She tilted her head to the side and the tiniest of smiles escaped her lips. “Indeed. So tell me, what exactly was your brilliant plan that I am so disrupting with my humble suggestion?”
Nathair opened his mouth automatically to explain it to her, and then clamped it shut again in annoyance.
“It's not as if I don't already know,” she said quietly, giving him a look that one might give a young child who has misbehaved. When he stubbornly maintained his silence, she stood gracefully from the seat and came to stand by him. She seemed not to have aged a day since last he saw her, her beauty matched by none but himself as she too had sculpted her flesh to her liking. In fact, it had been she who first introduced him to the possibility.
She drew close to him until the sweet smell of her enveloped his senses and she leaned forward to whisper in his ear, her breath tickling the hairs on his neck and causing the most unwanted sensation.
“You've never found anyone else have you,” she whispered and he closed his eyes trying to block her out. “No one who could do what we can.”
She raised her hand to his face, stroking the scar along his cheek with her thumb. Then she turned her hand over and slid her ring across his jaw sharply, drawing blood.
He let out an intake of breath at the sudden pain and the sensation as she opened her power to him. He felt himself reacting and hated himself for it, welcoming the pain as punishment. She took a deep breath and he found himself unable to tear his view from her heaving chest as she watched him in excitement her full glistening lips parted in anticipation.
He raised his arms to push her away but she caught them and pressed them onto herself. The warmth of her body threatened to overwhelm his sensations but he fought it back, his hands shaking with the effort to stop them from moving where they wanted to go.
“No!” he fairly shouted at her, pushing her from him in a sudden burst. “I will not let you control me again, Mother.”
She stumbled back from him, and tripped over her dress to fall ungraciously to the floor. She gazed back up at him through her eyelashes, looking very indignant sprawled on the plush carpet.
She snarled at him. “Fine, don't listen to me. When your plan blows up in your face you know where to find me.”
She pulled herself to her feet while Nathair watched unmoving, unwilling to trust himself to touch her to offer her a hand to stand. She stood there staring him down for a long moment before gracefully taking herself out of the room without another word.
Nathair breathed a sigh of relief and sat down heavily onto the couch, his hands buried in his hair. He spent a long moment in that position, grasping at the balled handfuls of hair as though they were a life-line and he took several steadying breaths. He brought a hand up to his chin where he could feel the sting of the cut.
When he removed it, he could see that it was still bleeding. He rumbled his anger deep in his chest, and tapped his bloodied finger on his leg. He shook his head, and stood abruptly to descend the stairs back to where his prize lay. She was sleeping, but her body would still react. He drew a knife off of its sheath on the wall and took a deep breath before placing the blade along her wrist.
The blade lay gleaming against the smooth skin, and Nathair could see the pulsing of her blood causing faint vibrations in her arm as her heart beat life through her body. Swiftly, he drew the blade along it and watched as the skin parted, and then slowly welled with blood. He dropped the knife and put a hand in the air over the wound, and closed his eyes as he soaked up the energy released. Nowhere near what would have been available if she had been conscious, especially had he worked her into a terrified frenzy first, but it would do to repair the damage that his mother had done to his chin.
How much damage have I had to repair over the years? He wondered. Have I ever really been repaired? He had been able to resist her tonight, but just barely. He leaned back against the wall to regain his strength.
Looking back down at Jezebel, he saw that blood was beginning to drip down the edge of her wrist. As he watched, a small droplet formed and splashed down onto the table below.
Nathair made a face. I should not have done that. I should have simply used some of my own power, it was a small cut. But he knew why he had. He couldn't bring himself to give any more of himself over to his mother. She had taken enough from him. And yet, he couldn't totally dismiss her plan either.
Now that the earthquake had caused such an upset, it would be impossible to launch a proper attack on Treymayne. If, however, they were to infiltrate and play nice, they could perhaps gain support for the damage that had occurred while gathering knowledge on a foe who for so long had been isolated from them. It did make a certain kind of sense.
The only problem was that it was his mother's idea. Nathair sighed and swept a hand over Jezebel's wound, closing it but not healing it. Let her heal with time, he thought and left her to rest. She would need it for the job he had for her.
CHAPTER 5
Katya perched on the side of the building, pressing her body flat against the stones as she strained her keen ears to hear the people inside the window.
“I know we need to do something about it, but what would you have me do? Half the city is beating down the doors at the Hall of Justice either begging for help or accusing their neighbor of having pillaged their house. The whole country is in a state of uproar. We have a crisis that needs to be dealt with before we can go squabbling for power.”
“But now is the perfect opportunity!” came the voice that Katya identified as her target's. “The fact that there is a crisis,” he sputtered in his frantic excitement, “is my point exactly. It is a time of need and where has the King been? Holed up in his private suites while we deal with the people. What better time to lobby for more power than when we will have the masses behind us when we point these facts out to them? Plus Jezebel is gone, so we won't have to deal with her First Advisor nonsense. We can make ourselves into what our titles suggest we should be.”
