The Devil's Fire

by Sara Bell

  Before Jeoffry had a chance to respond, a freckle-faced lad who looked to be no older than Balthazar stepped into the hall and fell to one knee as those seated at the table turned their attention to him. Sweeping the felt cap from his head to reveal a mop of unruly red hair that glowed orange in the flickering light of the hearth-fire, the messenger lifted his face and said, “Greetings, Sires. ‘Tis my privilege to bring you tidings from the noble House of Stiles."

  "So noted.” With the crook of his finger, Gareth motioned the boy closer. “Come to the table and deliver your master's message."

  The lad stuffed the cap back on his head and stepped up to the high table, stopping just in front of Gareth. “Begging your pardon, Sire, but are you the one formerly known as Gareth of Lachlan?"

  "I am."

  "Then I'm to give you this.” The messenger pulled a sheaf of papers from the fold of his black traveling cloak and handed them to Gareth.

  Gareth took the papers and placed them on the table in front of him. “Is that all?"

  The lad shook his head. “My master, the King of Stiles, bade me tell you this: should you decide to act upon the information found in those documents, you have his full backing and will receive the aid of his allies, as well."

  "Understood.” Gareth pointed over the boy's shoulder to the door leading into the guest chambers. “Go through there and seek out Lynum. He'll be acting as Kray's chief steward now and will show you to a room where you can rest from your journey."

  "I thank you, Sire.” The messenger swept Gareth another bow and then quit the hall.

  Once the boy was gone, Gareth removed the velvet ribbon tying the papers together and smoothed the wrinkled pages before lifting the top document from the stack. Even after so long a time, Gareth recognized the flowing swirls of Holden's handwriting.

  He should have felt awkward reading the last writings of a dead man, but the message contained on the first page caught Gareth's attention. Soon he was too engrossed in the reading to care.

  Tristam coughed. “Do you plan to share this information with us or should we measure what's in that letter by the expression on your face?"

  "Sorry. I—” Gareth swallowed. “'Tis a letter addressed to me from Holden himself.” A hard knot formed in the back of his throat. “I fear I am unable to read this aloud."

  Alric seemed to understand. Placing his hand over Gareth's, he said, “May I?” Gareth nodded and allowed Alric to take the topmost paper from his slightly trembling fingers.

  Alric held the paper up to better see it. “My dearest Gareth,” he read aloud, “'tis with a heavy heart I write to you this letter. My time is short and I've not the leisure to say all I wish to say, but there is one thing you must know before I begin this letter in earnest. I loved you, Gareth. The time we spent together was the best part of my life, and when I leave this earth my only regret will be that I destroyed whatever feelings you may have held for me. I've no excuse save that I am a selfish man and crave all the pleasures the flesh will allow me. Too bad that craving cost me your affections."

  Alric stopped reading and searched Gareth's face. “Are you certain you want me to read the rest of this?"

  Gareth gave one tight nod.

  Alric began reading anew. “Sorry as I am, I did not write this letter to beg of you forgiveness. Having seen the love you shared with your Kiel, I know ‘twas not my sins alone that drove us apart. You and Kiel were meant to be together and would be still had Denmar not taken Kiel from you. When first I heard the rumors that Denmar was responsible for Kiel's death I was disbelieving. I remember how I taunted you with it. Unfortunately, I found out the truth about Denmar much too late to save myself."

  A low whistle escaped Nadar's lips. “Is he saying what I think he is?"

  Alric didn't answer directly, returning to the letter instead. “In case you haven't guessed, Gareth, I'm dying, probably by the same poison that killed your beloved. I've consulted privately with a healer and he tells me I have no hope whatsoever of preserving my life. You may curse me a coward, but I swear this pain is too great for me to withstand. For that reason, I've arranged to have myself a little accident come the morrow."

  Tristam sank back in his chair, a dazed look on his face. “Suicide?"

  Jeoffry cursed. “And with no proof that Denmar actually poisoned Holden, the High King will never endorse a war. Not on hearsay alone."

