King’s Wrath

by Fiona McIntosh

  Close the door, a voice sliced into her mind.

  Ravan did so and Evie blinked, not sure it if was out of shock at the voice or the sudden plunge into the black.

  You will need to use this link I have opened or I cannot hear you, child. Do not be scared. I believe I am in the presence of a Valisar princess. You have little to fear.

  I . . . I have brought someone with me, Evie began tremulously.

  Indeed. He is welcome too. Normally I do not permit two people at once but the man who calls himself Ravan is not entirely real, and you and he are linked so strongly that it would not have made sense to leave him outside.

  Ravan and I? Evie echoed. We are perfect strangers!

  Not through blood, the woman replied. Come closer, child, let me touch you.

  Confused and a bit fearful, Evie gingerly moved through the dark. Her eyes were adjusting and she could just make out a small air vent through which tiny shafts of light penetrated high in the wall of the lofted ceiling. With each passing moment it became easier to make out shape and form. By the time she reached the woman, she could make her out with surprising clarity.

  I am pleased to meet you, Qirin.

  Genevieve. Well met, child. I never thought I’d hold the hand of a Valisar princess.

  Or I the hands of a blind, mute seer who could speak to me in my mind. I am a woman of science, Qirin; this defies it.

  Science? Hmmm, that word escapes me.

  Evie tried again. I trust only what I can understand.

  Do you misunderstand me . . . am I not speaking your language?

  You are, but—

  Am I real to your touch or am I a vision?

  You are real.

  Do your eyes deceive, do your ears lie, does your mind not perceive my voice as easily as if I’d spoken the words aloud?

  Evie sighed in the Qirin’s mind.

  Then we understand one another, do we not?

  She smiled. We do.

  You can trust me, Genevieve. I speak only truths.

  Who is Ravan? Evie asked.

  Ravan is a specter.

  Of whom?

  Of Cormoron, First of the Valisars. He is here to help the Valisars but particularly the female line.

  How is he to help me?

  He urged you to visit here. He was bringing Roddy to you when fate stepped in and Loethar crossed his path. Ravan has memories and knowledge that are vital to you and your magic.

  People are about to die out there, Qirin. Can I stop it?

  The old woman laughed in her mind.

  Is that funny?

  Amusing. You are the most powerful of the Valisars to have ever walked this land and you ask me the most simple of questions.

  Please answer me.

  Yes, Genevieve, you can stop the killing. But you can save more than lives, child. Individual lives are of no account. It is the greater good that matters most.

  Evie felt frustrated and confused. I am a healer, Qirin. I am interested in cutting away cancers, sewing wounds and making light in the darkness of people’s lives. My focus is ordinarily so small. How can I help the greater good?

  You have spoken it, Genevieve. You do not need me. Consider who you are and what skills you possess and then consider the great legacy that was deemed yours by the goddess Cyrena.

  Cyrena?

  I am tired now. Ask Ravan. She made him.

  No wait, Qirin, please.

  Weariness comes and I am at the end of my life. Perhaps in meeting you my life has been made complete. Tell her, Ravan. Go now and remember, it is not your aegis magic that is important but your own.

  Evie opened her mouth to ask more but there was no use. The Qirin slumped forward, seemingly asleep.

  “Come, your majesty,” Ravan said. “Time is against us and I have much to explain.”

  “Yes, of course,” Evie said, dazed.

  “Cyrena is a serpent, a very powerful goddess who watched over the Valisars,” he began as he led her to the door of the chamber, “and she made an agreement with Cormoron, First of the Valisars . . .”

  In the courtyard, the men were watching what was unfolding through tiny peepholes they’d discovered in the walls. It seemed the nuns had always had the ability to glimpse the outside world from their closed one, but even with that unexpected help it was difficult to observe the action closely.

  Gavriel had remained at the gate, his hand on Lily’s arm, startled by the grown Piven. He still echoed that bright young child with the sweet nature and brilliant smile but that’s where the similarities ended. Everything else about Piven, from his attitude to his strangely frightening presence, was a shock. And though it hurt him to believe it, Gavriel suspected Piven was unpredictable and could not be trusted.

