by Susan Hayes
“You didn’t wake me. I’m not used to sleeping for more than a few hours at a time. Slaves are not permitted the luxury of sleeping in. Besides, we’ll be leaving soon. Did you think I would stay abed while you went to war without me?”
Several of the men looked sheepish, and she realized that was precisely what he’d intended.
“I wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. The healers staying behind today are hoping you will join them in making preparations for the arrival of the freed slaves. They’re going to need to be cared for, and a friendly face would likely make it easier for them to adjust.”
Gwyn squared her shoulders and braced herself for the condemnation that her next words might bring. “I’m not what any of them would consider a friendly face. I was my master’s right hand, the one who trained them in their duties and meted out our master’s punishments. It might be best if they don’t know that I’m here at all, Vamir. They have no reason to trust me, and every reason to fear me.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Many of them never even knew I was a slave. They thought I did what I did of my own free will.”
Utter silence following her statement, but then Vamir gave her a half smile and slipped an arm around her waist. “No one can blame you for what happened when you were enslaved to that bastard. I spent less than three days wearing one of his collars, and it showed me that not even my stubborn ass could defy that kind of magic for long. I don’t know how you did it.”
“I suppose that means I’m more stubborn than you,” she answered with a smile as she saw an opportunity to make her next point. “Which is why you shouldn’t bother arguing with me when I tell you that I’m coming with you to the citadel.”
“No.” He snapped and glowered at her.
“Yes,” she countered, glowering right back. “You might need me. I promise I’ll stay with the spell-weavers if it makes you feel any better, but I am going.”
“You’ll be vulnerable. Hells, woman. You don’t even have armor.”
“Only yesterday you taught me that I can summon anything I want out of the essence. I imagine that includes armor.”
“I don’t like it,” he growled.
“You don’t have to like it. I’m still going.”
It was Tanor who broke the silence by laughing. “Holy hells. She really is your perfect match, Vamir. I never believed I’d live to see this, but I think we’ve finally found someone even more stubborn than you.”
“I spent my life as a prisoner in that place. Do you really think you can stop me from being there when you tear it down?” she asked, and Vamir’s expression softened a little.
“If I were in your place, then I’d want the same thing. It doesn’t change the fact it’s going to be dangerous.”
A new voice sounded before she could argue further. “We’ll protect her, commander.”
Gwyn turned her head and spotted Akhal and Aztar near the doorway, both of them on one knee, heads bowed and their swords in their hands.
“A long time ago, your parents trusted your safety to us, and we failed them, Gwyneth. We accept that we cannot atone for what happened by returning you to your parents, but we ask that you allow us the honor of continuing to protect you. We won’t fail you again.”
Gwyneth looked at the two kneeling guardians, then glanced back at Vamir when he cleared his throat.
“They came to speak with me this morning. They still wish to be your honor guard if you will have them.”
“I will.” She smiled at her two protectors, who looked up at her with identical expressions of satisfaction.
They rose as one and sheathed their blades. “She’ll be safe with us. And given what she is capable of, it might be best if we had her there. It would be foolish to go out and fight while leaving our best weapon at home.”
Vamir pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Very well, you may come. But so help me, little one. If I catch you doing anything even the slightest bit dangerous, I will teleport you home and chain you to our damned bed!”
“Damn, Vam. I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing,” Tyrion joked, earning himself a scathing look.
Ignoring his commander’s irritation, Tanor spoke up next. “I could’ve lived my whole life without knowing that about you. I think that’s our cue to end this meeting and find somewhere else to be. We muster in the courtyard in an hour.”
Gwyn stayed with Vamir, but she waved to Ak and Az as they moved to leave with the others. “I will join you when it’s time to go. Thank you both.”
Once they were alone again, Vamir gave her a withering look and shook his head in rueful frustration. “I’m tempted to chain you to the bed right now, but I know that won’t do a damned bit of good. So, why don’t we work on teaching you the basics of armor design instead?”
****
Vamir stood and watched as his men stepped through the portal he had created, one after the other until they were all accounted for, standing in formation, their wings furled and their weapons in their hands. Behind the warriors were the spell-weavers, and among their ranks was one who stood out like a beacon, despite the fact she was half the size of anyone else present. Gwyneth, whose white and gray armor gleamed like the polished marble halls of their home. Her helm was designed to mimic the appearance of the Garda, complete with a snarling visage and a pair of horns, but with her smaller size and lighter colors, she would still stand out.
He’d argued with her for the hour they had left, but in the end, he’d given in and trusted her to take care of herself. After all, she’d survived as the prisoner of their greatest enemy for more than a hundred years. She had already proven herself stronger than anyone could have ever imagined. She needed to bear witness to this moment, and as much as he worried, he couldn’t bring himself to stand in her way.
Besides, he had a feeling that if he had ordered her to stay behind, she’d of come on her own. At least this way, he could keep an eye on her.
