“That is all I could wish for,” I answered. “My companions will be unharmed until I return.” I said it as a declaration, but there was certainly a question in my mind.
“The father wishes to see them as well.”
That was unexpected. Considering their current level of paranoia I hadn’t thought they would allow all three of us that close to the tree. Then again, the decision had obviously come from Tennick, and he must be curious.
I gave the formal bow expected in such situations, a sort of half bow with a sweeping flourish, but it was wasted on the Kriteck. They were not created for courtesy or diplomacy, they were created for protection and their minds were not overly cluttered with etiquette. Why bother, when they would only live a few months?
They led us on a narrow path through the largely untamed wilderness. It was evident that if we had not been with them they would have moved much more rapidly. Indeed, if we hadn’t been worried about creating an incident it would have been much faster for us to fly, either with my machine or via dragon-back. Neither Gareth nor Moira suggested such a thing, though. We walked and we didn’t speak unnecessarily.
We passed a multitude of island life, small mammals and birds mostly, but a few island deer as well. None of them showed the slightest sign of fear at our passing. Large predators were noticeably absent and it was clear that humans were a novelty here. The fauna here had never been hunted.
Our journey took hours and I had no idea how much further we still had to go. My magesight’s range was limited and my normal vision was completely occluded by the jungle canopy. I knew I should be looking for a massive tree, but until we got within a mile or so of it I would have no way of knowing it was close. It was nearly dark when we finally reached it.
“What is that?” asked Gareth quietly.
He hadn’t specified what the source of his question was, but I imagined it must be our destination. “This armor impedes my senses somewhat, but you’re probably talking about Tennick. How far away are we?” I responded.
“About a mile and a half,” said Gareth, “If that’s really him. It’s huge.”
Fifteen minutes later I was able to confirm his observation, “That’s him.” The tree in question was some sixty feet in diameter at the base and it rose up over four hundred feet in height. “He’s done well for two thousand years.”
“Done well? Do they get bigger than this?” asked Gareth incredulously.
I shrugged, “They can. The most rapid growth occurs in the first few hundred years. After that they slow down, but they never really stop growing. They have quite a bit of control over the process though, so it varies a lot.”
“I don’t understand. You talk as though you know them intimately,” observed my companion.
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Beyond the human memories I had inherited, the loshti also contained an incalculable record of the Illeniel She’Har going back over stretches of time that boggled human reason. “I know more than I should,” I said and left it at that, but in my mind’s eye I saw visions of the past, cities grown from thousands of such trees harmoniously linked together.
“What are those things rising up around it?” questioned Moira. “You said there was only one tree.”
“Most likely they are offshoots. The father-tree can expand in a vegetative manner, sending up new parts of itself from the roots. Their cities were grown in a similar manner,” I told her. “In this case I can’t be sure but given the arrangements they might be specialized Kriteck.”
“How so?”
“They create the smaller ones from fruiting bodies that grow from the main tree, but if something exceptionally large is necessary he could grow them like that, as large offshoots,” I said, trying to explain.
Gareth spoke then, “Why would he make them that large?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, but inwardly I worried. The Kriteck were produced for two primary purposes only, defense and war.
Chapter 20
A loud knock sounded from the door, a heavy masculine rapping. The Queen’s guard was usually more considerate before announcing visitors, and the King himself didn’t bother knocking, which left only a few possibilities. The person at the door wasn’t her guard and was therefore most likely to be a close friend or family member.
Genevieve glanced at Elise, the same thoughts passing unspoken between them. She nodded and Elise crossed to the door.
Opening it, she started speaking immediately, “Thank goodness you’re here, Dorian. We’ve been…” Her words stopped short. Andrew, the Duke of Tremont, stood in the doorway. An odd smile graced his features. Behind him a large number of guardsmen in Hightower’s livery filled the antechamber. The Queen’s doormen were not in sight.
