by Emma Miles
A force like a charging bull hit Dia full in the chest and she was thrown back, landing hard on the scorched ground. She rolled onto her knees, coughing hard to re-open her crushed lungs. Somehow, she managed to retain her shield, Everlyn backing toward her as she scrambled to her feet. The conflagration dissipated and through the heat haze, and smoke Dia glimpsed the young Chemman, he seemed totally unscathed, above them the storm continued to build, the ravens circled high above the castle. Dia gestured for Everlyn to move to the left, while she circled around to the right. Doroquael slowly slipped out of the fire that consumed the gallows, moving silently toward Inari.
Dia raised her hands, forming a tornado around herself that ripped stone and earth up from the courtyard. She advanced on Inari, the air around her picking up speed and ferocity. Doroquael blasted him from behind, tearing burning wood from the gallows to hurl like jagged spears. Everlyn called all the power she could muster to attack his right side. Inari didn’t flinch, but for a moment his storm faltered in its growth. His smile had gone, and he frowned, his lip curling upward a little on one side. He turned his attention to Everlyn and Dia felt a stab of fear. Everlyn was no fool, though, she dropped her attack immediately to shield. It was enough to save her, barely. She was thrown across the courtyard to hit the castle wall. Dia held her breath, eyes wide. Everlyn moved her arm, she was alive.
Doroquael made himself huge and Dia increased the speed of her approach, carefully balancing the air around her at the same time as trying to reach for the gathering storm. Inari batted the fire-spirit away, but his frown increased, and he staggered a little. Dia let go of her tornado, stepping out of it to blast Inari with an intense blue flame at the same time as drawing lightning down toward him. He shielded, the lightning caressing the shell of it and sparking off the stone on the ground. The tornado hit him, and she heard him cry out, but he ripped it apart. He was little more than a boy, but he was stronger than anyone Dia had ever faced before.
She was breathing hard, her vision beginning to blur. She didn’t have much left.
Temerran moved around to help Rosa hold onto the Queen, who spat, scratched, and wailed like a child. Tantony and Worvig were using their bodies to brace the gates. Vilnue was halfway down the stairs from the battlement, Heara guarding the door to the castle although her wide eyes were on Dia. On the broken dais, Arrus and Dalton now stood side by side between the King and the magical battle.
Dia drew power, but Inari yelled, ‘Stop!’
Dia held but didn’t let her magic dissipate.
‘Look to your king!’ Inari snarled.
Both Arrus and Dalton glanced behind them.
‘Your majesty!’ Dalton threw himself to the ground. The King was fitting, his muscles convulsing and his eyes bulging.
‘I have his mind.’ Inari smiled, his green eyes hard. ‘I can control his body. You will surrender, or he dies!’
Dia turned back to the boy, her eyes barely flickered as a small figure stepped out from behind the burning gallows.
‘He isn’t my king.’ Dia shrugged.
‘Icante!’ Vilnue cried out in shock.
Dia felt the boy draw power, saw the flames begin to form at his fingers, she used the last of her power to shield herself, ducking instinctively.
Inari cried out, his mouth stayed frozen open as he stared at Dia, he tried to send his blast of flames, tried to reach up for his storm, but his knees gave way and he fell forward onto his face.
Catya stood behind him, her hands on her hips. Her small dagger protruded from Inari’s back.
‘Hmph.’ Catya looked up at Rosa and grinned. ‘Better than letters, just like I always said!’
With a cry, Rosa let go of the queen and dashed across the courtyard to grab Catya and smother her face in kisses. Dia let herself sink to the muddy ground, both Temerran and Arrus rushing over to assist her. Ayline made a run for the castle but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the expression on Heara’s face.
‘Bractius?’ Dia demanded, trying to see past her husband.
‘Alive,’ Dalton called out.
Dia narrowed her eyes at the Merkis, she’d deal with him later, but for now … ‘Tell your warriors to stand down!’ she commanded. ‘Let’s get the King to his bed and find a healer!’
