Leo then mutters something quietly. A second too late, Caius notices his hands are glowing blue.
A force rams Caius against the bars and holds him there, the sudden impact knocking the sword from his hand. The room floods with azure light, emanating off the beam of magic connecting Leo’s hand to the centre of Caius’ chest. The force pushes him against the bars until the iron digs into his skin. He can’t draw a single breath.
The force disappears, dropping Caius to the floor in a heap. Dazed, he watches Leo rise and cast a red glow about himself. The bruises on his swollen face melt away.
“That’s better,” Leo sighs, walking over. He kneels in front of Caius. “You seem to forget who I am.”
Caius struggles to catch his breath. His head aches. He reaches around for his sword, but it’s too far away. He fumbles for his dagger.
“You always thought little of me, I know,” Leo says, tilting his head down at Caius. “But I’ll be the one walking out, free of guilt. And you’ll be lying here, remembering that you were the one—” he smirks, “—who killed Evelyn.”
He pulls back, producing a tiny silver bottle from his robes. He drinks it all in one gulp. As his skin fades into the grey wall, he says, “Until next we meet, Caius.”
Some silvery spell glitters over his robes, turning them invisible as well. The prison door slams closed, and Leo chuckles to himself all the way up the stairs.
Chapter 5
The Count and the Silver Mace
Asher takes a seat next to Ilvara on the bed. After a long moment, he says, “I’m sorry we disturbed you.”
Ilvara waves a hand. “It’s all right. I was finished anyway. To be truthful, I could sit here talking for ages, but it wouldn’t make any difference. I just wish we could have made her life easier; you know?”
Asher winces. “I’m afraid I do. What’s that?”
Ilvara lifts the small roll of parchment. “The first letter she wrote to me.”
The door crashes open. Ilvara and Asher rise from the bed as Hadrian appears, face pinched with agitation.
“This is hardly appropriate,” he says tersely. “An ex-general alone in my bedchambers with my wife, in the middle of the night.”
“Begging your pardon, my lord,” Asher blurts, hurrying from the room.
As he disappears, Hadrian glares at Ilvara. “Gods, woman, what are you doing?”
Ilvara gestures to the bed. “I am mourning.”
Hadrian’s angry gaze turns to the bed. Without missing a beat, he asks, “Is that your servant girl?”
Ilvara recoils as if an arrow has hit her. “Yes,” she returns, voice quivering. “Evelyn is dead.”
“What does this have to do with Asher and Caius returning? Where is my general? Why was Asher in this room with you?”
Ilvara shakes her head. “What? Do you not see what’s going on? Evelyn has been killed. Does that mean nothing to you?”
He raises his palms, voice softening to a patronizing tone. “Of course. It means very much to me that the woman who left our service to join the army was killed after she escaped from prison.”
Tears flood Ilvara’s eyes. “What is wrong with you? I loved this woman as my daughter. You know that.”
“Oh, not this nonsense again.” Hadrian steps forward to grab Ilvara’s shoulders. “She wasn’t your daughter. Your womb can’t hold children,” he says in her face.
Ilvara wrenches free of him with a cry. Then, taking up a small flower pot, she flings it at him. “I loved her!” she screams.
Hadrian ducks so the clay shatters against the door, spraying dirt. He whips back around to face her. “Why? In all the time I knew her, I never found one appealing quality.” He lists things on his fingers. “Those scars made her ugly, and she wouldn’t interact with anyone really but you. She wasn’t a good worker, so we had to hire other servants to help her, or just give her menial jobs to keep her busy. She had that dull expression every day of her life. And then, she left. Now, if she’d been a good soldier, then maybe she’d been worth something, but she could barely fight. I heard the rumours and reports. By the time she escaped, she was barely any better at holding a sword than she was her first day. What was any of it worth?”
Ilvara sobs wretchedly. “Everything. She did it all for me.”
“All those soldiers go out and fight for us. She was no different.”
Ilvara curses at him. “Don’t lie to me, Hadrian. I know you found something appealing about her at first.”
