The other children echoed the sentiment.
My breath caught. A single tear rolled down my face at their earnestness. I could not let them do this. I made my voice stern. “Do not argue with Mother. You will do as I say … if you love me.”
The boy began to cry and I pulled him against me, offering automatic comfort. As if a dam had burst, the other children pressed in, clinging, reaching past each other just for a touch. I let them throng me for a time, but then gently began to peel them away.
“I must go,” I said. “Be good to each other, and wait here for me.”
“Yes, Mama,” several of them said.
I smiled sadly and turned away.
With my face covered by the silver mask once more, my step turned brisk, my will resolute. A reservoir of love had just been poured into me. I had gained many new reasons to survive the coming battle. I returned to my mount and vaulted into the saddle. I consulted my compass with greater passion, and directed the wolves on a course that skirted the park, leading to the heart of the city where the buildings grew ever higher.
Wearing an adorable little mask of silver, an owl—D’elia I supposed—landed on the horn of my saddle to rest and keep me company. All but in my lap, she studied me with knowing eyes full of mystery, then blinked.
I looked away, into the distance, into my heart. I knew then that I could not give up this masquerade, even after my son was saved. I had come too far, changed too deeply, and there were too many depending on me for hope, protection, and love. Part of me had become detached, lodging in these small, precious children. I had become as rooted as my roses to this city. I remembered Azrael speaking to me on the dock by the lake. He had warned me of this very occurrence. Still, there was little else I could have done getting here.
Beyond the park, we entered unknown territory. I had never made it so far, though I had certainly descended deeper into the city’s bowels. As we traveled, building loomed ever higher. Tension ate my nerve, draining my energy. I wondered if it were the same with the others, or had campaigning become second nature to the elves. Eventually, my body protested the strain of keeping to a saddle.
I Pulled back on the reins and turned in the saddle to face Amberyn. “Let’s take a rest and break out provisions all around. We should reach the Gamesman’s arena on the next stretch of the journey, and I want everyone at their best when we get there.”
“A sound plan,” the elf said. “I was just going to suggest it myself.”
Our column became a cluster. We kept the horses on a brick courtyard so they could do little damage. The wolves lolled in the shelter of nearby trees that were black, tangled, and barren of leaf. They reminded me of a burnt out woods where wildfire has passed. The owls perched in on the coiling limbs, except for D’elia; she assumed human form, staying with me. We went to the supply wagon for a drink of the elves’ wondrous water. D’elia and I both removed our masks.
Doing their best not to seem impressed, the elves looked with disdainful interest at buildings ahead that looked more like canyons than anything else. A few of the taller towers were square monstrosities with many windows that acted as dark mirrors. How such huge structures could have been built was a mystery to me, but fortunately, not a problem I needed to solve.
As I turned from the view, I caught a flicker of darkness. A large shadow-shape leapt from one point to another among the firemares, leaving bales of hay scattered behind. It surprised me to see Azrael making himself useful with so menial a chore, but in retrospect, I saw that he had never displayed scorn for any needed task. He paused to speak at length with the unicorn, while the firemares attacked the bales with hungry fervor, swallowing the burning straw with relish.
My heart lifted a little just having Azrael in sight. I took a few a steps toward him, but stopped as D’elia spoke to me. “You love him deeply.”
It was not really a question, but I answered anyway. “Yes, I do.”
“Have you told him of the darkness you carry—that it might one day require him to destroy you to save your soul?”
I looked at her in helplessness. “How am I supposed to broach such a topic?”
“I could tell him, if you like. There is a chance that the darkness that ate the Dar’kyn magic might resurface in your battle against the Gamesman. If that happens, our own forces and this whole city might be lost. Plans should be made for such an eventuality.”
“I have a plan,” I admitted. “You can see the shadow of death on the faces of those nearing their end. If you see that I have lost all control, and that everyone’s death is but a moment away, I depend on you to end my threat.” I looked meaningfully at the dagger in her belt. “Do swiftly what you must, and you will have my eternal gratitude.”
“And Azrael’s eternal enmity.”
