BlackWing: First Ordinance, Book 3
Page 16
Do you know when they'll arrive?
I think tomorrow.
Are you in immediate danger?
No—he laughed and tossed me in the brig. I don't present a danger to him—in his estimation.
Then stay there for now—let him think we don't know. I'll arrange for our forces to meet him and the other ships when they arrive.
All right.
Clamping my feathers about me—it was cold in my small prison—I resolved to wait for rescue. I should have known better. Really.
Whip, Bleek's second-in-command, came for me. He demanded that I serve dinner to him and the crew, while they laughed and made fun of me. He'd informed Cayetes, too, of the apparent stowaway aboard the ship.
He could think of no other way I might have gotten there.
What he didn't realize was this—I knew where Cayetes was, now.
Zephili.
I informed Queen Lissa of that fact while Whip pulled me by a wing toward the ship's galley. At least my wings didn't hurt so much when someone pulled them. I reminded myself of that every time Whip jerked on it while we walked.
* * *
Le-Ath Veronis
Terrett
If I'd been with her, I would have killed anyone who touched her. Then I'd probably have been killed in return.
It made me sigh—and hope she stayed in the brig. I knew what kind of torture Cayetes' crew was capable of. I'd seen Bleek's handiwork too many times to count. Bel Erland had gone back to Vic'Law for Berel after the meeting was over with the Mundians. All three of us now sat in morose silence in Queen Lissa's arboretum, contemplating Quin's danger.
All of us had relied on a bond that so obviously hadn't worked. I still couldn't puzzle that out in my mind.
"I just heard from Bree," Queen Lissa arrived and took a seat next to her grandson.
"What did she say, Gran?" Bel asked.
"She said she nullified the bond temporarily—so you wouldn't be tossed onto Bleek's ship while in the middle of a meeting with the people from Mundia. It was a hard choice and a delicate situation."
"So Quin is there by herself, because Mundia might be offended?" Bel rose and stalked toward the tall windows. Outside, Lissia and Casino City glittered in the constant twilight covering this half of Le-Ath Veronis.
"Honey, I don't think it's that simple," Lissa rose to follow him. She placed an arm around him when she reached his side and leaned her head against his shoulder.
For a moment, I felt the old desire for loving parents. I knew who my mother was; she'd sold me when I was five and watched as my tongue was cut out. I never knew who my father was. When I'd passed my first fifty years, I understood that loving parents would remain a dream for me.
I was Sirenali, though, so my father had to be Sirenali as well. I cursed him and my mother—thoroughly and silently as I watched grandmother and grandson share their fears and their affection atop a high palace.
* * *
Bel Erland
Yanzi brought Justis and Lafe to Gran's palace late that evening; if Quin's information was correct, then we could be needed on board BlackWing ships. I wanted nothing more than to thwart Cayetes' bid to take the refugees from Vogeffa II as well as those from New Fyris. Getting Quin to safety was foremost in my mind, however.
Cayetes felt he was entitled to the refugees from Vogeffa II. They weren't people to him—only fodder to feed his addiction to life. Dad and I had already had a conversation about warlocks talented and powerful enough to perform Cayetes' transferences—there were many. Of those, some hadn't been seen for years. If we could find the site of one transfer that hadn't been cleaned or disturbed, we might be able to perform a reverse spell to discover who'd cast it.
There'd been nothing left behind on Vogeffa I; we'd already checked. This warlock was smart enough to remove any evidence so he couldn't be tracked, besides having at least one Sirenali at his elbow to hide him from those who held power.
Dad and Grampa already warned me about calling them if we found the warlock—in case their help was needed to contain him. As much as I wanted to take care of him myself, I understood the necessity and the logic behind their request.
"Would you like to visit Avii Castle?" Justis interrupted my thoughts. "Jurris wants to see me, so you may as well go with me if you'd like to see it. I imagine Gurnil would be happy to show the Crown Prince of Karathia through the place."
