Cedric nodded, his mind turning. “Approximately how many are we speaking of?”
“Easily a thousand, Your Grace,” Lanier answered. “They will not send their full forces as they are fighting a naval battle on their own eastern shores, but they are willing to give a thousand men to Sebastian in order to sustain his good will. It seems they fear him. Here,” he pointed, “are where Iolar leads the remainder of our troops from West Ashwynd. According to their Dryad messages, they have reached the Sand Flats from the Northern Sea and are marching along the border of Ongalia to join us. But they will be days yet, providing they can continue to move uninhibited. With Sebastian's armies on the move from the west, they may run into each other.”
Cedric asked, “Can we report Sebastian's movements to them?”
“The Dryads are working on that, Your Grace,” Lanier said, “but it is not an unlimited resource. It can work for or against us—the Dryads are split in their loyalty to the Andrachen twins and to Sebastian. We've found an effective route from here to Ongalia, but it has proved tricky to send word west. If our messages got to the wrong Dryad—”
“Sebastian would know every one of our secrets,” Cedric nodded. “Indeed. Perhaps we can send runners, then, east to Iolar, to report to him, but also to keep abreast of what's happening with Sebastian's armies. There would be less exchange of information, which always runs risks. Have there been more desertions in Sebastian's ranks?”
Tristan nodded as he stepped back from the map. “Some, Your Grace. After your arrest and transportation to ClarenVale, I sent men to hit the payroll trains in unrelenting succession. Already, thousands and thousands of sceptermarks are in our hands. Only three pay-cycles have passed since we began our agenda, but to a soldier with a starving family, that is six weeks of no food. We've discovered the lists for six of Sebastian's army divisions on the last payroll wagon we stopped. At least half the men were missing, having deserted from those lists. If the same is true throughout his armies, then it can be hoped that Sebastian's force will be roughly half of what we were expecting.”
“But that still far outnumbers us,” Cedric murmured, his mind darkening as he paced. “I wish Lord Fellowes would come.”
“He will not fail us,” Kinna said.
Cedric rubbed the back of his neck. “You place so much faith in our Ongalian allies,” he said. “I admit, I don't trust him like you seem to.”
Kinna shrugged, her flame red hair glistening brightly in the filtered light through the shelter. “He loved our mother, Cedric. I expect nothing less.”
Cedric surveyed the two men who served him faithfully. “Do you both feel the same?”
Lanier nodded. “I cannot speak from the same standpoint as Kinna as I have not met the man, but I have Her Grace's word that he is trustworthy, as well as Ayden's, who I find can read character quite well. I have no complaints.”
“And you, Tristan? Do you say the same?” Cedric asked.
“Aye, Your Grace.”
“Then Lanier, allow me to show you my ideas, and you tell me if we can make this happen.”
The glimmer of a smile lit Lanier's face. “Aye, Your Grace.”
Cedric knelt by the map, moving twigs and pebbles around the rough Lismarian shape. “Sebastian moves west with far greater numbers than we have. Iolar leads the remainder of our rebel forces from the Sand Flats into the forests that blanket the northern portion of Lismaria here. We don't have enough to spread ourselves thin, so we have set our stronghold on the Midland Ridges just west of the Marshlands of Cayne. Sebastian will have much difficulty crossing the Ridges with his large numbers, and we will be set in and ready for them when they arrive. The Marshlands to our back will keep the Sanlians from creeping in behind us; they will need to go around by the southern route to reach us, and by that time, we will hopefully have help from our Ongalian allies and the Great Dragons to meet them in battle.”
“So much is good, Cedric,” Kinna said, “but we will still stand little chance if we do not immediately make it our mission to destroy the Amulet.”
“Aye,” Cedric nodded. “Ayden said that Sebastian will have it on him—Kayeck has sworn it—and I consider this an advantage, because if we do manage to destroy it, we might succeed in also ridding Lismaria of Sebastian as well in one fell blow. It concerns me, though, that we do not yet have the knife in our possession that Helga assured us is necessary for the ritual.”
