“Always,” I said, welcoming the weight as he tossed me the swords. “Protect the King?”
Dolan emptied the holster and brandished his axe. “Always.”
I drew magic to go along with my swords and we walked right into the middle of it—Dolan with his impenetrable skin and me with my scars; the edges glowing with magic. No one moved against us. Elek wisely stepped back and lowered his blade. But he didn’t sheathe it, so I knew we weren’t done.
Malaq dropped to one knee beside Ordree. He took her hand and professed his gratitude while Jarryd removed his belt and wrapped it about her leg. His fingers, weak and aching from the fight, shook as he tried to fasten the leather above Ordree’s wound. Malaq took over and pulled the belt snug.
I snagged Ordree’s dark seething eyes. “You okay?”
“The Orator swings like a child,” she spat with ragged breath. “I’ve sustained more damage hunting crag boar in the wilds of Arulla.”
“Sounds like fun.” I gave Jarryd a mental shove to stay with her. Then I hauled Malaq up for the second time today. “You’re not the one who’s supposed to be kneeling, Nef’areen.”
“I’ll try and remember that.” His single-eyed gaze shifted to Elek with grim purpose. “He’s crossed the line for the last time.”
I was thinking he’d crossed it a long time ago, but I kept that to myself and turned on Elek. “You know what it means when one of your best warriors takes a stand against you?” He glared at me in silence. I took it as a no. “It means you’re acting like a spoiled prick instead of a leader.”
Elek’s back and shoulders straightened. His dark eyes darted as he tried to ignore my simmering scars. “King Malaq and I had an arrangement. An arrangement,” he repeated with gritted teeth, “that should have precluded him from dismissing my learned opinion for the whisperings of a filthy witch. I will not have my authority usurped by a slave!” The wings on Elek’s forehead plumped as his veins engorged. His sword arm twitched.
“I wouldn’t,” I said.
“Why? Would you really strike me down, Troy? Murder Aylagar’s only son? Shatter a valuable alliance at the birth of Malaq’s reign?”
Expecting interference, I glanced at his warriors, but the bulk of them were still in a line, ensuring the view of their allies remained obstructed. The rest were busy holding swords to the throats of Malaq’s men.
“Think before you act, Shinree,” Elek warned. “This courtyard is a bubbling pot of tension. One wrong move and you’ll kill us all. Again.”
“You’re the one who blew up the plateau with our men out there. You’re the one who drew first. What happens next is your decision, Elek. Not mine.”
His reply oozed with self-assurance. “I believe you’re mistaken. But you generally are mistaken in most things, aren’t you,” Elek’s gaze smoldered, and the white of his eyes darkened to red, “L’tarian?” A familiar, disdainful voice overlapped Elek’s. “Must you always stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong?”
Behind me, Malaq cursed, “Reth.” He rushed forward, leaving Dolan to scramble as Malaq climbed in Elek’s face, glaring with more hatred coming through his one eye than most people could muster in two. “Let Elek go, you son of a bitch. I know you can hear me!”
“Of course I can hear you,” Jem scolded. “I thought you possessed more than the basic mutt intelligence, Roarke. Apparently, I was wrong. It makes me almost sorry my pets took your eye.” Elek’s mouth lifted in an unnatural smile. “With your looks gone, and your throne all but mine, you truly have nothing left.”
“I suffered this wound in defense of people I swore to protect—in defense of my family,” Malaq snarled. “What do you care enough about to defend? Certainly not your own son!”
“You dare speak of him like you care? All those times at the prison, when L’tarian was suffering and you sat, safe in your little room, watching…letting it happen.” The smile in my father’s voice was plain. “You liked watching, didn’t you?”
Malaq lunged. I shoved him back. Danyon called for his men (trapped somewhere behind the crowd) as warriors on all sides of us brandished weapons. They advanced to protect Elek.
I turned to them, scars blazing. “Back off.”
