Crown of Crystal Flame (6 page)

Dervas didn’t give his body the command, but his hands wiped a cloth across his face and his feet began walking. He tried to fight it, tried to make himself stop, but it was as if he were merely an observer trapped in some other person’s form. He circled the desk and crossed the room, then dropped to his knees before the Mage.

“You see?” The Primage shook his head. “Still you wish to rebel. You always do.” He sighed. “Very well. Go to the hearth—no, on your hands and knees. You are my dog,
umagi,
and I am your master.”

Weeping, but unable to refuse, Dervas crawled.

“Your right hand offends me,” the Mage said when he reached the stone hearth. “Put it in the fire.”

“No, please!” But his hand was already reaching for the flames. “Please!” Then, because now he remembered all the times before, the prices he’d paid for his attempted but never-successful rebellions over the years, he cried, “Please, master! Please, master, forgive your worthless
umagi.”

His hand stopped moving towards the fire, but he was still close enough he could feel the heat licking at his skin. Unless the Mage released him, his hand would slow roast. And the Mage would make sure Dervas felt every torturous moment.

“Will you serve me,
umagi,
of your own volition, or must I force your obedience as I am doing now?”

“I will serve! Please, I will serve!”

“Then speak your vow, Dervas, son of Gunvar, and speak it with conviction.”

Dervas closed his eyes and spoke the mantra of surrender and obedience he’d been taught so long ago. “This
umagi
serves you willingly, master. Whatever your command, he obeys without hesitation. This life and this body are yours to use or destroy.”

“You may rise.”

Dervas dragged in a sobbing breath of relief and rose on shaking legs. “What is it you require of this
umagi,
master?”

The Primage smiled. “It is time for you to fulfill your purpose.”

Celieria ~ Kreppes
27th day of Verados

The hooves of a thousand horses thundered in the night. An army of men, outfitted for war, rode across the fields and woods of northern Celieria, Great Lord Dervas Sebourne at the lead. The army moved swiftly, covering the miles between Dunbarrow and Kreppes without stopping.

You will ride to Kreppes with your army. You will beg an audience with the king and throw yourself on his mercy, pleading with him to forgive your anger on the day your son died. Grief and your distrust of the Fey drove you mad, you will say. Remind him of his own son and how he would feel should Prince Dorian perish.

But you have had time for that first rage to pass. You are a Celierian, and loyal to your king. You request the honor of fighting by his side. Above all, you beg to be near because you do not trust the Fey.

Remind him of how they lied to him, how they manipulated him into believing what they wanted him to believe. Are those the actions of a loyal race? Trusted allies? No, they are not. Lord Barrial may trust the Fey implicitly, but would it not be better for the king to keep at least one advisor by his side who is not so blind to the possibility of Fey duplicity?

Lord Sebourne’s army reached the perimeter encampments around Kreppes before the tower watch struck nine silver bells. Campfires burned across the fields around the fortress, illuminating the rows of neatly ordered tents, both Celierian and Fey. Amongst the Celierian tents, pennants from the King’s Army fluttered alongside those of the Border Lords who’d sent troops in answer to their king’s call, Great Lord Barrial, the new Great Lord Darramon, all of the lesser lords from hundreds of miles around.

Dervas noted the familiar crests as he left the bulk of his army waiting at arrow point on the outskirts of the encampments while he and a personal guard of six men rode, under escort, towards the city gates.

And if the king does not grant me an audience?

You’d better hope he does, umagi. Else you will cause such as scene you will get thrown in the castle jail. One way or another, I want you inside that fortress where you are supposed to be. Where you would be had you not ridden off in a fit of pique after the Fey killed your son. Yes, master.

Good. Now, Primage Nour gave you a necklace when he visited you in Old Castle Prison, did he not? Fetch it.

Torches burned on the sides of Kreppes’s great gates. Bowmen stood at attention on the tower, their arrows nocked and aimed at Dervas as the gatekeeper and his companions approached.

“I am come to see the king,” Dervas informed the gatekeeper with cold command. “Tell him Great Lord Sebourne requests an audience.”