“You seem surprised,” said Andrew his eyes bright with barely suppressed glee, or perhaps insanity would have been a better term.
No, thought Elise, that’s bloodlust, or blood and lust. Her eyes darted over him, noting the stains on his clothing as well as his ruddy complexion. He’s drunk, but not from wine. Her mind processed that information before reaching a looming abyss—the unthinkable had occurred. No! She stared at him in shock before bowing meekly, “Your Grace, your visit is most unexpected.”
“Of course it is, bitch. Now get out of my way,” he answered disdainfully, pushing her aside. His men began entering behind him. “Four should be sufficient,” he commanded quietly. “Close the door. The rest can guard the hall.”
Genevieve had not stirred from her seat. “Have you no knee for your Queen, Andrew?”
He laughed, “You were never my Queen, Ginny, but that is about to change. The time for genuflection is at an end.” Glancing at Lady Thornbear, he spoke commandingly, “Take a seat, whore. Over there.” He pointed at a chair to one side of the room.
Before Elise could move, Genevieve spoke up. “Not there, come sit beside me Elly.” She indicated the chair closest to her.
Tremont looked amused, but he made no move to dispute the change in seating. “You always were a stubborn one, Ginny.”
Genevieve looked at him with barely suppressed anger, “You were never this mad, Andrew. What have you done? Why are you here?”
“Why, I’ve come to discuss our wedding. Why else would I be here, Dearest?” he replied. Stepping forward, he took a seat across the table from the two women. But for the strange guardsmen in the room, they might have been about to have tea.
Genevieve Lancaster’s eye twitched ever so slightly, but she gave no other sign of distress. Still, Elise could see the strain of the emotions playing under the surface of her friend’s calm demeanor.
“You might recall that we are both already married,” said Genevieve.
Andrew smiled, “Wrong on both counts.”
The Queen’s hand was shaking now, so she hid it in her lap, clutching her dress to keep it still. Desperate she looked at her friend, “Elly, would you be a dear and fetch some wine?” Looking back at her husband’s murderer, she asked, “Would you care for a glass?”
Tremont licked his lips. “It’s a bit early in the day, but I must admit I am a bit parched.”
“Where were we?” said the Queen.
“I was just about to offer my condolences on the passing of your husband,” said the duke smugly. “I also thought I might explain your current options to you,” he added.
Genevieve froze for a second, and then her eyes went to the wall where a decorative dagger was displayed.
“Don’t even think about that, Ginny,” said Andrew soothingly.
“You killed him, didn’t you?” she said bitterly. Her shoulders sagged slightly as the words left her lips.
“This isn’t my blood,” said the Duke of Tremont, lifting the front of his shirt. Elise placed three glasses of wine on the table.
“Presumptuous bitch!” he snarled at Lady Thornbear. Snatching up the glass she had placed before herself, he threw the contents in her face. “How dare you think to drink in the presence of your bett
ers?”
Neither woman moved as an uncertain tension filled the room. At last the Queen spoke, “Please sit down, Elise. Andrew, I would thank you to be more considerate of Lady Thornbear.” Lifting her wine, she drank half the glass in a long swallow.
“My apologies,” said Andrew. “It’s just that I am not used to sharing wine with whores. I shall try to be more tolerant.” He lifted his glass to his lips before pausing. His eyes were on the two women, but neither so much as glanced at the other. He took the glass away and instead offered it to Elise. “In fact, take my glass, Lady Thornbear. My behavior was rude.”
Elise’s expression did little to disguise her hatred. “You are most kind, but I have lost my taste for wine.”
“Drink it,” he responded evenly, one hand moving to his sword. “Or would you rather I make your Queen drink instead?”
“You think I poisoned your wine?” said Lady Thornbear with a raised eyebrow. Reaching out she took the glass from his hand. She took a large drink before setting it on the table. “Perhaps that will satisfy your worries.”
