Ruins of Fate (Fate Circle Saga Book 3)

by Alledria Hurt

  "Where are we?"

  "A safe place to hide," he said. "Trust me. We will be safe here."

  The strong rank smell clung to everything inside including the people. Jalcina covered her mouth in order not to retch. Mekan seemed unmoved.

  Those hidden within looked up at their entrance and a few moved to offer rope chairs to the newcomers. The rope had perhaps once been brown, now it had a patina of green from years so close to the water. Jalcina stood as Mekan sank down with a sigh and let the ropes cradle him.

  A gruff looking woman came over with a bucket. Her hair, like Mekan's, was streaked from the sea. She looked them both over and snapped at Mekan in a language Jalcina did not recognize. He responded in kind and the woman went away.

  "Who was that?"

  "The lady of the house. She'll be back in a few and I'll introduce you." He closed his eyes and ignored her.

  Left to her own, Jalcina moved about the room. It was just tall enough that the overhead beams did not scratch her head, but not much more. Everything seemed as if the sea only begrudgingly allowed it to exist. Stone walls stood close at hand. It was hard to imagine anyone wanting to stay here for any length of time, much less hide here forever.

  "Why are we here?"

  Mekan didn't answer her but several of the others, whom she had all assumed to be men but realized were not, looked at her with suspicion bordering on malice. Going back to him, Jalcina shook his shoulder. He hissed awake.

  "What are we doing here?"

  "Hiding. Here I speak the language. Xernians keep their own secrets and that is good for us."

  His anger brought the colors of the stormy sky to his eyes. Then he shut them again and waved her away as if she were a servant. Jalcina raised her hand to strike him and wavered there, poised before deciding against it.

  He had brought her this far. She would give him enough doubt to determine if he could be trusted. One who trades away lives generally cares for none but their own, her father used to say. Sartol had once been a haven for those who sought freedom from the world beyond the mountains. In her age, she had seen some come and go. Often unwilling to allow themselves to be ruled by any authority beyond their own.

  Mordaen thought little of such men. Jalcina shared his disdain.

  Yet she owed this one her life.

  She sat down on a barrel after attempting to wipe its scummy surface. One must have to chose this life like living in the wastes of the mountain. No one went there without desperation gnawing at their every stride. Closing her eyes, she tried to relax enough to let sleep come. No matter what, sleep was necessary.

  Heaviness touched her limbs before slipping its grip around her. Her last thought before sleep was of the one she left behind. He would die in that prison and she had done nothing to help him. Was she any different than those who would trade away the lives of others for their own?

  Aboard Ship

  The ship rolled beneath her forcing her to think about what it meant to stand. Others walked back and forth as if the very world didn't threaten to pitch her down at any moment. Even gripping the railing did little to keep her from feeling as if she would soon find herself on her back or knees.

  Mekan approached from her left, slow to allow her to see him. Over time, she realized he moved slow for the sake of others, not because he was as slow as some would think. In a fight, he moved at speed putting his opponents on their guard and taking their lives with little hesitation.

  "You will become used to it," he said. His use of the common tongue had become more accented as they stayed in Denden, certain sounds rolling around in his mouth in strange ways. Xernian as a language had its own melody, not bird song, but something elemental as water and snow. Jalcina nodded.

  "How far is it to Cross?"

  Though they used the common tongue name for the Xernian capital, everyone knew where they planned to go. After the conflict in Denden ended in bloodshed, they had no choice but to abandon the port earlier than expected. Mekan's displeasure seemed uncontainable. Jalcina kept her awareness of it to herself. He had his secrets. Just as he told her when they arrived, Xernians keep their own secrets. Whether or not it was good for her they did so remained to be seen.

  The ship's captain bellowed something across the deck in the sailor's pigeon she understood only in snatches. Prepare for something, but what?

