“. . . have to . . . leave me,” Ky’lem mumbled.
He lay close to death, yet his final thoughts were of her. Nola nodded slowly to herself. She could not abandon him to die. She closed her hand into a tight fist around her tan’tari. She would need more than weeds and shrubs for the power required to save her pachna. She needed blood and a powerful spirit, and she knew where she must get it. She searched Ky’lem’s uninjured side, but the sheath to his knife sat empty. It didn’t matter. Ni’ola climbed to her feet and turned to face the mergol. A knife was not the only way to take the beast’s soul.
Chapter 29
Loral and Tannon were led to the Wolves.
Before them, a giant wolf’s head, cast in high relief, stretched across a set of bronze double doors that stood twice the height of a man and wide enough that both she and Tannon could lie down end to end between the jambs of the frame. Two large, tapered emeralds served as the wolf’s eyes. They flickered with the light of the half dozen sconces that lined the walls of the hallway, giving the eyes the semblance of life. Its lips were pulled back in a hungry snarl, with enough of a gap between the fangs to make it appear Loral could look down the throat of the beast if the light were right. On the other side of the door was the true danger if what Riam had told her back at the outpost was correct. The doorway marked the entrance to the Wolf Regiment’s training grounds.
The Draegoran escorting them pushed lightly on one side of the doorway and it swung open, splitting the wolf’s face down the middle. “This way,” he said.
The wolf grinned at Loral when she slipped past, and she shivered with a sudden chill.
She and Tannon were shuffled down hallways until they came to a small courtyard with archways surrounding it, all carved from the rock of the island.
“Kyden Verros is in the garden. Through there.” The Draegoran pointed, obviously expecting them to go alone.
The arch he pointed to led to another courtyard unlike anything Loral had seen on the island. Except for a narrow gravel path that wound through the center, a neatly manicured lawn—as smooth as any rug she’d ever seen—replaced the rock floors she’d become accustomed to. Small, delicate trees and perfectly square shrubs lined the path. Moonlight streamed in through a domed glass ceiling, and the sounds of birds and running water echoed off the walls. In the center of the room, the path circled a large fountain before splitting off in new directions.
“What do you suppose they want with us?” Loral said.
“Probably something to do with your missing boyfriend,” Tannon said. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Remember what I said, ‘He ran away.’ Not a word otherwise, or I promise you the rest of the rabble you’ve sided with will never make it through training—starting with the big, stupid twin. I’ll find a way to make sure they all fail.” He left her standing at the entrance to the courtyard, heading to the fountain.
After a moment of hesitation, Loral followed. “You’re not going to get away with what you did to Riam,” she said after catching up to him. It sounded childish and empty, but it was the only response she could think of.
“I already have,” he said. He leaned over the fountain and peered into the water. “You didn’t say anything when I told them he’d jumped from the barge to escape. If you change your story now, you’ll be as guilty as I am.”
“I didn’t say anything because you told me you would hurt Vashi and the others.”
“I wasn’t joking. I will.”
“How? If I tell them everything, they’ll read your mind and know the truth.”
Tannon splashed at the water, and a school of orange-and-white fish converged on the disturbance.
“So what if they do? Do you think it’ll change anything? It won’t. I’m a landowner’s son, and it’s not like I hurt him—much.” Tannon giggled. “Oh, they may have some small punishment for me, but in the end it won’t matter. They need us. There are too few with the blood to worry about a petty quarrel between children. And besides, they’ll find him and bring him here anyway. So in the end, it won’t even matter.” He smiled with mock sincerity. “Except that I will make life painful for everyone you care about if you betray me.”
“They won’t let that happen.”
“Oh, they will. In fact, they’ll encourage it. They’re going to put swords in our hands and force us to spar with each other eventually. My father spent years training me. It wouldn’t take much for an unchecked swing to slice an arm here or leg there—it might even be fatal. I’m sure Dunval would love to help.”
