Sworn To Conflict: Courtlight #3

by Edun, Terah

  Her brother searched her eyes. “Don’t you want to be a part of that?”

  His face was beseeching, his eyes earnest as he looked at her. Ciardis felt her heart break in two and her resolve shatter. She wasn’t sure she believed the story yet, but she couldn’t deny the evidence in front of her eyes of a hunted people. If a sanctuary was what they wanted, then she would do her best to provide it, and then she would have some sharp questions for her Imperial benefactor, starting with what the hell was going on in the north.

  She looked over at Thanar, determination written on her face. Screw the courts if they denied these people a home, a haven. Damn them twice to hell if they were the ones that were the cause of it. She would get down to the bottom of this, but for now she had a shield to restore.

  “Let’s go.” Surety laced her tone.

  As they walked past the hovels that served as homes and through the fields where the refugees had planted food, Ciardis felt nothing. Not pain, not sadness, not joy, not sorrow. Only an empty core at her center. She couldn’t believe the betrayal that was reverberating in her mind. It was one thing for the courts to castigate her, quite another for them to do it to a people innocent of anything except trying to live a regular life.

  Before them in a field empty of grass and rocks stood a mighty crystal. It glowed with the morning sun. But it wasn’t very bright. In fact, the light had faded to a dim pulse. Sucking in a breath sharply, she turned on her mage sight. It was just as the Daemoni feared. The geas was on its last leg. Patches empty of magic were already flickering into existence on the wall of the dome surrounding them high above. Through the open patches snow whistled through on the high winds from the surrounding mountain peaks. It was clear that the sight and sound shield surrounding the entire sanctuary was failing.

  “I tried to replenish it alongside the Daemoni mages,” her brother explained, “but it needs the powers of at least two Weathervanes. From the inscription at the base, there were three of our ancestors who created this crystal alongside five Daemoni mages, imbued it with magic, and set up this haven.”

  She tilted her head, curious. “Our ancestors were aware of the Sarvinian mines? And did nothing?”

  Caemon smiled. “This was built long before the Initiate Wars and the mines were discovered. The sanctuary has been here for at least four hundred years and has been written in the lore of the kith for just as long.”

  She blinked.

  “What do we need to do?”

  “My brother, my sister, and I are the strongest of the Daemoni mages,” said Thanar. He beckoned for two other Daemoni to come forth.

  “We will do the chant,” said Thanar with the two other Daemoni behind him, “and you will strengthen us.”

  “It will not take much effort,” ventured the Daemoni female mage. “Merely a strong reservoir of power.”

  “That I can do,” said Ciardis.

  Thanar nodded sharply, and as one the group of Daemoni mages stepped forward. They called forth the sigils laced in the crystal. Six pulsing sigils rose from the crystal into the air. Throbbing with the beat of the Daemoni hearts.

  Ciardis looked over at Caemon.

  “Sister, it will take them a minute to prepare.” he said, holding up a hand. “In the meantime, tell me what has been taught to you about two Weathervanes working in concert.”

  Ciardis didn’t think it was the time to be loquacious. She said bluntly, “All I know is that I get queasy when you’re working around me.”

  He narrowed his eyes and demanded, “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” she said sharply. “You forget, brother that I didn’t even know what I was until five months ago. I’ve had even less time to learn.”

  “My apologies,” he said shortly, “but the mages of the Imperial courts have done nothing short of denying you your powers. The bastards have done it on purpose. I could swear on it.”

  “Another thing on the list of problems I need to hash out with the Imperial courts,” she said dryly.

  “Right,” he said, rubbing his brow in irritation. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to join hands and meld our gifts. In this instance, I will take over your gift.”

  Before she could protest, he hurried forward. “We have no other choice. This must be done and done correctly, or the shield will fall within moments and the backlash will kill everyone in this valley.”

  He looked over at the three chanting Daemoni mages with worry in his eyes. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “All right.” Reluctant but aware of the need.