“I don't like it,” said the first voice and Katya's target sighed exasperatedly.
“Fine. We'll do it your way. We'll deal with the crisis at hand first and then focus our energy on gaining the power of the seats back. But you know we have to do something. He is steadily taking more and more influence away from us until one day we wake up and find ourselves to be inconsequential.”
“We will deal with it,” the second voice promised and Katya heard the distinct rustle of clothes as the man stood, “but I won't put it before the plight of the people. We must have our priorities straight.”
“Of course, and you're right. The people are our first priority. I guess I just let my ideas get the better of me,” her target smoothed over the refusal of his plan, and Katya almost snorted at its insincerity.
“Good.” The speaker let out a sigh of relief. “If you'll excuse me, I have a pile of paperwork sitting on my desk at home that requires my attention. It will be another sleepless night I'm sure.”
“By all means,” acknowledged her target, a dangerous undertone sneaking into the voice. “We'll speak of this further once we have crossed all the t's and dotted all the i's.”
The second speaker didn't seem to pick up on the change. “Well, goodnight then.”
Footsteps clapped across the room and Katya heard the door open and the footsteps retreat down the hallway. Katya had memorized the outlay of the building, and knew that in twenty steps the man would come to the front breezeway where he would be met with his coat by one of the servants.
She could hear their muffled voices as he bid them goodnight and the front door opened and closed. Katya waited for the footsteps she knew would come down the hallway to the room as the servant predictably checked on his master to see if he needed anything now that his guest was gone.
Moments after the door clicked shut and Katya heard the dull thud of the bolt being put into place for the night, the servant came down the hall and knocked on the door softly.
“Come in,” barked he
r target and Katya noted that he must be writing something as there was the scratching of pen on paper. “Deliver this for me,” he commanded, “I will simply have to take matters into my own hands.”
The servant did not ask questions, but presumably took the paper and left without a word.
Katya listened closely and could hear its footsteps retreat to the far end of the house. The scratching sound started up once more and Katya settled herself in to wait until the servant returned to bring the last nightcap before they all retired for the night, leaving her target alone until morning.
Her owner had specifically told her that this particular errand had to leave no question that it was an accident.
That was why she was going to stab the man.
She smiled. This would be the last little errand that she would run for the beast who had been her owner for so long.
She had been testing the collar the last few days and had felt it slowly returning to power. However, her moment of freedom had allowed her to prepare for it, and she had erected barriers that she had no doubt could withstand it even when it regained full strength. It had held her so tightly before only because it prevented her from thinking properly, but now that she had her wits about her she was well aware of the fact that she was far more powerful than the collar itself.
She had also been disturbed to find that she maintained a connection with the vile man through the collar. If she thought about him hard enough, she could actually feel what was going on around him. She shuddered. The barriers that she had erected to stop that particular sensation from coming over her unexpectedly had gone up very quickly.
She felt a tickle on her neck and smiled sincerely for the comfort of Marak. The tiny snake wound around her body effortlessly, magically attached to her as he was magically animated. Creating new spells to weave into him had helped to keep Katya sane during her years of training.
To anyone else, he was simply the armband that she wore, one that she had had for as long as she could remember. Karl had let her keep it, despite taking everything else that she could call her own, which Katya had thought was a nice gesture at the time. Now, she realized that the reason behind this ‘kindness’ was because of his family’s crest, which was that of a snake. He likened the armband to a brand of his ownership, as one would burn into the flesh of their cattle.
In her early years she had known her owner only as her sponsor, only later realizing that he had bought her essentially into slavery. As a commoner with talent, she was told that her parents had done their duty and brought her to the priests where she was to begin a life of humble servitude. She could remember nothing of them or of her life before the priests.
After a few years, Karl had anonymously contacted her with an offer that she had found unable to refuse. He offered to pay for her training and give her even more instruction beyond what the priests were willing to teach in return for her services. At the time she had figured that it would be better than the boring life with the priests.
If only I had known. Though really, I doubt that he would have accepted my refusal regardless. The tiny tongue flicked across her skin once more, and she felt goose-bumps spring to life. She reached out a finger to stroke the minuscule head. She felt the tiny body pulsating, his own form of purring.
Chair legs scraped across the stone floor as the person sitting in it abruptly stood, and Katya felt Marak race around her arm excitedly. As if on cue, the servant reappeared and Katya heard the expected nightcap being poured.
The door opened and closed again, and her target was left alone. She heard the slurping of liquid, and then glass clicked down roughly onto the table. The man was obviously agitated.
Not for long. There was a puff of air as the candle was blown out, and the shaft of light coming from the window disappeared.
Katya waited a few more moments until she heard the man cross the room before she lithely slipped in through the window. Her eyes were already adjusted to the dim light, and were sharper than most. Part of her training had included a spell for modifying her vision for night so she had no difficulty seeing despite the lack of light.
