“We have God’s Eye,” Karina said, a hint of hope in her voice. “We can keep the Rodenese fleet at bay with God’s Eye, and our legionaries outnumber the tiellans.”
Carrieri grimaced. God’s Eye could be powerful, but it only worked during the day, and even then it took great effort and coordination to use the weapon. “Do not put all your hope in that. We have not used God’s Eye in anger for decades,” he said. “We should not rely on it now.”
With a sigh, he met Karina’s eyes. “But we are preparing war engines, strategically placed around the city and the harbor. If luck is on our side, and God’s Eye is functional, we can perhaps keep the Rodenese at bay long enough to deal with the tiellans.” It was one of the few scenarios that had a slim chance of working in their favor.
“Can you defeat the tiellan woman?”
Carrieri hesitated. Winter was a gifted field general, even though she was inexperienced, but he was not sure she could besiege Triah with only two thousand troops. Not against his ten thousand.
But Winter herself was one of the most powerful psimancers on the Sfaera, worth a thousand soldiers. Perhaps more. There was no telling what she might do to turn the tide of any battle.
“I’ll need the full cooperation of the Nazaniin,” Carrieri said. “Without them, I do not think it matters how many troops we have. She will crush them on her own.”
“Is she that powerful?” Karina asked.
Carrieri sat down in the chair next to Karina and massaged his forehead.
“I can still hear the screams,” he said, eyes closed. “The screams of my own men by the rihnemin, as daemons ripped through the fabric of existence, and then tore my men to pieces.” Kyfer’s screams, as he became a towering, wrathful terror, still echoed in his mind.
“I left that battlefield knowing no force on the Sfaera could stand up to such daemonic strength. I left knowing that, in doing so, I would eradicate one enemy, but have to deal with those daemons. But I also left because I could not see how to defeat such an army. I ran, Karina. I ran because I had no hope of defeating my foe.”
Carrieri met Karina’s eyes. “Winter Cordier somehow defeated hundreds of daemons, including one of the Nine. If she could do that—” Carrieri stopped as a thought came to him.
“The rihnemin,” he said.
Karina raised an eyebrow. “Yes,” she said slowly, “what about it?”
“We must destroy, or at least remove, every last rihnemin in or around Triah.”
Karina’s face scrunched together as she spread her palms wide. “Remove the rihnemin? Why in Oblivion—”
“Winter used the rihnemin at the battle to defeat Mefiston and the other daemons,” Carrieri said quickly. “Somehow, whether through psimancy or some other means, she accessed whatever power was dormant in the stone, and defeated the monster in a rain of blue fire. Some of our soldiers witnessed it—those unable to retreat with the main body. Most didn’t escape the tiellans and the daemons, but one did; I heard his report with my own ears. We cannot let her do the same to Triah.”
“No,” Karina whispered, “we cannot.” Then the color returned to her cheeks. “We will do what we can about the rihnemin.”
Carrieri shook his head. “Doing what you can is not enough. Take some of my forces if you need the manpower. We must remove them from the surrounding countryside. Uproot them, crush them, whatever it takes. And then… bloody bones, we throw them into the harbor for all I care. We must keep them out of her reach.”
The two sat in silence for some time, contemplating the fate of their city. Karina finally broke it.
“Roden to the north, tiellans to the west. The Denomination out for Odenite blood. We still cannot broach the subject in the Parliament, as most of the senators do not believe the reports, but… Daemons lurk outside our doors, Riccan. I fear none of these conflicts will matter in short time.”
Carrieri nodded, a hollow feeling growing in his chest. It had festered within him since he had fled the Battle of the Rihnemin. “I’m afraid you’re right. But Khale cannot diffuse centuries of conflict with Roden any more than it can atone for centuries of tiellan slavery. We’ve dug ourselves into this hole.”
He’d decided one thing, though. One thing in all of this. If it came down to the tiellan woman’s life—no matter what was at stake—he needed to let her live. She destroyed Mefiston, when Carrieri did not think anything on this Sfaera could.
