The Rise (16 page)

Silvia studied me for a moment, her blue eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “How much do you know about our world, Warrior? How familiar are you with the other races?”

“Almost nothing,” I said. “And not at all.”

Silvia sat back, suddenly looking very tired. “Ah, well, perhaps it is time for a little history lesson,” she said. “So that you can fully understand why your help is required. So that you know exactly what hangs in the balance.”

King William

The dice could fall any way. He was not a stupid enough man not to believe that, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. The Sun Warrior alone was but a small threat compared to the army King William had been compiling. The Sun Warrior
plus
her Accursed-Searcher sister was a
big
threat, one that needed to be addressed immediately.

It was all like a chess game to him. If he could move quickly and surely, he could win the game, and he had great faith in his intellectual skills. The most puzzling piece of the puzzle was the
how?
How could one have half of a Damned soul? How could the girl be half
Lamia?

King William was better versed in the histories of the world than most. He knew intimately of the Great War between the races over a thousand years ago. He knew of the persecution of supernaturals by humans in the very Early Days. He had met Sorcerers and Succubus and Indian Skin Walkers and even a mermaid, once. But never, in all his time on this earth, had he known of anyone who had been half Accursed. It was unfathomable.

But he had lived long enough on his stolen blood to know how to adapt, to survive. The girl existed, in spite of what history told him, and she was a
fearsome
thing. He’d felt that first hand. With her by his side, he could take over all the territories in a matter of weeks. He could bring his long-sought dream to life. He could bring about a New Age, where Vampires ruled all and drank of the blood of the supernaturals, as they were meant to do. No more bland, watered-down human blood. The good stuff. Even the Lamias could have their share, for they were, after all, Sisters, and would be of great use in the coming days.

But the Sun Warrior was a problem. He had met Alexa, had seen the fire burning strong in her eyes like flames fueled by defiance. The Sun Warrior would die before she would let her sister aid him or be controlled by him. And he was counting on this fact. He had a plan. Two birds with one stone, you might say.

The girl, Nelliana, had to be weak right now, fragile. He had felt the darkness in her soul, so long caged within her, could feel its strength, but also its weakness. The gift she had was great, but perhaps
too
great. He had to believe that she was in need of direction, guidance. To have gone unnoticed all this time must have taken some toll on her. He had to believe all these things.

That, and he had to believe that Alexa was like all the other Sun Warriors he’d known in his long lifetime – fueled by their anger, but mostly by their love. He knew that love was the greatest destroyer, the greatest weakness that one could have. He was counting on it.

Yes, quite the opportunity. Now all he needed was the damned Sorcerer. Andre had told him that Syris had agreed to the meeting, but you could never take a Sorcerer at his word. And they certainly were never punctual to an appointment. It was one of those annoying little things that would change in the New World. Sorcerers would be treated like the food that they were, slaves along with the wolves and all else.

But there were things to be done, and sunset fast approaching. If the Sorcerer did not arrive before then, when he did arrive, he would not live to see sunrise.

There was a knock at the door, and a nod from the King sent Andre over to open it. King William knew who was waiting on the other side. He’d known before the person had finished knocking, having reached out with his mind to check. The Sorcerer’s magic kept him from touching his mind, but he recognized Syris still. Forbidding the consumption of Lamia blood was a foolish taboo. The way it strengthened specialties was incredible, and a strong mind was the most powerful weapon of all.

Andre opened the door and in stepped a very tall, very thin man draped in all black. A black, short top-hat sat on his head, long straight black hair spilling out from it to his shoulders. A long velvet coat dragged lightly on the floor behind him as he walked, and he held a wooden cane in his hand, though he carried it rather than using it for balance while he moved. Circular, black-colored spectacles sat on the tip of his nose, and eyes a deep shade of purple stared out over them.

King William rose from the chair behind the Queen’s desk, his charming smile stuck on his old, old face. The perfect mask. “Syris,” he said. “Good of you to come, my old Friend.”

Syris stopped in his tracks, a sneer lifting his thin lips, but his voice came out light and smooth. “Oh,” he said, “is that what we are now, old friends? If memory serves, the last time I saw you was at the Delegation of the Territories, and I caught you in the stables drinking from my sister. Now, after all these years, without ever having contacted me in the past, you send your steroid-filled Warrior to Summon me.” The Sorcerer’s violet eyes narrowed, his hand tightening around his cane. “So you better have a damned good reason for it, William, for calling me halfway across the world.”

King William’s shoulders tightened just a fraction, but he forced the smile to remain on his face as he held his hand out and moved toward the armchair and couch. “I understand your anger, Syris, and I assure you that I did not call you here with an offer that is not worth your while. Come, come, hear me through.”

King William sat in the armchair and folded his legs. When the Sorcerer made no move to take a seat, he had to bite back another sneer. Instead, he turned up his deceptive smile and gestured once more for Syris to take a seat. With a tip of his head, the Sorcerer sat opposite him, his cane resting over his legs, where he clutched it with both hands.

