Brood of Vipers

by Maggie Claire

  “I will welcome my demise with open arms,” Ithel answers softly as he wipes his bloody blade on his pants. “After this week ends, I will probably be a friend of Death anyway.” The thought of watching Helena die in the tunnel plagues Ithel’s mind. He imagines her dying a thousand different ways, and in these fevered dreams, he sees his own final moments too. “You don’t realize it, but I really am trying to help you,” Ithel confesses in a whisper that fades away on the wind long before it ever can reach Helena’s ears. “You don’t know how much I love you still. Even after you betrayed me. Even after you left me to rot in this hellhole. Even after you chose someone else. I love you still, Helena. And I will do whatever it takes to make sure you survive.”

  ***

  “You sent for me?” Wren questions as he steps through the doorway into the pristine kitchens of the House of Piranhas. Someone had been busy this afternoon, and a pot of fish stew simmers on the stove, the pleasant aromas assaulting Wren’s nose. However, despite its tantalizing scent, Wren cannot focus on food. The sun had fallen from the sky hours ago, and with each passing breath, Wren worries over Lynx and her son. Did they make it past the guards? Are they safe out there alone? What if they encounter hostile nameless unchosen? Can they find their way to the Pith from here without a guide?

  “Yes, Wren. I believe we have some business to discuss.” Wolf points to the chair beside him at the long driftwood table, his voice as cold as the first winter snow. “I was hoping we could talk strategy and set up some rules for handling misguided allegiance.”

  He knows, Wren suspects, immediately reevaluating his strategy. Unease stiffens Wren’s legs, yet he disguises his fear easily. He saunters over to the chair and drops into a relaxed position, forcing his arms to remain uncrossed. Everyone always believed Wren had otherworldly powers of deception. Wren smiles easily at the memory, using the emotion to make him appear approachable. It’s all a matter of body language, he laughs to himself. A lie’s words are only half the deception; I’ve got to play the part. Keep my eyes and ears open for anything I can use to downplay Wolf’s suspicions.

  “What’s got you smiling?” Wolf barks, inspecting Wren’s expression closely.

  “I was just imagining my old House mates’ faces if they could see us together, discussing plans like old friends.” Partial truth to hide the lie. Wren smiles wider when he sees Wolf nod, convinced by Wren’s explanation enough to stop asking about it. Wren uses the advantage to open the dialogue, intending to appear innocent. “You mentioned earlier that you wanted a way to trap Iris.” Sometimes I even frighten myself with this act. Wren suppresses a shudder as he speaks of hurting the girl. While he’d go through the motions stoically, the idea of attacking anyone from his former house fills his heart with dread. “Are you wanting to kill her or just drive her back here to your arms?”

  “Actually, I’m more interested in your strategy right now, Wren,” Wolf replies, pointing to the door. Jackal stands with his arms crossed, and between his feet lies a limp, distinctly female body. Wren’s blood turns to ice as Wolf continues. “My commander informs me that you instructed Lynx to return to the Ddraigs. He overhead your plans to let her take her son and leave the House, reuniting with the traitors to my rule.” Wolf lifts his gaze until his eyes bore into Wren in a challenge. “Jackal made it sound like you even know where they will be hiding. Have you been keeping secrets from me?”

  Don’t panic, Wren assures himself, shaking his head and releasing the air pent up in his lungs as a plan takes shape. “Jackal! You bloody fool!” Wren uses his fear to spur him into acting furious. He stalks over to the wide-eyed commander and punches him hard enough to crack his mask. “How could you be so stupid?”

  “I…I don’t understand,” Jackal stutters, one hand rubbing his jaw. “What are you talking about?”

  “It was meant to be a trap!” Wren huffs, turning so that Wolf can witness one of Wren’s finest performances. His voice does not falter as he skillfully crafts his lie. “I mean, doesn’t it seem strange that Iris and the rest of the glorified thieves would leave one woman behind?”