She might be their only hope against the coming darkness.
17
Odenite Camp, outside Triah
CINZIA HESITATED BEFORE KNOCKING gently on Knot’s tent post. There was no response.
With a frown, Cinzia peeked through a small gap in the tent flaps. Two empty cots, with random belongings and an abundant supply of weapons strewn about inside, but nothing else.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Cinzia jumped, whirling around to find Knot at her side.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he muttered, and swept past her.
“Knot?” Cinzia followed him into his tent, where he was already stuffing belongings into a pack. “What’s wrong?”
“Astrid’s gone. Haven’t seen her for days.”
Cinzia had heard the girl had been scarce. “She goes off on her own sometimes, does she not?”
“She did when she had the Black Matron to report to,” Knot said. “But that’s over. She wouldn’t just leave. Not without telling me.”
“What could have happened to her?” Fear awoke within Cinzia’s breast, and shame with it. She had not noticed Astrid’s absence. And her next thought was for the plan she had formed after meeting with the Beldam. Without Astrid, it would be almost impossible.
“Don’t know,” Knot said. “But I think she’s in trouble. A feeling, that’s all I got. No evidence. Just a feeling.”
Cinzia had learned to trust Knot’s instincts. She stood awkwardly watching as Knot sat on his cot rapidly stuffing things into his bag. She could not bear to see him so out of sorts. “Astrid is tough… I do not know of anyone tougher.” Cinzia did not understand a fraction of what Astrid had been through, and yet of what she did know, she could not believe the girl had survived.
Knot stood up. Because of the constricted space in the tent—there was only room for both of them to stand at the very center, between the beds—they stood very close to one another. His breath was on her face, his body close to hers.
“Don’t know why I didn’t think to go after her sooner. Should’ve sensed something was wrong that first night she didn’t come back.”
“I care about her, too,” Cinzia said. “But I know she is special to you.” “Special” was putting it lightly; while she suspected neither Knot nor Astrid would ever admit it, he was like a father to the girl. “We will find her, Knot.”
A knock sounded on the tentpole, shaking the fabric. Knot stood and pulled aside the tent flap, Cinzia peering over his shoulder.
Cinzia gasped. She recognized the vampire immediately— his scarred face, a ragged gray eyepatch concealing one eye— from that first day the Odenites had arrived at Triah. She remembered thinking how odd it was that he wore such a heavy cloak in the warm sunlight.
Now that it was dark, she would have expected his one good eye to be glowing. Instead, it stared back at her dully, devoid of any light whatsoever.
“I need to speak with you both,” the visitor said. His voice came out in a low rasp.
“Who are you?” Knot asked.
“A friend of Astrid’s.”
Cinzia murmured in Knot’s ear. “I have seen him before, Knot, speaking with Astrid when we arrived in Triah.”
Knot stiffened as she spoke. “You a vampire?” Knot asked the visitor.
The man hesitated, then nodded.
“But your eyes,” Cinzia said. “How…?”
“Glamour.” The word sounded strange in his gruff voice.
“A power inherent in most vampires,” Knot explained. “They can change their appearance, to a l
imited extent.”
Cinzia’s father had once shown her a lizard that changed the color of its skin, camouflaging itself and lying in wait for its prey. Until now, the telltale signs of a vampire—long claws and glowing eyes at night—had been a comfort to her. “Glamour” seemed more than unfair. She stared at the vampire’s good eye, straining to find some sort of glow, some sort of hint of what was behind the glamour.
“Come in,” Knot said. “Tell us what you know.”
Cinzia did not like the idea of inviting a vampire into the tent with them. As skilled a fighter as Knot was, even he stood little chance against a vampire at full strength.
He might not, Luceraf’s voice echoed, but you would.
It was the first time Cinzia had heard the Daemon’s voice in a while.
I was beginning to think you had actually left me alone, she responded.
