“Help him,” Loethar called to his companions and Jewd ran quickly out to assist Gavriel, who was openly crying now.
“So help me—” Gavriel began, staring at Loethar.
“It will be done,” Loethar said, nodding as he understood what Gavriel wanted. “Please hold my child; I will mourn her and bury her later. But take Corbel to the woman he loves. She will want to lay hands on him before it’s too late to say farewell.” Gavriel seemed to understand instantly the message and urged Jewd to hurry, taking the lifeless bundle with reverence and nodding at Loethar before he hurried after Jewd and Corbel.
“Before we proceed,” Piven said, “I have some questions for you.”
* * *
As they shuffled inside the compound under the horrified gaze of Lily and Kilt, standing with his arm protectively around her, they all saw Evie arrive with Ravan. She stifled part of her scream but no one outside seemed to care anyway. Her eyes widened with shock and distress.
“He’s dying, Evie,” Gavriel begged.
She rushed to where they laid him down. “I can save him. I can! I can!” she promised, her voice rising to a snarl. “Corbel, Corbel, it’s Evie.” She kissed his cheek and kissed his hand, which she then put against her own cheek. “I’m here. You’re going to be fine. Just let go now. I can feel it. I can feel death coming but I’m going to chase it away. You just have to relax. Can you hear me, Reg? Reg!” she said through helpless tears, her expression distraught. “I can’t help unless you let your life go. But I’ll bring you back. You know I will.”
Lily was weeping and had turned into Jewd’s big arms for solace; Kilt was looking on helplessly, his face a mask; Gavriel was not winning the battle against his own tears and only Ravan stood by stoically, his expression concerned but even.
“He’s slipping away,” she said, her hands stained with his blood. “He’s not letting go. I can’t do it until he gives in.”
“Do what she says, Corb!” Gavriel pleaded.
Corbel de Vis’s eyes flickered open. “Evie,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.”
“I know, I know you do,” she said, crying helplessly now. “And I love you.”
“But not how I want,” Corbel croaked.
“Oh, Reg, please, not now,” she begged.
“We both know it,” he said. She sobbed and he tried to smile in comfort but he failed; all he managed was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He stroked her face. “I do not give you my permission to save me.”
“No!” she said, shaking her head. “You will not die.”
“It is my wish. And you have a responsibility as a doctor to follow my instructions.”
“As a doctor I must preserve life!”
“Not with magic,” he choked out and coughed as blood exploded from the wound.
She wept harder.
Corbel struggled to pull her close. She bent down to him. “I have had the best of your life and you mine. Let me go, Evie. I want to. I have been sad all my life . . . and I am tired of it.”
She sat back and he nodded and she seemed to understand. He was already looking away, trying to find his brother. “Gav?”
“Corb—” But Gavriel couldn’t finish. He dissolved into a heartbroken silence.
“Mend everything,” Corbel sputtered. “Loethar’s trying. Help him.” Gavriel shook his head with anguish and bent his head low to his brother, who pulled him forward and whispered, “That Lily’s got great tits.”
Gavriel gave a teary, helpless laugh as he watched his brother finally let go. He shot a distraught look of disbelief at Evie.
“He’s gone.” She shook her head in anguish. Her lips were bloodless as she spoke. “He made me promise. But there is something I’m going to do,” she said in a hard voice, wiping her eyes. “I just have to work out how to do it.” And she stood up, helped by Ravan, letting the arm of Corbel de Vis slump dead to the ground as she stomped away, crying wretchedly.
Outside, Piven nodded. “Intriguing, but thank you for your candor,” he said to Loethar. Stracker was nearby, still suspended and seething. “But you and I are at a stalemate. We are like kings on a chessboard. We could keep moving around each other forever.”
“Something has to give?”
“Precisely.”
“Why don’t we let fate play her part?”
“All right and in the meantime you’re going to give up your magic and give us all a show with Stracker . . . am I right?”
“Yes. But with the caveat that should you try anything, Piven, Roddy will secure me and our fragile truce is broken.”
