by Giles Carwyn
“There are many different kinds of voices,” the Emperor continued. “Some lead us to the light. Some are lost souls who need our help as much as we need theirs. Are you sure you know where this beautiful voice will lead you?”
Brophy’s brow furrowed. He couldn’t read anything in the man’s powdered expression. With a slight nod, the Emperor withdrew into his stateroom and closed the window, leaving Brophy alone, staring at the walls of Ohndarien slipping below the horizon.
CHAPTER 5
That’s my luck these days,” Lawdon grumbled, fighting her way through the twilight underbrush. A grove of cypress, Caleb had said.
Well, it had looked like a grove from a distance, but the damned thing was a forest once you got inside it.
She and Mikal had beached the little waterbug on the west side of the island over an hour ago, and Lawdon had told Mikal to secure the boat while she searched the interior.
Lawdon didn’t think it would take long to find Shara. But that was a laugh. Now it was getting dark, and she wished she’d tied Mikal to the boat. He was obedient enough when they were under sail. She’d have him flogged if he wasn’t. But once they set foot on land, she wasn’t his captain, and he was quick to remind her of it. She had little confidence that he’d stayed with the boat. And if he found Shara before she did…
During the boat ride here, Mikal had been practically salivating at the prospect of meeting the distraught and vulnerable mistress of the Zelani.
The more lost and entangled Lawdon got into this godforsaken jungle, tramping through endless brambles full of clinging thistles, the more likely it was that Mikal had abandoned their boat and begun his own search.
With a growl of frustration, Lawdon yanked her dagger out of its sheath. Her pants were covered with clinging burrs that scratched her every time she took a step. She leaned against a tree and tried scraping off a few of the tenacious things.
This was ridiculous. She was playing the pincushion, and Mikal was likely off—
The knife slipped, slicing her through her pants. “Ow! Dammit!” she yelled, then turned and stabbed the tree in frustration, yanked out the dagger and stabbed again. And again. “Damned, stupid hunks of—“
“Are you lost?”
Lawdon nearly swallowed her tongue as she spun around. A rock turned her ankle, and she went down, her arm jerking as she refused to let go of her dagger. It stuck for a second, holding her up, then tore free. She stumbled back and sat down heavily.
A figure emerged from the shadows between the cypress trees. Tall, svelte, black-haired, and stark naked.
“Shara!” Lawdon gasped, jumping to her feet. “Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you.”
“And I have been looking for you,” Shara said, her voice smooth and rich. She gave a sweet smile. “I already met your friend.”
Lawdon opened her mouth and shut it. Fessa damn that man!
“We followed you after…After you jumped.”
“Really?” She arched an eyebrow, a little sardonic curl to the corner of her mouth. A chill scampered up Lawdon’s spine.
“Well, uh, a fellow from your school—”
“Caleb told you where I’d be.” She nodded. “Good. I’m glad he did.”
Lawdon paused. This wasn’t what she had expected, and she felt like she was having to row backward all of a sudden. This was not the ragged, crazed woman who had leapt from the top of Ohndarien’s walls. She was poised, calm, and exuding an unmistakable strength. And she was…
By the Seasons! It was as if Lawdon had stepped back in time. This was not the mature Zelani mistress Lawdon had chased through the rain. This was the Shara that Lawdon first ferried across Ohndarien’s bay more than eighteen years go.
Lawdon struggled to find something to say, but Shara suddenly stepped closer and wrapped Lawdon up in a soft hug. Her arms stuck out straight as Shara’s naked body pressed against her. Shara’s black hair enveloped Lawdon’s face. “My dear friend,” Shara murmured into her ear. “I’m so glad to see you. Thank you for coming here to find me.” The woman smelled of the sea. And sex.
Fessa damn that man!
Lawdon pushed her back. “Shara, look—”
“Please forgive me,” the Zelani mistress said softly, her fingers keeping a warm grasp on Lawdon’s arms. “I’m so sorry for the way I treated you the other night.”