  Holding his breath, he had shared the tension in the courtyard with his new allies, witnessing the scene unfolding outside. He had listened with escalating concern as the conversation had begun to turn less tolerant and a great deal more threatening.

  Gavriel had silently signaled to Loethar with a hand across his throat that the situation had turned dire. The expression on Loethar’s face mirrored his own anxiety and the emperor had arrived quietly at his side.

  “I’ll go out. It’s the very best distraction we have.”

  Gavriel nodded. “We know you’re safe. Buy us some time. Pretend to negotiate.”

  Loethar clearly agreed. But just as he was beckoning Roddy and Kilt from their peepholes to warn that they should intensify the ring of protection, they heard a cry from outside and Gavriel just glimpsed Corbel making a sudden and unexpected lunge at Valya.

  He was a heartbeat too slow.

  “Valya, don’t!” Corbel yelled.

  But Valya had revealed enough of the infant to grab Piven’s interest.

  Barro, alarmed by Corbel’s sudden lurch, instinctively drew his sword. Corbel yelled a warning to him but it came too late.

  “Kill him, Greven,” Piven said casually.

  Greven’s look of despair deepened. “You just had to draw your weapon, didn’t you?” he growled at Barro, who had begun to back off.

  Stracker began to laugh. “Your dog doesn’t even have a weapon.”

  “Be careful, Stracker,” Piven warned. “I might turn my dog on you one day.”

  Corbel couldn’t bear to watch. He knew if he drew his sword he was committing himself to instant death too and while his life wasn’t that important, Evie’s was and the baby’s was. He heard Barro uselessly swipe with his sword and soon enough the clang of the weapon being flung to the ground, then the terrible sound of Barro choking.

  Hopelessly, Corbel doubled over, groaning. Piven was as twisted by his return to sanity and by the arrival of his magic as everyone had feared.

  Stracker was laughing at him. Stracker couldn’t know for a moment the anxiety that riddled Corbel’s every waking moment, had been with him for ten long anni, since Brennus had put the newborn princes into his care. And so to the sound of Barro’s death throes Corbel finally let his emotion bubble up. As Barro made his last struggled gasp beneath the suffocating and inhuman strength of Greven’s hands, Corbel de Vis emptied his belly in a show of utter powerlessness.

  Piven shifted his attention back to Valya. “Is this a jest?”

  “I . . . I don’t understand,” Valya warbled.

  Stracker drew his sword with relish as Piven advanced on her. “Do you really think me stupid? I know my princess sister is ten anni. Don’t try and fob me off with some whore’s brat!” He grabbed the bundle from her and Valya screamed as he carelessly handed it to his third companion, who looked the most shocked of all.

  Corbel watched the man look around, unsure, and then place the child on the ground. At least the baby was unharmed for now. He snapped his attention back to Piven, who was standing over Valya as she crawled toward Stracker.

  “Stracker! She’s your niece!” she cried. “She’s Loethar’s child. Don’t you see, she must have the—”

  “You gambled an
d lost, Valya!” Piven hurled across her words.

  Valya screamed and changed direction, throwing herself at Piven. Stracker wasted not a moment, hacking Valya’s head from her body with one vicious cleave of his sword. Corbel groaned as her warm blood hit his face and her head rolled to where he was bent, stopping to stare sightlessly at him, her lips the perfect color for her bloodied end. Her headless corpse lay hunched over the sleeping child and he realized sadly she had not been lunging at Piven but was trying to reach her baby. She may have been a wicked woman but she had also been a mother who loved her child even when she knew their fate was hopeless.

  Corbel, no longer able to contain his rage, straightened, his gaze scorching a path to Piven.

  But there was a new look on Piven’s face now, one of pure amazement.

  “Corbel de Vis?” he murmured in a mixture of delight and alarm. “Is that really you? You look so old!”

  Corbel realized the disguise was destroyed; in his anger he’d forgotten about the tiny spell-infused bead and it had come out when he had retched.

