by Megan Derr
Emotions roiled and tangled in Binhadi's mind, but finally he said, I'll try.
Cemal shook his head, but smiled faintly as he returned to Binhadi and the horses.
Sule returned several minutes later and led them through the village to a little fishing cottage on the outskirts at the opposite end. The owner died a few months ago and no one else has needed the place, so we're free to use it as long as we need. I paid well to have food and other sundries brought to us, enough for a week.
"Excellent, thank you. Help me with Mahzan and we'll get settled in for the day, better plan out what we want to do. We should probably take turns on watch tonight. So close to our goal, I worry Seda will become aware of our presence—if he's not already. Thanks to Mahzan, we're well shielded, but we can do nothing about people talking."
"I'll take care of the horses," Cemal said. He tethered them behind the house, where a few scraggly trees provided some shade, then went into the village with a couple of buckets to get water for their trough. He doubted the late owner had owned a horse, but a mule was likely.
He could feel the stares of the villagers, hear a few whispers and hastily smothered louder comments. In the Heart, and most of the rest of the continent, Cemal was unusual but not strange, but so far north, his pale skin was definitely something they'd rarely, if ever, seen. He'd been asked everything from was he sick and dying to had someone cursed him, an old superstition that would get people laughed at in the Heart but was taken quite seriously in the outer, remote villages.
There was more whispering and staring at the well, but no one approached him, for which Cemal was grateful. He was tired and just wanted food and rest, not to be stuck explaining he was perfectly healthy and in no danger of dying. At least, not from anything that had turned his skin white.
Hefting the buckets, he trudged his way back to the cottage. Finish tending the horses, then he'd help Sule put a meal together, and then they could all sleep—
—and the acrid, awful stench of rotted eggs blew in on the sea breeze he loved so much. No. Cemal dropped his buckets as he whipped around. Coming toward the village on enormous, leathery black wings was a fearmonger. Wait. That wasn't—
The villagers screamed and began to run frantically about, some fleeing, others trying to get loved ones first, others not certain what to do.
In his head, the others echoed his disbelief, anger, and fear. As the fearmonger approached, nostrils smoking, fire flickering at its ragged lips, Cemal called up his magic and all the energy he had to spare, then threw his hands up and created a shield over as much of the village as he could, crying out as the fearmonger's fire struck it. He screamed at the force and heat of it, palpable even with the distance and barrier, but held strong as the fearmonger circled around ceaselessly spewing flames.
At last it drew back and flew off over the water, though he could see it circling, likely preparing for a second, nastier attack. Cemal would love to think he'd convinced the fucking thing it had met its match, but the fearmonger had been playing. It wasn't attacking in earnest yet.
He dropped to the ground, wiped sweat from his brow, and tried to still his shaking.
Someone called his name and then the other three were there, and Cemal felt like he could breathe again.
"Mahzan, the villagers," Binhadi said.
"Already working on it."
Most of Cemal's attention was on the fearmonger, waiting for the moment when it came back ready for a real fight. But it was hard not to notice the way people around them were calming, gathering together, and heading more methodically for the safety of the dense woods.
"Here it comes," Sule said, voice trembling the faintest bit.
As it came closer, the stench of sulfur and ashes and scorched leather washed over them, making Cemal's stomach queasy.
Sule threw several objects in rapid succession—daggers forged from flame. They burned through the fearmonger's skin and hot blood spilled down over them, sliding off Cemal's armor but burning where it splashed bare skin. He bit back cries of pain and focused on calling up more energy and magic. He threw it at the fearmonger, giving it the shape of a net. Nearby, Binhadi threw out shadows, encasing the fearmonger in a webbing of shadow and light.
The fearmonger shrieked, faltered—and stopped completely as though seized by a giant fist and squeezed. Cemal turned and stared at a trembling, strained Mahzan. "Can you hold it?"
Mahzan gave a bare nod.