  “All right,” he said more calmly.

  They joined hands and linked fingers. Despite the worry in his eyes, Ciardis felt the steadiness of his stance. He was ready. She just hoped that she was. They turned to face forward, standing three feet behind the Daemoni’s outstretched wings.

  Ciardis swallowed deeply as she watched the sigils rise. An ancient script as old as Sahalian but different, the art of sigils was one lost in modern times. She had no idea what the sigils meant because they were unreadable to the untrained eye, but dark and evil came to mind.

  Caemon rose up their joined hands and unleashed his power. In a rush she felt him join her mage core to his, and watched as their powers twined around each other like living snakes. The spools of power rose up in the air in front of her eyes, split, and fed into the Daemoni mages in front of them. The recharge effort had begun. Ciardis just hoped they weren’t too late.

  As the Daemoni mages finished and she felt relief wash over her, she let a small smile grace her face. Thanar turned to them and said, “It will take some time for the crystal to fully awaken. Please do not wander far; we may need your strength later.”

  *****

  Hours later, Ciardis and Caemon were walking in the darkness of the fields in the sanctuary. Night had fallen and the grass was abuzz with the sound of crickets and grasshoppers singing their serenades. She had to smile at how serendipitous it was. Walking side-by-side with her brother in a place that almost seemed a dream, it was so perfectly formed.

  Softly, she asked, “How long have you been here? Coming to the Sanctuary?”

  “All my teen years,” he said with a laugh.

  She turned with surprise to him. “And you still went back? Back to the soldiers’ camp?”

  “I had no choice. I knew that if I disappeared for long periods they would track me and find me here. The bracelets I wear have always allowed them to find me before.”

  “And now?”

  “They are dormant. I have no master. I’d like to keep it that way,” he said in a teasing tone.

  “You will.” Her voice was a promise. A pact.

  “Ciardis—”

  “Why did you come back?” she asked at the same time.

  “Back?” he said, his tone cautious.

  “To camp yesterday night. Why were you standing outside of my tent?”

  “I told the truth. I just wanted to see you. To explain. It’s a truly a miracle that you arrived when you did today.”

  “A miracle or an intervention,” she muttered in disgust.

  “What do you mean?” he said, pausing to bend down to pick up a dandelion. Dew filled its pedals.

  Reluctantly, she spoke. “We went to see the Old Ones today. Myself and the general’s contingent.”

  He whistled. “The Old Ones don’t just meet with you. They overwhelm you.”

  Her head snapped up in shock as she looked at him. “How did you know that?”

  “Because I’ve met them.”

  “When?”

  “Months back.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. They nearly killed me. I was discovered back in Barnaren’s camp with blood coming out of too many orifices to count and shaking in pain. I was put into a healing sleep for a month after that.”

  She was silent.

  “What did you experience?”

  She breathed out slowly. “About the same.”

  “Did they speak with any
one?”

  “They pushed their power on Sebastian and spoke to no one,” she said. “But do you know why we went to see the Old Ones in the first place?”

  He turned to her questioningly.

  “Because the Old Ones were said to be on the side of the Sarvinians.”

  He let out a sharp bark of laughter that he couldn’t quite contain.

  “Whoever said that was lying. The Old Ones are nature spirits. They always have their own agenda. For now and since time immortal, they have served the Algardis emperor. Easing his soldiers’ paths in the mountains, removing the bitter cold of frost from their encampments, depositing meat and game for their feasts.”

  “You make it sounds as if the Empire controls them,” she ventured.

  “As much as one can control such a spirit, they do.”

  “Let’s go back to Thanar,” she said softly. A lot was swirling in her mind.

  Thanar stood speaking with kith of all races when they discovered him, but he got up when they arrived.

  “It is done,” Thanar said gratefully. “Our people are safe.”

  She had a brief moment of hesitation. The spell had seemed simple, too simple.

