by A. F. Dery
He leaned against it a moment, panting, as he turned and surveyed the room. It appeared to be a parlor of some kind, and it was most fortunately empty at the moment except for himself. He looked around desperately for the door he could only hope existed: a door to the servants’ network of hallways. Not every room had one, but a parlor seemed like a promising choice for one.
He heard footfalls slowing near the door just as his eyes fell upon the notch next to a set of shelves built into one wall, displaying various bits of painted pottery. He lunged for it as he heard the footfalls stop right outside the door, and could have wept when a door, painted to blend seamlessly in with the wall, swung open as he pulled on the notch. He slipped inside and quickly closed it, darkness closing in around him.
He heard the door of the room he had just exited creak open as he turned to the hallway, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. It was far darker in these hallways, only dimly lit as they were with widely spaced wall sconces, not all of which were even lit. A sure sign of the times, if the High Lord is being stingy with candles for the servants, Malachi thought grimly. So many signs, now that we know, and all of them too late!
Once he regained his bearings, he pressed on down the hallway, as quickly as he dared. He avoided any of the doors that connected to the outer rooms, until he started seeing more and more servants scurrying past. He managed to stand still enough in the gloom that they hurried right past him, either not noticing him or mistaking him in the dim lighting for one of their fellows. He noticed a good number of them were moving down an eastern hallway, and as soon as there was a lull in their numbers, he went quickly after them, all but holding his breath in an effort to remain silent.
He soon heard why they were congregating in this direction: he detected the unmistakable clangor of pots and pans, followed by a wafting smell of roasting meat.
The kitchens, he mused. Not the best place to go to avoid detection, but I have to get Maggie and the babe to safety. A thought had been percolating in the back of his mind as he’d woven his way through these corridors: he needed help, and badly. The High Lord was correct that he could not get them out on his own, and even if he moved them to these back hallways, they could only remain hidden there for so long.
The only person he ever would have trusted had just been swarmed by the High Lord’s men and was no doubt in a dungeon by now as a form of coercion for the Mirror.
Who would Thane have trusted, in my position? Malachi asked himself, thinking desperately. Eladrians were notoriously miserly with their trust, and Thane was literally their king, or the equivalent thereof.
Then the answer suddenly loomed before him, as if it had melted fully formed from the very walls.
“I smell blood, if I’m not much mistaken,” a little old woman with a bark brown face and little beady eyes rasped. She smiled a pointy-toothed graveyard of a smile and Malachi did not manage to suppress a shudder. “You were summoned with my boy, were you not, necromancer?”
Malachi flinched as if he had been struck, which in a way, he had been. “I am not sure what you are suggesting-” he began, but the…creature…held up a long, pointy fingered hand.
“Ah, now, let’s don’t lie to old Graunt,” she all but purred. “I’ve tasted your magic. It tastes like your blood would, if you must know. I know what’s necromancy when I see it, and even when I don’t.”
Malachi’s eyes widened. “Does Thane-”
Again she waved the hand, appearing unconcerned, although her dark eyes remained riveted on him without blinking in a way that made his skin crawl. “I tell my boy what he needs to know, when he needs to know it. You’re not skilled enough to be of any threat to the likes of him. Your interests are far too…narrow. But that doesn’t matter now. You were with him, and now you are fleeing with an arrow sticking out of you, stinking of blood. I can stop your bleeding in short order…” Here she licked her lips. “Unless you have some news of him for me?”
“Graunt, he’s been taken by the High Lord’s men. We’ve been betrayed,” Malachi said quickly, and he summarized as succinctly as possible what had taken place.
As she listened, the facade of little old woman dropped from the creature until she was clearly something else entirely. Her black eyes were narrowed to mere pinpricks in the folds of her face, and the hair atop her pointy head seemed to be sticking out in an odd way, no longer contained by the hood she wore. She radiated a feeling much as a flower radiates scent, and the feeling was something Malachi could only describe as malice.