Hadrian stares. “What are you implying?”
“I reread my old journal entries. Remember how she changed after she came here? She was full of life one day, then unable to get out of bed the next?”
He rolls his eyes. “She was always like that.”
Ilvara stomps up to him, jabbing a finger in his face. “No. That time, it was your fault. You liked her at first. I know you did. You were accustomed to having a steady stream of women through your bedchambers before I came along. You married me because I was different, an adventurer. But you tired of me quickly, and Evelyn became your focus.”
Hadrian shakes his head. “You’re wrong, Ilvara. I loved you.”
“Perhaps you thought so at first.” Ilvara clenches her hands, dropping her head. “But I remember catching maids in your study or in here, waiting for you. They always had some excuse. They were giving something a good cleaning, or they had left something in that room the day before. Then there was Dianna.”
“That wasn’t me,” Hadrian bites back.
“She was pregnant,” Ilvara says wearily. “She had no husband. She was just a maid here when, suddenly, she had to leave. I heard the girls whispering about you two.”
“I never touched any of those women. And I never touched Evelyn.”
Ilvara gazes back at her still form on the bed. “She would have never admitted it to me herself. Perhaps she even lost it in the midst of everything else she had to keep in her heart. But it was there. She could barely stand being around you after that.”
Hadrian curses. “You aren’t listening to me. I did nothing.” He runs his hands back through his hair. “You exhaust me, Ilvara. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
The tears flood again. “For once,” she says firmly, stepping close to him. “For once, just tell me the truth.”
Hadrian sighs. “About what?”
She wants answers to so many things, but only one will seal the fate of their future.
“Was it my fault?” She stares into his eyes, searching them for some kind of answer. “Was it my fault we couldn’t have children?”
Hadrian pauses and looks away. “I really don’t know. Dianna…I knew she was seeing someone else in the castle at the same time.”
Ilvara covers her face with her hands. Through her fingers she says, “That’s it. That’s why you started resenting me. That’s why you looked elsewhere. I couldn’t give you children, and you already knew that other women could because you’d tried.”
“Ilvara, I—”
Her head shoots up. “You what? I’ll give you a moment to give your best reasoning for your blatant adultery. And Evelyn? You really did nothing to her?”
Hadrian swallows. “I…She…I…”
Ilvara smiles sourly. “Hadrian Beaumont, great orator, capable count, unable to spit out a sentence to his own wife. And you dare accuse me of being unfaithful.” When he tries again, she raises her palms. “Enough. Let me go with at least the memory of my respect for you.” She straightens her shoulders, tears rolling down her cheeks. She draws a deep breath. “Find Dianna.”
“No.”
“Shh. Listen. Tell her that your wife has left for good. Bring her here and give her employment. Do not let on to your relationship right away. Let the child live here with her. Raise him well so he feels he belongs here. Form a gradual bond with both Dianna and her son. Since I will be gone, it will not cause a scandal for you to eventually marry her and claim your son as the heir. That way it will be
real royal blood ruling Lockmire. Your grandparents would have been very proud.”
“Ilvara…” he says softly.
She takes his hand, voice quivering now. That’s the way he used to say her name.
“Please,” she goes on. “You’ve taken much from me, and I’ve taken much from you. Do the right thing this time. It will bring me peace to know that Lockmire has a future. That you have a future. Perhaps even one that is happy.”
Hadrian swallows hard. After a moment, he asks, “Where are you going?”
“Tarreth. After that, I don’t know. Maybe back to Nequa, if I can.”
He brushes cold knuckles against her cheek. “I don’t want to do that to you. Have another woman take your place.”
She eyes him sadly. How blind can one man be? “It’s not my place anymore,” she replies. Has it ever been? “We both need to accept it. You’re as happy to see me go as I am to leave.”
Hadrian cringes at her harshness, but doesn’t deny it. Nodding, he crosses his arms. “All right. When are you going?”
“Now. I just need to gather my people.”
He lowers his brows. “Of course. Take whoever you need.”