As Elek’s men held position with uneasy stares, Jem baited Malaq, “It always struck me as odd, your…alleged friendship with my son. I never understood what basis it could possibly have. A tragic past? A common foe? I think not.” Accusation tightened the lines around Elek’s eyes. “You exploited him, manipulated him under the guise of friendship. I can’t imagine the lies you told…the careful maneuverings you employed to keep him in line.”
Malaq’s breath was coming fast. “Damn you…”
”It takes a masterful man to make the slave think he follows his master willingly. You’ve tamed the wild dog, Your Grace. I bow to your accomplishment.” Elek bent briefly at the waist. The smile on his face as he straightened was satisfied as all hell—because he thought it was working. He thought he could drive a wedge between us. He was wrong.
I knew who Malaq was. I didn’t always like it, but I accepted it. And what he saw in me was never the potential for harm as Jem believed, but the potential for good. More importantly, Malaq had always tried hard to get me to see it, too.
“My actions,” Malaq argued, “have always been noble.”
A strained laugh erupted from Elek’s throat. “Killing your flesh and blood—my other—and stealing his throne. You consider that noble?”
“I didn’t kill Draken,” Malaq shot back.
“Just like you didn’t kill your mother? The woman would have never attempted to escape Taiven’s clutches if her belly wasn’t swollen with you. She fled to save you, Roarke. And she died for it.”
Malaq stood frozen in stunned rage. Danyon took up position behind him, guarding Malaq’s back while his men fought against the slowly encroaching Arullan line. But my focus was on the laughter Jem was pushing from Elek’s mouth. I wanted to kill him for it. My father turning his acid tongue on me was one thing. Hearing him demean Malaq really had my temper going.
“I suppose,” Jem pondered aloud, “that’s something you and my son have in common: a mother’s blood on your hands. And soon a child’s. Though, it’s possible Fate may grant mercy on the poor thing, but…the eldring do have an appetite.”
I swallowed the rising sickness in my throat. “Call them back.”
Elek’s lips curved.
Dread overlaid the anger in Malaq’s voice. “Ian…?”
Feeling the panic in me, Jarryd rose from Ordree’s side. “What’s going on?”
I glanced between him and Malaq. “Jem sent the eldring back to Kabri.”
Jarryd’s jaw twitched. “When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are they still there? Ian?” he barked, when I didn’t answer fast enough.
I forced the loathsome words out again. “I don’t know.”
Malaq barreled past me with Natalia in his hand. As the blade’s thin edge neared Elek’s throat, I threw my own sword up and blocked it.
Malaq was shaking. “Move, Ian.”
“I can’t do that. Killing the puppet won’t harm the master. I’ve tried.”
Our blades still locked, Malaq tightened his grip and pushed harder. “Elayna…” he grunted. “And the boy…”
I offered him all I could. “Sienn is there to heal them.”
“That’s not good enough.” Pain deepened the rage on Malaq’s face. “Ian, Elayna is carrying my child.”
My stomach sunk with an abundance of dismay and anxiety that was Jarryd’s as much as mine. Of course she is, I thought, remembering my vision, with twins. “You still can’t kill him. Elek didn’t send those machines out. He didn’t send the eldring to Kabri. My father did. Elek may be a pompous bastard, but you need his warriors for this fight.”
With a growl of surrender, Malaq lowered his arm and backed up. I pivoted fast and aimed my own blade at the haughty expression on Elek’s face. “You visited the Arullan ships. You brought Elek offerings. You gave him something with a spelled stone and have been using it to manage him for weeks. But whatever your plan with Elek, it’s done. It’s time to let him go. All of them.” I added. “Because I’m not buying he’s the only Arullan wearing one of your gifts.”
“I’m flattered you think me so generous,” Jem said lightly.
“That’s one word for you.”
Elek’s jaw tensed. “Bring me what I need. What we both need. Stop wasting time with these mongrels. Langor’s fall is inevitable. Yours doesn’t have to be.”
“Call the eldring back. Stop going after the people I care about. You can have me and the tablets.” I lowered my sword. “Just don’t hurt anyone else.”
