08 Blood War-Blood Destiny

by Suttle, Connie

  "What will Toff wear?" I asked. We had to take him; Wylend had requested it.

  "I have provided the outfit already," Erland sniffed. I’d hired two comesuli nannies to care for Toff when Grant, Davan, Giff and I weren’t available. "How well do you dance, my love?" Erland gave me a skeptical look.

  "Merrill and Franklin taught me the foxtrot and the waltz. Anything outside that and you may get your toes stepped on."

  "Just follow my lead," Erland was trying not to laugh.

  "You're leading? In this century?" I went after him. Few ever realized that the Karathian Witches and Warlocks switched attraction from males to females and vice-versa every hundred years or so. Erland was on the downside of a female cycle; anyway, that's what he called it.

  "Isn't this rather undignified?" Gavin walked in while I was chasing Erland around the bedroom.

  "I can chase you," I offered, stopping by the padded bench at the end of my bed.

  "I will not run, I prefer to be caught," he smiled. I stepped up on the bench and Gavin came to get me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist and started kissing him.

  "Don't wrinkle the dress," Erland herded everybody else from the bedroom and shut the door.

  * * *

  "I hope it's not after Labor Day," I said as I slipped into white heels.

  "Are you going over those human holidays again?" Erland was already dressed in a white tux with a red rose on his lapel.

  "Are you knocking my holidays?" I teased.

  "Of course. Belittling them. Ridiculing them."

  "Honey, was tact not part of your lessons at court?" I smiled as sweetly at him as I could.

  "I passed all those tests and promptly forgot everything I learned."

  "I can see that. Let's get Toff; his nanny should have him ready now." I placed the Tiralian crystal bracelet on my wrist.

  "Look at our little man," I laughed when the nanny handed Toff over—he wore a tiny blue suit.

  "Mmmm-mmm," Toff grinned at me. Erland took him from my arms and folded us to Karathia.

  The children were placed in a nursery when their parents arrived—Wylend and members of his Council would test them once all the guests were there. Pronouncements would be made over which children held exceptional talent and would be taught at court. The babies couldn't be brought past the age of four. If they hadn't been selected by that age, they wouldn't be.

  Several babysitters were there to care for the children, and each child was given a wristband to identify them. Each wristband was fastened on with power, so the child couldn't slip it off. Toff had a small green band with Erland's rune placed on it. The fathers' runes identified the children at court.

  "Just a formality," Erland took my hand. I waved at Toff while being led away.

  Griffin and Amara caught up with us a few minutes later, and both kissed me on the cheek. "How's Wyatt?" I asked.

  "A bundle of energy," Amara smiled. "Wylend says he already shows promise."

  "That's great," I said, and gave Amara a hug. Wyatt would likely be King of Karathia, one day. That day was probably a long way off—Karathians were nearly immortal. Servants were passing out wine, sparkling wine and other drinks, and Erland pulled two glasses off a tray and handed one to me. We were sipping sparkling wine and making small talk until Wylend chose to make his entrance, and that meant I wasn't expecting what happened. In fact, it was the last thing I'd thought might come to pass, given where we were and whose palace this was.

  Every light in the place went dark. The darkness was so thick; even I had a hard time seeing through it, which worried me. Many there thought Wylend had done this as a way to make a grand entrance, because the lights shone again after bare seconds. It wasn't until the screaming began that we knew something was wrong. One of the babysitters ran into the ballroom, shouting in terror. "A child is missing!" she shrieked. "A child is missing!"

  The shouted announcement caused a general stampede, with every parent inside the ballroom rushing toward the nursery. Erland and I, followed by Griffin and Amara, joined the crowd. Toff wouldn't be a target—he wasn't Karathian. While we struggled to get near the nursery, however, the mystery of who might accomplish something like this ran through my mind—who could get past what I was sure were shields placed by the strongest Warlocks?

  Guards had been stationed around the nursery and children were being handed off as runes were announced, one by one. Crying toddlers were given to frightened parents as each father's name was called. The crowd thinned before us and I was beginning to feel frightened. Wyatt, the King's heir, hadn't been handed over, yet. If someone had an ax to grind or wanted something from Wylend, this might be the way to do it.