I’ll never leave you, Cinzia.
Cinzia shivered involuntarily.
The vampire entered the cramped space. Cinzia sat on the edge of Astrid’s cot, as far from him as she could get. Knot motioned for the visitor to sit on the other cot, while he himself remained standing by the entrance. Cinzia wished he would sit down, too. She would feel more comfortable with him at her side.
The single eye in the vampire’s scarred, pockmarked face stared back at her.
“My name is Trave,” the vampire said. “Astrid and I have known each other for some time.”
“Trave,” Knot said. “Astrid told me about you.”
The vampire looked up at Knot, something very like fear burning in his single eye. “I helped her escape from Olin Cabral in Turandel. She invited me to come with her, after that.”
“Come with her?” Knot asked.
“Tag along after your group,” Trave said. “She didn’t want to introduce me to you until she knew I was trustworthy.”
“And now she is gone,” Cinzia said, “and you are here. It would seem she was right to have reservations about you.”
“You worked for the vampire who enslaved her,” Knot said. His eyes were cold, emotionless voids fixated on Trave. “He tortured her.”
“Aye,” Trave’s head bowed. “And I did my fair share of torturing, too. If she didn’t tell you about that, I will. I don’t like what I did, but that doesn’t change the fact I did it.”
“And now… what? You are here to make amends?” Cinzia didn’t keep the skepticism from her voice.
“I can never do that,” Trave said quietly. “But I want to help her now. You’ve realized she’s missing?” In response to Knot’s nod, he added, “I think I know who took her.”
“Her former master,” Knot said.
“Cabral,” Trave agreed, the name scraping from between his lips.
“Thought the two of you took care of him after we moved south.”
Cinzia looked at Knot sharply. She had heard no such thing. But, then again, why would Astrid tell her anything about it? She wished the girl had told her anyway.
“We freed the humans he had enslaved,” Trave rasped, “and killed the Fangs he’d left behind. But he was not there. I’m afraid we only stoked the fire with that attack.”
Knot swore.
“Cabral is one of the oldest, most powerful vampires in existence,” Trave said. “His power may only be eclipsed by the vampires of the Coven.”
“What is the Coven?”
Trave shrugged. “How does one explain the movement of the stars? The Coven are vampires that have always been, and always will be. They have existed since the dawn of time, and will always exist.”
“Surely they are like any vampires,” Cinzia said. “They can be killed?”
Trave laughed—or, at least, Cinzia assumed the awful scraping sound that came from his throat was a laugh. She could not imagine what else it might be.
“No,” Trave said, “They are not like other vampires.”
I think they can die, though.
Cinzia’s brow wrinkled. What do you mean? What knowledge could Luceraf possibly have about Coven vampires?
Because I’m quite sure I killed one, once.
Knot’s empty eyes locked on Trave.
“I don’t know where Cabral would have taken Astrid,” Trave said, “but I know his lairs. If he is in Triah, I know who he would contact, and where he would stay.” His hand strayed to the patch that covered one eye, touching it gently. “I owe her a debt, one I can never repay. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.”
“Then let’s get started,” Knot said.
18
Somewhere beneath Triah
THE LOCK CLICKED, AND Astrid bolted upright, ready to make another attempt at fighting her way out. But just before the door began to creak open, a voice echoed in her mind, calm and sonorous.
It is just me, child. Do not try to escape. You would stand a better chance against Igar and every other vampire beneath Triah combined than you would against me.
Astrid relaxed, although she had the fleeting thought that Eldritch might have something to do with causing her to relax, and didn’t particularly relish the idea.
The door to her cell opened, and Eldritch entered. Instinctively, Astrid took a step back. The tiellan vampire was levitating, but this time instead of floating in a seated position, she was upright, one leg slightly bent beneath her. She did not wear the dress she had worn in the throne room. Instead, she wore simple, loose-fitting trousers and a pristine white blouse. Her feet were bare, her short silvery hair spiky around her pointed ears.
