Eidolon (12 page)

The other man shook his head and flexed his jaw to pop his ears. “Useful magic, that,” he said. “Annoying though.”  He declined Brishen’s offer of a chair. “If your ministers are anything like the pack of wolves always circling the Beladine court, they’ll spend their time planning your wife’s assassination, your overthrow, and the elevation of a favored puppet to your the throne.”

Serovek wasn’t telling Brishen anything he hadn’t already planned for. “Then they’ll be in for a surprise. The councilors I choose for the war
sejm
will benefit more if I stay on the throne. Anhuset will remain here also.”

Serovek winced. “I’m sure that went over well.”

“About as you might expect. But she’s more useful to me here, guarding Ildiko and supporting her. Mertok will stay too, so it isn’t as if I’m singling her out. The first hint of sedition that rears its head, and that person will be put to the sword. Ildiko may be human, but she isn’t weak. She’ll do what’s necessary to hold the throne until I return.”

“If we return.”

“I can’t afford to think otherwise.”

Serovek and his company had traveled through the night to reach Saggara by morning. He assured Brishen several times that High Salure would be secure without him for an extended period. He left the hall to see to his men, refusing one of only three small chambers left in the main house, preferring a pallet in the garrison barracks.

Brishen climbed the stairs and eased quietly into his chamber. Ildiko huddled in the bed and didn’t stir when he stripped and slipped under the covers to spoon around her. She was warm and soft and smelled citrusy from the orange water she’d requested their apothecary distill from the wild grove that bordered one side of Saggara.

Her hair tickled his nose, and he buried his face in the tangled locks. His garrison could now boast that nowhere else in Bast-Haradis did this many beautiful Kai women congregate. The lesser nobility had gathered in force, for safety, for influence and for the chance to show off their women folk to the king between kings. Ildiko’s serene mask as she watched them vie for Brishen’s attention on a nightly basis didn’t fool him for a moment.

He pulled her closer into the curve of his body. He regretted not telling her he had no more interest in them than the shade of whitewash painted on the walls. That she, above all others, held his heart and his soul. Maybe if he had, she might not have embraced the
Elsod
’s advice so readily.

Maybe. Ildiko was a pragmatic sort who understood the requirements of duty better than anyone. Better, even than he did. It was why she’d willingly agreed to marry him in the first place. Her arguments supporting the
Elsod
’s insistence that he renounce her had kicked him in the gut, and the pain of her betrayal nearly put him on his knees. A day of reflection and the memory of her agonized expression tempered his initial fury. She didn’t want him to renounce her anymore than he did. They only differed in their sense of obligation to the roles in which they’d been suddenly and unwillingly thrust.

“You are my queen,” he murmured into her hair. “And my queen you will remain.”

She replied with a slurred “I love you, Brishen,” and he exerted all his willpower not to crush her to him, meld her into his skin. Keep her safe. Keep her close.

The following evening the signal bells hung at each of the redoubt’s corners rang repeatedly, summoning the permanent residents and those who bivouacked in the bailey and surrounding fields. They gathered outside the perimeter walls before a hastily erected platform, faces curious and hopeful as they gazed at the
Elsod
and Brishen beside her.

His mouth was dry as a plate of sand. These people looked to him to save them. If they learned how he intended to do it, they’d turn on him faster than a pack of magefinders and tear him apart.

The crowd went silent when the
Elsod
stepped forward and raised her arms. “The Scrying Wheel revealed a great tragedy,” she announced in a powerful voice that belied her frail looking figure. “One verified by the scouts returning from the capital. Haradis has fallen to the
galla
.”  An anguished cry rippled through the gathering. “Those who survived the attack now travel to Saggara.”

A lone voice spoke up. “The royal family?  What of them?”  The question hung in the air as all gazes shifted to Brishen.

“None survived,” the memory warden replied. “Save one.”  Her pause deepened the breathless hush hanging in the air. She turned to Brishen, and with the help of her
masods
, sank to her knees before him. “The king is dead. Long live the king.”

As one, the crowd of Kai genuflected before Brishen, some with grief stamped on their features, others with hope. The second made him flinch. “Stand,” he commanded, and the shift of feet rumbled like far-off thunder. “We are a country at war.”  His voice carried on the frosty air, sure and resolute. “Not with the human kingdoms—they who live and breathe, bleed and die as we do.”  His gaze settled on Serovek and his troop, standing separate from the Kai. “Cherish their families and love their children and elders as we do,” he continued. “We are at war with creatures who know nothing of these things, value nothing beyond the need to devour and destroy.

