“I will, I promise. I just lost my concentration and didn’t see the bolt until it was too late.” She saw Avrid scowling at her again.
“Who distracted you? That was a stupid mistake to make, as you can see.”
The way he asked, the fact that he said who, not what, drew Leisha up short, and she did not notice his lecture or tone. Because it had been a presence that she felt, a who, not a what, that diverted her attention. As the bolt raced towards her, she had felt someone behind it. “I don’t know who it was.” She scowled. “But I think he did it on purpose. To distract me from the quarrel. It felt like a hand was steering it right at me.”
“They’ve sent a strong Cursed onto the battlefield then. Edvard likely found him and Gerolt commanded him to kill you that way. I’ve seen it used before.”
Anger flared in Leisha’s eyes and her cheeks flushed red. “They could do that? See me and guide the bolt straight at me? Could I send one after Gerolt?”
Shaking his head, Avrid said, “I doubt it. You don’t know how, and you’re not that adept at moving things.”
Disappointed, she made a face, but knew he was right. She could shove tiny objects around a table, but the fine control required to nudge a speeding crossbow bolt across a battlefield at a target still eluded her. Then an idea occurred to her. “Can I kill Gerolt from this distance? Or remove Edvard’s compulsion?”
“As I said before, they’re too far away for even you to reach,” Avrid said, shaking his head. Even after all their lessons, she never learned. “Don’t you see? Even Edvard isn’t strong enough to do much from this distance. If he was, Gerolt would have ordered him to attack us.”
Leisha thought about that as she stared out over the battlefield, her eyes losing focus. Recalling the lessons with Avrid, she remembered the feeling of the tether tightening around her throat as she tested the limits, remembered the blackness taking hold of her. Then she remembered the spark, the small flash of intuition that tempted her to try harder.
Now, closing her eyes, Leisha called on the well of strength she held at bay all morning. It sprang up, anxious to be set free. Rising up and racing through her veins, it told her what she already knew. Hope and excitement blossomed on her face. “I can do it,” she said with confidence. “I can reach that far, I’m sure of it. And I can pick Edvard out of a crowd. He entered my mind and showed me his memories. I know him and Gerolt will be nearby.”
“Leisha, you can’t. You’ve never mastered this, and it’s far beyond the reach of your tether,” Avrid warned again. “Don’t you remember how it felt when we practiced?”
Zaraki pointed over the battlefield, and they could all see their forces driving deep into the Deojrin lines. “You don’t have to do this. You’re hurt and we’re winning. You’ve done it. Look.”
When she looked down over the battlefield, Leisha’s heart leapt. Sarika had been right. What the three of them could not accomplish on their own, seventeen former Cursed slaves now set about completing.
Chaos reigned throughout the battlefield. It appeared that some of the Deojrin had regrouped, but the rally came too late and the mercenary company belonging to Isak scythed through the remaining enemy nearest the foot of the ridge. From the top of a smaller rise to the north, the heavy horses prepared for another charge. More mercenaries, marksmen, and footmen harassed the Deojrin from the east.
“I can’t let Gerolt get away. The other army is still there, larger and more dangerous. If I can just find Edvard, I can kill them both.”
Avrid shrugged and felt how his confidence annoyed Leisha. He knew she would not listen. “Try if you like. I’ll be here to catch you when you faint,” he said, sounding smug and sure she would fail.
***
Standing in the summer sun, Leisha closed her eyes and flung herself out over the ridge, unsure exactly how to accomplish this, but knowing it would work. All the practice, all the time spent racing over the camp hunting for one person or another, all the subtle clues settled together and she knew. She understood how to move past the leash that bound her back to her body. Stretching it thin, she could travel further than Avrid imagined and strike Edvard and Gerolt, no matter where they hid.
As she hovered over the battlefield, she listened for the presence she knew would be there. Somewhere. She just had to do as Avrid tried to instruct her. Listen, she told herself. Unless Edvard had died, she would sense him. Almost like a whisper, or a breeze caressing her, she felt him. Ahead and to the east, though she still could not tell exactly where.
