A King's Caution (The Eternal War Book 2)

by Brennan C. Adams

  Grunting from the impact, Kylorian scrambled for his sword’s hilt, but Raimie callously knocked his hands away from their goal. He methodically stretched them above the man’s head, pinning them in place with a spare throwing knife.

  “This won’t kill me, you know,” Kylorian coughed, melancholy and torment mixing into a tone Raimie found oddly alluring coming from whom it did.

  He wondered what Kylorian saw when their eyes met one final time. Did he see the vast swathes of mercy’s fields his betrayal had razed and salted barren? Could he understand the hollowness inside, waiting to be filled by whatever happened to come next? He definitely felt the cold in Raimie’s glare because, despite being pinned like a butterfly, he violently shivered.

  “I know how Kiraak die,” Raimie said. “I know a sword through the gut will only cause you pain, but the fire next door might finish the job for me. I don’t plan to stick around and find out.”

  Ignoring the weeping left in his wake, Raimie stalked to Uncle Emri and cut him free of his gag and bonds.

  “Your Majesty,” Emri growled as he rubbed his wrists.

  Raimie helped him to his feet. “Are you ready to depart for the palace?” he asked. “I assume we’ll find any surviving allies there.”

  “Raimie, now is the perfect time to ask-” Nylion started before Emri broke in.

  “Give me a moment,” the older man said.

  He stomped up the house’s stair, and the muffled noises of a search thudded through the room’s rafters. When Uncle Emri descended, he was armed once more.

  “Do you mean to leave him like this, Your Majesty?” he asked, pointing at Kylorian.

  “Do you have a problem with that?” Raimie snarled.

  Emri stared at the blue eyes which blankly gazed from a ruined face. “No,” he admitted before sighing with exasperation, “but Eledis will kill me if he ever learns I left his brother’s doppelganger like this.”

  In a flash, his foot stomped into flesh once, twice, three times. Emri removed it from a cave where a face had been.

  Gritting his teeth, Raimie averted his eyes from the mess of blood and viscera, breathing through his mouth to control his stomach. Still, he caught a whiff of blood’s metallic tang, and the smell made him gag. Years lived in a palace, far from conflict, had made him soft and weak.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Your Majesty.”

  Raimie distractedly nodded. Did he confront Emri about the barefaced display of disobedience? He’d never ordered Emri to abandon Kylorian as he was, but his intentions should have been abundantly clear.

  “Not worth it, Raimie. Ask the other question,” Nylion said.

  Must we?

  “If we ever want peace.”

  Raimie faced the man he called Uncle. “A question before we leave, Emri.” The Eselan flinched at the mention of his old name. “Were you party to it? To stealing Nylion from me, I mean.”

  Emri paled, but he resolutely met his monarch’s accusation. “I knew their plan,” he said. “I disapproved, thought Nylion was good for you, but I didn't protest when your father took you to Allanovian.”

  Raimie cocked his head, considering. Strangely, the confession left him… satisfied. Learning not everyone from his childhood had disapproved of half of him was a relief. A deeply ingrained kernel of unease and hate loosened, and he extended a hand, an offer of safe passage from the home but also of reconciliation.

  “Let’s go, Uncle.”

  Emri accepted, and Raimie dove them into shadows’ embrace.

  * * *

  “It’s too quiet,” Emri whispered as they raced down the corridor.

  They’d emerged in Raimie’s study, the one place he’d known the Kiraak wouldn’t bother to loot. Maybe the Enforcers or Doldimar would find his stacks of proclamations, proposals, and missives interesting, but he hadn’t expected them to have yet sated their curiosity, so soon after a feast of carnage and death.

  At his king’s request, Emri had summoned fire from the city below to destroy those stacks. Raimie took a sick pleasure in depriving the enemy of something as small as this.

  Once they were certain no one could stop their act of sabotage, Raimie had wrapped himself and Emri in a bubble of invisibility. Stretching his source around them both had been difficult, but he’d managed it after a few tries. They’d wandered the empty palace for what seemed hours, although the time was more likely a fraction of that, and with every abandoned room they searched, a panicked scream of desperation he’d buried while standing outside Uduli clawed its way free.

