“Of course,” she replied, thinking back to the Twileen she hired and assassinated in order to properly forge the king’s declaration. She had worked with that fool Eramus for a month in order to set up the planned destruction of the envoy. She was not the agent who discovered the secret Treaty and informed the Council, but she was the one who informed the Council about the king’s son being on the mission, which ignited the Council’s plot. It was to be the legacy that promoted her to Chief Councilor one day, after the Council successfully overthrew the rule of King Helfrick.
“There has been some… trouble with the envoy. Apparently the group bumbled into the 9th Regiment far to the south and an ignorant and overzealous fool of a Sage found them out.”
“The entire 9th Regiment knows of the envoy to the Greimere?” Isidora asked, overwhelmed by a mixture of dread and excitement. Would she be sent to destroy an entire Regiment of Sabans? Could she even manage that?
“Fortunately only a small group of soldiers loyal to the Sage are aware,” Pelagius answered. “The Saban’s of the 9th Regiment thought little of the group, but the Sage was more suspicious due to the prince’s affinity for some Stone Seer accompanying them. The Sage ambushed the group, found items labeled in the Greimere language and branded them traitors, sending them to Galveronne. A Faeir was killed in the ambush: the Stone Seer this bastard prince was infatuated with.”
“If only a few know of this, how are we advised of it?” Isidora asked.
“The Faeir who captured them, a Vi-Sage Falfa, made it back to Thromdale,” Herod answered. “He wisely brought it to our attention first and we have managed to keep this information from the king so far. That will not be the case for long, I imagine.”
“The Vi-Sage informed us that one of the Envoy members escaped him through trickery. The Mage who accompanied the envoy, Pyrrhus, pretended to be ignorant of the mission, helped Falfa capture his partners and then broke away from Falfa and fled.”
“I know of Pyrrhus,” Isidora said. “He’s not the kind for fleeing unless there is a plan behind it. He is skilled and very crafty.”
“He is a Caelum Loyalist!” Herod exclaimed. “He is loyal to the king over his Council and therefore lacks the conviction of a true Faeir. Despite your observation, it is more likely that he fled to save his own skin!”
Pelagius spoke over his excited collegue. “Vi-Sage Falfa brought most of the offerings back with him, but the forged Declaration of War was not among them. It is either among the ones sent to Galveronne or the Mage Pyrrhus has it in his possession. We need you to travel to the south, to Galveronne and reclaim it.”
“There can be no evidence of our plot, Isidora,” Pelagius said. “All who are involved must be dealt with in a manner that prevents this from ever coming to light.”
“What are you asking me to do, specifically, Chief Councilors?” Isidora wanted to be very clear about her mission, though she already knew what they were asking of her.
“It is not enough to reclaim the Declaration,” Herod explained. “Everyone who is aware of its existence must be dealt with… even Pyrrhus.”
“We understand the conflict of faith this may produce for you…” Xenon said.
“No, I have no conflicts about my duty, Chief Councilor,” Isidora replied. “My faith in the Council’s decision is strong. I will see this done.”
“The king is unaware of his son and the envoy being sentenced to Galveronne, but it is inevitable that such information will reach him. Our plot to have the Greimere Emperor assassinate the boy for us is over. Now we must control the damage and bide our time.”
“I will not fail you, Councilors.” Isidora bowed and exited the Assembly room. The next day she and her Stone Seer, Filth, were on the road leading south out of Thromdale and the Councilors were on their way back to the East, to return to the Crystalline Cathedral.
So caught up in her thoughts was she, that she nearly missed the familiar, brilliant-orange garb of the Flame Sect that was about to pass her. She looked up to see a haggard, weary face, but one that she recognized. She reined her mount in and blocked the road before the Faeir could be past her.
“Excuse me… uh, noble lady?” the Faeir man asked, annoyed and confused by her actions and her clothing. “I need to pass.”
“Is that you, Pyrrhus?” Isidora asked, lifting her hood. Her shimmering hair fell about her face and she shook it away, coyly. “What are you doing here?”
“Lady Isidora, I did not recognize you!” Pyrrhus said, taken aback by her appearance. “You’re certainly downplaying your best features this afternoon.”
