Blood of the Delphi (The Harmatia Cycle Book 2)

by M. E. Vaughan

  “Do we have visitors?” Nora Merle said as they appeared. She was a stout but handsome woman, with greying auburn hair and a soft shape that made her look a little like a brooding hen. She smiled up to the two Magi, as if defying their presence to be anything less than pleasant. “Lords Odin, Zachary, what a pleasant surprise. Can I get you something to eat?” Her accent was Betheanian and very welcoming. It made Zachary feel all the worse. He stepped toward her and extended his hand in greeting.

  “You have a beautiful home,” he said, and she took his hand graciously and shook it.

  “Thank you,” she said, glancing quickly to Torin, who looked grim. “You’re here on official business?”

  “I am afraid so,” Belphegore said heavily. “Nora, Torin, you may wish to sit down. I am afraid we have some bad news for you.”

  Both parents tensed, and Torin came to Nora’s side. Even before anything was said, Torin and Nora knew what had happened. Nora began to shake.

  “Rufus?” was all she asked.

  “The King,” Belphegore struggled with the words, his head bowed. Zachary didn’t want to watch, but he forced himself to.

  “The King placed a bounty on Rufus’s head. The contract was picked up by an assassin in Lemra, who followed your son to Beshuwa…” Belphegore cut off as Torin gave a terrible groan, somewhere between a sob and a choke. “I am sorry,” Belphegore forced out, his words rushed. “But he’s dead. Rufus is dead. I am so sorry.”

  Neither of the Merles made a sound, the pair trapped in their misery. Then Torin turned on his heel and put his head and fists against the wall.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” he whispered over and over. “It can’t be. It can’t.”

  “His body will be sent to Harmatia. I will do what I can to have it returned to you, but…He was a traitor of the realm and will therefore,” Belphegore exhaled, “will therefore probably be put on display.”

  “No!” Torin broke out, banging his fist against the wall. “Not my boy, not my Rufus-lad, please not my boy.”

  Nora didn’t move, her eyes cast unseeingly forward, her body shaking.

  “The announcement will be made later today.” Belphegore continued with the unforgiving truths. “It may stir up old memories and feelings. You should distance yourself awhile. I urge you to take some time away from Harmatia, perhaps go to your family in Bethean. It may not be safe for you here any longer.” He reached toward Nora, as if to comfort her, then thought better of it, retracting his hand. “I am truly sorry for your loss.” He turned sharply and swept from the kitchen. Zachary followed him, stopping at the end of the corridor in time to look back and see Torin collapse onto his knees, sobbing hopelessly. Nora rose and gathered her husband to her, as if trying to drown his grief in an embrace. The colours seemed to seep from the house, until it became cold and dark. Zachary, aware he was witnessing something he shouldn’t, left the house as quickly as he could.

  Stepping out into the snow, he managed eight steps before stopping, his whole chest on fire. He froze, unable to breathe, one hand clenched up to his throat as the other grasped for support from the building at his side. Zachary had seen men suffer and die from horrific wounds but there was no greater torture than the loss of a child, and that was more than the Magi had been willing to see.

  Belphegore, realising he was no longer being followed, turned back and strode toward his apprentice. He took Zachary by the arm and pulled him straight.

  “Their grief is not your responsibility,” he said. Zachary inhaled deeply and nodded. Belphegore gave his apprentice a sombre look and with his hand on Zachary’s back, guided him back up the street. No more was said between them.

  Joshua was dreaming, the world curling around him mysteriously. He was in a forest but didn’t recognise the trees surrounding him. They were dark and tall, and covered in bristles. Joshua had never seen trees like that before, outside of books. He reached out to a branch and touched the prickling leaves.

  “Who are you?” a deep, rumbling voice rose from behind him. Joshua turned around.

  There, between the towering trunks, a large man stood barely three strides from him. He was a frightening figure, battle-worn and muscular, with eyes as black as peppercorn. Joshua’s first instinct was that he was a Fomorii—one of a clan of faerie who were, historically, enemies of the Sidhe and, by association, the Delphi. Yet there was a human aspect about him too. He had bold features, dark skin with a slightly cold undertone, and a terrible scar across his throat that led from ear to ear in an ugly grin.

