“Count yourself lucky. Most humans I’ve met would happily live out their lives without ever opening their eyes at all.”
She slipped her gloves free and unfastened Dowser’s collar to get better scratch his neck.
“Careful there,” Desmeres said, giving her a measuring look as he reached over to fasten it again. “That’s not just for show.”
“Right, right. I’m sorry,” she said, slipping right back into her prior thought. “I don’t want to be in the dark anymore. I want to know things. I at least want to know enough to know how little I know.”
“You give yourself too little credit,” Desmeres said.
“Do I?” She slid closer to him and tugged the chains about his neck to reveal his amulets again. “Then why don’t I know how to make these, hmm? How sheltered am I that I don’t even know how one of these amulets works, and yet you need half a dozen to be safe? Am I so insignificant the sorts of things that threaten you entirely overlook me?”
“Frankly? Yes,” he said, taking her hand and guiding it away from the amulets, his eyes locked upon hers. “At least you were. And that’s not something to be ashamed of. There are worse things in the world than being overlooked by the worst things in the world.”
“But I’m not being overlooked anymore. The Elites are after me, demons I wouldn’t have believed existed are after me. I’m in hot enough water that I need one of the Guardians of the Realm to help me clear my name…”
“Two of them, actually,” he said. “I think both Myranda and Deacon will be needed to pardon you.”
“That isn’t helping!” she said. “Have you always been this awful combination of brilliant and ignorant? Magnificent at making things but wretched at dealing with people?”
“I apologize. If it helps, if I appear rude, it’s because I trust you enough to stop attempting to manipulate you. Because contrary to your assessment, I am actually quite skilled at dealing with people.”
“And there’s that confidence again. You’ve always known you were something special, haven’t you? Always known you had things no one else had.”
“That is fair to say.”
“Well, I haven’t. I wasn’t raised to believe I could go anywhere or be anything, because I couldn’t! That wasn’t realistic! What I was raised to do was scratch as hard as I could to get as far as I could and when I had a hold of something, never ever risk letting it go, because a person like me was lucky to have gotten it in the first place. I’m not built for this sort of life. And now I need skills I don’t have! But I can learn. I know I can learn. So stop being coy and teach me.”
She reached out again, grabbing the chains. “Start here! What is the enchantment? What is the spell? How do I do it?”
Desmeres took her hand in his to steady her nerves, then looked at her evenly.
“Genara, listen to me…” He began, but his voice trailed off as her gaze met his.
The pieces were there, slipping together in his mind, but he’d almost been willfully pushing the revelation away. He glanced aside, watching her twisting shadow as the fire cast it upon the surrounding trees. He touched her face with his hand, soothing her, then ran his fingers down to her neck. They came to rest around the makeshift amulet he’d fashioned for her.
Now it was her turn to grab his wrist, but she was too slow. He flipped it over to find the mark, the very thing meant to protect her, had been hammered smooth. No semblance of the mark of the chosen remained.
“Well, aren’t you clever,” Genara said.
The warmth and vulnerability in her voice was gone. Now she was cold and steady as a frozen lake. He scrambled backward and drew his sword. She stood slowly and drew the stiletto.
“When?” Desmeres asked.
“Almost immediately upon leaving you,” Genara said. “I know you value that confidence and certainty of yours, but it can really be a liability when misplaced. I thought for certain you would have realized something was wrong when the dog wouldn’t quiet down after you left the olo field. I’d taken one of the oloes and trailed you for days. The blasted creature smelled me every step of the way, but you didn’t seem to care. And I can only imagine you genuinely believed I cared enough about you and little enough about her to ignore her when you parted ways.”
“I trusted her to keep the amulet on to protect her from you. And she was sharp enough to keep herself safe from anyone less.”
“Funny thing about safeguards like these,” she said, closing her fist around the useless coin about her neck and tugging it free. “Live a lifetime without needing one and it becomes difficult to notice when it’s gone missing.”