"Yes," I answered immediately. I'd take anything to relieve my worry for Quin and the thought that she could be at the mercy of terrible people.
"Good. Yanzi, Berel, Lafe and Terrett are coming, too; you'll be welcomed by my brother, as befits your station. I hear he's granted an interview with a journalist this morning, but we can see him immediately afterward."
"How is everything in Mundia?" I asked as I followed Justis toward the door. He'd found me moping in Gran's library; a hovercar would be waiting for us at the side door near the palace kitchen.
"Sal and Caylon have everything under control. They're providing body armor and extra weapons to the ASD agents there. I suggested bringing Jayna here, but Sal says not yet."
Nodding at Justis' statement, we walked down two flights of steps at a fast clip; Justis was military, after all, and used to commanding an army of winged troops. He wouldn't accept anything but my best effort—much like Sal and Caylon.
I admired him for that—that he could effortlessly take charge and set our pace. Dad and Grampa could do the same thing—just by walking into a room.
It took nearly an hour to reach the glass castle at a reasonable speed; we landed inside the bowl, where few outsiders were allowed to land. Terrett was amazed at the sheer size of the bowl, where orchards grew and sheep grazed.
"It amazing," Yanzi confirmed as we stepped out of the hovercar and looked about us. The walls of the outer castle rose high above us, and I couldn't help staring as we made our way toward a nearby door.
Just like the outside of the castle, the inside walls were lined with terraces where grass, trees and flower gardens grew.
Yanzi is correct—I'm amazed. I've never seen anything like this, Terrett marveled.
"The legend says that Liron built it from the sand of the seabed beneath it in a day," Justis shrugged. "I wasn't there, so I can't say for sure."
"Has it always been this color—of the sea, with other colors mixed in?" I asked.
"It tends to reflect much of what is around it—appearing more gray on stormy days," Justis said. "I like to fly about it on clear days, when the blue-green shines best."
"I fly around too—if possible," Yanzi agreed.
* * *
Killshot
Quin
Three of my feathers littered the floor—pulled from my wings by cruel men who thought it funny.
I set plates before them; roasted fowl with root vegetables in a rich sauce. I was elbowed away as often as not after setting a plate down—it reminded me greatly of my time in the guard's dining hall of Avii Castle.
A Sirenali of perhaps twenty years sat silent in a corner—on the floor, which wasn't comfortable. Thin he was, and sickly, with knees drawn to his chin and his arms wrapped about himself in a struggle to warm a frail body.
The moment I served the last plate of food and received an elbow in my ribs for my efforts, I made my way toward the Sirenali's corner.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Bleek had arrived and held me back with one of his four hands.
"He's sick—I can help him," I breathed. "Please allow me to help him, Master Bleek."
"See, she knows what to call me," Bleek chuckled and let me go. "He's dying, but sure, if you think you can help, go ahead. It'll save me having to put a bullet through his brain."
I was already glowing when I knelt beside the Sirenali; something in his genetic makeup was skewed and causing his body to die. Glowing brighter and bringing all my talent to bear, I set about fixing what had gone wrong with the poor soul.
* * *
After a brief examination by the ship's doctor, he was pronounced healthy.
He couldn't speak, just as Terrett couldn't, but he eagerly nodded his thanks to me before Bleek hauled me away.
"I can heal the sick," I mumbled, staring at my shoes. One was covered in gravy, when one of Bleek's men shoved me while I carried plates of food. My body was beginning to ache—none of the punches, pinches or blows had been gentle.
"What happened to LaFranza? Is he dead?"
"No. I healed him," I admitted. "The last I saw him, he was having dinner with friends in Mundia."
"Mundia? On Vic'Law?" Bleek's voice had gone quiet. Deadly.
"Yes, Master Bleek."
"We'll come back to that. Come with me," he grabbed my wing again and dragged me out of his quarters toward the freight-vator. The ride down to the freight deck seemed to take forever, with my wing held in Bleek's hard grip. I worried that he'd snap bones if he didn't let me go soon.
