Scorched

by Shauna E. Black

  CHAPTER 5

  Even though I’d been expecting it, the news was still a crushing blow. Especially when I found out Mother was not training troops in the Central Fortress.

  “What do you mean, she’s at Volas Pass?” I could scarcely breathe around a knot growing tighter in my throat. “I thought she was training new recruits?”

  My father buckled the sheath of his short sword around his waist. I had come barging in on him in his chambers the moment I heard the news.

  “It was Prince Cynet’s idea,” he said. “King Talorc thought it was a sound tactic. A handful of scouts would go before the main troop to ensure the way was clear. Your mother led them. By the reports, they were the first to get caught in the ambush.”

  I felt cold inside. Cynet had known all along my mother was going to Volas Pass. If I didn’t think he would destroy me first, I would kill him.

  My father marched his army for nearly twenty-four hours straight. I managed to avoid Cynet by staying in the rearguard. I knew he would be furious with me for saving Bridei’s life, and I didn’t trust myself to keep a cool head around him when he’d sent my mother into a Quahtl ambush.

  I didn’t speak a word to anyone the entire time. I was miserable and physically sick, knowing that I could have warned my father of the ambush. The only thing that kept me from collapsing in anguish was the hope that Mother would get through it. She was the greatest warrior in T’yatha. She would escape, wouldn’t she?

  But our people wouldn’t. Had Cynet finished carving his golem? Who would the demon destroy before Cynet stepped in to “save” T’yatha and take over the throne? Should I tell my father?

  Dera didn’t want a coward serving her, but I felt like the biggest coward of all time. Even now, I quailed at the thought of how Cynet would punish me for disobedience. It was bad enough that I had banished the d’taugh before it could kill Bridei or anyone else. What would he do to me if I openly betrayed his plans?

  In the end, we couldn’t save our people. We drove off the Quahtl army, but not soon enough to prevent the slaughter of nearly everyone in the advance troop. Not soon enough to save my mother.

  I wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear. If I had just warned Father soon enough, my mother would still be alive. I moved through the motions of the mourning ritual with Bridei as though someone else controlled my body. We put on the white robes and braided lavender into our hair. All I could think about were Cynet’s plans and the destruction of T’yatha. I could stop it, though it would mean losing my life. That was no less than I deserved, after abandoning my own people, my own mother, to their fate.

  But when it came down to it, I couldn’t name Cynet after I confessed everything to Bridei. The fear choked my words before I got them out. I thought that maybe Bridei could warn King Talorc without knowing the identity of the traitor. I didn’t count on Bridei’s stubbornness.

  She dragged me into an audience with the king. The last person I wanted to see was the treasonous son of King Talorc standing right behind his shoulder, pretending to be the perfect prince.

  “Bridei,” King Talorc said in his gruff voice as we came barging in. “Alswyn. I see that you are preparing for mourning. Is there something else you require?”

  Bridei’s grip tightened on my arm. She acted nervous, now that she was actually standing in front of the King. “I have information regarding the spy.”

  Cynet’s blue eyes demanded my attention. They seemed to pierce holes in me.

  Bridei continued, “I learned that the spy intends to make another attack on T’yatha.” Her voice sounded small and shriveled.

  “How do you know this?” King Talorc demanded. He leaned forward in the wooden camp chair and placed a meaty hand on the maps spread over the small table beside him.

  Bridei glanced at me. “I’m not permitted to say, Your Highness.”

  I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Cynet. It felt as though I were choking.

  “Can you at least tell me what form the attack will take?”

  The mark of Dera began to burn on my heel. My blood pounded hot through my veins, the magic ripping me from the inside out. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even move.

  King Talorc’s frustration filled his voice and made his words clipped and impatient. “Then how can you expect me to do anything about it? I need more information than that, Bridei. I must know the identity of the spy, at least a rough idea of his or her plans, before I can effectively prevent an attack. Your mother would’ve been more thorough. What do you know about this, Alswyn?” Even the King’s direct question couldn’t pull me away from the promise of pain in Cynet’s eyes.

