“It's her,” Inagor said positively.
“Soreina won't be concerned with the warriors out there,” Kir said. “It's Inagor she'll be after. And His Majesty.”
Everyone turned their eyes to Lyndal as they processed the thought. He still wore Vann's decoy and he sat quietly in his seat. Without warning, Lyndal rose. The alterlet deactivated, revealing the truth to the entire room.
Lyndal bowed his head reverently. “Highness, forgive my neglect of duty in dropping the decoy. Allow me to guide the kaienze away from here. If she sees me, she will follow. I can get her outside the Barrier.”
“That's a suicidal suggestion,” Lili said. “You can't expect to return from a mission like that.”
“Probably not, but I knew when I took this assignment that the decoy is the most dangerous job here.”
“A decoy? But, His... His Majesty?” the Major asked.
“Is safe,” Kir assured him. “This is Lyndal of Ithinar Steel. He's been playing decoy for the duration of our journey, to draw eyes away from the real Vannisarian. We kept it quiet because the more people who knew, the greater the risk of it falling into the Chaos Bringer's hands. This is classified information, Major. It does not leave this room.”
“You don't need to sacrifice yourself for this,” Inagor said to Lyndal. “Soreina is my bane, and I, hers. She will tempt ruin to capture me back. I will be the one to lure her away.”
Kir was about to protest both of their insanities when a burgundy tint washed over her vision. It was the same Kion call that she had felt in Alokien's presence on the moonless night.
Gevriah gasped. “Highness! Your eyes!”
Kir knew without needing confirmation. Her eyes were glowing with deep red fire. An urgency spiked to the pit of her soul, a fiery anger that ached for release. Since the Kion hadn't come forth, Kir reasoned that she was in the presence of a recent Forbiddens user, but the magic hadn't actively been used in her proximity yet.
Inagor lifted Kir's chin to examine the churning red glow. He was probably remembering the same kind of Kionfire in Vann's eyes from when they had faced Soreina on the airferry the first time. “She's here,” he said gravely.
A lilting voice suddenly called through the Barrier panel. It dripped with succulent enmity. “Oh, Majesty? Hand of the Kion? I know you're in there.” The richness of Soreina's unmistakable voice ran chills down Kir's spine. Inagor's jaw clenched so tightly, Kir worried he would break molars. “I bring a gift. If you want his life intact, you'll open the door and invite me to your tea party. Say something, handsome.”
A stranger's voice, strangled and gurgling, tried to speak. The words were unintelligible.
“Pity, it seems he's lost his tongue. This is Colonel Dewlin. He'd really like to come in and play,” Soreina cooed. There was a commotion that only lasted a moment. “Ooops. My mistake. Now it seems he's lost his head. I suppose I'll have to invite myself in. At least all this officer blood he's spilling will be good for something.”
Time seemed to skid to a halt in Kir's mind. Soreina was about to open the blood seal to their door, and there was nowhere to run. The moment she realized their deception, she would report it to Alokien. They would call off the siege before it had begun. They would set their efforts to seeking Vann out, and they would burn entire towns in the search. The folly of Kir's plan pummeled her like a kick to the gut.
Inagor took a deep defensive stance in front of Kir. Malacar and Ulivall joined him. Kir understood their protective instincts, but she wasn't about to go down without her sword singing. She didn't have as much of a grudge against Soreina as Inagor and Scilio did, but Kir had scuffled with the spidery witch on the airferry, too. She wasn't satisfied with the outcome of that battle.
The seal hissed as the door opened. Soreina lilted inside with a grace that she exuded as naturally as a dancer. Ankle-length silver hair and a wicked smile. Prancing gait and predatory periwinkle eyes. Clawed fingernails dripping thick scarlet.
Soreina of the Web made her grand entrance into the command room. Kir knew the world was about to come crashing down. There was no escape.
-46-
Drinking the Dazzling Wine-bled Flame
in the Delivery of a Kion
My Bardian mask hides well my shame, for I cannot reveal my true face in the responsibility I bore upon that ill-fated airferry. My Guardian brethren must not see the ugliness of my guilt, or the reminders of my disgrace that the naked soul would surely betray.
