Deathcaster

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Deathcaster Page 46

by Cinda Williams Chima


  We will fight you in the winter snows

  And in the summer mud,

  And the slopes of Hanalea

  Will be watered with your blood.

  Blackbirds swarmed toward the steps. Overhead, bows sounded, and the blackbirds dropped in their tracks. More spattercloth soldiers stepped in through the doors on all sides, preventing anyone from exiting. Jarat’s thanelings drew their ceremonial swords, only to be cut down by arrows from above and swordsmen on the ground.

  Julianna’s attendants were singing along with the crowd.

  We are children of the north

  And we do not fight alone.

  Our mothers fight beside us

  To protect the mountain home.

  From mountain camp to upland vale

  You’ll hear our battle cry:

  You think you’ve come to conquer.

  Instead, prepare to die.

  Mellony threw herself across her daughter’s body, sobbing.

  “Mages! To me! Protect your king!” Jarat shouted, seeing soldiers closing in on all sides.

  The remaining mages stood along the perimeter, arms folded, faces stone-like.

  “Karn!” Jarat shouted, looking around for his spymaster/mage wrangler. “Where are you? Make them obey.” Karn was nowhere to be seen.

  The sounds of fighting outside had subsided. The entire hall had gone quiet, everyone waiting to see what would happen next.

  Jarat stared up at the gallery. Somewhere along the line, he’d lost his elaborate crown. Quite suddenly, he was very much alone.

  “Who the hell are you?” he said to the singer.

  “I am Alyssa ana’Raisa, the Gray Wolf queen,” she said. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my hall?”

  “I am Jarat Montaigne, emperor of the Seven Realms.”

  Very deliberately, Alyssa looked from one side of the hall to the other. “I think you are mistaken,” she said. “I believe you are my prisoner.”

  Mellony’s head came up when she heard this exchange. She pushed to her feet, moving away from Jarat. “Alyssa! Thank the Maker.” She pointed a shaking hand at Jarat. “He murdered Julianna.”

  Just then, the doors to the hall opened with a bang, and Destin Karn strode in. He came and stood next to Jarat. “The fighting’s over,” he said. “We’ve driven the enemy out of the close.”

  Jarat drew himself up. “Thank you, General. Now.” He looked up at Alyssa. “You have made a grievous mistake. It is my custom to be merciful, especially when it comes to young women, but this is impossible to forgive. You have ruined my wedding and killed my bride.”

  Lila took a moment to be amazed at how people will lie about what happened in a room full of witnesses.

  Then Jarat pointed to Alyssa and said to Karn, “Kill her.”

  Karn merely looked at Jarat, as if perplexed. “Oh. Didn’t I tell you? I’ve changed sides. The wolf queen has won the day. Not you.” Quick as thought, Karn looped a garrote around the king’s neck and drew it tight.

  Jarat’s eyes bulged, he kicked and struggled, desperately clawing at his neck, then pawed at his wedding coat, trying to reach an inside pocket.

  Eventually, Karn forced the emperor to the floor, pinning him. Jarat thrashed and drummed his heels on the floor, the sound echoing through the candlelit sanctuary. Gradually, his movements became erratic, slowing until they finally stopped. Karn gave it another few moments, just to be sure, then sat back on his heels.

  That’s Destin Karn, Lila thought. Always willing to tie up those loose ends.

  Mellony gaped at this, horrified. Then looked up at Alyssa, raising her hands beseechingly.

  “Aunt Mellony,” Alyssa said, “I am so very disappointed in you.”

  “Wh-what are you talking about?”

  Alyssa didn’t reply, just kept staring down at her.

  “I— Please understand,” Mellony said finally. “I know what you’re thinking, but we really had no choice. General Dunedain took her army east, leaving us defenseless. After Arden took the city, we had to do what was necessary to survive. Jarat was determined to marry a queen, and so . . .” She trailed off. “And now—I’ve paid the highest price imaginable. I’ve lost my daughter. And you’ve lost your cousin, who loved you.”

  This is sort of like the child who kills his parents and then asks for mercy because he is an orphan, Lila thought. Only the other way around.