  “Hush, Uncle. We’re invisible, not undetectable,” Raimie reprimanded, a bit more harshly than he’d intended.

  The bite in his words had the intended effect. Emri’s teeth clicked together, but he made no further sounds. Their destination, at the moment, was Raimie’s bedroom. If Ren remained in the palace-please no-she’d hide there.

  Unfortunately, distractions peppered their route. The staffs’ quarters, Eledis’ rooms, Oswin’s office, all had been empty. Raimie stubbornly considered the vacancy a good sign, refusing to heed the voice which tickled the back of his mind with worry. While they searched, Emri had informed him of Eledis’ hastily cobbled together plan, and Raimie chose to believe the lack of palace residents, living or dead, meant they’d evacuated with the city’s inhabitants.

  They were one floor down and several turns from their goal when noises reached them. Following floor after floor of absolute silence, the clash of metal against metal irresistibly drew the two. Despite his need to find Ren, Raimie nodded agreement at Emri’s questioning glance. If someone was in the midst of a deadly fight, they would rush to that person’s aid.

  The noise powerfully burst against Raimie’s eardrums by the time they reached the throne room. Inside, Eledis fought Doldimar, and the battle was breathtaking. Their skill and expertise, Raimie had no hope of matching it. His self-assurance on the isle embarrassed him now that he saw Doldimar in his element.

  Eledis was clearly outmatched. Doldimar met him blow for blow, never touching his primeancy. He blocked and riposted with the most minimal of motions while wielding Lighteater with his good hand, the blackened and marred one loosely dangling by his side.

  Meanwhile, sweat sheened Eledis’ skin, and his chest heaved. His every move was calculated to give him the smallest break from the fight’s exertion.

  Beside him, Emri’s muscles bunched as if to leap forward, and Raimie snatched his Uncle’s arm, spinning him to slam against the wall. He fixed the man in place with a single, shadow-covered hand on his breastbone.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Raimie hissed. “You go in there, and you’ll get yourself killed!”

  “I have to help!” Emri whispered as he struggled to break free.

  “You’re an Eselan, yes? Then, help Eledis from here. Cast an illusion of darkness around Doldimar, summon fire on him, I don’t care. But you do not go in that room. If we manage to survive the day, I’ll need you.”

  Only when Emri slumped did Raimie release the pressure, but when he crept toward the throne room door, the Eselan’s head jerked up.

  “Where are you going?” he hissed.

  “To help.”

  Nyl, unless you’ve something beneficial to add, I need you to stay silent during this exchange.

  “I am sorry, have I been bothering you?” Nylion asked, falsely affronted.

  Nyl, please.

  Raimie slipped around the doorframe before his courage could desert him. What was he thinking?! He’d no idea if he could help much less how. If his experience on the isle was any indication, using Ele to sleep or immobilize Doldimar would have little effect, and he doubted his dark energy could harm the Champion of Daevetch. If Shadowsteal had been in his possession, maybe he could use the imparted time slow to manage a shift in the battle’s flow, but Eledis currently used the weapon to desperately avoid a skewering.

  Stupid. He should never have given the blade away. His blade. So godsdamned stupid. If he surv
ived today, Shadowsteal would never leave his side.

  He’d better decipher a way to assist soon because, despite Emri’s valiant attempts to help, Eledis seemed on his last leg. Doldimar flinched and lurched from the flashes floating around his head, a distraction which should have given his opponent a break, but the Dark Lord never failed to viciously and haphazardly swing Lighteater in Eledis’ direction, forcing the old man into a series of defensive blocks.

  In his indecision, Raimie intensely missed Kheled, not only because his friend was the only person capable of matching Doldimar but because the Eselan had always helped him compose solutions to his problems. Without his friend, without Khel, he wasn’t sure what to do. Only one option emerged which might aid Eledis, and without another idea, he recklessly plunged into its progression. Skirting the battle until he faced Doldimar’s back, he advanced.

  He’d reached the halfway point when the fight shifted. Irritably shouting, Doldimar flung a Daevetch wave at the throne room doors, collapsing the wall in which they’d hung. The floor rumbled from so much resin coated obsidian’s weight, and the cloud of sparks vanished from around Doldimar’s head. Raimie bit his lip to keep from shouting for Emri as the battle resumed once more.

