by Lisa Shearin
Piaras Rivalin was a spellsinger, possibly the best of his generation. He’d also apprenticed with his grandmother as an apothecary. Tarsilia had taught him more than mixing poultices. The kid knew the nastier blends—potions, drugs, poisons, and the antidotes to them all. An elven teenager probably wouldn’t need to whip up an antidote on a moment’s notice, but a Guardian just might. And last, but definitely not least, due to being under Sarad Nukpana’s psychic influence a few weeks ago, Piaras also had the full measure of the goblin’s deadly skill with a sword.
Like I said, the kid was on the Guardian fast track.
The Guardian’s gym smelled like sweat and worn leather and steel with the coppery tang of blood thrown in for good measure. It was also hot and noisy.
Piaras was in a fighting ring with a Guardian trainer and looked like he was having the time of his young life.
Piaras had come to apprentice with Tarsilia Rivalin when he was eight years old. Phaelan and I had decided that it just wasn’t right for a kid to spend his days only learning about a bunch of dried plants. Not that that wasn’t a good thing to know, but we felt he needed to know more, especially if he was going to live in Mermeia and, most important, stay alive in Mermeia. Tarsilia agreed. I taught him defense and evasion, and Phaelan took care of offense and confrontation—and we didn’t teach him to fight fair. Piaras was tall and lanky, so if anyone came after him with deadly intentions, the kid better be able to make his first move count or run like hell. I’d made sure he knew that there’s no shame in running, only in being caught.
Considering what had happened to Piaras in the past two months just as a result of knowing me and getting tangled up in my problems, I was all for the Guardians furthering his education in every way possible.
And becoming a Conclave Guardian was the fulfillment of Piaras’s lifelong dream. He couldn’t see himself behind an apothecary counter or singing magical lullabies for some noble’s bratty children. As a Guardian, he felt he could make a difference.
Piaras wasn’t singing right now. He was fighting, the hand-to-hand variety. At eighteen years old, Piaras was plenty tall, but he had some filling out to do.
“How’s he doing?” I asked Vegard.
“There are a few rough spots.” He shrugged. “But we all have our strong points, and our not-so-strong points. Piaras’s should solve themselves once he gets some more weight on him. He’s quick; he’s got that going for him.” He flashed a grin. “If you have to be scrawny, at least be fast.”
I smiled. “Is he eating the Guardians out of house and home?”
Vegard chuckled. “He’s trying, but we haven’t had a cadet succeed yet.”
Piaras spotted me and took his attention off his trainer for a blink of an eye. That was all the time it took for the man to administer an object lesson Piaras wouldn’t soon forget. I winced. One second Piaras was on his feet; the next he was on the mat, flat on his back.
Vegard whistled. “That one’s gonna hurt tomorrow.”
Piaras was slowly picking himself up as we walked over to the ring.
“That was my fault, darlin’,” I told Piaras. “Sorry about that.”
“It was his eyes’ fault for wandering,” the trainer said.
Piaras finished hauling himself to his feet with no help. Made sense. Your enemy sure as hell wasn’t going to help you up on a battlefield or in a back alley.
His trainer spoke without turning to look at him. “Distractions are deadly, Cadet Rivalin.”
Vegard grinned. “It’s not always good to let a beautiful woman catch your eye.”
“Lesson’s over, Piaras,” the trainer told him. “I don’t think the lady’s here just to see you sprawled on your back.”
Piaras took off his head gear, exposing dark, curly hair; though now it was dark, damp, curly hair. The kid had a pair of big brown eyes that could have gotten him any coed on the island. He was taller than me and still growing. Piaras had potential written all over him, and I was going to do everything in my power to make sure we were both alive to see how he turned out.
Piaras took out his mouthpiece, blew some apparently much needed air in and out of his lungs, then tried some words. “Thank you, sir,” he said to his trainer. He looked at me. “You didn’t come just to see me embarrass myself, did you?”
“No, but I’m not opposed to unexpected entertainment.”