  “No,” Alyssa said, her voice tremoring a bit. “This doesn’t work for you, not anymore. I probably don’t know everything, but I know enough—about Vega, about Finn, about my father and my sister and my mother. They loved you and trusted you. I loved you and trusted you. And you betrayed us all.”

  Mellony looked around, at the room full of soldiers and the wedding guests who hadn’t already fled. “You’re hurt and upset,” she said. “I understand that. Perhaps we should discuss this in private. What’s said can’t be unsaid, and we’ll need each other more than ever now.”

  “I have no intention of taking anything back,” Alyssa said. “And I want everyone to hear what you have to say for yourself. The biggest mistake my mother ever made was taking you back after you tried to take her throne the first time.”

  The first time? Lila thought. When was that?

  For a moment, it seemed that Mellony would go on pleading. But maybe the “queen regent” realized that it would do no good, because she changed tactics. She stiffened, lifted her chin, and said, “What I did, I did for the good of the realm. Julianna would have been a far better queen than you. She was so graceful, so lovely, so well-spoken, and so very smart. Everybody loved Julianna. You’ve always been big and awkward, never knowing how to act in social situations, always picking fights with everyone. You used to drive your poor mother to distraction.”

  “I do make people uncomfortable,” Lyss said. “When I see something wrong, I call it out. I ask hard questions. And I do pick fights with people—because some things are worth fighting for.” She put her hand on the hilt of her sword. “This is my weapon of choice. I don’t stab people in the back or put poison in their wine.”

  “If you’re suggesting that I did such things, that’s a shameful lie,” Mellony said. “It’s a good thing poor Raisa didn’t live to see this day. She would be mortified to hear how you’ve treated me.”

  “Actually, my mother is alive and well,” Alyssa said. “We’ll sit down with her one day soon and you can tell her all about it.”

  For once, Mellony had nothing to say. She stood, fists clenched, surprise and horror on her face.

  “Together, my mother and I, and you and Julianna could have accomplished so much,” Alyssa said softly. “Sometimes, it seems the bonds of blood and history are not enough.”

  She nodded to her soldiers, and they ushered Mellony away.

  By now, the sanctuary was empty except for Highlanders, bluejackets, and the queen’s inner circle. Julianna had been carried into the side chapel that the string quartet had vacated. Shadow and DeVilliers were with her. Lila sat down, too.

  Julianna did look like a sleeping princess in her wedding gown, pale and beautiful, a purple bruise blossoming on her forehead where it had hit the floor.

  Lila leaned in to take a closer look. “What was it you gave her?”

  “Bloodberry,” Shadow said. “It’s a nerve poison. Taken in a small dose, it depresses breathing and heartbeat and so mimics death. Clan children get into them sometimes. That’s why we always sit vigil with the dead for three days before we burn them.”

  Everyone in the Seven Realms must have a personal stash of poison to draw upon, Lila thought.

  “How is she doing?” Queen Alyssa said from the doorway.

  “She’s coming to, I think,” Shadow said. He stood, pointing to the place he’d vacated. “Sit,” he said.

  Julianna groaned, turning her head from side to side. Reached up and fingered the bump on her head, wincing in pain.

  Shadow leaned in and whispered, “Time to wake up. I
t’s over.”

  “I have the mother of all headaches,” Julianna said. She cracked her eyes open. “Am I married?”

  “No,” Alyssa said.

  Now Julianna’s eyes snapped wide open. “Lyss! Thank the Maker. It’s true—you’re not dead.”

  “You’re not dead, either,” the queen said, stroking her hair. “But Jarat is.”

  Julianna struggled to sit up, then gave it up. “What about my mother?”

  “She’s still living,” Alyssa said. After a pause, she added, “She’s locked up. I haven’t decided what to do about her.”

  “I never wanted to be queen,” Julianna whispered. “I loved the job that I had—diplomacy, collecting information and analyzing it, solving problems. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me, but—”

  “I believe you,” Alyssa said. “I’ve misjudged you. I was jealous of how smart and capable you are, and I mistook your mother’s ambition for your own.”

  But Julianna plowed on, as if bent on convincing her. “I am not fierce enough,” she said. “I am not the wolf that you are.”

  “It’s not enough to be fierce,” Alyssa said.