  “Are you sure?” Ciardis said.

  “Of course,” said Thanar with an odd glint in his eyes.

  Ciardis nodded. “And now?”

  “Now, Weathervane, you go home,” Thanar said with a dark gaze.

  Fire burned in her eyes. “You said if we helped you wouldn’t discard Inga and me without our supplies or clothes.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I have no intention of discarding you, as you say. I want you to go back to the camp. Back to the Prince Heir. Hear him explain the mines. Hear what he has to say.”

  “Why?” said Caemon abruptly. His arms were crossed angrily on his chest.

  Thanar turned considering eyes on the young Weathervane. “I believe we can make a pact. One that will free the people here.”

  Caemon stared him in open-mouthed disbelief, “Impossible. You know the emperor’s men will never keep their word.”

  “We have to try,” said Thanar. “If there is even a chance these people can free of the ever-present threat of bondage outside of the Sanctuary, then we must.”

  Caemon swore. “They will never keep their word. They will never let these people be free.”

  Caemon grabbed at Thanar in desperation. “You know they’ve kept me bound my entire life. For something that they want as much as this, they will do anything to possess it.”

  “We’ll keep a wary eye out for any trickery,” said Thanar blithely.

  Caemon took a step back with fisted hands. “You’re being a fool, Thanar. You know this. Why are you turning your back on your people?”

  “I’m not,” said Thanar with an odd note of satisfaction in his voice.

  “You are.”

  Thanar turned to Ciardis. “Will you at least convey the request for an understanding to the Prince Heir and the Algardis Army?”

  She bit her lip, uncertain, but she knew he was serious.

  “Very well,” she said, relief coloring her tone. “But does it have to be tonight?”

  The Daemoni warrior threw back his head and laughed. “No, no, it does not, Weathervane. You are welcome to rest in our company.”

  Caemon was upset. She could see it in the stiff lines of his body. But she would deal with that later. He had to come around and see that at least Sebastian could be trusted to keep his word.

  Thanar bowed. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  She sighed. “Great, because my bones are aching.”

  She turned to her brother. “What about you, Caemon?”

  His eyes were unreadable. “I must confess I feel a little weary, as well. Perhaps it would be best if we retire. I will show you and Warlord Inga to your quarters.”

  “Great, perhaps we can talk on the way,” Ciardis said carefully.

  As they walked over to where Inga was being held Ciardis had to chuckle. She wasn’t sure if held was the right word any longer. The towering giant sat on the ground surrounded by a mass of children. That’s one way to keep her busy, Ciardis thought.

  She turned to her brother, “They’ll keep their word.”

  “You can’t know that,” Caemon responded.

  “No, but I trust Sebastian,” Ciardis said.

  “The Prince Heir has nothing to do with this. He has no power. He never has and he never will, “Caemon responded with wave of his hand as he quickly picked up speed to walk ahead of her.

  “Well, there goes that conversation,” Ciardis muttered.

  As Inga joined her side on their way to the sleeping quarters, Ciardis hastily gave her an overview of the day’s activities. The frost giant grunted. “You certainly know how to find trouble.”

  “And how did you fare?” Ciardis asked.

  “I made friends,” Inga said with sarcasm. Ciardis noticed that blood no longer coated the Warlord’s face and her weapons had been returned.

  They went to their beds without further words. There was not much else to say anyway. “Sorry I got you kidnapped and clubbed” really didn’t seem appropriate at the moment, she thought as she drifted off.

  That night Ciardis woke after the moon was high in the sky, her whole body stiff with apprehension. Something was wrong. Something deadly.

  Chapter 17

  Ciardis threw off the covers on the open-air mat she lay on and looked up at the sky. It was four hours until dawn. At a glance she noted grimly that her brother was gone. That wasn’t good. She had slept ready to move—or to run—so she had no problems grabbing her knife and hurrying over to Inga’s larger pallet.