“I’m on business that necessitates discretion. I’m sure you can appreciate that kind of business, yes?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lady Councilor,” Pyrrhus replied, suspiciously. He moved to go around her. “I apologize, but I cannot socialize at the moment. I have extremely urgent business in Thromdale.”
“You go to inform the king of the envoy’s failure?” Isidora asked, looking about to make sure no one else heard her. She looked down at Filth. “Turn and mute.”
“How? How does the Council already know of something like that?” Pyrrhus asked, no longer in as much of a hurry. “And there is no failure… only a minor setback.”
“Please, Pyrrhus, the Council is near omniscient,” Isidora said. “Besides, you did little to keep Vi-Sage Falfa from running back to Thromdale, screaming about traitors. It is the will of the Elements that we were able to intercept him before any real damage was done.”
“Falfa! There was nothing more I could do about him at the moment. Has the lunatic been debriefed?”
“The situation has been handled, but it seems things are not completely what we imagined them to be if you are here on the road into Thromdale. Let us move away into the trees, lest every imbecile merchant be privy to our conversation.”
The three of them moved off into the woods and away from the road and any travelers. Pyrrhus looked exhausted and he kept glancing back at the road and asking if they were far enough. Isidora took them deeper into the trees until they came upon a small pond.
“The Council believed you to have fled in fear of Falfa, Pyrrhus. They believe you abandoned your post and that the envoy is rotting in Galveronne. In fact, I am on my way there now to secure their release. I knew all along that one such as yourself would not flee, however. It looks as if I was correct. Tell me what happened, Pyrrhus… and here, have some water. You look drained.”
“Thank you, Lady Councilor,” Pyrrhus said, taking a long pull from her glass. “You flatter me. I did flee in fear, however; fear for my comrades. Falfa went mad when the boy, Raegith, attacked the men in his regiment. He executed a Paladin right before us all, caused the death of a Faeir and had the others tortured. I had to endure it all, stone-faced, to keep from joining the others, or else we would all be in Galveronne and the mission would have been doomed.”
Isidora listened intently, barely containing her excitement.
“You mean the envoy is not at Galveronne? You rescued them?”
“Indeed, Councilor. By the time I broke away from Falfa and came upon the escort, the Sabans had brutalized the men, including the king’s son, and even defiled a poor girl who had been masquerading as a Paladin. It was a repulsive sight and the Sabans were slaughtered to a man when I freed the envoys. The three survivors continued on to the Hell Cliffs and, Flame-willing, are with their Greimere escort. They do not carry any loot, but I was able to get the Declaration from Falfa and put it in the boy’s hands. I left them in order to catch up to Falfa, but when I realized how much ground he had covered, I knew I had to get word to the King as quickly as possible.”
“Amazing… simply amazing, Pyrrhus. Your perseverance has provided our lands with a success where there should have been a debacle.” Isidora turned back to Pyrrhus and placed an inquisitive finger to her lips. “I am curious about something, Pyrrhus, if you will indulge me. I was told that a certain incident c
aused Falfa’s wrath to be brought upon the group… an incident involving the bastard and a Stone Seer. Is this true?”
Pyrrhus hesitated, growing more guarded about the inquisition. “The Stone Seer is dead now and the boy is traumatized enough by it. No matter his indiscretion with the girl, he is still the king’s son. The Council would benefit best from leaving the boy alone upon his return. He knows little about the world and even less about our customs.”
“So it is true!” Isidora replied. “The half-breed stuck it to a Faeir woman and a Stone Seer at that. Then he attacked an entire squad of trained soldiers for her?”
“He was quite taken with her,” Pyrrhus continued. “When she was killed, I saw darkness in his eyes; eyes that before were full of innocence and chivalry. I would not wish to see such corruption in my lifetime again. Now if you will excuse me, I need to see the king.”
“See the king in such a state, Pyrrhus?” Isidora asked. “Ride with me to the Council annex at Thromdale, clean yourself up while we make our report to the Council and then I will personally escort you to the palace so that you may…”
“Respectfully, Lady Councilor, King Helfrick needs to know the situation with as much urgency as I can muster. I will give the Council my full report in time, but this is news about the king’s son! Excuse me.”
