by Edun, Terah
The healer beside her squeezed her hand and said, “Do you see how his glow is steady? The shield around him does not waver.”
Ciardis nodded unable to take her eyes off the wonder before her.
“Then look over there.”
She reluctantly pried her eyes from the sleeping man to look where instructed. She saw another soldier down the line. He was the opposite of everything about the soldier next to her. To start with, three attendants were frantically buzzing around him, trying to calm him and heal his wounds. Blood poured from the lacerated stumps of his arms and his screams rent the air. Staring, Ciardis saw that there was a ball of power just above his thrashing body and the golden shield extended across his form, but it looked different. As he thrashed the shield warped with a strange greenish tinge.
“That is a sign of imminent death,” the healer said. “It shows the attendant that this patient needs to be triaged, and fast, or he will die. So the person in charge of the orb, in this case Madden, knows to extend more power to that particular node.”
“What happens if the orb runs out?”
“Then we’re in trouble,” said the healer grimly.
Ciardis nodded and released the healer’s hand.
The healer turned to her. “Now do you understand?”
“You have a system. My powers would only interfere.”
“Yes,” the healer replied. “Now I must go help my compatriots.”
Ciardis called out just before the healer left, “Bandages? Would you need more?”
The healer looked back over her shoulder with a surprised smile. “Always.”
Ciardis nodded. “Then that’s what I’ll do.”
She set off toward the supply tent.
Chapter 9
Ciardis spent at least four hours first fetching bandages and thread from the medical supply tent, then running messages from the healers to the commanding guard. By the time Kane caught up with her, she was exhausted. But not tired enough to resist putting up a fight.
“I need to be here,” she protested as she walked in circles around him to give basket after basket of soaked bandages to the attendants who rushed in and out. Kane was firm. He wanted her to leave. She wanted to stay. Her logic was that without her, the supplies would run out. His logic was that she needed to rest before she dropped dead.
Ciardis ignored him. There was nothing he could say to sway her mind.
And then Maris came in out of nowhere. Her fur was ruffled and splotched with blood. She had a satchel hanging across her chest filled with bottled tinctures and wilted plants. Ciardis had seen her running past at a furious pace once earlier in the day. Seeing a healer on all fours and running past in blur like a cat on the hunt was certainly odd. Ciardis had stopped and gaped. She saw soldiers throw themselves out of Maris’s path in the same moment. When she’d inquired about the incident she’d only been told that Maris’s primary position post-offensive attacks was to take care of the wounded among the commanders, and apparently there was a mortally wounded officer among Barnaren’s subordinates.
That same healer stood before her now with a stubborn and irritated expression on her feline face. Which mean a lot of teeth were involved.
“Go, sleep, Ciardis. You’ll need it.”
Ciardis glared and put her hands on her hips. But she couldn’t out-glare a chimera. She shouldn’t have tried. Minutes later she sighed as she was walking out of the tent behind Kane. She was hobbling a little with the twisted ankle she’d gotten sometime during the day and the throbbing muscles that protested the strenuous workout she’d given them.
She still wondered at the turn of events when she’d first arrived in the healer’s quarters this afternoon. She’d been given a lesson in humility. Subtle, but a definite dose of humility. Finally Kane got tired of her lagging five feet behind him and having to wait for her to catch up. He swung her up in his arms with ease and carried her the rest of the way. As they approached her tent she felt him stop. Her head was nestled in the crooked of his neck and she was too tired to turn and look at whomever he was about to speak to. When he said nothing and just stood there, she was forced to. With irritation she peered out, squinting her eyes in the gloom to see who stood there.
A figure cloaked in darkness waited in front of her tent. His head was shrouded with a hood and his body was covered in a thick cloak. She could only see that he carried a sword at his waist and a hound sat at his feet. She felt Kane shift her silently so that he could put her down. With caution he reached for a knife at his waist. His battleax had disappeared somewhere in the day’s melee. As she stood unsteadily near Kane’s side, Ciardis began to regret her own lack of a weapon. It had only been a day, but she’d been tortured once and attacked twice. She really needed to commission a sword, although a glaive would be her preference if they were going to stay put for another twenty-four hours.
Kane spoke. “What do you want?” His voice was flat and mean. There was a hint of sorrow in the echo.
Ciardis hadn’t forgotten that Titus had died, but it wasn’t the foremost thought in her mind right now. Apparently the pain of losing a comrade and a friend in battle was foremost in Kane’s.
The man didn’t speak. He slowly lifted his hand from the sword pommel at his waist and pushed back the dark, soaked hood. Surprise robbed her of words. Kane had no such problem.
“Weathervane,” Kane said as they recognized the cloaked figure in front of them.
Her brother was standing in front of her.
The same brother who had worked for the Shadowwalker. The brother who wasn’t supposed to exist. Her twin.
She sucked in a breath as her voice echoed Kane’s. “What are you doing here?”
