Diya got out of his chair and dropped down on one knee. Mythril joined him, though with a touch of reluctance. He’d killed before, and he didn’t enjoy it, even when it was necessary.
“Leave as soon as you’re able,” said Horace. “I’ll see you both when you arrive back.”
***
The rebel base was even smaller and more unassuming than what Mythril had been expecting. It was a single old barn in the outskirts of the countryside, off the beaten path and impossible to find without directions. He and Diya had left their rune sleds behind at the nearest town, and had traveled on foot for the past day and a half as discreetly as they could manage.
“Let’s just get this over with,” muttered Diya.
“We aren’t going to storm in without watching for a while, first,” said Mythril. “They might be more capable than they seem.”
“They might be,” said Diya. “Or they might be like the rest of the abolitionists. Desperate, poorly equipped, and trained in their ideals instead of combat.”
“We wait,” said Mythril. “We’ll move in when the moment is suitable, and not a second before.”
Diya rolled his eyes at him but issued no further objections. It was late in the afternoon, and the two of them watched the barn while lying prone on their stomachs, hidden by the glare of the setting sun.
They didn’t have to wait for long. A tall man dressed in a stained cotton shirt and green overalls came out of the barn and made his way into the trees carrying an ax. Mythril shot a glance over at Diya and slowly nodded his head.
Diya stood up and closed his eyes in concentration. Mythril watched as several waves of light flashed over his body in quick succession. Diya was a physicalist, born with a mystica that allowed him to use spells that buffed and enhanced his own body.
“Which ones did you just cast?” asked Mythril.
“Muscle Empowerment, Skin Hardening, and Reflex Enhancement,” said Diya.
“You’re going all out, then?” said Mythril.
“What can I say?” said Diya. “Your caution is contagious.”
Mythril drew his own sword, the Hawk Blade he’d spent the better part of six months designing the enchantment for. He took the lead, heading for the barn door, while Diya watched the forest in the direction the man in the overalls had disappeared off into.
A shout came from within the barn, and half a dozen men stormed out. All of them were armed, and two of them wore chainmail, shields, and helmets. Mythril gritted his teeth and moved to stand a little closer to Diya, knowing that the first move of the rebels would be to surround them.
“Can you start us off with one of your enchantment tricks?” asked Diya.
Mythril nodded. He focused his essence into one of his Tremor Boots, another artifact that he’d slaved over for many long nights. He stomped his foot hard against grass, triggering the magic within them. Most of the men were instantly knocked off their feet, and the ones who weren’t still lost their balance.
He and Diya charged at the same time. Diya’s buffs let him move faster than Mythril, and he’d already slammed his sword through the stomach of one of the abolitionists by the time Mythril reached them.
Mythril slashed at one of the men still on the ground, but his attack was easily knocked to the side. He fell back a pace as the man hurried to his feet, and the two of them exchanged a quick series of parries that Mythril got the worse end of. He wasn’t an expert swordsman, a fact underscored by his opponent’s final flourish, which knocked his weapon out of his hand.
The rebel let out a shout of triumph and rushed forward to deliver the final blow. Mythril extended his hand outward, willing his Hawk Blade to shift forms into bird form. His weapon flew back to him, stopping to peck Mythril’s opponent’s face on the way and distracting him.
One of the other rebels came at Mythril from the side. Mythril pushed his essence into his Decoy Cloak, stepping to the side as three duplicates of him appeared in different, nearby places. The rebel hesitated, giving Mythril time to grab his Hawk Blade from the air and begin attacking again.
He took down both of his opponents in a quick series of slashes. Diya had handled the rest of them, and the two of them both had bloody blades in the silent aftermath of the fight.
“Barn looks empty,” said Diya.
“I’ll make sure it is,” said Mythril. “Can you handle the one in the woods on your own?”
Diya nodded. “If we hurry, we can be back in the capital by tomorrow morning.”
“Let’s make it so,” said Mythril.
Mythril headed into the barn, slowing as he took in the space on the other side. It was lit by candles instead of essence lights, and they were arrayed across the floor in a seemingly random pattern. A few bedrolls were lying out to the right of the door, along with various bags and discarded clothing.
There was a divider in the center of the barn. Mythril slowed to a stop as he approached it, hearing a rustling a noise. A figure stepped out into the open, a girl wearing a clean white gown. She had brown hair and a pretty face, though her short stature and the curves of her physique instantly told him that she was a Hume slave, rather than a Sai.
Mythril pointed his sword at her, and she fell to her knees without a word. She stared at him with intense green eyes, not looking away even as he took a step and brought the tip of his blade within a few inches of her neck.
“Don’t kill me,” whispered the woman. “At least until you’ve heard what I have to say.”
She was young, barely an adult, and there was something about her that reminded him of Evastria. Mythril exhaled through his teeth, feeling his resolve fading faster than he could keep hold of it. The girl was still looking at him, staring into the face of death with a shocking amount of confidence.
“What were you doing here?” asked Mythril.
The girl didn’t answer for a couple of seconds.
“I was looking for you, Lord Mythril,” she said, in an unflinching voice.
