Sworn To Conflict: Courtlight #3 (30 page)

Reading her eyes, the general said, “Brings back fond memories, doesn’t it?”

She let loose a shaky laugh as tears graced her eyes. “Yes, but just like then you’ll be fine.”

He laughed. “You don’t know the legends, do you?”

Ciardis shook her head. “With the bite of a wyvern comes death,” he recited softly.

“Enough,” said Maris. “You’re not dying.”

Neither Ciardis nor Barnaren believed her.

When Maris opened up his armor to see the wound in his side, they all blanched at the black sores and pus that met their gazes. It had only been minutes, and his right side had already putrefied.

Maris sucked in a harsh breath. She turned to her assistant. “Get three head healers here
now
.” She roared the last word and turned back to her patient.

“Maris,” Barnaren said with a smile, “you’ve served me well.”

He turned to his second-in-command. “You know what must be done, Batheas.”

The major nodded and walked off.

“Ciardis,” said the general.

“It’s fine, you’ll be all right! Don’t waste your breath,” she quickly interjected, rambling.

“Let me say what needs to be said,” he commanded firmly. “You need to know this.”

“Let me get Sebastian,” she said, looking around.

“No! I said you.” His voice was firm, his eyes sure.

Ciardis looked into his eyes and knew what he had to say would be vital. She focused all of her will and attention on the dying general.

“Do you know why I was so caustic to you when you confronted me about the Sarvinians and the Daemoni?” he said, wheezing for a breath.

She shook her head, silent.

“Because I wanted you to be angry with me. Because even if you distrusted me, you would do right by the people around you,” he said. “I know you, Weathervane. You do what is good, what is right, even when you hate a person. I trusted that you would fulfill your duty here no matter the cost. No matter what.”

“And now that we have defeated the three tests, we have time,” he said.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “You knew. You knew what would come from the Daemoni deaths.”

“I knew,” he admitted. “The knowledge has been passed down in my family. The old gods believe in ritual. Follow their rituals and beat them at their own game. The three deaths and the defeat of the three wards of the
bluttgott
ensure that we will have time before he comes forth. At least half a year’s cycle.”

“Time for what?” she asked.

“Time for you to prepare the empire. We don’t have the object. You don’t need it. Not to imprison him once more. You need the dragons. Get them on your side. Fight the war with them, and you will win.”

He jerked up in a spasm, and then lay back with his eyes closed.

The man who had served his empire the only way he knew how died before her eyes.

A
s they moved back to the camp, Ciardis said to Sebastian, “We have to go back to court. We have to convince them of the danger and get everyone to fight against the
blutgott
when he comes.”

“We don’t know if or when he’s coming,” countered Sebastian.

Ciardis looked at him as if she didn’t know him. “Did you see the same battle that I just did?”

“Yes,” Sebastian said, “but I’m not convinced we can’t contain it from here.”

“Contain it?” Ciardis said with disbelief at the same time another voice said, “You can’t. It’s impossible.”

Ciardis was surprised to see her often-missing Companions’ Guild sponsor standing before them. Otherwise known as her mother, Lillian Weathervane.

“M—” She had almost slipped and called her “Mother” until she saw the sharp look on her mother’s face.

“Lady Serena,” said Ciardis after correcting herself. “What are you doing here?”

“My,” said Serena with a cold smile, “that’s no way to speak to your sponsor.”

Ciardis shook her head, fumbling to act normal. “It is when good men died all around us and you hid.”

Sebastian watched Lady Serena with a blank face. Ciardis could tell he felt the same way but was too well trained to show it.

Serena stepped forward and hissed, “You have no idea where I have been or what I have done in the name of the empire.”

Ciardis rolled her eyes. “Take a number. There are many good people who have died in the service of this empire.”

“People like Caemon?” Serena said, her voice a taunt.

Ciardis rounded on her in a fury. “How dare you talk about my brother!” Forgetting for the moment that she spoke to her mother. The woman stood in front of her looked and acted like the very vision of her despised sponsor with beautiful blue eyes and perfectly coiffed blonde hair. Not a drop of blood anywhere on her or a mark on her clothes, while Ciardis stood carrying a sword that dripped with blood, in tunic and pants covered in gore.