When everyone was in position, he raised his sword overhead and took to the air. He knew the warriors would follow him while the healers and spell-weavers would wait for a few minutes before teleporting the last mile to join the battle.
Vamir led the way, soaring over the final hilltop and into the valley where the citadel stood, a twisted outcropping of black stone that rose out of the ground to dominate the landscape. Years of the Magi’s presence here, with his dark rituals that twisted the essence and tore at the very fabric of the planes, had left the land scarred and dead. Nothing remained but skeletal trees and rocks scattered across the husk of what was once a lush valley.
They hadn’t even touched down before the doors at the base of the tower opened, and a host of men charged out, weapons raised. Thanks to Gwyneth’s detailed descriptions, Vamir knew these were the only real soldiers in the Magi’s employ. Most of their duties were undemanding and routine, simple tasks like escorting slaves to their new masters and acting as trainers to those destined to be sold to the fighting pits.
They outnumbered the Garda, but not by much, and it was obvious from their undisciplined approach that they were no match for the Garda forces descending on them. Vamir landed a few feet in front of the best armored of the group, assuming he was their leader. The man bellowed a war cry, but there was fear in his eyes as he closed the last few feet between them. Vamir gave him an easy death, cleaving the other man’s head from his shoulders with one stroke.
The battle raged around him, battle cries and agonized screams filling the air and the familiar tang of spilled blood scented every breath he took. The spell-weavers didn’t take long to get into the action, and soon a fiery rain pelted down on the enemy, scorching flesh and searing the ground beneath their feet. The terrible destruction raining down from above sent the survivors running, some of them charging into the fighting while others fled back toward the citadel.
That was when he heard something new, a roaring sound that built to a deafening crescendo. He glanced up to find a massive cyclone
tearing through the ranks of fleeing soldiers, leaving nothing but broken bodies and devastation in its wake.
“That’s nothing I’ve ever seen our people conjure before,” Tyrion called out from his spot guarding Vamir’s shield arm.
“That’s because they’re not the ones who created that thing. I only know one person who can, and right now, I’m glad she’s on our side.”
“That’s Gwyneth’s doing? Holy hells. You’re a braver man than I am,” Tanor chimed in from his position on his brother’s flank.
The fight ended quickly, with the last few of the Magi’s men throwing down their swords and bolting for the far end of the valley in hopes of escaping. They didn’t get far. Before his men had left the outpost, Vamir had made it clear that anyone who willingly worked for the sorcerer had earned a death sentence. Only the slaves would be spared. No one else.
With the armed resistance dealt with, the attack shifted into the second stage. Room by room, they cleared the citadel, rescuing the slaves they came across and executing anyone who took up arms against them. It was a slow business, but eventually they were standing outside an iron door, sealed by both magical and mundane means.
They’d found the Magi.
Gwyn stood outside the door to the master’s quarters and marveled at the changes that had taken place since the last time she’d stood in this very spot. The carvings on the iron door were the same, every glyph and sigil exactly as she remembered, but she was someone very different now. She wasn’t a fearful slave any longer. She was someone to be feared.
Vamir stood only a few steps away, and behind him, a host of guardians, all of them watching her.
“Can you open it?” Vamir asked.
She nodded. “Do you remember when you were first summoned? There were chains binding you.”
“I remember. They reeked of Magi sorcery.”
“I created those chains, and I helped to create the locks that seal this door. It will open for me. Once it does, you’ll need to be ready.”
He growled low in his throat, and despite everything happening in that moment, the sound still made her pulse race and her body throb with sudden need.
“I don’t need you to tell me to be ready, little one. Just get that damned door open and remember your promise. You stay out here until it’s done.”
“I’ll remember.” She laid her hand on the center panel and closed her eyes, letting the essence flow through her and into the cold metal. A few focused thoughts, a twist of the mind, and the spells that held the door shut were undone. Without a word, she opened her eyes and stepped away from the entrance, giving way to the warriors. This was their moment. Hers would come at the end when she saw for herself that her master was dead and gone.
The master defended himself as best he could, but there was not much he could do against the collective might of so many guardians. In their stone forms, they were nearly impossible to damage and impervious to even the most powerful of spells. Gwyn kept her word and stayed in the hallway, though she did peek several times to make sure that Vamir was unhurt.
When silence fell at least, she knew it was over.
“He’s gone.”
Vamir’s declaration confirmed what she could already feel. At the moment of the master’s death, everything he’d ever created began to come undone. It was the nature of the magic they wielded that it only lasted as long as their life force was present to sustain it. Soon the citadel would fall to ruin, along with the collars that bound every slave the master had ever made.
Like her, the ones who were strong enough and lucky enough to survive would finally be free.
Gwyn walked through the doorway and into a room as familiar to her as the sparse cell she’d lived in. There were scorch marks on the walls now, overturned furniture and piles of scrolls that would normally be set carefully in their places, but it was still a place that stirred dark memories.
