Silverlight

by Jesberger, S. L.

  “At least we didn’t kill you.”

  “You say that as though there’s a difference. Did you truly think selling me to Garai was the more compassionate option?”

  I put a hand on Kymber’s shoulder, hoping to settle her.

  “We talked about having you killed, but we knew Magnus wouldn’t rest until he found those responsible. Then we discussed having you kidnapped, but the conversation was nearly the same. Magnus would look for you, find you, and that would never do. Then we discussed having both of you killed, but too many eyebrows would have been raised.” Portis smiled a ghastly smile. “The battle at Marilian was a ruse. A setup. Tariq and Garai had arranged to take you by that time, but we knew we had to get Magnus out of the picture before we could put the rest of the plan into play. Garai arranged to have a battalion of mercenaries from Pentorus descend on Marilian, knowing T’hath would respond with warriors. Garai agreed we’d be allowed to turn their flank on the left side. Tariq would then send Magnus to the right flank, so there would be no witnesses when he disabled you and delivered you into Garai’s hands. ”

  “What were you going to do if it didn’t work?” she asked.

  “Keep trying until it did, of course. But it worked beautifully the first time. Garai made sure the mercenaries on his right flank fought a little harder, to keep Magnus engaged until you were safely on your way to Pentorus.”

  Kymber opened and closed her mouth several times before she spoke. “Good men died on that field. Innocent men.”

  “Of course. All part of the plan. The gravediggers were fast and efficient, which is what we’d hoped for. Magnus had to believe you were dead and buried so he wouldn’t search for you. Once the grave was covered over, Tariq wounded himself and crawled toward it, smearing blood along the ground. When Magnus showed up later, Tariq fed him a bellyful of lies. Poor Magnus. He was grief-stricken and persistent, demanding that you be dug up and retrieved.”

  I shook with fury. I remembered that conversation with my brother as though it had happened yesterday. I spoke up to fill in the blanks: “Tariq said we couldn’t disturb the grave. That it would be disrespectful to those buried with her. He said there were hundreds of bodies in the grave, that she was on the bottom, and we’d never get to her. I slept on that grave for weeks, wishing I’d been thrown in with her. Damn you both for the lying, deceitful bastards you are.”

  Portis pressed a hand to his chest and smiled. “You wound me, Magnus.”

  “You should be wounded.” Kymber was pale, shaking as much as I was. “What did you tell Mother and Father?”

  “The same thing Tariq told Magnus. It was a good story.” Portis stiffened. “I won’t allow you to see them, Kymber.”

  “Liar. I can’t see them because they’re dead.”

  “Oh? And how would you know that?”

  “I came here after I escaped from Garai. I hid in the cemetery and watched you and Tariq shake hands.”

  Portis did not appear ashamed to have been caught in a lie. “He said you’d escaped. I told him I hadn’t seen you, but I’d kill you if I did. I would’ve done it without a second thought. Everyone thought you were dead anyway.”

  “Were you always this heartless, or did I just miss it?” she asked.

  “You just missed it. I always hated you.”

  Her sword hand twitched. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “I thought Kymber Oryx didn’t make mistakes.”

  Portis was bold and foolish and staring into Death’s eyes. If Kymber didn’t kill him, I would.

  “I trust you won’t be too disturbed to learn that Tariq is dead. I killed him in Adamar,” Kymber said quietly.

  “One less mercenary in Calari.” Her brother shrugged. “I cared even less about Tariq and Magnus Tyrix than I did about you.”

  Kymber’s hand tightened around her sword. Portis noticed. “So you are going to kill me in front of my daughter.”

  “Daxal has obviously fallen hard into his cups. Where is Juncor?”

  “Bedridden upstairs. He had a seizure several years ago and hasn’t spoken since.”

  “And without the other two-thirds of your brain available to think for you, you allowed this place to slide into ruin. Am I right?”

  “Still so arrogant. I truly thought Garai would fuck it out of you, but I guess not.” Portis’s eyes glittered with malice.