  “You’re thinking she’s already a spy for the Ddraigs?” Wolf fills in the blanks, lowering his eyes to the shivering woman. “A mother and child would be unlikely—”

  “Exactly,” Wren interrupts, spinning the words to fit his agenda. “No one would suspect a new mother. We’d all fall into the trap, believing that Lynx would not endanger her child. No one would question her loyalty, and Lynx would be free to report on our whereabouts.” Wren stares at the cowering woman, forcing his eyes to clench in cold, detached assessment.

  “But how would she relay messages to the Ddraigs?” Jackal questions, his hands open at his side as he watches Wren pace. “How can you be so sure you are right?”

  “I don’t know I’m right at all,” Wren snaps, pausing for effect while he gathers his thoughts. “Unless the Ddraigs have allied with the nameless unchosen. I mean, we all know the nomads range far and wide across Cassé. What’s to stop them from sharing information on their travels?”

  Jackal nods as comprehension dawns across his features, believing the plausibility of the lie instantly. Wolf sits still, his expression impassive. “So, what do you suggest we do then, Wren?”

  Facing Jackal, Wren ignores the terror rattling his spine and demands, “What did you do with her child?”

  As soon as the words leave his mouth, Wren hears the gurgling of the newborn at his feet. Peering down, he sees the babe bundled in a shawl, held tight in his mother’s arms. Bending down, he eases his arms around the boy.

  “No! Don’t you dare take my son!” Lynx screams, jerking and writhing as she clutches for her child. “You rat bastard! I trusted you! I thought you were trying to help me!”

  “Your boy will be safe,” Wren assures, genuinely hoping his words are truth as he adds the necessary threat to keep Wolf from growing suspicious, “As long as you cooperate with us.” Please keep your mouth shut. Wren prays she will understand how he’s desperately trying to play both sides and keep her and her son alive at the same time.

  “You mean to use him as a bargaining chip,” Wolf smirks to himself, a new level of respect and wariness creeping into his mind. “I’m impressed, Wren. You’re as heartless as your reputation claims, aren’t you?”

  Wren ignores the leader, letting his cruel persona lift long enough to catch the frightened woman’s attention. The change in his demeanor gives her pause, hope filling her eyes as she waits for Wren to assist her. Leaning close to Lynx’s ear as he reaches for her son once more, he whispers, “Say nothing.” When he stands tall with her son in his arms, he allows himself to act once more. “I believe they both can be useful, Wolf. Iris will want her spy unharmed, and you will have two lives to trade for her secrets. And if we keep the boy alive, then we will have someone to hold over Lynx, making sure she stays in line.”

  Wolf nods once, and it takes all the strength in Wren’s abdominal muscles not to shout and praise every forgotten god of the land.

  “Jackal! Set up patrols with the rest of the army. I want all nameless unchosen in the proximity to be captured, questioned thoroughly, and executed for aiding and abetting the Ddraig rebels.”

  “At once, Wolf.” Jackal trots out the door, never once questioning whether or not Wren should be believed.

  “Wren, you are in charge of the child and Lynx.” Wolf crosses to the doorframe, pausing as he growls, “I have to admit that your story sounds plausible. Yet I know your reputation for being an impeccable liar. So, hear me, Wren, when I say that if I find out that you’ve lied to me about any of this, I will kill you myself. Very, very slowly.”

  “On your feet, Lynx,” Wren commands, one hand pressed to his lips in a gesture of silence. “We will go to your tent and pick up any basic supplies you need. You are moving in with me, so I can keep an eye on you at all times.” Wren winks once to assure the woman
, pointing to the door. “Now move!” he barks harshly.

  Lynx follows his orders, and as they pass the living room, Wren notices their fearless leader in the shadows, watching the scene for any signs of treachery. Breathing a sigh of relief, he keeps Lynx moving at a breakneck pace, hurrying away from the House of Piranhas as quickly as their feet can carry them.

  “Wren,” Lynx wheezes as they reach her tent. “Please tell me—”

  “Shut up, woman!” Wren bellows, raising a hand as if he intends to strike her. Lynx recoils, cowering low with her hands over her head. Hauling her up roughly, he shoves her toward the tent’s canvas folds. “Not out loud in the open like this,” Wren mumbles under his breath. “Eyes and ears everywhere.” He hopes his fragmented words are enough to explain their need for secrecy.