She hunted, prowling like a wolf. Her eyes opened, shifting around rapidly, searching for something. Instead of the tree and the people who hovered anxiously around her, she saw the ground below her, saw the death and slaughter as her army punished their enemy. Her heart soared as she saw they would win the battle, but she would win the war if she could force herself to listen. Then she would find Gerolt and Edvard.
Another quarrel arced towards their position and this time Avrid saw its approach. He shifted his consciousness to try to bat it away. At this distance, it would take only the smallest effort to nudge the thing off course and away from them.
Time slowed. Twice he tried and failed to move the thing as it rushed toward Leisha—straight for her again. He felt the hand guiding it and the triumph behind it. The mind reader knew how close he had come the first time.
Avrid tried to call out, to warn her. Reaching out to touch her thoughts, he despaired. As she raced across the battlefield searching for her prey, she would never have time to save herself.
Sitting in her mind, Avrid watched as she split her attention and called a small reserve of power. It battered the feeble attempt to kill her away and the quarrel fell harmlessly to the ground below. Then she struck the Cursed that sent the bolt after her, mocking him.
Foolish, Leisha thought, entering the assassin and snuffing out the flame of his life. But as he collapsed to the ground, she saw the line of a tether, a blazing trail that led back to another mind reader. Edvard. She knew the touch and feel of his mind, would always know it.
Back on the hill, laughter, cool and vicious, jumped from her lips as she realized she did not need to listen for Edvard. He had just given her the means to find him. The bright line she saw would lead her to him and then to Gerolt. She had power they could not imagine, and now she knew where to find them.
Avrid opened his eyes as Leisha’s power receded, curling around her like a watchful dog waiting for a command from its master. “She shouldn’t be able to do this,” he murmured to no one in particular, and scrubbed his hands over his face.
***
Following the trail left behind, Leisha found Edvard to the south, under the edge of a striped pavilion, but she saw no sign of his master. She cast about, expanding her mind, searching frantically, even as she realized the mighty Kirous Visarl had fled the field as the tide of battle turned against him.
Dismayed, she turned her attention to Edvard and found a broken man crouched in the dirt, a tool, abused and abandoned. Gerolt had driven him to exhaustion, demanding more and more effort, far beyond what anyone should have been expect to give, and Edvard could not refuse even as he neared collapse. Though she longed for revenge, Leisha knew it would not come from killing this pathetic soul.
Diving into his mind cost her almost nothing. Edvard tried to stop her, but with a feeble and pitiful attempt. His compulsion lay in tatters, frayed and worn by effort and time spent in her lands. But not enough to guarantee he would go free without succumbing to the rage. She did not want him killed by her soldiers.
The color and texture of his mind caused memories of their first meeting to rush forward. She wanted to shy away, but the power reminded her this time she acted as the aggressor, invading him, overrunning his defenses. Sleep, she told him, calming his panic.
As Edvard faded away, his last thought flickered dimly. Leisha almost missed it as he remembered the last conversation with his master. Find her. Kill her. She saw the Kirous Visarl
get on his horse.
Fury overcame her. How dare he threaten me? How dare he? she raged.
Withdrawing, Leisha shook off the last of Avrid’s warnings about the tether and distance. Nothing would stop her, nothing would confine her. More power uncoiled itself from where it lay, waiting for her call. It welled up inside and she felt her mind expanding, taking it all in. She remembered the day at Cheylm when, in a moment of panic, she found Zaraki without even trying. At last, she understood Avrid’s instruction.
She stilled her mind and listened.
Leisha listened to the wind as it bore the thoughts of thousands of minds to her. All around her, they danced and spun, spiraling in on each other. Eddies of fear and joy, the terror of the dying and wounded all flowed over her as she embraced the power she never quite understood.
Caressed by thoughts from friends and foe alike, Leisha oriented herself to reach back to the hill where her body waited. Gerolt has fled, she told Zaraki. Send men south to a tree with a multicolored tent and they’ll find Edvard there.
