by Anne Bishop
Even as he turned, expecting to be too late to save the Healer, he heard Jillian shout, "Down, Nurian!"
Hearing Jillian changed Nurian from helpless woman to apprentice warrior. She kicked viciously at the Warlord's groin at the same time she threw herself backward. The kick didn't land solidly, but it was enough to startle the man into letting go of her, and the unexpected move threw him off-balance. As he tried to right himself, an arrow whizzed through the air and buried itself in his chest.
Jillian was already nocking another arrow and taking aim while Nurian scrambled to her feet and ran, hunched over to stay out of the line of fire.
He threw a Sapphire shield in front of Jillian just in time to stop the arrows that would have gone right through her. "Retreat!" he shouted, ready to foam at the mouth when Jillian calmly sent another arrow flying. "Damn you, warrior, retreat!"
That startled her, but it was Nurian's shout that made her run.
Ready to cover their retreat, Falonar glanced back—and swore every vicious curse he knew. Nurian was now standing braced to fight with nothing but an Eyrien stick. Not even a bladed stick. What in the name of Hell did the woman think she could do with that? Did she think a warrior was going to come at her barehanded? Fool. Idiot.
He backed toward her, always watching for the next attack. "Retreat," he snarled at her—and then noticed that Jillian, instead of running all the way to the communal eyrie, had stopped halfway there to take up a rearguard position. "Disobey me again and I'll personally whip the skin off your backs. Both of you. Now retreat!"
They responded the same way any Eyrien warrior would have—they ignored the threat and held their positions. So he retreated, forcing them back with him. That they were willing to do. Lucivar must have been out of his mind to think a woman would obey a sensible order. Which made Falonar extremely grateful that Surreal wasn't there. The Darkness only knew how he could have held her back in this fight.
When they got close enough to the communal eyrie, Hallevar grabbed Jillian and Kohlvar practically threw Nurian threw the doorway. Falonar was the last one in. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he filled the doorway with a Sapphire shield so that they would be protected but still have a good view. Some of the men had taken up positions at the shielded downstairs' windows. Others had gone to the upper rooms. The women and children were all huddled in the main community room.
Hallevar joined him at the door. "You think they're regrouping?"
"I don't know."
Behind them, he heard Tamnar say a bit resentfully, "Well, little warrior, looks like you made your first kill."
He and Hallevar both turned and blasted the same message at Tamnar. *SHUT UP!*
The boy flinched, looked shocked at the harsh reprimand, then slunk over to the window Kohlvar guarded.
Jillian stared at them, her normally brown skin an unhealthy gray. "I killed him?"
Before Falonar could phrase a cautious reply, Hallevar snorted. "You just scratched him enough to let Nurian get away."
Some of the tension drained out of the girl. "Oh. That's... Oh."
"You take a backup position over there," Hallevar said, pointing to a far corner of the room.
"Okay," Jillian said, sounding a little dazed.
Falonar turned back to look out the doorway. "She put that arrow right through the bastard's heart," he said, keeping his voice quiet.
"No reason for her to know that right now," Hallevar replied just as quietly. "Let her believe she just nicked him. We can't afford to have her freeze up if it comes down to that."
"If it comes down to that," Falonar said softly as he settled in to wait.
13 / Kaeleer
Saetan prowled the corridors of the Keep, too restless to stay in one place, too edgy to tolerate being around anyone.
Lucivar should have been back hours ago. He knew Lucivar had slipped out of the Keep late that morning to find out what was delaying Marian's and Daemonar's arrival, but the afternoon was waning, and there was no sign of any of them.
He doubted anyone else had noticed. The coven and the boyos were gathered in one of the large sitting rooms, just as they had gathered every day since Jaenelle had ordered them to remain at the Keep. So they wouldn't realize Lucivar was gone. And Jaenelle and Daemon... Well, they weren't likely to have noticed either.
Surreal had noticed Lucivar's absence, but she'd shrugged it off, saying he was probably with Prothvar and Mephis. Which made him realize that he hadn't seen either of them lately.