“No.” I reached into my pouch and retrieved a sealed letter previously prepared for me by Amberyn. “Give this to Azrael. It will explain the necessity I have forced upon you. There are also words that come from my deepest heart, things I still hope to say once this grim business is concluded.”
She looked at me a long moment, then nodded and took the letter. “Just like you, I will do what I must. I ask only one thing in return.”
“Yes?”
“Before you kill him, ask the Gamesman what he has done with my son.”
Silver Wolf! Yes, he was still unaccounted for. D’elia had to be frantically concerned for his spirit though her calm did not break. I nodded agreement to seal our pact.
Amberyn came over with nut-bread and cheese for us. I ate quickly, but savored the flavor, watching as Amberyn pointed to the towers.
“Do you notice,” he said, “that there is a vacancy there, as if the towers were looking down on something much lower, that we cannot see from here?”
“The arena?”
“I think so.” He shifted his glance to me. “It’s on the course you’ve set. Another hour or so, and we will know for certain, unless resistance in the streets ahead delay us.”
“Is that likely, given the easy time we’ve had?” D’elia asked.
Amberyn shrugged. “Probably not. The Gamesman wants us fresh in the arena so he can play to the crowds, and bask in their adulation.”
I growled low in my throat, delaying a bite of food to make a comment. “We will not disappoint him.”
I noticed that Faang and Kodiac had drawn aside for conversation. Though in a hurry to press on, I could not interrupt what might be their last private moment. I could afford them enough time to deal with the shadow of death that must soon part them.
My glance shifted to the elves. They were clustered together, watching Red-Blade affix my banner to a pike. I frowned as he beamed cheerful defiance back at me. I went over to speak to him, but he held up a hand to forestall me. “We have encountered no resistance so far, and the banner is attached to a weapon so I shall not be unarmed if trouble meets us short of our goal. You really have no cause for complaint.”
“You could have asked me.” I protested, but knew the weakness of my argument as I made it.
“I promise you,” he said, “the next time I ride forth to kill the Gamesman and rescue an elf princess, I will consult you on all matters, no matter how trivial.” His grin remained in place, daring me to find another objection to what he wanted to do.
Rather than perpetuate my foolishness, I gave in with a small measure of grace. “Very well, do as you please.”
He stared at me with a great show of surprise. “But, I always do!”
I noticed Amberyn drawing everyone together, preparing the column to move. The elves donned silver masks of their own enchanting, and sought their mounts once more. I settled my own mask in place and went to my firemare. She waited with patience as I checked the cinch one last time, and swung up into the saddle. For an untamed creature, she tolerated my management of her very well. I patted her neck, leaned forward, and murmured words of gratitude and praise.
She whickered a reply and danced a little, more than ready to run.
“We can’t race the winds just yet,” I told her. “We need to save our strength for battle, and keep the column together, so we do not invite misfortune to stragglers.”
Her thought streaked through my head, but I caught enough of it to know she complained of the cold, wanting to run to warm herself.
“It will not be much longer until we engage our foe and destroy him. Then you can go at once to your burning world with my deepest gratitude if you must.”
Amberyn drew up beside me and Red-Blade took the opposite flank. Braced by the two warriors, I lifted my hand and gave the signal to continue. The owls went ahead, and the wolves ran under them like silvery-gray shadows, fluid and lethal. The firemares followed and the great bears brought up the end of the column, guarding our backs.
I knew that the struggle for Phillippe’s soul would continue after I sent the Gamesman to his father’s court, but I decided to focus on one battle at a time. I would deal with Death when I met him, one way or another.
I became suddenly aware of a sweet fragrance from the rose I wore. The soft petals shone with an inner light that I took to be a promise of favor from angelic hosts. As we rode, I dared confess my sins directly to God since I had no priest to give absolution. And, since Heaven usually blesses the strongest, swiftest sword, I prayed to fill that role for the sake of those I led, and the soul I hoped to save.