Kinna nodded. It worried her, too. Besides being guarded by taibe, Seer Fey had watched over the blade since it had been placed in their chambers, and Man nor Seer Fey could touch it. She could send other creatures, but there was still the problem of getting past the powerful Ancients to take the knife.
“Linc!” Cedric called.
Lincoln, who had been crossing the clearing on his way to the other side, stopped, his eyebrows rising. He walked over. “How can I serve you, m'lord?” he asked, bowing deeply, a grin covering his face. Cedric was used to his teasing ways, but he was too impatient with his question to acknowledge it.
“Can you give us, in detail, the instructions to destroy the Amulet? Do you know?”
“I know parts, Your Grace, but only my mother, Helga could have told you in detail. Or perhaps Kayeck might know?”
“She won't be with us for a few days, Ayden said,” Kinna murmured absently.
“I see,” Lincoln said. “Then it is, as follows, Your Grace:
Three it takes to do it in,
Or is it four—you just can't win.
Blood of Dragon, Man, and Fey,
Magic from the Bond will lay
A force upon the Amulet,
So thick that blood and trial beget
A freedom from the ancient past.
Hearts made new! Gone at last!
But Man, I'm sad to say must do
A double count, you see, bleed two!
One must bleed for life and health,
The other dies in ash and stealth.
The knife—take heed—the knife must do
The cutting, else this all falls through.
The Amulet will then be naught,
Freedom's here that's so long sought.”
Lincoln bowed again, and added. “That is, if we can retrieve the ancient knife from the Seer Fey Council, and if we can make it through a Mammoth-load of Sebastian's men to Sebastian himself and get the Amulet from him. The first looks like it will only be possible after battle commences. The Seer Fey will join Sebastian in the fight, and to increase their power, they won't leave even one behind. Perhaps we can have some creature ready to go retrieve it once battle commences? Oh, and it has to be two Men who control all four Touches in the ritual, so this looks like it all comes down to your boy, Ayden,” Lincoln said, glancing at Kinna.
Kinna flushed. “He's aware,” she said. “What did you mean, though, Linc, about one dying?”
“Just what I said,” Lincoln answered. “One of those who offers his blood must offer all of his blood. The Amulet will not be destroyed otherwise.”
Kinna's face whitened beneath this revelation. Concern rose in Cedric; she looked like an apparition. “Kinna?” he asked.
She ignored him. “How do I know which it will be? What if it's Ayden and not Sebastian? How can I find out?”
Lincoln shook his head. “There is no way to tell, Kinna. The Amulet exists as a sort of infinite symbol in the midst of two continuums—life and death. Ayden and Sebastian each stand for one, but there is no way to know who, or how the Amulet apportioned its gifts so that when the gifts are then turned back on the Amulet, how it will affect them. All we know is that one of them will die.”
“Linc,” Kinna sounded strangled. “I can't let that happen.”
“You can, Kinna.” Cedric's voice astonished even him; he hadn't intended to speak. The words that welled up in him now surprised him, because he had fought so long against them. But they could not be stopped, and as they spilled out of his mouth, a heady sense of freedom broke the dark chains of
bondage he'd felt since he'd first found out who he was—an Andrachen. Ayden had accepted his responsibility in this war, even dying for what was right. He, Cedric, could do the same.
He shook his head in amazement, his gaze meeting Kinna's stricken one. “You know—as an Andrachen, as the royal daughter of the King and Queen of a nation—that your duty does not necessarily lie where your heart leads you. Often, you are asked—required—to put aside your heart to make room for what you know is best for your country, your nation—your people.” He turned his gaze to Ashleen, speaking more to her now than to his sister. A small smile tilted the corners of Ashleen's mouth, and her eyes were suspiciously moist. “Sometimes, you leave your heart behind you, put your crown on, and face your people with the confidence that they need to see. Because you are a symbol, Kinna. That's what you decided when you began to organize an uprising against Sebastian, and you became a symbol for the revolt. Now we're both symbols, and whatever our hearts, whatever our desires—they take second place to the responsibility that lies before us.”
