Celewyn nodded. “Why?” he asked.
Lord Grey’s voice clearly conveyed the shrug he could not perform. “I have no idea, Celewyn,” he replied hotly. “But it will be for nothing good, I assure you! Just because she’s slipped Jisa’s control doesn’t mean there’s an iota of kindness or light in her soul.”
The Avani gave a mournful half-smile. “I know what a wraith is, necromancer,” he said, then added, “Where is the jade frog?”
“Why does that matter now?” Lord Grey asked, perplexed at the sudden non-sequitur.
“Because it will tell us if Lian lives,” the elf replied. “The magic bound into him will escape upon his demise.”
Lord Grey immediately told Celewyn how to find the frog. “I did not realize this,” the skull admitted. “This changes things immensely; we must take after the prince at once.”
“We must make haste after them,” Celewyn agreed, “but I didn’t bring soldiers with me; the crewmen are just that, sailors.”
The necromancer replied harshly, “You will have soldiers when I’m done, Avani. And before you argue, we don’t have a choice but to do it this way—however deadly you are with those blades, the troll and Radiel are more than a match for the two of us. Her other servitors are less of a concern, but they’ll slow you down, and she saw some of my best wardings, so she may take my lead and ward her stronghold, wherever it is.”
Celewyn nodded somberly. “You may be right, but we have time. Your magic must wait for nightfall, does it not?” he asked rhetorically. Making Undead that could withstand Rula’s golden rays was possible; raising the dead while He graced the sky was not. That part of necromancy could only be performed at night except under very special celestial circumstances like some of the eclipses that happened as the moons cycled through their endless dance.
“Nightfall is not needed, Celewyn,” Lord Grey said grimly. “I will have to make fewer Undead than I planned, but quality is more important than number in this case.”
His blood chilled. “You can create Undead in daylight?” the elf asked. He knew the complex dance of the moons by heart, and he wasn’t aware of a conjunction or eclipse on this day that would aid in raising the dead.
“Have your sailors drag the werewolves and the burned goblin dead next to Snog,” Lord Grey replied by way of answer. “Then, you should send Wavecrest away, I should think.”
Rather than discuss it further or argue, Celewyn issued the necessary orders, gathering the charred corpse of one of the goblins, some burned fragments of the victims of the lightning ward, the three Truesilver-slain werewolves, and Snog together next to the rock Lian had used for a lookout. I don’t know what he’s planning, the elf thought, but what choice do I have?
Once the bodies were arranged to Lord Grey’s satisfaction, with the blackened skull resting atop Snog’s still chest, Celewyn ordered the ship to depart, to head west and look for Indigo Runner in the cove, to see if it was possible to repair her or simply tow her. He got no argument from Bevra, who saw even more wealth headed his way if he could manage to salvage the damaged merchantman.
The boatmen also carried instructions to Wavecrest’s captain to return to this spot and stay at anchor for a full tenday, moving off if a storm came up, but anchoring again as soon as possible afterward. He knew that Bevra would be tempted to take the banker’s disk—and Indigo Runner—and make a run for it, but he’d been careful to make sure the caravel’s owners knew who he was and that they’d conveyed this to the huge man.
Sure, the assassin was beached out here in the wilderness, but he thought it likely his reputation would hold the ship, unless some of Radiel’s monstrous allies showed up. If the wraith herself came back for some reason, well, the ship would quickly be full of the dead. With Celewyn and the skull on shore, the sailors and officers would have no chance.
While the boat rowed out to the caravel, he dragged the stone containing the Truesilver sword near to the bodies. Celewyn bent his magic to the task of freeing Gem’s blade from the stone imprisonment. He hadn’t known her, but through Elowyn he knew what she had been and what a horrendous loss her destruction was. To honor her sacrifice in defense of Lian—Celewyn knew she’d died doing so—the Avani felt he couldn’t just leave the pieces here to be buried by the sea.
Plus, as a more practical matter, her Truesilver-alloy steel and the gemstones that were part of her construction were far too valuable to lose. Further, even broken, Gem might still be of use, in finding someone loyal to Evan and Adrienne who might aid him in Lian’s name. Gem could be the proof that he represented the true rulers of Dunshor, even if Lian himself wasn’t there. He sang the spellsong to melt the stone away from the blade, and then carefully wrapped the blade and hilt into a tightly-bound oilcloth bundle.
“She deserved better,” Lord Grey said sadly. “And I don’t know how Lian will bear the loss, if he lives.”
Celewyn made a noncommittal movement. “What about the Key of Firavon?” he asked.
“As for the Key, which we referred to as the marble,” Lord Grey answered, “it’s woven into a leather pouch he wears around his neck and underneath his armor; they’ll pretty much have to completely strip him to find it. Radiel can track him despite the marble, so she might not even recognize its significance…if we’re lucky.” Being Undead, Radiel would not be able to command the Key of Firavon, even if she somehow realized what it was, but the sphere of protection it granted could be removed simply by throwing it away. If that happened, the Usurpers’ diviners would be suddenly able to find Lian. Neither the assassin nor the necromancer doubted they were still trying.
The Avani nodded, then at Lord Grey’s direction gathered up Snog’s dagger, Lian’s shortsword, and both crossbows, for the necromancer had seen where each of those items had fallen, or could sense the bladed weapons’ enchantments.