  Lynx grows pale, her cheeks turning wan as she understands. “Later?” Her lip trembles as she eyes her son.

  Wren nods once, understanding what she seeks. Tonight, he will find a way to explain his plan to her. One way or another, he will make sure Lynx and her son make it to safety. And the sooner it happens, the better.

  Chapter 3

  “For someone who’s so hell-bent on training the new Cadogans until they are dead on their feet, you sure are easy on yourself,” Siri snipes from her perch on a stony outcropping overhead. She’s been sitting up there all day, hurling her taunting insults at me as I attempt to harness my abilities as a Gwen to see the future. So far, I’ve only managed to give myself a headache.

  “This is different,” I spit through my clenched teeth as sweat drips down into my eye. “Mental training is much harder than physical.” With the sun beating down upon the blistering sand that’s sifted into the Pith caverns, I feel like I’m roasting over an open flame. My skin is starting to crackle and char, Siri. I need a break!

  “You need to learn to control your thoughts!” Siri barks back, all traces of humor fading from her demeanor. “Then you need to learn how to guard your mind. Right now, you’re practically begging any mind-reading magician to walk right in and steal your thoughts out of your head. Or worse, a skilled mage could manipulate your mind into seeing things that aren’t real. Do you want to spend your days chasing phantoms?” Siri stands up, pacing back and forth above me as she continues her rant. “What if you happened to be in the heat of battle when a real vision overtook you? Or what if someone deliberately planted a vision in your mind to lead you into a trap? What if they slipped into your thoughts and filled your mind with emptiness, blinding you to an attack? Do you think your enemies will fight fairly? Will they wait until it’s convenient for you?”

  “Of course not!” I bellow, my knees buckling and my pulse growing faint. “I know we’ve been lucky so far. But how do I force a vision?” I’ve been asking myself this all day long, and I’m still no closer to an answer than I was when I started. I snarl my fingers into my hair as a frustrated plea escapes my lips. “How do I control something this unreliable?”

  “I’ve been asking the same question of Suryc about my Asíle abilities. So, if you’ve come up with an answer, I’d love to hear it,” Cyrus mumbles as he staggers into view. His shirt is damp with sweat, and I see a bone-weary dullness in his glazed eyes. With the slightest breeze, I think Cyrus will topple into the sand and sleep for a week straight. Cyrus stares at me, and I practically feel his gaze raking over my skin. His mouth pinches together as if he’s just bitten something sour, and he plops down beside my Ddraig, feet dangling off the outcropping.

  My spine stiffens at his presence; the last thing I want is an audience for my repeated failures. I pick up a stone, planning to hurl it at Cyrus’s leg. Instead, I feel it tumble through my fingers, and I wince as the sharp edges rake across my bare feet before it thuds back into the dirt. Staring down at my toes, I watch my blood well up from the scratches. The sight carries my mind deep into a vision, my body dropping backward to the ground.

  Blood. Everywhere I look, I see it. Coating the floors, covering the walls, and staining my skin. I stagger, searching my body for signs of the injury. A hacking cough fills the air from beside me. Turning my head, I see Cyrus, his throat split open from ear to ear. His body still heaves, unaware that his soul is already claimed by Death. I can tell by the way his eyes have faded, their dilated pupils fixed on me, that he is gone.

  A sob rips from my throat, and my heart shatters as I claw my way closer to his side. I hear my voice wailing, the depths of my grief making my words unintelligible.

  Even though I continue to drag myself across the floor, my feet feel as though they are weighted by lead. Looking down, I see that there is a long, heavy chain securing me in place. Scanning the room, I search for signs of Wolf. Deep down, I know this must be his doing. “Where are you?” I whisper, struggling to keep my voice from cracking.

  “I never understood how you could choose him.” Wolf’s voice is as cold as iron as he steps out of an alcove on the left side of the room. “In all the time we spent separated, I thought about you. I obsessed about you; I literally went mad over you. What were you doing? Were you alive? Had you finally come to your senses? Were you searching for me? I pined for you, Iris.”