  “Nothing,” I whispered.

  Bridei began backing away to the exit. “Sorry to disturb you, Your Highness.”

  I almost staggered as Cynet’s magic released me from its hold. He wanted me to leave, to follow Bridei as though nothing had happened. But I didn’t go. I felt words rising in me I could no longer suppress.

  King Talorc shuffled his maps impatiently. “Was there something else, Alswyn?”

  I was so frightened. It seemed as though I would never be safe again. “No, Your Highness.”

  Cynet’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Cynet, please escort your betrothed back to her tent so she can complete her mourning ritual.”

  “Of course, Father.” Cynet came around the table, hand outstretched. I could sense pain radiating from it already. He would not escort me back to my tent. He would kill me. I felt sure of it. I backed away from him.

  “We don’t need an escort,” Bridei said. She was almost to the exit. “Come along, Alswyn.”

  I took another step back. And then I said it, the word I desperately wanted to give them. “Cynet.”

  He feigned misunderstanding. “I’m here.” His voice was meant to be soothing, but I heard the lie in it and wondered that I had never noticed it before. “Let’s get you back to your—”

  “It’s Cynet.”

  Bridei stopped and turned back to me. “What do you mean?”

  My hand shook as I raised my finger and pointed at my betrothed. I would die for this, but at least I would be free from Cynet’s control. “He’s the spy.”

  Cynet wore a puzzled expression like a mask. “She must be confused. Her loss is affecting her mind.”

  That’s when my anger finally surfaced. Anger at him and all he had done to me. Anger at the Quahtl for taking my mother. Anger at myself. He had seduced me with the promise of power, the temptation of magic. Carefully leading me into the worship of Dera, he had acted the part of a lovesick suitor until I was too trapped to escape.

  And I had let him do it.

  Now he thought he had me under his control. He thought he could force me to obey him in every detail. He had a lot to learn about the daughter of Skya.

  “You are the spy!” I growled. “Don’t bother denying it.” I turned to King Talorc, but I could see the disbelief in his expression, the furious reaction to my audacious accusation of his son. I kept speaking anyway, trying to get the words out before Cynet stopped me. “He has crafted a golem, my Lord, with which he intends to—”

  Pain like nothing I had ever known exploded in my right foot. I screamed and fell to the ground. I was engulfed in flames, burning alive.

  I thought I heard Bridei yell. Was she trying to douse the flames? It wouldn’t work. Dera’s magic fueled the fire. It boiled my very blood. It was killing me from the inside out. There was only one way Bridei could save me.

  “Not the flames!” I screamed. “Get Dera’s mark off me!”

  The pain intensified, overwhelming my senses. This was so much worse than my ordeal on the Plains. The pain should have knocked me out cold, but I was still awake. Dera would not let me escape. “Save me! Please!”

  Pain consumed me. It was my whole world. It would never stop, never relent. I was doomed to suffer for eternity, and it was no less than I deserved.

  And then, as quickly as it had come, the pain
was gone. Dera was gone. I felt her flee as though a banshee wailed on her heels. The relief that flooded through me only lasted a moment before I slipped into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER 6

  I lay in the tent I previously shared with Bridei. Her cot had been removed, and I was alone now. It was the only way I could complete the mourning ritual for my mother.

  Midnight was well gone, but I had given up on sleep days ago. Thoughts of my mother clouded my mind and left me aching and empty. I would never hear her favorite sayings again, never face her admonishments on the practice field, or smell the mingling scents of leather and sweat when she hugged me. I felt lost and alone, like a small child.

  Wooden figures dangling on the arched bed frame radiated Ragnell’s magic to ease the pain of my injuries, but they couldn’t touch the torment inside.

  I looked down at the wool blanket covering my body. The lump of my left foot rose at the end of the bed, making a hill against the valley where my right foot should have been. I thought I could still feel that foot. I could even sense movement when I tried to wiggle my toes, but nothing was there. Just like my mother, my right leg below the knee was gone.

  The mark of Dera was gone.