“We all know the stories of the
galla
, but we aren’t defeated, not yet. There is a way to turn them back and send them once more from our world to the prison from whence they came.”  The crowd  shifted and murmured among themselves. “But for it to succeed, you must unite. Put aside your differences, your petty ambitions and work together as one people. If you don’t, we won’t survive.”

Brishen waited, allowing his words to sink in, allowing the Kai time to realize the challenge that lay before them. He spoke again, his voice building to a roar. “Long may the moon rise above Bast-Haradis!  Long may the Kai thrive beneath her light!”

The Kai responded with shouts of their own. “Long live the Kai!  Long live the King!”  They surged the platform, and Brishen stepped down, instantly swallowed by bodies that pressed against him and hands that touched him reverently, as if he’d suddenly transformed from a nobleman to a god.

He caught sight of Ildiko still on the platform next to the
kapu
kezets
. She held the
Elsod
’s elbow and gazed at the sea of cheering people, face pale and set.

More cheering erupted when Brishen returned to the platform, and the
Elsod
performed the simple ceremony of placing a plain gold circlet on his head. The applause wasn’t quite as loud when Ildiko bent her head to accept the second circlet, and Brishen noted the faces of each noble family closest to him in rank. A few seemed genuinely glad; most wore calculating expressions and thin smiles that did little to mask their resentment at swearing fealty to a human queen. He could only imagine how they’d react when he named her regent in his absence.

For a few hours, the Kai forgot about the
galla
and the danger they posed. Brishen ordered the opening of wine and ale casks. Fires were lit, and musicians set to playing their instruments while others gathered for impromptu dancing. As coronation celebrations went, it was neither regal nor formal nor even dignified. Brishen didn’t want it any other way.

He found Ildiko amidst a cluster of Kai women, all talking to her at once. She wore that falsely peaceful mask he was growing to hate. Anhuset hovered nearby, a grim guardian.

All conversation ceased when he waded into their ranks, with bland apologies for the interruption and whisked Ildiko out of their clutches. Anhuset’s dour “Thank the gods that torture is over” made him grin and Ildiko chortle.

The manor’s upper floors were deserted and blessedly silent. In the sanctuary of their chamber, Brishen removed Ildiko’s clothes and his own until they both faced each other, naked and dappled in firelight. They exchanged caresses instead of words, kisses instead of conversation, and by the time they stumbled to the bed in a frantic rush, Brishen forgot—for a moment—the hollow chasm that yawned in the pit of his belly.

He made love to Ildiko through the evening hours, savoring her touch, the feel of her in his arms and the gasping sound of his name escaping her lips as he pleasured her. When they rested, she idly stroked the ridge of muscle that sculpted his stomach. He’d thrown back the covers to cool off, and her hand in the darkness glowed like a pearl against his own slate-colored skin.

“You’ve abandoned Serovek,” she said and punctuated the remark with a kiss to his shoulder.

Knowing Serovek, he was in the thick of it—dancing, drinking, charming his way through the crowd of Kai and likely annoying Anhuset every chance he got. “I very much doubt I’m missed.”  He rolled her onto her back, his blood heated once more simply by her proximity. “And I couldn’t care less if I were.”

The following afternoon he finished the last touches to the instructions he intended to give his war council and left the first-floor study for the bailey. He slowed and changed direction when he spotted both Ildiko and Anhuset peering intently at something near the stables. A wagon blocked his view of the thing capturing their attention. When it rolled away, he arched an eyebrow.

Serovek was deep in conversation with one of the Kai stable masters. His horse, saddled and packed for the return trip to High Salure, grazed contentedly nearby. Brishen looked back and forth between the Beladine margrave and the two women before taking a circuitous path to where they stood. Neither sensed him lingering the shadow of a stall gate. Serovek had disappeared into the stable’s interior on the opposite side from where Brishen eavesdropped.

“Do human women truly find him handsome?”  Anhuset’s voice lacked its customary sarcasm. Her question held only disbelieving curiosity.

Ildiko chuckled. “I imagine so. He’s blessed with good looks, a fine form and good character.”  Brishen’s eye narrowed. Her praise seemed excessive. “And I imagine they don’t call him the Beladine Stallion for nothing.”  He scowled.

Anhuset snorted and turned back to hoist a horse blanket over one shoulder. “Nothing but a bunch of bluster if you ask me. I’d want proof to believe that nonsense.”