Jem pulled Elek’s face into a grimace. “I’m afraid I can’t make that deal. The eldring are going to eat….what they eat,” he shrugged. “And you can’t fault me for defending my home during an enemy incursion.” His red eyes flitted to Malaq. “That was a bold move, Roarke, sending your people in when you knew they had no chance.” Jem gave Dolan the once over. “I hope your new guard dog is more resilient. At least this one has two hands,” he added, and alarm sunk into my stomach. “Whoever said Langorians can tolerate pain clearly never tortured one.”
Malaq’s blade lifted a second time. Before he could complete the swing, I thrust the hilt of my sword into the side of Elek’s head and knocked him out cold.
A clamor rose among the warriors as Elek hit the stones. Many had overheard the exchange and knew the Senior Orator was not himself. Others knew only they had a duty to their leader, and loudly vocalized their desire to protect him. They backed up their bravado with action as Danyon’s men breached the line and freed Malaq’s guardsmen. Drawn to the commotion, more Rellans pushed through the throng. Langorians came next. Insults fired back and forth. Shouts bounced from all sides. A scuffle broke out in back.
In seconds the anger in the courtyard had become palpable.
Malaq pulled a Langorian sergeant out of the crowd. “This Arullan woman saved my life. Take her to my chambers and fetch the King’s Healer. Get her whatever she needs.”
As the man lifted Ordree into his arms and carried her away, I turned to Dolan. “I don’t care what he says or what order he gives you. Don’t let Malaq out of your sight.”
Dolan bowed his head. “You have my word. Anything else?”
“Search Elek. Find the stone my father gave him and get rid of it. Put him under guard and do the same with any Arullan refusing to be searched.”
Dolan sent out a call. A well-muscled man with a tuft of red beard stepped forward. After a word from Dolan, the man bent down beside Elek. As he stripped off the Orator’s clothes, the dissension grew louder.
Malaq moved up next to me. “I’m coming with you.”
“No,” I shook my head. “You can’t go back to Kabri yet.”
“Ian, she’s my wife. And the boy…” he shot a risky glance at Jarryd. “He’s like my own.”
“I’ll send word through the spelled font with whatever we find. But what’s happened in Kabri, it’s done. This—what’s happening here—isn’t. You need to stay and fix this, Malaq. You need to keep this,” I gestured around the courtyard, “from breaking.” He offered no protest and I said, with an insistent edge, “Tell me about Krillos.”
Malaq put a hand to his furrowed brow. “We needed intelligence on your father’s city, information on exits, weaknesses, and guard strength. I wanted to map the place. Get eyes on the crown and Lirih. Give you some idea of their location. I thought it would save time. Get you back here quicker to help end this damn war.”
“I get it,” I said, trying not to let worry drive my temper. “But it was stupid. And he was stupid for going.”
“Krillos didn’t go alone.” Malaq steeled his goateed jaw, and I knew what was coming. After all, I’d heard it once before. How they’d traveled west to help me. How they’d been captured, executed, and thrown from my father’s wall. I’d already imagined their bodies hanging side by side, rotten and stripped to the bone; food for hungry desert scavengers. So when Malaq finished his thought and said, “Jillyan went with him,” I was already working to dislodge the sound of her pain from my mind.
“I swear,” I snarled, “the next person that tells me it was just a vision…” Teeth clenched, I took a guess. “Sienn made a door for them after we left?”
Malaq’s nod was weary. “She sent them to the Langorian village closest to Jem’s domain. We’d been gathering intelligence on his patrols for weeks. They were to infiltrate, pose as guards, and walk right through the front gate. It was supposed to be a twenty-four hour mission, whether they found anything or not. I didn’t even know they weren’t back,” Malaq added with a touch of guilt. “I’ve had no communication with Kabri for days. There’s been no time. Krillos was to send a report through the font. I assumed one of the counselors received it and… I told Krillos to pick men for the job, but he insisted on going. Jillyan too. They wanted to help you. We all did.”
Numb, I said, “I have to go.”
“Wait,” he stopped me. “After Kabri, I need you to get this spell off Jem’s army. I won’t lose this keep, Ian. I’ll send Elek’s machines out myself if I have to.”