“Talk,” said Syris.

Big man with all that magic protecting him, isn’t he?
The King thought. “I have something you will want,” he said, “something that all the magic and money in the world cannot buy you.”

Syris sat back, his hands still clutching his cane, curiosity slight but present now on his face. King William’s smile broadened. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, his bony fingers clutching at what was inside. When he withdrew his hand, silver dangled from his fingers, swinging a simple silver ring at the end of it. One word was scrolled in elegant black script upon the ring:
Syra.

Syris’ hand flew up to his mouth and he let out a small gasp. King William had to use great effort not to stare at the ring himself. Once upon a time, the ring had been his most valuable possession, a secret he had held so near his black heart that it was a wonder that the silver had not tarnished and cracked. But those days were long in the past now, the obsessions of a stupid, young boy, and he was no longer either. It would be well worth its trade.

The Sorcerer’s voice was tight now when he spoke. “Where did you get that?” he asked.

The King held the chain over his other open palm, where he dropped it into a coiled pile of silver and closed his fist. “
She
gave it to me,” he said, his voice distant. He may have lost the ability long ago to really love, but that didn’t mean the ghost of what once was did not haunt him on occasion. He met the Sorcerer’s violet gaze. “Syra gave it to me. Your sister.”

Silence hung between the two men, thick and noxious. At last, still staring at the King’s closed fist which held his dead sister’s ring, he said, “What is it you want, William?”

King William sat back, smiled. “A simple exchange is all. I need two things from you. Two spells, easy ones, really, for a Sorcerer of your power, and then you may have the ring and leave.”

Syris’ hands tightened harder around his cane, turning his knuckles the color of ashes. “
What
two spells?”

“A Locator spell and a Dream Search,” said the King, letting the fingers that concealed the ring unfurrow, taunting the Sorcerer with his prize.

“What are you trying to find?” asked Syris, and by the strain in his voice the King knew that he was going to get what he wanted. Love truly was the greatest weakness,
especially
love that is lost.

“Two girls,” the King answered. “A Sun Warrior and…her sister.”

Now Syris looked up again, into the King’s cold gray eyes. “A Sun Warrior? So the rumors are true, then. A Sun Warrior walks among us.”

This game was growing tired. King William gave a stiff nod. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” Syris answered, against the better judgment that told him that getting involved in Vampire politics was never a good idea. “We have a deal.”

Alexa

Look what you’ve done, Warrior. This woman is never going to shut up. You just had to ask for a damn history lesson.

We were still in the sitting room, but everyone had left except for Kayden, Tommy, Silvia and me. Tommy looked bored, slouching back on his bench and playing idly with a loose hem on his t-shirt. Kayden was tense beside me, had been the entire time Silvia was explaining things to me, and I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but something told me now was not the time.

“So you see,” Silvia was saying, “a war between the races would be catastrophic. Just the slavery of the villagers would be enough to make us need to take a stand, but that is not the only problem here. Do you understand why we need to move quickly?”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, “I get that the King needs to be…stopped. I saw the villages firsthand, and I already told you that you can count on my help. What I don’t get is why you think that he is planning to try and take over these Territories you keep mentioning. It seems to me like all the races pretty much keep to themselves. Hell, before I came here I had only known that werewolves and vampires existed. What makes you think the King is planning a global war?”

Silvia regarded me with a look that reminded me of her sister. When she had first told me she was Camillia’s sister, I hadn’t been able to see much resemblance; where Camillia was tall and thin, harsh and course, Silvia was short and curvy, all soft angles and delicate features. But as she looked at me now, a little bit of amusement mixed with pity on her face, their relation was clear.

“Because, Warrior,” Silvia said, and I wondered not for the first time if anyone actually knew my damn name. “A man like King William does not build an army just to sit and admire how pretty it is. He builds an army to administer death and punishment. Think about it. He is weeding out the weak, making the strong stronger. He already has complete control over our kind and the wolves. Power like that does one thing to that kind of man. It makes him hungry for more.”

My brow furrowed. I could find no fault in that logic. “But don’t the other races have magic, and, I don’t know, like, other things that protect them? It wouldn’t be so easy just to take them all out and force them into submission. Or at least, I wouldn’t think,” I said.

Silvia nodded, her red, curly hair bobbing around her face. “You’re right, Warrior. But winning a war is not the same thing as starting one. Starting a war is very easy. Entire countries have fallen because of the love of two star-crossed people, over simple things like bread and rice, and of course, over territory.”

“So what is it you want me to do, exactly?” I asked around a yawn. My eyelids were growing heavy. The sunlight beyond the glass walls of the sitting room had faded into a mixture of purple and turquoise and soft pink. Twilight in the Outlands was more beautiful than any I’d ever witnessed in the human world. It was no wonder people had died over the ownership of these lands. I rubbed my palms over my eyes and continued, “I mean, I get that you want me to fight beside you. But, well, what now? What’s your plan?”