I was pulled relentlessly across the deck toward a door on the far side. Bleek opened it with a handscan and shoved me inside.
I'd seen it in his face already; here was the reality. His son lay in a glass-topped coffin with a heavy, jeweled base. A large, formidable lock on the outside prevented anyone from opening it to interrupt the spell on the boy.
Bleek's son had been placed in stasis by a warlock who couldn't care less about either. It was merely a gesture to keep Bleek in line and in service to Vardil Cayetes. The coffin, though—the same warlock hadn't spelled the lock sealing the coffin.
Someone else had done that.
"Can you heal him?" Bleek's voice was rough as he pointed toward his son.
"I have to bring him out of the coffin and place my hands on him—like I did the other one upstairs," I said. "I think the spell on the lock prevents that."
"You can see the spell?" Bleek demanded, roughly swinging me around to face him. This time, I heard one of my wing bones snap and I cried out from the pain of it. At least he let me go when I dropped to the floor, shuddering in agony.
"How the bloody fuck do we get him out of there, then?" Bleek shouted. He was only beginning to understand that the boy was never meant to come out of the coffin. He was trapped in there forever, unless the one who spoke the proper words removed the spell on the lock. There was one other possibility, but I didn't want to impose on Queen Lissa for a criminal's child, as much as I wanted to save him.
After he'd broken my wing, I didn't want to help Bleek, either. That's when the vision hit me. Before I knew it, I was standing and grasping one of Bleek's hands in mine while latching onto a handle of the coffin with the other. The Orb, which appeared in a blast of light, flung us away from the Killshot.
* * *
Avii Castle
Bel Erland
"We'll have a peek into the throne room where the interview is taking place," Master Scholar Gurnil smiled as he led us down a hallway. Justis had delivered us to him, first, before going to the throne room himself—by leaping off the library terrace and flying there.
Our journey would be a much slower one.
I'd imagined the inside of the castle to be darker. I was surprised to find it well-lit with solar lights overhead and at knee-level through the halls. The halls were wide enough for three to walk side by side comfortably; the one who'd built it had certainly taken wings into consideration in the design.
I realized that Gurnil was more than curious about the interview and that's why he was taking us to the throne room first. I couldn't fault him for it; I, too, was curious, since Jurris seldom granted interviews.
It took ten minutes of determined walking by the Blue Wing scholar to reach our destination. My first look inside the Avii throne room revealed a woman journalist, who was quite pretty. A hover-mic floated over King Jurris' head as he answered questions for her. Nearby, two crewmembers watched and listened to ensure the image and sound were of good quality for broadcasting.
Except one of them wasn't doing his job. Instead of staring at the comp-vid images on the tablet he held, he watched someone who stood not far from Jurris' side—his young son, Liron. Liron's mother, Wimla, stood behind her son, her hands on his shoulders to keep the boy from running to his father.
I glanced back to the inattentive crewmember, who now wore a hungry look as he gazed at the boy.
Yanzi growled as I raised my hand.
The images from my visit to the Avii throne room will always play in my mind, as clear and crisp as the day they occurred. The camera crewman dropped the tablet and pulled a pistol from a pocket at the same time.
Yanzi flung himself forward. Jurris, seeing where the gun was aimed, also flung himself from the Avii throne.
So many things happened simultaneously, and I recall all of them with such horror-ridden clarity.
A shot was fired at the boy. Jurris and Justis leapt. Yanzi also leapt and turned to lion snake in a blink.
A flash of light.
A four-armed giant.
Quin's cry as she fell.
A glass coffin sliding across the floor and upending the one who'd fired at Liron, turning him in a somersault in the air before he crashed to the marble floor.
Justis' movement to pull Liron and Wimla away.
The bullet hitting Jurris in the forehead as he shoved himself in front of his child.
The shriek of the cameraman as he died in midair.