  Oh, gods. Fighting words, if ever I’d heard them. I expected Kymber to kill him right then and there, but she didn’t move. I dropped my gaze to Portis’s daughter, but she stared back with a blank expression, apparently used to such language from her father.

  Several tense moments passed in silence. Kymber finally sighed and squared her shoulders. “I won’t kill you today, Portis. I want to, but I have more important things to do. Know this – I’m coming back. I’ll have a knife at your throat when you least expect it, and I will show you the same mercy you showed me. In the meantime, I condemn you to the knowledge that you are a failure, both as a businessman and a human being.” She looked at the girl by his side. “I feel sorry for your children.”

  Kymber sheathed her sword, whirled on her heels, and stormed out the door.

  I was right behind her.

  41: KYMBER

  We left T’hath and headed west for a bit then turned northward. Neither Magnus nor I had much to say. He was thinking about his brother. I was thinking about mine. Somehow, between leaving the academy and my onset of daydreaming, we’d allowed a barrier to grow between us.

  I thought I understood. The need to place blame is strong. Neither of us knew what to do with the anger we felt, so we were tempted to aim it at each other.

  I didn’t like it.

  I wondered if you could ever truly trust someone. I’d heard stories of women killed by husbands they loved simply to make room for a new wife. Were there no signs? No warnings? It was so hard to believe you could live with a person for years and years and never see the feral violence lurking just below the surface.

  If nothing else, I’d learned an inescapable truth: we all carried darkness inside us. Some of us harbored monsters.

  My darkness was darker than most. I could never give voice to the thoughts that banged around inside my skull most days, but I had never knowingly harmed an innocent. How could Tariq and Portis do that to their own flesh and blood?

  I was deep into my musings when Lady Grey came to a halt, snorted, and stomped her foot. I grabbed at the reins, but my hands closed on air. “What the . . . ?” I glanced up to see Magnus watching me with amusement, holding the reins to my horse. “How long have you been leading me?”

  “Long enough. You had such a faraway look on your face, I was afraid you’d ride off the ridge.”

  I shifted in the saddle. “I’m sorry. You should’ve kicked me or something.”

  “No. I want you to work through whatever it is you’re working through. Tariq and Portis have dealt you quite a blow. Tear it apart, take a good look at it, then throw it away. You need to have both feet firmly on the ground when we face Garai.” Magnus tossed my reins back to me and dismounted.

  His tone annoyed me, but he was right. I took note of the sun sinking into the horizon. Gods, I’d been deep in thought for most of the day. I’d taken a good look at and discarded quite a few things. An ongoing process, and not an easy one.

  “Are we stopping here?” I asked.

  He led Fitz to a nearby tree and secured him to a low branch. “It’s as good a place as any. The highest ground I’ve seen, surrounded by thick trees. We’ll be able to start a fire without attracting attention.”

  It was high ground, the top of the ridge so sharp and narrow we’d have trouble finding a level spot to bed down. It was slow going through the forest, but we’d wanted to stay hidden if possible.

  I peered over the embankment and saw a narrow trail cut across the side of the mountain. Strange place for a road. There were fresh wagon tracks pressed into the sandy soil. It still saw use, but by whom?
/>   Magnus unbuckled his bow and quiver from the saddle. “I’ll be back with something to eat.”

  “You hope.” I smiled. He must’ve seen something on my face that gave him pause. It took him a moment to return the smile.

  I spanned the distance between us physically with three steps. “Listen to me, we were both dealt a blow by family. That betrayal hurts, and it may take some time to get over, but I don’t like this coldness between us. It feels like we left what we were to each other back at T’hath. It’s as though I don’t know you anymore. Maybe you didn’t notice, but it’s you and me against the world now.”

  “It’s always been you and me against the world, love.” Magnus stared at me for a long moment. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  I fell into his embrace and held on tight. Our brothers had orchestrated our separation, but they’d failed.

