Marah used more sorcery, and invisible hands grabbed Breonna by the throat and dragged her across the stone floor. Other spells held down her thanes. As Marah dominated the room, she listened to dozens of voices coach her about what to do next. She waited for a ghost to warn her of danger. Someone would threaten to attack her blind sides. Marah kept waiting for something bad to happen, but no one posed any danger.
Marah told Breonna, “I can kill you all by myself.”
Breonna clawed at her throat. “I’m sorry.”
One voice whispered, Kill her, and be done with it.
Not yet, another voice said. She still controls the shipments and supplies. She still has thanes in Galkir.
“I’m tired,” Marah told Breonna and the dead. “How will this end?”
Ghosts answered, and Marah lost herself in the voices of the teeming dead:
One of you has to die, one voice said. Another said, Make an alliance with the Sea Kings, and you don’t need her anymore. Still another, a thane from a rival clan, told Marah, Take her children hostage.
Breonna coughed. “You don’t sound… like a child.”
A ghost laughed. We are older than her.
Marah didn’t know what to say, so she watched Breonna struggle instead. A village of voices was whispering and shouting at her. The idea that she should talk like a child was strange. She didn’t know what children sounded like.
“I surrender.” Breonna gasped. “You can have them all.”
Marah released her spell. Breonna rolled over on her back, coughing. The rest of the room began to recover. Thanes stood and shook away the aftereffects of the runes. They leaned against the walls and brushed dust from their hair. Marah used another set of runes to place Breonna’s chair back on its platform.
Have Tyrus help her to her chair.
Marah said, “Tyrus, help her to her chair.”
Breonna collected herself while Marah waited. After she adjusted her clothes and rubbed her throat and caught her breath, she looked at Marah with concern.
Breonna asked, “What else do you want?”
A ghost whispered, She has two more sons…
“Your sons,” Marah said. “All three of them, surrendered to me as hostages.”
The request seemed to startle Tyrus and enrage Breonna. She said nothing, but tension filled the room. Tyrus stepped closer to Marah, and she sensed Olroth on her other flank. No one drew steel, but Marah wondered if they would have to fight again. She didn’t understand why. She had won.
Marah whispered to the dead, What is she doing?
She’s deciding if she would rather die or be humiliated.
Another voice said, Offer her something in return—the villa, a title. Make it an exchange.
“You may keep your clans,” Marah said. “When I can trust you, I’ll release your sons.”
A tense moment passed as all the warriors in the room waited for someone to talk first. Breonna glared at Marah hard, which was confusing. She feared they would fight again. The voices told her she must wait for Breonna to talk first, and she did.
Breonna said, “Very well.”
Brugo said, “Mother?”
“Shut your mouth,” Breonna said. “You had your chance.”
Breonna ordered her sons to surrender. Marah led the group back to King’s Rest. She kept her hold on sorcery as she went. Some of the dead cackled at the way she had humiliated Breonna’s clans while other dead voices—men who had been loyal to Breonna their whole lives—shouted vile insults instead. Most of the dead told her to kill the children of Kordel and to negotiate with the Islanders for supplies afterward. Marah wasn’t sure which to listen to, but she didn’t like the idea of killing an entire clan.
Many times, after the ghosts said nasty things to her, she wanted to use runes to send them all away, but she was afraid of being blind around so many strangers. Fear followed her through the city. The story spread as they walked. People gawked at Breonna’s sons being taken prisoner. People asked if Breonna was dead, and Marah lacked the strength to comfort the living.
IV
Tyrus resisted the urge to pick up Marah. He usually carried her, but she was making a statement by leading the prisoners through the city. The slow pace grated on his nerves though as she picked her way across the cobblestones with her spear and her short legs. Tyrus scanned the crowds for danger and fought the urge to scoop her up and hurry to King’s Rest. Olroth also twitched at any movement in the crowds.
They were exposed on the streets, and half the people they passed owed some debt to Breonna and her sons. Tyrus wanted to take his sword in hand but worried that would provoke the crowd.
When they made it to the courtyard, the rest of Olroth’s men greeted them. Most of the women and children were marked too, so Tyrus saw a mob of friendly faces who looked more confused than bitter.
Marah raised her arms to him, and he picked her up.
She said, “I’m tired. The city is too big.”
“We need to talk.”
“I’m tired of talking.”
Tyrus carried her into King’s Rest and headed for her private quarters. As they went, he asked for a midday meal and water to be brought to her. He settled her on her large feather bed and helped her remove her cloak and boots.
Tyrus said, “You are provoking a very dangerous woman. She’s going to want revenge for this. You should kill her and be done with it.”
“Tell Lahar and Olroth to fortify King’s Rest.”
“They’ve been working on that since we came here.”
“We need more barrels of water. And grain.”
“What have you seen?” Tyrus became more concerned. “Are the clans marching on us already?”
“Not today, but they will.”
Tyrus balled his fists in frustration. “What are you doing?”
“She will bring the Norsil to us.” Marah’s voice lowered, and she seemed to be speaking to someone else. “She thinks she will conquer King’s Rest, but she is helping us build the Ghost Clan. They’ll come for her and stay with me. We just need more time to grow.”
