“Oh, we have gotten news of your delusion, Aeron. You may be the most powerful Mist Woman here, in Rifarne, but elsewhere there are those who would see you dead. I have come to see that desire fulfilled.”
Aeron grinned. She was the one deluding herself, when Kaida stood right there claiming she could kill her? Oh, but that insolent pest had another thing coming!
“I want to see you try!”
Without as much as a nod, the Midokan bitch raised her hands. “I'm sorry, Aeron. I wish it had not come to this.”
White hot flames engulfed her, different to any she had ever seen before. These were more hungry, burnt hotter, and seemed to have a life of their own. They were determined. Alive. Aeron felt her skin prickle under the heat. How could this be? How could one Midokan witch have done her so much harm, with one simple spell?
The flames licked up around her body. The pain became almost unbearable, but she would not scream. If she were to die here by some great miscalculation then so be it. She had accounted for this unlikely event. She grinned. If Kaida had known what killing her would unleash, of the pact she had made, she would not have been so eager to see her dead. Either way, she had won.
Aeron died engulfed by flames, grinning and laughing as they consumed her life.
Sad that it had come to this, Kaida watched Aeron's last moments. To turn away now, as someone she had killed took their last breaths, would be disrespectful to her prey. She would not allow herself to stoop as low as Aeron had fallen.
When it was done and she was satisfied that there was no way to bring Aeron back, Kaida spoke the ancient prayer passed down through her family for millennia.
Aeron was dead. There was nothing left to do but return home and report the news. She wanted to meet the Sparrow from the prophecy, help her achieve her goal, but now was not the right moment for that. There was something more urgent she needed to do first. Aeron's arms and legs had been covered in scars, the marks of short but deep incisions she recognised but could not place. What she had seen had to be reported, in case she was correct—in case the uneasy feeling seeing the scars had caused was justified.
Kaida would see the Sparrow again soon enough. In the meantime, she would make sure that Aeron hadn't set the end of the world in motion.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Panting, Rachael reached King's Road moments behind Arlo. The tall man was still not out of breath after all this running and fighting, while Rachael struggled to keep up. She had thought herself in good shape after all those merciless training sessions with Cale. Running after Arlo had taught her that the opposite was true.
“Hurry, lass. Cale is waiting just a little up ahead.”
She wanted to protest, tell him she couldn't run as fast as him, but more than anything she was still seething mad at him for killing Cephy. Seething mad at Cephy for attacking her. Seething mad at Aeron, for having manipulated Cephy. So, instead of her protests, she remained silent and did her best to follow behind.
If only she had had a little more time, she could have convinced Cephy. She could have tried harder to save her, but Arlo hadn't given her that chance. That Cephy would attack her at all... That Arlo, who had healed her hands and comforted her would kill her as easily as that... All of this was Aeron's fault. She didn't know how, but the Mist Woman would pay for destroying everything good in her life.
Since arriving at Cale's house, she had begun to trust people. It had been a slow process but eventually, she had begun to trust them. Where had that trust gotten her now? Even Cephy had betrayed her. None of that would change once King Aeric lay dead inside his throne room, but maybe it would make a difference for someone else, somewhere else within Rifarne. Cephy had been correct there, at least. Growing up hated by everyone had been a long nightmare. If she could spare someone else the same fate, then King Aeric needed to die. There was no point thinking about it. She simply needed to do it.
Prophecy seemed certain about his death and her hand in it, and she thought she was ready to believe the rest of it, too. She had been reluctant to believe that Cephy would betray her, but it had happened and there was no pretending otherwise now. If the Prophecy could promise her an end to this madness if she killed the King, then she would kill the King.
“Lass! Did you hear what I said? We need to hurry!”
Not wanting to talk to him she nodded, picking up her pace once more. King's Road spanned the entire length of the Upper City and a small part of the Lower City. They had joined it a way along but it would still take a while to reach the other end.
The heavy clang of steel upon cobblestone rang through the air as five White Guards made their way down King's Road, heading straight for them.
“Shite! Rachael, run that way. I will catch up with you once—”
“Don't bother running from me, Sparrow. I know this city better than most, know all of its hidden alleys and small side roads. There is nowhere you can hide where I won't find you.” She would have recognised the voice anywhere. It still frequented her nightmares often enough for her not to forget it any time soon. It was the commander who had come to Blackrock to take her and Cephy to the White City. This time, she had no one to burn them down with their will alone. Arlo knew how to handle a sword—she had seen proof of that several times since she started following him through the city's labyrinth—but even Arlo would be outnumbered when faced with five trained soldiers, one of them a commander who'd no doubt earned his title.
She knew there was no point in running. This city was a maze to her, the layout as confusing to her as her own gift. She could have been born in the White City and still wouldn't know all of its hidden nooks. She had no doubt that the commander knew it better than he knew his own men.
“Rachael! Run, lass, or do you want them to cut you down?” What good would it do? Her punishment would only be all the worse if she ran now. She preferred a quick death to a slow, torturous one. Maybe in the afterlife—if there was such a thing—she would be able to make amends to Cephy.