Shara looked deep into Lawdon’s eyes, and together they let out a deep breath. All the tension drained from Lawdon’s back and shoulders. The knot in the pit of her stomach loosened. “I was so worried for you,” she murmured.
“I was in quite a state,” Shara admitted. “I had some very difficult decisions to make.” She leaned forward and kissed Lawdon, leaving a tingling bit of euphoria on her cheek. “But as it turns out, they were not so difficult to make after all.”
Lawdon nodded.
“I’ve decided to come with you to the Summer Cities. I have always wanted to see the Floating Palace.”
A wave of relief flooded through Lawdon’s body. That was what she needed to hear. It was going to be all right. Everything in the Summer Cities was going to be set right. Shara was with them now. “By Fessa, it’s good to see you again, Shara. I didn’t realize how much I missed you.”
“It is good to be seen,” Shara said, then spoke in a softer voice. “I look forward to being seen much more.” She stepped away, her graceful feet barely making a sound on the forest floor.
“Mikal is right behind me.” Shara pointed back to the trees. “I long for a swim. I will meet you at your boat.” She turned and began jogging down the slope. “See you soon.” The jog turned into a run, and she disappeared into the trees.
In a daze, Lawdon watched her leave. The joy of seeing Shara again slowly faded, and Lawdon remembered the order she had given Mikal. As though blinking away sleep, she found her anger again. She weaved her way through the trees in the direction Shara had pointed.
She found Mikal almost immediately. He was wandering through the cypress, looking at the leaves as though it was the first time he’d ever seen them. Hearing Lawdon, he smiled briefly, then touched one of the branches.
“You pathetic, skirt-chasing fop!” she shouted at him. “I told you to stay with the boat!”
She walked right up to him, and he finally focused on her, the skin around his eyes tightening, but he did not let go of the leaf.
“Hmmmm…” he said. He chuckled then, shaking his head. “You did warn me.”
“Is it really so hard for you to keep your pants on?”
“Hmmmm…” He looked back at the leaf.
“Hey! I’m talking to you.”
“I can hear you.”
The smug bastard. Lawdon slugged him in the jaw—
Lightning quick, he caught her wrist and spun her to the side. Her mouth opened at his strength; he hadn’t even seen the blow coming. His gaze found hers again, piercing but odd. It took Lawdon a moment to understand what his little frown meant. He wasn’t angry with her. He was concerned. For the first time since she’d known him, he looked serious.
“I had no choice,” he said simply.
“Oh, yes you did,” she said, twisting her wrist. He held it for a moment, then let her go. “You could have done what you were told, or at the least said, ‘Shara, come with me. Lawdon wants to see you.’ How hard is that?”
“Hah…” he said softly.
“Mikal—” she hissed, but she was beginning to feel that nothing she said could possibly threaten this man. It was like suddenly seeing Shara as a nineteen-year-old. He was Mikal, but he wasn’t.
“I’m a liar,” he interrupted her. “And a cheat and a thief.”
Lawdon’s mouth was open to speak. She closed it. Her brow wrinkled, then she said, “You sound surprised.”
“I am. I don’t think I truly saw who I was until this moment.”
“And suddenly you care? How about we go back an hour and try this whole thing again with you caring?”
“I had
the best intentions,” he murmured, finally letting go of the leaf he was caressing. He faced Lawdon.
“We came to help Shara,” Lawdon said. “And now you’ve jumped in prick first, and we have a whole new set of problems. Did you see—?”
Quick as a snake, Mikal snatched her wrist again. She jumped, tried to yank her arm back, but he held it like a vise. He had never been faster than her before.
“I. Had. No. Choice,” he said, each word like a tiny hammer hitting her chest.
He stared at her as an eerie silence fell in the glade. The leaves rustled with the sea breeze, fragrant from the storm.
“What happened up there?” Lawdon finally asked.
“What do you think happened up there?”
Lawdon swallowed. “She made you? Like Suvian?”
He gave her his charming half smile, but it was stiff, forced.