“Child—”
“I am not a child.” Marah glared, giving him pause. “We need an army.”
“Let me kill her. We can unite the clans later.”
“Her thanes would scatter. A new warlord is uniting the other clans in the West, and they want to kill all of us. They say Nisroch isn’t really dead and we need to be punished for betraying everyone. They are going to march against Ironwall and Shinar.”
Marah unloaded on him, and she sounded distraught. She looked like a child complaining about a game, but she spoke of warlords and clans and invasion. The things she said filled him with horrible visions of the months to come.
The elves and the Gadarans weren’t the real threat. An army of Norsil was going to invade the East. Tyrus thought back on the battles in the highlands. More than half of the Norsil had refused to join Breonna’s clans. If they all united under a new warlord, they would be a fearsome army.
Marah looked at him. “We need Breonna’s men.”
She spoke with conviction, and Tyrus knew she believed what she said, but he was struggling to accept her words. She spoke of things happening on the other side of the world. The wastelands were on the far side of Ironwall.
“How do you know about the warlord?”
“Breonna’s thanes, the dead ones. They told me.”
Tyrus went to a dish of water on a table and made an attempt to clean the filth from his hands and face. He needed a bath. He focused on the bowl of water because he couldn’t look at Marah without betraying his anger. She was keeping more secrets from him. He had spent his time worrying about shipments of food and Breonna’s clans while Marah knew about a new warlord and armies in the West rising against them. She was carrying an impossible burden and didn’t seem to trust him to help.
&nbs
p; She crawled into the bed, closed her eyes, and appeared to nap. She looked like a child again. He hoped she was keeping secrets because she didn’t know any better.
Tyrus shook his hands dry. The water in the bowl had turned a dark pink, and he made a note to take it away when he left.
As he thought on what she had said and how they had humiliated Breonna, he wanted to abandon Shinar. Maybe the elves and rangers were right. Maybe he should pick her up and carry her to Paltiel, where she could find sanctuary in the Forbidden City. He dismissed the idea. For that to work, he would have to make a long journey with a sorceress that could not be controlled.
He sensed defeat coming for them. Army after army would sap their strength until they were bled to death.
Despite what Marah believed, they would never unite all of the clans. Breonna’s closest kin would seek revenge until they were all killed, and Tyrus knew the only way the Ghost Clan would prevail was to put the other clans in the ground.
The next day, families began arriving at King’s Rest. Breonna had released them from the various villas where she had kept them hostage. Tyrus found the five wives he had inherited when he killed Wuldor, and it surprised him how much he had missed them. They herded a brood of children, dozens of them, varying in ages from toddlers to teenagers. They were led by his eldest wife, Aydler, whose graying hair and wide shoulders made her appear more like the grandmother of the group than one of the mothers.
They entered the courtyard of King’s Rest with hundreds of women and children. Tyrus hurried to them and found Beide and Brynn safe. No one embraced him. The children were confused and the wives distant.
Tyrus asked, “Are you well?”
Aydler said, “They say a little demon girl is taking over the clans. And you all painted your faces to join her.”
“She’s not a demon.”
“Are the stories true?” Aydler held a hand to her hip. “This high and able to kill famous thanes? She killed Barros?”
“I killed Barros. Come, let’s get you inside and find you a place.” Tyrus didn’t know the names of all the children, but he recognized their faces. Satisfied that they were all present, he asked Aydler, “Is Olroth’s family safe?”
“Breonna wasn’t foolish enough to harm any of the hostages.”
“Good.”
Tyrus cast about for Olroth, but the courtyard was a confusing jumble of celebrating families and people shouting to one another. Tyrus led them through the crowd to get to King’s Rest. The thanes, who had been painted and grim for weeks, smiled and laughed again. The good mood was infectious. They hadn’t celebrated anything since the feast when Breonna arrived.
“This is our home?” Aydler asked. “We sleep in a stone box? What kind of life is this?”
“We need the fortress to survive what’s coming.”
“How do you hunt?”
“We bring food to the city from the Islanders.”
“Breonna’s boats.” Aydler harrumphed. “So we can’t hunt, and we have all these mouths to feed. She means to starve us.”
“Not without starving her sons.”
Tyrus had been planning to bribe the Islanders away from Breonna. It became a task on a long list of things to attend to. Marah shared bad news in the West. Dwarves brought bad news from the Underworld. The nations of the surface all conspired against them, too. They had won a half dozen enemies when they claimed the city.
Since the hostages were released, Tyrus could spend more time worrying about alliances with the Islanders, but he knew worse things loomed. While they were bogged down in all the politics of Shinar, Azmon was plotting his return. He knew the bone lords would invade again. Shinar stood between them and the White Gate.
Aydler asked, “What is wrong?”
“We’re surrounded by enemies. Many different armies want to take Shinar.”
Aydler shrugged. “So we leave Shinar.”
“They’ll follow Marah wherever she goes.”
“So leave her,” Aydler said. “That’s the real problem. You won’t leave her.”