Mythril lowered his sword, and then sheathed it. He heard the sound of approaching footsteps and turned to find Diya entering the barn behind him.
“I got the one in the woods,” said Diya. “Did you find anything of…?”
He trailed off as he caught sight of Mythril and the girl.
“No,” said Mythril. “Should we call in an investigation team to do a thorough search, though?”
“Why is she still alive, Myth?” asked Diya.
“She’s just a slave,” said Mythril. “There’s no need to kill her.”
“She isn’t dressed like a slave,” said Diya. “The abolitionists pride themselves on trampling upon the natural order. She was probably closer to an equal of the Sai in the group.”
“Perhaps,” said Mythril. “Either way, I don’t see the point.”
“The Emperor gave us an order, Mythril,” said Diya.
“And we followed it through,” he said. “I see no reason for us to waste a perfectly good slave.”
“You and your Trium blessed conscience,” muttered Diya. “So be it. I won’t mention her. But you’d best make sure that you know what you’re doing.
***
Mythril stood in the Emperor’s audience chamber, hands clasped behind his back. It was the first time he’d been called there in an official capacity in years, since before he’d been a proper adult and one of Horace’s close confidants.
“You handled the situation far quicker than I’d expected you to,”
“Thank you,” said Mythril. He and Diya had come straight back to the capital afterward. Diya had reported to the Emperor ahead of him, as it had taken Mythril a few hours to get the slave settled in his estate without drawing undue attention.
“Did anything unexpected come up?” asked Emperor Horace.
Mythril hesitated for the briefest second before giving a small shake of his head.
“Diya told me all about the details of the fight,” said Emperor Horace. “Along with something I find most hard to believ
e.”
“Did he, now?” asked Mythril.
“He says that neither of you took as much as a scratch, even though you were outnumbered by more than three to one,” said Emperor Horace. “I already have my personal bard ironing out the details of a song to commemorate the occasion. Well done, Lord Mythril.”
***
He found the slave girl in the servant’s showers. Evastria had already been asleep when he’d returned to the estate, and he’d given most of the other servants and guards the night off, leaving only those he trusted most for the sake of keeping his new slave’s arrival a secret.
She was drying off when he stepped into the bathing chamber. Mythril politely averted his eyes, but he could feel her gaze on him as she ran the towel over her naked body. She didn’t seem afraid. Though she’d been completely silent on the way back to the capital, she hadn’t resisted or reacted when Mythril had brought her into his home and explained her new circumstances to her.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
He turned to look at her, and the girl stared back with those piercing green eyes. One of her breasts was completely exposed, and he tried not to let his reaction to her flawless pale skin and pink nipple show on his face as he forced himself to look away again.
“Rachel,” she said.
“Rachel, milord. People will grow suspicious of your origin if you don’t learn to use the proper honorifics.”
“My apologies,” said Rachel. “Though something tells me you care little for formalities, yourself. I’ve read your writing. I know that you aren’t a fool, Mythril.”
“Oh?” He chuckled a little. “Is that so?”
“You’re one of the few people with the power to make a difference in the coming years,” said Rachel. “I think you can see how wrong, and unjust the Empire is in its current state.”
“I’m not a loyalist, despite my influence,” said Mythril. “If you expect me to argue for the merits of slavery and the birth system, prepare to be disappointed. I am loyal to my Emperor, but I hold my own beliefs.”
“That’s part of the reason why I wanted to find you so badly,” said Rachel.
“Part of the reason?” asked Mythril. “What’s the rest of it, then?”
He suddenly felt a little foolish for the mercy he’d shown her, given the strange fixation she seemed to have for him. It was clear that she’d been indoctrinated with a version of the rebel’s populist ideology, and given how beautiful she was, had perhaps been recruited by them as a spy or informant.
“Do you know why the Cursed Coast carries the name that it does?” she asked.
Mythril shrugged. He glanced at her for a quick second, looking away when he noticed the potent combination of her determined expression and open, intoxicating nudity.
“It was destroyed by an ancient civilization,” said Mythril. “A bunch of old ruins and nothing more. Even the soil was rendered infertile.”
“More than just ruins,” she said. “Remnants of the past. Mythril, I’m not here at anyone’s behest. I came to find you because I recognize your genius, and I’ve found something on the coast that I think only you will be able to understand.”
“You’re talking about a lost enchanting artifact, aren’t you?” asked Mythril. “It’s almost like you’re reading from a script. A beautiful woman, promising powerful, forgotten enchantments.”
“If you understood the scope of what I want to show you, your tone would be much different,” said Rachel. “Some of what I’ve found, if brought to fruition, could change the world.”
“Which begs the question why you, as a rebel cooperator, would attempt to involve one of the Emperor’s trusted advisors,” he said.
“I believe that the potential of some of the designs I’ve found will make slavery obsolete,” said Rachel. “That’s why I’m here, Mythril. Milord. Because I’ve found a way to end this conflict without violence.”
Mythril shook his head, suddenly finding it hard to keep his incredulity in check.
“This must be some sort of jest,” he said. “At least, I sorely hope it is. If you truly believe what you’re saying, I have to question whether you’re of sound mental state to serve in my… Hey, where are you going?”
