"I am not yet judged, and until then I still command the full power of a Cotti prince. Bring me my niece!" Armin winced and rubbed his jaw, frowning. He seemed to have trouble speaking, and she noticed that his movements were jerky at times.
She glanced at the judges as the eldest stated, "He is right, you must obey him, Regent. He is not yet condemned. Only the King can do that."
Chiana raised her chin, her heart thudding with anger. The last thing she wanted was to delay his departure for a moment longer, when every fibre of her being cried out to call a healer for her husband's pain. "Very well. But once you have seen her, you will leave."
Armin inclined his head and smirked. "With pleasure."
She clapped her hands, and a servant trotted out to summon the Queen's entourage.
Chiana turned to the Cotti. "The soldiers will leave."
Armin nodded, gesturing to his men, who marched out. He seemed to be too easy with the situation, too smug for one who had just been accused of a crime he had not committed, and his protestations of innocence had been too quickly curtailed. Chiana glanced at Blade, longing to embrace him and summon a healer to care for his injuries, but protocol constrained her.
The assassin watched the Prince with deep suspicion, the slight wheeze of his breathing the only sound. Now that he had lifted his head she was able to see his face, and pain stabbed her heart. One side of his jaw was swollen and blue, and dried blood crusted his nostrils. He swayed on the leg that supported him, and she wondered why he did not seek a healer now that he was able. His eyes never left the Prince, and the rage that burnt in their depths far exceeded any she had seen there before.
The door at the back of the room opened to admit the Queen's attendants, three maidens clad in silk and lace, the tallest bearing the infant Queen. Kerra-Manu gurgled, waving chubby arms as the girl bore her towards her uncle. Armin straightened when he spied the satin bundle, a smile twisting his lips. The maidens stopped before him, and Armin stepped closer to gaze down at his niece.
"She has Kerrion's hair," he murmured. "How small and fragile she is. A mere scrap of life."
Blade tugged at the officers who supported him, muttering, "Get me closer."
Chiana did not appear to notice the assassin's slow approach, her gaze fixed upon Armin. Blade gritted his teeth, pain shooting through him with every movement. The officers helped him to within a few feet of the Prince, then stopped. The tableau seemed frozen in time as the Cotti prince leant over the gurgling infant. Chiana watched him, as indeed, everyone in the room did. The moment was tense, but no one was more aware of it than Blade, who was as tight as a coiled spring as he waited for the movement he was certain would come.
Armin's hand dropped to his belt, and Blade spied the glint of metal as he lifted it. The assassin launched himself at the Prince, taking the officers by surprise as he leapt from their support. His good leg provided the strength to throw himself at Armin, but his broken leg buckled and he hissed as he crashed into the Prince, thrusting the maiden who held the Queen aside.
Armin's jewelled dagger, scything upwards to impale the Queen, struck Blade in the chest. Chiana gasped as the assassin gave a coughing grunt and fell, almost dragging Armin down with him. He did not have the strength to hold onto the Prince, and Armin twisted free.
Blade hit the floor hard and sprawled. Armin swung away, his eyes wild as he sought a way to escape while the rest of the people in the room stood frozen with shock. Blade raised his head and tried to focus on Armin, his vision blurred. Pulling a second dagger from his belt, Armin sprang at the Regent. One arm whipped around her neck while his other hand held the dagger to her breast.
"Stay back!" he bellowed. "Or she dies!"
The guards froze in the act of leaping forward, and Redgard frowned at the Prince. "Harm the Regent, and you will be executed right here in Jondar."
The Prince gave a wild cackle. "What difference does that make to me now? If I am to die for something I did not do, then I will take her with me. Imagine the chaos that will follow! A kingdom without a Regent, ruled by an infant Queen whose father is the Cotti King. Civil war will tear your land apart."
"You cannot do this, My Prince!" a judge cried.
"Be silent, fool!" Armin snarled. "If you had not believed their lies, I would not be in this situation." He tightened his hold on Chiana. "You lied! Admit it! Tell them I did not hire that damned assassin or you die!"
"You just tried to murder the Queen," she gritted.