His golden eyes were steady. It had started to rain. It didn’t change their intensity. In fact, they took on an eerie vibrancy in the night. Like twin golden beacons in darkness. Unease rolled through her. He still hadn’t spoken.
“To see you, dear sister,” said the only other Weathervane in the world. The words were dark. They held meaning.
Ciardis didn’t like his tone. Apparently neither did Kane. He gave a sharp whistle with two low tones and a high note. Two answering whistles echoed in the night. Ciardis heard heavy feet running toward them. She wasn’t sure if they could come quickly enough. Enough for what, she couldn’t say. To capture her brother? To stop him from killing her guard?
Her brother didn’t move, even when three soldiers soon encircled him and reached forward to disarm him. He put his hand on his hound’s head to stay its attack. When they slapped manacles on him, he said nothing, either. The clang of the manacles against the metal cuffs that sheathed his wrists was loud even in the dull rain. She felt discomfort even watching. This was her brother. And yet they shackled him like a common criminal, even though he’d been forced by the very magical restraints they placed on him to work for the Shadow Mage.
“Where are they taking him?” she asked as she watched him escorted away into the night. Her skin was beginning to feel clammy and she was practically shivering.
“To an empty tent for now,” said Kane. “And you should be in yours.”
For a moment Ciardis took in the delicious irony. Both Weathervanes were under guard. The only difference here was that she remained unshackled. Kane walked forward and peered into her tent. He must have deemed it safe, because he came right back out and gestured her inside.
“There’s a hot bath waiting on you, and food,” he said. “Eat and sleep.”
“Tomorrow—”
“Tomorrow’s another day,” he said firmly, with a dark gaze.
Ciardis closed her mouth and went inside. She would get nothing more from him tonight.
In the distance the dog lay on the ground, forgotten.
******
The next morning Ciardis woke up anxious. Through her tent walls she heard the clanging of metal, and when she stepped out of bed she barely managed to miss stepping in the wash bucket at her feet. A hot bath, indeed! It was a
bucket with water. No tub in sight.
Sighing, she shrugged on the clean clothes left for her, this time choosing the more sensible tunic and jerkin lying at the foot of her cot. Peering out of tent, she was unsurprised to see Kane standing at attention at the crack of dawn. She was surprised to see Warlord Inga sitting next to him while picking her teeth with what looked suspiciously like shaved bone. Inga wasn’t there to guard Ciardis—at least she didn’t think so.
“What are you doing here, Warlord?” Ciardis said, trying to hold back a yawn.
Inga rose to her full, imposing height as she said, “Waiting for Your Highness to wake.” Sarcasm fairly dripped from her mouth.
Ciardis stared up into to the sky to make sure that the vision she had seen when she’d emerged from the tent was true. Yep, it was definitely the crack of dawn. Night still lingered in the sky as the sun insistently pushed its way forward. She really didn’t need attitude at the crack of dawn. She wasn’t an idiot, so she didn’t say that to Inga, but she did give Kane a reproachful look.
Inga said, “He wouldn’t let me wake you.”
Mouthing a silent thank you for that, Ciardis stepped forward. “How can I help you?”
“You promised us weapons.”
Whoa, back up. She had? Then she remembered the fateful discussion between Barnaren and Inga. “And you got them. Yesterday. General Barnaren promised.”
“A promise unfilled,” Inga said, throwing away the bone pick.
Ciardis gulped as she stared up at the warrior in the prime of her life. There were many things she wanted to do this morning, and on the top of the list were finding Titus’s body, conferring with Sebastian, volunteering at the healer’s tent, and getting something to eat. Nowhere on that list was playing around with Inga.
She didn’t have a choice.
“Let’s go see General Barnaren, shall we?”
Inga snorted. “Yes, let’s.”
Ciardis gave her a wan smile and started forward.
Behind her Kane cleared his throat. She looked back up at him, irritated. He nodded his head over to the right. “The general’s tent is that way.”
Ciardis didn’t bother acknowledging his help. She turned her nose up and went right like she’d meant to all along.
She heard laughter erupt from Inga as she walked behind her. She was glad someone found this morning amusing.
As they walked through the camp, Ciardis saw massive holes where tents used to be, craters from the falling capsules, and discarded weapons that were bent and melted from the poison spewed by the spidersilks. Men were already shoveling dirt into the large holes, but even she could see it was a difficult task to accomplish when the ground was half-frozen from last night’s freeze.
“Where’s your spidersilk?”
“He’s back at camp,” said Inga.
After a moment, Ciardis volunteered, “He saved my life last night.”
“He saved many lives last night.” She said it with pride.
Ciardis glanced back at her. “Why is he so different?”
“I have never known a single individual to be exactly like another, even if their species is the same,” Inga said with a shrug. “Why do some humans fight this war and others cower in their homes?”
That was the wrong thing to say in mixed company. A nearby soldier overheard and he whirled from where he was sharpening his sword to snarl, coming at Inga. Ciardis saw Kane move quickly from the corner of her eye. His new battleax came up out of nowhere and caught the man’s sword in a downward strike.
