The Swithin Chronicles 3: The Comet Cometh

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  Markis nodded. “In the meantime, I think we should prepare your funeral.” Ryanac raised an enquiring eye. “I don’t want anyone outside of this room to know you’re alive.” That dark gaze stared at him. He didn’t have to use the comet to know what Ryanac was thinking. The news would break Ditta’s heart. He couldn’t help that. Ryanac’s mother would understand and forgive them, and if they survived this, he’d willingly withstand anything, even Ditta’s wrath.

  * * * * *

  “Any luck?”

  Markis shook his head. “I can’t do it.”

  “Maybe you’re trying too hard,” Ryanac suggested.

  “Hardly.”

  To Markis, it felt as though they had wasted most of yesterday. All morning, council had taken up his time, and then he had healed Ryanac. Most of the night, they had talked. They had patrols and scouts out there, but so far, they’d discovered nothing. Ryanac was the best tracker they had, but Markis couldn’t let him go out there. Besides, right now Ryanac couldn’t track his own footprints, and Markis had told him so. The man had only managed to stand unaided in the last hour. Colour had started to seep back into his face, but occasional shivers wracked him. Markis wanted to be part of the search, but whoever sent a message would send it here. Markis had to stay where needed, and he required privacy to try to find Uly with a different method. He’d already made one attempt to find Uly by using the comet. That too had failed.

  “I didn’t want to leave him,” Ryanac explained. “I knew you were the only one who might be able to save me. Alive, I could fight. I was too weak to stay, and I couldn’t help him by dying.”

  “I know that. Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

  “You need sleep,” Ryanac told him, obviously preferring not to answer.

  Markis shook his head slowly.

  “Yes. Lie down with me. Sleep with me. Just a couple of hours and then try again.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Me neither, but we should rest.”

  Even as he briefly closed his eyes, Markis became aware he could sleep. He would sleep. His body would have its way with him. He relented. He barely managed to walk over to the bed and fall onto it. Ryanac was a comforting line at his back.

  “I nearly lost you,” Markis whispered, fighting slumber. “I can’t lose Uly. We can’t touch peace only to lose it so quickly.”

  An arm slipped around him, pulling him into his guard’s embrace. “I can’t lose him either,” Ryanac said.

  * * * * *

  “We’ve found him.”

  Markis heart sped up in his chest, and then he realised they meant Kilan.

  His youngest brother sat slumped in a chair. Meira already attended to him. He flinched as she touched him, but he clearly thought better of refusing. His left eye was swollen shut, and his face didn’t look much better beneath it.

  “He has a broken cheekbone,” Meira pronounced.

  “What happened?” Markis demanded. Kilan looked up at him with his one good eye.

  “Someone hit me,” he snarled. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “What’s obvious is that Ryanac and Uly saw you just before they were attacked.”

  “As I saw them. Then everything went black. I didn’t have time to react.” Kilan meant he’d had no time to draw on the comet or reach for a sword, but only Markis and Ryanac knew that. No one but they knew how far Kilan had advanced with control of the comet. “The next thing I know, I woke up halfway down the river, my coat snagged on something, and I had to shout for help for ages until someone pulled me out.”

  His speech emerged oddly formed. No one noticed how many muscles there were in the face until you had to move them when they were damaged. What Kilan said confirmed the reports, but innocent or guilty right now, Markis didn’t care. “I don’t have time to find out if you’re telling the truth. I have to trust you. If you’re innocent and I sound accusing, I’m sorry, and ask you to forgive me. If…” He bent over until they were eye to eye. “If I ever find you had something to do with this, I will dig out your eyes, pull out your tongue, and personally feed them to you.”

  That one bloodshot eye stared back at him. “Fair enough,” Kilan finally said. A hint of anger crept into his voice. “Bearing in mind I had nothing to do with it, I forgive you that threat.” The anger eased. “I’d feel the same way.”

  “Would you carry out the threat, though?”

  At the sound of Ryanac’s voice, the young prince spun in his seat, and then jumped to his feet. “They’re saying you’re dead!” He winced even as he spoke.