My love, I can stop this. I can win this for us. Her mind’s voice rang out strong and triumphant. Because there she heard the murmur, the barest wisp of thought. Because now she knew where to find the man who wanted to torture her to death for a fluke of birth.
Anger and outrage flowed into her as the power urged her on. No more. No more fear, no more running, no more hiding and praying for safety. Gerolt killed her people, turned friends against her, drove her from her home. Like a cat with its kill, he toyed with her life. If he survived today, he would continue to hunt her. He would never stop.
She would be his plaything no longer.
The bloodlust returned, and she let it take her this time. Cut loose, Leisha craved revenge. The power raced behind her, pushing her, cajoling her to reach further, faster. She obliged. Awestruck at what she could do, she cavorted like a dolphin in the surf, surging forward, springing up and plunging back down as she sped towards her quarry.
She found Gerolt with ease and her lips turned up in a predatory smile.
Back on the hill, Zaraki saw it and remembered the night she learned to kill. There had been no mercy for Fellnin, the man trying to rape her. Now she would certainly show none for this victim.
Outside a pavilion, Gerolt signaled to several others, urging them towards horses that waited nearby. He’s running, Zaraki, she said, her voice full of hatred. Killing all of the Deojrin army leaders here would strike a blow before facing the larger northern forces. But fatigue kept pace with her now, and she knew she needed to retreat before long. Tell Andelko. At the northern end of their camp. It looks like he’s trying to gather enough for an escort. They’re all there together.
One death would suffice, and Leisha felt no remorse, no guilt as she plunged into Gerolt, gratified as he realized who had found him. You should never have come here, she said. These are my lands, my towns, my people, my crown and my kingdom.
Remembering how Avrid had attacked her at Cheylm, Leisha lashed out. Inflicting pain, she took revenge for Otokar as Gerolt collapsed under her onslaught, writhing on the ground. Over and over, she sent tongues of flames racing down his limbs and over his skin. Beg me, she taunted. Beg me the way they did when you set fire to them. Beg me the way you imagined I would, night after night in your bed.
Memories of the terror that consumed her in Embriel flowed from her mind, crashing into him, wave after wave until fear became the totality of his existence.
You underestimated me, thinking I could never find you, never reach you, never touch you here in your own camp. Now, too late, you learn I’m far more than you ever guessed, she mocked, even as the Kirous Visarl, the Butcher of the Cursed, clutched at the empty air with rigid fingers. Through his eyes, she watched as his men abandoned him, fleeing on horseback. Alone, Leisha felt him twisting in fear. Your angry, bloodthirsty god? I’m sending you to meet him, Gerolt. Die, knowing you failed him.
***
Edvard slept for a while, a snake without its fangs, but Leisha could not know that with his compulsion still in place, there would be no rest for him. Before long, it roused him. Finish this, it breathed into his mind.
Exhausted, his body yearned for the sleep the Tahaerin queen bestowed on him. But Gerolt’s final orders before retreating to his command tent rang in his thoughts, forcing his mind to drive his body on. Kill her, he said, without needing to embellish or give more instructions.
Edvard could not disobey. Inside, he despaired, always imagining he would find a way to free himself from the compulsion. No matter how many prayers they forced him to whisper, or how many times they drove him to his knees before their priests, he refused to believe his gifts made him evil. Of course, he could do nothing to rebel, to fight back.
He did not want to kill the Tahaerin queen, but he felt his mind take over his body once more. Walking to the horse tied outside the pavilion, his hands moved, plucking up the reins and forcing him to lift his exhausted body into the saddle. He heard his mouth cluck the horse into motion and begged for forgiveness as he moved down to the battlefield.
When he could see the Tahaerin flags on the hill clearly, he stopped and his mind reached out. On the western side of the ridge overlooking the battlefield, he found two mind readers with the feel and color of women. In his state, he could not tell them apart, and though he knew the best course would be to retreat and gather himself, the constraint drove him on. Gerolt’s order said only to kill, it did not allow him any decision-making in the process. Exhausted and confused, he chose the one he thought most likely to be the pretty queen.