“I have no reason to break faith with you over this. Stracker is tiresome. He’s like an angry ox blundering through a bed of violets. He has no finesse, little subtlety and he understands only what he can achieve with his fists. I thought he could be useful but he is the opposite. Killing Corbel de Vis was his final indiscretion.”
“You don’t see Valya’s death as offensive?”
“Not at all. She was a rabid, obsessive liability and you are well rid of her. As for your child, I’m not sure what to say to that. I can’t say I’m sorry. One less Valisar is a good outcome.”
“You are yet to answer for that,” Loethar said gravely.
“Your child was already dead even as she unwrapped the rags around it. Smothered probably. Perhaps Valya had already slipped into madness.”
Loethar had to agree it did make sense. “Perhaps.”
They eyed each other in a difficult pause. “Let us deal with Stracker,” Loethar said. “The rest will take care of itself.”
Piven nodded and looked at Greven.
Stracker slumped with a loud sigh as he was released from the magic.
Marth moved closer to Leo. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m perfectly happy for Stracker to die.”
“But what if—”
“He won’t, Marth. I can feel Loethar’s anger. I can feel it fizzing through my own magic. Once this last little act has played out, we will announce ourselves and finish them all.”
“As you wish.”
“Make sure Narine is ready.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Nearby, not entirely displeased by Loethar’s release from his marriage but hardly impressed by Valya’s bloody end or what looked to be Loethar’s dead child clutched in that bundle, Elka watched the older man talk quietly with Leo. She couldn’t hear what was discussed but an educated guess suggested that Leo was still content to watch from a distance and not play his hand.
She crouched lower as Leo’s advisor scrambled back to where the Vested sat. He was obviously a wily old campaigner; if anyone might spot her it would be him and she wasn’t going to take any chances. He whispered to the woman who seemed to take charge of the others and then he murmured something to the rosy-cheeked woman, who smiled and nodded.
None of them seemed to be moving into action, so Elka returned her attention to below where Loethar was now circling his half-brother. She couldn’t imagine how or why Stracker would take on Loethar if he knew he was protected by magic.
She checked again that Roddy was nearby and inwardly thanked her god for his blessing in keeping Loethar safe. Her heart was still bleeding for Gavriel, though, and she dearly wished she could see what was happening behind those walls in the convent. She focused her full attention on Loethar as someone threw him a sword.
* * *
Stracker sneered. He had never looked bigger or more ferocious. “Valisar?”
“That’s right,” Loethar said evenly, beginning to circle. To one side Piven beamed and Vulpan watched from the carriage like a spider in the shadows.
“Then our mother was raped!” Stracker spat on the ground between them.
“Not so. She loved Darros. Never stopped all the while she was with your father.”
“Then my mother was a whore!” Stracker accused.
Loethar actually laughed. “Well, you’re certainly cutting yourself free of all
your allies, Stracker. And now you have no one. Not even your faithful Greens, who have seen through your ruse and your treachery.”
“They’ll cringe before me when I kill you, Loethar.”
“You’ve never bested me yet.”
Stracker’s face adopted a rictus of a grin. “There’s a first time for everything.”
“Indeed. Including dying. Watch that open stance I’ve warned you about so many times before, Stracker.”
Stracker spat on the ground again. “You’ve gone soft, brother. Too many years of playing emperor.”
“That’s half-brother, Stracker,” Loethar said and danced in to strike the first blow.
She let Kilt hold her but knew he could see her thoughts were far away from this place and from him. And she couldn’t blame him for trying to console her, but his tenderness only made it worse.
“Genevieve, my heart hurts for you.” He squeezed her gently. “I mean it really hurts. I am sharing your pain whether I like it or not.”
She dragged her gaze from the distance. “I can’t believe he’s gone. He’s been the most important person in my life since I was old enough to make friends with an adult.” She held out her hands. “Look at these! They’re useless. They’re meant to be healing hands—magical healing hands—and I just let my closest friend die when I had the chance to save him.”
“If you had,” he tried gently, “he might have hated you.”
“He could never hate me.”