“You do that, and you risk destroying not only the plateau, but everyone on it.”
“If it saves Mirra’kelan and brings peace to the realms, I’ll have no regrets.”
“Oh, trust me, my friend, you will.”
Then we’ll truly have something in common.
FORTY SIX
“It’s too quiet,” Jarryd whispered. “We should split up.”
I glanced back at him, declining to acknowledge the clawed-open door to his left or the blood-splattered wall to his right. One streak was heavier than the rest. Drips ran, staggered and glistening. A heavy quiet tensed the air. There was no clatter of steel, no shouts of alarm.
No baby crying.
“No,” I said. “We stick together.”
I pointed ahead to the stairs. I’d opened my door in an isolated corridor on the first floor. It was the same corridor I’d arrived in five years from now during my inadvertent oracle spell to the future. The idea that I’d subconsciously brought us here carried a sense of foreboding I couldn’t even curse Fate for—seeing as whatever remained of the old god was inside me. Instead, I’d shut out the grim notion, stepped over the guards that had greeted us upon arrival, with their faces mangled and their stomachs lying beside them on the floor, and fled the corridor as quickly as possible.
But exploring the castle hadn’t helped. Empty, dark, and ransacked, the halls reeked of death. A chill had taken permanent residency on the back of my neck as we passed rooms full of dismembered and half-eaten remains. We found no one with a pulse. No maids, no castle guards, no Sienn or Elayna. No baby.
Gods, if they’re dead…
With a clenching grip on my swords, I crushed the thought from existence, and headed up the main staircase. Jarryd was a few paces back, watching our rear. The search was taking longer than I wanted. Time was ticking by. The pressure of my impending trip to Ru Jaar’leth weighed on my every step. Malaq’s parting words had a weight of their own. He was ready to trade his soul for peace. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to speed things along.
As we hit the second floor I turned to ask Jarryd for blood. Adding even a drop to a tracking spell would pinpoint his child’s exact location. I never got the words out. A faraway scuffle echoed from down the hall. Jarryd’s exhilaration blasted the link, and he sped off.
Following close behind, the clamor of combat increased as we ran. I slowed enough to glance in each open door. In several rooms, skinned Rellan corpses lay scattered among th
e overturned furnishings. I prayed none of them were alive.
We found her in a room at the end of the hall. Dressed in a split blue leather skirt over boots up to her thighs, a blue tunic and metal breastplate, the flaps of Elayna’s skirt whipped against her legs as she pivoted. Ashen waves striped her face. They swung back the other way as she came to an abrupt halt and ripped her blade in a crosswise cut; opening her opponent’s bowed back from shoulder to rump. Rotating swiftly to the eldring’s flank, Elayna buried her sword in its side.
Her movements were natural, graceful. It was like she was dancing.
It was like watching Aylagar.
Plucking a dagger from her belt, Elayna slashed it across the eldring’s throat.
Jarryd was at her side before the body landed. “Where is he?”
Panting, Elayna shook her head. Sweat-drenched tendrils slapped against her face. “I don’t know.”
I felt the struggle as Jarryd swallowed his rage. “Have you been to his room?”
“He’s not there.” Elayna wiped a tired wrist across her brow. “I gave our son to Sienn.”
“She can’t protect him,” Jarryd snapped. “Sienn has no battle spells.”
“Sienn has a sharp mind and a good heart,” Elayna countered.
“A good heart won’t kill an eldring,” he said brusquely.
“Not all heroic actions come from soldiery,” she replied, equally crisp. “There were days at Darkhorne when your very presence was my savior.”
In the silence of Jarryd’s stunned embarrassment, I asked her, “Are there more?”
“I believe he was the last one.” Elayna gestured at her recent kill. “Though, I’m unsure what’s happened in the city. The men I sent to give aid have not yet returned. This was thankfully a smaller force than before, but this time the castle was a target. So again were your people, Ian. The rest of us were merely in the way.”
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Borne Page 39