  She questioned Mekan with a glance. The man shook his head and walked away leaving her to stand on the deck and try to make sense of how the water could seem so calm and yet the ship move so much. Above the sun offered no solace, but consistent heat. Used to the often chilly summers of her home, the heat oppressed with its presence. After her first day in the strong sun, she chose to wear more clothes as she baked unpleasantly. Browning was not unknown to her, but it had been harder in the high altitudes. Now it seemed she simply turned various shades of red and her skin burned to the touch.

  It made her dizzy, but she refused to allow such a thing to dictate her movements. Another sailor gave her a straw hat with a smile after watching her fan herself through most of one afternoon.

  "Have," she said flipping her long braid of streaked hair around her neck.

  Jalcina admired her for her colors, all browns and bronzes like a carving or a statue.

  The Queen looked much the same.

  Remembering the odd creature of the Queen of the Mad City made Jalcina look around as if the specter of its power would find her even out on open water. How many had seen what she saw and lived to say, she wondered.

  She took the hat with a bow and looped its rope under her chin. The woman smiled approvingly and went back to her business.

  Kindness.

  Broken from the inside out, Jalcina was uncertain of it.

  Retreating to the single space below deck where the small crew congregated, she sought a corner for herself. Few spoke to her much. She didn't understand enough of their tongue and her common was not as good as it once was. Things had gone on without her. Words she recognized didn't mean what she thought.

  Mekan sat on a barrel head with a pipe jutting out one side of his mouth. He watched her come down with a curious expression before going back to whatever it was he and an older man were doing. It might have been a game, but Jalcina had not seen them wager anything on it and that seemed to be a favorite among the Xernians, wagering on things. As if life were not worth living if there wasn't something worthy of winning.

  It amused her.

  The pipe Mekan smoked gave off green smoke like summer leaves and a smell strong enough to override the body odor in the tight confines. A welcome reprieve. Their previous choice of ship had been a merchant vessel, but with them having to leave so quickly, they found themselves aboard this much smaller vessel.

  A young man, teenager perhaps, came up to her and offered a smile before handing her a bowl with what she knew was salted fish stew. Her first night among the water dwellers, they had it for dinner. It seemed like every night since then it was the same thing without variety. Every meal included fish. All of it tasted like small chunks of salt. Yet she ate it grateful for anything at all. Strength was her ally. Therefore, she cultivated it.

  She was most of the way through her bowl when Mekan came and hunkered down beside her.

  "I ask you," he said, his tone quiet as if no one would hear. "Do you remember when I came to you?"

  Jalcina had never seen Mekan before he appeared at her cell door claiming he could save her from death.

  "I only see snatches, I'm sorry."

  His eyes, dark seas overcoming a night horizon, flickered to show his irritation. Jalcina awaited his response.

  "Of course, you do not remember. I was no one to you then. Everyone was."

  As he rubbed the side of his face, she heard the scratching of a coming beard. Could he shave aboard ship without cutting his own throat.

  "Even if you had all your thoughts, you would hardly remember me. I came to you as no one asking for so much. I know that now. Now I have to as
k you for nothing."

  Jalcina tensed.

  "You will aid me," he said. "And then perhaps I will set you free."

  With that ominous declaration, he returned above to the land of sunshine far away from the gloom of the underbelly of the ship. Jalcina did not follow him, though his words clung to her like salt spray. What had he asked for and the woman she had once been denied?

  Alone and friendless, the stranger in the garden said. Rise, not now, but soon. If she was going to come into some great power, she needed to do so before Mekan finished with her, a thought capable of striking fear in her heart. She saw the way his blade split flesh. He could split hers as easily.

  Bringing her hat before her face, she leaned back and tried to rest. Avoiding him seemed the best she could do.

  For now.

  The Lie of Power

  Kendrick knew immediately when the call of intruders came they had to be on their way to dungeon. There was no other reason to come into the palace proper for anything. Or to use the tunnel they sought to the lower level. He blessed his foresight at returning to the old traps when he realized he would have to keep them both alive longer than he anticipated.