“Any time, any place, fair Anhuset.”  Serovek’s sudden appearance out of seeming thin air made Ildiko jump and Anhuset snarl. He closed the distance between himself and the Kai woman until there was only a hand’s length of space between them. Brishen feared the margrave courted imminent disemboweling. “Name it,” he almost purred, “and I’ll be happy to prove the title is more than bluster.”

Ildiko eyes rounded. Anhuset didn’t step back. Her eyes shone bright, even in the afternoon light. Quick as a striking snake, she cupped Serovek between his legs and pushed upward. He inhaled a sharp breath and went up on his toes, gaze drifting slowly down to where her claws caged his genitals.

Her wide, pointy grin guaranteed most human males would piss themselves at the sight. “You wouldn’t survive me, horse lord.”

Serovek wasn’t most human males. After the first shock of surprise wore off, he relaxed into her palm and quirked a smile. “But I would die happy, and you’d regret killing me.”

Her mouth slackened, and for a moment, her hand glided down the front of Serovek’s trousers and back up again in a slow stroke before she snatched it away. Her low growl vibrated with outrage, and she stalked off without another word.

Serovek wasn’t as unruffled as he wanted to appear. His knees sagged for a moment, and he wiped his brow with his forearm before focusing on Ildiko.

She crossed her arms and shook her head. “You risk more than your family line by teasing her like that.”

He clasped a hand to his chest and blew out a gusty breath. “I can’t help it. She is magnificent. And prickly.”

Ildiko grinned. “Brishen should be here soon to see you off.”  Her features turned pink for a moment, a sure sign she remember the earlier hours in their bed. “I’m guessing he’s trying to claw his way out of the net his vicegerents and the local gentry have cast over him.”

She didn’t exaggerate.  Once he left the safety of his chamber, those honorable folks had descended on him like flies on meat.

Serovek reached for her hand and bowed and this time his forehead, not his lips, grazed her knuckles. He straightened, and for a moment his gaze went directly to where Brishen lurked in the stall’s shadows. He shifted his attention back to Ildiko. “I’ll return in two days. Take care of each other, Ildiko,” he urged. “You are each the other’s greatest strength in these troubled days.”

Brishen stepped from the shadows to wish his friend and fellow Wraith King farewell.

CHAPTER NINE

Kirgipa chewed listlessly on a bite of road rations. Her stomach rumbled in protest at the hunger pains, but she had little appetite. The journey to Saggara was wearing on her. Fear for the sister she’d left behind, the endless slogging through the cold Absu just as they dried off from a previous wade into the water, and the crawling sense of constantly being watched (and coveted) by the
galla
that tracked them—it all sapped her of energy.

Necos and Dendarah walked beside her, the latter with the baby nestled in her arms. Neither seemed affected by the long hours of travel or the cold or the damp. She supposed such stamina shouldn’t surprise her. These were royal guards, chosen not only for their staunch loyalty to the royal family but for their prowess and toughness. She, on the other hand, had trained as a servant. The role required certain skill set of their own, but slogging through rivers and forests wasn’t one of them.

“Not much further, Kirgipa.”  Necos slowed his steps to match her and gave her an encouraging smile.

She didn’t return it. “You said that yesterday, and it feels no closer.”  She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired of being wet and cold and blinded by the sun.”  And worried for her sister.

“You’re not alone in that.”  He thrust his chin in the direction that Saggara lay. “Try not to think about what’s left to travel and think about the leagues we’ve already covered.”

“Still alive,” Dendarah added.

Kirgipa wasn’t much in the mood to embrace their optimism, but brooding over their current circumstances wouldn’t make them any pleasanter. he jumped when Necos suddenly grasped her arm and pressed a finger to his lips, signaling silence. Dendarah had also stilled, both staring ahead at something Kirgipa couldn’t see. Her heart galloped from her chest into her throat. Oh gods. Had the
galla
somehow found a way to cross the Absu?

A pair of bedraggled Kai, man and woman, emerged from the trees. Neither Necos nor Dendarah called a greeting. Dendarah passed the baby to Kirgipa before taking up a protective stance in front of her. Necos did the same, the two a living wall between Kirgipa and the newcomers.

The couple paused, and the woman raised a hand. “A fair day to you, friends.”

Necos inclined his head. “A fair day.”  His voice lacked inflection, neither friendly nor hostile, and his shoulders remained stiff. Kirgipa peered around him for a better view at the unexpected travelers. They were the first they had come across since leaving the main body of Kai days before, and they came from the opposite direction, ahead of the path on which Kirgipa and her company journeyed.