Dalton glanced at Ayline. ‘What abou—’
‘Secure her in her room for now,’ Dia suggested.
‘Come on, love.’ Arrus put his hands under her shoulders and lifted her to her feet. ‘We can sort them out later. Sleep first.’
She didn’t argue but leaned on his arm as he led her inside the castle.
Catya placed her foot on Inari’s back and pulled out her dagger, cleaning it on his shirt before placing it back in its sheath on her belt. Rosa tutted and shook her head, but she grinned when she held out her hand to the girl.
***
Dia woke slowly, her head too heavy to lift off the pillow and her eyes were gritty and dry. She could hear soft voices and she forced herself to roll over onto her side.
‘Dia!’ Arrus got up from his chair and came to sit on the edge of the bed. She looked around the room and saw Heara was sitting in front of the door. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Tired.’ She smiled. ‘But I didn’t have a nightmare for the first time in days. What’s happening?’
‘Well.’ Arrus raised his eyebrows. ‘Tantony and Rosa have pretty much taken over running everything, I think that idiot Dalton is too ashamed of his mistakes to argue much. The Queen is protesting that she was as bewitched as the King and is a poor, innocent victim.’
Dia sighed. ‘To some extent, I imagine she is, but there is jealousy, ambition, and greed in her heart. What of Bractius?’
‘He sleeps.’ Arrus shifted on the bed. ‘Worvig is guarding him along with Dalton.’
She nodded. ‘Everlyn?’
‘Resting, she is well but for bruises.’
‘And Catya?’ She closed her eyes and smiled.
Heara barked a laugh. ‘Running the castle with Rosa. There’ll be no controlling her after this.’
‘I don’t know,’ Dia said quietly. ‘I think perhaps she has exchanged one defence for another.’
Heara leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. ‘I’ll watch her, but right now what she seems to need is a mother, and that mother, whether they know it or not, seems to be Rosa.’
‘It was Rosa who found me.’ A shadow passed across Arrus’ face and his eyes grew distant. ‘They had me locked in a wine cellar with four guards on the door.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘A very nice vintage it was too!’
Dia closed her eyes and shook her head, but she couldn’t help smiling.
Dia pulled herself up and Arrus moved out of her way so she could stand. ‘Get everyone together in the King’s private audience room, including Dalton.’
Heara nodded and quietly left the room.
‘Can I ask what you’re planning, Icante?’ Arrus reached out and took her hand.
She glanced down at him and squeezed his fingers. ‘Not revenge, as much as I’d like it. Sadly, we’ll have to forgive some of what was done to secure the future of the islands, but trust me, we will never forget.’
She got dressed, the smell of her clean change of clothes was pure bliss after being in the same dress for days. She chose trousers and a tunic, Arrus buckled her short sword around her waist. She kissed him, then headed for the door.
The King’s room seemed uncomfortably small with so many people crowded into it. Dalton had taken up position behind the King’s desk, he struggled to meet Dia’s eyes as she entered the room. Catya was perched on the desk beside Rosa who’d been given one of the chairs, everyone else had chosen to stand. Heara and Vilnue stood together beside the door, Temerran and Tantony flanked Merkis Dalton. Arrus was the last to enter and he closed the door behind him.
‘Worvig?’ Dia asked her husband.
‘Still with the King,’ he replied.
‘I have to ask.’ Dalton looked a
round at them all, his fingers twitching into fists when his eyes rested on Dia. ‘Is the King your prisoner? Because—’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Merkis.’ She frowned at him. ‘As always, the Fulmers protects your king, not threatens him, I would have hoped you understood the difference by now.’
Dalton’s face reddened. ‘What do you propose?’
‘Once I’m satisfied Bractius is out of danger, we will return to the Fulmers. Sadly, I will not be leaving an ambassador here. Your king will have to do more than apologise before any walker ever sets foot here to help him again. As for your queen, I will leave her for Bractius to deal with. Quite frankly, I think they deserve each other.’
Dalton opened his mouth to speak but closed it again quickly as she continued.