The body of the master lay crumpled on the rug near the hearthstone, his crimson and black robes slashed and bloodied. His hood was pulled up, hiding most of his features, but she could see the sharp lines of his nose, and the cruel twist of his lips that lingered even in death.
She looked at the dead Magi, and then turned to smile at Vamir. “Now, I’m truly free.”
It took another hour to explore the rest of the citadel, and by the time it was done, three things had become clear. The first was that her former master was richer than she’d ever imagined. That wealth was now being delivered to the outpost to be used to help the surviving slaves find a new start for themselves.
The second discovery was of greater value to the Garda than gold. Maps and descriptions showing the locations of several other members of the Magi were found in the dead Magi’s desk. Vamir and the others would review them soon, and use that information to begin a renewed war against the Magi.
The last revelation was the hardest to accept. They’d scoured every room in the citadel and spoken to every slave and servant, but there was no sign of the apprentice, Raul. No one had seen him since the night before she and Vamir had made their escape. There was no trace of him, his rooms emptied, his possessions gone. It was as if he’d never been there at all.
Had the master killed him? Sent him away as punishment for his disobedience? Nobody knew, and Gwyn had a dark suspicion that they’d see him again someday. It wasn’t something she looked forward to.
The sun was setting by the time she and Vamir left the citadel for the last time. As they teleported back to the portal that would take them home, she felt nothing but relief to know that she would never set eyes on that terrible place again.
***
Epilogue
In the weeks that followed, change became a constant thing. Many of the slaves took their share of the dead master’s riches and returned to their home worlds, but others chose to stay at the outpost. They returned to the trades they’d held before being taken, and those who had no trade took up new ones, acting as apprentices. Forges that had sat forgotten for decades were put to use again, and for the first time, farmers settled on the fertile land at the base of the mountain.
The outpost hummed with an energy that Vamir hadn’t seen since before the Magi had appeared. It was a place of purpose again. They remembered who they were, and what they were capable of. It was a good feeling.
Almost as good as waking each morning to find Gwyneth snuggled in his arms.
He’d risen from their bed at dawn, leaving her to sleep while he went out on their balcony to welcome the day. Smoke already rose from the forge furnaces. Far below, he could see several pale dots that he knew were livestock brought in from other worlds to act as the first breeding stock for the farms that were being established in the valley.
He watched the serpentine flow of the river and let his thoughts drift until he felt Gwyneth’s presence. He turned around to find her watching him, her face wreathed in smiles and her eyes gleaming with happiness. She wore a delicate robe of white silk so sheer he could tell she wore nothing beneath it.
“You look very pleased about something, guardian. What is it?”
“I was thinking about you,” he said with a grin.
“Liar.” She laughed as she walked out to meet him, her bare feet making no sound against the stone floor.
“Well, before I saw you, I was thinking about how much I like the changes that have taken place here lately. But once I saw you in that outfit, I forgot about everything but you.”
“Flattery so early in the day? You are in a good mood.” Gwyneth let him draw her into his arms and tipped her face up, inviting him to kiss her.
“I am. Though I think my mood could be improved. A few hours abed with you usually does wonders. The men barely recognize me anymore.”
“I’m surprised they’ve noticed. Now that there are a more women living here, I swear they spend all their time trying to impress the new arrivals. I could paint this entire outpost pink and swap out their favorite swords for bouquets of roses, and it could take t
hem days to notice.”
“Please don’t do either of those things. When they did notice, there’d be a great hue and cry over it, and they’d all come to me to set things right. I like things as they are right now.” He swept his hand out to encompass the still quiet community around them. “Silent.”
“I don’t know. I think there’s still something missing from this place,” she murmured, wrapping her hands around his waist.
“And what’s that, little one? Whatever it is you want, I’ll fetch it for you. All you have to do is ask.” It was said lightly, but Vamir knew it was the truth. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his soulbound. Seeing her smile was the greatest joy of his life.
“You might like the silence, but I think we need more noise. Like, say, the sound of our child’s laughter.”
Regret filled him, and he crushed her tight to his chest. “That is the one thing I can’t give you, little one. I’m sorry.”
“So you’ve said.” She whispered and pressed a kiss to the underside of his chin. “But, oh great and glorious commander of the last Company of Guardians, you happen to be wrong. I’m with child.”
Gwyn held her breath as she waited for Vamir to grasp what she’d said. One minute he held her tight, and the next he lifted high into the air.
“Say that again,” he demanded, grinning from ear to ear.
“You’re wrong.”
“Not that part, woman. The other bit.”
“I’m pregnant, Vamir.”
He carried her back into their quarters, holding her tenderly. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She’d sensed it upon waking that morning, a bond as real as the one she shared with Vamir, only this one was far more delicate. The fates had given her everything she’d ever dreamed of and some things she’d never dared to hope for.
“How?” he demanded.
“I would have thought that would be obvious,” she teased. “The only reason you thought you couldn’t have children was because you believed you would never find your soulmate. I’m here, Vamir. So it makes sense that we could have a child. We just never realized it.”