  “It’s not fair,” Julianna said, tears running down her face. “I am . . . so very sorry. Karn said that it’s not our fault if our parents are monsters, but I still feel responsible. If I could trade my life for—for Uncle Han’s, or for Hanalea, or—”

  “I would love to have them back,” Alyssa said, taking her cousin’s hands. “But I don’t want to make that trade. I’m going to need you.”

  63

  HUNTING IN THE VALE

  As Ash had anticipated, the Highlanders’ reaction to their new winged allies quickly transitioned from fear and suspicion to fervent enthusiasm as the dragons became powerful partners in fighting the empress’s armies. The bloodsworn’s advantage was numbers, strength, and stamina. As long as soldiers were meeting on the ground, Celestine could both overwhelm the enemy and replenish her armies. But the dragons fought above the fray, immolating entire columns in one swoop. The fact that the empress’s soldiers were funneled into the pass only made that job easier. Since immolation was one of the few effective ways to kill the bloodsworn, that turned the tide of the fight.

  Gradually, the dragons and their human partners forced the empress’s army back, past Fortress Rocks, past Alyssa Peak, leaving thousands of dead behind. Ash took little joy in this, since so many of the bloodsworn had begun as northern soldiers.

  The news from the Vale wasn’t as good. Scouts brought reports that Jarat’s army had marched north through Delphi and taken Fellsmarch. Since Sasha claimed that Lyss was still alive, and somewhere to the west, Ash worried that she might be in the path of Jarat’s advance.

  Ash and Sasha met with the queen and her military commanders to ask for permission to fly into the Vale to try to find her.

  General Dunedain raised an eyebrow. “Who is ‘we’?”

  “Goat and me, and Sasha and Slayer,” Ash said. When Dunedain frowned, he hurried on. “That leaves you with Cas and Pricker. Jenna said she would stay and fight with you.”

  “You’re sure Alyssa is there?” Queen Raisa said.

  “I think she’s somewhere in the Vale,” Sasha said. “I can’t be sure. I’m new at this. Look, if she escaped and came back to the Realms, she’d probably circle around Chalk Cliffs and try to make it back home through the borderlands. She would have no idea where we are.”

  “Can you tell if Alyssa has been turned?” Queen Raisa asked. “Is it possible she’s fighting for the empress?”

  “I’m convinced that Lyss is still Lyss,” Sasha said flatly. “She hasn’t been turned. So I don’t see how she could be fighting for the empress.”

  “My children keep following each other into danger,” Queen Raisa said, with an air of resignation. She embraced Ash. “Be careful.”

  And so, on a beautiful late-spring day, Ash, Goat, Sasha, and Slayer flew over the fringe of mountains that marked the eastern edge of the Vale, following the Firehole River. Plumes of vapor marked where streamlets fed by hot springs met the cold river. Major obstacles in the landscape looked like crinkles on a map. He’d never seen his homeland from this vantage point before.

  The dragons were fascinated by the lush landscape, so different from Carthis.

  Green, Goat said. And, then, Good hunting?

  “Yes,” Ash said. “Good hunting.”

  At Sasha’s direction, they turned north, following the Way of the Queens toward Gray Lady.

  “She must be near the capital,” she said.

  Who else is in the capital? Ash thought. Who, if anyone, is sitting on the throne? Jarat Montaigne? The idea turned his stomach.

  As they neared the city of Fellsmarch, they could see what appeared to be an ocean of soldiers surrounding the city. If that was Jarat’s army, the young king of Arden seemed to have brought the entire empire with him. Is that how he managed to take the city? Was Lyss trapped inside the walls?

  Bloodsworn, Goat said. Same as before.

  “Bloodsworn?” Ash’s heart sank. Was Celestine just going to keep sending soldiers until everyone in the Realms was dead?

  Don’t be sad. More to kill.

  “I’d like to stop killing one day,” Ash said. As they circled, losing altitude, he could see that most of the soldiers were dressed in the familiar desert warrior garb. But they were not the same as before.

  It was their auras. They weren’t the purplish color the bloodsworn wore, nor quite the ruddy color of Strangward’s stormborn. They were so faint that in the bright sunlight, they scarcely showed.