"'Twas the maiden I struck at. The Queen was to have been my hostage, not you. I demand justice! I demand the truth!"
Blade rolled onto his side, blood bubbling around the dagger in his chest. His vision dimmed, and bright spots danced in his eyes, yet he levered himself onto one elbow. With a great effort, he reached up and pulled the dagger out with his right hand, hissing through clenched teeth.
Raising his head again, he focussed on Armin. Chiana shielded his torso, leaving only his head as a target. Armin, intent on Chiana, was unaware of his danger. Blade raised the dagger in a trembling hand. His strength ebbed and time ran out as his life leaked away with the blood that bubbled from his wound. Gripping the jewelled weapon's blade, he flicked it at the Cotti Prince and slumped onto his back.
Armin stiffened as the dagger struck him in the eye. His weapon cut a thin red line across Chiana's throat as he fell backwards with a crash of armour on stone. Chiana tottered when he released her, and Redgard rushed to her side. Without a glance at the dead Prince, Chiana ran to the assassin and fell to her knees.
Blade's eyes were closed, and he breathed in shallow, rapid gasps, blood staining his lips. Chiana gave a cry of anguish and clamped her hands over the wound to try to stem the blood. Blade opened his eyes and gazed at her blankly for a moment, then they filled with concern.
"You are bleeding..." he whispered.
"It is nothing, a scratch."
He swallowed, his eyes roving over her face. "Chiana..."
Chiana tried to plug his wound with trembling hands, becoming frantic when her efforts failed and the blood ran across his skin in warm crimson lines. Behind her, confused shouts arose as Redgard bellowed for a healer and soldiers sprinted to summon one, clattering from the room.
Chiana's voice cracked with anguish. "Please... do not die."
A faint, sweet smile twisted his lips. "Sorry, little dove."
She sobbed, and tears ran down her cheeks. "No! Do not leave me, Blade."
The assassin coughed blood. "Forget me."
"No. Never."
Blade's hand crept up to take hers in a gentle clasp, and she gave a choked cry at the sight of his blackened, mutilated fingers. Bowing her head, she kissed his broken hand, unable to imagine the pain that this simple gesture caused him, her tears salting his skin with her sorrow. Raising her eyes to his face, she sobbed as fresh pain lanced through her heart. Tears welled from his eyes and ran into his hair.
"Blade..." Her throat closed, choking off her words. Yet nothing she could think of to say seemed relevant at that moment. All she wanted to do was cry his name over and over again as if that would hold him here. His breathing grew more laboured, a painful wheeze as he struggled to draw air into lungs that were filling with blood. He swallowed again, blinking, and mouthed silent words, then grimaced.
Chiana wiped the blood from his lips as his eyes closed. With a cry of utter desolation, she slid an arm around his neck and pulled him into her arms. She held him to her, his cheek pressed to the soft velvet of her gown, the blood that oozed from his lips staining it with vivid scarlet. Blade relaxed, the last of the tension ebbing from him, and Chiana wept without restraint.
Redgard knelt beside her, scowling at the assassin. "I have summoned a healer, Regent."
Chiana shook her head. "It is too late... call the High Priestess." Her voice strengthened. "He is a sacred Knight of the Veil; he must be attended by the High Priestess!"
"Regent..."
"Are you blind, Captain? Call
her at once!"
Redgard bellowed the order at his men, then laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "The Queen is unharmed."
"Good. Leave me be." She drew back to gaze down at Blade's still, pale face, the lines of suffering smoothed from it at last. Redgard rose and moved away, giving her privacy for her remaining moments with her unconscious husband.
"You saved her too, my love," she whispered. Her tears dripped onto his skin, mingling with his. "My beautiful, valiant husband. You did not deserve the scorn that was heaped upon your head." Chiana sobbed and gulped. "I love you, Conash."
Blade's soft gasps were almost inaudible, yet a thread of life still held him. Verdan ran in, summoned despite Chiana's order. He hurried to the assassin's side and sank to one knee, but a glance at his patient made him pale and recoil, meeting Redgard's eyes. The old healer shook his head and stood up, gazing down at the Regent who cradled her dying husband in her arms.
"I cannot help him."