The guards at the gate made him wait. Two pikemen blocked the way while a runner went for permission to admit Great Lord Sebourne and his entourage into the castle.

Dervas sat tall and proud in the saddle, staring down his nose at the king’s men. He had come garbed for war, but that did not stop him from looking as resplendent as a Great Lord ought. His armor gleamed to a mirror polish. A thickly furred cape attached to his epaulets, flowing back in regal splendor over the scale-armored rump of his mount. A thick gold chain circled his neck, the heavy, jeweled links carved with symbols of protection, each link growing larger and more elaborate as it neared the jewel’s set piece—two gleaming white stones, one round and a smaller, crescent shape to symbolize the Mother and Daughter moons, set above a sparkling amber crystal surrounded by a ring of stylized waves suggesting the radiance of the Great Sun’s corona.

You will keep this necklace with you at all times. Waking, sleeping, in the bath. You will not take it off for any reason, understood?

Yes, master.

Good. There is one particular danger you must watch out for. The Tairen Soul keeps one who was once dahl’reisen by his side.

Yes, master. Gaelen vel Serranis.

They say he can detect Mage Marks. If they discover you are Mage claimed, they will either put you to death or put you under such great guard as to be useless to us. So if vel Serranis is summoned to check you for Mage Marks, speak the word
Gamorraz
to activate the larger of the two white stones.

What does the stone do? Is it a weapon?

Of a sort. Just keep it close and use it if you must to keep from being discovered. The amber crystal will let me hear your thoughts, while warding against all but the most deliberate attempts by others to do the same.

The runner returned and whispered in the gatekeeper’s ear. The gatekeeper turned to Lord Sebourne and said, “His Majesty will grant you the audience you have requested, Great Lord Sebourne. But you and your men will not be permitted to bring weapons into the castle.”

Sebourne drew back. “I’ve come to defend my country against invasion, and I am not permitted to carry a weapon?”

“I’m sorry, my lord, but not into the castle. Your weapons will be stored in the armory and returned to you in the event of an attack. His Majesty prays you will understand the precaution.”

Dervas caught sight of a Fey warrior beyond the gate. The Fey was clad for war, his black armor bristling with a full complement of silvery Fey blades. “A Great Lord of Celieria must surrender his weapons, but Fey wander the castle freely, carrying enough steel to slaughter an entire regiment? Where is the sense in that?”

The gatekeeper didn’t even have the courtesy to look embarrassed. “King’s orders, my lord. You must surrender your weapons here at the gate.”

Dervas capitulated with ill grace. He turned in the saddle and nodded to his men. They all immediately began unbuckling their sword belts. Dervas tossed his to the gatekeeper, then bent down to remove his boot daggers and hand those over as well.

“Two swords. Two daggers. Shall I surrender my shield, too? Who knows, I might bludgeon someone with it in a fit of rage.”

The gatekeeper ignored the sarcasm and answered with studied politeness, “If you wish us to hold your shield, my lord, we would be happy to do so.”

“Bah.” Dervas waved a gauntleted hand.

“If you and your men will dismount, my lord, we will stable your horses.”

Dervas dismounted and handed his reins to one of the guards. With his men at his heels, he walked through the gates of Kreppes.

Once you are in the castle, you will make note of everything you see. Troop counts, location of the guards, artillery on the battlements, entrances and exits, defensive positions, any weakness that can be exploited. There is nothing too large or too small for you to consider.

And finally, once you’ve had your audience with the king, you will make it your business to discover where in the castle the Feyreisen and his mate are lodged. Every detail you noted about the castle, you will also note about their location. Where it is, all the ways to access it, what time they rise and retire, how many and which warriors guard them, anything and everything you can think of. You will find a way to secrete this stone in their room or just outside it.

The guards escorted Dervas across the outer courtyard, which housed stables, secondary barracks, training fields, as well as houses and workshops for the small, walled city that was Kreppes. A second gated wall surrounded the pentagon-shaped inner castle. Dervas noted the towers every two tairen lengths along the battlements of the crenellated second wall, the location of the armory and second barracks, each set of stairs leading up to the battlements, the number of guards standing the walls.