His heart hammered in his chest, and it was all he could do to stand still, suddenly more afraid than he had been in the High Lord’s private rooms with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder and a veritable sea of his guards standing between him and Maggie.
“Interesting,” was all the creature said.
“I…I need your help,” he stammered. Words were coming with greater and greater difficulty as he continued speaking with her. It was hard to think with those cold dark eyes staring at him. “M-my wife…”
“Oh, I will help the child, and her child, have no fear about that,” Graunt said slowly. Her voice now reminded him of sharp things and dark places, and he swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to beg her to stay away from them. Thane trusts her, Thane trusts her, he chanted silently to himself. “I will hide them away where no one can find them,” she continued, “not even you, necromancer. They will stay hid until my boy is free again, and you will help him, whatever it costs you.”
“He is almost certainly in the dungeons by now,” Malachi told her, feeling an urgent need to satisfy the creature through whatever means necessary. Especially if she’s going to Maggie…
“Almost isn’t enough,” Graunt growled, showing her teeth. He took an involuntary step backward, smacking into the wall behind him with a grunt. “But never mind that. Find your way back, and wait by the High Lord’s rooms. Stay out of sight, if you can manage it. Be prepared to fight if you can’t. The little rabbit is not so stupid; she will agree to nothing without seeing that he does have her refrere captive, and that means dungeon or not, my boy will be back there again. And when he does emerge, you will do whatever he needs.” Her voice dropped to a low hiss. “I’m sure I need not tell you what is at stake.”
Malachi shook his head, unable to speak. The creature’s eyes seemed to be piercing through him, and he suddenly couldn’t form a coherent thought, or make a sound.
Then she looked away suddenly, and he almost fell to his knees, as though it had been nothing but her gaze holding him up against the wall. “Take care of that arrow first. You’ll be no good to him if you drop from blood loss first,” she said, almost casually. “There’s bandages in the side room off the kitchen.”
Then she moved off down the corridor, disappearing from view within moments as if she’d simply melted back into the walls she had seemingly sprung from.
Malachi squinted into the darkness after her, inexplicably short of breath as he leaned against the wall for an entirely different reason now.
I sure as hell hope you knew what you were doing by trusting her, Thane, he thought anxiously, then he set off for the side room.
CHAPTER NINE
Kesara felt like she was floating. Her feet simply couldn’t touch the floor. She hadn’t stopped smiling since Thane had kissed her goodbye before going to meet the High Lord. She thought he couldn’t possibly return from his meeting quickly enough. All of the Lyntarans in Lyntara couldn’t spoil my mood right now, she thought happily, sitting at the dressing table in her room and brushing out her long dark hair. She thought he’d like to see it down, for once. Maybe more than “for once.” Her cheeks were red and her eyes were bright.
In her wildest dreams, she had never imagined having a life or a future like this. Loving her refrere, being loved by her refrere. It was an idea that had never even occurred to her before, so far outside the very limits of credulity it was. This was not the life she’d been taught to expect, or even the somewhat sugar
-coated version she had, in her more optimistic moments, hoped for. She was sure she must be dreaming, and equally sure she never wanted to wake up. He’s all I want, and he wants me. I can’t wait until he-
She heard the outer door open and nearly flew to her feet, only just remembering to put down the hairbrush before hurrying to the door. That was quicker than I thought. Not that I’m complaining. I hope it went well for him. She smoothed down her dress a little self consciously and went out into the corridor.
Not a step outside her room, a gauntleted hand seized her arm, hard. She looked up in shock to see, not her refrere, but one of the High Lord’s guards. She heard the sounds of some kind of scuffle outside the room.
She stared at him, wide eyed. “What’s going on? Where’s Tha-Lord Eladria?”
“The High Lord has requested your presence,” the guard said stonily.
“I’m not really ready-” she stammered.