As he went through Lian’s pack, Celewyn also found a tremendous collection of rare herbs, minerals, and unguents, and knew that some of them were deadly poisons but others were of use in necromancy. Clearly Lian had recognized that he might have to call on the skull’s darker powers at some point; there was no other reason to carry some of the items. “Will you need any of these for your spell?” he asked Lord Grey.
“That remains to be seen,” he answered cryptically.
Celewyn also found Lian’s stash of Truesilver ingots, far more wealth than he’d given to the captain. He was pleased to see that nothing in the pack identified Lian, a sign of his brother’s teaching. He transferred the more valuable contents to his own pack and then bound Snog’s smaller one to the bottom of his own.
I have failed you, brother, Celewyn thought as he waited with Lord Grey for Wavecrest to sail out of sight. Lian is probably doomed come nightfall, whatever the creature’s plans are. But the king and queen will pay for their crimes, Elowyn, so at least you will have vengeance.
But before I visit the king and queen, Princess, he thought, his clear blue eyes gazing southward toward the marsh where her force had gone, we have business to attend, you and I.
Epilogue
The weight of the crown is far beyond its measure.
-- proverb common to most of the races of Dunshor
“She has Lian,” the queen said quietly to the man standing on the lowest stair of her sanctum. Her shoulders were square, but he knew her well, and he could see the tension in her frame.
Rishak strode over to her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. Yes, as hard as iron, he thought, then said as gently as he could, “Why do you make that sound like it’s a bad thing? He’s dead now, surely?”
Jisa’s muscles moved under her husband’s hands and fingers, almost writhing under his touch. She was unnerved, more than when the first three wraiths had been destroyed. “I-I don’t believe she’s killed him yet,” she replied, hesitating slightly at first, then winced as his grip tightened—only for a heartbeat, for he quickly loosened it, soothing the flesh under his fingers in silent apology. “I don’t have an
y clear impressions, just a vague feeling, as you know, but I sensed her triumph.”
We erred in taking this path, Rishak thought, not for the first time. He had given her permission to do this unholy thing, and he didn’t blame her for it; neither of them had seen an alternative if they wanted Lian dead and their claim on the throne secured. It had only been six months since the coup, and the kingdom and its neighbors seethed with potential and actual strife and turmoil. Many nobles would back a rightful heir over the Usurpers (he had no illusions about what he was or what he’d done, despite the impression he gave his subjects in regard to that title), even though Rishak had solid control over the military.
Solid control for now, he added to himself. And “many nobles” may turn to “most,” depending on the winds.
“She’s full of vengeance-minded thoughts, is she not?” the king asked his queen.
She blinked at the apparent nonsequitur, then answered, “Yes, as much drive for vengeance as I could instill. Why do you ask?”
He came around in front of her and slipped his arms around the small of her back to pull her lithe and shapely body to him, smiling down at her. “Because it may simply be that death is too quick for her brother, given that he destroyed the others,” he offered.
She hadn’t thought of that, and if she’d been thinking more clearly—she hadn’t been sleeping well, a consequence of trying to stay connected on some level with Radiel’s wraith—she might have realized it. “Death’s too good for him,” she murmured, turning that thought around in her mind. It rang true on the deep level of consciousness the queen had managed to touch within Radiel. With a sigh, she smiled weakly at her husband. “Perhaps you’re right, Rish,” she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. Usually, when he held her close like this, she’d be interested in far more than a kiss, but she was out of sorts.
She hoped Rishak’s explanation was correct, that the wraith wanted Lian to suffer first. It was not the optimal answer to the problem; prisoners were known to escape, after all. But it would do if she killed him soon.
As the king enfolded her into his arms, he stared at the wall behind her. I hope that’s the case, he thought grimly as he held her and felt some—not all, by a long shot, but some—of the tension fall away from her muscles as he gently stroked her back. He tried to think of one good reason not to worry about Jisa’s revelation, and try as he might, he couldn’t. Radiel’s independence was a danger to their hold on the throne, and in many ways, more of one than Lian was, if she were to return and announce to the kingdom who she was and who had created her. That would be “all of the nobles” against us, maybe even Mourning, if that happens, he thought sarcastically.
At the time they’d dispatched the Undead horrors to hunt and slay their brother, the king and queen had both been confident of Jisa’s hold on them. Now? Only the gods knew what the surviving wraith would do after she turned back northward. And the gods, he thought bleakly, hadn’t exactly been quick to divulge their knowledge about anything related to Lian.
The magical ward-traps the queen had built about the castle were very likely to succeed, the former duke reminded himself; if Radiel did return to declare herself to the world, she would quickly meet her doom. If she killed Lian, eliminating his threat to the throne…it suddenly dawned on him that in that case, the wraith wasn’t impossible to find. Whatever had shielded Lian probably would not extend to Radiel, so once Jisa informed him that the prince was dead, he knew several wizards who’d gladly take the job to eliminate the wraith, and who could be trusted to remain silent about who the wraith happened to look like or what she might have said before being destroyed.
And then, their hold on the throne of Dunshor would be unbreakable.
By Blood Hunted: Kingsblood Chronicles Part Two (The Kingsblood Chronicles Book 2) Page 50