Only a handful of Fey stood among the Celierians on the walls, and that surprised him. Dorian was such a Fey-lover, he’d hand over the keys to the kingdom if he could.

“Great Lord Sebourne?” They had reached the main building entrance. A young soldier wearing the Celierian blue-and-gold tabard of the King’s Guard stood on the steps. He bowed deeply. “I am Lieutenant Arvin, my lord. My men and I will escort you to the king.” Another six Guardsmen stood just inside the arching doorway with its wide, steel-reinforced door. Arvin nodded to the gate guards, who saluted and headed back the way they’d come.

“I apologize for the armed escort, my lord,” Arvin said, as they walked through the keep. “Tensions are high. I do hope you understand.”

Dervas wanted to snap that he understood a great many things, including the fact that the Fey had poisoned the king’s mind, but he held his tongue. He was here to mend fences and salvage what he could of his power and his standing in the court.

“If surrendering my weapons and submitting to armed escort will set my king’s mind at ease, then I surrender and submit gladly,” he lied. They crossed the main hall. At the back of the hall, a stairway led up to a second level. There were two doors on the left and an open archway on the right. Two of the King’s Guard stood beside each of the doors and the archway.

“Thank you, my lord. I appreciate your gracious understanding.” Lieutenant Arvin stopped beside the second door on the left. “The king has granted this audience to you alone, my lord. Your men must remain here.”

Sebourne motioned for his men to step back.

“There is one final thing, my lord. I have been commanded to search you before you enter the king’s presence.”

Sebourne’s brows shot up towards his hairline. He had accepted every slight with grace, but this was too much. His ire spewed out before he could check it. “Search me? What in the gods name for, boy? Do you think I have a sword stuffed up my ass? I am a Great Lord of Celieria! I was asked to surrender my weapons, and I have done so. You have my word I carry no other weapon on my person. That should be more than sufficient for you!”

The lieutenant would not be swayed or intimidated. He remained instead, polite but firm. “Please, my lord. I must insist. King’s orders.”

Dervas huffed and snorted and glared—and muttered in a dark voice about the end of the civilized world—but in the end he submitted to the abominable indignity of a search. He knew exactly why he was being subjected to it. Dorian meant to humiliate him, to put him in his place, to remind him there was no right or power even Great Lord Sebourne enjoyed except by the consent of the king.

What of the king, master? When we were in Celieria City, Master Nour said that when we reached Kreppes, I was to kill Dorian.

That was the original plan, but now that the Feyreisen and his mate have come, the plans have changed. Your new mission is to assist in the capture of the Tairen Soul’s mate.

Yes, master, of course… but Dorian… please, I would still like the honor of killing him… now more than ever. For my son.

And so you shall, but locating the Feyreisa is your first priority. And it is to that aim that you will devote all your efforts. Once you have provided me the information I require and put that stone in place, your reward will be the honor of killing Celieria’s king.

After a thorough pat down, the lieutenant led Sebourne through the door and down the connecting hallway. They passed five doors, three on the left, two on the right, before the hallway made a thirty-degree turn to the right. Two more of the King’s Guard stood at attention beside the fourth door on the right. The door led to a small, windowless interior sitting room, fairly bare by court standards, though the two couches and chairs that occupied the room were of obvious quality. There was a closed second door at the back of the room, flanked by more guards.

“Make yourself comfortable, my lord. I will let His Majesty know you are here.” The lieutenant bowed deeply a final time, went to rap softly on the back door, then slipped inside.

Dervas cooled his heels in the small sitting room for the better part of a bell. Though several people came and went through that guarded back door, no one came to summon him. No one came to look after his needs or offer him refreshment. No doubt the waiting and the deliberate lack of polite comforts were more small punishments.

And now, my umagi, I am going to erase all memory of this conversation until it is time for you to fulfill your task. This is for your sake as well as ours. With your memories gone, even a shei’dalin as powerful as the Tairen Soul’s mate could Truthspeak you but still learn nothing of value.