The windows opened in the buildings along the road. Pale faces stared down in silence. Owls voiced a cautious note. I was prepared to kick my mount into a gallop, but there was no need. The brave souls inhabiting this part of the city had procured white rose petals. Released, they drifted like snow across my path. The display was more appropriate to a wedding, but I loved the gentle encouragement of petal-fall, the silent support.
All too soon, it was over. The flowers were trampled under burning hooves, but the gesture remained in my heart, never to be forgotten.
Windows were slammed shut and curtains drawn, as if the eyes of the buildings could not bear what was coming. The structures grew ever taller as we traveled the unvaried green twilight. Abstractly, I knew that time had to be passing, but without a pocket watch, I had no way to measure it. Sustained by the Elven rations, our journey might have lasted days, but I knew that could not be so. I could not have lost track of things so quickly.
We reached a wide open area where a circle of the highest towers touched the edge of the arena, a great circular structure. We skirted the base of the closest tower, noting that it held the central building a few inches off the ground in teeth attached to a vertical track—as though the towers were meant to raise and lower the arena with hidden mechanisms. If so, such motion was now impossible, for I saw my white roses clogging the tracks. Were I not here to fight for my son, I would have been more impressed with the engineering marvel. As it was, I simmered in impatience.
My mount stopped as wing-flutters filled the air. D’elia dropped beside me. Her owl’s body shimmered, dissolving, and the rain of light solidified into human form. “Here is our destination,” she said. “Be ready for anything.”
“We have come to teach this villain a new game!” I said. “Let us not keep him waiting.”
Azrael put on substance, rising from long shadows cast by firemares’ light. With all our forces accounted for, I nudged my mount forward, drawing my rapier. We passed a great arch that served as an entrance. Spotting a stirring shadow, I jerked roughly on my reins. My mount danced, protesting with a whinny. I was more concerned about the red eyes burning at me up ahead. A loud growling filled the air, but it did not come from my wolves.
A beast the size of two horses abreast advanced on us. I knew the monster from ancient myth—Cerberus, the three headed dog said to guard the gates to hell. I never expected to see him here, though the city was no garden of earthly delights. The growling died away and the three-headed beast spoke with a chorus of child-like voices, but the words were the Gamesman’s.
“You must prove yourselves worthy to enter,” he said. “And be warned, the only games played here are my own.”
Azrael nodded. “Very well, I will tame your hound.”
But Fenris charged in with a snarl, flashing white teeth, going for the three-headed dog with enthusiastic haste. The rest of the wolves went in with more caution, dodging almost lazily out of the way of chomping jaws and clawing paws. Cerberus and Fenris whirled around one another in close quarters. The dog’s right head snapped jaws shut on air the wolf leader swerved at the last moment.
Unrelenting, the beasts whirled through several tight circles, with the pack in a jumbled orbit, snapping at Cerberus’ heels and flanks, seeking an advantage as our archers held fire, afraid of wounding an ally. The other dog heads ripped at the wolf‘s throat. One such attack missed the mark, but opened a bloody gash in Fenris’ shoulder. Out massed in size, but not spirit, the wolf rolled away but recovered, throwing himself back into the fray. One of the pack members managed to snag a rear left leg. The bones crunched into paste.
Cerberus scrambled to escape, unable to use the broken leg for support. Its menacing sounds were swallowed in pain after that.
I caught a motion from the corner of my eye as the elves relaxed their bows.
Fenris went for a front leg. His jaws closed, then came away. Splinters of bone protruded from the dog’s damaged ankle. Tendons were severed. Paws dragged. The wolves found more frequent openings. One of them leaped unto Cerberus’ back, only to be shaken off. Two of the dog’s three heads drooped with throats torn out, spraying a haze of crimson. A moment later, Cerberus was down with the wolves on top of him, finishing the job with furious snarls.
I think the Gamesman found little joy in his choice of gatekeeper.
The silence of death set in until Fenris threw back his bloodied snout and howled his triumph.
I looked down the passageway that led into the arena, not wanting to peer too closely at what was left of Cerberus. He had been a simple beast used by the Gamesman. I would not be so squeamish where the soul-stealer was concerned. I wanted to see him destroyed.
