“Tonight,” she said, her voice gentle and without fear. “Perhaps tomorrow night.”
Sian tried to imagine this woman in battle with the men who had demolished an entire village, and he could not. No matter how grandly she led these men, she was a healer and a gentle woman, and when the battle she was being guided to fell upon her she would die, just as the prophesy promised.
“Turn back,” he said. “It isn’t too late.”
Ariana sighed, but she did not slow her horse. “I can’t turn back.” She looked at him, her green eyes scared but determined. “It was too late the moment the prophesy was written.”
“I will take your place.” Gladly, fiercely, if only he could know that she was safe.
“You made that offer on the day we met.”
Under very different circumstances. “I have offered several times since.”
“Thank you, but that’s not possible.”
“Anything is possible.”
Sian had never suspected that he’d find himself in such a position. Ariana was right; she was necessary, and the fate of the world rested in her hands. He would not sacrifice the world for her, or for any one person.
He also would not allow Ariana to face her destiny alone. When the time came he would fight with and for her, he would give his life for her if it was necessary. And if Diella rose to the surface and Ariana was gone... he could only hope that the strength he had shared with her made such an atrocity impossible.
“I don’t think I can kill Ciro,” Ariana confessed as they continued on their damned journey. “He’s strong, and he has more men that I do. In anything resembling a fair fight, we will lose.”
“Then why won’t you turn back? Why won’t you save yourself for another day and another battle?”
A few soldiers heard him that time. Heads turned. A few men whispered.
“Because whether or not we win, we will hurt him somehow,” Ariana responded. “I don’t know how, but if your grandfather’s prophesy is correct then whatever we can do to hurt the enemy is essential. I don’t want to see every village in the country destroyed as Lilia’s village was. I don’t want to see whatever Ciro has become rule and destroy everything and everyone I love.”
That was her weakness. She cared. Sian did not mind playing upon her weakness. “These men you call brothers will all die.”
“Perhaps,” she said calmly. “Perhaps not.” Again she stared at him, and he saw the lover she had been, not the leader she had become. “You can turn back, if you’d like,” she offered. “You are not obligated to follow me.”
Sian made a sound of pure disgust. She didn’t understand anything. He was obligated to her in more ways than he dared to admit.
***
Night would soon be upon them, and Ariana felt a growing sense of unease. With every step her horse took, she felt more trepidation. More fear.
Turn back, if you are too afraid to face Ciro.
I can’t turn back.
No one really expects you to be a hero. You’re a girl. A witch with insignificant healing powers.
You’re no girl, and you’re never afraid. When the time comes, you must lend me your strength. If I die, what becomes of you?
I disappear.
You don’t want that to happen.
No, I don’t.
It was odd and unexpected, this almost companionable truce with the dark spirit inside her. Perhaps Diella wasn’t completely dark. After all, she had once been a woman, just like Ariana. She had loved, and fought for survival in what was perhaps the only way she knew how. The empress had not attempted to rise to the surface since Ariana had called Sian to her side. Perhaps she knew that the enchanter would kill her, would kill them both, if she was so bold.
What awaits me? Do you know?
Pain. Sorrow. Death.
You could lie and tell me that together we’re strong enough to win.
Why would I lie to you?
Why, indeed?
The three sentinels who rode slightly ahead stopped at a fork in the road. They turned to her, and waited for her decision. After all, she had been this way once before, when traveling to see her Anwyn cousins. They were a mere two days from turning onto the only mountain road suitable for horses.
Ariana gestured to the trail to the left. “This is the way.”
“Wait!” The sentinel carrying Lilia came forward, urged by the woman who shared his mount this evening. She pointed to the right. “This is a shortcut. There are places where the trail turns narrow, but it will save half a day.”
Lilia had listened carefully to their travel plans, so she knew where they were headed. She knew the mountain trail which would take them to the Anwyn.
I don’t think she can be trusted.