  Nalcet remained silent to him. No matter how often he solicited his father's advice, nothing came through. He might have been talking to the wind or the walls. Yet without guidance, he dared not move forward.

  Now it appeared he had missed his chance.

  The guard captain straightened as Kendrick came down the hallway and stood face to face with him.

  "You've swept the entire grounds."

  "Yes. Nothing. The impostor is gone."

  "Only the impostor?" Kendrick hid his surprise but only barely.

  "Yes. The murderer still awaits judgment in his cell."

  "Good."

  With that in mind, Kendrick took his leave. Anger seethed inside him that he had missed his chance. If only he knew sooner what to do, except he could blame no one for his failure. Withdrawing once again to his rooms, he shut the door behind him and let his face drop. His eyes sunk back in their sockets and his jaw disengaged till he drooled. He could not survive much longer this way.

  Within earshot, Versa slept. She recovered well from her stint as a statue, though he still wondered at how Jalcina, all untrained, managed something so complicated with little more than a flick of her wrist. From what he saw, she hadn't even concentrated on Versa to turn her to stone, just called down the blizzard and it seemed to be a side effect. Too much power for someone unknown.

  His eyes strayed to the hiding place where the souls rested. Even sealed, they emanated power worthy of lust. Nalcet wanted them. Kendrick desired to taste, yet didn't dare. Unstopping the bottle risked them escaping and even if he could sip, it would perhaps be too much for him to control.

  He shook his head against the risk and stepped up to the beaten metal mirror.

  His face looked unhealthy, but he knew that. He expected it. None of Nalcet's sons had been gone from the well for so long. None of them dared like Kendrick did. Or perhaps like Kendrick's mother did. It had been her willingness to bring him this far that resulted in his ascension to the highest seat in the land. Now she wanted her pound of flesh.

  Even with repeated questions, he had never been able to determine why his mother hated the Immortal Queen so much. Only she felt the woman deserved to lose everything she had in every way possible. Kendrick, suckled from childhood on the stories of how great Nalcet would be once he was free of his prison, did not hesitate to agree. Once the master mage was free, they would all benefit.

  First the Empire had to fall and with it the reign of the Black King and the Immortal Queen. Their souls offered the strength Nalcet needed to escape completely from his bonds. He would return a hero, and his mother would be elevated to Queen.

  Versa shoved her way to the front and he closed his eyes against his own looks.

  "I cannot take her with me," he said as if saying those words would keep him from wanting to. If he took her to Nalcet, the city would reject her, powerless as she was and all her prowess as a fighter would do nothing but heap shame on her head.

  She stirred close enough he scented her in the air and it woke the predator in him. The reins on his self-control frayed in his grip. It would do her little harm, but it offered him a dangerous bargain.

  He tapped the edge of the mirror again, blowing the words of the spell against the surface. It heated up under his touch and for a glimpse he saw the inner hall, so much bright whiteness with torches of glitter fire at intervals. Yet what he truly sought was absent, the presence of his father. The master mage was gone, just as he had been in the last few days of repeated attempts to contact.

  Frustration stopped his throat as he bit back the urge to throw his hand against the mirror. Heated as it was, he would lose skin, but it might even be worth it for the relief of destruction. He sought to do something impossible and the one who sent him couldn't be bothered to even give him some guidance.

  He released the attempt with another slow breath, gathering back what vestiges of energy he could gather. All of it was precious so far from the well. Anything he expended now he couldn't be certain of getting back. Not without taking it from someone else and risking their life, of course. The choice was there.

  Feed or wither to dust.

  Such a choice.

  The murderer remained.

  Warden refused to help him when there was a chance he could be released on Kendrick's behalf. Now, he remained behind, abandoned by those who might have been his compatriots. Retiring to a nearby chair, Kendrick considered if this conferred him an advantage.