I followed my lesser brain to calamity, to the casting of a die I did not know myself to be rolling. They do not see behind the mask of the Bardian. I hope they never do.
- Excerpt from the journal of Guardian Toma Scilio
Soreina scanned the command center smoothly, then her eyes narrowed. A raging inferno flashed across her features.
“Deception! Which one is the princeling? Reveal him!” she screeched in a pitch that rattled Kir's eardrums.
Kir blinked dumbly and spun around. The room was filled with Vannisarians. Lyndal and every single Counselor sat around the table staring blankly. They had used their alterlets to become Vann, to buy time. It was about as brilliant as anything Kir had seen.
Inagor took the initiative to explode against Soreina. Launching over the headless body of Colonel Dewlin and the lake of blood around it, Inagor muscled her back into the hallway and slammed her against the stone wall.
Soreina seemed tantalized. She wasn't fazed that Inagor had her pinned. The slender features shifted from rage to something more along the lines of glee and possibility. “That pesky vambrace stole you away, my pet. I wonder if I can wrest you back again. My bonding is more potent than anything the little royal whorelet can offer. Care for a refresher?”
Soreina wrapped her leg around Inagor's suggestively. She leaned forward and pressed against his chest.
Inagor's face contorted in disgust and he instinctively repelled back a step. Clearly jostled, he spat, “I'd rather take a kappa than the likes of you.”
Soreina took advantage of his hesitation. With a lock of wild hair that moved like a living arm, she gripped Inagor's blade and shifted it downward. The kaienze was a thread wielder, able to control her silver hair and manipulate it like an actual living entity. It made for an unpredictable weapon and shield that could take almost any shape or function she willed. Inagor and all three of Vann's Guardians had faced her on the airferry. Even with their combined might, she had still overpowered them.
“Find the Crown Prince!” Soreina commanded. She issued a hand signal and a trail of kaiyo from the hallway filtered into the room before anyone could Barrier the door.
Inagor wrenched his Guardian sword free of the restraining tendrils. He launched again. While he fought Soreina down the hall, the command center erupted. Kir worked her way between Ulivall and Gevriah to engage a six-legged nakrihm in the doorway. She could see Soreina and Inagor trading viscous blows.
This battle was different than the airferry. There was a connection linking Inagor to Soreina in a deep kind of bonding. Kir could not even guess at the darkness they had shared in that wicked lair. Theirs was a death match of eternal hate. By the specific moves in Inagor's offense, Kir could tell he knew a few of Soreina's weaknesses now. He spelled something that Kir couldn't make out; it repelled Soreina's hair blade that had formed for a strike. In a blinding speed, he gripped a cluster of her webby mane that no longer seemed to respond as she willed it. He wrapped the cord about her neck for the strangle.
Soreina was furious. She caterwauled and struggled, clearly taken aback by his move, but Kir couldn't watch the entire battle. There were too many claws and fangs jockeying for her attention. She worked to clear the doorway, noticing briefly from her periphery that Gevriah, fresh out of arrows, had taken to using the base Saiya Kunnai strikes against her foe. A broken chair leg was the weapon in her hand. Kir wanted to cheer. Instead, she directed her enthusiasm into the happily planted fist through a fury's temple.<
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Soreina's disembodied scream reverberated through the passage. It was a panic that could only mean her restraint was in Inagor's hands. Kir's heart soared with the sound. The master had taught her minion far too well, and the student was now returning a lesson.
Before Kir could move on to the kamai at Lili's feet, the burgundy Kionfire veil consumed her vision. The sword slipped from her grasp to clatter on the floor. The prior excitement blossomed into an uncontrollably turbulent ferocity that Kir had only ever known in the grip of her vengeance trail, and under the vorsnarm. Something had just tossed a barrel of fuel on her match, igniting it into a bonfire. Vann had described the very same Ruptor from the pit of his soul when his Kion had been unleashed. Kir knew that Soreina must have cast some Forbidden spell in the heat of frenzy. She had just poked Kir's Kion to waking.