  The guards were down to the last four children when Erland's name was called. He and I stepped forward, half-breathing a relieved sigh, to take Toff. Amara was in tears by that time. The child was handed over, but he was much too small and wore a tiny, green jumpsuit. Wyatt had been handed to me.

  "This isn't Toff," I stared at Erland in alarm. He examined the bracelet carefully—it was his rune. "Amara," I turned to hand Wyatt to her. She blinked at me in shock before pulling Wyatt against her and weeping tears of joy. "Where's Toff?" I demanded, misting past the guards to examine three remaining children. None of them was Toff. That's when I started screaming.

  * * *

  "Lissa, we have this." Wylend had come and was now handing a note to me. Erland took it; I was too numb to move. He read it aloud so I would know what it said.

  King Warlock, the letter read, we have your grandchild and heir. We are in desperate need of the services of one of your kind, and have not the money to pay. A battle comes our way and as you know, we do not engage in violence. Nevertheless, our own children will die if we do not receive assistance. According to our divinations, we will need the presence of one of yours in one month's time. Fail to come and your child will die as one of us—those who come for us intend to kill us all. The note was signed Tiearan of the Briar, Chief of the Green Birth.

  "How the fuck did this happen?" I muttered. Amara sat nearby, soothing Wyatt. He'd been fed earlier and was a bit fussy, refusing sleep. Griffin was looking at his son, more than likely thanking whatever mistake had spared him. I wasn't thankful. Not in the least. Somebody had Toff. Somebody who would likely not understand what he was, or what his needs were.

  "The Green Birth are peaceful Fae; they must truly be desperate," Wylend paced. We were all inside my grandfather's private study—had been ushered there as soon as I'd realized Toff was the child taken. "The only way they could accomplish this is if every member of their clan, which could include thousands, pooled their talent and drained the sun crystals they use. They couldn't have gotten past our shields, otherwise."

  Wylend was angry. I couldn't tell if he were angrier that Green Birth had gotten past the spells around his palace or that a comesuli child had been taken. He certainly wasn't angry that Wyatt had been spared. I could see the relief he and the others felt concerning that bit of salvation. Erland was trying to soothe me, but that wasn't a possibility.

  "And what will they do, if they discover that they do not hold my heir?" Wylend asked, turning his eyes on me. That question made my blood run cold. Everyone was saying Green Birth Fae didn't kill, but nothing stopped them from handing Toff to the ones who would.

  "Lissa, this is complicated," Belen folded in. "None of mine can interfere with this."

  "If I send any of mine, I have no idea what will happen," Wylend ran a hand through his hair. "My Warlocks have a tendency to kill first and then request an explanation. And if the Green Birth discover the child is not my heir, he could still die in any number of ways."

  "Don't you worry, I'll go myself," I stood up angrily. It was clear to me that nobody else was worried about a tiny comesula. "I'll go to Vionn and figure out what's going on. I'm warning you now, if I don't find anyone worth saving there, I'll take the planet apart. I don't care who it is. And if they've hurt Toff, well, so
much the worse for them."

  I jerked the skirt of my dress away—Erland had stepped on a part of it. Erland tried to stop me, but he had no hold over me. Nobody did, when I went to mist and then to energy and pulled even more power from the planet itself before rocketing toward the world its inhabitants called Vionn.

  * * *

  "Her leathers, blades and boots are missing." Drew was angry. Nobody had thought to tell any of them until the following day. Erland slunk in and passed along the information. Garde was furious, as was Gavin. Connegar and Reemagar folded in and they didn't look happy, either.

  "At least the Green Birth will not harm the child themselves," Reemagar sighed. Aurelius had arrived to calm Gavin, who looked angry enough to dismantle the palace. With Garde's help.

  "Belen won't let us help; he says this is outside our abilities according to the rules," Drake grumbled. He'd already had a talk with Dragon. His father informed him that unless Lissa's life was in danger, he couldn't go.

