Bardian's Redemption: Book Four of the Guardian's Vambrace (The Guardian Vambrace 4)

by H. Jane Harrington

  “Eshuen, issue summons to Chamberlain Gensing. Deliver him here for parlay, to discuss the terms of my surrender.”

  “Belay that,” Ulivall countered quickly. “I will not allow this course of action, Kir. You must not fall into enemy hands.”

  “Alokien has the means to Vann's rescue. I'm the only one that can get close enough to take it back.”

  “I will chain you to this table before—” Malacar warned.

  “And I will do whatever it takes to rescue Vann,” Kir interrupted firmly. “As his Guardian, you can't counter a move that will save him, Malacar.”

  “Then Alokien will have half of the package he wants,” he protested.

  “If I'm close to him, I can finish what Scilio started when he rammed the soulblade in Soventine's overstuffed belly. Last year, Vann went to Empyrea playing the role of the ignorant prince. I can do the same thing, playing the submissive affianced, prancing pretty. I'll steal this soul-a-bobber out from under Alokien's nose, take back the Lotus Palace and put my blade through his ale-pot. Not necessarily in that order.”

  “Do you honestly think Guardian Draback will stand aside and allow you to slay his Guarded?” Ulivall asked through his consternation.

  “It will be over so fast, the Guardians won't even know what happened. I'm quick like that.”

  “No, no, no. This is all wrong. It's not advisable to kill Soventine's vessel while Alokien is in possession,” Farning said. “Alokien's soul would be expelled from the host, it's true, but unless He is severed in a Prophecy chamber, He would be free for Collection. That is to say, Alokien could be reborn into a mortal vessel. He's a God—who's to say He couldn't manipulate the timing of His rebirth? If He can do that, He can wait until you and His Majesty produce an heir of your own, and perhaps inhabit that child. The outcome would still be in His favor. Soventine's death is the last thing we want right now. To return Alokien to the beyond, to the rift where He has resided these long eons, He must be delivered in a holy chamber keep by the blade of a nousectional and expelled from the blade's conduit. That's the only way to ensure He goes back to where He belongs.”

  Kir hadn't thought of that. She scowled her answer.

  “Kiriana, think,” Inagor spoke calmly, the steady voice of reason. “Alokien is shrewd and well aware of your abilities. If he gets his hands on you, he will not issue trust and will have you collared and secured. He may decide not to wait for Vann's vessel. What if he grows impatient and decides to make a child as a backup plan? If Alokien succeeded in creating a Shunatar heir with you, it would diminish Vann's value. In that case, Vann may not be spared if Alokien were to find him.”

  “It won't ever come to that,” Kir said. There were a whole lot of ifs in that scenario, and Kir had too much confidence in her warriorhood to entertain the notion of being imprisoned and raped by someone unskilled in close-quarters combat, even if the someone in question was a God. She had overpowered Gensing, a kaienze, with a blade at her throat; Alokien wasn't even a warrior. “But even if it did, I won't stand for bearing anything of that kadda's. I would take his offspring and as many of his people with me as I could.”

  “If you die, he will use someone else. This will not end with you,” Lili reminded her darkly.

  Kir sighed heavily. She understood their arguments and their desperation to protect her, but the key to Vann's rescue was in Alokien's hands. What else could she do?

  “Think past the length of your blade. This is not good strategy. There is another way, and we will find it,” Inagor said steadily.

  Kir nodded reluctantly, still overcome with the urge to trade sacrifice and grand martyrdom for her impatient temper.

  Everyone teetered on uncomfortable silence, sinking into rounds of deep brainstorming. Kir's guts were dancing in her throat. Even though Inagor was there with her in the room, Kir drew the Arrelius dagger for comfort, as she had done so many times before. Her thumb rubbed the crest in circles. The repetition was comforting to the soul, and yet, stirring to the mind.

  “What about the High Priest?” Eshuen asked. “Can he help?”

  Farning snorted like he had inhaled a toad. “Galvatine? That ornery old slug wouldn't lift a finger in the name of helpfulness.”

  Kir hated herself to voice agreement with Farning and risk inflating his arrogance any further, but she had to admit he was probably right. “Galvatine's been out for Vann's head for ages. I doubt very much he'd change his tune now, especially since his every fear has been realized in the Chaos Bringer's birth. It's exactly what he was trying to kill Vann to prevent.”

