by Morgan Rice
He kept going, fighting his way toward Ulren. The Second Stone stood there waiting for him but made no move to seek Irrien out. Stephania called out from the side.
“Your castle is falling. We will have this city soon. You shouldn’t have taken so many men out to win a battle.”
Irrien forced himself to focus on the fight in front of him. He could kill these interlopers. He would kill them, Stephania last of all, while she begged for her life. He cut one opponent’s throat and then parried a slash aimed at his head. Irrien struck back and all but decapitated his assailant.
He would fight his way through to Ulren, whatever it took. He would end this.
He turned toward Stephania, and was just in time to see her hefting a knife, flinging it his way. If his shoulder hadn’t been injured, perhaps he would have just batted it aside and charged forward to slay her. Instead, he wasn’t quite fast enough, and the blade sliced across his forearm as he knocked it aside, drawing a line of blood.
Irrien charged for her, but Ulren was there then, their blades clashing again and again. The Second Stone had the skill and cunning of a master warrior, but Irrien had the strength. Or he should have had. Instead, he felt weakness spreading through him, and as the battle split the two of them apart again, Irrien saw dark spider web threads spreading across his forearm where Stephania’s knife had struck it.
Poison.
“It won’t be long now,” Stephania taunted from the side, and looking around, Irrien knew it was true. He couldn’t hope to stand there and fight when there was some vile substance spreading like a dark stain through his body. He couldn’t hold the castle, only escape it and try to retake it.
If he survived the poison, and there was only one way Irrien could think of to do that.
He struck at an enemy, cut down a second, and waited for the swing of a sword to come in at his head. He lifted his left arm as if he might be able to stop the blow with bare flesh. He couldn’t. He wasn’t even trying to.
Instead, he bellowed his defiance as the sword stroke took his arm.
Another man might have collapsed from the shock, but Irrien wasn’t another man. He managed to stab his opponent, wishing even as he did it that it was Stephania he was plunging his blade into. She had done this, as surely as if she had struck the blow herself. Irrien wished he could go to her and kill her then, but it was all he could do to grip the stump of his severed arm and charge, bellowing like a wounded bull as he tried to hold in the blood.
He barged his way from the great hall, abandoning what was left of his men to die, and clutching his arm as he ran desperately to make it to the docks, to freedom.
To fight another day.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Thanos stood in Haylon in the aftermath of the battle and he couldn’t believe that he was still alive. He’d expected to die on the beach with so many enemies, then in the battle to take back the island from the forces that had captured it.
Instead, here he was, standing in the middle of Haylon’s open square, watching men and women tend to the wounded and repair damaged sections of wall. It was quieter than it had been during the battle, but it was still anything but silent. There was too much for people to do.
For the first time in what felt like too many days, Thanos put his sword away. He looked around, seeing the space where Akila was helping to plan again. Thanos would have to go over to help with that soon enough, to assess what had worked in their defenses and what still needed to be strengthened.
For now, though, there were other things that he wanted to do.
He started with the simplest of them, going to a water fountain and taking a long, cooling drink. In the past few days, it had felt as though there was no respite, no time in which to eat or sleep properly, just the endless flow of the battle.
He saw Jeva sitting at the heart of a knot of her people across the square. How many of them had died in the fighting so far? They had thrown themselves into the battle with a ferocity that Thanos could barely believe, and yet here they were sitting and laughing in the aftermath as if nothing had happened.
There was something different about her as Thanos went over. Something changed. Thanos went to her and Jeva rose to meet him. The others there moved back from her as if in awe as Jeva went to clasp his hand.
“Thanos, my friend. We did it.”
“We did,” Thanos agreed with a smile. “Although we couldn’t have survived if you and your people hadn’t come to help us.”
Jeva laughed one of those strangely timed laughs of hers. “Helping people to survive. Another thing I’m sure they’ll call me a heretic for.”
Thanos had the feeling that there was a whole conversation there that he wasn’t a part of.
“They call you a heretic?” he asked.
He saw Jeva nod. “The dead told us that I would destroy my people if I brought them here.”
“And you still brought them?” Thanos asked, caught by surprise for a moment. Then he remembered. “But you don’t think about death that way.”
“I didn’t,” Jeva agreed. “Things are changing.”
“But your people are still here,” Thanos pointed out. Some had died in the battle, but that was impossible to avoid, when it came to battles. More had survived.
“There is more to come,” Jeva pointed out, and Thanos couldn’t hear the joy at the prospect of battle that might once have been there. “But even if things were to stop now, things have still changed for my people. I told them that I spoke for the living, not the dead. We are doing this to save lives, not to spend our own. Something has changed in us. The Bone Folk will not be what they were again, my friend.”
Friend. Thanos had never thought that he would make some of the friendships that he had. He had become friends with rebels and thieves, Bone Folk and warriors of the Northern coast. He had seen things he had never believed possible.
Ceres had been responsible for a lot of those.
“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Jeva asked. “Your face changes when you do.”