Dowser was backing away from Genara now, his hackles up and his teeth bared. Perhaps the puppy detected a dark influence upon her, or perhaps it was simply her posture and demeanor, but he certainly wasn’t pleased with Genara at the moment.
“What have you done to her mind?” Desmeres asked.
“Very little. When someone has an untrained will, I can afford to be gentle. I only directly controlled her for a few moments total. Long enough to disable your protective medallion and a few lesser tasks. The rest was subtle suggestion. She believed it was all her own idea. Of course, that’s all changed now. I’ve had to shove her aside, since I can’t afford to have you do anything unfortunate. That memory of yours is too valuable.
“I know better than to threaten her in exchange for good behavior on your part. You don’t care nearly enough about others for such a threat to bear fruit… Though I must say, I’m surprised at you. I thought you would have known better than to speak so openly about your plans with someone so vulnerable to me.”
She stepped toward the horses. Desmeres kept pace with her.
“It doesn’t matter if you know about the plan. It doesn’t change a thing. You can’t get to me. And you clearly are too afraid to attempt the cave without me.”
“I wouldn’t use the term afraid. Mindful of my limits. One does not manage exist for the countless lifetimes I have without taking every precaution against the exploitation of what few weaknesses I have. Or at least, what weaknesses I appear to have.”
“You’ll have to throw that caution to the wind now, won’t you? Because if I know you as well as I think I do, you’re too fixated on Entwell to let it go unless you’ve been given a reason to do so.”
“One who is wise does not let something precious slip through one’s fingers.”
She tugged open the saddle bag and reached inside. He stepped up and put the tip of his sword to her throat.
“What’s to stop me from killing her right now?” Desmeres growled.
“You won’t do that,” she said, pausing but not showing any sign of concern. “While I inhabit her body, you know precisely where I am. That alone is a fine reason. But that isn’t the real reason. Like all of the things that drive the creatures of this world and so many others, your failing is in your mind. Just look at what became of you after I killed Trigorah…”
Desmeres tightened his grip on his sword, but held firm.
Genara—or rather, Epidime—continued. “I discard one traitorous woman and suddenly one of this world’s finest and most pragmatic figures devolves into betrayals and self-pity. I genuinely thought in you I’d found a rare example of a creature of this world who shared the level of detachment the other D’Karon and I rely upon. Clearly I was wrong.”
She thrust her free hand toward Desmeres. A wave of energy rushed toward him, striking him like a gale force wind. It was powerful enough to lift his feet from the ground, lofting him over the fire. He struck the ground hard and tumbled a short distance.
When he slid to a stop, Desmeres rolled to his feet and watched as Epidime threw the carefully constructed sigil into the fire.
“Well… at least I know I was on the right track with that sigil. You wouldn’t destroy it if it wasn’t a threat to you,” Desmeres said.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t waste my time speculating on my motivations and instead work out how you
are going to redeem yourself for what you’ve done to me, and attempted to do.”
“What happened to you, Epidime?” Desmeres asked, stalking back around the fire. “I’ve seen you clash with the Chosen and bring them to their knees. Now you seem so weak. That was hardly a spell at all.”
She waggled her finger at him. “Another waste of your freedom, attempting to taunt me. Your free will is at this point a precious thing. Stop squandering it.”
Desmeres ignored the advice, moving with slow caution toward Genara as she dug around in the saddle bag, searching.
“You could make the claim that you have been concealing yourself from the others, but that doesn’t explain our clash in the storehouse, does it? That was you, wasn’t it? Relying upon a wand. Barely able to refill it. And failing to capture me. You’re weak right now, aren’t you?”
“I am, if you must know,” she said, keeping the point of the blade unerringly directed at Desmeres despite keeping her full attention on the search through the bag. “Clashing with the Chosen in a war-ending battle, enduring the rigors of the white wall without even a flesh and blood body to protect me. Those would have destroyed a lesser being.”
“The white wall… that burst of energy from the closing of your portal? Myranda’s account of the battle suggests you were the one who warned her it would occur. If you’d known it was a threat, one would think you would have been wise enough to avoid it.”