“Oh, she was a lot nicer about it. But other than that, I suppose it wasn’t much different.” He released her, and she stepped back. He ran both hands through his black hair, let out a breath. “I meant to bring her back to the boat. I really did. But she seemed in so much pain and I was…” He glanced at her. “I was going to toy with her. Kiss her and bring her back with my arm around her. Make you jealous…”
She frowned, and her lips tightened into a line. “I told you—”
“You told me. You didn’t tell me enough.”
“Mikal—”
He waved a hand. “It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. Not if I was a sexless eunuch. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”
“Are you all right?” Lawdon asked, her voice softening.
“All right? I’m a changed man. An hour ago I was a frivolous wastrel with a heart full of fear. But right now, I believe I could outduel the great Natshea herself.” He lunged and poked two fingers between the branches of the trees. “With my left hand.”
“Do you trust her?” she whispered. “Should we let her come with us?” The rush of euphoria Lawdon felt had seeped away in Shara’s absence. It made Lawdon cold to the bone to think that Shara had used magic on her, just like Suvian.
Mikal chuckled. “Now there is a funny question. She’s your friend. I don’t even know her.”
“And yet you slept with her.”
“Indeed I did,” he laughed softly, looking at his fingers as if they were some foreign object. After a moment, he said, “I will tell you one thing.” He focused on her again. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do if she asked me.”
Lawdon swallowed slowly. She felt like she’d just stepped into a deep, slow pit of mud. Her pulse raced. “That’s the Zelani magic speaking,” she said, trying to sound derisive, but it came out as fear.
Mikal didn’t notice. “It could be the winds, the water, or an ape in court dress speaking. It doesn’t change a thing.”
Lawdon’s heart thumped painfully in her chest. “Come on,” she said, leading the way. “Let’s get back to the boat.”
“Lawdon,” Mikal said.
“Yes?” She turned around.
“The beach is that way.” He pointed.
She clenched her teeth. “Fine. Whatever. You lead.” She fell in stride behind him. “That woman has some explaining to do before I let her set foot on any boat of mine.”
“Ah…” his voice floated back to her, though he did not turn around. “I’m sure she’ll be very convincing.”
CHAPTER 6
Astor frowned as the corrupted snake threw itself against the bars of its cage. The mutilated creature’s severed entrails dangled behind it, staining the cage with a filthy black sludge. The reptile had been chopped in half during the last corrupted battle three days ago, but black emmeria kept it alive. It repeatedly slammed its head against the delicate silver bars of the birdcage they had trapped it in, mindlessly struggling to rejoin its foul creator. Its frantic quest led perpetually toward the northwest, where the Ohohhim had taken the Heartstone. Where they had taken Brophy.
Astor watched the snake dispassionately. Once upon a time, he might have felt sorry for the twisted creature. But he was done feeling sorry. Once upon a time, he had felt sorry for Brophy, too.
He could still see the inky-black shadow that slithered over Brophy’s eyes after he’d slain Mother. He’d told the Sisters exactly what happened, but they still let a corrupted murderer sail right out of Ohndarien, just as they’d let the Emperor steal the Heartstone. It had been three days since the Opal Empire betrayed them, and the council continued to debate. With every hour that passed, the Heartstone moved farther away from Ohndarien, and still the Sisters argued.
The women feared war. They were paralyzed at the thought that the accidental death of the Emperor would bring the entire weight of the Opal Empire down upon them. Astor didn’t care. Without the Heartstone, the Fortress of Light was nothing more than a half-empty city led by a pack of cowardly old women.
It was high time for the men of the Blood to take matters into their own hands. The Heartstone belonged in Ohndarien. On that issue there could be no compromise.
And so the fastest ship in Ohndarien sat ready to sail with thirty of the finest Lightning Swords aboard. Astor had sold his mother’s jewels and pooled the money with the other warriors to purchase the craft. She had a long keel and a shallow draft, built to outrun Silver Islander pirates on the dangerous trading routes between Kherif and Faradan.
Catching the Emperor’s flagship wouldn’t be easy, but they could still do it if they left soon and pushed day and night all the way to the Opal Empire.
