear that hospitality will not be given to you while he still breathes." Gremor sighed in a dramatic way. "My Lord, I hate to see you insulted like that. And you know he will do his best to insult you."
"Probably."
"Definitely."
"Relax, Gremor," Dorian winked over at him. "I know what I am doing."
Clucking his tongue he urged his horse closer to the lead carriage. Lady Leona had the windows of the carriage open so that she could look out at the road. She spotted him and smiled, though the smile held a small amount of reserve to it. No doubt the implications of his escort had been made known to her, which would meddle with her own plans with this Hemic Knight of hers. Elsie sat directly across from the Lady, her face as emotionless as ever when he greeted them.
"I do hope the travel is not too rough on you, Milord," Leona said. "You are welcome to ride in the carriage with us when you tire of horseback."
"The offer is a welcome one, Milady," he smiled. "As much as I would enjoy your company, I have been savoring the fresh air."
The Lady's eyes fixed onto his cravat and she frowned, turning to Elsie. "Nessa, we never finished shopping for material for his Lordship."
Elsie seemed prepared for the line of questioning. "We did not, Milady, our rude interruption and the haste of preparing to leave put it off. I thought perhaps to purchase something in Little Delgora when we arrive."
"Nonsense," Leona sniffed with superiority. "I said I wanted to buy it for him. You need to save your money, Nessa. We will make a trip to the port market before boarding the ship and I will buy everything you require."
"If it pleases you, Milady."
Leona's smile returned, genuine this time. "It does," she chirped and turned to look at him again. "You will be the envy of every man at Winter Tournament."
Dorian held back a snort of dry humor, smiling and thanking her instead. He would be the shock of Winter Tournament since he hadn't attended in nearly fourteen years. In point of fact, he hadn't been near a Manor House or any noble family since Lorelei's death. He'd visited his father from time to time, but for the past years he'd chosen to live apart from the noble society. Which was reflected in his garb, and he thought again that Leona's motivations were from a sense of kindness. Although he was not prone to accepting such a generous gift - his pride wouldn't normally allow him to do it - he could not deny that allowing Elsie to sew for him would give him ample excuse to be in her presence. And he did enjoy being in her presence.
"Should we plot colors?" Leona asked.
Elsie was about to respond when a loud, "Whoah!" shouted from the front of the carriage and the horses were pulled to a stop. The carriage jostled as the brake was put on, surprising both women inside. Dorian frowned up at the driver, and then felt his body stiffen. The horses were spooked, and he knew it was for a reason. They snuffed and shifted, restless with the want to run.
Then a man stepped onto the road clad in the trademark garb of a Bedim Knight. He looked like a swirl of black amid the greenery of Delgora, loose breeches caught tight against his shins with his knee-high boots. A matching dark tunic cinched around his waist with belt and scabbard but Dorian recognized him at once.
"Artimus," he muttered under his breath.
"What is going on?" Leona demanded, opening the carriage door.
Dorian reached over and closed it again, forcing her to return to the seat. "For your protection, Milady, I must request that you remain in the carriage."
"I have no desire to harm anyone," Artimus stated, holding his hands out as though in surrender. "I merely wish to speak with Saldorian Feverrette."
A hand reached through the carriage window and grasped tight to his forearm. He looked to see Leona, wide-eyed with fright. "Do not answer him, Milord! Quickly, come inside and we will charge him."
He spotted Elsie taking the moment to slip through the opposite door and ground his teeth together. "I thank you for your concern, Milady. But I must first think to your safety." He lifted her hand away from his arm, brushing a gallant kiss across her knuckles before releasing her. "This is, after all, supposed to be my escort to Winter Tournament, is it not?"
The opposite door opened again, admitting Bryva into the carriage in place of Elsie. The girl did not look pleased about the arrangement and when Leona caught on to the change she blinked in surprise.
"Nessa?" Leona glanced about the carriage.
"She thought you safer with me, milady." Bryva said then knocked twice, hard, on the roof of the carriage. "Do charge him, Forvant."
The brake was released, the reigns snapped and the carriage lurched forward. Guardsmen on horseback charged passed him, keeping up with the carriage and creating an added barrier between Artimus and Leona. It wasn't really needed. Artimus was true to his word, standing aside and allowing the carriage and men to go by. He stood still, his eyes locked on where Dorian remained in his saddle.
Gremor galloped to his side. "My Lord!"
"Follow the carriage," Dorian ordered.
"But My Lord ... "
"Do as I say, Gremor," Dorian turned, enforcing his command with a look. "Protect Leona at all costs."
