“An honorable goal for a dutiful child. And where is your brother, my lady? While we are greatly honored by your visit, it is… unusual, no, for the blessed sex to serve as delegates to the empire?”
“My brother, Palin, is… detained on other matters but sends his respect and love, my lord. I am a poor substitute for him, I know, but we all serve as we must.”
“Not at all, my lady of Wolfrey. You are most welcome.”
Her smile, Owen thought, would have melted the coldest demeanor. Once again, he noted how beautiful she was, how charming she could be.
“I am told, my lady,” said Kory’ander Dey, “that there were some… difficulties in Docktown, a problem with thieves and perhaps an overzealous servant?” For the first time, his dark eyes fell upon Owen.
When she answered, her voice was laced with regret and sorrow, almost pleading. “I am ashamed to admit, I have betrayed your trust, great Moon Lord. My bodyguard—an otherwise sensible young man—acted dishonorably, shaming me. His heart is vast, but his head doesn’t always keep pace. In his naive effort to avoid seeing harm to a thief woman—a child, really—he interfered in the just execution of your laws, hurting one of your officers. I accept responsibility for his actions and most humbly beg your forgiveness.”
Kory’ander Dey waved his palm toward Lady Danika. “Please. Speak no more of this…error in judgment. Soldiers are often injured. It’s the nature of their profession. Still, a good bodyguard is like a fine hound. As fond as we may become of them, too much lenience, and they might snap and bite.”
“I promise, my lord,” said Lady Danika. “My man shall be punished severely.”
“Then we shall speak no more of this, our most beautiful flower of a northern kingdom.”
Owen let out a huge breath as the tension fled from his body.
Lady Danika lowered her head again. “You are as gracious as the stories say about you, my lord. I thank you.”
When Kory’ander Dey’s gaze drifted to Fioni and Vory, the smile on his face appeared strained. “Please, I see that you have brought…friends.”
“My lord, allow me to introduce Fioni Ice-Bound, the daughter of the great Fenyir warlord Taios Oak-Heart.”
At the mention of Fioni’s name, a collective gasp ran through the servants in the throne room, while the guards eyed each other with uncertainty. Fioni, completely ignoring the consternation, stepped forward.
Kory’ander Dey’s expression was grim, but he met Fioni’s eye. “We are…well accustomed to your name, Red Wolf. Although I must admit, in any other circumstance, I would have you arrested and punished for your crimes against my people—however, in homage to the Lady Danika Dain, I welcome you into my home. You will come to no harm while in my city. This I promise you.”
“And I thank you for your offer, Moon Lord,” Fioni said, her face stone.
“Well, then,” said Kory’ander Dey, “the introductions over with, why, pray tell, are we blessed with your company, my lady of Wolfrey?”
“As I mentioned earlier, my father’s vision.”
The young lord slightly inclined his head. “Yes, you did mention this. What is this vision?”
“Like you, we lose much shipping along the trade route between your city and Port Ollechta in the Kingdom of Conarck, taken by… well, by raiders much like Fioni Ice-Bound.”
“Not just like Fioni,” said Kory’ander Dey bitterly. “All Hishtari captains fear the Red Wolf.”
Fioni shrugged.
Lady Danika continued. “My father believed a compromise could be reached with the Fenyir.”
“A compromise? What compromise?” asked Kory’ander Dey. “The Fenyir comprise more than a dozen disparate clans all along the islands. Agreement with all of them would be impossible.”
“Not exactly,” said Fioni. “While there are many clans, most of the raiding is done by the largest clans, of which mine, the Waveborn, holds much sway. A deal can be arranged—although I will admit no deal will stop all raiding.”
“But a deal with the largest clans,” said Lady Danika, “will cut down losses considerably. By offering the largest of the clans a small annual tithe—”
“Then we will not lose so many ships entirely,” said Kory’ander Dey, his voice filled with possibilities. “And profits will rise.”
“And profits will rise, my lord,” said Lady Danika. “Considerably.”
Dey whispered to one of his aides, who then rushed off to bring a seat for Fioni beside Lady Danika. Servants then brought the two women small wine glasses filled with wine so dark, it looked like blood.