Ashleen stepped toward him, her hand slowly reaching up, cupping his cheek. “Cedric Andrachen,” she murmured, her voice husky against her own feelings, “I am proud of you.”
Dead silence fell around them as Cedric gazed deeply into Ashleen's eyes. “You made me see it, Ashleen. You, alone.” He brushed his lips lightly over hers, closing his eyes and gathering the weight of the responsibility—the responsibility he now accepted—around him like a cloak. He turned to Kinna with a lopsided smile. “So, Kinna,” he stretched out his hand, taking hers, “sister mine, will you be the Queen at my side? Shall we rule Lismaria and West Ashwynd with justice, fairness, confidence, and understanding? Shall we go forward and take back what rightfully belongs to us, restoring the people and the creatures of this land to the equality that should have been theirs all along?”
Behind Kinna, a grin spread over Lincoln's face. Light seemed to fill Lanier's and Tristan's expressions. Kinna did not smile, but she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, the straight line of her mouth firm and unyielding. Purpose shaded her eyes a deeper green. It was Ashleen's expression, though, that surged Cedric's blood through his veins. In her black eyes, shimmering with a sheen of moisture, love shone with the brilliance of diamonds.
Chapter Sixteen
Sebastian
Sebastian's horse flinched whenever the King's hands brushed his velvet hide. Sebastian's sessions with Kayeck had at last released the manipulation of the Touches he had been seeking for months, and with it, the heady power that exuded, sometimes physically, from his fingertips. He'd loved the feeling of control—playing with it beneath his skin as he'd allowed the Ash-Touch to approach his stallion's hide, yanking it back at the last moment before his mount melted into a pile of ash. Such power gave him euphoric glee.
The Amulet, where it hung around Sebastian's neck, grew weightier every time the Touches rippled across his skin, but he took keen pleasure from having it there; he could feel the power emanating from it almost like a tangible pulse.
Sebastian glanced over at Kayeck, who rode a mule ten spans to his right, her hooded profile indiscernible under her mantle.
“Jerrus,” Sebastian murmured.
“Your Grace?” The Commander moved his horse closer to Sebastian's.
“Has Kayeck spoken at all since my last session with her before we left ClarenVale?”
“I have not been in her company at all times, Your Grace, but I haven't heard her make comment on anything in all the time she's ridden near us.”
“I see.” Sebastian eyed the Fey again. Something about her disturbed him, and he wasn't sure what it was—a needle that poked at his sense of heady strength as he and his armies marched out to meet Kinna and Cedric and their paltry band of rebels. “When we make camp for the night, bring her to my tent. I need to speak with her.”
“It shall be done, Your Grace.”
Sebastian nodded, and, despite his better judgment, spurred his horse to catch up to Brughale, who rode just before him, accompanied by the defective Nine-Tail. He cursed himself for his lack of self-control where the Siren was concerned. It's only attraction, he'd told himself multiple times, easily pushed aside. But the trouble was, Brughale herself wasn't so easily pushed aside. Something about her crept beneath the rock-hard facade that he'd maintained for years and pulled at his vulnerable interior he'd managed to shelter since the days when Liam would gleefully torture him.
More than Selena, more than Lianna, more than any woman he had ever known... even more than Olivia, who had first stolen his heart, Brughale pierced his soul, and he found himself unable to resist her allure.
“We are near the Midland Ridges, Your Grace,” Brughale murmured as he came abreast with her. Her gaze strayed to the gray mountains that rose before the company. “I have not seen these since I was a very young girl.”
“And how many years ago was that?” Sebastian asked.
“I've lost count,” she said softly, sadly.
Sebastian frowned. Her immortality bothered him, perhaps because it was a defect, and he hated defective creatures. Even so, he couldn't smash what he felt for her, nor his wish to psuche with the Dragon at her side. Fire rippled across his skin. He needed control; he needed it like air to breathe. Brughale's gaze was drawn toward the flames.
“What are you thinking of, Your Grace?”
The word weighed heavy on Sebastian's tongue. He wasn't going to release it, but then, he did anyway. “You.”