Her entire village was destroyed. Why would she lie?
Everyone lies, witch. Everyone. You’re the empath, you’re the healer. Do you trust her entirely? Do you think she’s incapable of lying? How do you know she’s really from that village? How do you know she’s not one of Ciro’s soldiers?
I would see if that were true.
Would you?
Why would Lilia lead us down the wrong path?
Why, indeed?
Sian bit out her name, probably not for the first time. “Ariana!”
Her head snapped around and she found herself staring into familiar and oddly concerned purple eyes. The colors in those remarkable eyes swam, light and dark shades meeting and melding. She’d been so lost in her conversation with Diella that she had not heard a word that had been spoken.
“I’m thinking,” she said sharply.
Whom should she trust? Whom could she trust? The woman they had saved; the demon who lived inside her; no one at all. At the moment, her magic seemed so insignificant. So useless.
In the end she made her decision about which road they would take, because she had no choice. The authority she did not want was her weight to carry, her place in this war that still felt as if it were coming soon but was not yet here.
This time she led the way, and Sian positioned himself directly beside her.
“It is not too late to turn back,” he said, not for the first time today.
“Not for you, perhaps.”
“I will not run from this fight or any other,” he said tersely. “I only want you to be safe, and you make me feel as if that’s a heinous crime.”
“Not a crime, Sian, just... impossible.”
He remained beside her, occasionally cursing beneath his breath as darkness fell. They traveled at a slow, steady pace, silent and tense. Ariana did not order her men to set up camp and rest for a few hours. Not tonight. Perhaps not tomorrow night, either.
If there was a tomorrow night for any of them.
***
There was a bright half moon in a clear sky, lighting the way well enough for soldiers who were accustomed to seeing in the dark. A steep cliff rose to the right, hinting at the harshness of the mountains they would soon be traveling into. Straight ahead that cliff turned into a steep, rocky hill, slanted sharply instead of shooting straight upward into the night. To the left, a stand of thickly leafed trees hid small scurrying creatures from their eyes, but not their ears. The view had been much the same for the past several hours.
In his gut, Sian felt the weight of what was about to happen. He cared little for his own life, when weighed against the dire possibilities that Ciro’s reign would bring, but Ariana deserved better.
In the beginning he had been more than willing to sacrifice her to the greater good, but tonight he was certain the world would be a better place if Ariana Varden remained in it.
The enemy they had been waiting for appeared suddenly, but Ariana’s army had been so alert that the surprise did not cost them an insurmountable amount of time. Sian’s reaction was immediate. He drew his sword, as Ariana drew hers, and he placed himself between her and the men who rushed toward her.
Ciro’s army was primarily on foot, which gave Ariana and her sol
diers an advantage. Some of them were also strangely armed with weapons which did not stand a chance against expertly wielded weapons at the hands of trained sentinels. In that, at least, Lilia had been truthful. The attacking soldiers fell, and Sian saw that it was men, not monsters, who died on the narrow road. He watched one of Ariana’s soldiers fall, and then another, but he did not even think to rush to their aid. No, his place was here, beside Ariana. To the death, if need be.
“Shield!” he shouted.
She either ignored him or was unable to erect a magical shield in the chaos of battle. Enemy soldiers continued to attack her, and he saw no evidence of any enchanted protection.
Even though she was unable to erect the shield, Ariana fought well. Sian wondered if it was Diella who wielded the sword which answered the assault of one ill-prepared soldier after another. Her lessons, practical and magical, had not been in vain. When she was attacked by three soldiers from two sides, she fought not only with the sword in her hand but with a knife she magically plucked from the body of a fallen enemy soldier and sent hurtling toward the neck of the man who tried to attack her from behind. He knew it wasn’t at all easy to manipulate objects while fighting, but Ariana managed quite well.
