“Mother, you have to get them to move faster.” She pointed. “As soon as we get through that small pass and behind that row of rocks we are hidden and we can slow down to a snail’s pace. We can even stop there if you wish; I can work out some shelter. But we need to get there. Urge them forward, Mother; help me get them through.”
The Abbess needed no further encouragement. She nodded and began shooshing and cajoling her women, young and old, to find more pace. Elka noticed one of the eldest being helped along by another nun and Janus; she could see they were struggling.
“Here, let me,” she said, and without waiting for a reply, picked up the old woman, who felt light as a bird. She nodded to the younger nun. “You go on. I’ll bring her.”
“You could have picked me up,” Janus jested, and she grinned. He spoiled the moment by then starting to suggest it would free his hands up to—
But she refused his problem its freedom. “Hurry!” she encouraged. Janus gave a grateful look combined with contrition and sped ahead.
Elka began to run. After covering good ground she took one longing look back at where the man who now owned her heart was left behind and then set her mind firmly to the task at hand. As she turned back to her charges, she glimpsed a flutter of something—fabric perhaps—from the corner of her eye. Her head whipped back, searching for it as she moved. She couldn’t find it again easily but was sure she had not imagined it.
“Elka?” It was the Abbess again. “Is something wrong?”
“No. I’m coming, Mother.” And as she lowered her eyes, there it was again. “Actually, can you help her, please,” she said, setting down the aging nun. “You go ahead, I won’t be long.”
This time she squinted, all her senses combining, and all her harbored knowledge of the mountains coming into sharp focus. She searched slowly, painstakingly, looking for the interruption, waiting for the snag in the landscape that shouldn’t be there. And there it was! She saw it: a hand pulling a length of fabric around its owner. There was someone up there! And as she concentrated she saw fresh movement: not someone but several people. She drew a long silent breath as she watched a quartet of figures break the cover of the rocky disguise and almost boldly walk down the incline.
She squinted harder, shutting out everything else—sights, sounds, smells—and focused entirely on the figure at the front, vaguely familiar. Elka blinked with a flutter of fright. She threw a cautionary look behind her and noticed that all the nuns were now safely hidden; they had not been seen, perhaps had not even been noticed by this new group whose collective attention was trained firmly on the convent itself.
Turning back, she concentrated once more. The leader of the new group had been standing but now he crouched, making himself as small and unnoticeable as possible against the scrubby foothills, his plain dun colored clothing the perfect choice to blend into that scenery. Now she recognized him. It was Leonel and he had brought people with him.
Why?
Why was he here, if not to make trouble?
And why come here at all unless he was confident of the trouble he could cause?
How would he know to come here of all places, given that they had left him back in the high northern forests of Penraven?
And who were these people with him? They weren’t soldiers. Now that she was looking with care she could see more of them, hiding, yes, but they looked to be civilians.
Gavriel had briefly mentioned that he and Leo had “crossed swords,” as he put it. He will try and kill me next time he sees me, Gavriel had murmured. She recalled how he’d shrugged before he’d said sadly: Valisars keep their promises. And then he had sighed. So he’ll try and I will be forced to choose: my life or his, for I am the better swordsman, the better marksman.
The better man, she had reassured.
Elka blinked again as a chill crept from her toes and began to find a dark form, like a blockage, in her throat.
Why was Leo here unless he was going to keep his promise? And he would know Gavriel to be the superior swordsman, so why make the attempt unless he was confident? Why walk into the lion’s den of an enemy army he could surely see from his vantage, unless he was confident of cheating its blades too?
All these questions swirled in her mind and crystalized down to one horribly clear, glittering fact: Leo had found an aegis.
And Gavriel was mortal. And while Elka trusted Loethar’s promise to keep him safe, she trusted her own instincts more.
Elka hurried to find the Mother, and despite her protestations told her she had to leave but would be back. And then, with little more than her slingshot and bow slung across her body, she began a stealthy hunt for a Valisar royal with murder in his heart.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Corbel made Valya remain behind him as they approached the quartet awaiting her.
“It might be wise for you to remember that I am risking my life to keep yours safe,” he cautioned beneath his breath. “To reveal us now would be to welcome your own death. I will kill you myself if you betray the others.”
He stepped ahead, recognizing Stracker from Sergius’s vision. He didn’t know either the one-handed man or the officious-looking civilian with the smirk on his face, but the fourth person he recognized despite the years and his heart skipped a beat, surprising him by the rush of emotion he felt to see Piven again. There was no mistaking the small sunny youngster of yesteryear, now a strapping youth. Though he was smiling, as he always had in Corbel’s memory, the expression looked cynical now rather than open.
Corbel stopped himself from even murmuring his name as it sprang to his lips. As hard as it was to accept, Piven was the enemy now.
“Empress,” Piven said. It sounded like a welcome but Corbel heard an icy undertone he did not trust.
To her credit, Valya hardly blinked an eyelash, not so much as a heartbeat passing before she was curtseying low before him. “I no longer consider myself that, your majesty. Through choice I return myself to a former royal of Droste and your willing servant.” She did not rise, kept her head bowed. “But thank you all the same.”