“He was trying to help,” Ciardis said through gritted teeth.

“Let that be a lesson to you, Miss Weathervane,” Serena said with sharp and cautioning eyes. “An untrained Weathervane who stumbles around poking her head into places will end up doing more harm than good.”

Ciardis settled back as she read Serena’s eyes. They may have been blue, but she could see compassion in them, buried deep, and knew her mother was under that illusion. And more than that, she was warning her of eminent danger.

Ciardis nodded in understanding.

“I’ll be more wary in the future.” It was as much of an apology as Ciardis was willing to give for her hasty actions in the sanctuary that had allowed the Daemoni to draw enough power to wreak havoc in the first place.

General Barnaren’s second-in-command, Batheas, came forward and said, “I’ve sent orders to the men to regroup and scour the fields for any lingering effects. We’ll have the bodies gathered together for a proper burial.”

He continued, “The Daemoni and the Harpies are in a pile, being prepared to be burned.”

“Thank you, Major,” said Sebastian.

The man snapped a salute and went back to ordering his subordinates around.

When Ciardis turned back around, Lady Serena had disappeared again. She sighed in irritation and looked over to the growing pile of
kith
bodies. The enemies lay haphazardly on the small mound. Even from a distance, she saw a whole body lying at its base.

She swallowed and gripped her sword tightly, walking forward. She wasn’t ready to cry out an alarm. He wasn’t moving. It was just so strange to see an intact body after the hours of hacking and slashing. As she got closer to the reclining form, she recognized him. It was Thanar. He lay untouched by blood and gore. His hair fell in wisps across his forehead and in a long braid down his side. If he hadn’t been lying back on a pile of bodies and there wasn’t a small hole in his chest where blood blossomed in a ring, she would have thought he was sleeping.

And then she said, “What happened to the arrow that slew you?”

It wasn’t anywhere near his reclining body. She had checked. And yet it should have been dead center in his chest.

She stared at him and noted the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She turned to run and call for a guard but before she did Thanar’s hand shot up from the ground. His dead hand. She let loose a scream, one of primal fear. But it made no sound. Her mouth opened, her vocal cords moved, but nothing emitted from her throat. She felt a curious sensation crawling up her arm, like the feel of fire. It held her in place, unable to move, and reminded her uncomfortably of the truth serum which had been used on her.

She was petrified. Her body stayed standing still. Unfortunately she stood on a far corner of the pile. Out of sight of most of the men and the ones she would call her protectors.

Slowly Thanar’s eyes opened. Thick lashes swept back until she was able to look down into his dark brown irises. He looked up at her and smiled. The smug bastard.

“Weathervane,” he croaked. “What a pleasure to see you.”

Rage flowed into her eyes.

“Ah,” he said. “You’re upset. About this?”

He squeezed her wrist to emphasize his meaning.

“Or was it the
bluttgott
ceremony? I assure you, they both were extremely necessary.”

She still couldn’t say anything. And apparently he couldn’t rise with a hole through his heart. So they were at an impasse.

“Tell you what,” he said casually, “I’ll let you talk. Scream or call out, and your vocal cords will burn until you’ll never be able to speak again.”

Hatred sparked in her eyes.

“Daemoni promise,” he said with a smirk. “Now, let’s see what you have to say, little Weathervane.”

He broke the binding that kept her silenced.

“You tricked me, you convinced me that you were here to help,” she said swiftly, with hatred in her voice.

“I was there to help. Help my people who faced genocide at the hands of your emperors.”

She bared her teeth in a snarl. “You killed hundreds of innocent
kith
.”

“And brought their kin’s freedom ever closer,” he said, “You think we don’t know how you treat the
kith
of your own empire? You segregate them on little pieces of land when they used to rule this entire empire. They are nothing more than the dirt beneath your feet.”

True surprise filtered into Ciardis’s mind. “That’s not true.”