Sian’s fight was much the same. The enemy came, and they fell, and more came. Ariana’s soldiers were reluctant to fight the women among Ciro’s soldiers, until a female monster brutally gutted one of the younger sentinels, a boy who had hesitated when faced with a female combatant. Someone shouted loudly, reminding them of Ariana’s words on that first morning. See with your hearts. After that, the others did not hesitate.
It seemed that the enemy was trying to lead Sian away from Ariana, and he had to fight to remain close enough to be of any assistance to her. He was unhorsed by two men who grabbed him from behind and yanked him to the ground, where he landed hard and continued to fight without pause.
Slowly, surely, the oddly armed soldiers created a rough circle around Ariana, but most of them kept their distance, as if they were protecting her... or separating her. She was still atop her gray horse, and they were primarily on foot. Perhaps that was why they did not move in.
A slice of alarm crept into Sian’s conscience. The soldiers, Ariana’s army, were being drawn farther away from her. The enemy soldiers who died so quickly and so well were leading them into the trees, down the road, up the road, even onto the cliffside, when they were unhorsed. The fighting continued without pause. It seemed the enemy was inexhaustible, and when one fell, two more appeared to take his... or her... place.
Suddenly Sian realized that he and Ariana were all but alone, surrounded by the bodies of the fallen enemy, surrounded by soldiers who continued to attack. The sentinels had been led away from their leader, fighting endlessly and well. He looked for Merin, for other experienced soldiers, wanting to shout for them to return to protect their leader, their sister, but they were all engaged in deadly battle.
Ariana was tiring. She was no longer able to lift a knife magically, but was now forced to rely on her adequate but less-than-spectacular skills as a swordsman. More of the enemy encircled her, some on foot and some on horses of their own. She was visibly slowing, and the newly arrived adversaries were fresh and hungry.
One tall man reached up and grabbed Ariana’s white trousers with a gnarly hand. He wrenched hard, and she tumbled from her horse, landing on the path hard and with a cry of pain. Already tired, she let loose of her sword when she hit the ground. It flew, landing too far away to be of any use to her. Seven soldiers gathered around her, smiling and wielding their blades—and one heavy, sharpened stick—with delight.
Sian fought off the two who threatened him, trying to work his way toward Ariana while they were doing their best to lead him away. Things had been happening too quickly and furiously for him to concentrate properly, but he tried to freeze the men who surrounded Ariana. He had never been able to affect more than one person at a time with his magic, but he had to try. Two became very still, but the others continued to threaten Ariana. He slowly worked his way toward her, swinging madly at the men who tried to stop him.
Ariana was lying on the ground, surrounded by those who meant to destroy her. Her head turned so that her eyes met Sian’s. She mouthed the words “I love you,” as if this were her last moment, her last statement.
They were only two, and could not defeat all the men who fought them. There were too many, and in the chaos his magic was not strong enough. But he would not stop, not until he reached Ariana. He would go into the Land of the Dead with her, if need be. He would kill as many of these soldiers as he could before they took his life.
The enemy soldiers could’ve ended Ariana’s life quickly, once she was on the ground and unarmed, but they didn’t. Instead they laughed and poked at her with their weapons, and one soldier held her in place with a dirty boot pressed into her white-clad belly. Sian used all his concentration to magically toss the sword aside when one enemy soldier moved the sharp tip too near Ariana’s throat.
Since Sian’s attention was on Ariana, he did not see or sense the soldier wielding a rock approach from the rear until it was too late. The enemy swung, the rock collided with his head, and he dropped as his legs gave out from under him.
A deep, calm voice said, “Don’t kill him. Not yet.”
Woozy and weaving on his knees, Sian turned his head to see Ciro, his half-brother, walking down the sharp incline of the rocky hill. Ciro was not alone. He half carried, half dragged Lilia. Was she a willing companion who could not handle the hill as easily as Ciro did, or was she a prisoner?
No, if they had taken the shortcut Lilia had suggested instead of this road Ariana knew, they would not have ridden into this trap.
