Morgana and Rachael met them as they dismounted in front of the palace, both embracing their men. Cromwell swept Morgana into his arms despite the fact the large woman was heavy with child. Rufio held Rachael close as if he had been gone years. “Cromwell, you and Rufio have your reunions quick, then meet us inside. I don’t want to keep Malric waiting too long.”
Cromwell moved quickly despite being encumbered by Morgana, jogging past the servant boys leading the horses away and into the royal stable. “The Toran must want a quick romp in the hay,” Achillus said. Everyone laughed heartily but Rhys, who stood frowning with his arms folded.
They all filed inside, still amused by Cromwell’s escapades. K’xarr lingered for a moment watching as Rachael and Rufio talked on the steps of the palace.
He would miss the Dragitan’s steadfast loyalty and his keen eye on the battlefield. He wanted to try and talk him out of marrying Rhys’s sister, but who was he to ruin the man's happiness. The mercenary captain smirked and shook his head. Love was for poets and dreamers, victory and conquest were a true warrior’s concubines, and he planned to embrace his lovers often.
Rufio held Rachael’s hands and trotted up the steps of the palace to stand before him. “The war is over, Captain. We want to get married as soon as possible.”
Rachael smiled, and the delight in her eyes made K’xarr grin. She loved Rufio, of that there was no doubt. “We would like to do it tonight, Captain Strom. All I need to do is to talk to Rhys, I want him to give me away, and Morgana is going to stand with me. All I need to do is find a place for everyone to gather.”
“I will speak with the king. Perhaps Malric will let us use a room in the palace, would that please you?” K’xarr asked.
“What woman would not wish to take her vows in a palace?” Rachael said, squeezing Rufio’s arm.
“Then it’s settled. After we meet with Malric, I will turn my attention to getting you two wed. You are a lucky man, Rufio. You have a beautiful bride and a shining future ahead.”
Rachael blushed and her eyes filled with tears of happiness. “Thank you so much, Captain. I’m sure not everyone would be so magnanimous about losing an officer under their command.”
K’xarr clapped the Dragitan on the shoulder. “I was getting tired of him anyway, Rachael, it’s your turn to put up with this bastard for a while.”
Rufio grabbed K’xarr’s arm and nodded. They both knew no words were needed.
Cromwell jogged up the steps and stopped beside them.
“Where is Morgana?” Rachael asked.
“She still in the stable, said she needed to rest her legs for a while.”
Rachael’s face turned a deep shade of red.
K’xarr pushed Cromwell towards the palace doors. “Come, we should go. The sooner we get this over with the sooner I can get my lieutenant a wife.”
***
Gabrielle held her dress up to keep the hem from dragging as she ran up the stairs of the tower. Destiny told her Raven was on the top floor with Delilah. Her sister would have to listen. Raven could be stubborn, but deep down, her eldest sister had a heart. She would just have to find a way to get to it. Gabrielle knew what was at stake and the consequences of what she planned to do, but she cared little about either.
She had tried to stay away from the mercenary captain, but after she had seen him in Bandara, she could no longer deny her feelings. She had loved K’xarr the moment they had locked eyes, and knowing he didn’t feel the same changed nothing. She had been watching him since they had met. Gabrielle had even forgiven Raven for tricking him into impregnating her and keeping the child a secret from him. Maybe Delilah was an avenue that could be used to convince Raven to aid K’xarr? Her sister dearly loved her child. Maybe that would make her see her way clear to assisting the mercenary captain.
The witch passed the through the stone archway into Delilah’s room. Raven sat in a large chair looking out the window at the trees of the Bitter Forest looming in the distance. Their tower sat in the Wild Lands, just south of the forest’s border. The view was lovely, with the Grey Wall to the west and the forest to the north. They all loved the location of their enchanted home. Raven most of all.
The eldest of the witches smiled at her curiously. “By the gods, Gabby, you’re nearly out of breath. What brings you in such a rush?”
Gabriele took a moment to compose herself. She patted her little niece on the head, bringing a smile from the sweet little girl. “Malric is going to betray K’xarr and the others, he plots with the Church to see them all killed.”
Raven frowned. “How did you come by this information?”
“I have been watching. There is little time now, we must go to his aid,” Gabrielle pleaded.
“Have you lost your mind, sister? You know what kind of danger that would put us in, not to mention Delilah?” Raven pulled her daughter to her, wrapping her arms around the magical child. “If the gods found out that another witch had been born, you know what they might do. Helping Strom is out of the question.”
“Since Endra’s daughter Tressa was born without any power, Delilah only makes eleven. As long as we don’t number thirteen, we are in no real danger.”
Raven leaped from her seat. “You know the number is ten, it always has been. Do you really think they wouldn’t kill my daughter? It was all Father could do to keep the others from killing Destiny when she was born, look how long we have been trying for another. Would you risk everything to save K’xarr?”