Rachel walked past him, still wearing only a towel. She pulled her hand away when Mythril reached for it. He hesitated for a moment before finding the patience to humor the girl for a short while longer.
She continued down the hallway, around the corner, and through the door into Mythril’s enchanting laboratory. The most recent model of his prototype stone golem took up most of the floor space, and he still had a few of the blueprints for the rune patterns and ward placements left out on the desk. Rachel headed straight over to them.
“Hey!” shouted Mythril. “Don’t touch those. They aren’t for your eyes.”
She’d found a pen and begun scribbling. Mythril scowled and moved to stop her. He drew up short as he saw some of the changes she’d made to the document.
“Soul bonding,” said Rachel. “You’ve attempted it before, and even managed it in regard to a few lesser creatures. You need to treat this as a sentient construct rather than a mechanized weapon, if you hope to achieve what you’ve set out to do.”
“This is…” Mythril could hardly believe it, and shook his head even as he spoke. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. How did I not see this?”
“These runes are only a fraction of the legacy I’ve discovered,” said Rachel. “Mythril, I’ve found the workshop of the Nameless Enchanter.”
“Impossible,” said Mythril. “We have no evidence that the man ever even truly existed.”
Rachel nodded back toward the new runes she’d drawn on his blueprint. He grudgingly admitted to himself that if was she was spinning lies, she’d gone to great lengths in creating new forms of enchantments to support her deception.
“I come to you to ask for your help in finishing what would have been his greatest invention: the Soul Engine.” Rachel took a step closer to him, her face taking on a dark, obsessive quality. “Imagine a world where people’s souls persisted after death and could reincarnate in new bodies. Would slavery even have a purpose if that was how existence worked?”
“What’s your angle?” asked Mythril. “You claim that this would change the world. Am I supposed to believe that you’re acting entirely out of selfless altruism?”
“You could believe that,” said Rachel. “Or you could believe that it’s a setup, and that I’ll betray you eventually.”
She turned to face him, locking her eyes onto his with such intensity that it was hard for him to imagine her as a slave. She reached up to the towel and undid the fold, letting it fall to the ground.
“All I want is your trust and your help,” said Rachel.
Mythril didn’t look away.
“You’re asking me to take a leap of faith,” he said.
“I’m asking you to take me,” whispered Rachel.
She kissed him, and he felt his lips moving against hers in response. Her body felt soft and warm, and his logic went to war against waves of rushing passion. She’d made him an offer that he simply could not resist.
CHAPTER 35
Ari’s awareness came back to him in slow stages as the dream, if that’s what it had been, abruptly ended. He could feel the shape of one of the tower’s hard, stone bed foundations underneath him, but it was a small afternote in comparison to the soft, warm, and very much naked body next to him.
He was still aroused from the tantalizing manner in which the dream had ended, and he felt himself moving without much thought. Shifting his hips, Ari made the rather welcome discovery that he was also naked. He slid his hands down his bed companion’s back, letting his fingers linger on the cushion of her butt.
“Ari?” whispered Kerys. “Are you awake?”
“Part of me certainly is,” he said. He squeezed one of buttocks and prodded into her stomach with that particular body part.
“Ari!” s
houted Kerys. “We were so worried! Dormiar’s tears, don’t ever…”
He cut her off with a kiss and then slid so he was a little lower and had a more interesting angle. One of his hands settled on one of Kerys’ awesome breasts. He gave it a gentle caress and then stopped to consider why, exactly, she was in the bed naked with him.
“You were so worried that you decided you were finally ready to give your virginity to me,” whispered Ari. “Kerys, that’s so sweet.”
“No, you idiot,” said Kerys. “Rin said that the vodakai venom would lower your body temperature to a dangerous point. So Eva and I have been taking turns lying in bed with you and warming you up.”
“Oh…” said Ari. He thrust forward against Kerys with his erection, mostly just to see what would happen. It connected with her tightly crossed thighs and he heard her let out an irritated hiss.
“I’m glad that you’re awake, at least,” said Kerys. She slid off the side of the bed, and Ari opened his eyes far enough to see her pulling on her underwear and then her dress.
“Hold on, I’m getting cold again,” said Ari. “Ohhhh… I’m so cold. I need more naked body heat. We should probably get some friction going, too.”
“I have no idea why we even bothered,” said Kerys. Her tone was annoyed, but she was smiling, and the relief lingered in her eyes.
The door to Ari’s room opened, and Eva burst in through it. She slid past Kerys and slid onto the bed next to Ari, pulling him into a tight hug through the blanket.
“Aristial!” she said. “How are you feeling?”
She kissed him before he could answer, and then let her forehead lean against his as their embrace continued. Ari felt his heart pound at the depth of emotion he saw on her face. He hugged her back, his thoughts traveling back in time to Mythril and the little girl he’d seen by the lake.
“I’m okay,” said Ari. “As well as ever.”
“I could feel flickers of your pain through our bond,” whispered Eva.
Sword Sirens (The Weatherblight Saga Book 1) Page 24
