Remy was standing a little way off by the castle walls, close to where Jaime and Mathieu had fought the shadow. Some of the Compact's men stood with him. She went towards them. Remy turned as she approached. His face was white and she could see the glimmer of tears.
Beyond him she saw Mathieu's body. He lay where he had fallen. She saw how still he lay.
"Please, my lady." Remy stood as if he would block her path.
She put a hand on his arm and he stood aside. She took three steps, each a terrible effort. She saw Mathieu.
"No, saints of mercy, no." She turned away.
Remy came to her side, but it was too late. She had seen Mathieu's face. It showed the same terrible suffering she had seen on Hugo's. It was not just the wounds the creature had made. The shadow had touched him.
"Jaime?" she looked round for him, fighting panic. This could not happen. She saw him lying a little way off. Bruno was kneeling by his side. She ran towards them. As she came close she heard the murmur of Bruno's voice. Jaime was alive, but she could see the terrible wounds. She remembered what Roslaire had said about the wounds made by the shadow creature.
Brushing tears away, she went to kneel across from Bruno. Slowly Jaime turned his head and looked up at her.
"Mariette," his breath came in short, desperate gasps. "I'm sorry."
"I saw what you did. How you saved us," she said. She took his hand. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It is I who should apologize." It was hard to hold her voice steady. "You were not to blame."
"I failed him." There was still a spark of flame in the hazel eyes. "But I would have died for him," he said.
"I know." She reached to touch his face.
He tried to rise. Gently Bruno pressed him down.
"The creature? What is happening?" Jaime asked weakly. "No one can stand against the shadow. You must take the children and run from this place."
Mariette leaned close. "It's alright. We have allies, the Allesari. Micia of Allesarion's assassins." She spoke softly and did her best to make the words convincing. "I do not know how they came here, but one of them has a sword that can wound the shadow creature. He battles it now. You would be impressed by his skill." She swallowed her tears and continued. "Do not worry. We are safe." Her eyes met Bruno's. "And there is a magister from Allesarion. He will heal you. Soon it will be done, just a little longer." Already she felt his grip on her hand slackening.
###
Charles stepped closer to the ring of flames. He hardly noticed the heat or the sword in his hand. He tried to advance towards the flames, but a slight figure blocked his way.
"Stand back." It was a woman's voice. "You cannot help him."
He stared at the woman in confusion. "Who are you?"
"We are the Allesari," she said, softly. Her hand still pressed against his chest.
"Who is that?" he asked, raising a hand to point at the man battling the shadow.
She did not answer.
Someone came to stand at his shoulder. "Charles are you injured?"
He recognized his father's voice.
A hand gripped his shoulder, drawing him back from the flames. "Charles, are you hurt," his father asked again.
"I'm fine." He could not tear his gaze from the battle beyond the flames. The impossibility of the shadow creature confused his thoughts. How could such a thing be? He had heard it roar, seen the blade formed of shadow poised above him. Known that when the shadow blade fell he would die. In some way he was still caught by that moment. He watched the battle and to Charles it felt as if his own life was tied to that of the man who had saved his life.
Martial skill had never mattered greatly to him. In his world, words had always been more dangerous than swords. He could defend himself with words. Words started wars. Words ended wars. But words would not serve him here. Not even the chanted words of the sorcerers could defeat the shadow.
Within the circle the shadow creature shifted and reformed, shadow hardened into blades. The man moved like silk; his slender blade sliced through shadow. More shadow blades formed, dazzlingly fast. He struck again. One of the shadow blades slashed his leg and he staggered.
Charles could not breathe. A sense of dread filled him. No man could stand against the shadow alone.
"We must help him." He moved forward. The Allesari barred his way. He started to raise his blade.
"Charles!" His father caught him roughly by the arm. "After all they have done, we must trust them. And we do not understand what is happening here."
"One man, alone, while we stand and watch, how can that be right?"