“Genevieve, look at me.” Reluctantly she turned her gaze to him. “Corbel was honest with you. He needed you to respect his pain and especially his sorrows. He said he’d been sad for most of his life.”
“Oh, don’t, Kilt,” she said. Hearing those words again made her crumple.
“No, you have to hear this. Imagine why he’s been sad all his life. It’s because other than the tiny little ray of hope that you might notice him as something other than your big brother figure, he had nothing really to live for. He said as much. He’d lost his family, his home, his life . . . even his memories had been denied him in a way. He had to keep Brennus’s secret. And then after years and years of being dutiful the opportunity arrives. He comes back and he brings his most precious of possessions—his only possession . . . you.”
She began to cry again.
“He clings to the hope that now, back in his world, walking the landscape he knows, tearing off everything that smacked of his foreign life . . . clothes, pretenses . . .”
“Beard,” she said, sniffing.
“Yes, all the disguise, all the lies fall away and he tells you the truth, believing after what is it? Twenty anni?” She nodded. “That you’d finally see him for the man he was.”
“I did.”
“But you saw him as Corbel de Vis.”
“Every bit as wonderful as he was as Reg Dervis.”
“But not the noble Corbel de Vis that he’d hoped would make you catch your breath and swoon at his feet. He was living a story in his head. He’d built up such a picture of how it was going to be when he brought you back—if he brought you back—and of course when you didn’t react that way, it shattered his long-held dream.”
“And then you,” she said, putting her face in her hands.
“Yes, and then me. Do you regret it?”
“No, Kilt.” She took his hand. “I’m grieving. Let me grieve.”
“There’s no time, my love. Loethar is fighting for his life out there and while I never thought I’d utter these words, something inside me will break if he dies. Right now he’s fighting on our side . . . he’s fighting for you and for the people of the Set. He’s fighting for good.”
“We have to do our bit,” she said.
“Exactly. And the more I think about it, the more I believe that you are the solution.”
“That’s what the Qirin said.”
“Then that’s two of us who believe it and we won’t be the only ones. It has to be your magic. It has to be the famed Valisar Enchantment . . . the Legacy, as it is known.”
“But I don’t know what it is.”
“Well, it’s within you. You must find it and you must use it. They say you can coerce people, make them do your bidding,” he pressed.
“Force them, you mean,” she said, frowning.
“Yes. I suppose that’s the harsh way of looking at it. Do you know where that magic is?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t had a chance to think about it.”
“Then now is the moment. There probably won’t be another chance, or a more fitting time.”
“But if all the Valisars have their aegis, isn’t it a stalemate? No one wins. Loethar can’t keep fighting Piven, and if Leo has found his aegis, he can’t keep fighting me, or Loethar. You’ve said we are invincible. I can’t coerce them.”
“I agree. Peace cannot be achieved until the Valisars reach an agreement. But that can’t happen. We know Piven wants his siblings and Loethar dead. Leo will kill Loethar if he has just half a chance. Loethar . . .” He shrugged. “I’m going around in circles.”
“The only solution then is to somehow rid all the Valisars of the aegis magic.”
His gaze snapped to hers in bewilderment. “Are you mad? That’s your only protection.”
“But it’s the aegis magic that is preventing harmony.”
“There is no harmony any more.”
Evie stood and paced, her mind roaming now. “Where is Ravan?” she asked.
“I’ll find him,” Kilt said.
“Hurry,” she urged and then she was lost in her thoughts again. She felt a voice talking to her from the rim of her mind; she knew that voice. It was a familiar companion from her study days and perhaps even earlier than that, as she moved through her most awkward years and felt at her most isolated. The voice was an invisible friend who spoke to her, helped her to sort through problems to solutions. It was at times her conscience, her extra sense, a mirror that reflected back her negative feelings in an effort to turn them into a positive energy. And right now it was trying to make her see something, something that felt just out of her line of vision, just out of her reach. She stretched in her mind but still it evaded her.
And time was running out.