Sian’s hands were quickly bound, and the rock-wielding soldier remained at his side. Without his hands, he was useless as a magician. The men he had frozen were no longer affected by his spell. If he could rise and loose the bonds...
As if the soldier knew what he was thinking, he kicked Sian to the ground and placed the toe of a dirty boot on his throat. A black dread washed over Sian. He was going to have to watch Ariana die, helpless and half dead and worthless to her and her cause.
He had never told her that he loved her. Never. Not because he didn’t, but because he was a coward who did not want to lose again. Burying one wife had been harder than he’d ever allowed anyone to know. Burying a child had been even harder. Hope was a dreadful thing, because in the end it was always yanked away when you least expected it.
“I do love you,” he said softly, wondering whether or not Ariana would hear him.
Perhaps she did. Restrained by seven of Ciro’s soldiers—Ciro’s Own, if he was correct—she smiled at him.
***
Ciro dragged the village slut toward the warrior in white, and his soldiers pulled the blonde to her feet. Her white uniform was no longer so purely white. It was stained with blood—hers and that of his Own—and dirt from the road she had been laying upon.
Her soul was pure white, as he had suspected it would be. Perhaps he couldn’t take her soul, but when the time was right, he could drink every drop of her blood.
He cast a glance at the enchanter, who lay on the road wounded and desperate and held in place by the boot of one of Ciro’s Own. His soul was not entirely white, but was nowhere near as dark as Fynnian’s had been. With time, he could be turned to darkness. Almost everyone could be turned, and many would be before this war was done.
Ciro held the girl from the village with one hand, which was fisted in her hair. She had come after him fiercely, as he had always imagined she would. It was amusing that she thought she could hurt him.
His soldiers held the warrior in white fast, so that she and the village whore were face to face. Seeing her this way, so close and real, Ciro remembered more of her. Her name was Ariana, and she was a witch. Why was she here? She did not have the strength to stop him.
“My lord,” one anxious soldier called to him. “Look.”
Ciro lifted his head and found, to his dismay, that those soldiers he had directed to separate Ariana from her sentinels were losing. Some of her men had fallen, but more survived and fought on. Soon they would notice that their leader was in trouble... not that they could save her. They could be an annoyance, however.
The enchanter moved quickly, twisting his long legs up to wrap about one leg of the man who restrained him.
Chamblyn easily flipped the soldier onto his back, and then he leapt to his feet. If he managed to free his hands, what Ciro needed to accomplish would become more difficult.
Chamblyn rushed toward him, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Dammit, Merin! She needs you!” The enchanter threw his body at one of the men who restrained Ariana.
Ciro was annoyed. This would have to be done more quickly than he’d like.
While the enchanter wrestled with one of the soldiers, who dragged the wizard away from the scene without killing him, as he had been ordered to do, Ciro yanked the girl from the village around so that she stood before him. He smiled at her, and she shuddered. She knew what he wanted, what he was about to take.
“You... you don’t have my permission,” she said, her voice shaking.
“I don’t need your permission.” He lowered his head and nipped at her slender throat.
“But you said my soul was pure and you could not take it without—”
“I lied.” He bit into her throat and immediately drained her of her gray soul. It filled him, satisfied him, alleviated his emptiness. Had she really thought herself pure? She’d stolen, she’d lied, she’d been unfaithful to the man she’d promised to marry. How could she have been so foolish as to believe that her soul was white?
Still reveling in the taste of her soul, he drank some of the girl’s blood. He did not drain her, however, he simply tasted. With his teeth still attached to her throat, with her blood still filling his mouth, he drew the dagger which hung from his belt, flipped it in his hand, and drove it into Ariana’s chest. He found her heart.
The enchanter shouted and freed himself from the two who restrained him. Over his shoulder, Ciro saw soldiers approaching, as well as Chamblyn. Some ran, while others remained on horseback. There were too many of them to take the chance of facing off here and now.
Children of the Sun Page 21