  “Let them say so,” Ryanac said. “Answer my question.”

  Kilan glanced at Markis. “I’m not sure I’d stop at the eyes and the tongue.”

  Ryanac’s laugh bounded around the room. “I’ve decided I like him,” he said.

  “If you’ve finished bonding” ‑‑ Markis reached a hand out to his brother ‑‑ “I need your help.”

  Meira looked up in alarm. “He needs treatment.”

  “It can wait.”

  “I can give him something for the pain.”

  “No!” Markis glanced at the women, then at his brother. Kilan tried to frown, then winced again. The hand in Markis’s grip tightened in reflex. Even that small gesture had to hurt. “I need your help,” Markis said. “I need your strength.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The air in the pool area was humid. Uly licked his lips, taking the moisture from his skin. He drank down a few droplets, but it only seemed to fuel his thirst. He looked at the blue, green, and white mosaics as he turned his head, reflecting on how beautiful and delicate the patterns were. It must have taken a long time for artisans to line the floor and the walls with the decorations.

  A splash of water drew his attention. The movement of water sent shimmering waves of light dancing up the walls and over the ceiling. “Markis?”

  “Come into the water, Uly. It feels wonderful.”

  Those dark brown eyes stared up at him. Where Markis’s hair touched the water, it fanned out behind him, carried on the surface. He could see though the clear water. Water distorted the image, but Uly had no trouble making out the line of that glorious body. He slipped down into the water, grinning. Markis moved back to receive him. Uly waited for his hair to touch the water. He imagined it floating outwards, dark and pale tendrils entangling, even as he wrapped his body around Markis. The water entered his mouth, and he drank it down. Why was he drinking the pool water? Even as he had the thought, the water caressed the back of his neck, but not his hair. He reached up and touched the back of his head. His hair was shorter now than it had ever been, severed. He cried out.

  “Looking for this?” Markis held up the braid in front of him. Uly screamed. The sound tore through his throat, and he winced with the pain of it.

  HOLD ON, ULY.

  Markis?

  Opening his eyes, the room swam into Uly’s focus. Dark panelled walls, dark beams, and no natural light all conspired to make Uly feel as though someone had buried him before checking to see if he had died. He ran a tongue along his lower lip and wished he hadn’t. He’d not had a drink since he and Ryanac started out yesterday morning. He had once lived with hunger and even thirst, but he had never gone this long without a drink of some kind. Even his race had sense not to waste clean, fresh water. You learned to collect rainwater, drank from horse troughs, begged and stole it. He had stolen water rather than coin when he had needed it.

  His lips were sore. They were going to crack shortly. His throat was one long line of soreness inside and out, not least of all because of the thick leather collar that held his head upright. When he moved his head, he could hear a faint clank of a ring at the back, probably hammered into the wood of the post. He wanted to swallow and struggled not to. It wouldn’t help. It would only hurt.

  He didn’t know the men, didn’t know what they wanted. They had strapped him to a post. Even unconscious, he couldn’t fall. He had either slept or passed out.
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  Hurry, Markis. Find me.

  Markis would do everything he could, but so would Ryanac. The big man had promised him.

  * * * * *

  “Did you find him?”

  “Not the location, but I touched his mind. He’s alive and as well as he can be.”

  Combining his and Kilan’s power helped Markis focus. He was tired, though, and Kilan was in agony. He had finally let the young man have treatment. He wouldn’t be any good for another couple of hours yet. What Meira had given him for the pain would interfere with what Markis needed him to do. When Meira asked why he hadn’t helped Kilan to heal, Markis had told her the injury wasn’t unnatural. This was partly true. While the young prince had obtained it because someone had whacked him, the injury was simply that and far from life-threatening. Whether or not he could heal it was questionable. In truth, though, as it was no threat to Kilan’s life, he didn’t intend to try yet, if he did at all. What they did when adding Kilan’s power to his, and what he had done to speed up his young brother’s learning, was similar to sharing the abyss. Healing was another form of intimacy. He had learned that the time he healed Antal, and he had no desire to share it with Kilan at present. He trusted no one but Ryanac right at this minute.