“You of all people should know why I didn’t. Bagu wasn’t dead yet. He was enough of a fool to hurl himself at Myranda and the others while they attempted to resist the wall. The prideful dolt would rather see himself and the whole of your world destroyed than let you keep it from him. So I watched to be sure Bagu didn’t succeed. It was a near thing. I wasn’t certain Lain would deliver the killing blow.”
“But Bagu is dead…”
“As dead as Lain. Probably more so. Those demigods are notorious for popping up again even after their mortality has been burned away. But Bagu’s distrust persists in his death. I’d forgotten how truly powerful his wards of protection are. When one triggered while I was going through his personal files it was very unpleasant. Damn sloppy of me.” She smiled, pulling a glass bottle from the saddle bag. It was the jug Desmeres had so recently prepared, the binding potion.
She held it high, ready to smash it to the ground, but Desmeres dove toward her, clutching his hand around hers to keep her from destroying it and holding his short sword to her throat. She moved with unnatural speed, sweeping her stiletto to knock his blade from his hand. He recovered and grasped her wrist to immobilize the blade. Despite her slighter build, with Epidime in control, Genara was easily Desmeres’s match for strength. She grinned and taunted, her voice completely free of effort.
“Really, Desmeres. If you keep this up I am going to have to hurt you. This task will be far easier with you intact, but when all is said and done, the only thing I need is your head. And diminished though I may be…” The jar began to fracture in her grasp. “I am more than a match for you.”
Genara gave a final supernaturally powerful squeeze and the potion bottle shattered, spilling its contents. Shards of glass burst in all directions, causing Desmeres to flinch and turn aside. Genara took advantage, hurling him to the ground beside the fire. Dowser barked and growled, bounding about but uncertain what to do.
“Stop fighting, Desmeres,” she said, pinning his arms to his chest with one hand and clutching at the chains around his neck.
He struggled against her, but it was no use. Epidime’s power, meager by his own standards, still imbued her with a strength and weight that he couldn’t hope to overcome. The chains in her grasp snapped one by one like string, leaving deep welts in his neck. If she tore the amulets away from him, Epidime would have him and all would be lost. He turned his head aside. The crackling camp fire was near enough to singe his shoulder. Another chain snapped and he could feel the mystic protections layered over him beginning to falter. His eyes fixed on a form within the flames. A mad, foolish plan flashed through his mind.
Desmeres wrenched one hand free and thrust it into the fire. Flames seared his skin, but he pushed the pain from his mind and clutched the burning handle of the sigil. Epidime, mere moments from tearing away the last of Desmeres’s protections, noticed too late what was happening. Desmeres brought the burning hot curves of metal down onto the flesh of the hand tugging at his amulets. It sizzled, rolling across the back of her hand and leaving the mark behind. Desmeres saw the change in her eyes, Epidime fleeing her body rather than permitting himself to become trapped by the sigil.
Without his influence, Genara was stripped of both the strength of body to keep Desmeres pinned and the detachment of mind to ignore the searing pain of the burn. She screeched and he threw her aside.
“What! What is happening!?” she cried in confusion, clutching her branded hand.
Her eyes flitted and danced, memories swept aside by Epidime slowly creeping back to her.
“B-by the gods… Desmeres, I didn’t know!” She touched her head with her healthy hand. “All this time… I… I remember it all. I couldn’t stop it…”
“Never mind that,” Desmeres barked.
He held the damaged chains to his neck with his burned hand and staggered to his feet.
“Where are your coins,” he asked. “Kenvard coins. With the mark on them.”
“I… I remember spending them. I spent them all when I was on my way to Melorn. I knew I had plenty of your money left and I… Of course… Of course he would have me spend the money with the mark. Blast it, I distinctly remember making certain I was wearing my gloves when I handed the coins over. It didn’t even seem strange to me at the time.”
“Quickly then. Fetch Dowser. Use the one on his collar.”