Corbel watched Piven’s eyes narrow. As young as he was, it seemed the youth was not beguiled by Valya’s servile attitude.
“And who are these fellows?” Piven wondered aloud, overly brightly.
“We are the men employed by Loethar to guard his wife,” Corbel said, amazed that while the passing of time had surely changed his features, the beads had given him a cushion of security. There wasn’t even a flash of recognition from Piven.
“I don’t know you,” Stracker growled.
“We are hired men, general. We were told she was not worthy of his soldiers.”
Valya said nothing but, looking down, Corbel could see her trembling with rage.
“You are brave men to come out here,” Piven remarked.
Corbel forced himself to give a soft but not insulting look of dismay. “I have no argument with you, my lord. Forgive me if I address you incorrectly. I am a simple man and have no interest in the politics of our empire. We have been paid to do a caretaking task, that is all. I mean no disrespect if you are now the authority.”
“None taken,” Piven replied. “Step back,” he commanded.
Corbel lifted his gaze to Piven.
“I hope that’s not a challenge I see in that look?”
“No, my lord. But my role is to guard the former empress.”
“And now you have new orders from the new emperor. Step back.”
Unhappily but disguising his trepidation, Corbel took one step back, keeping himself level with Valya.
Piven sniffed the air and suddenly laughed. “Do you feel it, Greven? Can’t you just smell it?”
Corbel’s gaze shifted to the one-handed man. This was Lily’s father. He looked weary and disheveled but mostly he looked to be filled with despair. Corbel noticed he did not answer Piven and Piven didn’t seem to care.
He was laughing again instead. “There is powerful magic in the air today
,” he said, rubbing his hands. “But whose, I wonder?” He returned his attention to Valya, switching unpredictably to his former interest. “If you value your life, you’ll tell me whether Lily Felt is behind those gates.”
“I don’t know a Lily Felt, majesty. Who is she?”
Corbel couldn’t help but feel impressed. Valya was playing the most dangerous of games. What did she hope to achieve?
“Fair enough. I would imagine you have no reason to know her and perhaps would not be privy to all strangers crossing the convent threshold. So,” he said, as if it mattered not, “to other things. Which Valisar is behind those doors?”
“Valisar?”
“Please don’t ever take me for a fool, Valya, particularly as you seem to be standing before me hoping to find some favor. I have no reason in the world to extend a mote of sympathy toward you, so it would be wise to give me reason to at least be vaguely impressed by you. Is there a Valisar child hiding behind those walls . . . a daughter . . . because I want her.”
And Corbel watched Valya smile; she’d painted her lips for this meeting and her mouth looked like a red gash as it stretched in cunning pleasure. His heart pounded. She was going to give Evie to them and though it mattered not—Evie was safe with Faris’s aegis magic—he would personally despatch Valya for her treachery.
“Yes, majesty, there is a Valisar daughter,” Valya confirmed.
Piven, who had been seated on the steps of the carriage, now stood, his eyes glittering in his still boyish face. “I knew it,” he murmured.
“How did you know?” Valya asked.
Corbel noticed Stracker and Vulpan looked confused, while Greven looked at the ground, anger and despair all over his face. Corbel threw a glance Barro’s way but his friend gave an almost indiscernible shake of his head to suggest he wasn’t sure what was going on either.
“I have known about her for some time,” he said and Corbel heard Valya give a soft gasp of shock. “Besides, I can feel her magic. I can feel the Valisar power too but this princess . . .” He smiled. “Her scent overlays it. She feels close enough to touch.”
Corbel felt a wave of fresh tension grip him. Piven had always known? How? They’d only been back in the world for a matter of days.
“I would like you to give her to me now,” Piven said.
Corbel bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself saying anything. He imagined drawing his sword and . . . and nothing; he would be bleeding out within moments.
“What will you do with her?” Valya asked, her voice trembling.
How well she acts, Corbel thought angrily.
“That’s my business, Valya.”
Corbel watched from the corner of his eye as Valya licked her blood red lips. “Your majesty, I am frightened. If I deliver her to you, then I have nothing left with which to bargain for my life.”
“Valya,” Piven replied reasonably. “You have nothing left anyway. If I really want to I can just take her. She is but a child. I have my aegis; I am in my full power. Let me ask: does she have an aegis?”
Valya shook her head, much to Corbel’s surprise. He had no idea what she thought she was doing. She certainly wouldn’t be safe with Piven and Stracker.
“So she has no aegis—that means she has no power to speak of. And what’s more she is a child, frightened of her own shadow probably, crying when she is hungry.” He said this so kindly that Valya fell for it, Corbel noted.
“Yes, oh yes, your majesty. She is just a child; simple affection and a soothing voice is all she needs. She will not challenge you.”
“Cannot challenge me,” he impressed.
She shook her head tearily. “No, she will not. So please, don’t hurt her.”
Corbel was stunned. Valya genuinely sounded as if she cared.
“Go and fetch her, Valya. At least this way you can cling to what little hope you have left of redeeming yourself.”
Corbel heard the false note. Piven was toying with the woman and while he had not an iota of fondness or care even for Valya, he would not see any woman humiliated. If Piven had killed Valya where she stood Corbel would have understood it—she deserved it, and it would be honest of Piven—but this sport he was making of her suffering turned Corbel’s stomach.