Thanos didn’t bother trying to deny it. “It’s just… where is she, Jeva?”
“Winning the battle for us,” the Bone Folk woman replied. She put a hand on his shoulder. “She will be here.”
Thanos hoped so. Ceres hadn’t stayed while the battle was still going. She’d gone from the beach to the hills to the city, faster than Thanos and the others could hope to keep up. She’d helped to break the main fleet here, but there had still been more to do.
Almost as though the thought had summoned her, Ceres was there then, stepping into the square while every face there turned to watch her. Thanos could only stare at her too, although not for the same reason.
She was beautiful; uncannily so, with a glow of power seeming to come from inside her that filled her. It made her seem like some magical being rather than the girl Thanos knew. She seemed different, and not just because of the power running through her.
One thing that hadn’t changed was how much Thanos loved her.
He wanted to run over to her then. Wanted to take her in his arms or throw himself down to his knees, proposing to her once more. She walked around the square, talking to the people there, and all Thanos could do was hope for the moment when she would come to him.
***
Ceres felt as though the whole world pulsed with every step she took around Haylon’s square. She could feel the people staring at her, in awe, or admiration, or even fear, but right then that didn’t matter. There were people she needed to talk to, and things that she had to do.
She went to her family first, because she needed to check that they were all right. Her father, Sartes, and Leyana were there together in one corner of the square, finding food in the aftermath of it all. Sartes rushed to her and hugged her.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” he said.
“We all are,” Leyana agreed.
Ceres was just glad that they had survived. Haylon had clearly not been a safe place to be in th
e last few days, and somehow she doubted that Sartes had been keeping to hiding places in the hills.
“You should go to Thanos,” her father said. “There will be time to talk later, but for now, he’s looking at you like he’s just seen the gods themselves arrive. Don’t make the boy wait any more.”
Ceres swallowed. She hadn’t thought it was so obvious. She’d fled the battlefield on the beach, and kept going around the island partly because there had still been more to do, and partly… well, partly because she didn’t know what to say to Thanos. Power should have made it easier, but it didn’t. It just made things more complicated.
Still, she went to him, and it just seemed natural to kiss him. She could feel his hunger there, and his need just to be close to her.
“I… there aren’t enough words for how I feel right now,” he said. “You saved us, Ceres.”
“We seem to make a habit of saving each other,” Ceres pointed out.
“I know there are going to be people wanting to talk to you,” Thanos said, taking hold of her. “Is it wrong that right now I don’t care?”
Right then, Ceres didn’t care either. She wanted to stand there just holding onto Thanos forever. She wanted to wrap the two of them in a bubble the way Lin and Alteus had been, just shutting out the world. Maybe this was why she’d been afraid of going to him before she’d finished what needed to be done. She’d been afraid of getting so swept up that nothing else could happen.
“It’s not wrong,” Ceres said.
There was no time though. Even now, Ceres could feel Akila coming up beside her. She forced herself to turn to face him, both because the fight needed to continue, and because he was her friend as well.
The rebels’ leader looked stronger than he had been, still leaning on Irrien’s blade, but doing it now with more confidence.
“You found what you were looking for, then?” Akila said.
Ceres nodded.
“That is good,” Akila said. “Maybe with that kind of power, we have a chance. I… I have been talking to people,” Akila continued. “I have seen how they react to you as well. General Haven is dead, and I can only ever represent the people of Haylon. We have people from the Empire here and Lord West’s lands, Bone Folk and who knows who else. We need to be able to draw together, at least for the fight. Maybe beyond that.”
Ceres frowned. “What are you saying, Akila?”
He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was. Akila had always been against people ruling just because they were the most powerful, or just because of their ancestors.
“I want you to lead here,” Akila said. “We all do.”
“Akila,” Ceres said, “are you sure? I’m just—”
“You’re the one who gives us a chance of winning,” Akila said. “More than that, you’re the one who can draw us together to fight. Do you think I can give orders to men from the Empire without them wondering if I’m trying to get them killed?”
“Akila is right,” Thanos said. “Haven told me that I wasn’t his prince. Jeva’s folk won’t trust anyone, but you helped to save her. You’re the only one who can do this.”
Ceres wanted to argue, but when she looked around, she could see all the faces turned her way. People were waiting for her to speak, to give them orders, to help them. She didn’t know if it was just the powers running through her, or everything that she’d already been through in this war, but the people there were already acting as if she was going to command them.
“All right,” Ceres said. “But if I’m giving orders, there are going to be a lot of orders. We need to repair the island’s defenses. We can’t rebuild the sea gates in time, so there’s no point in moving back into the city. We need to turn that into a killing ground, and fortify the beaches that were taken again. We can’t have them slipping around us once more…”
The orders went on, and Ceres felt Thanos’s hand slip into hers while she did it. She wished right then that there was enough time to talk properly; to go through everything they felt. Instead, there could only be hurried preparations and the work needed to make the island stronger. There were still too many things Ceres didn’t know when it came to Thanos, but when it came to the island, there was one truth that couldn’t be avoided:
More of Felldust’s warriors would be coming, and soon.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ulren watched his men tearing apart Delos’s castle, and he smiled while they did it. This felt far more satisfying than standing in the tower of the five stones in Felldust, watching the others refuse to acknowledge him. He’d won. He’d taken Felldust, he’d come here to the Empire, and he’d crippled Irrien, leaving him bleeding in a way that no man could survive for long. Even if he did, the former First Stone would never be able to hold onto his seat now.