The corrupted snake would lead them straight to Brophy better than any compass. They were ready, they only waited on the twins.
Astor kept an eye on the harbor, resenting every moment of delay, until he finally saw a waterbug leave the Night Market and head toward them.
He paced the deck as Gavin and Gareth crossed the harbor. He could tell from their expressions that the news wasn’t good. They finally tied off at the wharf, and Astor met them at the gangplank. “What news from the council?” he asked.
The two brothers from the House of Winter stopped at the foot of the plank. “No news,” Gavin said. “Vallia is committed to our cause. The others continue to debate. They have adjourned for the night and agreed to continue the discussion tomorrow.”
Astor let out a disdainful breath. He secretly believed those women were glad to see the stone go. They were probably happy to cede their sacred charge to the chalk-faced Ohohhim, and would drag their feet until it was too late to stop the theft.
“That’s it, then,” Astor said. “We sail.” He nodded to the Lightning Swords on the dock, and they began untying the lines.
“Astor,” Gareth said, “this is not what the Lightning Swords were created for.”
“We were created to shield the black emmeria from all enemies. All enemies, not just the corrupted.”
Gareth looked at his brother. It was plain that they were torn. Astor knew they felt the same rage he did about the Heartstone’s theft.
“What would Captain Faedellin say?” Gavin asked.
The pain rose within Astor. The monster with Brophy’s face had taken more than one life with his mother’s murder. Astor shoved the feelings down with a wave of anger. “My father hasn’t left the house in four days. He’s welcome to cry over my mother’s death, but I intend to do something about it!”
“I thought this was about the Heartstone,” Gavin said quietly.
Astor clenched his teeth. “It is about the Heartstone.”
“Astor—”
“No!” he shouted. “No more debate! No more second thoughts. Are you with us or not?”
Gavin let out a long breath and looked at his brother. Gareth turned to Astor with sad eyes. “Not,” he said.
“Fine! Then get off my ship.”
The two men who had cast off the lines moved past the twins and clambered up the gangplank. The two brothers continued to watch Astor as the plank was hauled up.
“Don’t try t
o stop us,” Astor warned them. “Or there will be needless bloodshed.”
“Our hearts go with you, Astor,” Gavin said. “But we belong in Ohndarien. The people of this city are what matter. Not the stones.”
Astor gritted his teeth, but refused to be taken in by cowardly sentiments.
“Please be careful,” Gareth added. “You must not kill the Emperor, no matter what. The Ohohhim will tear our walls down with their bare hands if that man dies.”
Astor put his hand on the pommel of the Sword of Autumn and stared at his lifelong friends. The Emperor was not the one he planned to kill.
The boat began to move away from the dock. Astor stood watching as the twins grew smaller and smaller. Finally, he raised his hand, waving good-bye. They returned the gesture.
A young girl’s scream broke the silent moment.
Bendrick, the first of the Lightning Swords to join Astor’s crusade, strode from the stern carrying a screaming, flailing child in his arms. He held Baedellin at arm’s length as she tried to kick him. Her fingernails dug into his coarse hands, but he did not drop her. “I caught her trying to climb aboard, sir. She was clinging to the rudder.”
“Put her down,” Astor said, a lump in his throat. “I’ll deal with this.”
Bendrick set Baedellin on the deck. She ran to Astor, but drew up short at the look in his eyes. His sister swallowed, bedraggled hair hanging in her face, wet clothes dripping onto the deck.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Astor said.
“You can’t go,” she said, a sob catching in her throat. “Not now.”
“I have to,” he said, remembering his mother’s body, remembering the blood on Brophy’s sword. He cleared his throat.
Her narrow shoulders trembled, and she held up a hand, but he didn’t reach out to her. She let it fall to her side. “You have to stay…” she whispered, her lip trembling. “I have this feeling…that if you go…”
“Baedellin—”
“If you go, you’ll never come back.” She bit her lip to keep from crying.
“That doesn’t matter anymore,” he said in a flat tone.