Redgard stared at him, horrified. "Is there nothing...?"
Verdan shook his head. "Not this time. Even Lord Conash cannot survive a wound like that."
Redgard turned away, clearly unable to bear the sight of his Regent's sorrow, or perhaps his lord's demise. Chiana pulled Blade closer and bent to kiss his brow, then rested her cheek against his as she whispered soft words of love, begging him to live even when she knew he would not.
A commotion at the back of the throne room signalled the arrival of the High Priestess. The slap of sandaled feet hastened closer until they stopped beside Chiana. She looked up at the granite-faced priestess, uncaring of the tears that ran down her cheeks.
A flicker of remorse crossed the old woman's features. She knelt beside Blade and held out her hands for the grey vestment worn in the ritual of death. One of her maidens handed it to her, and she draped the gold-edged cloth around her neck. The rustle of her robes was the only sound in the vast room until she spoke into the hush.
"I hereby commend this man's soul into the loving arms of Tinsharon, our great lord. Let him find peace in the Everlasting. Let Tinsharon embrace him in his infinite forgiveness, as he passes from this life to the next. I absolve him of all wrongdoing. May God hear my words." She took a golden cup from a priestess and dipped her fingers into it, anointing Blade's brow with holy water in the sacred sign of Tinsharon. "Go in peace, Sir Conash."
The High Priestess rose and gestured to her priestesses, who joined her next to the wall. They would wait for the assassin to die, then begin the chants of death while he was shrouded. Redgard, apparently desperate for something to do, ordered his men to remove the Cotti judges who stood in the centre of the room. They herded the judges out and dragged Armin's body in their wake, leaving Redgard to wait by the door with two guards. Verdan lingered, gazing at the Regent and the assassin she held so tenderly to her breast, his blood staining her rich dress. Behind the throne, the three maidens huddled around the swaddled bundle of the Queen. Strangely, the earlier ruckus did not appear to have bothered Kerra, though she seemed a little subdued.
Chiana murmured to Blade in a choked voice, telling him of her love while there was still a chance he might hear her. His hold on life was slipping away, his breaths quickening in the final struggle as he slid towards the dark abyss of death.
The great double doors at the far end of the throne room flew open with a bang, almost unhinged by the force of the blow that propelled them. Two guards stumbled in ahead of a white-bearded man who strode past them without pause, his eyes sweeping the room before coming to rest on the kneeling Regent. A grey wolf followed him, and a hawk swooped through the doors after him, alighting on the throne with a piercing cry. Redgard turned to gape at him, and the soldiers inside the doors belatedly bowed. The clutch of priestesses fell to their knees. Chiana looked up, tears blurring her vision. The old man came to Blade's side and knelt, his eyes raking the assassin's pale countenance.
Chiana gasped. "Shamsara!"
The Idol of the Beasts frowned with deep concern. "This is wrong. He cannot die. He must not."
"What do you mean?"
Shamsara closed his eyes, grimacing as if in pain. "Blood. I see nothing but blood in the future if he dies. He is the instrument, and his course is not yet run. His destiny is not fulfilled."
"Can you save him?"
He hesitated, his frown knotting his seamed features. "Yes, he must be saved, or Jashimari is doomed." His hands fluttered above the assassin. "But there is too little time. I have no other choice." He glanced up at the ceiling and made the sign of Tinsharon, muttering, "Forgive me."
Shamsara drew a knife from his robes and pricked one of the fingers of his left hand, then leant forward to press it to Blade's wound, bowing his head. The contact lasted just long enough for his blood to mingle with Blade's, then he sat back. Chiana gazed at her husband, expecting to witness a miraculous recovery, but the assassin appeared unchanged. He still struggled to breathe, his visage ashen, a cold sweat beading his brow. Shamsara bowed his head again, and when he raised it, his expression had cleared, a look of relief brightening his eyes.
"He will not die. The blood is gone, the future safe."
Joy filled Chiana, and fresh tears coursed down her cheeks.
Shamsara placed a hand on her shoulder. "Weep not, child. All is now well."
Chiana cradled Blade, wiping the blood from his face with trembling fingers. "What have you done?"