Stretched to the very edge of his endurance and the range his cursed abilities allowed him to reach, Edvard struck. He felt no resistance to his attack, as if she were too distracted to sense him. With the last of his strength, he stopped her heart and collapsed, falling from the horse in a heap on the ground.
***
When Leisha told Zaraki to find Andelko, he sent a runner with the message. Shading his eyes, he could see the Lord Constable and his marshals standing along the ridge watching the battle entering its final stages.
Signal flags went up as Andelko recalled some of the riders, and orders went out that sent them after the retreating Deojrin commanders.
“How do things look from over there?” Andelko asked the boy as he turned to head back. “Never mind, I’ll come with you and look for myself. We’re mostly done here. Vially, Ladvik, I’m going to the other side,” he told his marshals, wanting to be with his friends as the battle wound down.
As he and his guards drew closer, he saw Leisha standing stiff and motionless near the lone tree. A dark crimson stain began near her shoulder and ran down her side, while a bandage peeked through a hole torn in the fabric of her dress. “What the hell happened?” Andelko demanded, horrified that the rest of them all stood by so casually. “Why is she still here?”
Ani held up her hands, trying to reassure him. “It’s fine, really. Avrid did something and Jarden says it’s fine for her to do this. She insisted—”
“Of course she insisted,” he snapped, glaring at Zaraki, wondering how he could have permitted this. “This is over. Avrid and the rest can finish this. Get her off the hill and back to camp.”
From the corner of his eye, Andelko saw motion and turned to see a body crumple to the flattened grass at his feet. He froze for an instant, shocked and unable to understand. What could hurt any of them now? They had won.
Then, coming to his senses, he dropped to his knees to check Ani for wounds. He looked down and saw her eyes staring up at him while her chest lay still, no breath filling it.
“No,” he said, and touched his fingers to her neck. “No,” he whispered, refusing to believe this.
Standing, Andelko lifted her limp form and shook her body, trying to force it to life. “Not now, not like this,” he said.
Blood
Finding no more easy targets and nearing exhaustion, Avrid withdrew from battle to let those mind reader
s they freed earlier finish this. He shook to clear his head and reorient himself. On the battlefield below, the Deojrin were in full retreat now with the Tahaerin forces pursuing without mercy. It was a slaughter, though he could see the soldiers tried to leave the Cursed unmolested. He stretched his hands over his head and stood watching the scene before him until a choked sob caught his attention.
“She’s not breathing,” he heard someone cry. “Someone do something,” the voice implored, and Avrid finally took note.
Turning from the ridge, he saw the tableau—people standing motionless, their faces masks of shock as they stared at Andelko holding Aniska’s body tight against his chest. Her arms fell limply to her sides and her head hung back, red hair spilling out of its braid.
No one moved. To Avrid’s annoyance, they just stood there, watching like dull-witted children. Why had they not come to him? With no wounds visible, he could guess what had happened.
“Put her down,” he said, pushing Jan out of the way as he rushed forward.
“Go to hell, Avrid,” Andelko snarled at him, wanting to blame someone for this. Someone had to be at fault.
“Put her down before it’s too late,” the minder reader commanded. “You might drop her when she comes back.”
The others stared at him, stupidly refusing to understand anything he had tried to teach them for the past few months. Rolling his eyes and sighing, he explained, “If I can stop a heart, I can certainly start one.”
Andelko did as Avrid said, laying Aniska’s body down in the trampled grass and dirt.
***
Her mind lay as a pale imitation of its former self. The colors and sounds had vanished, replaced by a dreadful silence. Though in corners, Avrid still sensed flashes and flutters of life.
Familiar with the landscape of her mind from all the time he spent eavesdropping on her, he moved through the eerie blankness. In life, he found the heart such a simple thing to affect. The smallest nudge in the wrong direction could hopelessly disrupt its rhythm. Of course, he could say the same when nudging in the other direction. He sparked her heart, commanding it to beat again.
As Dragons from Sleep (The Tahaerin Chronicles Book 2) Page 45