  "Fortunately for us,” Alric said, “Holden had the foresight to gather evidence. He writes, ‘Lest my death be in vain, dear Gareth, you should know the moment I suspected Denmar was poisoning me, I became determined to find out why. I fear I haven't the time to go into the details of how I obtained this information, but as you'll realize when you read it, I found out more about Lucien of Denmar than I ever wanted to know. By intercepting certain private correspondences of his, I've learned that Denmar's plan is to marry Sonya of Vale upon my death and form an alliance with your own father's house. After Sonya says her vows, Denmar will see to it that she lives not long.’”

  Gareth glanced across the table at his brother. Nadar's face was ashen and he was shaking with rage.

  "Damn me to the Under Realms.” Nadar wiped his sweating brow with his fingers. “I almost condemned my own sister to death."

  "There will be time enough to berate yourself later, Majesty.” Jeoffry crossed his arms over his chest and looked to Alric. “I'm guessing there's more."

  "I fear there is.” Alric took a deep breath before reading on. “After Sonya dies, it is Denmar's intention to play the grieving widower, ensuring he has your brother's complete trust. Denmar will spend his period of mourning at Vale, doing his best to engage Nadar's wrath against you by filling your brother's head with the notion that you're after his kingdom. When Nadar is sufficiently stirred, Denmar plans to wage war on Kray—with Nadar's backing, of course, and reclaim Alric as his rightful husband. I swear to you, Gareth, I knew nothing of Denmar's marriage to Alric the day I came to see you at Lachlan. By reading Denmar's private papers I've since learned the full truth of their relationship, as well as the truth about the curse Alric carries. According to the documents you no doubt received with this letter, Denmar plans to use Alric's powers to overthrow the High King himself."

  "So there really is proof of high treason.” Wycaster looked as stunned as he sounded. “Denmar must be daft if he thinks to overtake all of Orielle."

  "Not daft, but mad. Power mad.” Nadar's mouth fell into a grim line. “Much as I hate to say it, Denmar's plan does make a certain sense. Had he indeed regained control of Alric ... let me just say that, having seen what you're capable of, Alric, I'd hate to have such a weapon used against me."

  Gareth came out of his stupor, then, slipping a firm arm around Alric's shoulders. “Denmar will never lay so much as a finger on Alric again. Not while there is a breath left in my body."

  Tristam nodded his agreement. “A crucial part of Denmar's plan has already failed. Thanks to Gareth's intervention, the marriage to Sonya never took place."

  "Denmar must have changed his plan when the alliance with Vale was foiled, instructing Bertrand to poison King Gareth, instead.” Wycaster cracked the knuckles of his right hand against his left palm. “What I wouldn't give to wring Bertrand's traitorous neck."

  "They'll be time enough for vengeance later.” Gareth gave Alric's shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Finish it."

  Alric lifted the letter back up to the light. “Enclosed you'll find proof of everything I've said—most of the evidence having been written in Denmar's own hand. It seems he has conspirators aplenty, including two members of the High Council. As far as I know, Denmar has no idea I intercepted his messages ere they had a chance to be delivered. I'm sending all the evidence I have collected—along with this letter—by secret messenger to my father. If all goes as I pray it will, Father will receive this and know what to do with it. And now, sweet Gareth, I must go. Here's praying you find peace and happiness with your new mate. Creator knows you deserve nothing less
. With all the love I never showed you, Holden of Stiles.’”

  Alric slumped in his chair, the paper still clutched in his hand. “That's all of it.” He pointed to the stack in front of Gareth. “We've yet to read the proof Holden sent, but I've no doubt we'll find just what he says we will."

  "Once he sees this, King Elwin will be hard pressed to deny our petition to wage war against Denmar and his allies.” Tristam looked from Gareth, to Alric, down to Nadar, and then back to Gareth, again. “We've only to gather our forces and set a plan."

  "Securing the help of our allies will pose no problem,” Nadar said. “No one loyal to King Elwin would dare refuse to aid our cause. Leastwise, not in light of the evidence against Denmar."

  "'Our’ cause?” Gareth lifted one brow. “Since when do you consider yourself an ally to the House of Kray?"

  "Sonya is my sister, too.” Nadar smacked his hand flat against the table. “I've a right to seek revenge on Denmar for plotting against her, and damned if I won't take it."

  Nadar's decision to back them surprised Gareth, but he hid the reaction well. “So be it, then."

