The Spark of a Feudling (23 page)

****

Christian prowled, the raw energy eating away at him like a demon. The portion of his army that he hadn't sent in opposite directions sprawled out beyond him, waiting for his orders. And he was bored. Bored of the war. Bored of running from the Edrens. When the angry flames were not running rampant, all he could feel was regret and shame and self-hatred.

“You really want to create a council to control your forces?”

A man, a man whose name he should know by now but didn't, flitted around him like a fly. Christian wanted to swat at him. He was at least ten years Christian's senior, already balding and fat, but he fed off the power the same way all Christian's Carules warriors did. It made them hungry for more — more fighting, more blood.

All this time, he'd wanted power. He'd wanted people to respect him, to follow him. Now he had it and he would give it all back for one more day as a groom in Ada's stables.

“Yes,” he replied tersely.

“But without your training—”

“I'll still be here to train. I'm not dying, man,” Christian snapped. The man winced and backed away, just two steps, but his frightened eyes were on Christian's hands.
I'm not a monster. Not right now, anyway.

At the outer edges of his camp, there seemed to be some sort of squabble, and he squinted, trying to see through the heavy rain. “What are they fighting about?” he asked, but since he didn't know he doubted this man knew, either.

The man turned, firing orders at someone just outside the tent, and that man ran off into the rain, presumably to see what was going on.

There was a flash of bright red light as the tents on the outermost perimeters burst into flames. And Christian knew what was going on. They were under attack. The fire roared to life inside him, and he raced into the storm, nearly colliding with the messenger and several other wild-eyed, frightened Carules. “It's the girl! The one who leads the Edren forces. She's here!”

Ada. Ada was here.

Christian froze, his eyes going where his feet would not. He could see her now, beautiful in her fury, her long black and red hair loose, tumbling in angry curls down her back. Flames exploded from her hands as she was attacked again and again and he remembered so many times he'd watched her win battles he would have died in.

And he'd thought she was powerful then.

He barely recognized her now. Her eyes didn't sparkle. Her face was hard. And she moved with a cold, calculating anger that had none of the passion she'd fought with before. Had it really only been months since he'd seen her?

You killed her mother. You tried to kill her father. Of course she's hardened.

“She also believes you killed her husband,” Charity said from behind him. His poor sister, nearly blind in her madness, followed the army camp because she didn't feel safe anywhere else. She was much too ill for such a life, but still she was here, although she stayed hidden away, usually. The shock of her appearing at his side almost made him miss what she'd actually said.

“Not that it matters who I killed or did not kill because one reprehensible act is as bad as another,” he said, turning his eyes back to Ada, who seemed intent on taking out his entire army all by herself. “But I did not kill her husband. He was not at the manor when I was there. Nor was he with Ada in Charnock.”

“No. He wasn't. Her father killed him.” Charity's voice was hollow. Christian wondered how much of this conversation she would remember later. He wondered if she was really here with him at all.

And then he realized what she'd said and his chin dropped. “He what? Why would he do that? And she blames me?”

“William threatened to take Ada away from him just by marrying her. Richard couldn't have that. But he needed the farce of the alliance.” Charity's eyes were caught in the dim silver glow she couldn't seem to escape from. Without Scarlett, Christian had no idea how to help her. But his mother had realized what he'd done and left him. He hadn't heard from her in months. And as Ada had predicted, Christian's healing side was mostly completely dead.

She was gaining ground. Soon she would see him. “Charity, you are in danger. You need to leave.”

Charity couldn't see. She relied more on her visions than her eyesight now. She didn't realize that Ada would kill them both. And she stubbornly dug in her heels. “I am not leaving, Christian. Not until you do.”

Suddenly Ada was right in front of them, not even three yards away. The kill spell burned in front of her, waiting to be pushed at Christian's chest. But she'd seen Charity. And froze.

“Ada,” Charity whispered.

Warriors swarmed them, spells flying from all directions, but Ada fought them off and from behind her, more Edren spells attacked. Ada flew into movement, dancing out of the way as she fought back, her attention momentarily driven away from him. Christian could kill her. She couldn't fight off every side at once. She might be powerful, but so was he.

He raised his hand, his rational side warring with the angry flames overtaking him, but the anger won, as it always did, and he burned the spell and shoved it forward.

She was gone.

His warriors chased her, but she moved too fast. She was an Edren, after all, and while he could teach them her spells, he could not make them as fast or as powerful as she was. He didn't know how Richard had infused the Edren power into him, so he couldn't do it to them. Nor would he put anyone else through that madness. He caught glimpses of her as she flew around the tents, like a vision he couldn't quite grab.

He turned to tell Charity she must leave, but she, too, had disappeared. His blind sister lost in the midst of a battle of fire. He spun in circles, looking desperately, but she was nowhere to be found. He called her name three times as he raced through the smoke and the flames, but his sister was gone.