“I’m not taking any of the servants,” she says. “But Caius and Asher will probably want to come, along with Caius’ little girl.”
Hadrian doesn’t even ask about that. Probably doesn’t want to delay the process. He gestures to the bed with his chin. “And her?”
Ilvara realizes at that moment that she absolutely despises this man—this man she once adored, this man she once thought worthy of giving up the life she loved. But, at this moment, she doesn’t have the strength for revenge. She just wants to get away from him, from this castle, from Lockmire itself.
Mouth dry, she answers, “Yes. And her.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Caius glances up from the floor when Grogar walks in.
“What happened?” Grogar asks.
Caius’ face burns with humiliation. “He escaped.”
Grogar opens the cell door with a key at his waist. “Will you live?”
“Yes.”
“The countess is looking for you.”
Caius meets her at the top of the stairs. She seizes Caius’ arm in a fierce grip and says, so low that only they can hear:
“We must go now. I am no longer welcome here.” Her eyes blaze with nearby torchlight. “Get Evelyn’s body, and your daughter’s. Gather cloaks to shield them from the rain. Actually, take all you can carry. Anything. Everything. Hadrian is out to find someone. We must hurry. Fetch Asher and meet me outside the city.”
Then she is gone, jogging through the throng in the main hall toward the kitchens, a sturdy satchel bobbing on her back. Caius checks Grogar’s reaction to such news and finds the Orc looking rather pleased.
“Finally,” Grogar says, “a little excitement.”
He leads the way back through the crowd of frightened, bone-soaked villagers, mostly female. Once they arrive in Ilvara’s bedchambers, he walks straight toward a glass case that holds the finest silver mace Caius has ever seen. Grogar breaks the glass with a single pound of his fist. He plucks the mace from its stand and holds it in the light. Perfectly polished steel, embellished with gold designs on the handle. Grogar grins with satisfaction.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says. “I’ve wanted it since I first arrived as the countess’ bodyguard.”
Caius approaches Evelyn’s side. Alesia lies unconscious next to her on the bed. Somebody must have moved her there.
“Cloaks,” he murmurs, “to protect them from the rain.”
“Here,” says Grogar, drawing a few thick ones from a chest. “We’ll take all of them.” He lays one on each of the women.
Caius touches Alesia’s forehead. It’s warm. “Is she better? Worse?” he mutters to himself.
“We must make haste,” the Orc urges him from across the room, where he shakes a massive satchel in the air.
“What do you intend to do with that?” Caius asks.
“Fill it, of course,” Grogar says with a smile.
Caius can’t help but enjoy pulling open drawers, pawing through desks, and inspecting bookcases for any valuables. He tosses in gems, all the jewelry left, which basically consists of a few gods’ charms and a necklace with a small chunk of black rock. There are some spare coppers, interesting books, potions. Lastly, he spots a stack of parchment on one of the desks and reaches for it.
Evelyn’s journal. Caius brushes a thumb over the ink on the first page. He plucks another book from the shelf, tears out the interior, and tucks Evelyn’s pages inside the cover. To better ensure it is protected, he wraps it with a small square of fabric from the end of Ilvara’s bed. He tucks the bundle at the bottom of the satchel as Grogar throws a mass of blankets on top. Among these, Grogar adds the extra cloaks, pillows, satin coverlets, and changes of clothing from the dressers. They fold the heavier materials tightly to take up less room.
Caius eyes a shattered clay vessel lying in a pile of dirt on the floor. He picks up one of the shards to examine. This is one of two identical planters on most desks in this castle. How did it fall?
Perhaps someone threw it.
Caius drops the piece again. He’s glad he wasn’t here to witness the fight that caused someone to throw it, but whatever it was, it meant that Ilvara cannot return here. The thought is strange to him. Lockmire without Countess Ilvara.
Almost as empty as his life without her.