  “I know,” I wheeze, my stomach lurching as Cyrus’s body heaves its last sigh. All sound in the room seems to pause, the absence of his breathing louder than any scream. A part of my heart turns cold. Looking down on my hands, I see my Dadeni lines flickering on my arms, their white purity tangled by small, coal-black etchings. Cyrus and I have bonded; we are coupled. I’ve just lost my mate. The words ring in my mind, emptiness roaring into the silence that follows the thought. My love, gone.

  “Then, after everything went to hell, I find you in his arms,” Wolf continues as though he has not noticed his brother’s death, brandishing a long, spiked whip in my direction. He grips the leather so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I gave you everything you ever wanted, Iris. Didn’t I?”

  “It was never about you and me,” I whisper, tears shivering down my cheeks. I cannot tear my eyes away from Cyrus’s soulless body. The gash on his throat mocks me with its gruesome smile—“Just like the one you gave my father,” it seems to say. “You know my decisions were about—”

  “Those stupid Ddraigs!” Wolf interrupts with a snarl, his voice echoing off the walls like a howl. “Well, I’ve dealt with that problem too, haven’t I?” Wolf flourishes the whip with an audible snap, his mouth curling into a smile. “You’ll find that I am far better at keeping my word than you. I told you I would take out the Ddraigs. She put up a fight, Iris. You’d have been proud!”

  My stomach falls as my last shreds of sanity begin to crumble. I feel my mind breaking a minute before he confirms my fear. “Siri’s dead?” But I don’t hear Cane’s response. Instead, a dull roar engulfs my ears. Every sight before me becomes coated with a thin film of translucent blood, and a pressure builds so powerfully in my eyes that I fear they will pop out of their sockets. “No, NO! You rat bast—”

  Then the voices begin. Siri’s memories burst forth like an undammed spring. They fill me so quickly that I cannot follow any of them to fruition, passing through my mind at a breakneck pace. My emotions shift with each one: heartache, anger, fear, sorrow, ecstasy, grief, terror, panic. They pour from my heart, each passing second a different feeling. My mouth opens, but only a low moan escapes me.

  The last thing I see is the darkness in my skull as my eyes roll back into my head. Then my mind is too far gone to register any shred of my former self. At least in this insanity, I can forget my many failures….

  “Iris!” Cyrus’s hand slaps me hard across the face. Sputtering, I snap out of the vision with a cry.

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hold him fiercely close to me, reveling in the sound of his breath. In this moment, our confused relationship means little to me. The fact that he and Siri are alive is enough for me. It wasn’t real; he and Siri are still alive. I’m not going cr
azy.

  Cyrus’s hands brush my back strongly as he rasps, “My gods, you had us terrified! You went all pale and started screaming—”

  “And you vomited.” And wet yourself, I think, Siri adds privately to avoid more embarrassment. Her silver eyes seem to glow above me, hovering like an angel of silver fire over my head. I saw it all, she whispers with a grim frown. I’m sorry.

  Releasing my hold on Cyrus, I wipe my hands over my burning eyes, gasping for every strangled breath. Each part of my body feels raw, as though I’ve just been pulled out of a raging fire. “Are these truly glimpses of the only possible future, Siri?” I struggle to make my words understandable, my voice hoarse from my fear. My eyes keep fluttering between Cyrus’s concern and Siri’s shuttered expression. “Is there a way to change what I’ve seen?”

  “I don’t know,” Siri answers, her voice unconvincing and flat. “A Gwen is a rarity among our Cadogans. I can recall only one mentioned in our histories. Her powers were never detailed clearly, but I do know her visions were never wrong. Still, there are some Ddraigs in our ranks that are older than I am. I will see if they can recall anything I have forgotten.” She hurries off to do as she wishes, never looking back at me. I suspect she knows more than she’s shared, but I keep my mouth shut. I’m not yet prepared for any kind of bad news, my body still in shock from the intensity of this vision.

  “Everything seemed so real,” I mumble, wiping a clammy hand across Cyrus’s throat, tracing the place where his blood had poured. “You…you died right beside me. And Siri—”

  “She told me,” Cyrus whispers as his hand runs across my sweat soaked hair. “When you started screaming, Siri used your connection to watch what you were seeing, and she told me everything. I’m so sorry, Iris. That must have been a terrible thing to endure.”