Everything dissolved away to cold red fire and the snaky silverback dragon that enveloped Kir's essence. It was coiling the air around her, claiming her heart as its own, just as Vann's Kion had done to him. The dragon was long and serpentine, wingless and smooth, with penetrating, judgmental eyes. Icy wisps of Kionfire emanated from the length of its body. Nothing else existed. There was no command center and no royal party. No table surrounded by Vanns. No room of wide-eyes staring, as she imagined they were beyond her fire veil. There was nothing but the all-consuming conflagration that fed Kir's rage, and Kir's fury that fed it right back in a cycle. She felt as though she were being torn apart and remade again, over and over. The passion of her soul was the Kion's sustenance and it devoured her into itself. Their wills and intents were one; they were kindred and complete in the arms of the other. It took all Kir's determination to maintain control of her mind. It would have been easier to let herself go, to lose her awareness in the hum. But how could she? This was her first Kion party, and she was not about to miss it.
All sense of place and time was lost. A human form, glowing like incandescent metal, was the only thing Kir could see through the maelstrom. It was Soreina, by the shape. The Kion did not seem to care about the offender's name. Its only concern was the white hot residue of the Forbiddens that begged consumption. Kir couldn't feel her feet on the floor. She was whisked along with the churning Kionfire, sweeping the air like a specter. Snakey launched upon Soreina to char her to ash in justice for violation of the Godly laws. Its righteousness was absolute, and no other consideration could be fathomed in its alien perception.
Soreina screeched inhumanly against the pummel of the Kion's assault. She threw up her arms and her hair wove together in a fire shield. The white Forbidden residues that had tainted the witch were incinerated, but Soreina was left unharmed. She wilted and curled, singed but not destroyed. The Kion was unfazed by its failure. It launched again, scooping Soreina into its vortex. She fought for her life, thrashing and struggling against the torrents of icy flame. But again, she lived.
High Priest Galvatine had explained to Vann that there was one kind of person immune to Kionfire. It was pretty obvious now. Soreina had Dimishuan blood. The Kion could not slay her. It seemed to understand the thought without needing the words. With the Forbidden residues incinerated, the dragon resigned itself to the fact that its work was done. Its fires seethed, waiting for a Guardian to sheathe it. Kir couldn't allow that to happen. If Soreina was not stopped here, she would employ Forbiddens over and over until Inagor was defeated, which would keep the relentless dragon awake indefinitely. Kir could not power Snakey for long; the mana was consuming and she could die of depletion. Soreina needed a brisk invitation out the front door.
The Kion was willed to attention with nothing but the power of Kir's thoughts. In Dimishuan, the ancient language of the Gods, she commanded it to eject Soreina beyond the Barrier and gave it all the reasons it must comply. It didn't seem prone to being commanded by a human, even one bonded to it through the Karanni mark. The unyielding will of the dragon could not be reasoned with, any more than you could reason an earthquake to stop rumbling.
Kir's stubborn head wasn't about to give up. She had commanded a dragon before, through the power of her vambrace. The Bonding had left its echo in her soul, so she roped the familiar essence of the Guardian magic in her mind. With her intent wrapped in the memory of the vambrace's power, she commanded the Kion again. This time, it seemed more receptive.
Without preamble, Snakey enveloped Soreina in its swirling clutches of Kionfire. Kir gripped the kaienze tightly in her arms. The Kion sped down the hallway, sweeping them both along. They flew up what Kir assumed to be stairs, although her eyes could only make out blurry suggestions of shadows. She could tell when they broke into the light by the change in tone around them. They must have been atop the forward tower, directly over the river gate. The Kion pierced the Barrier without a hitch. Being a creature of the Gods, it was able to breach the most powerful of fortifications. Not even the superior Hilian Defensives could keep the hand of the Gods at bay. The fuchsia flicker zapped with the energy of a Blazer. Kir couldn't feel the sting.
Nothing was clearly visible beyond the fire veil, but Kir knew they were high. Soreina's eyes burned with a hate that rivaled the Kion's fury as Kir stared into them blankly. If only she could offer a smirk. Locked in the Kion's trance, she couldn't even force her lips to turn up.
“Enjoy him while you have him,” Soreina spat. “I will reclaim what is mine.”