  * * *

  I had my clothing, my blades and a few extras rolled up in a large duffle bag I'd brought with me. The line I stood in stretched fifty people long as sunlight bore down on the flagstone-covered courtyard of King Rindil's castle. I'd done some Looking—Rindil had allied himself (and Farus, his country) with the Temple of The Red Hand on Vionn. The Red Hand was very close to what Solar Red had been in the beginning—only Solar Red had perfected their maiming and killing techniques over the centuries. Red Hand's temple was on the nearby continent of Ialus, two days away by ship from the shores of Farus, where Rindil ruled as King.

  The Pelipu, Head of The Red Hand on Vionn, had somehow convinced Rindil that killing off the Green Birth Fae was a good idea. He would rid Vionn of the Fae (who were demons, in his estimation) and Rindil and his nobles could get their hands on the richest farmland on the planet. Now, Rindil was recruiting soldiers for his half of the army—he and the Pelipu were sending armed troops to kill a race that wouldn't lift a weapon to fight back.

  Citizens of Farus stood in a line, signing up for the army. Most of them looked poor and were dressed in rags. A few I saw didn't have shoes. It was obvious that Farus was going through hard times, which explained why money from the Pelipu and his temple had tempted the new King of Farus. It didn't matter that many from Farus coexisted with the Green Birth Fae, and that the half-Fae children would die with their Fae parents. The whole thing made we want to curse. Instead, I was about to join the army, just to determine whether anyone involved in this one-sided war deserved to live.

  The army took males or females, which was a good thing. At least they weren't backward about that and honestly; I think the newly crowned King would be happy to get anyone he could. Most waiting in line to join the King's army didn't have any experience at all. It didn't matter—what experience did they need to go after someone that didn't kill? Whenever I thought about Toff, who was stuck somewhere in the middle of it all, I felt sick.

  "Name?" The Sergeant was tired and grumpy; he barely bothered to look at me when I reached his table. A scribe sat next to him, making out the records.

  "Liss," I said. I had my doubts that many of these could pronounce more than one-syllable words, so I shortened my name.

  "From?"

  "Seaport."

  "Have your own clothing, or do we need to provide?" the Sergeant gruffed. He was middle-aged, bald, had two teeth missing in front and looked as tough as shoe leather.

  "I have my own," I said.

  "I have need of a runner and bodyguard," someone walked up behind the Sergeant. "What is the name?"

  "Says Liss," the Sergeant didn't sound complimentary as he looked up at the newcomer. The one who stood behind him was tall—nearly as tall as Tony—and was handsome, even with the scar that ran down the left side of his face. He was dressed in black, head to heel, and was clean and didn't smell, like everyone else.

  "Liss," the tall man said, "do you stay this clean most of the time?"

  "Yes, sir. As often as possible. If water is available, I will most certainly be clean."

  "Good. You're with me. Mark it down, scribe."

  That was how I came to be hired into King Rindil's army as Captain Solis' runner and bodyguard. He'd hired me sight unseen, just because I was clean. I also discovered by Looking that he preferred men and was in a long-term relationship. However, he was on unstable ground and he knew it. Farus didn't mind same-sex relationships, but the Pelipu didn't see things the same way. The Pelipu and The Temple of The Red Hand were causing rumblings, and soon all of Vionn might hold the same prejudiced outlook that the Pelipu did. Solis was protecting himself by hiring a female as his bodyguard. Most might think he'd hired me for obvious reasons and not look past that.

  I trotted along behind Solis, whose legs were longer. Not that it bothered me; I could outwalk him anytime. I just didn't want to draw attention to myself. If the Pelipu didn't like gays, he sure wasn't going to like what I was.

  "Do you have weapons, Liss?" Solis asked as we walked toward a sea of tents below the castle.

  "I have weapons. Sir."

  "You don't have to call me that unless we are around others. Then it is proper."

  "Of course."

  "I had no idea that anyone from Seaport was so polite," Solis observed.