Lorenzo de Etrives moved closer. He bowed to the Allesari. "We are in your debt. Allow us to thank you properly. May I know your name?"
She hesitated but only for a moment. She removed the veil that covered her face. "My name is Innana. I serve Micia of Allesarion." She gave the slightest bow. "There is no debt. My Queen will not allow such evil to thrive. It is a duty the rulers of Allesarion accepted long ago."
Beyond the flames the man faced the shadow in a sudden moment of stillness. It did not last. The creature slid towards him, a lance of shadow appeared. The man's sword flashed, slicing through shadow, but there were other shadow blades. One sliced towards his neck. He ducked and stumbled to one knee. Charles did not see the shadow strike him, but the man cried out, a wordless cry, quickly silenced.
"Is there nothing we can do?" Duke Lorenzo asked quietly. "Your champion is skilled, but it is too much to ask of one man."
"He is the Azerri, the sword bearer. It is his duty." Innana spoke without emotion, and seeing her words did not convince them she continued. "No other blade could withstand the shadow. You would die."
"We could distract the shadow creature," said Charles.
She turned to him. "You would die," she said. "Or the Azerri would die to protect you." The coldness was gone from her voice. "Please listen to me," she said. "It is important."
Charles looked through the flames. The man Innana called the Azerri was back on his feet. He still fought with grace and courage. But he was slowing. Charles had little experience of such things, if he could see the change then it must be marked. He looked to his father.
It was Duke Lorenzo who spoke. "And if he falls?"
"I know it is difficult, but you must trust us." Innana was watching the battle. She seemed confident, but Charles saw a new intensity in her gaze.
He looked back to the contest and saw the Azerri fall. The shadow swept towards him. In that moment Charles longed for the martial abilities he had so often scorned. He saw his father and Lorenzo charge forward. Impossibly the Allesari held them back. Beyond the flames the Azerri struggled to rise. He still held the shining blade and it was enough to keep the shadow at bay, but for how long.
On the other side of the circle there was a flash of movement. A figure leaped through the flames and on to the fighting ground. Charles saw it was the fair haired Allesari knight.
"Will his blade withstand the shadow?" he asked.
"No," said Innana softly. He heard her fear. She did not take her eyes from the circle.
The Allesari knight called out some sort of challenge. His words did not carry to Charles, but something in their cadence caught his ear. He stared, transfixed, as the shadow turned towards the new challenger. It was clearly the knight's intention to draw the shadow creature to him. If what Innana said was true it was an act of insane bravery, or trust in the Azerri.
The Allesari knight advanced to meet the shadow. He raised his sword as the creature sent out tendrils of shadow that quickly formed into blades. The knight attacked. The first shadow blade shattered his sword.
In that moment the Azerri surged to his feet. Despite his wounds, he covered the distance to the shadow creature impossibly fast. His sword blazed as it struck, cutting unhindered to the heart of the shadow. The creature roared and tried to turn, but the dazzling blade struck again and again. The shadow roiled and weakened beneath the onslaught. As Charles watched th
e shadow faded, like smoke, leaving something made of bones and flesh. The Azerri struck once more and the creature slumped to the floor.
A strange silence fell. The Azerri and the knight stood together in the center of the circle. One of them laughed, Charles could not tell which. He was caught again by a sense of familiarity. He saw his father was watching them too.
"Is it done?" asked Duke Lorenzo.
Charles turned to hear her answer.
"It is done," Innana said. Her voice was calm, as if the outcome had never been in doubt. But Charles had seen her relief. "The magister will destroy what is left of the creature."
"Was it a man?" The Prince asked.
"It was once a man. But there is nothing of the man left. The Rhiasthe consumed him."
Charles shuddered. The flames died down. The magister passed through the embers and walked towards the slumped figure. The young Tarsien monk went with him. As they approached, the Azerri retreated, aided by the knight. Together they crossed out of the circle and disappeared among the Allesari.