The Edrens, too, disappeared as quickly as they came, and although his Carules gave chase, they could not find them. If he had to wager a guess, he'd bet they had not looked very far. There had been fear in their eyes facing the daughter of the powerful Edren Family.

****

“I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him.
Why
could I not kill him?” Ada sobbed. She punched the tree nearest her, felt it break all the bones in her hand as the bark tore the skin from her knuckles, and she welcomed the pain. It was as if seeing Charity had pulled her out of her self-induced emotional death. It had shocked her awake, and she did not relish being awake. Being awake
hurt
. And it was confusing.

Davis sighed, pulling her away from the offending plant, and reached into his saddlebag for bandages. Neither he nor Harrison said a word as Davis wrapped her hand. They'd been joined by several dozen Edrens eager to weave themselves into Ada's cause. It was not what Ada had wanted — to be responsible for more lives. She dropped her head in defeat. She didn't know what she wanted. She could have killed him, but she hadn't.

Because the man looking back at you was your Christian.

Yes. That was it. It was his eyes. They hadn't been black and angry. They had been the kind brown eyes she remembered. Not the evil blackness that haunted her nightmares, looming above her as she fought to free herself…

“Ada.”

The sound was almost lost in the pattering of rain against the leaves. She caught it just as it blew past her, winding its way around her fire.

She whirled, jerking her hand out of Davis's grasp as her eyes searched the shadows of the thick trees through the rain. White hair and pale skin looked unearthly in the darkness, sending chills of terror up and down Ada's spine. “Charity! What are you doing here? Don't you know how dangerous it is?”

“I have a message for you,” Charity said, her voice exhausted, hollow. Sad.

Ada hurried to the trees, frowning when Charity's dimly glowing eyes did not follow her movement. It took her several seconds of her brain trying to find its way through her exhaustion before she realized Charity couldn't see her. “Charity, why are your eyes glowing like that?”

“Ada, I have a message. Before anything happens, I must tell you—”

“My father has found you, hasn't he?” Ada shrieked. Everything.
Everything
she'd done had been a waste. Her father was still trying to take Charity's gift.

“Ada, listen to me!” Charity shouted. Several of the Edren warriors looked up in surprise, rising to their feet with spells blooming from their hands.

“It's fine!” Ada said, placating them with her palms raised, making sure they could see that she was not in danger. Slowly, they went back to their fires, their meals, their wounds. She had failed them today, not killing Christian. And yet, they did not complain.

“Ada, this war will last for hundreds of years. Not until the one who houses both Carules and Edren flames is killed… one must die…” Charity swayed on her feet. “You must stop the war, Ada. Or so many will die, and it's my fault.”

Ada leaped forward and caught her before she fell. “I'll protect you, Charity. I won't let them hurt you again.”

“Ada,” Charity moaned, “You will have a daughter. She will be the most powerful sorceress the world will ever know. And she will die. In three hundred years, she will die. And she will save us all.”

Clearly, Charity had lost her mind right along with the rest of them. Richard had finally driven her to complete madness. But Ada would not let her go. She turned on one of the men. “You… travel to my father's camp. Tell him I've found Christian Buttercroft and he is to meet me at the bridge in two days' time. When the sun sets, I will do his
saldepement
spell.”

The man nodded and without question rose to his feet, saddling his horse. “Don't go alone! Are you daft?” she yelled. “You and you—” She pointed awkwardly while still balancing Charity in her arms. “—Go with him. We're in the middle of a war, people! You don't travel alone!”

Harrison grinned, reclining back on his elbows near the fire where, thankfully, he was cooking something besides bunny. “You do.”

“That's different. I have a death wish. He,” she jerked her head toward the man readying to leave, “does not.”

****

Christian tossed and turned on his sleeping mat, unable to find solace. His sister had not been found. He had searched tirelessly but there had been no sign of her. Outside his tent, a branch cracked and he jerked up, stumbling outside. “What is the meaning of this?”

Two burly Carules, missing teeth and burned in more places than Christian could count, stood outside his tent, grinning quite proudly. “We apprehended an Edren messenger party. Two of them escaped but the third—” They exchanged malicious smiles. “The third we caught and got a bit of information from. The duke is meeting his daughter on the bridge in two days' time.”

Christian's flames roiled eagerly in his stomach. He had failed this day, but he would not fail again. “That witch has taken my sister. She will pay for this.”

****

The doorway shimmered open and Ada had to swallow her fear. She glanced over her shoulder at Charity, sitting silently on the edge of the bridge. Her eyes still faintly glowed, although in two days they had dimmed enough that she could see.

“Father. How good to see you.” She hugged him as he stepped toward her, as strong and robust as ever.
Of course he is. He's feeding off the war… and so am I.