Even Gremor knew his words were for show and nothing more. No one left on the road believed the lady to be in any sort of danger. There were several men fishing in saddle bags or the luggage carriage, each of them coming out armed and moving to stand off behind him. A look of mild surprise flashed over Gremor's face. Fates bless the old man; Gremor had not noticed the peculiar stalwart traits of their company. He nodded once and took off after Lady Leona.
He checked the road as he dismounted, one hand on his hilt at all times. Dorian doubted that Artimus would attempt another poisoning. It just wasn't the man's style to try the same thing twice. That meant there was something else swirling in that demented head of his. Once upon a time Dorian would have easily interpreted hi
s body language, known his mind before he'd even taken the first steps toward his decision. Now he was at a loss.
"What is it you want, Artimus?" Dorian stepped away from his horse.
"Come now, Sally-boy. You used to be so much better at small talk."
"Small talk is for negotiating court," he watched as Artimus made a casual move closer. "As I recall, you were thrown out of all Civil Courts."
Artimus chuckled and Dorian felt his skin crawl. "But Sal, you don't think that negotiation is only found in Civil Courts, do you?"
"I do not go by that name anymore."
Clucking his tongue Artimus nodded, stepping even closer. He was almost five feet away. Dorian calculated the distance, compared it to his response time and took a firmer grip on his hilt.
"I heard that, actually. You prefer 'Dorian' now, am I correct?"
"From you I would prefer Saldorian Feverrette." Dorian squared his shoulders. "I think you've come close enough. Tell me what it is you want."
Artimus stopped moving, his smile vanishing and a cool look of hatred washing his features. "I wanted to ask you how many women you intend to let die for you."
"Lorelei died by your hand, Artimus. Not mine."
"My sister died with a strike meant for you. I did not mean to kill her."
"But you still killed her."
Artimus barked a loud, humorless laugh. "The twit should never have interfered."
"Never. Dishonor. Lorelei." It was an effort to stay calm. As much as he couldn't fathom Artimus's thoughts, his old friend knew exactly which nerves to tweak a response out of him.
One eyebrow cocked upward, a mocking movement as he began tapping his sheath. "Nessa is a poor replacement for my sister, Sal."
"I'm not looking to replace Lorelei."
"Planning on mourning her your whole life, are you?" Artimus looked beyond him, toward the men.
"It's the least I can do; she'll get no remorse out of you." Dorian itched to look over his shoulder and see what had caught his attention.
"You've a strange way of mourning her, taking up with a Bedim whore." He moved to the left and Dorian shifted to compensate. "Why don't you come stand by your lover, Nessa. I want to see the two of you together one more time."
"Leave her out of this," Dorian growled.
"Really now, Saldorian, I would have thought your sensibilities would have prevented you from making love to one of the Bedim."
"That is enough, Artimus," Elsie said, moving to stand beside him. "I believe you asked for a negotiation and yet you've given no terms."
Dorian half-blinked, trying to maintain his hold on reality; the past swirled to life in front of him, haunting him, echoing against the restlessness of the roadside. Artimus was recreating the night of Lorelei's death. It could have been an exact replica, if Elsie had lighter colored hair. That and she was holding a thin, straight blade in one hand. Lorelei had never used a blade. Still, there was one woman standing just between them, positioned in such a way that Dorian knew she meant to fight.
"I would think my terms would be obvious, Nessa." Artimus turned his attention back to Dorian. "She really is a sharp woman, far wiser than Lorelei, if I might observe. Then again, she did believe I was here to help her all these years."
"Very well," Elsie took a step forward. "If you will offer no terms, I will give mine. You will leave Delgora. Now. Or I will drive you out."
It was no longer a replica. The haunting stopped, vanishing under the command of Elsie's voice. Slightly dazed by the reality before him Dorian took his eyes off Artimus and glanced at her. She stood ready, prepared to fight like any man would, her stance relaxed and poised at the same time, the grip she had on her hilt was so comfortable and confident. Clad in the bodice and blouse she'd been wearing in front of Leona, Elsie had changed into a pair of loose, black breeches. Her ankles were exposed because she was still wearing slippers and Dorian held back a smirk.
Though the defiance that rippled from her person echoed Lorelei, there was a capability in her that his former love never had. For one brief moment he actually admired that.
"Did I not teach you only to attack if you were certain to win?" Artimus scoffed at her.
"You were not my only teacher, Artimus Berkuska."
He charged then, light glaring and distorting as he bent time to rush at them. In the split second it took for the man to reach them something else happened. Dorian's initial instinct was to grab Elsie, shove her out of the way and to safety but his Talent conflicted with him. Following its lead he spun left, noticing from the corner of his eye that Elsie had done the same, both of them evading the attack with little effort on their part.