  “I need to rest. Then I’ll try later.”

  “They’ll be in touch soon.” Ryanac was probably right.

  “They had better be.”

  “You said he was as well as he can be.”

  “He is.” Markis looked Ryanac in the eye. “He’s thirsty.” It sounded simple, but thirsty didn’t cover it, and Uly’s need for water would only grow.

  * * * * *

  “Not going to ask who I am and what I want?”

  Uly shook his head. The collar rubbed his neck as he did.

  The man chuckled, but it had none of the warmth of Ryanac’s laugh. The eyes were green, and they glittered. “Why not?”

  He didn’t want to talk to this man at all, but the answer was too direct. His lips pulled apart painfully as he opened his mouth. “I’m not the one you need to tell.” The words rasped out. The man laughed again, but made no mention of the raw sound. Uly didn’t know how long he could go without water. He couldn’t last as long as he could without food. He had gone past the hunger, glad no one had been in the room to hear his stomach growl. Somehow, he didn’t think they would have taken pity on him. More likely they would have found it amusing.

  “You’re right, of course.” The man looked across the room to someone at his back and nodded. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Whoever it was, he or she never spoke, and Uly couldn’t turn his head to see who it was.

  “While we wait, let me introduce you to Tihea.”

  The door was at his back, together with the unseen accomplice. A rustle of garments announced another stranger. Uly didn’t think he cared who it was, but the sight of the woman as she came into view couldn’t fail to capture his attention.

  She wore a long, tight-fitting gown. It had what he had come to learn, through tearing so many garments and annoying the palace seamstresses, were darts sewn at strategic places to make the garment fit to her curves. The outfit looked something like a cross between a dress and a robe now that he saw it more clearly, and the pattern was so bright that it caught the stray strands of sunlight that filtered through the roof.

  Uly had thought the room deep underground, nothing more than a box, but he had been mistaken. Sometimes he could hear people walking overhead, as though they walked on nothing but boards, but he hadn’t bothered trying to call out. This wasn’t some city street. Last night, he had heard rain, and it had dripped into the room, even onto his head. He had wished it would rain harder so he could tilt his head and drink it, but he feared what it would do to the room. Would a heavy downpour turn the floor to mud or crumble the walls? This room was only just below the surface. He didn’t entirely understand it though he had tried to. He would pay more attention later when he was alone again. In the meantime, the woman stood in front of him, her posture and gaze almost demure.

  The pattern of her clothing was black, white, green, and deep pink. A green sash tied the garment at her waist. Under that gown, she had an incredible figure. As to her face, she was beautiful. Her hairstyle consisted of hard, straight lines that one might have called severe, but the darkness of it set off a porcelain white face. The eyes were the same green colour as the sash, deeper in colour than the man’s were. The eyes were oval. As much as she looked like the man, she also seemed different.

  “This woman is of my race. We train our women to one purpose. Well…two. We do need to procreate.”

  Uly tried to swallow and couldn’t. Why bring her here? Uly didn’t want anything to do with her. Something made him twitch away when she drew near.

  “Don’t do that. We don’t wish to spoil the entertainment.”

  That was what he feared. The situation nagged at him. The only entertainment that would amuse this man would be something likely to upset someone else. Granted, Uly was upset enough, but he didn’t believe the man cared what he thought of him. Like Uly’s thirst, either it didn’t bother the stranger or it served his purpose.

  The woman undulated as she moved towards him. There was no other word for it. She knelt at his feet, her hands reaching up to unfasten his garments. He would have kicked her if he could.

  “How long until the portal?” In whatever way the reply came, it happened in silence. The man nodded and glanced at Tihea. “Prime him.”

  What the…?