  He watched the Prince with the unblinking patience of a predator. Joshua, despite it all, found that he wasn’t afraid.

  “Who are you?” the Prince asked in turn, and though his face didn’t change, Joshua sensed amusement from the other.

  “Varyn,” the man said. His accent was northern—Kathrak. “You?”

  “My name is Joshua,” Joshua replied slowly. He’d been trained all his life to fear the Kathraks but for some reason he felt at ease with this stranger. As if they’d met before. “Where are we?”

  “This is my dream,” Varyn replied. “You’re not part of it.”

  “No.”

  “Better question then—how are you here?” Varyn tipped his head forward, putting his hands together. His arms were heavily tattooed with intricate rings and symbols. Joshua eyed them.

  “I’m not sure.” He sat down. “We must be linked somehow.”

  “Hm.” Varyn came forward and sat silently opposite the boy.

  “Are you…a Fomorii?”

  Varyn raised his thick eyebrows.

  “Your eyes…” Joshua went on.

  Varyn’s eyebrows rose even higher and his mouth twitched at once side. He huffed and Joshua got the impression he was amused. “Black eyes are common among the Isny.”

  “You’re an Isny?” Joshua felt a wave of relief pass over him. Isnydea was a county in Kathra, in the far north. “So you’re human?”

  “Didn’t say that,” Varyn rumbled. He was still watching Joshua unblinkingly.

  “Then you are a Fomorii?”

  “Didn’t say that either.”

  “Then are you an enemy of mine?” Joshua swallowed.

  “Depends.” Varyn pulled a knife from his belt. “You something I’d hunt?”

  “I’m just a boy.”

  “Doubt that.” Varyn’s black eyes gleamed like polished onyx. “Normal boys don’t cross into people’s dreams.”

  “I suppose not,” Joshua agreed. His gaze darted down to the tattoos on Varyn’s arms again—he’d never seen anything like them before. Varyn caught him looking, and extended both arms, to show the full design. “These are common on Isnys too.”

  “What do they mean?”

  “This is rank.” Varyn pointed to a circle with three lines through it on his forearm. “These show who I’ve defeated. This—my faction. Who I belonged to. Where to return me…” He trailed off, and Joshua finally understood.

  “You’re a slave?”

  “Was. Free now.” Varyn pointed to the last mark on his right arm, a simple cross. “And you, boy? What are you?”

  Before Joshua could reply, a shriek from the air cut over them and he jumped up. Varyn didn’t move.

  “What is that?” Joshua looked up in time to see something humungous whip through the air above the tree line. It moved so quickly, it was difficult to see. Whatever it was, it was large, black and scaly, with bat-like wings and long tail.

  “Dragon,” Varyn replied calmly.

  “It’s…It’s huge,” Joshua gasped, as the dragon roared, making the earth tremble. “What’s it doing here?”

  “Looking for me,” Varyn said, and he suddenly seemed to be deep in thought. “You need to go. It’s not safe.”

  “What about you?”

  Varyn paused and flashed a grin that was more terrifying than the dragon itself. He gave the boy no other response and Joshua found himself falling from Varyn’s dream, back into his own.

  They’d w
alked a few miles before exhaustion felled them both. The snow had gathered around them in a suffocating hold, and Rufus used the last of his strength to build them a rudimentary shelter with magic. Then they’d huddled within it and waited until the storm passed. Sometime in the night both tumbled into uncomfortable sleep.

  When Rufus woke next, it was to the stark reflection of the sun on the snow. He was so cold he couldn’t feel anything of his body. The fire he’d built had long since burned out, unable to suffer the snow any longer. The harrowing wind had stopped and Rufus lay still, his mind an exhausted mess of muted thoughts. Even so, knew if he and Joshua didn’t move soon, the pair of them would to die of exposure.

  He forced himself to roll, shaking Joshua, who was clutched at his side. Joshua was pale, his breathing laboured. He needed warmth and shelter soon, or he would slip into a permanent sleep.