She banished that thought. She could not kill this man. He was all she had left in the world and she loved him. Despite everything, she loved him desperately. He was her father. But there were times when she would have liked to lock him in a dungeon where he couldn't hurt anyone any longer.

“You left my army,” he said sternly, holding her at arm's length so he could see into her face. She flushed and looked down. The bridge was old, the boards covered in moss and rotted in places. She kicked at a loose nail with the toe of her boot, watching as it splintered the wood and fell into the raging river below.

“I know. I'm so sorry, Daddy. I wanted to find Christian. I was overcome with blood lust. And I have found him. We can end this war now! All you have to do is kill him!”
Because I cannot.

The duke chuckled, stroking her cheek. “Ada, darling. This war will go on for centuries. Not until the most powerful Edren ever born kills the most powerful Carules. Then, the war will end.”

Ada backed away, horror making it difficult to swallow. She had been right. Despite all her praying that she was wrong, she'd been right. “How do you know that?” she whispered.

“I—I have—”

“He knows because he's taking my visions.” Charity spoke for the first time and Richard jumped like a guilty child. Ada looked over her shoulder where Charity stood, balancing precariously on the bridge railing.

“But you won't do it again, Richard. Never again will you lock me in a vision so you can take my gift.” Charity laughed, a crazy, frightened, heart-broken sound.

Ada's heart stopped. “Charity, Charity sit down. You're going to fall—”

“You will always be my truest friend, Ada. I love you with all my heart,” Charity whispered. Richard started forward at a run, and Ada, faster than he, picked up her skirts and raced down the bridge, but she was too late.

With one last, slow wave, Charity spread her arms and threw herself backward.

“No!” Ada screamed, diving for the side of the bridge. The railing tore at her already mangled hands, but she barely felt the pain. Richard grabbed her, holding her tight, pulling her back. The drop was several hundred feet to a wild and hungry river.

“Ada, it's too late! You can't save her!” He stroked her hair, murmuring over and over as she sobbed.

“Charity. No, please, Charity,” Ada whimpered.

“What have you done? What have you done to my sister?”

Richard released her and spun. Ada tumbled away from him, landing hard on the broken boards. Her elbow broke through, the sharp wood splintering in her skin. She scrubbed her tear-soaked cheeks and stared in horror as Christian advanced across the bridge, several Carules warriors behind him. His face was a hard mask of pain and fury, spells blooming from his hands.

The first
lirik
shot at Richard's chest, but her father dove out of the way just in time. The next one, she knew, was coming for her. She struggled to her feet, willing flames to light, willing her magic to defend her. But she just couldn't care.

Suddenly Harrison was there in front of her, shoving her backward as he took on Christian himself. And the rest of her small band of Edrens, swarming the bridge behind her. With a mighty cry, the Carules attacked. Richard stood at the forefront with Harrison and Davis, and Ada could only stand numbly behind them and watch.

But no. Harrison and Davis were her friends. They had protected her, taught her, trained her. She would not let them die. Her flames awoke, scalding her hands, and screaming, she fought her way to the front, throwing out thick walls of flames, driving the Carules back off the bridge. Her Edrens gave chase and she made to follow them.

Pain shot through her shoulder as a spell skimmed past her, just missing her back. She spun, burning the
lirik
into the air as she dove to the side. Christian stood alone on the bridge, tears soaking his cheeks. “You killed my sister.”

“Christian, you don't understand. I didn't—”

He threw another spell, and another, but they were slow and they weren't kill spells. She danced out of the way, knowing she could not attack him. Her heart wouldn't let her. If he had been the crazy Christian, then yes. But this was her Christian, attacking her out of grief and fear and pain, and she could not fight back.

“Why, Ada? Why did you take her? You said you would protect her!”

“Christian, please, if you would just listen!”

He threw another spell, slower this time, and finally his hands dropped to his side. “Why can I not kill you?”

“I cannot kill you either,” she said quietly, but still he heard her from across the bridge, over the roar of the river and the cries of battle. “Do you know about her vision?”

“Yes.” His voice was hollow. Exhausted. His shoulders slumped in defeat. Beyond them, she could hear the screams of the dying. But here, she imagined she could hear his breath.

“The war will not end until—”

“I will not fight in this war. Not again.” Christian interrupted her. “I finally beat the flames, Ada. You said I wanted them and I would not beat them until I did not want them.” He turned to the side of the bridge where Charity had thrown herself, and Ada held her breath, but he stopped as if unable to face her death.

“I still love you, Ada.” She barely heard his whisper over the frantic, desperate beating of her own heart, and she struggled to hold on to his words. With one last, long look, he spun away and sprinted off the bridge.

“I love you, too, Christian. Always. Forever.”