Kory’ander Dey leaned forward on his throne. “What will it cost us to… secure safe passage across the Promiscuous Sea?”
“Safer passage,” said Fioni. “There’s no such thing as safe passage.”
“Indeed,” said Kory’ander Dey. “Safer passage, then.”
“A small annual tithe paid to Yarl Taios Oak-Heart,” said Lady Danika. “No more than one thousand talents of silver each spring.”
Kory’ander Dey shook his head. “This is far too much. It would negate too much shipping profit.”
“But it is a beginning,” said Lady Danika. “From beginnings, all things are possible.”
Kory’ander Dey watched her silently with his dark eyes for several long moments before subtly inclining his head. “Yes, my lady of Wolfrey, all things are possible. We can certainly continue to discuss this amount.”
“However…” said Fioni.
Kory’ander Dey’s eyes tightened.
“The Waveborn are a proud clan,” said Lady Danika. “Prickly, one might say.”
Fioni snorted. “One might.”
“They place great stock in superstitions and heirlooms,” continued Lady Danika. “Even if such items don’t carry much real value, to the Fenyir they are… priceless.”
Kory’ander Dey tilted his head to the side and frowned. “I feel we’re finally coming to the point. What are you really asking me for?”
Lady Danika shrugged. “A sign, my lord, of your good faith. Proof that the past can stay in the past and that you are a man willing to invest in a bright future.”
“The shield,” he said, running his fingers over his face and sighing. “It’s that damned stupid shield again, isn’t it?”
Fioni tensed, her nostrils flaring. “It’s not just a shield to us. It’s important to my people. I understand that you had nothing to do with the killing of my great-grandfather Serl Raven-Eye, but we must have his shield back.”
“Or?” Kory’ander Dey asked.
“Or there will be no bargain. We will continue to raid every single one of your cargo ships that we can catch—and we can catch a great many of them. Give us back the shield.”
Lady Danika raised her hand to cut off Fioni, who glared at her but looked away, her face red. “My lord, we are all friends here. Appearances matter to the Waveborn, and it is our understanding that you display this shield here, in this very room as a trophy.” At that, Lady Danika glanced about her.
Owen saw no shield.
Kory’ander Dey rested his hand against his face, his elbow on his knee, and watched her, his face pale, as if he were greatly tired. “My lady, surely we can make a better bargain than some rotted old round shield.”
Lady Danika shook her head. “I’m afraid the return of the shield is necessary, my lord. I certainly don’t understand why, but it matters to the Waveborn. They are prepared to sweeten the deal, so to speak. They have silver to pay you.”
Kory’ander Dey, looking miserable, waved his hand. “This is not possible, not right now. Perhaps in a year?”
“No! We need the shield now,” insisted Fioni. “Keeping it as a trophy is an insult to my clan.”
Kory’ander Dey raised his thin eyebrows and smirked. “Oh, I know this well, Fioni Ice-Bound. Your father and his father before him have been trying to steal it back again all my life. I’ve never understood your Fenyir infatuation with it. Believe me, if it were up t
o me, I’d sell you the shield for a glass of wine.”
Lady Danika leaned forward. “I don’t—”
The young lord’s head jerked up as the rear doors of the throne room spilled open. All eyes turned to stare as a party of men bearing a covered purple palanquin entered. A noticeable current of fear coursed through those within the throne room, even the guards. The courtiers and officials whispered to one another, their eyes wide with fear. Owen felt a chill running down his spine.
The men bearing the palanquin gently lowered it to the floor. Kory’ander Dey—his face pale—half rose from his throne, his attention focused solely upon the palanquin, as if his guests were no longer there. An old gray-haired woman with dark, hate-filled eyes led a young boy by the hand into the throne room, stopping him beside the litter. The boy, no more than twelve, had ice-white hair running down to the small of his back. White cataracts covered both his eyes. The guards moved away from the boy, as if he were poison. One even stumbled and fell, dropping his pole-arm to clatter on the marbled floor near Vory. The guard, leaving his weapon where it lay, scurried back.