Wolves and owls went first, then Faang lumbered in, a twin to the great bear beside him. I let them get well ahead of me and then urged my mount on. With elves riding around me in the enclosed space of a tunnel, the heat of the firemares blackened the paint on the walls, putting smoke in the air. I coughed and covered my nose and mouth with a palm. My eyes stung, tearing up.
I was grateful to reach the inner arena, emerging between raised seating packed with thronging crowds. A round field covered in white sand lay before us. The wolves were there, hackles raised in bristling threat.
Ranked in opposition was a familiar collection of warriors, other players of The Game. The Black-Heart Knight dwarfed those he stood among. I scanned the many faces, but did not find Silver Wolf, or the Red Dragon for that matter. The absence of the shape-shifter caused my heart to ache for D’elia and Faang.
The owls soared higher, finding perches. I knew they would time their intervention for the wisest moment. Their motion drew my attention to the Gamesman. He lounged on an oversized gold throne, playing emperor in a private box, but I was not fighting for his amusement. I would not honor his attempt to orchestrate this occasion.
I awaited no command, but thrust my sword forward and screamed encouragement to my mount. She exploded into motion, glad to bring her full speed into play at last. The thunder of hooves told me that the rest of my cavalry were close behind. Ahead, the wolves cleared, giving us an open corridor. We trampled enemy players underfoot and raised a clatter with slashing blades, as steeple bells pealed in full-throated frenzy all across the city.
17. THE KILLING FIELD
Screams rent the air. The surcoats of the armored men ignited as the firemares charged by. Those without iron’s protection were transformed into screaming torches. The rest would be baked in their armor soon enough. Some of the men rolled in the sand to extinguish their clothes. Another ripped and flung his flame-wreathed rags from his b
ody, only to catch an arrow in the throat. More silver-tipped arrows pierced enemy warriors that tried to abandon the field, thunking deep into flesh. Those not killed outright shrieked and flopped until dying—often helped along by the flesh-rending, bone-chomping jaws of a wolf.
It was not a sight I wanted to see, but Phillippe’s need steeled my nerve and kept me grimly to task. I wheeled my mount for another charge, and I saw Kodiak closing in on the Black-Heart Knight—giant against giant. The bear used a massive paw to send the warrior’s shield spinning away like a child’s kite. The knight went to a two-fisted grip on his sword, standing his ground with monumental confidence.
Was this duel meant to end Kodiak’s life? I hastily dropped that train of thought, as an enemy flung a two-sided axe at me. Not wanting to damage my rapier with a block, I hugged my firemare, hanging on her side to avoid injury. My legs lost their grip on the saddle as the axe passed over me. I dropped into a crouch. A scream caught my attention. The thrown axe had caught Ty’hrall in the neck. Crimson splattered his white coat and the bleached sand as the unicorn collapsed.
God, no!
Amberyn fell clear and rolled to his feet. He cursed furiously, as he scrambled over to the unicorn, and yanked the axe out. A fresh fountain of blood gushed, reddening the elf’s hands. He ripped off his shirt and used it to apply pressure, staunching the bleeding. Tears streamed from his eyes.
I choked on grief, staring through tears of my own, as arrows picked off a warrior closing on me. I locked my pain away for later, for the battle was far from over. My mount had continued on without me, so I was alone as I spun back to confront the advancing knave who had thrown the axe.
He had a sword ready, and watched me hungrily, bloodlust in his eyes.
I drew my dagger so I held a weapon in each hand.
He charged.
There was only time for instinct and reflexes. My sword caught his blade while we circled left. I brought the knobs at the base of my dagger’s blade across my opponent’s short sword, striking sharply near the hilt. My opponent’s firm grip, resisting my force, actually worked in my favor—I was not disappointed. He stared at the six inches of steel that remained to him, then moved closer, intent on stabbing me with what remained, as I surged toward him. My dagger caught his thrust and carried his stub of a blade off to the side, while I plunged my rapier straight into his wicked heart.
The Farthest Gate (The White Rose Book 1) Page 24