  She licked her lips, not so much in seduction but to wet them. Her breasts stroked his thighs through the two layers of cloth ‑‑ her dress and his trousers ‑‑ and he could feel how full they were. Lifting his tunic, she nibbled at his stomach. He sucked in a breath and drew in his rib cage, but he had nowhere to go. Her hands lingered, trailing over his skin. Much to his dismay, he felt a response in obvious places. He longed for another’s caress, but her movements were gentle.

  Searching for a distraction, he heard a one-sided argument at his back and, as one person either couldn’t speak or didn’t want to, two sets of footsteps left the room. Uly took his chance. He glanced down at the woman.

  “Don’t do this,” he whispered. It hurt to speak, but he had to stop her.

  Her eyes lit up in question. “Why not?” She seemed genuinely puzzled.

  “I don’t want it.”

  “It will bring you pleasure.”

  Pleasure was the last thing on Uly’s mind and he doubted he’d feel any such thing in his current condition. The woman genuinely appeared to be unaware of even this simple logic. “That kind of pleasure I don’t want.”

  “Nonsense.”

  He blinked. He hadn’t expected that response. “You do get that I’m captive?” Her eyes held no warmth and even less understanding. “Do you even like me?” He didn’t know why he asked, but he could think of nothing else to say.

  “I serve my purpose.”

  Uly lay his head back against the post. What kind of people had caught him that they trained women to be like this?

  * * * * *

  “How can you be so calm? Sometimes, I swear you don’t have feelings. How else can you find everything so bloody amusing?”

  The big man turned his head slowly. He still looked calm, placid almost, but there existed a hard line to his jaw that Markis recognised. He had just pissed Ryanac off, and Markis at once regretted his words. He lowered his head in shame and apology. Ryanac spoke quietly.

  “I’ll ignore that because I know you’re having a hard time sitting still and waiting. You’re going to have to trust my word that I am anything but calm.”

  “Boys.” Tressa took a hesitant step forward. Ryanac shot her a look that stopped her in her tracks. It took her a moment, but where she didn’t seem able to approach them physically, she let her voice carry. Spreading her hands as though to show she held no weapon, she said, “We are not the enemy. The enemy is not here in this room.”

>   Ryanac snorted. Only the three of them were present. Markis frowned. “First, my apologies. Second…” He shrugged in apparent helplessness. Ryanac stared at him for some moments before he spoke.

  “I let him down.”

  Markis opened his mouth to argue, but didn’t get a chance.

  “I let him down!” the big man insisted, pushing away from the wall where he leaned. “We keep falling into the same trap. We think we’re safe on this land because we always have been.”

  “We’ve been careful.”

  “Not careful enough.”

  “Do not even suggest Uly should not have gone out that day,” Tressa interjected. “I am used to a life spent mostly indoors, but Uly is not. He did nothing wrong. You did nothing wrong.”

  “I don’t know.” Ryanac paced, running his fingers through his hair. It swung freely, the ends brushing his hips, and Markis thought of the coil of pale hair he’d put in his pocket. Uly’s hair would grow, but it would take time, and in cutting it, they had taken something from him. Ryanac came to a stop.

  “I failed him, and in that I failed you.” Something in his tone made Markis stare. He had never heard the big man sound so lost. He stood there, one arm across his body, gripping his other arm at the bicep, that arm bent up, the hand reaching to clasp and rub at the back of his neck. The position made Ryanac look huddled, tight, wound. “I thought the worst thing I could ever feel was if you died because I failed you. Now I know there’re things equally worse.”

  “I don’t blame you.” Markis took a step forward just as Tressa had, but the look in his friend’s eyes stopped him. His foolish, impatient tongue had run away with him in fear, and now Markis regretted the words that had started this, even if Ryanac claimed to dismiss them. “You nearly died. I’m not going to blame you for being poisoned.” To his horror, those dark eyes turned bright, started to glisten. Ryanac was trying not to cry.

  “I should have stayed down at the river. I should have…”

  “Why did you leave?”

  “People needed warning, and it didn’t feel safe.”

  “I’ve learned to trust your instincts. You don’t know what might have happened if you had stayed.”