Andrew’s expression changed to rage, and his hand swept and struck Elise with a heavy backhanded motion. She fell to the floor, stunned. “Try not to look so wounded. My men will take care of your concerns shortly,” said Tremont venomously. Turning, he addressed Genevieve, “Let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we?”
“You’ll hang for this, bastard,” replied Genevieve Lancaster. “But before that, why don’t you lay out the details of your crimes for me.” Her face showed a new resolve.
“Watch your tone, Ginny, else I may change my mind,” warned Tremont.
She glared daggers at him, “Very well, what are these options you were rambling about?”
He smiled. “You can take a coward’s death and face immediate execution, or you can be more rational and marry me. It would go a long way to ensuring stability during the transitional period.”
“You think you can be king?”
“Someone must be,” he countered.
“I have children,” she answered.
Andrew’s face assumed a mocking expression of false pity. “There has been a terrible fire in Lancaster. I am very sorry for your loss.”
Genevieve’s eyes started with tears, but her voice remained cold, “What of my daughter?”
“I have yet to decide, but if you spurn me, she will make an even better choice for Queen. She is still young enough to provide me with heirs after all,” he said thoughtfully.
He will kill one of us regardless, thought Genevieve, if he hasn’t killed her already. “Very well,” she said, “Execute me. I prefer that to any alternative that includes taking to your bed.” Disgust was written in her features. My death might spare her life.
He laughed, “Oh, I was afraid you might say that. Did you think I would be noble about your death? It won’t be an easy one. I’ll have my fill of you before I slit your lovely throat, Ginny. Then I’ll feed your remains to the pigs, along with your husband’s. After that we’ll see what Ariadne thinks of her options.”
Genevieve sighed before reaching out to take a glass from the table. Her hand passed over her own to grasp the one that Elise had offered to Tremont. She drained it in a single draught.
Elise gasped and started to rise, “No!”
Andrew Tremont was startled. “So it was poisoned! You nearly had me, bitch.” He sneered at Lady Thornbear. Looking at Genevieve he added, “Don’t think that will stop me. I’ll have my pleasure of you before you die, and your daughter after that.” On his feet now, he started to approach her.
“The poison is a potent one, and easily passed through the skin. I would encourage you to do just that,” said Elise coldly, stopping him in his tracks.
Andrew growled in frustration, but he didn’t move. Then he barked an order to his men, “You! You do it.”
None of his men moved, fear and uncertainty in their faces.
As soon he looked away, the Queen lunged toward him, her hands scrabbling at his belt, seeking to draw his dagger. He struggled with her for a second before pummeling her to the floor with his gloved hand. A solid kick to the stomach made certain she didn’t get back up.
Elise drew a slim bodkin from beneath her dress as she surged toward her friend’s assailant. She nearly reached him before one of his men clubbed her shoulder with a heavy truncheon. Something popped as she fell, sending waves of pain radiating through her. Her right arm was numb, and the dagger fell from her grasp. Snatching it up with her left she threw it at Andrew.
Her aim was poor and it missed, slicing the Duke of Tremont’s left cheek as it passed. The world went black as something struck her skull, and she shuddered painfully as more blows struck her body where she lay on the floor.
“Don’t kill her, yet. I want to see whether she really is poisoned.” That was Andrew’s voice, though it sounded as if he was speaking in a cave. Elise’s vision began to return but it was blurry and disjointed. Someone lay sprawled nearby. She assumed it was Genevieve.
“Watch them,” said the Duke of Tremont. “I’ll be back shortly. Once the palace is secure we can lock them up.”
After he had gone, the two women lay in silence. Elise couldn’t be sure, but she thought there were still guards in the room, watching them. Not that it mattered; she could barely breathe, much less move. Some of her ribs had cracked, making it impossible to draw more than short desperate gasps of air, and her right arm was still numb. As her vision cleared, she found herself staring into Genevieve’s eyes. The other woman had crawled closer, though she was clearly badly hurt as well.