  “We still have the General on our side. Farraday is in Empyrea. Maybe he can help procure the device,” Rendack suggested.

  “I don't think it's a wise course of action to use General Farraday for this mission,” Gevriah commented thoughtfully. She seemed taken aback at her own voice, throwing in a mousy little gasp as she shot an insecure glance at Kir.

  Something about Gevriah's timidity oozed charm and a cuteness that Kir found endearing. Despite her keen intellect, Gevriah was only seventeen, and she obviously wasn't comfortable with her new role at Kir's side. The Empyrean circles Gevriah had been raised and molded for had never dazzled at her brilliance before, probably finding her too blinding for their good senses. Kir could not, and dared not, let Gevriah's ideas be brushed under any manner of rug.

  Kir nodded permission. “Go on, Gev. Your insight is why you are here. I expect just such candor from my advisers.”

  The sun rose in Gevriah's cheeks, but she cleared her throat before continuing in earnest. “There are so many things that could go wrong at any point of such an attempt. The Chaos Bringer certainly has the device heavily Barriered and Warded against theft, in which case, any tampering would alert him. According to General Jorrhen, Farraday is being closely monitored. If Farraday represents your sole ally in the enemy's house, you don't want to sacrifice your only remaining Gold General to the King just yet,” Gevriah said with growing confidence as Kir grinned at the shogi reference—Vann would have appreciated it, too. “You need another agent on the inside. Someone familiar with the palace and able to move freely within. Someone not being watched at all times. What about servies?”

  “His Majesty's core staff came to Cornia with us, and they're all here now. A few of the Tree Viper volunteers stayed behind, but contacting them may put their cover in jeopardy,” Copellian said. “Alokien has eyes on the scrollboard network.”

  Lyndal piped up. “What about Guardian Scilio? He could shadow-hop inside the palace, couldn't he? I mean, he's a Shunatar. Creatures of the Gods can bust through the most powerful Defensives. Ulivall's got a stash of mage cloaks tucked away that we confiscated from dead Keepers at Kion Rising. Guardian Scilio could jig right through the Barriers and steal the soulblade without setting off the Wards.”

  “Dulcet, Master Warrior Lyndal!” Gevriah chimed, apparently not realizing that Lyndal hadn't earned his title yet (though Kir chose not to correct her—Lyndal had damn near graduated in Kir's mind). “I didn't know Guardian Scilio was immune to Defensive Barriers and the like. This talent is an asset. We could take Captain Bounty's airship to retrieve him in White Tower, then fly to High Empyrea. If we get close enough, he can use the mage cloak to—shadow-hop, did you call it?—to the grounds.”

  “That's not a bad idea, but the trip from here to White Tower to Empyrea would take five or six days, even by airship. I don't want to leave Vann alone with Tarnavarian that long. Also, it puts Scilio in a precarious position. If he is captured, Alokien might try to reclaim him like before. Alokien needs a Guardian to safely perform the ritual. I don't want to hand Scilio right to him if I can help it. Are there any alternative ideas?”

  There were shaking heads and no takers. Kir was about to agree to the plan, when Gevriah piped up again.

  “Master Prophet, is Alokien's soulblade the only one of its kind?”

  “Of course not. There are six others. One per God, natural
ly. I've seen them, on grand display in their cases. They are housed in the Relic Room, in the Archives wing of the Citadel. Only priests above a certain level are allowed there, and I just happen to be one of the privileged few.” Farning's chest swelled in his puffery.

  “Must we use Alokien's? Or would one of the others suffice?” Gevriah prodded.

  “They all perform the same function,” Farning answered smugly. His eyes were still glittery from the self-important throne he had climbed on. “Any one of them should do the job.”

  “And you're just now telling us this?” Kir thundered.

  “Well, how would it help? We're here. They're there. Not exactly accessible, are they? The old slug guards that room with a jealous passion,” Farning argued.

  “I suppose we could chance it and contact the High Priest,” Inagor suggested. “If he understands the situation, he might be willing to meet us in White Tower with one of them.”