Charles sighed, as if waking from a dream.
He saw Mariette coming towards them. She had been crying, but she held her head high as she came to face Innana.
"You are Queen Micia's Allesari?" she asked.
Innana bowed. "We are."
"You have defended my home. I thank you. I will not forget what I owe you, and your Queen."
Innana bowed again, lower and longer. "There are no debts here," she said softly.
Mariette stared at her. At last she said, "Montmercy offers you hospitality and any aid we may provide. We will tend your injured."
Innana shook her head. "We are grateful for your offer, but we must leave." She looked to Rupert and Lorenzo. "It would not be politic for our part in this to be known."
Charles saw his father and Lorenzo exchange a glance of understanding.
"It will not be known," said Prince Rupert. "But Chamfort will not forget the debt we owe."
Innana stared at him. "The debt is ours. If you ever have need of aid send to Allesarion. We will come." She raised a fist, saluting the Prince. "My Queen pledges you her friendship." A moment later she was gone.
Charles watched his father. He saw his shock and a barely hidden grief, and knew how hard it was for him to hear this extraordinary pledge and know why it was made. Lorenzo de Etrives laid a hand on the Prince's shoulder. Then, without speaking, he offered his arm to Mariette.
She was also watching the Prince. The last light of the flames showed the tears glistening on her face. Prince Rupert turned to her. He shook his head and smiled. Charles saw the sadness in his father's face as he embraced Mariette. When he released her she took Lorenzo's arm. They left in silence.
Dazed by the night's events, Charles stood beside his father and searched for the words to make things right between them. He still held his sword. Quickly he slid the blade into the scabbard.
"You should clean that sword," his father spoke without looking round.
"Yes, I will."
"I saw you fight," his father spoke softly. "The way you faced the shadow, that took courage."
"No," he shook his head. "It was something between idiocy and insanity.
The Prince turned. "I was proud of you."
Charles swallowed, but his voice was rough when he spoke. "My martial skills do not reflect well on Chamfort." He shook his head and smiled ruefully. "I know this because Edouard mentioned it once or twice." He spoke the name no one else dared mention, and prayed it was what his father needed to hear from him.
After a long moment his father smiled. "He would have been proud of you."
Charles sighed with relief. "But even so, I think some time training with Gerald and Antonio would be wise, if you will have me?"
"You are my son. Chamfort is always your home," his father said.
They walked back shoulder to shoulder.
Chapter 105
Cat woke early. Too early. Though it was light outside the inn was silent. It was just past dawn, or so she judged from the light filtering through the shutters. She listened. The inn was so quiet, neither her mother nor the scullion could be up yet.
Cat sighed. It had been a busy, late night. She was tired. Plumping the pillow she tried to settle, but sleep would not come. She thought of her sister. It was not unusual for her to think of Rosa, but this morning it was hard to think of anything else.
With a sigh, she got out of bed and started to dress. She would feed the chickens and go to Rosa's grave. She often went to talk to her sister; doing so always comforted her. As she descended the stairs from her room in the loft, the inn was dark and still. She went quietly, avoiding the creaking stairs. No one would thank her for waking them this early.
Outside a huge red sun hung on the horizon. A light frost whitened the grass and leaves and formed a skin of ice on the puddles. The barn was warm and smelled of sweet hay and horses. She took a scoop of corn and slipped out into the cold morning.
The chickens came running when they saw her. She scattered the corn; after layering the bowl with straw she gathered the eggs. She carried them with her as she passed through the orchard. Rosa's grave was in a hidden glade just beyond the orchard. They had planted flowers.
She climbed the small slope and halted, staring. A dark haired man knelt by Rosa's grave. Cat started forward. She opened her mouth to cry out. There was movement behind her. An iron grip encircled her throat. The bowl and eggs fell from her hands. Her captor pushed her down the slope, out of sight of the inn.
The dark haired man rose with lethal grace. She recognized him at once.