“I can’t. I promised her mother I’d protect her.”
“She’s going to be the death of you.”
“I know,” Tyrus said. “I pledged my life to her family a long time ago.”
“What about my family? Will Marah mark them like she did the others?”
“I can’t see why not.”
“We’ve heard stories. She doesn’t accept everyone.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Are we cast out if we do not paint ourselves?”
Tyrus assured her they would not be cast out. He hoped he was right. The Ghost Clan confused him, especially after Breonna’s son was marked.
On the second floor, he claimed a room large enough for his family. The place seemed to have been an office for a noble—Shinari or bone lord, he couldn’t say. A desk could be burned for heat, and they needed blankets if they were to sleep on the floor. Tyrus reminded himself to scavenge the city for cloth.
His wives debated whether a girl could be the Ghost Warrior. They spoke quickly, and his Jakan wasn’t good enough to catch it all. Aydler busied herself inspecting the room and the narrow window while the younger wives talked of numbers of thanes sworn to Marah versus those still serving Breonna.
They asked him many questions. He tried to explain that Marah’s powers were worth a thousand swords. She had succeeded where armies had failed. She drove off the bone lords and their beasts. But his family had not seen the battles, and they did not understand the sorcery.
Tyrus said, “I’ll take you to her. You can meet her for yourself.”
Beide asked, “Must we take the mark?”
“No one is being marked by force.”
Tyrus winced a little as he said it, knowing it was no longer true. He answered more questions but noticed Aydler watching him with contempt.
Aydler asked, “You are still married to Breonna?”
“I don’t believe so.”
Tyrus wondered how a Norsil marriage ended. They were at each other’s throats, and the marriage was politics. The union had failed.
Aydler said, “You humiliated her. Stole her children. Killing her would be a mercy.”
“Marah doesn’t want that.”
“Breonna will send knives in the dark. Watch your back, you big fool.”
Tyrus took them to Marah’s chambers. Four thanes stood guard in the hall, and Marah greeted them by opening the door before they knocked. All his wives introduced themselves and the handful of children under their care. Marah nodded at all the names of the children, and with each wife, she named their parents and former clans if they had one.
Marah created an awkward tension that Tyrus struggled to deflate. The children didn’t notice. They surrounded Marah, asking about her robes and her eyes. They touched her hair.
After she made a point of ignoring their attention, Beide shooed them away. “Leave the… Ghost Warrior alone. Let’s see who can race to the end of the hall the fastest.”
The kids set off running.
Marah turned to Tyrus, “Are we done?”
“Do you not want to… play with the kids?”
“Why? They don’t know anything.”
“I thought you might want friends your own age.”
“I want Dura.” Marah walked past him and his wives. “Only Dura can help me.”
The thanes followed her from the hallway, and Tyrus wasn’t sure if he should follow Marah or stay with his adopted family.
Aydler asked, “What is that thing?”
“That’s Marah of Narbor.”
“That’s not a child.”
“Underneath all the strangeness, she’s still a little girl.”
“I’ve raised dozens of girls. Not one acted like that.”
Tyrus watched Marah leave. Her feet didn’t make a sound on the
marble, and with her long white robes, she seemed to drift across the hallway like a ship on still waters. Marah was a child—lonely, mourning, and carrying secrets no child should bear. He wanted Marah to get the help she needed, and if that meant trying to contact a dead sorceress, then so be it.
Tyrus left his family to find quiet in the streets of Shinar. The keep was an insufferable labyrinth of noise, with the families finding their places. They sounded like hundreds of geese trumpeting around a lake. Tyrus felt more at home in his armor, patrolling the streets, than watching women care for children.
A thane came running with a message from Elmar, and Tyrus headed back to the fortress. He found the Roshan locked in a series of apartments down a long hallway. Olroth had posted two guards at each door. After a few minutes of checking each room, Tyrus found Elmar. His old clerk looked worse than Tyrus remembered. Dark circles pulled at his eyes, and his skin was so dry it looked like scales.
Tyrus asked, “Are they feeding you?”
“The food is the best we’ve had in a long time.”
“I got your message. What do you need?”
“Is it possible to get us out of here?”
“You want me to break you out?”
“Passage to Sornum… or exile. Just get me and my men outside the city gates, and we’ll walk to a port town ourselves.”
Tyrus spoke truth to his old friend, but it made him sad. “I don’t think I can arrange that.”
“But they call you Warlord and Dark Walker.”
“My titles don’t mean anything. Marah is their leader now.”
“A storm is coming, milord, and we will be the first to die.”
“Marah does not want to kill you. I will do what I can to keep you safe, but everyone else wants to hang all of the Roshan.”
“If you could get us supplies, I would rather take my chances on the plains to Galkir.”
“I’ll see, but Azmon wanted her head. Few are going to forgive that.”
“But he didn’t.” Elmar looked confused. “Not until they fought on the wall. All those years, he wanted his daughter back. He never wanted to kill her.”
Dance of Battle: A Dark Fantasy (Shedim Rebellion Book 4) Page 20