“When was the last time you saw a
kith
outside of the Ameles Forest?” he said softly. Now he was able to lift his head.

“I saw them all the time in the northern areas when I lived in Vaneis,” she retorted.

“Where? On a farmer’s cart, shot dead for trespassing on his land?”

She was silent. She had seen such a thing a time or two.

“They were predators—”

“—trying to protect their homes,” he said, finishing her sentence for her.

“So what? You’re trying to protect all of the
kith
everywhere now? By killing them off?”

“Whatever it takes to finish off the greater evil,” he said with a wheezing cough. “They would have died of the mine poison anyway.”

She clenched her fist and then felt surprise rush over her. She was able to clench her fist. To move those muscles. She was free. But then she noticed something astonishing.

He was healing.

“How?” she said, astonished.

He looked at her with wary eyes. Still vulnerable, as his chest cavity knitted itself back together.

“What kind of magic would—” She halted and explored the feel of the magic coming from him. It felt like Sebastian and his connection to the land, but...feminine? What was this?

She grabbed her knife and thrust it at his throat. Pressing down hard, she said, “I will cut your throat, and that won’t heal. Now tell me: Who are you really?”

He laughed. “I am who I always said I am.”

“And who is that?” she asked softly.

He looked up at her. “I am Thanar, High Prince of the Daemoni Clans and the land that you have stolen for your own.”

Her knife held steady but her voice faltered. “You’re a descendant of the clans that were wiped out during the Initiate Wars.”

“Yes.”

“Now tell me this,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “Were you there when the gates on the princess heir’s project fell?”

His eyes shifted color. Darkened. Deepened. But he answered her.

“How did you know?”

“Just tell me, what did you see—”

“Midnight fire...and death flaming,” he whispered. “It came at me.”

“What came at you?”

Lifting his head painfully, he leaned forward to whisper, “The—”

But it was too late, and a blast erupted from beneath the earth. Ciardis was thrown back.

Flaming rock spewed up as shouting and curses reverberated from the soldiers surrounding the now-flaming corpse mountain. Linda Firelancer stood in flames so tall that they looked like they would consume the skies. Ciardis had last seen Damias’s widow on the prow of the ship out far out to sea. She had helped her stabilize the Weather Mage. Now it looked as if Linda needed her own counseling. Linda stepped out of the flames in a skin-tight red suit that repelled the heat. With the flames roaring behind her, she looked as if her hair was on fire.

Smiling, she looked over at the Daemoni prince who lay collapsed on the ground and said, “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

“Wait,” screamed Ciardis as Linda threw a flaming ball so massive that it consumed the earth around Thanar.

“Wait,” whispered Ciardis in disbelief as she watched the spot where the healing Daemoni had lain. “He was about to speak.”

She looked up at Linda. “Where did you come from?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been on the emperor’s mission...”

As everyone seems to be
, thought Ciardis uncharitably,
and everyone has conflicting tales as to why...

“My mission has been to find and eliminate any Daemoni threats. This is the last one of the leadership consortium.”

“So you’re the one who killed my brothers,” cooed a voice from midair.

Ciardis and Linda Firelancer’s heads snapped up to see who had spoken, but Thanar was on top of the Fire Mage before she could even comprehend what was above her. He landed on top of her with a heavy
thud
and thrust his fingers directly into her throat without pause. She jerked up and gurgled blood out of her throat, and then he ripped his fingers out. She collapsed soundlessly to the ground.

Standing, the Daemoni prince spread his wings to the sky as he stretched and threw the remains of the woman’s throat away carelessly.

“My, that felt good,” he said joyfully.

Ciardis wasn’t sure if he was speaking about spreading his wings or killing Linda Firelancer.

In the end it didn’t matter, because he was surrounding in seconds by soldiers with pikes.

“Take off and we’ll spear you,” Sebastian said harshly.

The newly healed Daemoni prince smiled. “What, no intention of killing me again?”

Some of the soldiers growled.

Ciardis knew why. They wanted to kill him but they weren’t willing to risk going through the
blutgott
trials again. Quite the quandary.