Vegard tossed Piaras a towel that was draped over the ring ropes. “Get yourself cleaned up, little brother, and make it quick.”
Piaras looked questioningly from me to Vegard and back again.
“We need to talk,” I told him.
Piaras headed off toward the locker room, and two expressionless Guardians followed him. One remained by the door; the other went in with Piaras. I recognized them both. They’d been Piaras’s shadows since a few days before Sarad Nukpana escaped the Saghred.
Until then, it’d been an accepted fact that the Saghred couldn’t be opened or destroyed. It wouldn’t be the first time or the last that accepted fact turned out to be absolute fiction. A couple of millennia ago, the demons were some of the first to get their collective claws on the Saghred. Realizing there were tasty souls trapped inside, the king of demons ordered that a way be found to open it. The demons not only found a way to open the rock; they forged the means to do it—the Scythe of Nen, a dagger no longer than my hand. The Saghred didn’t like being opened and having its souls slurped out like oysters. The rock slurped back, and the demon king was now a prisoner with the souls he’d been trying to eat.
Two weeks ago, the demon queen came looking for the Saghred and the Scythe of Nen to free her husband. To force me to find the Scythe of Nen first, and free him from the Saghred, Sarad Nukpana invaded Piaras’s dreams, essentially possessing him. That possession plus Nukpana’s sword skills had nearly resulted in Piaras committing a cold-blooded murder. There were men on Mid who were just waiting for the chance to lock Piaras up, and they’d almost gotten their wish.
The two Guardian bodyguards were Mychael’s idea of a preventative measure to keep Sarad Nukpana from getting back into Piaras’s head. Mychael had assured me that Nukpana wouldn’t go after Piaras immediately, if at all, but I felt better that he obviously wasn’t taking any chances.
My expression must have said that I didn’t think two Guardians were enough, regardless of how big and magically talented they were.
“Piaras won’t be leaving the citadel until Sarad Nukpana’s been terminated,” Vegard said. “Every Guardian in the citadel is watching him.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” I told him. “When it comes to revenge, Sarad Nukpana likes the personal touch. But if he can’t get to Piaras himself, he’s perfectly capable of getting someone else to do it for him.” I hesitated. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but Mychael’s already had one Guardian turn traitor. In my experience, traitors are like rats; if you find one, there’s more in a dark corner somewhere.”
Piaras came out a few minutes later wearing his dove gray Guardian cadet uniform, his dark curls now damp from a quick shower. Vegard’s and Piaras’s heavily armed shadows gave us some privacy and we found a quiet corner near a rack of wicked-looking bladed pikes.
“What’s wrong?” Piaras asked point-blank, his large brown eyes solemn.
Like me, Piaras knew that when someone said, “We need to talk,” chances were it wasn’t going to be something you wanted to hear. Until recently, I would have tried to protect him by telling him only as much as he needed to know, no more. Now ignorance was deadly.
I told him everything, leathery corpses and all.
“Are you having any more dreams about Sarad Nukpana?” I asked, once I’d finished.
Piaras knew what I meant. Dreams that Nukpana may have planted in his head, along with any impulses—like murder.
“No. I’ve had a couple of nightmares, but I had those all by myself, no help needed.”
“Your guards know about them?”
Piaras
snorted derisively. “Them and every cadet in the barracks.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “But they assure me that I’m screaming like a man, not a girl.”
I cringed inwardly. “That’s always good.” I leaned forward, then stopped myself. It was all I could do not to hug him.
“Hug received,” Piaras whispered.
He’d always blushed before whenever I’d hugged or obviously wanted to hug him. This time he didn’t. That just made me want to hug him more.
“But thanks for not actually doing it in the middle of the gym,” he added quietly.
I had a lump in my throat. “Hey, any one of these men would jump at the chance to have me hug them.”
“Any one of these men doesn’t scream in the middle of the night and wake up half the citadel. Spellsinger pipes are loud.”