The man accompanying the woman was odd. A blank expression set in a haggard face and yellow eyes that looked through those who watched him. The woman tugged on his arm, drawing him up beside her as if he were a young child guided by his mother.

She patted him on the shoulder before addressing Necos and Dendarah. “This is my brother Sofiris. I’m Nareed. We were hunting when demons attacked. They killed my sister-in-law. My brother and I barely made it to the river. We’re traveling to Haradis to warn them.”

Kirgipa’s two guards didn’t ease their protective stances, but Necos’s rigid shoulders loosened. “They already know. The
galla
attacked there first. Those who survived are traveling this way, to Saggara, for sanctuary.”

Nareed’s skin paled to a gray the same shade as the winter sky. “Our father lives in Haradis,” she said in a thin voice. She tugged on her brother’s arm. “Did you hear that?  We can either wait here or continue our journey and meet up with the those coming from Haradis. Yeta might be among them.”

Sofiris stared into space, his blank expression unchanging. Kirgipa was tempted to offer a comforting hand when Nareed faced them, stricken. “He saw the
galla
kill his wife.”  Her breath stuttered past her lips. “If they corner us, I will kill him and myself before they take us. I don’t want to die the way Iset did.”

Necos and Dendarah exchanged weighted gazes before Necos shrugged off the pack he carried and dropped to his haunches. “Here’s as good a place as any to stop and eat.”  He hefted the sharpened stick he carried, a makeshift spear he used to catch the fish swimming the Absu. “You’re welcome to rest and share the catch with us.”

Nareed accepted the invitation and settled her brother opposite Kirgipa and Dendarah. While Dendarah built a small cooking fire and spit rack, Nareed joined Necos in the river’s shallows, bow and arrows in hand. In no time they had caught enough to feed everyone with scraps left over.

Sofiris ate automatically, placing bits of fish into his mouth as Nareed dropped them into his hand and coaxed his hand toward his lips. She wiped her fingers on her trousers, gaze resting first on Dendarah, then Kirgipa and the baby before settling on Necos. “You travel with your wife and daughter?”

He nodded. “My sister also.”  He gestured to Dendarah who passed a flask to Nareed. “We decided we’d cover ground faster to Saggara if we left the larger crowd.”

“There’s safety in numbers,” Nareed argued.

“Not where
galla
are concerned. That much blood and magic concentrated in one spot?  They’re drawn to the Kai like moths to a bonfire.”

He was saved from further conversation when Sofiris choked on the piece of fish he was chewing. Nareed thumped him hard on the back, and he spit the partially chewed mush into his lap. He didn’t wipe it away or scrub his lips, simply stared into the distance.

His sister sighed and stroked his hair. “Come, brother,” she coaxed gently. “Let’s go to the river and clean you up.”

Kirgipa watched them leave. “How sad. His wife’s death has destroyed him.”

“Grief can do that to some,” Dendarah replied, breaking sticks into smaller kindling to feed the fire. She peeled off her boots and stretched her feet toward the flame. “You two might want to do the same,” she said. “Or you’ll have foot rot in no time.”

Kirgipa followed her lead, sighing as the fire’s warmth caressed her toes. Necos didn’t move, his gaze steady on the pair by the shore. “Do you think they believed we’re a family?”

He shrugged. “No reason why they shouldn’t. Keep up the pretense. This baby isn’t safe until we deliver her to her uncle.”

“Vengeance again?”  The idea infuriated Kirgipa. The person responsible for this disaster was dead from her own folly. Killing off her innocent relatives wasn’t going to get rid of the
galla
.

This time Dendarah answered. “There are some families who would benefit if the House of Khaskem died out completely. It’s a lot easier to assassinate an infant than a seasoned warrior like Brishen Khaskem.”

Kirgipa bounced her knees up and down, joggling the baby in her lap. The infant giggled and waved her arms in the air. She was a good traveler, a lot better and less whining than many adults Kirgipa knew. “How many more nights to Saggara?”

“Three, maybe four.”  Dendarah reached out and stroked the baby’s soft hair. “Once we get there, we’ll have to find a way to reach the
herceges
without shouting to everyone within hearing distance that we have the Queen Regnant.”

“That’s easy.”  Kirgipa said, happy to contribute something useful to their trio other than baby-carrying and nappy-changing. “I served the human
hercegesé
when she was in Haradis for a short time. She took a Kai servant with her when she left for Saggara. I trained with Sinhue. She’ll take us to the
hercegesé
or the
herceges
.