  “Caemon’s gone,” she whispered near Inga’s head. Leaning over her, she reached down to shake her and nearly shrieked when Inga threw off the covers and drew the sword from the opposite side of her mat at the same time.

  “Oh, it’s you,” said Inga, staring at her grumpily.

  Ciardis’s heart was still racing a mile a minute, but she fought to keep her voice low. “I said Caemon is gone.”

  Inga’s eyes sharpened in clarity as she lowered the sword and looked around. She didn’t bother asking where.

  “Let’s go,” she said harshly. Inga didn’t have to know where he’d gone to know that the disappearance of their friendly disappearing Weathervane wasn’t a good thing.

  Ciardis put a halting hand on the frost giant’s shoulder. She could only do that because Inga was still sitting up instead of standing.

  “How can we find him in the dark? Can you track him?”

  Inga snorted. “Don’t insult me. Of course I can. Give me your hand.”

  “Why?” She wasn’t ready to be thrown onto Inga’s back in a sling again.

  Warlord Inga smiled as if reading her thoughts and finding amusement.

  “He is your blood—I can track the blood of anyone using their closest relatives. Family connection is the next best thing to a blood trail,” she said as she got up.

  Ciardis held out her hand without protest. Inga drew the very tip of her smallest knife along the center of Ciardis’s palm. Red blood welled up and she staunched it with the cloth that she pulled from her breast band. Holding the cloth streaked and dotted with bright red blood to her nose, Inga took a deep sniff.

  “Let’s go,” she said, her voice deeply satisfied.

  They set off into the night, ducking around tents and heading deeper into the interior of the sanctuary. They weren’t able to be completely noiseless, thanks to Ciardis, but they were pretty quiet.

  They kept moving northward and up. Climbing the walls of the valley until they got to a ledge. At the corner of the ledge was an exit. A deep, dark hole that Ciardis could sense led outside of the great crystal barrier. She felt uneasy. What if the Daemoni warning system went off while they were crossing the barrier? What would they do?

  Her answer melted out of the darkness like shadows as the Daemoni warriors and others materialized in a circle around them
. From the air a dark form landed.

  Thanar stepped forward. “I’m disappointed, Weathervane. We really had all intention of letting you go once dawn rose.”

  Ciardis said quickly, “Why do you care what time we leave? We’d been promised that we could go.”

  “In the middle of the night?” said Thanar lightly.

  “We weren’t doing anything wrong,” pointed out Ciardis.

  Thanar snorted.

  Maniacal laughter sounded from behind her. She did not want to turn around and see what had caused the creepy shiver down her back. It hadn’t sounded anywhere near human.

  “Then what are you doing out in the middle of the night?”

  She didn’t see any other choice but to tell the truth. “My brother is missing. We tracked him here.”

  Darkness slid into Thanar’s eyes. “Caemon ran here?”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “I wasn’t asking you, Weathervane,” Thanar said softly. “Blutschwester, is what the human says true?”

  “It is,” Inga replied from the wary crouch she had assumed.

  “Then we must hurry,” Thanar said.

  “We?” squeaked Ciardis.

  He threw her an irritated glance. “This is about more than just you, Weathervane. I fear your brother will endanger us all with his actions.”

  “What might those actions be?”

  He stared at her with calculation in his eyes. For a moment Ciardis was certain he wouldn’t tell her what he knew. Impatience must have outweighed caution, though.

  He looked to his right at the opening in the wall. “This path is a gateway to the Sarvinian mines.”

  Ciardis froze.

  “What?” said Inga. “How could they be so close?”

  “The mines themselves lie hundreds of miles away. Deep in the Northern Mountains that flow through the wastelands of Sarvinia,” Thanar said. “But a gateway appeared many weeks ago linking this place to the mines. We call them geisttor. It appeared like magic—a portalway to other parts of Algardis and within Sarvinia itself. Because of this we have spirited many of our comrades through it.”