Kir didn't, and couldn't, answer. Her voice would not work. Her arms did, and that was all that mattered. By the dragon's will, as though she were his puppet, Kir spread them wide, releasing Soreina to be claimed by the river below. Even if it didn't kill her, the impact would shatter her kaienze body and hurt something fierce. When the witch slipped beyond the floor of the flames, she was gone from Kir's awareness. The Kion was indifferent to Soreina's fate. It turned back and thrust through the Barrier, returning Kir to the safety of solid ground. They waited, smoldering, unspeaking.
Strong hands reached through the fire to grip Kir's shoulders from behind. The connection with the Kion was instantly staunched, and with the whirling catastrophe of a cyclone that whipped Kir's hair loose from its bindings, the flames evaporated. The burgundy Kionfire melted away to white Arshenholm stone below and dismal overcast skies above. As expected, they were on the top of the central tower rampart. A line of stunned soldiers and archers stood watching from their posts along the parapet, their mouths gaping.
Kir's knees gave out before she could turn. The firm hands on her shoulders caught her before she slumped to the stones.
“I've got you,” Inagor said steadily in her ear.
“I'm fine,” Kir panted. The Kion had sapped her, but she wasn't near depletion. She got her bearings with Inagor's assistance. “Survived your first Kion taming. Bet you never thought you'd be sheathing a dragon.”
Inagor harrumphed. “Bet you never thought you'd be wielding one.”
Kir cackled. “True, that. What about the Counselors?”
“Lili and the others stayed to guard the command center,” Malacar replied. He pressed Kir's sword back into her hand.
“Everyone is well. Copellian arrived moments ago with a battery of reinforcements. They've taken over guard,” Lili countered, coming through the stairway portal.
“And they brought provisions,” Gevriah put in cheerily from behind. Her quiver was freshly restocked. “That dragon was terrifying! Are you alright, Highness?”
For a highborn noblewoman who just faced her first battle, Gevriah did not fit the bill. The wide-eyed grin that spread across her face said she was anything but terrified. She looked downright thrilled at the skirmish and enlivened by the Kion. Kir knew for certain that Gevriah would fill an important role in her court, not only in Second Lady form, but on the war council, too. She had far too much potential as a strategist and commander to sequester her behind a poetry ring. She might have been a fledgling on the field, but it had not been evident in her behavior. Gevriah had felled a good number of the kaiyo, without flinch or s
hudder, and with an enthusiasm that rivaled Lyndal's.
“A mite sapped, but none the worse for wear,” Kir assured her. “I have to admit, it's a bit different being on the inside of the flames.”
“So, the battle's over, then? We're officially under siege?” one of the nearby archers asked.
“Seems so, bowmaster,” Inagor said.
Several of the Ithinar Steel warriors filtered onto the wall. Their tension eased immediately when they saw Kir, and their formality evaporated in favor of the affectionate teasing they so loved.
“From Kion tamer to Kion flamer!” Amari laughed, lifting her off the ground in a bear hug.
“I never want to be at the receiving end of your pissed-offedness,” Lyndal added. He was no longer dressed as Vann, having left that chore to the circle of willing decoys in the room below. “Your eyes were fierier than a hot iron poker, big sister.”
Kir managed a laugh. She knew the troops on the wall were watching the informal display, and they weren't seeing a Queeny kind of figure in her. She had enough to focus on without worrying about her image. Queens didn't tend to wear swords and Kir wasn't about to trade hers in, so she would just have to rewrite the image of what a Queen should be wearing.
Avalir took a post on the wall to inspect the distance, while Ulivall was bent over the rampart, searching for any sign of Soreina below.
Kir sidled him. “Did she hit the water or the ground?”
“Neither. One of those four-winged kaiyo caught her in midair and delivered her safely,” Ulivall reported.
Inagor cursed, but Kir could tell he wasn't completely upset that she was alive. He'd wanted Soreina for his own spanking, and the Kion had taken dibs on his opponent.
“There'll be another day,” Kir said, gripping his vambrace with steady confidence.
Inagor nodded, his jaw clenched firm.
“Let's get you back to the command center,” Ulivall said, ushering Kir toward the stairs.
Bardian's Redemption: Book Four of the Guardian's Vambrace (The Guardian Vambrace 4) Page 56