“You will come now.” It was clear that it wasn’t really a “request.” Kesara frowned.
“Of course,” she demurred. Thane’s supposed to be with him. I can’t imagine he knew they’d come for me like this, though.
The guard did not release her arm. As he led her briskly from the room, she saw that there were a number of guards milling around outside. From the corner of her eye, she saw the body of an Eladrian sprawled across the floor near the doorway, and her blood ran cold.
Oh gods, something has happened, she thought frantically. Did Lyntarans make it in here? Thane feels all right…She could sense no new pain through their bond, maybe another headache starting but given everything that had happened and how long it had been since he last rested, that wasn’t unreasonable.
The march to the High Lord felt like it took an eternity. Whereas before, her feet hadn’t been able to touch the floor, now they dragged as though made of lead. Each step felt impossibly slow. She was desperate to get to Thane and find out what was going on, but if anything, the guard gripping her arm was slowing her steps. She dared not say anything, not wanting to cast an unfavorable impression on her Lord by uttering complaints, but her heart was racing with anxiety.
At last, they had made their way through a myriad of corridors to what she assumed were the High Lord’s private rooms, where he and Thane had been supposed to meet. The guard rapped quickly on the door, and it was promptly opened by another guard on the opposite side. He pulled her into the room and down a long hallway, lined with closed doors. At the very end was a door larger than all the others. Again, he rapped on it, and it was opened for him.
The room beyond it was like something from a nightmare.
In and of itself, it was just a room, of course. A large room, perfectly round once the entry way was cleared. Turret-style windows were set high up in the walls, casting waning daylight into the room. Compared to the rest of the building, it was far plainer in appearance; the adornments on the walls were simple, and the thick carpet lining the floor was a plain, subdued green. Along both sides of the room, half a dozen soldiers in Almryn livery stood at attention, each armed and standing so still as to resemble statues.
At the end of the room sat the only furnishing, a large chair, perhaps just shy of being what Kesara would consider a throne, also simple and tasteful in design. The High Lord, in elegant blue robes, was seated on it.
All of this, Kesara took in with one sweeping glance, and it failed to make any impression. What stabbed her in the heart and transfixed her gaze was the sight of Thane, Dread Lord of Eladria, chained to a metal stake jutting from the floor by the High Lord’s feet as though nothing more than a beast. The chains, wound around feet and hands and even his torso, were far too thick for even a man of his strength to break, and far too short for a man of his size to even fully sit up. He was kneeling, his torso forced to bend over so far by the chains that he could not fully raise his head to look at the newcomers in the room, even if he’d chosen to do so. His dark red hair had come loose from its thong, and hung around his face, obscuring it completely from her view.
Rage, pure and hot, flooded her veins. She felt like she had just caught fire. She took an involuntary step forward, entirely forgetting the guard’s hand on her arm. He did not move, holding her back. With great difficulty, she tore her eyes from Thane and met the High Lord’s.
They were amused, crinkling with a smile that had not yet reached his mouth. The fire burned hotter still. She kept her face utterly blank.
“Greetings and welcome, Mistress Jonril,” he said, rising and giving a polite tilt of his head in her direction. “My apologies for the alarm you must have experienced in being brought here in such a way. I’m afraid this day has been full of the unexpected for all of us.”
Thane’s head jerked at the sound of her name. “Kes, don’t do it,” he said immediately. “Don’t do what he wants.” His voice sounded rough, but strong.
“Let us leave that decision to your Mirror, shall we, Thane? After all, she is not in possession of all the facts.” Now the High Lord did smile. He sat back down, crossing one leg casually over the over. “Mistress Jonril- Kesara, if I may-” he paused, but she said nothing. His smile widened slightly. “Ah, Kesara. I regret to be the one to tell you that I have found your Lord guilty of violating the concord. After our little meeting here, he will be imprisoned for his crime. It seems he has attempted to murder the Lady of his enemy, Lord Malachi.” The smiled faded, and he shook his head slightly. “I am certain you must be aware they have been feuding for some time. It seems he poisoned some cider he sent as a wedding gift to the happy couple as a sign of his disapproval of their marriage. The Lady in question nearly died, and who knows what complications this could have caused to the child in her womb, who even now, as I understand it, struggles for life.” His mouth formed a regretful moue.