  "Drystan is allied to the Kingdoms of Sanique and Meragoth. I've no doubt they'll answer our call to war.” Tristam looked to Alric. “What of Hume? Will Rowan stand beside us in this fight?"

  "Without a doubt.” Alric's reply was immediate. “Rowan has been aching to strip Denmar bare for neigh on three years now. When he and Glenna learn the truth of my father's death...” Alric broke off long enough to take a cleansing breath before turning back to Tristam with his mouth set in a thin line. “Rowan will be with us every step of the way."

  "And what of you, Alric?” Gareth turned in his chair so that he and Alric were face to face. “You once told me you couldn't bear the thought of revenge against Denmar, not if it were because of you. Do you still feel that way?"

  "This has nothing to do with me, Gareth. After what Denmar did to your Kiel and my father, I'd like nothing better than to kill the man with my bare hands.” Alric's fingers knotted into fists. “I'll see Denmar pay or die trying."

  "And pay he will, though you won't be there to see it."

  As he'd known they would, Gareth's words stopped Alric short.

  "What mean you by that?” Alric's sharp tone—unaccustomed as Gareth was to hearing it—cut through the silence of the room.

  Gareth had known the moment he spoke he was going to have a fight on his hands, but he refused to back down. The point was too important to negotiate.

  "Since the day he learned of your powers, you've been Denmar's target all along.” Gareth took both of Alric's hands in his, willing him to understand. “Were you to be captured in the heat of battle,” he choked over the words but managed to force them out, “not only would he win the day, but your life would be forfeit."

  Alric shook his head. “You know what I'm capable of. I can help you win this thing."

  "But at what price to you?” Gareth stroked his thumb against the warm skin of Alric's palm. “I saw what it cost you the day you used your gift to defend us against Winthrop's forces. I'll not put you through that again."

  Alric opened his mouth, ready to argue, when Tristam spoke up. “Listen to him, Alric. If you go into battle with us, you'll become not only a target but a distraction that could cost Gareth dearly. Are you willing to take that chance?"

  Gareth knew by the look in Alric's eyes that Tristam had hit on the one point Alric was helpless to argue against. Still not happy about their decision, he pulled his hands away from Gareth and leaned back in his chair. “What, then? I stay here and wait for Denmar to come and attack Kray?"

  "He won't get to you, Highness.” Wycaster made the words a vow. “Any man who yet tries to take you will be met with the edge of my sword."

  "Meaning no disrespect, Commander, but my men and I got to Alric easily enough.” Nadar spoke matter-of-factly, and Gareth was hard pressed to take offense. “Until we know for sure how far into your forces Bertrand's treachery has reached, it would be foolish to gamble with Alric's safety by leaving him here."

  "Nor am I willing to trust my wife's safety to an army unknown to me.” Tristam grew quiet, seemingly making up his mind. Finally, he said, “I propose you and Maris travel to Drystan, Alric. You'll be safe under the eyes of my own personal guard. And to make sure that Kray is evenly protected in your absence, Nadar and I will each split our forces and leave half the soldiers who accompanied us here. What think you of that idea, Gareth?"

  Instead of answering Tristam directly, Gareth looked down the table at Nadar. “Were you serious about joining us in this fight?"

  Nadar swept a two-fingered X over his heart. “By The Creator, I swear it."

  "Then my thinking is this: Denmar has only two solid allies that I'm aware of. The Houses of Winthrop and Zarendar. On Zarendar's throne sits a piddling king with little help to offer, leaving only Winthrop to contend with. Denmar's forces are strong, but they'll be no match for the likes of Kray, Hume, and Drystan combined.” Gareth turned to Wycaster. “Are you strong enough to command our combined armies?"

  There was no hesitation on Wycaster's part. “I am."

  "In that case, I say we take the King of Stiles up on his offer of aid and set him against Winthrop's forces. We'll call on Sanique and Meragoth, as well as Nadar's own allies, only if we have to—say if Denmar brings in some surprise assistance—but otherwise leave them out of the fray so we'll have reserves should the tide of the war turn against us."

  "That's well and good, brother, but what about me and the remainder of my forces?” Nadar looked none too happy to be left out of the planning. “What would you have us do?"