“Enough!” he shouted. “Inga wasn’t speaking of you and yours.”
“Then she should watch her tongue,” the man hissed.
The ominous sound of Inga’s sword leaving its sheath echoed in the morning.
“I can fight my own battles.”
Nervously, Ciardis stepped forward in between Kane and his opponent and Inga’s mighty sword. Speaking to the man firmly, she said, “Everyone showed bravery yesterday. Everyone. But more than bravery, we need unity.”
All three turned surprised glances to her. Finally the man stood back and said, “Who are you to speak to me?”
Ciardis straightened up to her full height of five and a half feet and said, “A citizen of this empire.”
“A citizen who consorts with frost giants,” the man said, spitting over his shoulder in disgust. He left and they continued on their way. The incident made Ciardis wonder, if soldiers reacted this way just upon seeing humans walk with frost giants, they would not take too well to consorting with them, either. Kane and Inga were a brave couple. She also had the suspicion that the barricade surrounding Inga’s camp was less a sign of antagonism on the frost giants’ part as opposed to a need for protection from xenophobic idiots.
Suddenly a messenger astride on horseback rode up to them out of nowhere. “Urgent message from the Prince Heir for Companion Weathervane.”
He didn’t jump down from his horse. He didn’t have to. Kane took the missive from his hands as the man hurriedly pulled his horse around and hurried away with more rolled-up parchment sticking out from his saddlebags.
“I’m not a companion,” Ciardis muttered half-heartedly as she watched the man race away like the hounds of hell were at his heels.
Kane gave her the letter without a word, standing off to her right decorously. Inga had no such compunctions and came right up to Ciardis to stand over her and look down at the letter. Since Ciardis barely reached the underside of Inga’s breasts, it was a comical sight.
Ciardis looked up at Inga and then shook her head and opened the letter. The frost giantess’s face was open and curious.
As Ciardis read, she couldn’t help but speak the words silently to herself.
“Dearest Ciardis,
I had hopes that you would see the lights of the winter rainbow with me before we took leave for the capital city of Sandrin. If you are amenable, please journey to the western guard tower at first light. I will be waiting.
Signed,
Sebastian Athanos Algardis.”
Ciardis crumpled the letter in her hands while her thoughts raced.
The first thing she said was, “What in the hell is going on?”
“Ciardis,” Kane said, stepping forward.
Ciardis turned to Kane with a perplexed look. “I think the Prince Heir just invited me on a lovers’ stroll.”
“And that’s bad because?” said Inga, sarcasm dripping from her words.
“Because we’re at war, for one, and he just got through torturing me, for another,” Ciardis grumbled.
“Oh,” said Inga, considering. “Literally?”
“Truth serum,” said Kane in response.
Ciardis looked at him askance. He looked away in the distance, his face as hard as stone.
“The general ordered me not to go inside,” Kane said quietly, “but I heard your cries.”
Ciardis bit the inside of her lip, in turmoil because he had heard her and hadn’t helped. But she could see that it distressed him, so for now his concern was enough for her.
“Do you think I should go?” she asked point-blank.
Kane turned to her, surprised that she would ask his opinion at all. “What do you have to gain?”
She tilted her head and looked up at him. “Most people would ask, ‘What do you have to lose?’”
“Most people don’t have the relationship that you have with the Prince Heir,” Kane pointed out. “You already claim most of his heart. Or at least as much of it as he has ever allowed. Now you need to see what else there is.”
“You speak like one born to the courts.”
“He was,” Inga said stiffly.
Surprise swept through Ciardis as she looked back and forth between the two former lovers who towered over her.
“Oh?” she said. Her single word was a question.
A question Kane deliberately ignored.
“Now is not the time or place,” he said just as stiffly.
Ciardis
blinked and went back to perusing the letter. Her memory flashed back to her conversation with Sebastian before the Truthsayer had come. He’s hiding something, the Prince Heir had said with a stubborn look in his eyes. If she knew Sebastian, he hadn’t given up on finding out what it was. Perhaps the romantic interlude wasn’t going to be so romantic after all.
“Do you know where the western guard tower is?” she asked Kane absentmindedly.
Kane nodded. “Near the mages’ encampment.”
Ciardis raised an eyebrow. “They live on the outskirts of the soldiers’ camp? Doesn’t that make them vulnerable?”
“They prefer it there. There’s a giant ice shelf that protects them from the elements and apparently has magical properties.”
“Well, then, let’s go.”
Inga smiled.
“What?” said Ciardis, looking up at the frost giantess.
“The sleds,” she said with the look of a child who had won all the toys in the world.
“The what?”
Kane let out a laugh and shook his head. “You’ll see.”
Ciardis, Kane, and Inga took off in the direction that Kane had pointed to. They came to a stop just outside a farrier’s stall, which rang with the sounds of horses getting new shoes, nails being hammered, and armor plate being melded for the steeds’ chest plates. They walked to a clean patch of snow that stretched a quarter of a mile in the distance.