  “Joshua,” Rufus called faintly, his voice hoarse. “Joshua, wake up. Come on.” He shook him more forcefully and the boy gave a groan, his eyes fluttering open. His lips were chapped, and he gave a small whine. “We need to get up. We need to go,” Rufus said.

  Joshua’s eyes fell closed.

  “Don’t go back to sleep. We’ll freeze. Joshua—” Rufus cut himself off as from outside he heard a branch crack.

  No, he thought. No, not again. Not now. Please.

  He put a hand to his mouth, trying to hush the sound of his breath. In the snow, their shelter would be disguised, but Rufus couldn’t afford to trust in that chance. He gritted his teeth and forced himself up, crawling to the entrance. Joshua opened his eyes.

  “R’fus?” he murmured fearfully.

  “Stay quiet,” Rufus said, almost falling as his vision swirled. He couldn’t get into a fight—he would be dead before he had a chance to summon any magic to him. His strength was fading fast but Rufus had to protect Joshua.

  He crawled out of their hiding place and forced himself to his feet. The wintery world was stark and seamless, covered in an even layer of snow, so undisturbed and perfect it might have been a dream. Rufus squinted against the harsh light, falling against the shelter as he stood.

  He blinked the black spots from his vision, stepping out into the thick snow. To the far right, he could see the tree branch that had been disturbed, a fresh pile of snow gathered below it, where it had been knocked off. Rufus dared to hope that perhaps the weight of the snow had caused the branch to bend and drop its load. He stepped out further, the wet seeping into his trousers and creeping up. The world was immaculate and deathly still all around him. He breathed out, relieved

  Then something moved in his peripheral. He turned so quickly he almost collapsed back into the snow.

  Stood among the trees, a vast creature was watching him. Three strides tall, with an impossible wingspan and fur as black as coal, the beast towered over Rufus, vibrant green eyes trained on his face. Rufus glanced down to the white patch of fur on the faerie’s breast, bright like a star on a lonely night. He didn’t dare speak, frozen by the sight of her. She gave a soft laugh.

  “I heard there was a drunkard running around in the forest singing dirty songs for the feeorin. I thought I would come check it wasn’t you.” She stepped forward, her paws crunching in the snow. “So tell me, lowly lord, are you out here for the sport?” She flashed her teeth in something close to a grin. “Or have you simply gotten lost again?”

  He couldn’t believe it. For a minute he feared he might have gone snow-blind or was hallucinating, but the texture of the fur and the rumble of her laugh were too real. He stood, gaping, as with a burst of black mist the large cat form was replaced by that of a young woman. She smiled gently at him and Rufus ploughed through the snow towards her. His eyes darted over her face in hesitant awe.

  “Fae?”

  She tilted her head, the light catching the small line of star-like markings that framed her eyes.

  “I have been looking for you for three days. You’re not an easy person to find, Rufus Merle.” Her voice was warm and mellow, just as he remembered it.

  Rufus dropped to his knees and seized her hands, turning them so that he could see the crescent shaped birthmark on her wrist. He kissed it fervently, her familiar smell washing over him, and he broke down into tears. He hadn’t realised how heavy the pressure and misery within him were until the dam broke. Suddenly he could barely breathe for his sobs. Fae dropped down, clasping his chin worriedly, her eyes scanning him for injuries.

  “Rufus?” she asked. “Rufus, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s you,” he gasped.

  “Titania man, you’re freezing.” Fae frowned, putting her hands on his cheeks. “Are you hurt?”

  Rufus shook his head weakly, still sobbing. He couldn’t express his relief—his cries feeble and long, like a lost child. He covered her hands with his own, gripping them as tightly as he dared, lest she disappear.

  “Easy, Rufus, breathe easy. I have you now.” She looked up as a small voice interrupted them.

  “Papa?” Joshua asked cautiously, stood in the mouth of their shelter.

  Fae’s eyes widened as she took in the boy, who stared openly back at her.

  “You’re her,” Joshua identified. “You’re Fae.”

  “Yes, I am.” Fae released Rufus and moved toward the boy, her footfall so light, she barely sank into the snow. “And you must be the Delphi Prince.”

  “You know about me?” Joshua slurred, as if he were still dreaming.