  Yes, I wished my abduction had never happened, but all the pain I’d gone through, every scar I bore on my body, was a step forward, toward this man. Everything before this moment was yesterday.

  I was going to do my part to make sure we squeezed every drop of good from tomorrow.

  We roasted a hill hen over the open fire, talked for a bit, and then we made love on the hard ground under the endless sky. It felt like the old days.

  Magnus fell asleep immediately, one arm thrown over my waist, his warm breath light against my neck. I couldn’t seem to calm my mind though. I lay awake, watching the shooting stars caress the sky and keeping one eye on the fire. It had burned down to dull red embers by the time my eyelids began to droop.

  I had settled into a twilight sleep when I first heard them. Voices. Female, and far away. I thought I was dreaming, so I ignored them. Surely, no one else would be on this godsforsaken distant mountain.

  The voices soon grew nearer and louder. A chorus of woeful female voices, mingled with the strident tones of aggravated males. The first notes of panic and despair filtered through my drowsiness.

  I sat up when I heard a man shout, “I’ll kill you!”

  Magnus’s arm slid off me. He sucked air, mumbled, and rolled over. Gods, the man slept like the dead.

  I tipped my head to one side and trained my ears. Not just voices now. Hooves against bare earth, wagon wheels, horses snorting. Whoever was on this mountain with us was on the narrow road just below the ridge.

  “Get back in line, ya filthy bitch, or I’ll cut yer throat right where you stand!”

  I threw off the blanket, snatched Promise from the ground, and strapped the baldric across my back. Crouching, I headed toward the road. Torchlight spilled through the trees. Discordant noises came with it: sobbing, desperate pleas to be returned home. More than a few young females, I thought.

  What was going on down there?

  I crawled on hands and knees through the trees and peered down over the rocks to the road below. Everything in me went silent and cold, as still as death.

  It took me the span of a heartbeat to understand what I saw. Five men, mounted on horses and armed to the teeth, headed up a very sorry parade.

  Behind them trailed a long line of girls. Some of them just children, no more than eight or nine. Many of them grown, some barely into womanhood.

  How did I know?

  All of them were as naked as the day they were born, bound together by their wrists.

  Blood roared in my ears as I fought for air. Slaves. These women would end up on the auction block, sold as slaves to the highest bidder. Sold to men who would beat them, use them, do unspeakable things to them. Some of these poor girls would sink into madness.

  A slow heat began to build inside me. No. Not tonight, not if I had anything to say about it.

  I had to be careful though. A half-dozen mounted men brought up the rear, herding the women forward.

  I smiled as my inner savage screamed inside my skull.

  Imagine that. I fought pretty well on horseback.

  I waited until the last slaver passed, then slipped silently down the bank and onto the road, following twenty paces behind. I stayed hidden in the shadows of the rocky cut, walking as fast as I could without making a sound.

  The men murmured to each other in a strange tongue while they passed a wineskin between them. Probably half drunk, so I wasn’t worried about taking them out.

  No, I was more worried about spooking their horses. The move I’d planned was spooky enough.

  I kept one eye on the bank, searching for a low branch or sapling that had taken a strong hold in the rocks. We had just reached a bend in the road when I struck.

  Running as fast as I could, I hit the bank, boots flat and seeking purchase. I was a bird taking wing, my momentum carrying me forward. More importantly, my right hand opened flawlessly as I reached. My hand closed around the sturdy branch hanging over the trail and held. I pulled my feet up and aimed the toes of my boots at the rump of the nearest horse.

  I let go of the branch, drew my sword, and flew, my eyes fixed on a spot behind the saddle. Promise came around as though she had a life of her own just as I landed behind my first victim.

  I pulled the blade hard across the man’s throat. Blood sprayed outward in an arc, all over the horse, the ground, my arms, my hair. I threw the slaver from the saddle and spurred the horse hard, forcing the animal to surge forward, even as it reared up on its hind legs.