  “Lyss isn’t in the city,” Sasha called. “She’s somewhere north of it. On Gray Lady.”

  The “bloodsworn” soldiers slopped partway up Gray Lady’s sides. Amid the desert warriors were splotches of buff—a few hundred Ardenine dirtbacks.

  Ash’s heart sank. Had Jarat and the empress teamed up against the queendom? Was Lyss hiding out, somewhere above?

  Go lower, Slayer suggested. Catch her scent maybe.

  They descended in slow spirals, until dragon eyes could pick out details on the ground.

  “It seems like she must be right below us,” Sasha said. “Do you see her?”

  A handful of people had emerged from a gash in the mountainside—what looked to be a cave. They began picking their way downslope toward the soldiers’ camp.

  Ash squinted, but he couldn’t see anyone who resembled his sister.

  The group walked out onto a ledge that overlooked the gathered soldiers.

  Officers maybe, Goat said. Good target? The dragons had embraced warfare tactics and terminology with a will.

  “Maybe,” Ash said. “Can we go lower?”

  One of the officers began to speak to the assembled soldiers, her voice ringing out over the valley. Ash couldn’t make out the words. But Goat could, and transmitted them to Ash.

  “You all have until tomorrow to make your decision. Some of you are from the Fells, some of you are from the downrealms, and some of you are from Carthis. All of you are welcome to stay, and pledge to me and join the fight against the empress. But if you’re from the south, I must warn you that our winters are a lot colder than yours.”

  Laughter rolled through the massed soldiers. Bloodsworn laughing?

  “So. See your field commanders and let them know if you are staying or going home. If you go, take your personal gear with you. You’ll need it for the journey home.”

  An officer in Ardenine colors came up beside her and addressed his soldiers. “I expect my brigades to stay. Once we establish order in the city and determine what we need here, we’ll deploy east, toward the fighting on the coast.”

  The two officers looked at each other, then said in unison, “Dismissed.”

  All at once, Slayer said, Lyssa Wolf! He folded his wings and plummeted toward the ledge with Sasha hanging on for dear life. Goat instantly plunged after him. When the people on the ground spotted them, they screamed out a warn
ing, scattering and looking for cover, but there was none to be found on the bare ledge.

  The dragons landed between the ledge and the cave, so that the humans were trapped. Two of them were mages, and they stood their ground in front of the others, firing volleys of flame at the dragons, which had no effect on their armored hides. Ash and Sasha slid to the ground and took cover behind them.

  Puny mage flame, Goat said.

  “Don’t retaliate,” Ash said quickly, for fear the dragons would give them a demonstration.

  Not stupid. Find Lyss, then retaliate.

  Slayer extended his head toward the cowering humans. The officer in buff had thrown himself down on top of the officer who’d spoken first. She appeared to be trying to squirm out from under him.

  Lyssa Wolf!

  “Slayer!” she cried. And “Matelon, get off of me!” to her would-be protector. She finally freed herself and sprinted toward Slayer, pressing up against the dragon’s side, doing her best to embrace him. “No, no, no,” she said, when he glared menacingly at the soldier, who was advancing toward them. “He was trying to help me, not hurt me.”

  Ash got an up-close look at his little sister for the first time.

  First of all, she was no longer little. She was nearly as tall as Ash, and had lost every bit of girlish padding on muscle and bone. Her hair was the color of November hay, and done up in little braids, clan-style, but she was dressed like a desert warrior, like one of the bloodsworn he’d been fighting in the east. Her complexion was a burnished copper—closer to their mother’s—and she’d inherited her grandfather’s brown eyes. He knew all this, and yet—it was as if it were laid over the frame of a different person. Her face was almost the same, with her stubborn chin and broad forehead, but her cheekbones and jaw were more sharply angled.

  She moved like a warrior, too, with a predatory grace and economy of movement.

  Lyssa Wolf, Ash thought, his heart heavy with regret. My little sister is gone forever. I have missed so much.

  Lyss turned away from Slayer then, distracted by shouts of alarm from the soldiers below. Some of them had begun scrambling up the mountainside toward them. Slayer extended his head over the edge of the promontory, ears flattened, preparing to attack.

 

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