  "When Denmar finds out you're backing us, ‘tis possible he'll turn his anger on your family. After all, he's already targeted our sister.” Gareth's gut clenched. “I won't rest until I know Sonya and Ellyce are under your personal protection."

  Nadar wasn't ready to give up. “Jeoffry will make certain our sisters are safe and the rest of my family, besides."

  Gareth shook his head. “I've a more important task for Jeoffry.” Gareth looked to his father's old friend. “If you agree to it, that is?"

  Jeoffry bowed his head in acquiescence. “I am at your service, as well you know."

  "In that case, I ask that you call up a full legion of Nadar's men and that you and your forces accompany Alric and Maris to Drystan. If Denmar finds out where Alric is, he'll waste no time attacking Drystan, and there's no one I trust to see to Alric's safety more than you, Jeoffry.” Gareth shifted his eyes back to the head of the table, then. “Are you agreeable to that, Nadar?"

  "I am."

  "Tristam?"

  Tristam gave Gareth a firm nod. “Let it be as you say."

  Gareth turned so that he was once again looking into Alric's eyes. “Alric?"

  He was quiet so long, Gareth feared Alric wouldn't answer, but finally he said, “I'll abide by your wishes."

  Not exactly a resounding endorsement, but Gareth would take what he could get. “Gentlemen, it would seem our course is set.” Gareth gripped the arms of his chair in a hold that threatened to splinter the wood. “May The Creator of All have mercy on Denmar when I find his filthy hide, because I shall grant the vile scourge no quarter."

  * * * *

  The sun was just beginning to overtake the night sky when Gareth finally adjourned the war council and ventured upstairs. Alric had quit the hall hours ago, and Gareth fully expected to find him asleep in their bed.

  To Gareth's surprise, Alric was sitting—still clothed—on the stone window seat, watching the dawn as it crept over the dark horizon.

  "You'll catch your death of cold, sitting there like that."

  Alric turned at the sound of Gareth's voice. Though he tried to gift Gareth with one of his smiles, it was a thin effort at best.

  "I haven't been sitting here long enough to freeze. Indeed, I only just returned to our chamber myself."

  Gareth crossed the distance between them, com
ing to sit beside Alric on the window bench. Alric moved over to accommodate him, and Gareth took Alric's cool fingers in his.

  "Where have you been? You left the hall so long ago, I assumed you'd be asleep by now."

  "I might have been, if Balthazar hadn't sought me out,” Alric said. “He's identified the poison. Tisrocaine, just as he thought. Not only did Bertrand place a killing dose in your glass, but Balthazar found a decent store of it in Bertrand's rooms. Balthazar's working on an antidote even as we speak.” He exhaled, his breath creating wispy swirls against the frigid air. “Too bad his knowledge came too late to save my father."

  Gareth gave Alric's fingers a tight squeeze. “Denmar and Bertrand will pay for their treachery, Alric. I swear it upon my life."

  Still holding on to Gareth's fingers, Alric turned so that he was once again gazing out the window. “I don't care what you do to Denmar, but on the morrow, I'm ordering Bertrand be sent to Winthrop. ‘Tis King Thaddeus's right to deal with Adela's killer as he sees fit."

  Gareth could see the merit in Alric's plan, but there was a major flaw they couldn't afford to ignore. “And if Thaddeus refuses to believe Bertrand alone was responsible for Adela's death?"

  "Then so be it.” Alric shrugged. “I fully expect Thaddeus to back Denmar in this war of yours, whether he believes in Bertrand's guilt or not.” He sighed. “His hatred has burned against the House of Kray far too long to be so easily assuaged. Even so, I would see that justice be delivered."

  "And so it shall.” Gareth brought Alric's hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “At least we know the truth, that you aren't responsible for Adela's death."

  "Not directly, but I played my part.” Alric pulled his knees up to his chest before wrapping his arms around them and tilting his head so that he was looking directly at Gareth. “In truth, we all failed Adela. To sentence one so young to a marriage with a man she despised ... ‘tis no wonder Adela sought a way out and damn the cost."

  Gareth leaned back against the wall, his eyes wide. “Surely you aren't feeling sorry for the bitch? Not after all she did to you and yours."