The commander and his four heavily armed soldiers reached her and Arlo, and within seconds they were surrounded.
“No need to worry about your beloved Sparrow. King Aeric wants to have a word with her. We have come to take her to him.”
Arlo growled, more dangerous than a rabid wolf and just as easily provoked. “And once he's done talking he will shower her in rich gifts and fabrics?”
The commander laughed, a sound devoid of any actual happiness. All she heard was madness, and she wondered if he had always been insane or if Aeron had ruined him, too. “Of course not, silly man. But who am I to say? I'd cut her down where she stands, but King Aeric insists I take her to him. Once he's done saying what he wants to say I'm sure he will let me do my job.”
“If you think I will just let you take her you're more stupid than you look.”
Rachael wasn't sure which man would have dropped first had their glares been deadly.
“Arlo. I'll go with them. You don't need to—” Enough people had died. It needed to end.
“And you, lass, are wrong if you think I will allow you to walk to your death. Cale would never forgive me if I let that happen.” Not once did Arlo's eyes leave the commander. “Be a man and fight me, you shite!”
“Hear that, men?” The commander laughed, drawing his own blade. “The old man thinks he can defeat me in a duel!”
“A duel? I'd kill all of you if you charged me now and it still wouldn't be a fair fight!” Arlo spat, axe raised and ready to strike.
“Now, now, old man. You wound me already, and our steels have yet to meet. Men! Spread out, don't lose sight of the girl!” As one unit his soldiers moved aside. One of them grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her with him.
Without further warning Arlo attacked. His axe came down swiftly, nearly knocking the commander’s sword out of his hands but he tightened his grip in the last moment and staggered back a few steps. Arlo didn't wait for him to raise his sword for a counter attack. With the fury t
o make a demon pale, he charged the commander who only managed to dodge in the last second. The axe came stuck between the Cobblestones, and it gave the commander the opening he had needed. Arlo dodged, but not without harm. The blade cut into his arm, blood stained the paving a slippery red. His anger rekindled by the wound, Arlo pulled the axe out from between the stones, just before the commander's blade would have split him in half. Neither gave the other a moment to breathe—both attacked mercilessly without quarter. The cold ringing of steel filled the air as both men attacked without pause, their weapons meeting in mid-air again and again without reaching their true aims once.
Rachael watched their struggle frozen to the spot as the Commander of the White Guard slipped on the blood, which now spread across several stones. Arlo brought down his axe, aiming for the commander's middle—
When the commander rolled to his side in the last second. Without delay, he launched his blade forward through Arlo's stomach.
“Arlo!” The guard's grip on her arm hardened. She struggled to break free but there was no point to her efforts. Four seasoned soldiers guarded her, each of them stronger than her. All she could do was watch as the commander, with a victorious shout, pulled his blade slowly out of Arlo's middle and Arlo toppled over on to his knees, holding the gaping wound with his shaking hands as he tried to hold himself up on his still buried axe.
“Justice!” The commander laughed, sheathing his sword and taking a step away from Arlo. “I told you I would not be defeated in a duel.” He turned to his men, his bloody sword raised and a smug grin on his face. “He wanted to fight all of us at once! See what his arrogance has brought him?”
Rachael was shaking. How dare he call Arlo arrogant! Besides Cale, Arlo was the most selfless and caring person she'd ever met.
Her heart hurt at how she had hated him only moments ago, after he had killed Cephy. The decision couldn't have been easy on him, either.
And where was Cale in all this? Hadn't Arlo said that he was waiting a little farther ahead? Surely he had seen the White Guard approach, heard the screaming of steel against steel?
A tear rolled down her cheek. She couldn't remember the last time she had wept for someone else's life. Cale would be devastated that his friend was gone, that she could have intervened but hadn't.
A forceful pull on her arm reminded her that there had been nothing she could have done. She would have torn her arm off in the process, so firm was his hold on her. It would bruise just from the pressure alone, should she live to see another day.
“Hand her to me. We can take her to the palace now that this silly game is over.”
“No! Don't you dare!” Rachael kicked out and hit his kneecap, earning herself an angry hiss at the sudden pain in his leg.
“Do you know what we do to rebellious brats like you, in the prison?” Her blood ran cold at the mere mention, but she wasn't about to show him how much he terrified her. She remembered the place her vision had shown her all too well. The knowledge that there was no hope. “You'll beg me to kill you long before I indulge you. You'll swear you'll do anything, so long as I end your pain.”
She spat in his face. He could torture her all he wanted, but she would never beg for that.
With his armoured fist, he punched her. A sharp pain spread in her nose and she tasted blood as it filled her mouth, but she wasn't about to show him how much it hurt. He would have to do a lot better before she screamed.
She owed Arlo that much. Owed all of them a bit of defiance, most of all herself.
“Let this be a promise of what's to come, you little bitch!”
She hoped he couldn't see how much her legs were shaking at the threat.
The inside was as beautiful and as much of a credit to its craftsmen's skills as the outside had been. Generously adorned with intricate designs and details, the halls within the White Palace seemed to stretch on for miles. It was even more of a maze to her than the city itself had been, but Commander Videl navigated the halls, corridors and passages with ease, knowing every corner as surely as his name.