They act as if this strange boy were Old Grim himself.
What’s happening here?
“Most-honored ancestor,” said Kory’ander Dey, still standing, his face pale. “Is…is something wrong?”
Owen didn’t miss the fact that Kory’ander Dey addressed his question to the occupant of the palanquin.
Lady Danika rose, looking from the boy to the palanquin to Kory’ander Dey. “My lord, what is—”
When the boy spoke, his voice was all wrong—far too old sounding and filled with arrogance, malice, and contempt. “Tell the dark-haired woman to come closer, so I can see her face,” the boy said.
Lady Danika stared at Kory’ander Dey, her mouth open. “I…I don’t…what is going on, my lord?”
“Please, my lady of Wolfrey,” said Kory’ander Dey, gesturing toward the palanquin, his fingers trembling.
She hesitated for a moment but then approached the boy.
“Not him—me,” the boy said.
When she hesitated, a curtain on the palanquin moved, and a withered, liver-spotted hand more like a claw beckoned her closer.
“Please, my lady,” pleaded Kory’ander Dey. “Don’t make him wait.”
Lady Danika stared at the hand beckoning her. She edged closer and then leaned in toward the occupant of the palanquin. Her back stiffened in surprise at what she saw.
The boy laughed, a sound devoid of any true humor. “It is you,” he said, still staring straight ahead with his white eyes. “At first I didn’t believe it, so long has it been since last she and I spoke.”
Lady Danika spun about, staring at the boy. “I don’t—”
“In my dream, I saw your face so clearly, so perfectly, that I knew it had to be one of her Sendings.” The boy laughed again, and this time the palanquin shook.
Kory’ander Dey came closer, now standing upon the steps to the dais, his hand upon the hilt of a jeweled dagger sheathed on his belt. “Honored ancestor…I…what is wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” said the boy. “For the first time in half a century, all is right in the world again.”
Owen glanced at Fioni, saw the same concern in her eyes that he felt. Vory edged closer to the fallen pole-arm.
The strange white-haired, blind boy lifted a thin arm and pointed it at Lady Danika. “Seize the kingdom whore. Kill the others!”
Chapter 27
Owen
For a single long moment, a perfect silence overcame everyone within the throne room. Owen stared at the young boy with the white hair and white eyes. For a single moment, he wondered if he had heard him correctly. When he saw the guards tense, he knew he had.
Owen acted.
He charged the closest guard, who hesitated, waiting too long before trying to bring his unwieldy pole-arm around. Before he could, Owen was already inside his attack range, thrusting his palm into the man’s nose, drawing power from his hips as he struck. The guard fell back, his nose a shattered mess. Owen spun, seeking the next foe.
Nearby, an angry bestial roar erupted as Vory, swinging the pole-arm the guard had dropped earlier, attacked the closest guards, scattering them. In the hands of the massive Fenyir raider, the weapon shattered bones and tore through flesh.
Fioni leaped atop the guard commander whose wrist Owen had broken. Wrapping her legs around his neck, she brought him crashing down onto the marble floor, the back of his helmet ringing with a crack. She gripped the hilt of the officer’s curved sword and drew it from his scabbard, rising into a middle-guard stance just as another guard came at her. The guard swung an overhead blow at her with his pole-arm, but she darted forward before he could strike, cutting his neck open with her thrust before spinning away again. She was good, Owen realized—perhaps even better than he was.
Now, the remainder of the guards stood frozen, casting glances at one another, none wishing to rush in where their comrades had already fallen. The marble floor of the throne room was slippery with blood, and Vory continued to bellow in rage and swing his giant weapon about in wide, flowing arcs. The guards stumbled back, the eyes behind their fierce animal masks reflecting their fear. They’re not used to people fighting back, Owen realized with sudden clarity.
That won’t last.
Kory’ander Dey grabbed Lady Danika’s arm, pulling her toward him. Before Owen could move to help, she had already drawn the oilskin-wrapped Sight-Bringer from behind her back and smashed it against Kory’ander Dey’s forearm. He screamed and let go of her, clutching at his forearm.