Somehow he had to find a way to make Jaenelle listen to him, had to find out why she was keeping such a stranglehold on all of them. Whether they acknowledged it or not, they were at war. The Queens and males in the First Circle weren't going to tolerate staying there indefinitely while their people were fighting. Something had to change. Someone had to act.
14 / Kaeleer
Falonar accepted the mug of ale Kohlvar handed to him.
"Makes no sense," Kohlvar said, shaking his head. "No direct attacks anymore, no efforts at a siege, just a few arrows now and then to make sure we know they're still out there."
"They've got us pinned down," Falonar replied. "We're outnumbered, and they know it."
"But what's the sense of pinning us down?"
We can't go anywhere, Falonar thought. We can't report anything.
"What's the sense?" Kohlvar repeated.
"I don't know. But I expect we'll find out sooner or later."
The answer came at twilight. One Warlord openly approached the communal eyrie, his hands held away from his sides, away from his weapons.
"I have a message," he shouted, holding up a white envelope.
"Put it on the ground," Falonar shouted back.
The Warlord shrugged, set the envelope on the ground, then placed a small rock over it to keep it from blowing away. He walked back the way he had come.
A few minutes later, Falonar watched the Eyrien company take flight.
He waited another hour before he used Craft to bring the envelope to the doorway. Still standing on the other side of the Sapphire shield, he created a ball of witchlight to illuminate the writing, the name of the recipient.
Dread shivered through him. It was the same handwriting as the note that had been left for Lucivar. But this one was addressed to the High Lord.
He called Kohlvar, Rothvar, Zaranar, and Hallevar over. "I'm going to take that to the Keep and give my report."
"Could be a trap," Hallevar said. "They could be waiting for you to make a move."
Yes, he was sure it was a trap—but not for him.
"I don't think they're going to bother us anymore, but maintain a watch. Stay sharp. Don't let anyone in, no matter who they are. I'll stay at the Keep until morning. If I come back before that ... do your best to kill me."
They understood him. If he came back before that, they should assume he was being controlled and respond accordingly.
"May the Darkness protect you," Hallevar said.
Falonar passed through the Sapphire shield. Taking the envelope, he launched himself skyward and headed for the Keep.
15 / Kaeleer
Saetan stared at the sheet of paper. Too many feelings crowded him, so he pushed them all aside.
I have your son.
Hekatah
Which also meant she had Marian and Daemonar, since that was the only bait she could have used to provoke Lucivar into going to Hayll.
Now Lucivar was being used as the bait for him.
He understood the game. Hekatah and Dorothea would be willing to trade: him for Lucivar, Marian, and Daemonar.
Of course, they wouldn't let Lucivar go, couldn't let him go. As soon as he got Marian and Daemonar safely out of reach, he'd turn on Hekatah and Dorothea with all the destructive power that was in him.
So this was a false bargain right from the beginning.
He could go to Hayll and destroy Dorothea and Hekatah. Two Red-Jeweled Priestesses were no match for a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince.
He could go there, throw a Black shield around Lucivar, Marian, and Daemonar to keep them safe, then unleash his strength—and kill every living thing for miles around him.
But it wouldn't stop the war. Not now. Maybe it never would have. And it was the war that had to be stopped, not just the two witches who had started it.
So he would play their game... because it would finally give him the weapon he needed.
Everything has a price.
He removed the Black-Jeweled pendant and set it on the desk. He removed the Steward's ring from his left hand— the ring that contained the same Ebony shield Jaenelle had put into the Rings of Honor.
Even if Daemon was influencing Jaenelle, even if he was the reason she was resisting a formal declaration of war, even he couldn't stop her reacting. Not to this.
Don't think. Be an instrument.
By walking into the trap Dorothea and Hekatah had set for him, he was going to unleash the one thing he knew would bring out the explosive, savage side of Jaenelle—his own pain.
Of course, he would never be the same after those two bitches were done with him. He would never...