  There was no point in denying it. “Yes, it’s me, Piven, and it seems I’m not the only one who has changed.”

  “De Vis!” Stracker roared. In a flash of understanding Corbel realized that no matter how quickly he drew his own sword against Stracker’s already drawn and bloodied one, only magic could save him now . . . and he had no aegis.

  “Die like your pathetic father did,” Stracker roared and brought his huge, heavy blade down toward Corbel’s head.

  Everything had happened so fast for the audience in the convent that there was a moment of silence so complete they could all hear the soft sound of a bird calling to its mate.

  And then pandemonium ensued. Gavriel howled a sound of pure desolation and ripped open the door of the convent, drawing the sword at his side in a smooth movement as he ran out, yelling in rage.

  “Stracker!” he howled.

  Piven seemed to be staring in shock at Corbel, who was prone on the ground with a gaping wound in his side. It turned out that even in that moment of impending death, Corbel had twisted his body enough for Stracker’s huge blow to miss its target. But it still had made enough mess of Corbel that Gavriel could tell in a glance that he was as good as dead, lying there in a pool of his own blood mixing with the already drying blood of Valya.

  Suddenly Piven’s head snapped up. “Gavriel!” he said.

  But Gavriel was already advancing on Stracker, a sound of rage issuing from his throat.

  It was Greven who moved though, raising his hand. Gavriel instantly found himself unable to shift a limb. Stracker too seemed to be suspended in the motion of realization, his bloodied sword halfway up to his shoulder again.

  “Piven,” Greven began and then he shrugged. “This is my magic. I can paralyze, usually for only a few moments but I believe the awakening of the aegis magic has intensified my abilities. I gave my word to my wife on her deathbed that I would never use them again and I have not until this moment. I realize all it takes is your word and I will have no choice but to release these two, but is this really what you want? You are happy for Stracker to fight Gavriel de Vis, your childhood friend?”

  Piven looked at Gavriel. “I have no fight with Gavriel.”

  Gavriel tried desperately to speak or move but was unable to do either.

  “But somehow I don’t think Gavriel will rest until his brother’s death is avenged.” Corbel groaned from the ground, and Piven looked down at him. “I’m sorry, Corbel. Had I known that was you in disguise . . . if I had reacted faster . . .”

  “Burn in hell, Piven,” Corbel choked out and that seemed to sap his dwindling reserve of life. His head slumped back down.

  Piven’s expression became a grimace of cold fury. “Stracker, what you did to Valya is your business. I’m glad the woman is no longer so much as looking at me. As for the child, that already looks half dead. It’s of no consequence to me but I see poor Corbel felt a duty of care toward it. Typical Corbel. He always did fight for the underdog, which is why he was always good to me. Both the de Vis twins were good to me and I’m struggling to find a reason to let you live, Stracker.”

  “He is not yours to kill! His head is mine!” said a new voice, almost softly spoken.

  Piven’s face changed from anger to delight. His accompanying clap of pleasure was drowned by the murmuring rippling through the Greens as their king and their new land’s emperor walked out without a weapon, a boy following him.

  “Loethar!” Piven exclaimed. “How many more surprises wait behind that gate? It’s like the traveling show that Greven used to take me to as a lad. Every time the curtain was pulled back, another treat was in store. And there is no better treat than to see you.”

  “Greetings, Piven,” Loethar said calmly. “Does Corbel live?”

  “Just,” he remarked, with what sounded like genuine sorrow. “But not for long.”

  “Release de Vis. You have no argument with him. Let him take his brother inside and have a moment with him. You can do that much, surely?”

  “I could but why would I?”

  “So you can watch my half-brother and I fight to the death. It’s been a long time coming.”

  Piven blinked. “Answer me this, Loethar. I am puzzled. I feel Valisar magic radiating off you. I see a child standing behind you, not that much younger than me. Am I adding up correctly?”

  “Your father not only hid your birth, nephew, but he hid mine as well. He and I share Darros as a father.”

  Piven erupted into gleeful laughter. “My uncle? You are my uncle?” His tone was laced with wonder.