Yanzi's capture of the fallen Jurris, who was already dead—Yanzi had to force himself back to humanoid to catch the King's body.
If Jurris had allowed his brother to protect his child, he would have lived; Justis pulled the boy and his mother out of the bullet's path a hair's breadth before it would have hit its mark.
Jurris, understandably worried about his child, had also gone to his rescue.
Jurris died protecting his son.
Quin was up and weeping over Jurris' body; she couldn't bring back the dead. She could only heal those who hadn't crossed that threshold. One of her wings was obviously broken, and my guess of the one responsible fell upon the four-armed giant who blinked in confusion around him.
"You will stay where you are," Lafe held a blade at the Blevakian's throat. It didn't surprise me at all that the Falchani carried a hidden blade; I'd have been more surprised if he hadn't.
Justis stalked toward the one who'd shot his brother while the journalist and her soundman cowered away from his anger. Lifting the dead man by his shirt collar, he pulled the body off the floor and shook it before tossing it across the floor as if it weighed little.
Wimla and Liron wept in a corner; Gurnil, who'd stood in shock as the incident occurred before his eyes, gasped as we watched the Orb appear over Justis' head. Justis' wing color changed in seconds—from black to red. He was oblivious to it as he began to stalk the journalist and her remaining crew.
Gran? I sent. We need you.
* * *
Quin
Daragar came to repair my wing.
Bleek was held in a cell in the Avii dungeon, his son's coffin left just outside it so he could keep his eye on the child. Somewhere, in an orbit around Harifa Edus, several ships arrived to take Killshot and six other ships owned by Vardil Cayetes.
All those ships bore the BlackWing name and logo. For all Vardil knew, he'd been attacked by a newly formed crime syndicate—named after me. Justis, still in the throne room and in mourning while Queen Lissa and Gurnil attempted to help, refused to see any of the Avii Council.
Gurnil had sent news of the Orb's appearance and the wing color change almost immediately. That meant that the castle mourned Jurris' death and breathed a relieved sigh that they still had a Red Wing King.
I had things to tell Justis and Quee
n Lissa; that I'd killed the one who shot Jurris. I'd made his brain explode by enlarging the cells. I admit to being so angry when I saw him and his intent to kill Liron at Cayetes' command that I'd taken his life with barely a thought.
I blamed the Orb, too, for telling Cayetes that it—he—was Liron.
Too many things were becoming clear, after surviving in murky mystery for years. Some of those things I wasn't ready to say, yet.
Yet.
My body was covered in bruises, thanks to Bleek's crew. At least all of them were sitting in cells, now, although a few had died attempting to escape.
Whip, unfortunately, was still alive—he'd escaped before the BlackWing ships arrived to take the others.
While Daragar ran his hands over my nude body, healing the worst of my injuries after healing the broken wing, I considered what I ought to do next.
Amlis, Rodrik and those from Vogeffa II would likely not know that they'd been marked by Cayetes. Perhaps Lissa should tell them so they'd be on guard against future attacks.
Breathing a sigh, I allowed my head to fall on Daragar's shoulder. He hummed gently as he continued his work.
* * *
Lissa
"I met him on the castle tour boat. He said he wanted to see the inside of the castle," Trese Herak wept. "He said he was from Refizan."
Translation—she'd slept with him and allowed him to convince her to take him as a member of her crew when she did her interview. Probably planned ahead of time, but I'd have to check with Quin, first.
I also had questions about the bastard's death—Karzac reported that his brain exploded. I understood Quin's grief at not being able to heal Jurris, but dead was dead and I knew of only one person and six Larentii who could reverse that. They hadn't appeared, so Jurris' resurrection wasn't to be.
Instead, the Orb had chosen to anoint Justis, which, in my mind, was more than fair. My concern, however, was that he'd be tied to Avii Castle from now on, instead of following Quin.
I understood being tied to duty.
Too well.
* * *
Quin
"Justis?" I walked softly into his old bedroom, where he sat on the bed, his head bowed.