‘Merkis Tantony and Rosa know how to run a Hold well, I suggest you let them take care of Taurmaline until the King is properly back on his feet. In the meantime, we’ll try to get hold of Jorrun and Kesta, see if they know anything of Inari and if he was working alone or for Chem.’
Rosa’s eyes were shining, but Tantony shifted his feet and glanced at Dalton.
‘Merkis Dalton, you may leave,’ Dia said.
‘What?’ Dalton stared at her. ‘You can’t dismiss me!’
She tapped at her lip with one finger. ‘Let me see … as I recall it, you allowed yourself to be influenced by an enemy of Elden and collaborated with a plot to kill your king. You imprisoned me – the person most able to defend your king – and threatened war against Elden’s greatest ally. Shall I go on?’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ Dalton protested.
Tantony cleared his throat. ‘Looked like it to me.’
Dalton shook his head. ‘Tanton—’
Tantony roared, making nearly everyone in the room jump. ‘You are dismissed!’
Dalton glared at them all but strode toward the door.
‘Vilnue,’ Tantony said. ‘You will head the investigation into Dalton’s innocence – or guilt.’
‘What?’ Dalton spun about to look at Tantony, but he unclenched his fists and nodded. ‘I’ll cooperate fully, Merkis.’
Heara opened the door for him with a grin, then pushed it shut behind him with her foot.
‘Do you think it was just that Chemman boy?’ Tantony asked Dia.
‘I hope so,’ she replied. ‘But it will be as well to be cautious. As for the Queen, I don’t think she poses any danger on her own, not now anyway, but she will bear watching in future if Bractius lets her live.’
Rosa’s hand went to her mouth.
‘When will yo—’
‘Icante!’ A sibilant voice filled the room before Doroquael squeezed through the keyhole and shot across the room, making himself bigger. ‘Icante! Dire news from the fire realm! No Drake dares leave the realm to come to the land under the ssky, the god of death walks in Shem!’
‘What do you mean, god of death?’ Heara demanded.
‘Hacren! The preissts raised him! He … he walks in Jorrun’s body!’
Dia froze, even her lungs stilled. She looked from the darting fire-spirit to Temerran.
‘I’ll recall the Undine,’ the Bard said.
‘Are we going to Chem?’ Catya asked timidly, her eyes wide.
‘Yes,’ Dia said. ‘Yes, we are.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jorrun; Covenet of Chem
The darkness was complete. He could feel nothing, neither cold nor heat nor the ache of his body.
Am I dead?
Had someone in the throne room of Arkoom slain him and left his soul to linger, trapped, with no way of knowing how to escape? His first thought was of Kesta, was there any way he could get to her, tell her he was sorry, sorry he had let her down again? Was there any way to know she was safe?
He felt something at the edge of his senses and hope surged through him. It was … it was emotion; but not his. He cautiously reached for it, trying not to hope, trying to keep his own feelings in check. It felt a little like dream-walking, although as far as he knew he hadn’t entered someone else’s mind. He tried to go over what had happened but his memory resisted. He’d killed Feren. As far as he recalled nothing had touched him, neither magic nor weapon.
The emotion fluttered close, stronger than before. It didn’t feel quite right, like a note that was off key, as though there was a buzz within it. There was triumph there, but wariness, suspicion.
Jorrun edged a little closer, pausing as his own fear tried to emerge. It had been panic, terror, his inability to keep control that had allowed Karinna to trap him months ago. He had to be careful this time, much more careful. It was time to be the Dark Man again.
He moved closer.
Light.
He steadied himself. The emotions he could sense barely flickered and Jorrun suppressed his own relief. He crept closer still, the light suddenly filled his mind and he could see. Not clearly though, it was like scrying without using blood to reach a specific person. Everything seemed far away, blurred, but there was Osun’s face before him, distant, lined with worry. He was talking but Jorrun couldn’t hear him. His brother left the room and the perspective changed, whoever he was within had sat down.