Then there were the spoils of war. Ulren had expected to find a city picked clean, but instead, the castle was still filled with its treasures: gems, gold, art, women. Irrien’s foolish plan to move to the Empire and rule meant that he had left far too much in place for his enemies to take. Ulren would not make the same mistake.
“Tear it down,” he ordered, pointing to a rich tapestry. “I want it ready to ship.” He switched his attention to another man. “You, what news is there of Irrien’s forces?”
The warrior bowed. “The fleet around the harbor has largely withdrawn, First Stone. We are still fighting against pockets of resistance within the city, but it is only a matter of time before every one of them is dead.”
Ulren nodded in satisfaction. On another day, he might have offered Irrien’s men the chance to join his forces, but he wasn’t in a generous mood today. He wanted this victory to be total. He looked around at Stephania.
“You did well with your poison,” he said. “Although I would have preferred to see him dead before me.”
“If even a little of the poison got deeper into his body, he is a dead man,” Stephania replied. “It is just a matter of time.”
Time was the one thing that Ulren never felt as though he had. He’d spent so long now waiting for his chance to rule that he didn’t want to waste a moment now that he had achieved it.
“That is good enough,” Ulren said. “Irrien is done. I rule here now.”
“We rule now, husband,” Stephania reminded him.
As if he needed to be reminded. Stephania was his wife now, the ceremony complete, the moment witnessed. They had shared wine, shared a bed, shared victory over a hated enemy. Ulren had seen exactly how ruthless she could be, and he admired that about her as much as her beauty.
It was a pity he would probably have to kill her soon.
“Why are you taking everything to Felldust?” Stephania asked. “Delos can be the seat of our power just as easily.”
Ulren looked around with a sneer. “Delos? It is a weak place, full of weak people. You saw what happened when Irrien decided to rule here. It just left him open to challenges back in Felldust.”
“From you,” Stephania pointed out. Ulren couldn’t make up his mind if there was approval there or rebuke. It didn’t matter.
“From me,” Ulren agreed, “but how long will it be before Kas or Vexa decides to rise up in Port Leeward? No, try to rule here, and I will lose the throne that matters.”
The First Stone’s seat was the one that counted. Anything else was secondary. It was a prize to be taken if it was convenient, not a burden to carry until it made him weak. The good news was that this victory would cement his place as the First Stone. The others would take their rightful seats, and all would fear him.
“What do you intend to do then?” Stephania asked.
Ulren could hear her annoyance, though it was clear that she was trying to disguise her anger. She did a poor job of it.
“I will do what Irrien should have done,” he said. “I will strip this land bare of its gold and those who would make good slaves. I will return to Felldust with my shares of them, and the Empire shall function as a vassal state.”
He saw Stephani
a’s eyes narrow, just a touch. “That is not what we discussed.”
It wasn’t, but Ulren didn’t see why that should stop him. Stephania had given him a lot. She had provided a way into the city, and then a plan for taking it. She gave him the sense of being this place’s legitimate ruler the moment he married her. She had even played an invaluable role in bringing down Irrien.
She had, in short, given him everything she could already.
“It is not,” Ulren said, “but it is the safest way. We will return to Felldust, with you as my wife, and—”
“And you will let the Empire go in all but name?” Stephania snapped back. “This is the Empire. It is my empire. If I’d known you would do this, I would have gone to one of the other Stones. I would have taken one of the empty seats myself.”
She probably would have, Ulren decided. She had the strength for it, the lack of hesitation, and the cruelty. All she had lacked in Felldust was the resources. Ulren didn’t know if she would have been able to hold one of the other seats without support, but with all the resources that came from her marriage to him, she could probably do it now. She could probably sit right beside him in the Second Stone’s seat if she wanted.
It was the main reason that Stephania had to die soon.
That was a conclusion that Ulren had come to slowly. At first, he’d thought that perhaps they would have a long and happy life together. He’d thought that Stephania’s ambition and cleverness would be a perfect match to his own strength, and it might have been, if those things could be tamed.
He’d thought that Stephania’s ambition was like a blacksmith’s forge, set to shape the world. Instead, it was more like a forest fire that would never be sated until it had consumed everything. Such things needed to be dealt with while they still could, and Ulren would not make the mistake Irrien had. He would not spare her, or toss her out blindly. He would see her dead.
It was the only way to be safe. For now, though, he would continue, and pretend that all was well. He pulled Stephania to him and kissed her. He would enjoy being a married man while he could—and he would enjoy his triumph even more.