“If that’s true, you’re going to try and hurt them anyway.”
“Not true. As long as you don’t betray me, I won’t go out of my way to hurt them. There’s a difference.”
“You’re such a bastard,” Loral said, pushing him away. She hated Tannon. Why did he have to carry the blood, too? It isn’t fair. Being selected by the Draegorans had been her escape from people like him. His presence ruined it.
He laughed at her. “Poor Loral,” he chided. “Do you know what the best part is?” He gave her time to think about it before continuing. “If your boyfriend didn’t drown, he probably hates you more than he does me. You’re the one who betrayed him.”
She let out a gurgling scream and lunged at him. He stepped smoothly to the side and tripped her. The gravel bit into her palms and knees.
Why did I tell him anything? Tears welled up in her eyes. Because I’m stupid, that’s why. She’d thought being selected would make things different—that they would all be equals—but she’d been wrong. People like Tannon would always believe they were better than everyone else.
Tannon saw the tears in her eyes and laughed harder. He sat down on the stone rim of the fountain with his legs sprawled out in front of him.
I’m going to pay him back for this someday. I don’t care how long it takes.
The crunch of footsteps sounded behind her. “Well, what is happening here? Hmm. A quarrel among new recruits?”
The newcomer’s hair hung shoulder length, with streaks of gray, and his thick eyebrows sat over narrow eyes that sunk back in his head. He walked with his hands behind his back, and his long black robes skimmed the surface of the path. He was older than most of the Draegorans Loral had seen so far, except for maybe Master Iwynd at the outpost. To his left and right a pair of muscular young men flanked him.
He stopped in front of Loral. “You would be Loral,” he said. He looked from her to Tannon. “And you Tannon.” A smirk formed below his thin mustache, as if he found something amusing. “Both from minor landowning families in Galtare . . . interesting.” He pinched softly at his bottom lip, contemplating his next words.
“I am Kyden Verros,” he said. “Welcome to the Regiment of the Wolves.” The tone was friendly, but there was nothing welcoming about the deadness of his eyes.
Tannon gave her a look that said she’d better keep her mouth shut.
She squinted back at him. Go shit yourself.
Kyden Verros scanned the garden slowly, taking in the trees and the birds in the moonlight. “This is my favorite place within the grounds. There was another garden here when I became kyden, but it wasn’t mine, so I had it torn out and designed this one, all but the fountain. It is the only place on the island I find truly peaceful—where I can relax. It provides balance to the harshness of life. I especially love the fountain. My predecessor brought the stone all the way from the mountains in Thae.”
Tannon stood up quickly and checked to make sure he hadn’t disturbed anything that might offend the kyden.
“It occurs to me that you may be the first recruits to ever set foot within the garden’s walls. That is quite an honor.” He looked at Loral and lifted his chin, motioning her to get up.
She climbed to her feet and moved to a spot an arm’s length from Tannon.
“So, what do you think of my work?”
“It’s beautiful,
” Loral said in a guarded tone.
“It is. I’m not a patient man, and it was my thought that the tranquility of this place might help me keep my temper.
“You see, I am not a kind man either, and when I lose my temper, I am prone to making rash decisions. The kinds of decisions that cannot be undone.” He brought his arm around from behind his back. In his hand he held Riam’s case from the barge, the one containing Gairen’s sword—the same one Tannon had thrown into the river. “I would very much like to know about the boy who carried this and where he is.” He pinched at his lip again. “Yes, I would like that very much.”
Loral turned her gaze to the water, afraid to meet the kyden’s eyes.
“I can assure you he’s not in the fountain,” he said harshly. Gone was the wistful amusement his voice had carried a moment ago.
Loral swallowed. She didn’t know what to say. She could tell the truth and risk Tannon’s threats against the others or hold her tongue and risk Kyden Verros’s anger. Neither was appealing.
“His name was Riam, and he ran away!” Tannon blurted out.