Cemal turned back around, caught Sule's eye. "Ready?" Sule nodded and Cemal drew his sword. Together they charged the fearmonger as it came crashing down into the sea, sending up billows of steam. Sule raised twin swords of fire and thrust deep into one of the fearmonger's eyes. Cemal made certain it would die by ducking around its arm and stabbing his swords into its throat—and was promptly sent flying as it lashed out in its death throes.
He landed with a jarring splash in the ocean, foul brine filling his mouth and stinging his eyes as he flailed briefly. Forcing himself to calm, he got his bearings and swam for the surface, breaking it and gulping air into his burning lungs.
The fearmonger's dying screams drew him, and he turned and watched until it went still, its boiling blood spreading out through the water, dozens of fish bobbing to the surface as the heat and poison of it killed them instantly. Avoiding the mess as best he could, Cemal swam for shore.
Sule waded out into the surf to help as he drew closed, hauling him back to dry land with heaving, stumbling steps. They collapsed in the sand, panting and shaking. "All right?" Sule asked.
"Been worse," Cemal replied. "Nothing bruised but my dignity, which is used to it."
Sule smiled briefly before standing and helping Cemal to his feet. They trudged over to where Mahzan was sprawled on the ground with his head in Binhadi's lap. Binhadi frowned as he caressed Mahzan's face. "No more messing around until this is over. We could have killed him, tiring him out and leaving him weak."
Sule and Cemal nodded. Sule cleared his throat. "Am I losing my mind, or misremembering, or do we have an even bigger problem on our hands than previously thought?"
"You mean because that wasn't the fearmonger that destroyed the Heart?" Cemal asked, mouth flattening.
"Yes, that."
Binhadi sighed, his thoughts a swirl of anger and despair. "So we have either one group controlling two fearmongers, or two groups, each controlling a fearmonger. Neither scenario is appealing, but I think the first is more probable, and we stand a much better chance of stopping them."
"Yes," Cemal replied. "But why bother with two fearmongers? Just the one was enough to destroy damn near everything. The Heart was the heart—of the government, of the people. So many records, histories, important figures… so much is lost, it has probably crippled Orhanis. Having two fearmongers seems… too much. They risk straining themselves and failing."
Sule shrugged. "Maybe this was their first try. It would make sense if they started with a young, small, more malleable fearmonger before going for the old beast that attacked us. And it's dead, let's hope that means the number has been reduced to one and won't go up again."
Binhadi grimaced. He stood and started to lift Mahzan, but didn't argue when Sule waved him off and picked up Mahzan himself, settling him over one shoulder. Binhadi fell into step alongside Cemal as they headed back to the cottage. "I want badly to head for the island immediately and confront Seda, but if we try that we will definitely die. So the plan is the same: eat, rest, head for the island in the morning."
"What if another fearmonger—the fearmonger—shows up?" Cemal asked.
Binhadi's expression was grim, his thoughts a morass of fear, anger, and a despair he was desperately trying to drive out. Let's hope that doesn't happen.
Cemal made certain they were all settled before heading back to the village to retrieve his dropped buckets and draw fresh water. He jumped at every sound the rest of the day and night, restless even in sleep, almost relieved when Sule shook him awake to take his turn standing w
atch.
He settled outside with a cup of hot ale and some leftover bread and cheese, wrapped in a thick cloak, staring up at the stars, the sliver of moon. His breaths misted in the late night ocean air, which thankfully carried no hint of sulfur.
Eventually he got up to relieve himself, and when he returned, it was to find a fresh mug of ale and company—Mahzan, yawning and groggy but looking much restored.
"You should still be resting."
"Woke up, couldn't go back to sleep. Glad I didn't miss anything more than you going for a swim." At Cemal's scowl and unhappy thoughts, he added, "It was the way the fearmonger finally just snapped my hold that did it, and I would have been fine, but I've never felt something so large and powerful die before. I'll be better braced for it next time. Stop looming and sit down."
Cemal obeyed, and was rewarded with a soft, warm kiss. "It's good to see you're already doing better."