Isidora struck quickly. The motion began in her shoulder and rippled down her arm fluidly, like a wave that moved from one arm to the next without breaking, until it reached her other hand. As the hand closest to Pyrrhus flipped up at the end of the wave motion, an impact hit Pyrrhus, knocking him backwards. It was Tidal Magic, the offensive technique of the Aqua Sect and though no water hit him, the power of a wave was still there and it knocked the air from his lungs.
As Pyrrhus rolled to his feet, water from the nearby pond shot forward and coalesced around his head, enclosing it in a bubble. He was without oxygen and he had barely taken a breath from the first attack.
Isidora cackled as she watched the Mage struggle with her execution technique. It was a skill she had practiced in darkness, away from her colleagues. Sages were not supposed to harness combat techniques like these, especially ones who were on the fast-track to Councilor. Combat techniques were for Mages, those who served along the Saban soldiers and the Twileen hunters. Scholarly Sages like her were supposed to be diplomatic, but diplomacy had never gotten her as far as fear and punishment had.
“Just let it go and breathe in, Pyrrhus!” she laughed. “You’re exhausted and I am too skilled for you…”
A fireball slammed into Isidora, sending her spiraling to the ground. Her robes ignited instantly and she struggled to get clear of them. There were flames all around her, burning her skin and scorching her hair. She rolled on the ground, but they would not go out. She had to refocus her concentration on survival, which meant her Death Bubble would drop. Letting her magic dissipate, she found purchase on some cloth and ripped the blazing robes from her body and threw them at Pyrrhus.
Flames erupted from his fingers and destroyed the robe, then came for her. Having nothing left on her but a garter, boots and a pair of lacey panties, Isidora had no physical protection from his attack. Throwing up a small shield of moisture, she bolted away from the blast and dove into the nearby pond, the magic flames barely grazing her.
He’s not as tired as he looks! She giggled with glee under the water as she realized how much she underestimated the prodigy Mage.
Bubbles began forming around her body and she realized that Pyrrhus was not done with her. He was boiling the pond water around her. He’s really good!
Isidora shot out of the water and threw another wave blast at Pyrrhus, this time fueling it with the heated water surrounding her body. The flames were doused, but Isidora could not right herself in the air and blast Pyrrhus at the same time. She landed hard on her side and she heard a crack in her ribcage when it hit a rock underneath the moss. Pain exploded in her chest and her first breath was like breathing in electricity. She tried to get to her feet, but another rib snapped with the effort and she rolled back to the ground.
Pyrrhus stood over her, flames dancing in his open palms. She was not completely sure the Caelum Loyalist would abide by Faeir law in this circumstance. Faeir did have the right to defend themselves against any fatal threat, but she was no longer a threat to him in her condition.
“My ribs…” Isidora said, grunting with the effort of speaking. She hated pain almost as much as she hated Loyalists. “No fair… I broke my ribs…”
“Luck has a lot to do with victory, my Lady,” Pyrrhus said, seething. “Councilors and Mages alike are equalized by it.”
“You can’t! I’m Faeir… no longer a threat!” Isidora said, holding her arms aside to show her concession. She saw Pyrrhus’s eyes briefly dart to her exposed breasts and she smiled. “I’m at your mercy, Mage.”
“You’ve certainly retained your beauty from our days at the College, Lady Councilor, but if you think that such an offer would… wait, where is your…” Pyrrhus said.
A slender piece of shiny metal burst through Pyrrhus’s chest, just under his heart. The space behind him rippled and Filth appeared from the ether. Pyrrhus’s eyes fluttered and he looked behind him, bringing his flames to bear. Without ever looking up at the Mage, Filth pistoned his blade back and forth. Several holes were punched through the flame-haired Faeir rapidly before his hands dropped to his sides.
“Cursed magic?” Pyrrhus whispered through blood-stained lips. “You allow your Stone Seer…”
“Filth has a talent that I simply could not ignore,” Isidora replied, letting the Stone Seer help her to her feet. “The ability to simply disappear and reappear at a whim; it’s beautiful magic. I saved him from execution to use that magic and he is completely loyal to me. You see how he killed you with so little hesitation, just to protect me.”