Kesara’s face felt like it was made of stone. She knew nothing of this talk of poisoned cider, but she was certain Thane had nothing to do with it. She knew him too well.
The High Lord went on. “I’m afraid there must be another penalty for his crime as well. The Union has need of your very special talents during these troubling times. We must not be punished for your Lord’s infidelity. He can make no use of you during his imprisonment, of course, but I can certainly do so. In fact, I must do so, for the safety not only of my own country, but of all those bound in the Union. That sounds reasonable, does it not?”
Kesara gave a slight shake of her head. “I serve the Union through Lord Eladria alone, and I will stay with him, whatever the outcome.”
“You don’t need to, though. I know you are bonded to him. You would be staying in prison, to do such a foolish thing.”
“So be it,” she said, lifting her chain.
The High Lord sighed. “I’m afraid it’s simply not an option. You are guilty of no crime, after all. You did not even know him when this horrible incident took place. No, Kesara, you may not join him in imprisonment, but I’m afraid you must join me. Many lives are at stake.”
“I won’t help you,” she said coldly. “My loyalty is with Eladria, not with you, and not with this Union you speak of.”
“I can’t allow that, Kesara. I don’t think you properly understand the situation, not at all. You see, if you do not do as I tell you, I will kill him. And you, inevitably, of course, since you quite literally can’t live without him.” The High Lord’s voice turned to ice as he uncrossed his leg and leaned towards her, his eyes intent on her face.
“I am of no use to you dead,” she pointed out.
But to her surprise, he smiled broadly. “No, you aren’t. But if I can’t use you, no one will. I know the truth about you, Kesara. I know you are broken.”
Kesara’s eyes widened, a frisson of fear going through her. No, he doesn’t know, he can’t…no one knows, except Thane, and he never would have told him…
The High Lord chuckled, noticing the change in her eyes. He leaned back again, suddenly relaxing. “You did not hide yourself as well as you thought you did, my de
ar. But no matter. I know you can cause pain, not just take it. And you should know, if you do anything to me, well, my guards are under orders to kill your Lord. In fact, if you do anything to anyone without my direct order, he is to be killed. Do you understand now? You will do as I tell you, or he will die. Even if you care nothing for your own life, I can’t help but suspect that you feel differently about his. One of my servants reported seeing you both in quite the interesting position, just earlier today.” The High Lord winced a little. “I have heard of much perversity in my life, but I never imagined…well, no matter. There are all kinds of taste in the world.”
“Kes, you can’t,” Thane said loudly, speaking over the High Lord’s last words. “I don’t care if I die. And I know…I know you would rather be dead than exist as his slave. That’s all you would be. His slave, until one of us dies. I would rather be dead than for you to go back to that.” His voice was thick with emotion, and it took her a moment to work out the words in her own head, but she could not mistake their meaning. Her heart sank.
“I love you, Thane, and I would do anything for you,” she said, her voice breaking. “But I can’t…I just can’t let you die.” She rapidly blinked away tears. “To me, you’re all that’s good in the world. If anything or anyone should be saved, it’s you.”
“Kes, please-”
“Excellent, Kesara. You’re making the right choice.” The High Lord clapped his hands together in delight.
“No, I’m not,” she said clearly.
“Kes, no, this isn’t what you want,” Thane cried. His distress tore at her.
Before her tear filled eyes, she no longer saw her heart chained to the floor, or an arrogant Lord in blue robes. She saw blood, and death, and new life being born, and bodies being cut open on fields of battle. She saw the glint of sharp teeth and the glittering of blades.