Loethar knew Stracker would get bored parrying with swords in the same way that Stracker got bored with intelligent conversation. And so Loethar knew that if he kept feinting and teasing Stracker—giving him small openings to tempt him but then shutting them down just as fast—sooner or later his half-brother was going to become wearied of the lack of action, the lack of blood. He simply had to stay out of that bludgeoning sword until Stracker was bored enough to be reckless.
“Stracker?” Piven called. “Can you listen and fight at the same time?”
The big man grunted.
“Can’t you see what Loethar’s doing?”
“Eh?”
Loethar gritted his teeth.
“Well, it’s obvious. He’s deliberately baiting you. He’s just about inviting you to take a slash. Don’t lose your temper. That last thrust was dangerous.”
“Piven, I don’t think explaining the rudiments of my strategy is altogether fair,” Loethar commented, hiding his irritation as he jumped forward suddenly and slashed at Stracker, missing him by a whisker.
“Oh pay attention, Stracker, and at least make some sport of this, for Lo’s sake.”
“Stracker, you believe you’ll kill me, don’t you?” Loethar said, feinting left and hearing the whiz of Stracker’s enormous blade cutting a little too close.
“I will kill you, Loethar, just for being Valisar.”
“And you know Piven will kill you straight afterward? If not him, then Leo, who has probably found his aegis by now. Did Piven tell you that Leo is alive? I can assure you he is. I have seen him, met him even.” He paused as Stracker went still. “Er, Stracker, you’re not meant to stop attacking me in a fight to the death.”
“You’ve met him?”
Loethar kept his guard up
but sighed theatrically. “Thoroughly unpleasant, whinging sort of runt. The sort you’d personally like to chew up before your first meal of the day.”
Stracker actually laughed. Loethar knew his half-brother had always found him amusing, especially when he bantered to Stracker across the battlefield or any sort of competitive activity.
“So we agree on Leonel?” Stracker asked, taking a monumental hack at Loethar’s neck. Loethar blocked it but it left his arm near numb.
“That was good, Stracker. The closest you’ve got yet.”
“I can get closer still,” the big man warned.
“Can you see how he’s wearing you down, you big oaf? You’re going to be too tired to lift that wretched great sword soon and meanwhile his small frame is dancing around like a pillodillo.” There was real venom in Piven’s voice but the word made even Loethar laugh.
No one in this company had ever heard Stracker laugh with easy amusement. But hearing his half-brother described as an effeminate who was paid to dance for men who preferred the company of men seemed to tickle his fancy, and he erupted alongside his half-brother in genuine mirth. Loethar suspected they had the same sort of mental picture of Loethar draped in gauzy robes.
“Right, stop, both of you,” Piven commanded. Stracker dropped his blade and Loethar did as well, more out of surprise than obedience. “This is not entertaining. There’s no heat in this fight. There’s no blood. You two seem to be treating this as a great jest. Loethar’s right, Stracker, I will kill you if you’re still standing at the end of this so you might as well die knowing you took your Valisar kin down with you.”
Stracker’s amusement died and his tatua stretched in the familiar grimace.
“And to ensure you fight hard, can I ask you both to look at that man over there. Captain Gorin, I think his name is.” Loethar looked at Gorin, a feeling of dread unfurling in his belly. “Greven, kill Gorin, will you. Beat him with your only fist until his face is no longer recognizable and his green tatua have been obliterated.”
Loethar felt his mouth fall open in astonishment. “Ah, Loethar, I see I shock you. Isn’t this precisely the sort of thing you used to do to get what you wanted out of people? I seem to recall boys younger than me being slaughtered in numbers, I know you let Stracker loose on the Vested, that you roasted my father and ate him before my mother and I. Did you think I wouldn’t remember those events? You taught me how to be evil, Loethar. You and Stracker. You’re as bad as each other. You used Stracker, turned him loose whenever you needed a dark deed done. So now here’s a taste of your own medicine. Watch the men you love fall. And by the way, use that strange guttural language to tell your men there is no point in fighting back. Greven cannot be harmed or wearied. He is relentless.”
King’s Wrath Page 46