Loral’s head whipped around. “Liar!”
“You see,” Kyden Verros said, addressing Loral. “I was right to choose this room. It seems I will need patience. A short lesson, then, for both of you before I ask again.”
The Draegorans flanking Kyden Verros stepped toward Tannon.
“What are you doing?” Tannon tried to dodge their hands, but they grabbed him by the arms and held him between them. “Don’t touch me.”
“Please be quiet,” Kyden Verros said.
“When my father—”
One of the Draegorans clamped his hand roughly over Tannon’s mouth.
Kyden Verros approached Loral and put his arm around her, turning her to face the fountain. “Do you like the fish?”
When you were raised in a port city, fish were food or a commodity, not pets. “They are very colorful,” she answered.
“An accurate description, but not an answer. Your fellow Neshian would do well to learn the subtle diplomacy of your response.” He pointed to the water. “The fish are called flayers. If your friend had disturbed the water a second time, it would’ve been very unpleasant for him. They are quite aggressive in the areas where they spawn. Although they are thick around the island this time of year, they are surprisingly rare in other parts of the world.”
Loral looked at the fish more closely. They swam lazily through the water. Only about a hand long, they looked harmless.
The kyden read her expression. “Looks can be deceiving. For instance, see the two that are a shade darker than the others, almost red instead of orange?”
Loral wasn’t sure she could, but she thought one near the edge might be a little darker. It was hard to tell in the shadows along the fountain’s edge.
“Those two aren’t flayers. They’re sun drops. They imitate the flayers but are quite harmless. They lay their eggs in the same area and live and swim among them, using them for protection. Yet the whole time, they eat the eggs the flayers lay. Most of the flayers never know the difference, though occasionally one is discovered and devoured by the school.”
He turned to Tannon. “You are right-handed, yes?”
There was a muffled response, and Tannon nodded.
“Start with the left hand, then—for a count of five.”
The Draegoran uncovered Tannon’s mouth and twisted the boy’s right arm behind his back, forcing him to bend down close to the water. “Wait! I’ll tell you everything!” Tannon said. “It was me. I threw him off the boat.” The other Draegoran grabbed Tannon’s other hand by the wrist and pushed it toward the water. “Please! For Fallen’s sake, I’ll tell you everything!”
Loral hated Tannon, but not enough to see him harmed. “Just read his thoughts!” she pleaded.
“Sadly, I cannot do that here on the island. The vault is too close. I suppose I could have you both taken back to the mainland and the truth read there, but as I said earlier, I’m not a patient man.”
Kyden Verros nodded and the Draegoran holding Tannon’s wrist pushed the boy’s hand beneath the water’s surface. For the first moments, nothing happened.
“One.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Loral said. “We’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“Oh, I know you will,” Kyden Verros said and patted her on the shoulder. “But you would miss the most important part of the lesson if we stopped.”
“Two.”
The first of the flayers struck. Tannon screamed. A puff of red spread outward in the water. This sent the other fish darting about in a frenzy. Another struck, then another. Tannon struggled and jerked, but the two Draegorans held him tight, keeping him from pulling free. Tears streamed down Tannon’s face while he continued to scream. The water churned and turned red.
It took a very long time to count to five.
* * *
—
Kyden Verros leaned against the fountain once the children were escorted from the garden. He faced the water, palms on the wide rim, and stared down into the pool’s depths. The water cleared as the channel that ran beneath the island dispersed the boy’s blood. The flayers drifted leisurely in the current as if nothing had ever disturbed their spawning area. A few of the fish darted this way and that, trying to entice a female to lay her eggs in one of the crevices of the rock. It amazed him. The fish swam hundreds of steads out into the deep of the ocean every winter and returned to spawn in the spring, never losing the memory of how to return from so far away, yet violence was forgotten in an instant. They were the complete opposite of people. People held tightly to their memories of violence, but easily lost their way. There were many truths a person—or a recruit—could learn from the fish.