He opened the desk drawer, caressed the lavender-scented envelope. "Sometimes duty walks a road where the heart can't follow. I'm sorry, Sylvia. It would have been an honor to be your husband. I'm sorry."
He closed the drawer, picked up his cape, and quietly left the Keep.
16 / Kaeleer
Daemon glided through the Keep's corridors. He'd spent the past several hours making three months' worth of tonics for Karla, according to the instructions Jaenelle had given him. When he'd questioned her, reminding her that healing tonics that had blood in them would lose their potency over that amount of time, she had told him she had calculated that so the potency would taper off the way it needed to. And when he'd ask why...
Well, it was to be expected that she would be drained by unleashing the amount of power needed to stop Dorothea and Hekatah completely. The fact that it would take her three months to recover worried him. And now that she was so close to finishing... whatever it was ... he was also worried that the boyos might finally slip the leash and throw themselves into battle.
They were feeling too hostile toward him just then to listen to anything he might say, but he hoped Saetan would still be reasonable. He was fairly sure he could say enough for the High Lord to understand that Jaenelle's evasion had a purpose, that all they needed was a few more days. A few more days and the threat to Kaeleer would end, the threat Dorothea and Hekatah had always been to the Blood would end.
He knocked on Saetan's door, then went in cautiously when it was Surreal who said, "Come in."
She was standing behind the small desk. Falonar stood beside her, looking tired and angry. Surreal didn't look tired, and she was a long way past angry. "Look at this," she said.
Even from where he stood, he could see the pendant and the Steward's ring. Slipping his hands into his trouser pockets, he walked around the desk, silently acknowledging the emotional cut when she deliberately moved away from him. He read the message and felt a claw-sharp chill rip down his back.
"Now are you finally going to do something?" Surreal asked, slamming her hands on the desk. "They're not killing strangers anymore. You can't keep your distance anymore. Those bitches have your father and brother."
It cost him dearly, but he managed to get that bored tone in his voice. "Lucivar and Saetan chose to take the risk when they disobeyed orders. It doesn't change anything." Couldn't change anything. Not if Jaenelle was going to save Kaeleer.
"They've also got Marian and Daemonar."
Of course they did. He felt concerned about Marian, but not really worried. If Marian were raped or harmed in any way, not even a Ring of Obedience would stop Lucivar from starting a full-scale slaughter. So he wasn't really worried about Marian, but just the thought of Daemonar in those bitches' hands for even an hour... "There's bound to be some kind of ransom demand," he said dismissively. "We'll see what we can accommodate."
"Accommodate?" Surreal said. "Accommodate? Don't you know what Dorothea and Hekatah will do to them?"
Of course he knew, far better than she did.
Surreal's voice filled with venom. "Are you at least going to tell Jaenelle?"
"Yes, I suppose the Lady will have to be told about this inconvenience." He walked out of the room while Surreal was still sputtering curses.
He wished she had cried. He wished she had shouted, screamed, raged, swore, wept bitterly. He didn't know what to do with this still woman he had cradled on his lap for the past hour.
He had told her as gently as he could. She had said nothing. Just put her head on his shoulder and turned inward, going down so deep into the abyss he couldn't even feel her.
So he held her. Sometimes his hands stroked, caressed— not to arouse her but to relax her. He could have drawn her back with sex, but it would have violated the trust she had in him, and that he wouldn't do. When his hand had rested on her chest, it was to reassure himself that her heart was still beating. Each warm breath against his throat was an unspoken promise that she would return to him.
Finally, after almost two hours had passed, she stirred. "What do you think will happen now?" she asked as if there had been no time at all between the question and his news.
"Even riding the Black Winds, it would have taken Saetan a couple of hours or more to get to Hayll. We don't know when he left—"
"But he would have gotten there by now."
"Yes." He paused, thought it through again. "Lucivar and Saetan aren't the prize. They're the bait. And bait becomes less valuable if it's damaged. So I think they're safe enough for the moment."