The emotions intensified, veering toward anger and lust. Something brushed Jorrun like a single thread of web across his face, a thought.
Jorrun retreated, worried his excitement might give him away. He needed to do much better at stilling his own mind and heart. He needed to assess what was happening, judge the strength of the one who seemingly held him captive. Was this his own body, or someone else’s? He couldn’t be sure.
It was hard to tell what time was passing, but it seemed like long moments between his attempts to gather information as though for some moments he ceased to exist. He established he was still in the palace. Osun was there from time to time but he didn’t look at all happy, more importantly, from the movement of his brother’s lips, whoever he was inside of was being addressed as ‘Jorrun’. He considered fighting, but without being sure he could win it seemed too big a risk at present. As far as he knew, the other presence didn’t know he was there, if he gave himself away, there was every chance he could be destroyed.
From the change of the light outside the palace windows, he judged that two days passed. During that time, whoever had his body didn’t seem to sleep. He was shocked when he felt a surge of power, it flashed past him, through him, but he wasn’t able to grasp it. He rushed at the light, fearful of what he would see, and sound exploded around him. He froze, trying desperately hard not to feel anything, not to think. The words seemed to come from far away.
‘Jorrun, Wait!’ Osun yelled.
There was a snort, closer, the voice that came out was his own. ‘Why, brother? You won’t be safe while these sorcerers live.’
Magic surged past him again and he saw fire through the window of light. There were screams and he saw two men trying to shield themselves. They were Chemmen and no one he recognised. He couldn’t see Osun. Another blast of fire and both Chemmen were engulfed. Osun’s horrified voice came from behind him.
‘I might have been able to reason with them. They may have joined us.’
‘What, like that traitorous idiot Tembre? Don’t be a fool, Osun.’
His brother came into view as Jorrun’s errant body turned toward him. There was such sadness on Osun’s face that Jorrun retreated rapidly, afraid of giving himself away.
Who, or what, was it that controlled his body? How could such a thing even happen? He needed his books. He thought desperately for a long time, but the closest thing he could think of that matched his situation was the necromancy that raised the dead, or dream-walking. As far as he knew, you could only control a mind through dream-walking, not a body, although you could convince someone to harm themselves. Necromancy though, a powerful necromancer could possess a body, make it do what he wanted, even see and hear through it, just as he was now. Only he was no necromancer, and as far as he knew, his body wasn’t dead.
Could someone, something, possess a body that was still alive, one with its soul still intact?
Apparently so.
The key seemed to be going into the light, but could he take control? He wanted desperately to try. He wondered if he could do it subtly, carefully, like manipulating a dream without the dreamer being aware. He took a chance. He moved slowly, using every ounce of his patience.
Jorrun’s body seemed to be eating, for a moment he tasted the salt and fat of the meat on his tongue. There was a glass of wine. He imagined picking it up, letting the liquid trickle down his throat. Just like dream-walking, he pressed the suggestion forward.
His body reached out and took the wine, taking a big gulp.
Jorrun froze. Was it just coincidence?
Only one way to know. He waited and tried it again, only this time it was water he imagined wetting his mouth. He pushed a little further forward until sound came flooding into him.
‘You!’ his voice shouted. ‘Bring me water.’
Jorrun withdrew, slowly, slowly, trying not to rush back to allow himself to feel excitement in the safety of the darkness. It worked, but how could he best use it?
He found the answer to that the next evening. He felt the emotions of his cohabiter rise, there was anger and a strong flavour of fear. He crept into the light to look. He was in a dark room, possibly a tower. Other than a bed, a table, and chair, there was little in it. The fireplace was stacked ready, but unlit. Two others were in the room, their heads shaven and wearing robes of a startling red. Priests.
One of them held something in his hand. Jorrun struggled to retain control when he realised what it was, his book, his gift from Kesta that had saved her life.
‘Give that to me!’ his voice said, he saw his own hand reach out to snatch the book from the priest. He threw it on the desk. ‘If you need to learn the words in it, then I’ll teach you.’