  Loethar’s face showed no trace of amusement.

  “Oh, this is precious!” Piven said, almost hugging himself with delight. “And the boy is your aegis, of course?”

  “He is. This is Roddy. He is every fiber as powerful as Greven so we might as well accept that we cannot hurt each other.”

  Piven nodded. “A dilemma indeed for I want you dead, Loethar.”

  “I am not here to destroy you. But I will kill Stracker. He has killed my mother, my wife—”

  “Oh, Lo! Don’t tell me that was your child as well?” Piven exclaimed dryly. And then laughed.

  Loethar’s eyes turned to slits. “What?”

  “The baby,” Piven pointed. “She was bargaining with a baby.”

  Loethar felt suddenly unsteady. “What . . . ?” He couldn’t finish his question.

  “Beneath her body,” Piven said, offhandedly.

  First Loethar bent to Corbel. “Hold on, de Vis.”

  And then he reached for Valya, barely sparing her more than the time it took him to shove her corpse aside to reveal the baby Piven had spoken about. With a look of dismay, he lifted the child’s limp, lifeless form; the baby looked dead too.

  He gave a tight sob. “What is this?” he said, feeling as though he were unable to breathe.

  “Your daughter,” Corbel choked out, blood still oozing from the wound, his death clearly slow and painful.

  And Loethar understood everything. Even in death Valya’s cunning didn’t fail to make him catch his breath. It seemed his Ciara had been weak enough that everyone had assumed the worst, but she hadn’t succumbed immediately. He raised his head to the skies and let out such a roar of anguish that Vulpan nearby stepped back into the carriage, while Jewd and Kilt hesitated at the doorway, obviously more concerned for Loethar than for their own presence being revealed.

  Loethar buried his face into the tiny corpse for a few heartbreaking moments before he straightened and re-organized his expression to hide the naked emotion behind a mask of hate. When he spoke his voice, though raw, was even.

  “Captain Gorin.”

  “Yes, emperor.”

  “Call me Loethar as you did on the Steppes.”

  “Yes, Loethar?”

  “Have the Greens fall back.”

  “General Stracker—”

  “Whatever General Stracker commanded is now of no w
eight or concern. General Stracker will be dead shortly. The Greens will bear witness to his demise and understand that this is what happens to any tribal man who challenges my authority. Is this clear?”

  The captain licked his lips nervously but nodded. “Yes, Loethar.”

  And then in the Steppes language Loethar spoke only to his people: “I renounce my status as emperor but not as king of the Steppes,” he roared, the magic swirling around him, magnifying the sound so that all the soldiers could hear him clearly. “Do the Greens acknowledge that?”

  A roar of sound came back in a language only the Steppes-born could understand.

  He continued. “Bear witness, Greens. And then return to your own. Take with you your families and your friends and head east. The tribes are returning to the Steppes. Those who wish to remain in the place they now call home may do so without threat of recrimination. But there will be no barbarian guard from today but an integrated Set and Steppes army to be known as the Imperial Fist. You may choose to belong to it or you may choose to go.”

  Now a huge roar went up; swords were shaken in the air and the very ground vibrated with their sound of appreciation.

  Loethar looked back at Piven. “They should never have been brought here or involved.”

  “It wasn’t my idea.”

  “I gathered as much.”

  “What did you just tell them?”

  “Nothing important. They are no threat to anyone here, though. Will you release Gavriel?”

  “Will you make the fight more fair? Vulpan and I are desperate for some entertainment.”

  “Certainly. Roddy, release all protective magic around me.”

  “No, Loethar!” came several voices.

  Piven laughed. “Your friends over there disagree.”

  “Listen to me, all of you,” Loethar called out. “When I fight Stracker it will be man to man, no magic involved. If anyone gets involved, I will kill him too.” He swung back to Piven. “Now release de Vis so he can take his brother in to die.”

  Piven glanced at Greven and Gavriel could instantly move again. He let out a growl of despair and was on the ground next to Corbel in one leap.

  “Corbel? . . . Corbel!”

  “Too late, Gav,” his brother croaked.