“I’ve also trained with sha-Anhuset in the past,” Necos said, gaze still locked on the brother and sister. “That might help us. I’ll just be happy to get there. I’m sick of traveling with the
galla
attached to us like ticks on a...”  He stopped abruptly and stood.

Puzzled by his sudden action, Kirgipa followed the path of his stare. The flitting shadows lurking in the trees across the Absu slithered toward the shore. They gathered together, congealing into an oily black mass that shifted into the vague shape of a woman.

For the first time since they’d met them on the path, Sofiris reacted. He spun toward the
galla
, his eyes no longer vacant and far-seeing. The sinister shape solidified even more. Still featureless, it formed long hair that floated in the breeze like waterweed and raised slender arms, reaching out to the brother and sister as if to embrace them.

Gibberish spilled in an eerie voice from an unformed face. Kirgipa recoiled, skin crawling at the hungry, yearning tone. Nareed screamed when Sofiris suddenly lunged into the river, crying out above the water’s roar.

“I’m coming, Iset!  I’m coming!”

“Holy gods,” Necos said before bolting to the shore’s edge. He plunged into the Absu, Nareed close behind him. Water churned as they swam frantically toward Sofiris and the
galla
waiting for him. The womanly shape lost some of its curves, sliding out of form into shapeless darkness before forcing itself back into the silhouette that lured a man to his death.

“They saved him!”  Kirgipa turned to Dendarah with a wide grin, one that faded when Dendarah’s gaze didn’t turn from the river, and her scowl sharpened. Kirgipa looked back. “Oh no.”

Sofiris fought his saviors like a beast gone mad. He bellowed Iset’s name over and over, punching and striking at both Nareed and Necos until the latter got behind him and latched a muscled forearm around his neck. Sofiris writhed and twisted in his captor’s unrelenting grip which tightened slowly, slowly, until Sofiris’s eyes closed, and he slumped unconscious.

“You killed him!” Nareed shrieked, and the
galla
shrieked with her.

Necos shook his head and said something Kirgipa couldn’t hear above the river’s voice but which calmed Nareed. Between the two, they dragged Sofiris back to shore, leaving the
galla
to scream their frustration at losing their prey. The feminine silhouette had long dissolved into a sludge of shadow that boiled in a malevolent froth.

Kirgipa held the baby close and jogged with Dendarah to where the three lay on the ground. Nareed gathered her unconscious brother close, rocking him in her arms and crying. Necos hadn’t killed him, only rendered him unconscious in a strangle hold.

Necos clambered to his feet, dripping water and blood from the numerous cuts and gouges Sofiris had inflicted on him during their struggles.

“You’re bleeding,” Dendarah stated the obvious in a dry voice.

He snorted and smeared a ribbon blood across his neck with one hand. “Just a few scratches. I’m lucky. Had I been any slower, he would have laid my throat open with his claws.”

Kirgipa unwound the sling and handed the baby to a surprised Dendarah. “Watch her. I’ll tend to him.”  She didn’t wait to argue, only grabbed Necos’s hand and led him back to their fire.

They had only a few bits of dry clothing left. With his injuries and night falling soon, they should stay where they were, build the fire higher and let everything dry. She’d insist on it.

Necos followed her orders to strip down to his waist. She laid his wet, bloodied shirt on the rocks, while he sat and waited for her to tend him.

He was an easy patient, neither complaining nor flinching when she cleaned the deep gouges scored into his flesh from Sofiris’s claws.

“We don’t have any spirits to cleanse the wounds,” she said. “And I don’t dare forage for herbs. Pray that these don’t poison. A fever will make it harder for you to travel.”

His lazy smile sent heat rushing up her neck and into her face. “I could get used to such vigilant care by you.”

She ducked her head and continued cleaning his cuts as best she could. Hard to do when his body was bared to her, all sleek muscle and smooth skin where the claws hadn’t reached. To distract herself, she thought of the
galla
. “I hate those things,” she declared. “It’s more than just the hunger.

“It’s the cruelty,” he replied. They delight in pain and suffering. It’s nectar to them.”

She glanced at Sofiris, still senseless in his sister’s arms. “He kept saying his wife’s name. ‘Iset.’”  She shivered. “Poor woman. I don’t want to die like that.”

Necos’s light touch on her chin made her pause and she looked into eyes bright as gold coins. “You won’t, Kirgipa. I swear it.”