  “Yes,” Fae said lightly, reaching him and squatting down to his height. “My friend Luca told me all about you.” She touched his cheek, her expression darkening with concern. “Have no fear of me, Joshua,” she said sweetly. Joshua gave a sound of relief and fell forward into her. Fae didn’t expect it but took his weight regardless, wrapping her arms around his thin body. She looked back at Rufus who watched, still tearful.

  “His breathing is laboured,” she noted.

  “He’s ill,” Rufus replied, his voice thick.

  “You both are.” Fae stood, picking Joshua up easily. He was already asleep, head dropped against her shoulder, as she manoeuvred him onto her hip. “You fool, what were you doing out here?”

  “I…” Rufus bowed his head, his voice cracking. “I don’t know. We had nowhere else. The Kathraks, an assassin…We had nowhere to go. We just ran.”

  “Straight into a faerie wood? Without any idea of where you were going? You could have stumbled into Unseelie territory! Or been caught in another faerie trap! Rufus, how could you be so stupid?”

  “I had nowhere else!” Rufus cried. The next second the world around him ebbed to black and he tumbled forward. Sharp spots of white filled his vision and he blinked away the familiar, sticky nausea that clung to his head. He coughed, trying to breathe, aware that Fae was at his side, holding him up with her other arm. Her eyes were filled with panic.

  “You’re not well,” she muttered.

  “Fae,” he moaned. He felt so weak, he thought he might crumble to nothing. His head was heavy against her body but she bore him regardless. “Don’t leave. Please don’t leave us.”

  “I am not going to leave you, you twit,” Fae said coarsely.

  Negotiating Joshua onto her back, she made Rufus lean against him. “Hold onto my shoulders,” she instructed.

  Somehow, he obeyed her and in the next second, they were enveloped in black mist. Rufus felt himself rising up into the air as Fae transformed. It was so sudden, he almost fell from her back, but her wings formed a nest around the pair, securing them. Joshua buried his face into her fur with a faint murmur of approval and Rufus held on tightly. Her back was warm and soft, just as it had been the night she’d carried him away from the Korrigans’ nest. He’d been cold then too. So very, very cold.

  “Where are we going?” he managed to ask, as Fae flexed her wings, preparing to leap up into the air.

  “I am taking you home,” she said. “We’re going to the Neve.”

  “Zachary!”

  The Magi stoppe
d in his tracks and peered wearily around as Sverrin strode toward him down the darkening corridor. Zachary bowed deeply as Sverrin drew closer, his stride hurried to catch up. He looked bright and excited.

  “I missed you at the execution this evening.” Sverrin motioned for Zachary to straighten from his bow. “Were you heading this way?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Good, I will walk with you.” They set off together, Sverrin strangely light on his feet. There was a boyish excitement about him today. “So? Where have you been?”

  “I wasn’t feeling very well this morning,” Zachary said, “and was late to my work as a result.”

  “I trust you feel better now?" Sverrin pulled a sympathetic smile. “You look a little pale.”

  “Much better, thank you.” Zachary relaxed a little. Sverrin seemed in an amicable mood, and that eased the tension between them. “I apologise for missing the executions,” Zachary added.

  Sverrin gave him a puzzled look.

  “There’s no need to apologise.” He knocked Zachary’s arm. “There was no obligation for you to be there. I merely noticed you were not in your usual perch with Lords Hathely and Fold. Mind, Lord Fold wasn’t there either today. I heard he’s taken ill. I hope you haven’t come down with something similar.”

  “No, no,” Zachary dismissed, “I merely drank too much.”

  “Gracious, a hangover? I didn’t even know Magi could get them. You must have drunk you weight in wine. Is something the matter?”

  “Troubles at home,” Zachary replied evenly. “Nothing concerning.”

  “Ah. Your father, is it?” Sverrin asked knowingly and Zachary’s gut tightened. For a moment he’d forgotten how much his King knew of his situation. The pair had once shared every secret.

  “Yes. He’s being difficult.”

  “If there’s anything I can do…” Sverrin offered as they reached the entrance hall. He looked out, deep in thought. “Are you free now?”