"The right thing, I pray."
Shamsara stood, and Verdan came forward to stare down at the assassin with confused, disbelieving eyes. "His wound is mortal."
The Idol shook his head. "He will live. Do your best for him. He will be ill for a very long time. The wound is grave indeed, and should have killed him. Fortunately I arrived in time to save him."
"Thank God," Chiana whispered.
"Indeed."
She gazed at him, puzzled by his unhappy tone. "What is wrong?"
Shamsara sighed. "In order to save him, I have given him many years of my life. I doubt that he will thank me for it. Best that you do not tell him, I think. I fear his reaction will be adverse."
"How did you get here in time?"
"I saw the future change many days ago. I made all speed here to avert it."
She stroked Blade's cheek. "Thank you."
Chapter Seventeen
Shamsara returned to his cave the following day, refusing Chiana's offer of hospitality with a sad smile. For a tenday Verdan held vigil at the assassin's bedside, on hand to tend to his slightest need. He kept Blade drugged, not allowing him to awaken fully until the pain of his injuries was less intense. In this state, the healer's apprentices were able to change Blade's dressings and feed him nourishing broth to speed his recovery. Chiana visited him every day, but Blade was too drugged to notice her presence, rousing only sufficiently to swallow what was spooned into his mouth. At the end of the tenday, Verdan reduced the drug's dosage and allowed Blade to slowly regain full consciousness, thereby lessening the shock of his first awakening.
Two days later, Blade woke. His first action was to try to strangle the young apprentice who was feeding him soup, but he was too weak. The uproar brought Chiana at an unladylike run, and she arrived to find Blade in the act of hurling the bowl of dortil soup at the terrified youth. The apprentice ducked, and hot soup splattered the room in a brown rain as the bowl bounced off his shoulder.
Chiana recoiled, wiping it from her cheeks. She surveyed her husband with a strange mixture of elation and annoyance. The apprentice fled, leaving her to deal with the irate assassin. Blade lay twisted on the bed, propped up on one elbow, his right hand dangling from throwing the bowl. He glared at Chiana with eyes as frigid as a midwinter storm, hatred flaring in their depths.
"What have you done, woman?" he growled.
"I have done nothing, and this outburst is -"
"I was dying!"
"Apparently you were not," she said, lifting her chin.
"Do not lie to me." He pushe
d back the covers and tried to lever himself from the bed, but his splinted leg held him back and he groaned as his broken ribs grated together. Chiana hastened to him and pushed him back, then regretted straying within his reach when he grabbed the front of her gown and yanked her closer.
"Tell me the truth."
She tried to pry his fingers from the lace of her bodice. "I do not know what you mean."
"You do!" He attempted to shake her, but lacked the strength to do it with any force. "What happened?"
"Let me go."
Blade thrust her away and sank back onto the mound of pillows, a fit of coughing gripping him. When it subsided, blood flecked his lips, and she braved his proximity to wipe it away with a damp cloth. This time he merely watched her with venomous eyes.
"Why am I still alive?"
She shrugged. "You survived, that is all."
"You are lying. Shall I tell you how I know?" He paused, watching her wring the cloth. "Apart from the fact that you look as guilty as sin, that is. I have killed more men than I care to remember, and watched most of them die. I know what is a fatal wound. I learnt well how to inflict them." He glanced down at his bandaged chest. "I was stabbed in the lung, an effective, if slow method, but always fatal. So why am I alive?"
"You survived when you were shot with a crossbow, also in the lung."
"I almost died from that, but that was a bolt, a round piece of metal no thicker than your smallest finger. It is possible to survive that, but not a dagger thrust directly into the chest. You know I am right, so tell me what happened."
She sighed, knowing that he would not be content until he knew. "If I tell you, will you rest?"
He shrugged, wincing. "Doubtless you will have Verdan feed me drugs to ensure that I do."
"It would seem prudent, considering your state of mind."
He cocked his head, clearly annoyed by this. "What state of mind? Are you implying that I am mad, perhaps?"
"No, of course not, only angry to the point of doing yourself an injury."
The Queen's Blade III - Invisible Assassin Page 26