Journey Of Thieves (Book 5)

by C. Greenwood

  Kinhira tried to change my mind, and we debated long into the night. A stranger came and went, removing my nathamite shackle and replacing it with the false one. I allowed him to do it and joyfully embraced my magic once again, now the barrier between it and me was gone. But I remained determined.

  Later, after everyone had given up trying to persuade me and had gone to their beds, I lay awake for a long time, gazing into the coals of the dying fire and wondering if this was my last night to live. The final thing I felt as I drifted off to sleep was the vaguely uncomfortable bite of the false shackle digging into my flesh.

  My dreams had not been restful lately, and tonight was no exception. I dreamed of Myria admonishing me and of all the inhabitants of Swiftsfell dying because of my stubborn refusal to use every tool at my disposal to save them. Mixed in were memories of Hadrian in the old days, lecturing me about duty and honor. And Terrac? He faded in and out of my dreams, sometimes appearing as the young man I now knew, other times reverting to the annoyingly self-righteous boy he had been at our first meeting years ago. I awoke more confused than ever.

  It was nearly dawn.

  Chapter Twelve

  The trial took place in a cavernous arena with elevated seating that seemed to hold the entire population of the fortress. The noise of the gathered audience bounced around the walls in a blend of voices, laughter, and shuffling, stamping feet that I tried to close my ears to.

  As I waited at the edge of the arena, Drejian guards surrounded me as though my enemies feared I would flee. They weren’t far wrong. My mouth was uncomfortably dry as I watched Radistha before me, making a speech to the gathered spectators. I understood only a few words but made out that he was explaining what brought us here and what was at stake for the two combatants.

  Kinhira was at my elbow. He had, in fact, stayed with me all morning, and I was grateful to have one supporter at my side. I had never figured out what he thought of me personally, but there was no question that, if only from allegiance to his master, he wanted my victory. That made him the nearest thing to a friend I had in this place.

  As the queen came into view, I licked my lips nervously and wondered if I would ever see my real friends again. Would I set eyes on Terrac again? Or was this my last day, my final hour?

  An unexpected commotion from behind drew my attention, and I turned to find Tadra pushing her way through the guards to reach my side. After her strange absence all morning, I had thought she might not attend the event, but here she was.

  Her face glowed with excitement. “I have brought something to help you,” she said mysteriously.

  My hopes rose as I saw what it was. “My bow? How did you come by this? I thought it was lost for good.”

  Looking pleased with herself, she handed it over along with an unfamiliar quiver filled with arrows. These simple arrows of Drejian design looked incongruous next to my beautifully constructed Skeltai bow, but I cared nothing for that.

  Tadra said, “I heard your weapons were taken at your capture, and I thought you would fight with more confidence if you had them back.”

  She didn’t know how true that was. Kinhira had helped me choose my weapons earlier—a short sword and wooden shield. The sword had never been my strongest weapon, and I had no experience fighting with a shield nor time to practice with this one. Kinhira had insisted that with the queen’s choice of weapon a shield would be a necessity, and I had trusted his advice. But having my own weapons as backup was a tremendous relief.

  The instant I closed my fist around the wooden arm of the bow, I felt it vibrate to life beneath my fingers as if it had been waiting for me. As it glowed warmly against my skin, I imagined I could hear its whispered greeting tickling along the edges of my mind.

  Just as in the old days, we were one.

  With a surge of renewed energy, I accepted my throwing knives, which Tadra had also obtained, and tucked them into their usual places before slinging the bow and quiver across my back.

  Kinhira cut into my thoughts. “My master is now explaining the rules of the trial. He says that while neither combatant will use magic to obtain a cheap victory, both are permitted the manmade weapons of their choice. Also, that the fight is to the death and no outside forces will interfere.”

  Queen Viranathi had begun parading around the arena to the cheers of the crowd. She still wore her royal circlet with its curtain of golden beads trailing down her back and shoulders. But she had exchanged her jewels and scarlet garments for half armor that shielded her breast and abdomen. She had adorned her already bone-tipped wings with more sharp spikes of gold that glinted with her movements, beautiful as they were deadly.

  I looked at her formidable build and the muscular wings rising above her shoulders and thought the great trident in her hands was almost unnecessary. She could kill me just as easily with her clawlike fingers or a well-aimed slap of a wing. I banished a quick mental image of Martyn being pierced by Micanthria’s wing.

  Radistha left off speaking and exited the area. Kinhira’s gentle nudge informed me it was time. I realized suddenly that I hadn’t offered him or Tadra the thanks I probably owed them for getting me this far. I opened my mouth to do that very thing when I was silenced by the trumpeting of a loud horn that filled the arena and bounced off the rock walls.

  The trial by battle had begun.

  I met my opponent at the center of the ring, and we circled one another, weapons at the ready. I had never liked fighting against polearms and was hesitant to be the first to attack. My shield was an unfamiliar weight on my left arm, and the short sword was almost as awkward in my other hand, adding to my feeling of unreality.

  As if sensing my hesitation, the Drejian queen mocked, “You are weak without your magic, dragon slayer. This hour you will answer for Micanthria’s blood with your own.”