  “Would Galvatine go against his God and his King to help us?” Malacar asked skeptically. “We don't know where he stands. It's too dangerous to risk. If he runs to Alokien with the news of what we're planning, they could lock the room down completely, before we even set foot in the Citadel. It's the most fortified place in all of Septauria. In full lockdown, it would be impossible to enter.”

  “You were a Citadel guard, Malacar,” Kir said. “You're more familiar with that place than any of us. With a mage cloak, could you sneak into the Relic Room without alerting Galvatine?”

  “I know my way around, but the Archives wing was restricted to all but priests. I've only guarded the entry. As long as Defensives are set to base levels, I could probably shadow-hop into one of the public chambers and steal a Barrier key to gain entry. If they're set to emergency status, and knowing Alokien, they probably are, not even a mage cloak will get through,” Malacar answered grimly. “Unless you're a Shunatar, that is...”

  “So we're back to Scilio,” Kir sighed.

  “It looks that way. A Shunatar is going to have the best chance of getting through the superior Defensives.”

  They had a mage cloak. What they needed now was a Shunatar. Xavien had already proven how adept a Shunatar could be at shadow-hopping and sneakiness under a cloak. He had used it to infiltrate the tightest Defensives anywhere, from Hili to the halls of the Lotus Palace, which had its own fair share of protective spells to keep unwanted visitors out. He had visited Kir easily in the Brace months before, challenging her to a mock duel to cheer her up. There was no doubt that Xavien had complete access to all parts of the palace, since the personal artifacts he had gifted Kir in Hili were stolen from Tarnavarian's private apartments. Even the Arrelius dagger had been planted in her room in the Brace. Slinky as he was, Xavien obviously knew the palace inside and out. As a rogue Shadow Mage, he probably knew the Citadel, too.

  “Scilio's not the only Shunatar in the world,” Kir thought aloud. “We need someone who can move faster than we can. Someone who has the ability to shadow-hop over long distances without limit. A slinky weasel...”

  “You can't mean—” Malacar balked.

  “I can and I do. I've got a decent card up my vambrace. Question is, how to contact him. At last word, Xavien was rumbling with Ashkorai on the moonless.”

  “He was indeed. When my vambrace turned black, the devious coward retreated into his cloak,” Malacar barked in disgust. “He is your greatest nemesis, Kir. You cannot trust him.”

  “Maybe not, but he's a better piece to sacrifice than Scilio, isn't he? If Scilio got caught, Alokien would have his favorite toy back again. He'd be a drop

  piece—Alokien would turn him back against us.” Kir flashed Gevriah a half-moon grin at her own clever shogi reference. “Xavien is experienced at espionage, skulking about and slipping around the palace unnoticed. If he were to get collared, it's less of a problem for us.”

  “But as you said, nobody knows where Keeper Xavien is,” Inagor reminded her.

  “Not nobody. There's someone might...” Kir's breath caught in her lungs as she grasped another crazy idea. “Guardian Ashkorai.”

  Nobody spoke. They stared at her, trying to work their way through her logic.

  Ashkorai was at the top of Xavien's hit list. Xavien had told Kir during their little jaunt around the dance floor at the First Wedding that Ashkorai had been exceedingly difficult to track down. Kir suspected that Ashkorai had his finger on the pulse of the cloak somehow. He had been able to stay one step ahead of his disgruntled ex-Guardian brother for quite some time, which meant he had some means of knowing where Xavien was moving. It didn't matter how he did it. What mattered was that he might be able to use that knowledge to send Xavien a message on Kir's behalf. It was a long shot, but far better than no shot.

  As Xavien no longer had access to the Guardian magic, Kir couldn't contact him directly, but she could reach Ashkorai. On the plains of Mercaria, Ashkorai had made contact with Vann through a Prophetic connection in the Guardian Bonding. In Hili, he'd roped Kir into a vision by the same method. Because he had some Prophetics, the Bonding had allowed him to connect to Vann and Kir, even though they weren't in his direct Guardian circle. The Karanni magic probably provided the channel, in conjunction with the Guardian magic. It had been extremely taxing for him and he could not hold the Prophetic vision for long, but it had been enough. If Ashkorai could do it, why couldn't Kir? She had newly enhanced Prophetics, thanks to the Karanni mark that leveled her up a notch or two. Now all she needed was a way to enhance her Prophetics even more, enough to give her a boost.