  Warden did not fear the Daughters of Curcula who sought his head. Not now. However, unless Kendrick missed his thought, the man did fear death. Even those who killed as a profession often feared the Devourer. After a few moments, he shook his head. He needed something reliable to get the man moving in the direction he wanted, bringing back the seal and now that errant girl.

  With her came thoughts of the heavy snow she summoned out of nowhere. An impossibility in this climate, yet she had done it and he felt little pull against himself. She drew the strength directly from within, not from without. She needed no well.

  Kendrick forced his mind back to the task at hand. Warden. He needed a plan for the assassin. Dwelling on magic he did not understand would only waste time.

  Warden's death would be a public spectacle, unlike the trial for Jalcina. He needed the people to see someone being punished for the death of their dear Immortal and he could offer him up on a platter. If he orchestrated it with Red Falcon, perhaps she could see to it that the Daughters were there to interfere and allow the man to escape.

  Such a plan had a dangerous flaw: Warden's will. If the Daughters interfered and he escaped, he would disappear into the wastes at the edge of the map never to be seen again. Kendrick had to turn him first, but how?

  Coercion.

  Against someone so stubborn, he couldn't hope to take over their personality without consequences. He would lose what made him useful. Bribing might work except Warden valued his survival over all gold. His choice to abandon his room at the Den of Flowers in order to escape death said as much. The man endured much to keep his head. An admirable trait, but one that made him hard to control.

  Versa came out of his bedroom wearing a clingy shift and rubbing her eyes. In moments like these, he could forget she was one of the paramount warriors in the city and see her as a woman he cared for. Right on the heels of that thought came the understanding he would eventually have to kill her. She would die in his arms, cursing his name, for his father's sake. He had to come to grips with that.

  With a breath, he hid the worst of the damage, looking tired and haggard as a man of government often looked but not near death as he had a moment before. She pressed a kiss to his hairline.

  "They came for her and managed to escape a way I was not anticipating."

  The knowledge of the interior works of the castle m
eant someone inside gave them the information, someone privy enough to know the secrets all but a few were not given. He should have gotten rid of everyone when he had the chance.

  "How does that affect us?" she asked dragging another chair close. Every line in her body spoke of life and strength. The snarling urge to sup curled around his chest with the anticipation of a high cat sniffing prey.

  "It doesn't." Kendrick moved away, his legs carrying him across the small room as he considered their options. "It does not affect you at all. It does however change my plans."

  He didn't have to see her face to know how the anger moved across her brow and lit up her eyes, but he told her the truth. Nothing that happened now affected her. Her place was secured. His as well, so long as he kept others from finding out how deeply mired in treason he was. Exposed, they would both be killed.

  "And what are you going to do?"

  "I have not decided yet. Her companion remains below. I do not think they will return for him. However, I may be able to turn him to my advantage."

  He listened to Versa breathe, a loud sound in the space, as she sought to keep a rein on her temper. Of course, he knew everything she sacrificed. Every time she stuck her neck out to protect him and his schemes. Even her willingness to betray and kill the woman who raised her. All of it played into the feelings she had, feelings she kept under wraps.

  Would she be the one who betrayed him?

  Should he expect any less?

  His body ached to consume as he turned to face her. Her hair fell across one shoulder and accentuated the line of her neck as she kept her eyes hooded.

  "I do not mean to say you have no stake." She couldn't betray him. It would cost her too much. Against his better judgment, he stroked her hair and luxuriated in the perfume of her presence. "Only that now, there is nothing you can do."

  "You say that too often."

  "Only because it's true."

  "Or so you believe," she said pushing his offering of solace away. "You tell me what you want me to hear, not the truth." When she stood up and squared against him, he wondered for just a moment if she had a weapon. If she did, it would be a hard fight in this close a quarter to keep her from killing him. Funny how he had gone from her betraying him in the future to possibly murdering him in the present in just a few moments.