She glanced around, automatically going into a crouching position while she planned her attack. She spotted her target with his back to her by the opposite wall.
Too easy.
All the same, she sent Marak slithering across the floor to sink his sharp fangs into the man's ankle, injecting him with a paralyzing poison. The man screamed as the fangs bit into his flesh, and Katya's hand clamped over his mouth to let nothing but a muffled moan escape. She waited just a moment while Marak's poison spread through his veins, taking with it a numbing sensation.
No point in causing them unnecessary pain.
Then she stabbed the knife through his back.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
She gently lowered his body to the floor as his legs lost the strength to hold him. He died swiftly and silently. Katya withdrew the knife from her final thrust, and wiped it on the man's expensive tunic.
What a waste of life.
Marak snaked back up her leg and took his place on her arm, giving her a small squeeze before hardening into the metal that was, after all, all he was.
Katya sighed and whispered a prayer of peace to the Three before escaping the way she had come. No one would notice the councilor's absence until morning, but she still had no desire to be seen. Now she had only to decide whether to flee her owner now, or wait to witness his downfall.
The choice was harder than she had thought it would be and now that it was upon her, she found herself torn.
*
Aileen and Charles rode up ahead of her and Gryffon, and were often deep in conversation which Layna suspected also included Echo, who was serving as Aileen’s mount. Layna was glad that despite Gryffon's initial recognition of the horse-woman, he spoke to her with deference, and seemed disinclined to speak to her overly much. He seemed rather in awe of her. This was fine with Layna, as she felt a similar feeling towards the mage and was happy to claim Gryffon's attention as her own.
“Is she really a woman turned into a horse?” Layna whispered to him, though the other three were much too far ahead to hear her question.
“I think so. Like I said though, she's not telling. It's just what we assume. She pranced into the capital, proclaiming that we needed her council. The Word from the Three had just been heard on the Great River that a nightmare would bring us wisdom, and so, when a black female horse came and started talking to us, we listened. She's dropped enough hints that it's probably a pretty safe bet to assume that she was once a human mage, and she either by accident or on purpose stayed in horse form after achieving it.”
“Is this something that happens often in Treymayne?” Layna asked nervously. All of these surprises were starting to wear thin her nerves.
“Not at all. Don't worry, it's not nearly as different from Gelendan as her appearance may make you think, or my previous warnings. I just didn’t want you to be caught off guard. Though I’m not sure it really prepared you for Echo. We've just been having strange things happen, just as you have - or maybe I should say we have, since I've been here, there, with you. I'm getting all confused. Who knows, maybe Endlyfta has completely changed since I've been gone. For all I know, by now we could have a whole herd of horses running the council and I'll be just as confused as you are.”
“I can’t say that would make me unhappy. How long has it been since you've been,” Layna found it hard to use the word for such a strange place, “home?”
“Around a year, I was sent to observe Jezebel and her father last spring, though some of that time was used in preparing my back-story.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes. It makes me feel more at home to be around you though.” Gryffon gave her an affectionate smile and Layna warmed.
Though he had been thoroughly drained by the episode after the barrier spell, his mood had been improving with each pa
ssing day. Layna hoped that Aileen was mistaken, and that whatever it was that had caused him to be sick had passed. She liked this Gryffon, the one that spoke fondly of her and acted as though he enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed his.
“So when we get to Endlyfta, that's your capital,” she paused briefly for his nod of acquiescence, “we will have to beg an audience with your- “
“-Ieldran. That's basically our equivalent to your council. They are our group of elders. The number can vary each year depending on how many people want to be included, but it's never allowed to fall below three. Usually it is many more than that and the meetings have been known to become shouting matches.”
“You've been to them?”
“Most meetings are open to anyone who cares attend, though seating is limited, and often the late-comers end up listening from the street on the voice amplifiers.”
“How does anything get decided that way?”
“It gets put to a vote eventually, and there is a Triumvirate elected within the Ieldran whose words hold more weight than the rest. If a decision really cannot be made, a prayer is sent to the Three on the Great River. Usually, with matters of importance, we get an answer. Though the answer is almost always more of a question than an answer until we figure out the meaning behind the cryptic response. Like the nightmare. The whole Ieldran was taking sleeping potions trying to be the one to have this nightmare of wisdom, and then in trots a horse. Humor of the gods, I suppose.”
“Why do you send it on the Great River?”
Gryffon had to think about this for a minute. “I guess I don't really know. We have the temple with the river running through it, and it acts as the mechanism to carry away our messages. People can go there and float out prayers, thanks to the Three, or whatever other form of worship they want. None of the offerings has ever been found on the shores to my knowledge, so we assume they are getting to their intended recipients.”
“Do you have the priests like we do in Gelendan?”
Those Who Fear the Darkness (BloodRunes: Book 2) Page 8