“You shouldn’t have drunk the wine, Ginny,” said Elise between gasps.
The Queen of Lothion’s reply was slow and pained, “I knew. It was better than living if what he said was true.”
Elise Thornbear’s vision grew blurry again as tears filled her eyes. “You were always braver than I was.”
“Not true,” answered Genevieve Lancaster sadly, “You drank it first. If I have to die, it could be worse. I don’t want to be without them—or you, my best friend.” Her hand snaked out, to close around Elise’s.
Except the poison won’t kill me, Ginny, thought Elise woefully. My body is inured to it. You’ll die without me. She didn’t say that however, clutching her friend’s hand instead. “We’ll be together ‘til the end.”
“We’ll see them again,” said Genevieve. “Gram and James will be waiting for us.”
“I’m sure of it,” answered Elise. Her breath was coming easier now, though the poison was making her nauseous. She would be sick for days, even without the injuries she had taken.
“And the children,” said the dying queen with a catch in her throat.
“No!” argued Elise. “I know a liar when I hear one, Ginny. That man was lying. They’re fine. He was tormenting you with lies.”
“Is that true?” asked Genevieve drowsily. She had taken in much more of the wine and the poison was having its effect, causing her eyes to glaze.
“I swear it,” said Elise with conviction. She had always been a good liar. “And when Dorian gets here, they’ll pay in blood.”
“Dorian was always a good boy.”
“Mordecai too,” said Elise.
Genevieve rolled her head a little, “My nephew is gone already.”
“No,” said Elise. “He isn’t gone far enough, not for this lot. If Dorian doesn’t kill them all, Mort will make them wish they were dead.”
“Tell James I love him,” said Genevieve, delirium was setting in.
Elise Thornbear felt her throat close as her emotions overwhelmed her. Finally she choked out, “We’ll tell him together.”
“You’re right. I think I can see them…” Genevieve’s voice tapered off. She did not speak again.
Chapter 21
Dorian sighed, his collar itched and the midday sun wasn’t improving matters. His mother’s note had been a welcome distraction. Rose had been planning to visit Penny, a reconciliation vi
sit, and her anxiety over the matter had made her a real pleasure to be around. Her tension had transmitted itself to both Gram and their daughter Carissa, with the result being a confusing chaos.
The strange message from his mother had been almost a relief, arriving just in time to help extricate him from an awkward conversation. It still seems odd, though. Mother has never asked me to come to the palace on such short notice before.
The only part that really bothered him was that he had to change into his best clothes. His normal attire was rather more ‘functional’, and the rest of the time he wore armor. While his more formal clothes were slightly more comfortable than armor, they were just as hot, and he never felt quite as at ease in them.
Rose had already begun loading the children in the carriage when the messenger arrived, so he chivalrously offered to walk to the palace instead. Despite the heat and the extra time, he felt he had definitely gotten the better end of the bargain.
The Grandmaster of the Knights of Stone had just turned the last corner, and now he could see the palace looming ahead, several blocks away. The road he was on ended at the front gate, but something about it bothered him. The gate is closed. Why is the gate closed? He increased his pace without consciously thinking about it.
The guardsmen who were normally posted outside by the street were conspicuously absent. Dorian’s eyes searched the top of the palace wall, but he failed to see the sentries who should be patrolling. That didn’t mean much though; they might have just passed out of view. The gate bothered him anyway. The gate is never closed, only the portcullises, he thought, and it was true—except in time of war. In fact, the gate was so rarely closed that it merited special attention once yearly, to make still it was still in good working order.
He was within twenty yards now, so he decided to call out, “Ho, the gate!” He slowed his steps as well. A long minute passed, and Dorian repeated his call several times before a face appeared in one of the arrow slits immediately above the entrance.
“What do you want, making all that racket!?” said the guardsman.
Mageborn 05 The Final Redemption Page 18