  When Doldimar met Eledis this time, it was with a ferocity previously unseen, a fierceness which haunted Raimie with memories of a hurricane and a pebble. His leg throbbed in response, used and abused as it had been in the last few days.

  Eledis barely matched the rain of Doldimar’s blows. He refused to retreat beneath the onslaught, almost as if he could see Raimie and knew what his descendant intended.

  Hold on, old man. I’m almost there.

  Silently, Raimie slipped a knife free. He snuck forward, intending to drive the tip between his enemy’s shoulder blades, when Doldimar snarled. Daevetch suffused Raimie’s immediate vicinity, and a powerful blow knocked Shadowsteal from Eledis’ hand. His head soon sailed in the opposite direction.

  “Nooo!” Emri howled from the rubble, and Raimie silently joined him.

  He and Eledis had never been fond of one another, but the old man had been family. As Raimie watched blood tinge Eledis’ billowy mass of white hair, his insides twisted into knots, and the little boy who’d once loved his gruff grandfather screamed denial in response.

  He didn’t have long to indulge grief. Before the head’s roll slowed, Doldimar whirled on him, eyes centered on Raimie despite his invisibility. A hand shot out, and before he could process what had happened, his back and head crashed into tile, Doldimar’s other hand crushing his neck. He lashed out, fists falling against cloth-covered leather.

  “Stay still, or I’ll put you in a Vice,” Doldimar growled.

  Raimie froze. Please, please, no. Anything but that loss of control. Not after watching Eledis die. He couldn’t break a Vice with turmoil raging beneath his skin. Loss hollowed him such that his will to fight limped along, only supported by the idea of seeing Ren again.

  “How are you alive?” Doldimar’s shocked voice surfaced him to face reality. “How are you here?”

  Behind Doldimar, hope reared her lovely head. Oswin, bless his friend’s nose for trouble, raised a knife above the Dark Lord’s shoulders. Laughing, Raimie shook his head as violently as he could with his neck pinned.

  “I had some help,” he answered Doldimar, surprised by his voice’s fevered trill.

  He spastically jerked a finger in the direction where Shadowsteal had flown, all while Doldimar speculatively considered him. Oswin slunk from sight.

  “I can see why Teron referred to you as a roach in his reports,” Doldimar muttered.

  “That’s me!” Raimie replied before spitting in his face.

  Doldimar’s body went rigid, squeezing Raimie’s air source closed. While he squirmed and thrashed against the hand which slowly choked him to death, the Dark Lord daintily wiped spit from his face with his free hand.

  “I take that to mean you won’t consider willingly working for me,” Doldimar stated. “No matter. I’ve never required consent, and you’ve proven you can be a valuable tool, Raimie, former King of Auden. I look forward to using you.”

  He grinned, and Raimie began to scream when his chest and chin met tile, painfully clicking his teeth together. Doldimar straddled his hips, shredding the back of his clothes, and lightning paralyzed Raimie’s disoriented struggles.

  The lacerations from the cave. Daevetch had a way into his body. He was to become Doldimar’s puppet.

  In a stroke of genius, the sadistic shit had left Raimie’s arms free. A quiet, detached part of his mind wondered how much Doldimar enjoyed his victims mewling and straining fingernails against the floor before he violated their bodies with Daevetch.

  Steel clattered against tile, and cold metal bumped his bloody fingers. Raimie instinctively grabbed for the object, and the world slowed. For a moment, all he could do was sob into the floor. Too close. That was almost disastrous. He was almost…

  The sobs caught in his throat.

  “Ready to debilitate him?” Bright asked from overhead.

  Raimie nodded, face still hidden. “Will you help me?” he asked, voice muffled.

  “Always, Raimie,” both splinters promised.

  He reached behind him until he touched a solid mass of leather enclosed flesh. Casting for sources, he found them everywhere and in everything, Shadowsteal assisting his search. He collected Ele from Bright, from the body cooling nearby, from himself. Once he’d filled to capacity, Raimie shoved the lot of it through his palm pressed against Doldimar’s chest.