  Never much of a prefight taunter, I ignored her threat and looked for a weak spot in her armor. Under the arm or at the neck was usually good.

  Angered by my silence, she continued, “You magicker friends will also pay for your crimes. Too long have I suffered their insolence. When I have finished feeding your entrails to the ravens, I will unleash the might of my winged warriors on Swiftsfell.”

  For reply, I feinted to the right to get a sense of how she would defend. As I thought, she flared her broad wings as though preparing to take flight. But instead of lifting off the ground, she stood firm and thrust her formidable trident at my torso.

  I made another attack, real this time, but didn’t make it beyond the length of her weapon. The sharp prongs of the trident bit into the shield I instinctively raised at the last instant. I was startled by the strength of the blow, and my arm throbbed at the hard impact.

  Disengaging myself, I caught a glint of cruel pleasure in my opponent’s eyes. She could break past my puny defense anytime she pleased, I realized, but she was enjoying prolonging the match.

  I launched another assault, and she casually deflected my blade with the haft of her weapon. She beat her broad wings, stirring up the dust of the arena and throwing grit into my eyes, and ascended into the air.

  It was the opening I had been waiting for, and I threw down my sword and shield to draw my bow from my shoulder and fire off an arrow at the figure hovering above me. The shaft bounced harmlessly off her breastplate, and before I could loose another, my enemy descended in a fury of wings.

  She attacked simultaneously with trident at the front and wings swiping at me from either side. I barely had time to scramble after my shield. My discarded sword was beyond reach. Exchanging my bow for one of the knives tucked up my sleeve, I knew it was a ludicrous match for the trident, but what else could I do?

  The trident crashed into my shield, and I planted my feet, shoving back against it with all my strength. Viranathi hadn’t expected that, and in her confusion, I got close enough to shove my knife into the gap in her plate mail. A fountain of bright blood spewed from the wound under her arm.

  But she seemed not to feel i
t. Fighting more viciously, she beat back my shield with a series of quick blows that left my forearm numb. I let the clumsy weight slip off my arm and stood before her, all but helpless.

  Defend yourself. You know what you must do.

  It had been a long time since I had felt the bow’s influence nudging at the back of my mind, but it was there now. I thought of the false nathamite I wore around my ankle and almost gave in to the temptation to draw on my magic to save myself.

  But I didn’t.

  One of Viranathi’s heavy wings descended, smacking me to the ground. Dazed by the blow, I slid a short distance across the sand. The world dipped and spun around me, and as I crawled to my knees, I became aware of the cheering from spectators on the fringes of the ring. My panting breath rasped loudly in my ears.

  I blinked against the salty sweat and grit in my eyes as my enemy’s shadow came looming over me. I sensed, rather than saw, her raising her trident for the killing strike. A quick succession of images flashed before my eyes. Brig, my old nemesis Rideon the Red Hand, Terrac…

  As the trident fell, I instinctively threw out a hand as if to fend it off and pushed a wave of magic against the Drejian queen. It was the same trick I had used against the dragon, Micanthria, shoving all the fear out of myself and into my enemy.

  Viranathi froze as the wall of magic crashed into her, a look of startled terror glazing her eyes. Then she stumbled backward in confusion, her great wings flapping clumsily to lift her off the ground. She retreated high into the air and circled the arena.

  Devoid now of fear or any other emotion, I drew my bow and nocked an arrow. I didn’t try to control it this time but let the bow direct my aim. I was unaware even of loosing the arrow until I felt the fletching graze my fingers and the tension of the string snapping back.

  I didn’t see where the arrow struck. One instant Viranathi was swooping through the air, the next she was plummeting downward. I fired more arrows, not even counting how many had time to hit their target before she crashed into the ground.

  At her heavy impact, the earth shuddered beneath my feet. Dust swirled around the Drejian queen, and the arena became hushed, silence descending over the spectators. I didn’t have to cross the ring to be sure Viranathi was dead. I could feel it in the bow’s satisfaction.

  Prince Radistha and other officials entered the circle and ran to the motionless body. After a brief examination, Radistha pronounced Queen Viranathi defeated and the wingless magicker the righteous victor. The waiting audience erupted in mingled celebration and protest.

  I wiped a dirty forearm across my sweaty brow and sank to the ground to recapture my breath. Adrenaline draining away as swiftly as it had come, I tried to comprehend what had happened. The sense of victory swelling at the edge of my consciousness wasn’t my own. For me there was no triumph, no rush of relief. All I could think was that at the crucial moment some instinct of self-preservation had made me draw on my magic despite all my intentions to the contrary.

  The false nathamite around my ankle felt unnaturally heavy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Immediately after the trial, I was escorted back to Kinhira’s home by the Drejian warriors. Seeing my confusion, Kinhira reassured me these guards were only with me now for my safety. The outcome of the trial had, in theory, immediately left me a free person. But there was a high probability not all the trial’s spectators would be pleased with the outcome, and some might attempt to avenge Viranathi’s death.