She climbed to her feet, favoring the branded hand and reaching for Dowser. The pup backed away from her, growling uncertainly.
“What would you have me do with the coin?”
“Touch it with bare skin. Prove Epidime is really gone.”
“Right, right,” she said. “Come here, Dowser. Come here, you dumb dog!”
She caught the wary puppy rather quickly, not because of restored trust, but because his caution didn’t make him any more graceful and walking backward eventually caused him to back into a mound of snow and topple over. She plucked him up and grasped his collar.
“There! There, satisfied?” she said.
“Good… Good…” Desmeres said.
He pulled a thick swatch of leather from one of his bags and used it to safely pluck the still sizzling sigil from the ground.
“So what does this mean? Am I safe from Epidime now?” she asked, plopping Dowser down again and inspecting her fresh wound.
“I certainly hope so, or this will be a pointless gesture.”
She looked up in time to see him press the sigil against his own already burnt hand, the same one that had been doused with the binding potion when it shattered. He grunted in pain, teeth clenched tight and eyes watering. He dropped to his knees, but kept the brand in place. Because the sigil had cooled quite a bit, he had to hold it in place far longer to make a clear mark. When he was through he tossed it angrily to the ground.
He let the chains slip from his neck and waited. His burned and branded hand throbbed, but he felt no pressure upon his mind, no invading influence.
“Desmeres?” Genara said, kneeling before him. “Did it work? Are you still you?”
“As far as I know,” he said with a weak smile. “A shame we can’t try the same test, though. The mark would burn at me just as surely as it would burn at Epidime.”
She grabbed his chin with her healthy hand. “Look at me.”
Once more Genara looked into his eyes. Her measurement was longer now, gazing deeper than she had before and considering far more carefully. As she did, Desmeres gazed back at her. As they tested one another, he realized the wisdom in this method, the value in knowing one’s gaze. These eyes, these d
eep, brown, troubled eyes… If there was anything to fear in them, anything lurking… he would know. And he felt as she looked into him that she could see his very soul.
“He’s not there. It’s only you,” Genara said.
“I’m relieved to hear it.” Desmeres said.
She helped him stand and the two exhausted allies made their way to the horses to fetch the supplies to bind their wounds.
“So what happens now? Epidime could be anyone now. He could be one of the horses for all we know, or a bear.”
“He could be, but I doubt it. He fled moments before he would have had his prize, which means the sigil is a genuine threat. He won’t face us again until he has a means to overpower us without a threat to himself. That means he’s coming well-armed and with reinforcements.”
“Couldn’t he just take control of a whole pack of wolves?” she asked.
“He can only occupy one form at time. That much was made clear in our prior clashes.”
“So he’ll bring an army. That doesn’t set my mind at ease.”
“There was already an army on the way, remember? We summoned the Elite ourselves. When they come, Epidime will be with them. This changes nothing.”
Desmeres applied the first of several bandages to his badly burned hand. Genara merely stood, eyes distant, remembering.
“No…” she said quietly.
He turned to her. “Genara?”
Her eyes glistened with tears and she put her healthy hand to her mouth. “Desmeres, the note to the Elite… I remember now…”
#
Commander Anrack rattled uncomfortably along a poorly maintained road. Owing to the nature of the journey, he’d opted for the rare luxury afforded to those with his rank and resources. Rather than riding on horseback, he was in one of the passenger seats of a sturdy coach. It wasn’t a plush and opulent vehicle by any means. It was a thing of utility, a prisoner transport that had been gutted and fitted with a few mildly more comfortable seats. Nevertheless Anrack felt disgusted that he’d permitted himself even this level of removal from those under his command. He was a leader. He was meant to be on horseback beside his men, not hidden away behind windows and doors shut tight against the stinging snow. For now, though, he would allow himself the comfort of the enclosed vehicle, as they were merely traveling through the Lowlands. There would be no battle, and there was the prisoner to look after.
The Redemption of Desmeres Page 34