  The weight against his hips gradually lessened, and he scrambled out from under it. He retrieved Eledis’ head from where it had come to rest, returning it to its body. Sitting beside the old man, he watched, chin in hands, as Doldimar flew across the room at a snail’s pace. He kept his mind carefully blank as hours crawled by, content to watch the Dark Lord’s face progressively shift to surprise.

  When his enemy neared the wall, Raimie stood, patiently waiting. Doldimar’s body splayed in gradual increments against obsidian, and a stain winked into existence beside its Eselan. Its head whipped back and forth, taking in the scene.

  “You must be Corruption,” Raimie called.

  As he made his approach across the room, he savored the stain’s cringe and hesitant retreat.

  “You’re the ally,” it whined. “Why do you carry Shadowsteal?”

  Lifting the blade, Raimie coldly inspected it before pulling his lips in a disturbing cross between a grimace and a grin. “Times change.”

  Shuddering, the stain tried to further back away, but a wall blocked it.

  “I don’t know why Khel’s never considered doing this,” Raimie mused, “but I suppose merely eliminating his friend seemed easier in the long run.”

  “What-” the stain started, licking its lips, “what do you plan to do to me?”

  “Why, I thought that was obvious! I’m going to eliminate you,” Raimie answered. “Dim! Don’t let it escape!”

  The stain was joined by its twin, his hand on its shoulder. The stain which wasn’t Raimie’s craned its neck to view the one that was.

  “Chaos?!” it asked, shocked. “Why-?”

  “I’m sorry,” Raimie’s stain murmured. “Everything I do is for the good of the whole, whether it realizes that truth or not. Raimie, please don’t drag this out. Assisting you is painful enough.”

  “As you wish, my friend.”

  Shadowsteal swept through the stain which had been Corruption, in and out like smoke, and as before, it exploded, sending a shiver down the blade and up Raimie’s arm. The leftover stain’s form brutally fluctuated, black spikes stabbing from it at multiple angles, and he drew a shuddering gasp, arms hugging his chest as if to keep himself from flying apart. Shadowsteal twitched toward him, Raimie barely reigning it in, and his stain scuttled to the side.

  With his goal accomplished, Raimie regarded Doldimar. Gods, this need to hurt him! When had the idea of revenge claimed such
a strong hold?

  Maybe it was the days without sleep, the growling mass which was his stomach, but all Raimie wanted was to drive Shadowsteal into and out of Doldimar’s brain before walking away from this mess, never loosening his hold on the blade. He could live in this trance-like dream state for a spell. Take time to recover while the world crawled. He was well aware of what awaited him once he released his hold. A kingdom lost. A return to a life of struggle and strife. The despair he could never win his fight.

  “Raimie, the world needs you,” Bright said.

  “Damn the world! It can burn for all I care!” Raimie snapped.

  “You don’t mean that-”

  “Fine, then!” his stain spat through Bright’s feeble attempts at comfort. “Ren needs you. Enough of a motivator?”

  Raimie glared at the stain. “Yes, thank you.”

  He spun on his heels, stopping beside Eledis’ body. Gulping, Raimie knelt beside it and threaded Shadowsteal’s scabbard from its belt. Once it hung from his own, he took one last look around the slowed room.

  Lighteater’s disappearance was a shame. A sword to kill Daevetch splinters and one for Ele would have made a powerful combination, but the sought-after blade was nowhere in sight, and Doldimar held nothing in his spread fingers. Oh, well.

  Raimie slammed Shadowsteal into its scabbard, and time sped to its average play. Doldimar ‘oophed’ as he finished his flight, stumbling to stay on his feet.

  “Why, you little-”

  The curse died on his lips as he narrowed his eyes. His head whipped side to side in search of an unseen companion.

  “I destroyed it,” Raimie answered the unasked question. “You’re welcome.”

  Wide, gray eyes snapped to him, and a hissing inhale filled the air. “I’m… free?” Doldimar asked. “I’m free!”

  Clapping his hands, he giggled like a child before vanishing. A clatter from behind whipped Raimie around in time to observe Doldimar kicking Lighteater into his waiting hand. Eledis’ body had been shoved to the side. The Dark Lord giggled harder at the look of outrage Raimie’s face broadcasted.