  Despite Kinhira’s assurances, I was uneasy. I did not know Prince Radistha well enough to place much trust in him. I couldn’t help but wonder, as I was marched away, if some dark fate was in store for me. What if some of the officials or spectators had noticed my use of illegal magic during the trial? But at least the guards allowed me to keep my weapons. The recent fight had left me so exhausted I wasn’t sure I could muster the energy to defend myself if I needed to. But the weight of the bow across my back was reassuring, as was the magic hovering within reach.

  It turned out that I had no need of these defenses because the warriors delivered me, as promised, to Kinhira’s door. Tadra, who had accompanied me home, ushered me in and tried to make me comfortable. She drew a tub of hot water for my bath and laid out fresh clothes of her own for my use. I could see she was excited to discuss the trial but was too polite to press me for conversation when I was clearly tired. I soaked in my hot bath, feeling the aches and weariness seep from my muscles. All the while, scenes from the trial played through my mind. I couldn’t quite bury the guilty knowledge that I had cheated to obtain my victory and worried I would be found out.

  Even if I wasn’t caught in my deception, what was going to happen to me? Would I really be allowed to go free after killing the Drejian queen? Or, now that his dirty work was done, would Prince Radistha go back on his word? What assurance did I have that he would not betray me as easily as he had his rival?

  Kinhira had stayed behind when Tadra and I left the arena, and it was another hour before he returned. By then I was dressed again and had rested as much as my anxious thoughts would allow.

  For someone who had taken so long to return home, Kinhira was impatient. He said, “My master has decided you must go at once. You will not spend another night in the mountain.”

  “What is the great hurry?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”

  “Not wrong, exactly,” he said. “But some of the queen’s supporters are unhappy with the results of the trial and are pressing Prince Radistha to declare the results invalid.”

  “And what does that mean? Is Radistha going to go back on our agreement?”

  Kinhira’s expression was offended. “My master will keep his end of the bargain, as you have kept yours. But it is difficult for him to control the actions of others, and it may take some time to bring his enemies in line. Meanwhile, your presence will only increase the tension. It will be easier for him to manage his detractors and transition to his rightful place on the throne without you before the people’s eyes, reminding them of the late Queen.”

  He hesitated. “Besides, your friends are making trouble.”

  My ears perked up. “What friends?”

  “Not an hour ago, a pair of wingless strangers were captured as they attempted to enter our gates by stealth. They claim to have come to rescue you.”

  My heart beat faster. Could it be?

  “Where are they?” I demanded. “They have not been harmed?”

  “No. In deference to you, they were merely disarmed and imprisoned. Prince Radistha is prepared to release them to you immediately.”

  “If the three of us depart quickly and quietly?” I guessed.

  He agreed. “I can take you to them now if you are ready.”

  I said my good-byes to Tadra, thinking with brief regret that I had never got the chance to really know her. I took a quick and final look around the small house that had been my home over these tense few days. Then I followed Kinhira out.

  * * *

  When my friends stepped out of their dreary dungeon cell, it felt like I was seeing them for the first time in years rather than mere days. I briefly took in Hadrian’s weary, travel-stained appearance before reassuring myself that the priest was still as solid as ever. But my eyes slid quickly past him, searching for Terrac. When I found him, relief rushed through me.

  Terrac’s haggard face showed signs of his recent illness, but his eyes, alarmingly feverish in my visions, were now clear, and he seemed steady on his feet.

  I threw myself straight into his arms and was so caught up in the joy of our reunion that it took me a moment to realize how thin he felt. His time in the desert had drained him, and he was lucky to have survived.

  “I’m sorry I could not get to you when you needed me,” I told him. “I wanted to help when you were ill, but I couldn’t escape.”

  He pulled back a little from my embrace to look into my face. “How did you know what happened to me?”

  “I saw you in a dream,” I said
. “I’ll explain later. The important thing right now is that you’re alive and you’re here.”

  “Yes, thanks to the most incredible stubbornness I’ve ever seen,” Hadrian put in, clapping a friendly hand down on Terrac’s shoulder. “I tried to persuade him to return to Swiftsfell for proper healing. But neither the voice of reason nor death’s beckoning hand could deter him from reaching you.”

  “We were stranded for a long while,” Terrac added. “We would have arrived sooner, but after the viper’s bite I was very ill and unable to travel for several days. Hadrian stayed by me and eventually nursed me back to health.”

  “Magicked him to health is more like it,” Hadrian said. “And he’s still a long way from recovered yet. He belongs in a sickbed.”

  Terrac ignored that. “As soon as the worst was over and I was back on my feet, we came straight here. After what happened to Myria, I knew you would seek revenge against the Drejians.”

  “You needn’t worry about that. I’ve settled affairs with the Drejians. Justice has been achieved for Myria, the Drejians will not attack Swiftsfell again, and we are free to walk out of here.”

  I was tempted to add that I had managed to accomplish all this perfectly well on my own. But seeing Terrac’s frail condition, I couldn’t bring myself to lecture him for doing exactly what I would have done had our places been reversed. Some other time I would remind him that it had never been my habit to sit helpless, awaiting rescue. But not now. For today, he had risked his life and very nearly lost it in an attempt to save me.