  That fact was the only thing that brought me comfort. I no longer had magic. Dera couldn’t defile me anymore. Cynet couldn’t control me. I was safe, for now.

  But I had yet to face the wrath of King Talorc. Since waking, I had requested an audience with him over and over, but it was always refused. He believed I was lying about Cynet. He had sent for a challenger to wring a confession from me before my formal trial. I shuddered. The challenger would be here in the morning.

  A voice outside the tent startled me.

  “I’m sorry, my lord, but Lady Alswyn is still in mourning. I’m to admit no one but the physician.” That was Fyn’s voice. He had offered to guard my tent when Bridei asked for volunteers. I was glad the d’taugh hadn’t killed him.

  “Her time of mourning ends at dawn.” I stiffened, sucking in a sharp breath. It was Cynet. What was he doing here? Shivers of fear washed through me. “I’m her betrothed. I must see her.”

  I heard the rattle of weapons being unsheathed. “I’m sorry, my lord,” Fyn repeated. “I cannot go against—”

  I waited breathlessly for the sound of a body falling. I pictured Cynet stabbing Fyn unawares. But Cynet must have decided to use a different tactic.

  “Of course, my lord,” Fyn’s voice continued after a moment. His tone sounded forced. “I cannot deny the crown prince anything. Especially when he simply wants to visit with his betrothed.”

  The tent flap rustled. My body went taught as a bow string. I tried to sit up. My hand slipped, and I fell back down. I was so weak. Still, as soon as I saw Cynet, I pushed myself back against the headboard with my good foot.

  He gave me a disarming smile. “You look worried, my love.” I felt like a rabbit being stalked by a snow cat. “But you needn’t be. I set wards around the tent. No one will disturb us.”

  “What do you want?” It was a stupid question. I knew perfectly well what he wanted. Had I believed I was safe? I was an idiot.

  His smile deepened. “You’re my future bride, Alswyn. I’ve come to give you my wedding gift.”

  I winced as I tried to push myself further away with a foot that was missing. Pain shot through my stump, but it was nothing compared to the fear pounding in my veins.

  Cynet stopped at the base of the bed and looked down at my legs. He clucked his tongue. “Such a waste. You had so much potential. But your sister destroyed that. And you asked her to do it.”

  He pulled something from the folds of his coat. I counted my heart beats. They came so fast, so strong. He took his time. I knew I was about to die. But what form would death take?

  Finally, he pulled a wooden figure free and held it up so that I could take a good look at it. It was the golem. Cynet was particularly skilled at carving. He could have rivaled his father in working wood and wielding Ragnell’s magic. But Cynet had chosen a different path.

  The golem was beautiful in a twisted way. Its muscles were finely wrought, down to the tiny details of veins bulging atop the biceps and along the neck. The thorns of the prickly ash were incorporated into the design to look like armor. It stood frozen in a battle stance, its face twisted in a grotesque scream of rage. The mouth was particularly detailed and wide enough to hold a small lump of coal.

  I began to shake uncontrollably when he pulled an ash box out and flipped it open. A glowing coal lay nestled inside.

  “I’m afraid I will have to rule without you, my love,” he said with a sigh. “I offered you the world, and you trampled it under your feet.”

  He plucked the coal from the box with his bare hands and shoved it into the golem’s mouth.

  My throat was raw. I couldn’t catch my breath. “Please, Cynet!”

  Unruffled by my plea, he set the golem on the floor near the base of my bed and backed away. From the box, he pulled out a black chunk of charcoal. “Don’t worry, love. In spite of your betrayal, I’m giving you a marvelous gift. You will be the most powerful demon on the Plains of Dera.”

  “No!” I struggled to get out of the bed. The blanket tangled my legs, and pain pierced my stump. But none of that mattered. I had to get out of here, before he drew the circle.

  Cynet bent to the wooden floor of the tent.

  Panicked, I rolled away from him to the other side of the bed. I grabbed a table edge and hoisted myself up. I got my good leg down to the floor and tried to take a step. But the pain washed through me in waves now. Not even Ragnell’s magic could stop it. The world spun around me, and I was falling. I heard Cynet’s laugh as I blacked out.