“Kill them!” Kory’ander Dey yelled in terror.
A knot of a half-dozen guards formed and edged forward, the spear end of their pole-arms held before them. Vory charged into them, smashing their weapons out of his way with one blow while sending two sprawling and bleeding to the floor with the reverse strike. The others scurried back again, their eyes filled with terror. Another guard rushed Owen with his pole-arm, thrusting at him with the spearhead. Owen pivoted into the man, turning inside his weapon before he could strike and smashing his elbow into his jaw, sending him flying. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another guard coming at him. Before he could turn and face the new threat, Fioni intercepted him from behind, cutting his leg off just below the knee. The guard fell screaming, trying to staunch the blood that sprayed wildly. From within the palace, a gong began to sound, calling in reinforcements. The litter bearers had already picked up the palanquin and were quickly rushing away with it, further impeding the newly arriving guards.
“Owen!” Lady Danika yelled.
He spun to see the functionary, Yuri, dragging her away from the fighting. She ripped her arm free of Yuri’s grip just long enough to throw Sight-Bringer through the air to Owen. As he caught the weapon, its blade still wrapped in oilskin, he felt the familiar rush of power flow into his muscles.
“Owen, get away from here,” Lady Danika yelled as Yuri pulled her behind a knot of newly arriving guards. “Find the heart. Kill her!”
Ripping the oilskin free of the weapon’s jagged blade, he faced off against the guards between him and Lady Danika, knowing he could never get to her.
Fioni grabbed Owen’s shoulder and pulled him toward her. Blood dripped down her chin. “Time to run before the storm, Owen.”
He resisted, yanking his shoulder free, but more guards had arrived, at least two dozen. They tried to form a circle around the three warriors, but Vory kept them at bay with his powerful swings. Lady Danika was gone, taken. His heart sunk.
We can’t fight this many.
His gaze spun about the throne room.
The guards, still held back by Vory’s powerful swings, were between them and the entrance, but he caught a quick flash of fabric as the last of the servants fled into what looked like a servants’ corridor in a corner of the throne room behind them.
“There!” he yelled as he grabbed Fioni’s forearm, pulling her along with him as he
moved toward the passage.
“Vory, with us!” yelled Fioni.
The passage was narrow, filled with the aroma of cooking. A servant’s tunnel, it must lead to a kitchen or food preparation area.
Fioni pulled to a stop and stared at Vory, who still battled the guards. “Vory!” she screamed. “Now, damn your fat ass!”
Owen could see the large man was tiring, his chest rising and falling. Vory risked one quick glance over his shoulder, meeting Owen’s eye before turning back to charge into the guards again. But in that one brief moment, Vory’s expression had told Owen all he needed to know—Vory wasn’t coming.
Fioni tensed to run to Vory’s aid, but Owen yanked her back into the passageway. “You can’t help him.”
“Vory!” Fioni’s voice was filled with anguish.
“He’s made his decision,” urged Owen, dragging her farther back into the narrow corridor. “Honor it.”
She turned and glared at him, her eyes flashing with rage. For a moment, he was certain she’d attack him, but the moment passed and the rage vanished, replaced by sorrow. “Lead,” she said through clenched teeth.
They ran down the twisting passageway, taking turns at random, the sounds of fighting growing fainter with each step. They passed a number of storage rooms, some filled with frightened servants who screamed and tried to hide. At an intersecting passageway, they came upon an old servant, who fell to his knees, covering his head with his thin arms. Owen grabbed the man by the hair and forced him to meet his eye. “Which way is out?”
The man stared at them in confusion.
Fioni yelled a single word at him in Hishtari, and the old man pointed down one corridor. They left him there and bolted down the passage he had indicated. Now, they heard the sounds of angry yelling behind them.
Vory must have finally fallen.
The passageway came upon an open doorway leading to a round chamber with a spiraling set of stairs leading up—one of the palace towers. The wooden door leading into the stairwell was reinforced with iron bars and rungs for a crossbar to bolt it, but he saw no bar.
The Vampire Queen Saga: Books 1-3: (The Vampire Queen Saga Boxset) Page 45