  I held on and jerked the reins to one side, guiding the horse’s solid body across the road, blocking the men from the girls ahead of them.

  The slavers brought their horses to a skidding halt and stared. I must’ve looked a sight with my wild eyes and fierce grin, my hair soaked with the blood of their companion. “That’s right. This mistake will be your last.”

  I dug my heels into the horse’s bellowing flanks and forced it down the center of the road, between the men. My sword lived up to her name as I cut them all down on my first pass through. Not one of them tried to pull a weapon.

  The girls in the rear turned to watch. It didn’t take them long to realize I was there to help. They wailed and cried loudly to mask any noise I made. I appreciated the cover, but they needn’t have worried. The cowardly slavers died without uttering a sound.

  I pressed a bloody finger to my lips, beseeching the girls not to reveal my presence to the other slavers. The darkness could not hide the relief I saw on their faces. An older girl near me nodded and pulled the others aside to let me pass.

  I spun the horse around in a cloud of dust and headed toward the front. None of those bastards knew retribution was coming up fast behind them.

  42: MAGNUS

  The chill night air woke me; I shivered violently. I rolled toward Kymber, only to discover she was not lying beside me.

  “Now what?” I grumbled as I threw off the blanket and got to my feet.

  The chill-inducing sound of sobbing women and terrified horses carried to my ears. Evidently, we weren’t the only ones crazy enough to spend the night clinging to the side of a mountain. What did that mean, exactly?

  An angry male shout cut through the sound of crying females. I strapped Bloodreign to my side and ran toward the cliff and the trail cut beneath it.

  I got there just in time to see Kymber charging down the road on a large and muscular horse, Promise a silver streak in the air, and a long line of bound and naked women stretching out as far as the eye could see ahead of her.

  I blinked then narrowed my eyes, trying to decide what I saw. I finally settled on female slaves and male slavers, the one thing guaranteed to make Kymber’s blood boil.

  And she was already doing something about it.

  I watched several heads part company with their owners. “Gods, woman, if you were going to do this, you might’ve let me know,” I muttered as I untangled Fitz’s reins from the tree. I jumped on his back without benefit of a saddle and spun him toward the head of the line.

  Kymber had the situation well in hand, but there would be more slavers in the lead. If they heard the carnage taking place behind
them, they’d have their swords drawn and ready to engage.

  I’d be there to make sure that didn’t happen.

  43: KYMBER

  I moved to the front as fast as I could, trying to stay next to the road, hidden in shadow. So much harder to do when you’re head and shoulders above everyone else.

  Astonishingly – and bless them for their quick thinking – the line of captive girls proved to be a potent weapon. They moved out of my way when necessary, then formed around the horse’s body as I passed, helping me blend in with my surroundings. At least as much as a woman covered in blood riding a night-black gelding can blend in.

  I didn’t care about surprising them anymore. There were only five slavers left up front. I’d gone up against more men by myself and lived.

  I pressed my knees to the horse’s flanks, steered it away from the rocky cut, and found myself behind a large cart loaded with colored cloth. I glanced down at a thin girl with dark hair, one of the older ones. Perhaps eighteen, nineteen years of age.

  She saw the question in my eyes and nodded at the cart. “Our clothes.”

  Gritting my teeth, I pivoted the horse at a full gallop around the cart, jerking it to an abrupt – and not very graceful – halt almost immediately. “Magnus! What are you doing here?”

  Bodies lay all around him, bleeding into the dirt. He was as bloody as I was. His eyes shone like diamonds, the perfect complement to the mischievous “look what I did” grin he wore. “I thought you might need a hand.”

  I returned the grin. “I didn’t, but I appreciate your efforts. Makes things a little easier for all of us.”

  “I saved one for you.” Magnus nodded at a slaver on the ground, already trussed up like a festival goose. He planted a boot in the middle of the bound man’s back. “You got something to say to the lady, you worthless piece of shit?”