"Dorothea and Hekatah expect me to surrender Kaeleer in order to get Lucivar and Papa back, don't they?" When he didn't answer, Jaenelle raised her head and studied him. "No. That would never do, would it? In order to hold on to Kaeteer, they have to be able to control me, use my strength to rule."
"Yes. Lucivar and Saetan are the bait. You're the prize." Daemon brushed her hair away from her face. "How close are you to finishing your... spell?" He knew it was far more than that, but it was as good a word as any.
"A few more hours." She stirred a little more. "I should get back to it."
His hold on her tightened. "Not yet. Sit with me a little while longer. Please."
She relaxed against him. "We'll get them back, Daemon."
Father. Brother. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against her head, needing the warmth and contact. "Yes," he murmured, "we'll get them back."
17 / Kaeleer
Ladvarian studied the chamber that would be Witch's home for a while. An old carpet that he had brought from the Hall covered the stone floor. He had also taken a couple of lamps that used candle-lights and lots of scented candles. The narrow bed Tersa had given him was in the center of the chamber. The trunk was beside it and held a few changes of clothes, a couple of the books Jaenelle liked to read when she needed to snuggle up and rest for a day, her favorite music crystals, and some grooming things.
He had brought no pictures because three walls and the ceiling of the chamber were covered with layers of healing webs. The back of the chamber was filled with the tangled web of dreams and visions that had shaped the living myth, dreams made flesh, Witch.
*Is it ready?* he respectfully asked the large golden spider who was the Weaver of Dreams.
*Web is ready,* the Arachnian Queen replied, delicately brushing a leg against one of the drops of blood sealed in shielded water bubbles. *I add memories now. But... Need human memories.*
Ladvarian bristled. *She was our dream more than theirs.*
*But theirs, too. Need kindred and human memories for this Witch.*
Ladvarian's heart sank. It had been easy with the kindred. He had told them what was required and that it was for the Lady. That's all the kindred had needed to know. But humans would want to know why, why, why. They would take time to persuade—and time was something he didn'
t have.
*The Strange One will help you,* the spider said.
*But the Lady knows packs of humans, whole herds of humans. How—*
*The First Circle have strong memories. They will be enough. Ask the Gray Black Widow. For a human, she is a good weaver.*
She meant Karla. Yes. If he could persuade Karla...
*Wait for the right time to ask. After Witch has gone to her own web. The humans will listen better then.*
*I'll go to the Keep now and wait.* Ladvarian looked around one more time. There was nothing left to do. The chamber was ready. The tangled web was ready. The kindred who belonged to the Lady's court were gathered on the Arachnians' island to give their strength to the Weaver's web when the time came.
*One more thing,* the spider said. *Gray dog. You know this dog?*
An image appeared in Ladvarian's mind. *That's Graysfang. He's a wolf.*
*Send him to me. There is something he must learn.*
18 / Terreille
It was a war camp, not the sort of place he would have looked for Hekatah or Dorothea. Around the wide perimeter, metal stakes had been driven into the ground every few yards. Embedded in the stakes were two crystals, one on each side, spelled so that anything going between them would break their contact with the crystal in the next stake and would alert the guards. The camp itself had clusters of tents for the guards, a few small wooden cabins built close together near the camp's center, and two wooden huts that had heavily barred windows and layers of guard spells around them. In front of the cabins were six thick wooden stakes that had heavy chains attached to them. For prisoners. For bait.
As soon as he walked past the perimeter stakes, they knew he was coming. On the journey there, he had thought again about what he was going to do. He could kill Hekatah and Dorothea. He could unleash the strength of his Black Jewels, destroy everyone in the camp, and take Lucivar, Marian, and Daemonar home. But it wouldn't stop the war. Terreille needed to be confronted with a power that would terrify the people sufficiently that they wouldn't dare fight against it. So it always came back to provoking Jaenelle enough for her to unleash her Ebony power and give the Terreilleans a reason to stay in their own Realm.