Chapter 6
Nightmares
Outside, the wind howls like an ethereal creature. Lightning douses the charcoal world with momentary bursts of silver, followed by ground-rocking thunder so loud it seems the mountains themselves are crashing down upon the city. Unyielding sheets of rain drench Caius and Grogar as they dash through the courtyard, holding Evelyn and Alesia.
“Do you think we should have searched more for Asher?” Caius shouts above the storm.
“The countess said to meet her outside, and Asher wasn’t in our immediate vicinity. He may already be with her.”
Grogar shifts Alesia so he can tug open the door to the village area. Orange light leaps through the opening. Caius gasps at the blazing houses. Yellow flames curl out through windows and doors, reaching for the rain-soaked roofs, sputtering in the downpour. Black forms swarm about, throwing useless buckets of water on the fires, running, screaming.
“The gods punish us this night!” they cry.
Caius tries to catch his breath. He half-expects a bandit leader to ride by, ordering him to eliminate one of the families.
Grogar shoves his arm. “Onward, man,” he shouts.
Caius inhales quickly, coughing as rainwater shoots down his throat. No, he must breathe. If he does not breathe, then he will collapse. And he is holding her. He cannot collapse.
He follows Grogar down the path toward the city gates. “Asher!” Caius shouts at the featureless humans running about. “Asher!”
“Make haste,” Grogar orders.
“Asher!”
“I say, leave it be.”
Grogar has just begun to open the outer gate when Caius hears his name. He turns to see someone running toward him, form silhouetted by a burning cottage behind them. Only when they are all outside, with the glare of the flames gone and the screaming muffled, does Caius realize it is indeed Asher next to him. They all stand in the arch of the doorway in the flickering torchlight, protected from the rain by the stone walk above.
Grogar hands Asher a cloak from his satchel. “I thought we’d lost you,” he says, a note of disappointment in his voice.
Asher wraps the cloak around his dripping body. “I wanted to see if I could help with the fires. Thanks for calling out,” he says to Caius.
“There now, do we have everyone?”
The voice is hard to hear through the rain, but all the men turn to the direction of it. Ilvara appears from the darkness into the archway.
“My lady, why are we leaving?” Grogar a
sks her. “Why are you not welcome here?”
“It is a long, arduous story, my friend. If you stay with Hadrian, he will pay your final salary. Perhaps he’ll even keep you on for his new wife.”
“New wife?” the three men say at once.
Ilvara raises her hands to silence their many questions. “I’ll tell you this much: Hadrian and I have separated, and he plans to remarry. I’m leaving Lockmire and do not ever plan to return. That way, Lockmire might have an heir, and Hadrian can lead his city without my interference.”
This explanation does little to satisfy their curiosities; however, the look on Ilvara’s face tells Caius she does not wish to dissect the events of her evening. She just wants to keep moving.
“So, what now?” Caius asks after a lengthy silence.
“We will bury Evelyn in Tarreth,” Ilvara says, “in the Resting Garden behind the Shrine of the Seven. That way, she will be laid to rest in an honourable place. After that, I’ll return to the wilderness of Nequa. I want to lose myself again in adventures, and forget everything about Ardellon.” She nods at Caius. “I also believe the Shrine workers can help with your daughter. They are known for their connections to Medela, goddess of health. They can, hopefully, reverse her terrible wounds.
“As for the rest of you: Asher, you are free to join us for the burial ceremony, or you may remain here to serve as general. I do doubt, however, that Hadrian will want to keep you employed. If not, Tarreth is full of opportunities, as you know. And Grogar, you are released from your duty to me. You may stay here if you so wish.”
Grogar frowns at her. “I swore an oath to you that I would protect you until my death. I am not yet dead.”
“But I cannot pay you.”
“I will serve you until life leaves me, my lady, regardless of coin.”
She reaches for his arm. “Thank you. Also, you may call me Ilvara, as I am no longer a countess.”
“If it pleases you, I’d like to continue addressing you respectfully. I never did so because of your social position.”
“And I’d like to accompany you to Tarreth,” Asher cuts in. “There is nothing for me here.” He eyes the body in Caius’ arms.
Of Embers Page 4