The door to Astrid’s cell closed, and they were alone.
“What are you doing here?” Astrid asked. She still felt unnaturally calm, but she had not survived for a couple hundred years without learning to recognize danger in just about any circumstance. Tranquility and danger could coexist, and they certainly did here.
You have piqued my interest, and I wanted to have a discussion with you, if you’ll allow it.
“Is it really my choice?” Astrid asked.
Of course it is. Eldritch’s tone was surprised. I will not force anything on you, child. I am nowhere near the stickler that Equity is about thresholds and what have you. You were not allowed a voice during the hearing, and I was willing to respect that rule. But there is no reason to ignore such an interesting specimen just because she is not yet old enough.
Specimen. Well, at least Astrid knew where she stood with Eldritch.
“Can you tell me more about all this?” Astrid asked.
What would you like to know?
“Where am I?”
Beneath Triah. A series of ancient tunnels and chambers exist beneath the city, and our order has taken them over. For the most part. We had to give up some of our jurisdiction years ago when the Nazaniin dug out their ridiculous underground lair, but that was a price we were willing to pay for privacy.
Astrid thought about that for a moment. She had run for radials through these tunnels, and Igar had carried her for almost that distance, too. She wondered whether the tunnel network webbed beneath the entire city, or just certain parts.
“Who are you?”
Eldritch’s blue eyes glowed even brighter, though she remained otherwise unsettlingly motionless, only the slightest shift in air rippling her clothing or through her hair. I am the eldest member of the Coven, she said. I have existed since the dawn of time, and will exist until its end.
A lofty claim, but Astrid wondered whether it was remotely true. “You’ve existed since the dawn of time, and you still look like that?” Astrid asked.
Eldritch’s smile broadened, but she did not answer the question. You are astute, child. I like that. When you do cross the threshold, I might even think of taking you on as my personal ward. Clearly it would be something of a battle with Cabral, but I believe he would see things my way in the end. I only hope he doesn’t ruin you before then.
“Were you always a vampire? If you are the eldest, you must have been the first. Were you ever a tiellan? How did you become a vampire?�
�
Eldritch’s smile faded, and her eyes dimmed a little. That is a very sad story, for another time, perhaps.
“Can you at least tell me how you are doing what you are doing?” Astrid asked. “Speaking in my mind, and… levitating?”
Eldritch’s eyes brightened again; the sadness left her face. I suppose there is no harm in telling you now. Your threshold is not that far, after all.
“I thought you did not care for this concept of a threshold,” Astrid said.
I never said that, child. But I do find it overly strict at times. And, being who I am, I can bend the rules when I see a good reason for it.
What is your good reason here? Astrid wanted to ask, but she kept the question to herself. This woman said she was intrigued by Astrid, but Astrid had decided she could take nothing this woman said at face value.
Each member of the Coven has developed abilities, over time, Eldritch said. While Equity rarely has reason to demonstrate his, he has generated control over certain elements. And, of course, you have already seen what Elegance can do.
“She can make people see things,” Astrid said. “Alter their minds… and their sifts? Is what Cabral asked you to do to me possible?”
There is very little that is not possible between the three of us. Eldritch spoke without hubris. Had we agreed with Cabral’s punishment, we could have done as he asked.
Astrid suppressed an involuntary shiver. They would have altered her mind. They would have invaded and changed everything that made her her. The anger she had felt in the throne room returned, a slow-burning smolder.
The Black Matron had messed with her mind enough. She would die before she let anyone do that to her again.
“You and Elegance have the same powers, then?” Astrid asked.
No, child. Our abilities could not be more different, though they might seem similar to the uneducated. Elegance has mastered the art of illusion. She can make anyone see what she wants them to see, and for that person, the illusion Elegance gives them is reality. They would never know the difference, unless Elegance chose to show it to them.
Chaos Queen--Fear the Stars (Chaos Queen 4) Page 14