  “Master Prophet, might you have any cashnettar on your person?” Kir asked suddenly, feeling confident in her decision. Nothing could deter her now.

  “Of course. I always carry a stash along. Old Prophet's habit,” Farning said.

  “I need you to light me a pipe.”

  “It's a valuable commodity, Highness. Quite expensive on the

  darkets—”

  Kir didn't have time to argue with the man. Every moment that ticked away was one more slice to Vann's soul. “Are you gonna sell me some, or am I gonna have to rob the whole stash at blade point? I'm a generous individual with my bargaining tools, either way.”

  Farning muttered unintelligibly under his breath as he produced a leather pouch from inside his shirt. He handed it over begrudgingly. Tucked neatly inside was a travel pipe and a healthy supply of the stringy mahogany weed that smelled nutty and sweet. Kir screwed the pipe together, fished out a pinch, then packed the cashnettar into the bowl in the way Beyhue had showed her before. Her thumb flicked a switch that set a tiny Inferno to the weed, and she tapped it down as she puffed.

  Kir waited for a few silent moments, feeling the effects of the cashnettar coating her lungs in a heavy layer. It was a strange, thickening sensation that spread like wildfire; although it didn't exactly hurt, it was nearly as uncomfortable as she imagined drowning to be (without the panic). Maybe that's what the cashnettar was doing—killing her in miniature with every puff. Farning had told Vann once that Prophecy was found in holding oneself at the brink of death.

  Everyone stared, wide-eyed, as though they expected something sudden to happen. Kir, herself, wasn't exactly sure what would come next. When she had smoked the cashnettar with Beyhue, her visit to Vann's little corner of nowhere had happened after she had fallen asleep. Nothing of Prophetic interest had occurred before then. She realized that she would have to be the catalyst.

  Kir fell into her recollection, fishing up the memory of the Hiliharian Kion ship's deck, where Ashkorai had pulled her into the Guardian Bonding the year before. She had felt like she was imploding, falling into herself. If that represented what it was like to be summoned, it stood to reason that it would be the opposite sensation on the other side. Kir brought Ashkorai's image and aura to the forefront of her mind and focused intently on his vambrace, casting every edge of her soul and knowings outward, expanding herself into the fabric of the world. Her waking vision washed out i
n muddlement. It was only instinct guiding her, but she did not pause to lose focus in the realization that she should have asked Farning for instructions or advice before she took the plunge.

  When Kir snagged Ashkorai's awareness, it felt like a tug on her soul, as though she had hooked him with her knowings and was reeling him into her reality. There was a hazy blue backdrop with no solid ground to support her feet. It was disconcerting to be incorporeal, so Kir willed a firmness to the imagined ground. This world was of her own crafting. She controlled the essence as much as she controlled the tether on the person suddenly standing before her in this other state of being.

  He was large of shoulder and broad of chest, even without armor. A cloak obscured whatever he was wearing beneath, though Kir could make out a hint of red fabric that reminded her of Tarnavarian. His green eyes glowed, animal-like, as he studied her intensely.

  “Guardian Ashkorai,” Kir greeted.

  “Highness,” he replied tentatively.

  Holding the Bonding was incredibly straining and Kir could already feel the threads tugging her back to the tangible world. “Do you know where Xavien is?”

  Ashkorai hesitated, his eyes squinting until they looked like green almonds. He acknowledged with a slow nod. “I do.”

  “I need his location.”

  “For what purpose?” Ashkorai seemed strangely suspicious, or maybe defensive.

  Kir couldn't imagine why he would want to protect the man who was so anxious to collect his tabard as a trophy. “I need to relay a message to him urgently,” she explained. “It regards the events of the moonless night.”

  “Incidentally, the events of said moonless have led Xavien and I to a temporary truce. He is with me now,” Ashkorai said.

  Truce? Kir had difficulty in stopping her face muscles from squinching up and displaying her disbelief at that prospect. “Huh. I'll be roped and hogtied,” she muttered. “Well, bully to you both, I reckon.”

  “Wait. I will pull him into the conference.” Ashkorai closed his eyes in focus, and in three heartbeats, Xavien's form materialized beside him.