“Vegard says you’re restricted to the citadel for the duration.” I didn’t need to say for the duration of what; Piaras knew. When Sarad Nukpana was dead for good, Piaras could set foot outside the citadel’s walls.
Piaras scowled. “All my classes are here right now. Paladin Eiliesor has asked my two other professors to come to the citadel, so I’m getting private tutoring.”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“Would you be? Locked up here like a . . .” He fumbled for the word that expressed every bit of the frustration and anger he was obviously feeling. “Like a child. And worst of all, every cadet in the barracks knows why—the paladin doesn’t think I can defend myself.”
I could see what had happened as if I’d been there. “I take it the other cadets have been giving you a hard time.”
Piaras’s silence answered my question better than any words.
“I just want to do something,” Piaras blurted. “And that the paladin doesn’t think I’m good enough to—”
“Stop right there. Mychael doesn’t doubt your ability and neither do I. And if any cadets say that you being in the citadel makes you incompetent or a coward, that’s not teasing; that’s jealousy, pure and simple. What you did in that cave under the elven embassy saved every last one of us. That’s public knowledge now. And I don’t know how much more public you could have been when you summoned three rampaging bukas out of thin air to take down those embassy guards who were trying to kill you. And just three weeks ago, you fought at the archmagus’s side and killed I don’t know how many demons.” I stopped, thought, and surmised the source of the problem.
“Those other cadets wouldn’t happen to be highborn elves, would they?”
Piaras hesitated before replying. “Yes.”
That was it, then, or at least a big part of it. Piaras’s parents were merchants in Laerin, and they’d done well for themselves. No blue blood, just good, solid business sense and a lot of hard work. No doubt Piaras’s background would be looked down on by the young, snobby, rich aristocrats. Piaras had worked for everything he had; those elf cadets just had to be born. I didn’t have to tell Piaras any of this; he’d experienced it firsthand over the years.
“Then I know it’s jealousy,” I told him. “One, they’re nowhere near as magically gifted as you. Two, they’d probably crap their uniforms if a demon came running at them. Three, and this is what really gets their collective goat, you’re going to make knight before any of them. Some may not even make it to squire and they know it.” I sighed. “Piaras, Mychael isn’t keeping you here because he questions your competence. He’s keeping you here because he recognizes your potential . Yes, you’re eighteen; and yes, that makes you a man. But you’re also a cadet under the command of a paladin who wants to make sure that you live long enough to grow up to realize that potential. And if it makes you feel any better, even Mychael is having a tough time with this one. Every time he turns around, more bad guys have crawled out of the woodwork. He wants you safe and so do I.”
Piaras scowled. “But you’re not safe and neither is the paladin. You’re both facing all the danger, and I can’t make a move without those two.” He jerked his head back at the big Guardians trying to loom unobtrusively. “If they were any closer, they’d be in my boots with me.”
That image earned him a smile. Everything I’d been through, Piaras had been right there with me. That neither one of us had any white hairs to show for it was a miracle.
“You’re here learning to face danger,” I told him. “Mychael and I want you to get a little more experience under your belt before you have to fight off death five times a day, which seems to be becoming the story of my life.” I kept my voice steady, but it wasn’t easy. “Promise me you won’t try to lose your guards. They’re shadowing you for your own good.” I lowered my voice further. “Mychael’s had one traitor among his men, and it’s been my experience that traitors at least come in pairs.”
Piaras knew that only too well; that traitor had tried to kill him—and under Sarad Nukpana’s influence, Piaras had nearly killed that traitor.
“I promise,” he said.
“Thank you. That’ll give me one less thing to worry about.”
“And I’m watching my own back, too.”
“Good. Don’t stop there. Watch your sides and your front, and your head and those big feet of yours while you’re at it. Right now, there’s no way you can be too careful. As paladin, Mychael is your commander. That means you take your orders from him. And if he orders you to stay put, you stay put. Got it?”
Piaras grinned slowly. “I’ve got it, but obviously you don’t.”
“What?”
“From what I hear, he ordered you to stay in your room, and here you are.”