The right side of Verros’s mouth lifted into a lopsided grin. The boy’s expression, right at the moment he realized they were, in fact, going to put his hand in the water was priceless. He was not a man who enjoyed torture, but this Tannon boy was an ass. The lesson would shorten the time it took to eliminate his self-centered nature. He had spirit, though, and that could be forged into a sharp weapon. The girl’s expression was something else, full of fear and concern for a boy she appeared to hate. They would need to break her of that. He would keep a close eye on them both. He would never let either go to another regiment, not with what they knew. He would arrange for “training accidents” before he let that happen.
He ran his fingers through the blood on the fountain’s rim, leaving crimson lines on the stone. He thought about ordering his men to bring the boy back to clean it before his hand was healed at the infirmary and then changed his mind. While it would certainly pound the lesson home, the blood made the garden more intimidating—that might be useful. Perhaps he would bring others here for mentoring.
While he’d lied to the girl about being short on patience—he was quite certain he was the most patient man on the island—he’d been honest about one thing. He did love this garden. When he’d become kyden of the regiment, he’d thought it served no purpose but to placate some small nostalgia for the forests of his predecessor’s childhood, but after making it his own design, with the same meticulous attention to detail he gave to training and commanding the Wolf Regiment, he’d realized the garden mirrored his true desires. Like the recruits who joined his regiment’s ranks each year, the garden took time to develop, with each plant requiring individual care. If you wanted a garden, it took time and dedication to grow it from seed to bloom, and it took patience—it also took removing a few weeds.
In the same way, he’d planted the seeds for a larger regiment years ago, sending his Wolves to every land of the Covenant to bed women in every village from Yaden to Mirlond—whether they liked it or not. Despite an alarming number of deaths in recruits inexplicably failing to retrieve a crystal these past years, there would soon be a crop the size of
which had never been seen on the island . . . and they would all be his once the Owls and the Stonebreakers were out of the way. Neither the Hounds nor the Bloodhammers would stand against him, and the Ironstrikers would always remain neutral.
He slid his fingers farther along the fountain, admiring its simple beauty. He barely felt the tight seams between the blocks. The mason who’d built the fountain was a master of his craft. Verros appreciated a man who excelled in his position and took pride in his work. He also appreciated the kyden before him who’d ordered the fountain’s construction.
It’d taken no small feat of engineering to break through the rock floor and tap into the waterway, but this was how it was with all things worth obtaining. It took willpower and commitment to shape the world. He never questioned a decision once made—only the timing of things. Act too late, and the best-laid plans were destined to fail—spring a trap too soon, and the hunter exposed himself to the hunted before the killing blow.
The Owls would have fought tooth and nail to remove him from his position as kyden of the Wolf Regiment for his plan to expand the regiments, especially if they knew he intended to claim them all. He’d cut the head of the snake off long ago, attacking Kyden Barsol’s ship without a trace of evidence pointing back to him or his regiment, but the body still thrashed.
His replacement, Kyden Thalle, was reclusive and shortsighted, failing to see what was necessary, but he wasn’t weak or a fool. The old Owl thwarted him on the council whenever he could, but the idiot had ceased training replacements, making it easy for Verros to chip away at the Owl’s ranks. One by one, his men had removed the Owls—a scout sent on a mission into an ambush, a warden disappearing in the night, an unlucky fall or accident. It was almost too easy.
Kyden Verros looked at the case sitting next to him on the lip of the fountain. And now they’ve handed me the key to the final lock. An armsman who could strip a crystal from a Draegoran at will would make a powerful weapon. Once he had that, the other kydens would have no choice but to obey him, or he would tear away their crystals and feed their souls to his blade. With his army of new recruits, he would crush the Church of Man in Mirlond, drive the Esharii into the sea, and add Arillia to the Covenant. I will succeed where my predecessors failed.
Lies of Descent Page 33