  IT MUST HAVE BEEN ONLY a few minutes when I came to. I was lying on the floor at the base of the bed. The golem was only a foot away from my face. It stood in a combat stance, its twisted face ugly and frightening. It was already beginning to glow as though it had swallowed the coal in its mouth.

  I reached out. If I could just remove the coal—

  “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

  I turned to see Cynet join the two ends of a perfectly symmetrical charcoal circle around my bed. He straightened and peered at the golem, speaking a word I had never learned to pronounce.

  I tried to get away from the golem, pushing myself with my arms. I moved painfully slow. My stump was useless—just a bundle of nerves at the end of my leg. I couldn’t escape anyway. If I so much as touched the circle, the demon Cynet summoned would go on a rampage and destroy everyone in the camp, including my father and Bridei. Cynet knew me well enough to realize I wouldn’t let that happen. And his protections around the tent would ensure that no one would come to my rescue. I was trapped.

  The golem was changing. It began to stretch and expand, as though it was no longer made of wood, but of clay. It grew until its head brushed the top of the tent. Its eyes were flames of fire. The thorns adorning its body pulsed with a sickly orange light. I stared at it. What would it feel like, to be devoured by a demon? Would I live an eternity of agony? The thought didn’t scare me as much as it once had. I was already living in anguish.

  The demon’s head twisted, taking in its surroundings. It focused on Cynet and took a menacing step forward, but it could go no further.

  “You are bound by the circle,” Cynet said. All signs of mirth were gone from his face. His expression was more frightening than I had ever seen it. In a way, it matched the rage of his creation. “You shall do my bidding.”

  The demon twisted its body in agony, fighting against invisible bonds.

  “You shall destroy this camp, and everyone in it, including High King Talorc. But first, you shall take this girl to the Plains of Dera where she will serve your mistress forever.”

  The demon looked down at me. I forgot the pain in my leg as I scooted away and got as close to the circle as I could without touching it. If I broke the circle, Cynet’s control over the demon would be lost. The
warriors would fight the demon, but unless they knew how to stop it, they would all be killed.

  And then I realized that the only difference between what Cynet wanted and what would happen if the demon were free was that Cynet would be destroyed with everyone else. His plans would be ruined, and the T’yathan people in general would be spared from his tyranny. The lives lost—my own life, the lives of the entire camp, of my remaining family, and of King Talorc—were a steep price to pay. But I knew in my heart that if that price would save the T’yatha, my father would encourage me to pay it. I had discovered the truth of what worshiping Dera really meant, and I had to prevent my people from suffering that, no matter what.

  The demon reached for me, and I pushed myself back. Cynet saw what I was doing.

  He reached a hand toward me, as if he could stop it. “Don’t, Alswyn!”

  He was too late. I dragged my body over the line, smearing the charcoal with my hands as I went. It seared into my skin, but I kept going.

  Cynet screamed. It was a harsh, guttural sound, full of fear and fury. The demon turned to him and swept him up in its massive fist.

  “I control you!” Cynet shrieked at it. His wails began to die as the demon’s hand constricted his body. “I am the Hand of Dera, and you will obey me, you will—”

  His words dissolved into a howl of agony. The next moment, he exploded into ashes.

  The demon would come for me next. I was too weak to fight. I slumped to the floor, exhausted and giving in to my fate. I would join Cynet on the Plains of Dera, but at least I knew my nation was safe. At least I knew I would pay for what I had done to my mother.

  But then Bridei was there, broadsword already out and hacking at the demon’s thorns. Sparks flew from each contact with the wood, as though the creature were made of metal. The demon’s strength only seemed to grow.

  “To me!” Bridei yelled. “To me, warriors of T’yatha!”

  Fyn was the first to reach her side. They both parried and thrust spear and sword at the demon, dancing away from its killing grip. Then more warriors arrived. They couldn’t stop it. There was only one way to stop a demon. I had to get Bridei’s attention.