"I think we replenish each other, and the combination of our energy is several times greater than simply adding it all together. How and why, I'm not sure, but that's how it feels." Mahzan shrugged. "Nice work with the shield."
"I'm just glad it worked," Cemal said, blowing out a breath. "I've never done something on quite that scale, and despite all of our practicing, I'm still constantly amazed at what my magic can do now. I'm starting to think we could turn into a dragon, which is the most terrifying thought I've ever had."
Mahzan smiled faintly and took a swallow of ale. Sometimes it's the terrifying stuff you should definitely do.
You've obviously never spent years planning to murder someone.
You know what I meant, priest.
Cemal smiled and leaned over to kiss him again. Drawing back, he added more wood to the little campfire and sipped at his own ale, cheap but good, especially on a cold, quiet night like that one. At least he hoped it stayed quiet.
I think it will. Sule is probably right about it being their practice fearmonger, and after mastering the big one, it probably wasn't hard to call back the little one to try and kill us here, or whatever it was meant to do.
"Yes, but where is the big one?" Cemal asked. "Why not just use it?"
Mahzan shrugged. "We probably don't want to know, but we will find out anyway when we see Seda tomorrow."
"I still think we should leave Binhadi here."
"We could," Mahzan said. "There are ways."
There are ways to get revenge as well, Binhadi cut in coolly. Trust me, you don't want to face Seda without me.
Mahzan scowled at the cottage. It sounds like we might be safer without you there to dredge up bad memories.
He knows I'm here. If he thinks I'm hiding, it will go even worse than if I just confronted him. All that aside, I simply don't care. I am going to see Seda, and not even the three of you will stop me. Now go back to bed, Mahzan. You need rest.
Grumbling, Mahzan nevertheless obeyed, vanishing into the dark cottage after giving Cemal a quick, hard kiss. A few minutes later, his thoughts quieted.
Cemal went back to staring at the stars and sipping hot ale. He wasn't terribly surprised when Binhadi emerged a few minutes later, rumpled from sleep but all the more beautiful and mysterious for it. With the dark robes and skin, even in the firelight he was nearly invisible.
Binhadi's soft laughter filled the air and was carried away on the breeze. He took Mahzan's place next to Cemal and stole the remains of his ale. "I'm not remotely mysterious and never have been. I can't help what the rest of you build up in your own heads. Half the time when people think I'm headed off to destroy someone's life, I am merely trying to figure out how my paperwork got misfiled yet again or wondering when I'll be able to take a break for lunch. There's no more mystery to my day than yours."
"My days were always meticulously boring on purpose, though," Cemal replied, poking at the fire and pulling out the jug of ale to refill the cup. "Nobody ever suspects the well-behaved dullard."
More quiet laughter. "True enough." Binhadi stared out at the stars, the distant blot where stars were missing, and stars that wavered in and out because of curling smoke that occasionally obscured them.
"So how do you think tomorrow will go?" Cemal asked.
Binhadi shook his head. "I don't know. It's as likely that we'll be happily received as it is we'll be murdered on the spot. It's also likely we'll simply be ignored. Seda was very good at ignoring people when he no longer considered them worth listening to. It should have clued me in to his true temperament a lot sooner than it did, though most of my problem was that I did not want to see it. Be prepared for anything, because above and beyond all else, Seda excels at nasty surprises."
"How does a man like that draw such unfailing loyalty from the Grand Dukes?"
"Seda can be exceptionally persuasive when he wants to be," Binhadi said softly. "Be careful of that, too." He kissed Cemal softly, tasting of ale and Mahzan. "Go back to bed. I'll take the rest of the night."
Cemal nodded, kissed him once more, then went inside and bedded down, though it took a good bit of tossing and turning before he finally found sleep.
PRINCE SEDA
The day dawned cold and misty, shrouding their destination as if that might somehow delay events. It was the kind of thing that almost made Binhadi believe old myths about weather mages. But for all the myths that were proving to be true after all, that one was firmly anchored in wishful thinking. If there were people capable of commanding the weather, nobody would be alive.