"Angelo, let her go," he said urgently.
After a moment the fingers eased the pressure on her neck. She broke free. When she had her breath back she carried on down the slope. She stopped facing Edouard de Chamfort across Rosa's grave.
"You," she said. "But they say you died in Allesarion." He looked different, older. His hair was short. There was an ugly scar, newly healed, running from his chin to disappear beneath his shirt. He ran a hand through short hair, a strangely familiar gesture.
The other man had followed her. She glanced round. A golden haired man stood a little way off. He was very handsome and very angry. He ignored her and turned to Edouard.
"This is madness, think of what you risk if she talks," he snarled, ignoring her. "After everything. If she…"
"Leave it, Angel." Edouard did not take his eyes from hers. The silence lengthened.
"At least tell her what is at stake. Why she must keep silent," said Angelo.
Edouard bowed his head for a moment. "He's right. I must beg your silence. For my family's sake, everyone must believe I died in Allesarion."
"You ask me to protect your family," she said, keeping her voice flat and even. She remembered every word the villagers had told her about her Rosa's death. They had been so certain. She must know the truth.
He moved back a pace. "What have you heard? Who have you spoken to?" he asked.
"The Duchess Mariette." She watched his face. "And the villagers who witnessed Rosa's death."
Angelo cursed, but Edouard was silent, rigidly still.
"What did they tell you?"
"That they saw you by Rosa's body, you were covered in her blood. The say you killed my sister."
The birds were singing. It seemed strange. The villagers had been so certain. She realized that she had not allowed herself to truly think about it, until now.
"I was there," he said. "But I didn't harm her."
"What happened?"
He shook his head. It was a long time before he spoke. "St Andre's men attacked the village. She was hurt and ran to the woods. I followed." The words died and it was with an effort he continued. "I saw a fleeing figure and went to hunt it down."
Cat swallowed rage and tears.
"When I found her, and saw what she was." Again words failed him. "She was hurt. There was nothing I could do." He looked up, met her gaze. "We spoke. She gave
me her gift. A warning. I didn't understand then but she was right." He shook his head. There was no mistaking his sadness and regret. "She tried to help me."
It made a terrible sense. She had often wondered what had forged the connection between them.
"I didn't harm her."
"I believe you," she said. "I am sorry…" It was her turn to struggle for words.
"No, it is I who am sorry, for all you and your family have suffered." He stopped at her gesture, but only for a moment. "There are things I have done. I never lied to you. But you should know the truth."
"I know what I need to know." She began to understand that this was not a homecoming, but rather a farewell.
He walked around Rosa's grave until he stood before her, raising his hand. In the center of his palm lay a heavy, silver signet ring. She saw the Chamfort crest. He offered it to her.
"I'm going away. I came to leave this for you," he said. "Take the ring, if you or your family ever need help go to my father at Chamfort."
"No," she said. "I can't take this, it's your heritage."
"Not anymore."
She did not understand.
"Please take it."
Slowly she reached out and took the ring. She held it in her hand and watched him. A sense of the future came to her; it was indistinct. Rosa had the true gift, but at this moment she felt she might see...
She reached out her hand.
He retreated from her. Angelo came to his side.
"You'll return," she said to Edouard, not sure if it was a question or statement.
He shook his head. "Edouard de Chamfort died in Allesarion. That is how it must be. Too many would suffer if that changed." He glanced over his shoulder. "I have another life now. Another duty."
Angelo shifted impatiently.
"A moment more," said Edouard.
"What purpose does this serve? You know what is at stake," Angelo said urgently. "What you risk if you are seen." He looked angry and impatient, or perhaps he was worried.
Edouard turned to her. "Please, no one must know."
"I will keep your secret." She tossed the ring to him. He made no move to catch it. The ring landed at his feet and lay among the frosty grass. "Your family and your heritage, you can't give that up."
Traitor Blade: (Books 1-3) Page 101