“Can I redeem myself, majesty? Will you spare me, spare her?”
“We shall see,” Piven said slyly. “But we have to start somewhere trusting each other. You first,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. Corbel was disgusted. How had Piven come to this? If he was shocked to see the once invalid, sweet little boy so whole and alert, he was deeply saddened to see what a mockery he made of all that Corbel hoped the Valisar crown stood for . . . what his father had died for.
Valya hiccupped a soft sob, appearing torn. It seemed obvious to Corbel that she was going to attempt to hand Evie over to these men and he couldn’t understand what her reluctance was. In fact he was spending more time worrying over Valya—a woman he hated—than Evie, the woman he loved, because Evie was safe . . . and Valya knew it. So what was the—?
The wheels of his mind suddenly stopped turning. His thoughts juddered to a loud and shattering halt as he realized that everyone, including him, but excepting Valya, had been talking about the wrong princess.
“You are right, she is close enough for you to touch, majesty,” Valya tearily admitted.
And Corbel helplessly reacted as she reached to unwrap the bundle in her hands . . . the bundle that he’d thought was perhaps a change of clothes or a few precious items, but he now knew was her newly born child . . . the daughter that Loethar believed dead . . . the other Valisar princess.
Elka had crept up as silently as a rock mouse, her tread light despite her size, her balance perfect as she navigated the terrain, keen eyes scanning ahead for any spots of danger. And now she found herself at a perfect vantage to see exactly what was going on.
Leonel was smugly looking down at what was unfolding before the convent. Valya was bowing before the newly arrived strangers and this piece of theater fully held the attention of Leo’s quartet. The biggest shock of all, however, was to see a crowd in the forest above them, sitting together in dread silence with their hands all linked. Elka couldn’t tell if they were scared or simply full of anticipation but the atmosphere certainly felt tense and dangerous. What were they doing? Praying? Elka frowned. She didn’t want to leave until she knew what Leo was up to.
One of the quartet—a middle-aged woman—peeled away from the others and moved back to the main group. Hidden but sharp of hearing, Elka listened.
“We await his signal,” the woman said. She was talking to many and clearly was not afraid of being heard this high up. “General Marth and I are agreed that if the king uses our combined powers for anything other than what we believe is necessary force we will override him.”
There was a murmuring among the folk who listened.
Elka watched the woman in charge shrug. “I don’t like it much either but I know that for most of you this was never something you wanted to be involved with. Aggression is not the way of the Vested and perhaps I have always been more militant than the majority of you but I have lost more than my freedom to the barbarians. Perl as the king’s aegis has no choice but to follow his command but the rest of us are not bound to him.”
“What if he turns on us?” someone asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say to that but I hope it won’t come to it and frankly he has no reason to. We are his weapon, don’t forget, and if we defy him you will have plenty of warning to scatter. I hope we don’t have to stop giving him our powers. We only will if we feel he is getting out of control and killing innocents.”
“No one is innocent down there,” another remarked. “He can kill all the barbarians as far as I’m concerned.”
“I know, Beltor, but not everyone feels like that. It is murder if no one fights back . . . and you forget that there are nuns down there in the convent, all of whom are innocent. So, while I can’t assure y
ou of anything, at least we are trying to do something to help ourselves . . . that should be our comfort.” She tried to smile. “The Vested finally fought back.”
More murmurings moved through the people but Elka was no longer paying attention. Her mind was already running to Loethar and Gavriel down below. Leo wasn’t just suffused with a new-found aegis magic but he was somehow in control of a different and clearly powerful way to kill. How he was going to do it, she couldn’t tell but she had noticed that their spokesperson briefing them had looked at another middle-aged woman several times and the group had also glanced at the other woman. She seemed to be a focus of what might occur and yet she looked harmless enough with those rosy cheeks and her plump countenance.
Elka wanted to steal back down into the convent to warn Loethar and Gavriel, but her instincts told her to stay put, where if necessary she could either put the rosy-cheeked woman she was unsure about out of action or find a way to disrupt the Vested. Her hand twitched by her catapult. Though she knew Leo was protected by his aegis, all these people could not be as well. One way or another she would not allow them to hurt Gavriel . . . or Loethar.
Corbel shocked everyone, himself most of all, by leaping forward. “My lady, do not!” he warned, reaching out to stop Valya from handing over her helpless baby. Nothing, absolutely nothing—even if this cost him his life—would permit him to stand by and watch another innocent newborn lose its life over the accursed Valisar magic.
Horrific memories came rushing back as he recalled the sickening sensation of forcing the life out of that anonymous baby. It was his duty, his father had said gravely, but he’d seen the look of fear and loathing in Regor de Vis that day and could now almost believe that his father had happily ridden out, almost welcoming death from Loethar’s blade as retribution for his part in Brennus’s plan. Corbel had spent a lifetime trying to redeem himself by looking after Evie so fervently. He could not permit a child to die in his care again.
* * *
Genevieve walked through the door that Ravan held open and hesitated at the darkness inside.
King’s Wrath Page 44