Though he half-wished they would be forced to turn back, or the mist would cause them to go off course, they reached Lirana's Island without incident and delayed only an hour. The sun had still not risen completely, leaving the world washed out and dreary.
Binhadi's breaths misted as he stepped out of the boat onto the large stone and wood pier. He offered a hand to Sule, then to Cemal as Sule helped Mahzan, and they stood watching as the boat pushed off again. The man had offered to wait for them, but Binhadi wanted as few civilians around as possible.
Guards appeared from the mist as they walked down the pier—and blanched noticeably as they saw him. All four of them dropped to one knee and bowed their heads, the man in charge of the group saying, "Warlock, your presence is an unexpected pleasure. What brings you all the way out here?"
"I am sorry to disturb your routine, Captain. Have you received any word from His Majesty? Rise, please."
The guards stood, the captain's face cut in a deep frown. "I've received no messages from anyone, my lord. It's been unusually quiet around here, in fact."
Binhadi's brows rose. "So you saw none of yesterday's disturbance?"
The captain shook his head. "We're just far enough away from the mainland that we rarely see anything, especially inside the fortress, where the walls are higher than is typical, and there's not many windows. What did we miss, my lord?"
Binhadi sighed and explained everything, from the fearmonger that had attacked them the day before to the reason for their presence there. "I'm surprised no messengers have made it this far with the news."
"It always takes them forever to get word to us. They have to travel over land; messenger birds almost never make it. They get eaten by the various creatures in the Red Forest," the captain said, voice ragged as he held back tears. The other guards hadn't bothered. Clearing his throat, the captain said, "I'll take you to Prince Seda at once. This way." He turned and strode off briskly back into the mist.
Binhadi and the others followed close behind, traveling through a set of heavy iron gates that squealed shut behind them, closing with a rattling bang. They climbed steep, slick stone steps, through and around the fortress that dominated the small island until they were climbing up the open air steps of the tower to the single door at the top.
The captain stopped at the last step and motioned them onto the balcony area around the door. "This is as far as I go, unless I have meals to deliver. If you need anything…"
"We won't, but I appreciate the offer, Captain. Any trouble we bring u
pon ourselves, I promise we will not drag you into it."
The captain nodded, bowed, and headed back down the stairs.
Binhadi barely paid him any mind, his attention full on the black, iron door laid with magic, a skill that few in the kingdom—in the world—possessed. It was why things like curses were superstition and nonsense. Magic was mostly a thing of people, a thing done here and now. Such items like his memory stone, or Cemal's sword, or the black door, were peculiarities, exceptions. If it were that easy to lay magic on things, the world would have been even worse off than if weather mages were real.
From the pocket of his tunic he drew out the glass jar in which he'd kept the handkerchief with Yavuz's blood. They had not put the magic on the door, but they did have mages who could alter it to change what allowed it to open. In this case, it required the blood of both Seda's brothers.
Drawing the dagger at his waist, he nicked his finger and approached the door, pressing both his finger and the bloody kerchief he'd carried all this way to the small, silvery panel in the very center. It shimmered, flashed, and a loud clicking sound briefly filled the air.
The smell of incense and wood smoke spilled out, underscored by the smell of a place used often but cleaned infrequently.
Binhadi drew a deep breath, kept his hands at his side and ready, though he would have preferred to hide that they were trembling.
Throughout, the other three had remained a silent, steady presence around him. Without them, Binhadi wasn't certain he'd have made it this far.
We're here for you whatever happens. I'm good at distracting, Sule is good at looking threatening, and Cemal is good at discreetly murdering.
Dragon eat you, Cemal replied idly.
Binhadi shoved the door open and stepped inside. The room was thankfully warmer than outside, always a remarkable feat in drafty castles, and was as luxurious as only a royal prison could be. Tapestries on the windows, the walls covered with heavy drapes to further block the cold. There was an enormous bed draped in still more silk and velvet, a small sitting area to one side, a writing desk and bookshelves at the opposite end, and all manner of trunks and boxes stacked against the wall with the door.