Before a large heavy set of doors, they halted. Two guards greeted her escorts by holding their fists to their hearts and standing firm until the commander told them otherwise.
“Open the doors. I have a present for King Aeric.”
Slowly, the doors opened as the guards followed their order. The throne room behind them was the largest space Rachael had ever seen. Easily as large as the market square, the hall was empty and quiet in comparison. There were no buzzing crowds here; only its king sat upon his throne watching them enter. Ten pairs of feet—five to each side of his throne—watched over his safety.
Commander Videl shoved Rachael half way to the throne before he gave her a final push and she hit the ground.
“Your Highness, I bring you the Sparrow herself!”
She couldn't see King Aeric's face, but she didn't need to. No doubt it was a victorious grin as sure of itself as the commander's. She had heard enough about the man to feel that she knew him. She didn't need to see the cold, hateful glare in his eyes to confirm what she already knew.
“Leave us alone.” His voice was not what she had expected. She had assumed his voice to be cold, as cruel and calculating as his methods had proven to be, but instead he sounded tired. Exhausted, even. Underneath all that she could hear a warmth she hadn't anticipated. This was not a man who burnt down his own city, or lusted to see his people dead for the fault of being born with the gift. No man with those traits had the soft, compassionate touch to his voice his had once held. It was thin now, barely noticeable, but once he had been a good man. He was like every other criminal driven to his actions by hunger and necessity. Like every other peasant. No matter his actions or his reasoning, his voice still spoke of the man he used to be.
She wondered if he knew how much like his people he had become, now that life had forced his hand.
“My king, I cannot—”
“Leave, Commander Videl. Take your men with you.” Rachael found herself smiling. Regardless of how tired he was or how compassionate he had once been, he could be firm when needed. He was her enemy, someone she needed to kill, but unlike the commander or Aeron she could respect him.
Even without raising her head she knew that the commander grimaced behind her. It didn't matter how important he thought he was. He would do as his king commanded, despite the bruises it left on his ego.
Behind her, the heavy doors opened and closed once more as the commander and his soldiers left the room.
The guards by his throne hadn't moved.
“Come closer.” She wanted to be nowhere near the man, but to kill him she would have to do as he said. Her magic would do no good in killing him from any distance, and she was no good with a bow even if she had had one. Maybe, if she got close enough, she could run him through before he or his guards could react.
Slowly, determined to defy the man who had ordered her death at every step, she got up and dragged herself over to him. Her face stung from the blow the commander had landed. The blood had left a dry crust around her nose and running down her chin.
“I know why you're here.”
“Why send your commander away and leave me my sword?” If nothing else, she thought, he would have ordered them to take her weapon away. Was he so confident in his own ability that he believed her to be no threat? Magic or no, Cale had trained her well in the short time they'd had and the king didn't look fit for a fight. He looked as exhausted as he sounded, ready for a long night's rest if anything. He was thin, worn out from the conflict he had started, and his face showed deep lines shaped by worry.
King Aeric didn't look like a king. If it hadn't been for his expensive robes, the jewellery, and the crown on his head he could have been any other beggar in Blackrock.
With a heavy sigh, King Aeric got up and moved towards her with the same grace as a dying lion.
Finally, an arm's length away from her, he stopped.
“Because this is my thro
ne, not his. If you want my crown you will need to fight me for it, not him.” Her aching face twisted into a smirk. The man she had worried about slaying, because she had believed him to be impossible to reach, had challenged her to a duel.
His behaviour puzzled her. She needed to know his reasons. “You want to fight me?”
His forehead creasing, he shook his head. “I have not been a good king, Sparrow. A good king would have prevented this war. A good king would not have confided in a Mist Woman.” There it was. The confession to everything Arlo had warned her about. He really had schemed with Aeron, against the welfare of his people. Had he known what she would do? From the open regret laid bare on his face she didn't think he had.
“You regret your life.” It was more an observation than a question, but Rachael didn't know how to respond to any of this. She had come prepared for an impossible fight, yet he was willing to cross blades knowing his odds. He looked too worn out to take another step, least of all defend himself in a fight for his life.
Again, he shook his head. “No. Only the last year of it.” With a heavy sigh, he sat himself down on the cold steps leading up to his throne. His guards looked uneasy but didn't leave their positions. “On the day of my coronation I swore to serve my people. I swore to protect them from harm, hear their pleas and serve them as a good ruler should. They came to me, saying that magic ruined their crops, forced their wives into stillbirth and sold ill omens rather than charms for good luck on my markets. I put up laws, forbidding the gifted to interfere in the lives of people without magic. For a while, it worked. Then they took offence. Called those who had accused them liars, swearing they had not done any of the things they had been blamed for. But what could I do? The stillbirths had decreased and our crops flourished. Then the protests started. People got arrested. I sent them to prison, like I would send any other criminal. My commander assured me they were treated the way they deserved. I did not realise our views on how to treat people were so different.”
Rise of the Sparrows (Relics of Ar'Zac #1) Page 25