The men started their defense, running to aid.
Artimus turned, pulled something from inside his shirt and flung it in a wide circle around him. Elsie shouted a protest that went unheeded as several silver objects rent through the air. Magic told him to duck and he did, feeling the whoosh of something sharp just past his left ear. A moment later there was the meaty sound of the objects hitting their marks and men began to drop.
The next attack came from Elsie, a precise diagonal swing from hip to shoulder that Artimus parried. Dorian advanced, his sword sliding just past Artimus's left side, missing by mere inches. He bent time, flicked the blade back toward Artimus again, cutting deep and sure across the top of his thigh.
Artimus let out a yell of pain and slammed an open-palmed strike into Dorian's chest. The hit was pushed with the momentum of Talent, throwing Dorian away from the fight. He hit the ground, rolled three times before sliding to a stop and fought for a breath. He thought he could remember a strike like that hurting a good deal more.
Dorian looked up just as Elsie took a similar blow and went soaring away from Artimus. Heaving a breath, he leapt to his feet. Artimus's body blurred into a streak of movement headed directly for Elsie's position. Dorian beat him there, fending off the killing blow to Elsie's midsection with a smooth block. Not waiting for another attack, Dorian called on his Talent, grappling Artimus's tunic and turning bodily into him. There was the puff of heavy breath against his neck just before he turned and flung Artimus away.
The man's body struck a tree before toppling to the ground.
Elsie was up a moment later, wheezing a breath and squinting over at where Artimus was struggling to his feet. "He's holding back," she panted.
"Barely," Dorian glanced at her. "He'll try to kill you first. You should leave."
She gave him a look that ceased his argument. Fates! What had he been thinking to compare this woman to Lorelei? Lorelei had been gentle and good-natured and easy to get along with.
He sensed the danger a moment too late. There was a disjointed, almost shaky movement to his left and he turned, armed and ready to fight. Only what greeted him was not Artimus. Three jagged talons sunk deep into his chest, painless for the first moment of shock but followed by a sudden, wrenching agony that made his mind go blank.
From somewhere far away he heard a woman scream.
It wasn't until his knees buckled that he realized the scream had come from Elsie.
***
It was her father.
Or it had been, once. Elsie could see the distinguishing high cheeks, the broad forehead, the general form of her father standing there, attached to this thing that had attacked Dorian. It only took a moment for the creature to come into full view. While she could still make out her fathers image she saw that he was mostly skeletal, his eyes sunken inward until they were nothing but dark pools of shadow. The bones in his chest stood out, some of his ribs bending in unnatural ways to accommodate the Dellidus.
Scales patched his skin, curled around his forearms, and engulfed his hands until all that was left were the three-pronged talons that were buried in Dorian's chest. She gasped, sensing more than seeing the Dellidus begin to draw Dorian's Talent from him. It turned to her then, exposing the head of the Dellidus at the back of her father's neck, open-mouthed as though perpetually suckin
g on him.
Time was short, she knew. Elsie swung her sword with a shout of rage, lobbing her father's arm off where it had attached to Dorian.
It made a sound that shook her to the core, something Wild and roaring, like a thousand voices all raised at once. She'd been prepared to fight further when it looked at her, something like recognition flashing over its features before it blurred and left, taking off so fast she couldn't follow it. She stood there for a moment, looking out into the jungle where it had retreated. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she needed to keep alert, Artimus was still hunting for a fight. And Dorian needed her help. Still, she could do nothing more than stare, emotion boiling over in her core.
Her father.
The garrote wrapped around her neck, followed by the slam of Artimus's body against her back. His arms levered on her shoulders, half-lifting her from her feet. Her airway constricted. Her body began to choke. And her mind detached.
Artimus had taught her this. If she struggled she would die quicker. She needed to do something, fast. She turned her sword around, tried to stab at him but he swerved his body and she cut her own side instead. Lifting her free hand she grabbed and tore at his hair but he only lifted her higher off the ground.
Painful lights rimmed her vision.
Her fingers went numb and her sword clanged against the pebbled ground.
Darkness began to overtake the light.
***
Dorian struggled back awake. There was an alarming sort of gurgling sound in front of him. His eyes opened, seeing first Elsie's slippers as her feet desperately sought purchase with the ground and then Artimus's boots just behind. Her fight was nearly over; he could see that in the slowly fading kick she sent toward Artimus's knee. It bounced away, harmless.
His sword was still in his hand. Dorian gripped his hilt, shouted and shoved his blade through Artimus's left side.
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