“Me?” Brughale's eyebrows raised. “Favorable thoughts?”
Sebastian glanced at her; her lips turned upward at the corners in a secret smile.
“Are you using your Siren-speak on me?” he demanded. He could normally tell if a Siren spoke her native tongue, but perhaps she had hidden it, and that was why he could not root her from his thoughts.
She broke into a throaty laugh. “Nay, Your Grace. Any favorable thoughts you are having about me are the fault only of your draw to me, not compulsed by any words I might speak to you.”
Sebastian frowned. “I do not wish to find you attractive.”
“And why not, Your Grace?” she asked, her voice low and playful.
“By the Stars, will you stop?” he snapped. “Because—because I don't wish to attach myself to a creature, because I wish to focus my attention on more important things, because you are defective, and I—I am...” He trailed off.
“You are a Dragondimn king who has none of the usual proclivities of those who populate the Clan?” Brughale asked quietly.
Sebastian felt her unspoken addition to the sentence. Because your brother gained the Dragon gifts while you did not?
“Your Grace,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to where her fingers wove through the horse's mane, “imperfect creature though I am, I am not without the ability to—love. I have watched your family through many generations, even back to the Bond of Blood and Fire, to your ancestor, Aarkan.”
Sebastian's eyes widened. He'd never considered the fact that she would have been alive during that time. “Did you know him?”
Brughale fingers relentlessly threaded through the horse's mane. Sebastian's jaw tightened during the long silence, shooting pain into his head. Finally, she spoke. “I did. I was—his mistress.”
Sebastian's eyes burned as her words seared into his mind. He was in love with his ancestor's mistress.
In love?
No, he would not admit it.
Brughale went on. “Aarkan's wife... went to the Seer Fey, to the Ancients. Gaining the sympathy of one of the most powerful ones, Wendren, who had pulled the Amulet from the fire, she convinced her to cast a taibe spell on me—where I would never die a natural death, thus cursing me to watch my lover die, and any lovers I took ever after.”
Brughale turned abruptly to Sebastian, one hand reaching for his, her fingers sliding through his heated ones. Her wide-eyed gaze fixed on his face. “I am a coward, Sebastian. Many times, I have considered a
n—an unnatural death. Suicide. But I am afraid—of what comes next, of the black void that yawns on the other side of life. It terrifies me. And so, I live on, with no end in sight.”
Sebastian stared at her, his hand squeezing hers tightly as he tried to rein in his emotions. His ancestor's mistress! And yet, he could not retract what he felt. He could not show her what was in his heart; it would destroy him. He would lose his control, making him a lost man. She would hold his draw to her over him like a Dragondimn's mace, crushing him with it when he was most vulnerable.
He strained against his troublesome desires, fed by something more powerful than lust. Almost of its own volition, his hand raised hers to his lips. He pressed his burning mouth against the soft back of it, closing his eyes to shut out the sight of her.
And then, with a low growl, he spurred his horse, riding out ahead of his armies, lengthening the distance between them. Behind him, he could hear Jerrus's mount thudding as they both entered the foothills of the gray mountains at a full gallop.
Sebastian's anger and frustration cooled quickly as his horse was forced to slow, picking its way along rocky and sometimes steep terrain. A glance behind him showed his army splitting into sections as a large portion followed the trail he took into the mountains, but several platoons broke off and entered the ranges behind other hillocks and trails.
“We are not all taking the same path?” he asked Jerrus.
“Nay, Your Grace. I thought it best to cover a wider area. It will give us breadth to overcome when we reach your niece and nephew, and use our greater numbers more effectively.”
Sebastian nodded as he pulled his horse to a stop and allowed Jerrus to take the lead. Behind him, a long line of other horses struggled down a steep incline. A drop in the terrain showed him another section of his armies had made it to the next range, and was climbing.
Jerrus shook his head as Sebastian fell in behind him. “These animals are ill-suited for this terrain, Your Grace. It would have been better to take to the air.”
Unleash the Inferno (Heart of a Dragon Book 3) Page 28