“Not even the Council will forgive this,” Pyrrhus said.
“You might be surprised what the Council is willing to overlook. Why do you think they sent me to Galveronne? To rescue a bunch of incompetent Sabans and the living reminder of the king’s immorality?”
“If your devotion to the Council is strong enough for you to break Faeir law, to kill a peer and acquaintance,” Pyrrhus sputtered. “Then may that devotion be your undoing, Isidora.”
“Enough drama, Pyrrhus. Our past relationship notwithstanding, I was given the extremely unique opportunity to kill another of my kind, consequence-free.” Isidora knelt down close to him and looked him in the eyes. “You and I are participating in a historic event. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”
Isidora pushed her lips to his and kissed him hard. Filth grunted, as if he objected to the action, but Isidora paid him no heed. Water gushed from the corners of her mouth around Pyrrhus’s and he struggled, but could not break the kiss. A bubble slipped over the Mage’s head and Isidora broke away, spewing water and laughter to the sky. She dropped her weight against Pyrrhus and bowled him over, straddling the writhing Mage as he drowned inside the bubble. She groped herself and moaned as she rode his death throes, but her injured ribs got the better of her and she fell off of him in pain before he finally went still.
“Great Tides, that was everything I could have imagined,” she said, wallowing in her bliss. “Oh Pyrrhus, you were the best I’ve had… the best kill, anyways. I can only say so much of that other thing we never shared.”
Isidora rolled over and crawled up to Pyrrhus, looking down on his lifeless face. “Don’t feel bad, Pyrrhus. With all of your jostling and jittering, you’ve come closer than anyone else.”
She rolled off and looked up at Filth, who made sure to keep his eyes averted from her nearly naked form. She scowled at him, looking him over.
“You sure as hell took long enough to intervene, Filth. Three different times he had the opportunity to broil me. Is that the Twileen dagger I gave you?”
Filth lifted the silver knife to show his master, giving no other affirmative gesture.
�
�It needs cleaned and inspected. I don’t want it falling into disrepair. I spent a lot of money on that for you, of which I now appreciate.”
Isidora looked over at Pyrrhus. “Strip the robes from him and see what you can make from them. I cannot ride back into Thromdale giving every citizen an eyeful. Then get his body to the pond. I’ll do the rest.”
Chapter 18
Raegith did not want to open his eyes. He did not want to get up off the stone slab that was his bed. He did not want to eat or leave his cell and he most certainly did not want to face Torga again. He could still feel the pain and humility of his last confrontation with the Rathgar.
The breakfast that Raegith ate tasted just as horrible coming up as it had going down. The blood that followed it made it worse. Torga had called him out as the entire population filed out into the arena after eating. The guards explained nothing to him on the way in and as far as he knew, everything was regulated by the inmates inside of the Pit, which meant that he had to abide by the rule of might. When Torga pointed at him and beckoned him toward the center of the arena, everyone spread out and began chanting. There was nowhere for Raegith to go as he looked around. He was blocked in and everyone was looking at him. The faces were all yelling and grinning; most were Rathgar, but there were some that were the dark-skinned, long-eared type and some of the fur-collared type. All wanted to see them fight.
They were all to be disappointed, however. Raegith was jittery, scared and half the size of the Rathgar. The first three blows crippled Raegith with pain. He could not dodge or retaliate. The Rathgar was so strong and powerful that it was overwhelming. As Raegith braced himself against the ground on his hands and knees, vomiting blood, Torga walked around soaking up the applause and cheers of the others.
“Torga don’t know what the fuck it is, but Torga know it bleeds!” Torga exclaimed.
Raegith tried to get up, but he was kicked back down. Torga dropped on top of him, raining blows down on him. Raegith’s vision darkened and his teeth rattled in his head. Blood was everywhere and all he could hear was a loud, dull ringing. The others laughed and cheered and Raegith tried not to think of the meaty object slapping against his cheek and forehead at the delight of his attacker.
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