I gave him a big smile. “I got news for you kid. Mychael ain’t my commander.”
Vegard and I were leaving the gym when I saw Dad standing in the doorway watching me. Beside him stood a complete surprise and I wasn’t sure it was a good one.
Nachtmagus Vidor Kalta.
They made no move to come in, so Vegard and I crossed over to them.
“Arlyn, Nachtmagus Kalta,” I greeted them. Kalta knew my dad’s soul was living in Arlyn Ravide’s body, but every other Guardian in the gym thought Arlyn was just a young knight. They weren’t going to find out any different from me.
“We were told that we would find you here, Miss Benares,” Dad said. “Nachtmagus Kalta needed to speak with you.”
I felt his unease. Dad and I didn’t have a bond, at least not of the magical variety, but I guess sometimes a father and daughter can know what the other’s thinking, no words needed.
Dad didn’t want to be here. But I was here, so he came regardless of his fear.
Fear. That was what I felt from him.
I knew why.
He had died here.
Arlyn Ravide, the young Guardian in whose body my dad’s soul lived, had died at the hands of the demon queen only a few yards from where we were standing, the Scythe of Nen plunged through his heart. She’d wet the blade with his sacrificial blood, then stabbed the Saghred with equal ease. My dad’s soul had escaped the Saghred and occupied Arlyn Ravide’s lifeless body.
“Let’s go out into the hall,” I suggested.
Dad nodded once, wordlessly.
“Do you remember any of it?” I asked him quietly. He knew what I was talking about.
“Flashes of memory, nothing more.”
He was lying. But considering he had bled and died in the room we’d just left, he deserved a little lie. Hell, he deserved all the lies he wanted to tell.
“Vegard, is there anywhere around here that’s private?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said solemnly. “Follow me.”
Vegard led the way, Vidor Kalta and I followed, and my dad, as Arlyn Ravide, brought up the rear as a young Guardian should in the presence of a high-ranking guest and a superior officer. That would be Kalta and Vegard. I had no clue where I fell on the Guardian scale of military etiquette.
Kalta broke the uncomfortable silence, bless him. “Sir Arlyn and I were on our way out into the city, and we wanted to see how y
ou were doing.”
“Very well,” I replied. “No thanks to my own foolishness.”
“Bravery, Mistress Benares,” Kalta corrected me. “Attacking in the face of certain death to save others is bravery.”
Or stupid, if your dad was a super mage and didn’t need your help. But I didn’t need to say that out loud; Kalta knew. He was just making conversation for anyone who might hear.
Vegard led us down a side hallway, opened a door, and stepped aside for the three of us to enter. He followed and closed the door.
“No one can hear us in here,” he told me. “You may speak freely.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain?”
“Positive.”
I glanced at Dad, then spoke to Vidor Kalta. “Mychael said that you and he spoke and that you understand the need for discretion.”
Kalta flashed a quick smile. “I’ve always been discreet, even in the face of the most cryptic of comments.”
Dad chuckled. “Raine wants to know if you’re going to expose me for who I am, but she doesn’t want to come right out and say it. She’s trying to protect me again. Raine, Vidor knew the moment he saw me with those Reapers that I was an old soul.”
“Paladin Eiliesor has explained the situation,” Kalta told me. “It’s my belief that a man’s past, regardless of how extensive, is his own business. I am interested in Sir Arlyn’s specialized knowledge in solving your problem.”
I bit back a snort. “I have so many. Which problem would that be?”
“My intention was to research a way to break your link to the Saghred,” Dad said. “But I believe the continued existence of Sarad Nukpana is a greater danger to you right now.”
I felt a chill of apprehension. I knew where he was going with this, or more to the point, who he was going after.
“No,” I told him.
“No, what?”
“No, you’re not going after him.”
Dad grinned boyishly. “I can hardly go after that which I have not found—a situation I hope to change very soon. Raine, I was here nine hundred years ago. The city is only a century older than me. You said you smelled stale air, damp, and mold.”