  "Generally I'm not polite," I said. "I just didn't want to frighten you right away." That made him laugh. I was speaking the local language—I'd had that talent for a while, now. Pheligar had given me all languages except High Demon, and that one I'd learned with difficulty and on my own. Turning away from those thoughts, I focused on Solis again. I wanted to ask him what he thought about the war. I wanted to ask when the army would head out to conquer the Green Birth and the citizens of Farus who coexisted with them. That would be overstepping my bounds, so I kept my mouth closed and those questions to myself.

  I also wondered what everyone was doing on Le-Ath Veronis and what they'd done with the increasing number of wall climbers with connections to Solar Red. Those thoughts were a nagging problem at the back of my mind, but Toff had to come first. I had no idea how organized Solar Red was or what their intentions were where Le-Ath Veronis or I was concerned. Nobody else seemed to be worried about Toff at all. That pissed me off. In a royal way.

  How the hell had the bracelets gotten mixed up? Had Green Birth done it? I couldn't imagine that they'd trade the real heir for someone else who didn't make a bit of difference to the Karathian population. That worry chased itself around in my mind, so I had to let it go for the moment. I was going to see what there was to be seen, and then make a decision at the end of the road, here.

  "What's that following at your heel, Solis?" A fellow officer fell in step with Solis.

  "My bodyguard and runner," Solis replied, not bothering to stop and chat with the newcomer. The other, also a Captain, decided to stay in step with us and insult me at the same time. Well, he could multitask; I'll give him that.

  "That's not tall enough to take a good swing from regular army, even."

  "You think I'll let regular army insult me in that way?" Solis' hand fell to the hilt of his sword.

  "Not at all," the other one held his hands up in a placating gesture. I wanted to tell him that I'd take him on and he'd be dead in a blink, but I kept the words behind my teeth.

  "I'll bet she doesn't know how to take care of your blade," the other one said.

  "Liss, do you know how to care for a blade?" Solis flung behind him.

  "Yes, sir." I did—Drake and Drew made sure of that. I could clean, sharpen and polish, even though my blades, made by Grey House, didn't need sharpening. Drake and Drew had brought old blades to me and watched carefully while I did it, until I'd passed inspection. Falchani are funny that way. You don't mistreat a blade around them—they get downright serious about it.

  "See?" Solis wasn't even looking at the Captain at his side. "Desmun, if you don't have anything constructive to say, I have other things more pressing."

  "I'll tr
ade my runner for her." Desmun had a motive and it just became clear.

  "No, the assignment has already been recorded and I don't have the patience to go back and change it now. You're stuck, Desmun. Besides, I don't expect Liss would welcome you in her bedroll. Good-bye, Desmun." Desmun stopped walking and Solis and I soon left him behind. I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

  "This is our tent, and will be for the next three days," Solis announced as I dumped my duffle inside. "After that, we'll pack up and move out. Regulars set up the officer's tents, and the tents with a single green stripe are the Sergeant's tents. Two green stripes are Lieutenants, and three green stripes are the Captains' tents. General's tent is all green. Got it?" Solis pulled me through the tent flap into sunlight again, and swept out an arm. Five more Captains' tents surrounded ours, all with the designated three green stripes. Beyond them lay eight tents with two green stripes, and twelve with a single green stripe. A sea of plain canvas tents surrounded us past that point.

  "Yes, sir." I nodded at Solis' gesture. He led me inside the tent, again, which was divided into two sections by a canvas drape. He pointed out his portion; it was the section at the back of the tent. "I use this space as my sleeping quarters and office. Understand?" I nodded again.

  "Good. The space inside the flap is yours, and it's your job to guard me while I sleep. Regulars are supposed to keep watch during the night, but you need to at least trip anyone coming in without permission."

  "Oh, I'll do more than that, sir."

  Solis smiled briefly. "Good," he nodded. "Stow your gear and we'll go watch the exercises. Wear your blade."

  Solis was waiting outside the tent when I walked out of it, wearing black leathers with both blades strapped to my back.

  "You use both of those?" Solis lifted an eyebrow.

  "When I have to," I said. The hilts of my blades lay conveniently over my shoulders so I could put my hands on them quickly if needed. The Falchani knew what they were doing when they designed those sheaths and leather harnesses.