“Yes, I love him.”
“Then you are a fool and you will get no help from any of us.”
“Then I will find an ally somewhere else.”
“You could end us all,” Raven screamed.
Gabrielle looked at her sister with grim determination. “Then let it end. I cannot do this anymore.” The witch stomped her foot and was gone.
***
The throne room was vastly different than K’xarr remembered it being the last time he had been here. The tables and maps were gone, the clutter from the makeshift war room had been removed, and the entire place had been cleaned and decorated more befitting a king than a general who had usurped the crown.
It looked much larger now that the mess was gone. Banners hung from the upper galleries around the room, the familiar rampant Wardog displayed in silver adorned them, the symbol of the Masarian royal house. Large blue drapes hung behind the throne, dropping all the way from the room’s internal balcony. A blue carpet trimmed in silver had been rolled out from the large doorway to the throne’s dais, like a pathway for anyone who would approach the king.
Malric’s appearance had changed as much as his throne room. Instead of a military uniform or armor, the king now wore a blue brocaded silk shirt and a matching ermine collared cape. His hair and beard were neatly clipped, and the crown of Masaria sat cocked to one side of the former general’s head.
The king looked distressed when his eyes fell on his general. “I didn’t send for you, Achillus, why are you here?”
Achillus looked confused by the king’s tart greeting. “I came to celebrate our victory, Your Majesty. The north is secured and the papal army has been driven beyond our borders. I left our forces in place should pope’s army find their courage again.”
The king and his general exchanged a strange look. K’xarr could see that Achillus was puzzled.. K'xarr didn’t know Malric well enough to say the man was acting strange, but it was clear that Achillus thought so.
Malric’s hands gripped the arms of his throne and he raised his chin. “You must excuse my surliness. Your presence was unexpected. Come here, Achillus, and stand before me.”
The Dragitan gave K’xarr a perplexed look and moved forward to stand at the foot of the dais. “You have done a magnificent job as always and you shall be rewarded after I finish with today’s business.” The king leaned forward and focused his attention directly on him. K’xarr was unsure of the monarch’s gaze, but he didn’t like it. “Now, Captain Strom, I sent for you a
nd Cromwell, not this entire entourage you saw fit to bring along.” Malric gestured to those who had come in with K’xarr.
“I didn’t think you would mind, Majesty,” K’xarr said courteously
“I don’t. It is you who might regret bringing them with you.” The curtain behind Malric shook and a priest with two hooded monks stepped out. K’xarr started to speak but movement in the throne room’s balconies caught his eye. He looked up as men with crossbows, who had been hidden behind the balcony's railing, rose. They wore the white and gold uniforms of the papal army.
At least twenty crossbows were trained on him and his friends, and the curtains behind the throne parted again. Twenty more soldiers from the Church stepped from behind the hangings to flank the priest. The holy man grinned like a drunk on his way to a brothel. “So this is the infamous Captain Strom,” the priest said mockingly. “I am Bishop Hanson Carter and you are prisoners of His Holiness, Pope Ammiel the First. Lay down your arms or I will have you cut down where you stand.”
K’xarr held his hand up so none of his people would move. Cromwell spit on the floor and gave Malric a look of pure hatred, but to the Toran’s credit, he held back. K’xarr knew if they moved, the men above them would fire without hesitation.
Malric stood up from his throne. “I am sorry, K’xarr. They agreed to legitimize my reign in exchange for you. How could I refuse? We could never truly defeat the Church. My war was a fool’s game, doomed from the onset,” the king finished with a shrug.
The bishop took a step away from the king, still smiling smugly. “Malric is correct, Captain. The pope made a deal with this mad dog for you black-blooded devils' heads, but he has changed his mind.” Bishop Carter raised his arm. A single crossbowman fired, sending his bolt into Malric’s back. The king lurched forward, falling to his knees and then rolling down the steps of the dais to land face down with the bolt still protruding from his back.
The bishop shook his head with a counterfeit look of sadness as his gaze returned to K’xarr. “I said lay down your arms, Captain, and we will make this quick. It would be much better for the women if you accepted your fate without any further unpleasantness.”
K’xarr glanced at Cromwell from the corner of his eye. The Toran gave him a grim nod. “Swords,” K’xarr bellowed. Crossbows twanged and bolts filled the throne room.
***
Silence and the goddess’s silver sword sprung from their scabbards, the witch’s sudden appearance had startled Kian and Syann. The goddess slowly lowered her weapon, but Kian kept the dark blade pointed at the sorceress’s throat.
“Gabrielle?” Syann touched Kian on the arm and the swordsman reluctantly lowered his sword.
The witch blinked. “Syann? I didn’t expect to find you here.” She gave the goddess a quick curtsy and looked at Kian. “I need the Slayer to come with me now, this very moment. We have no time to lose.”
She reached for Kian but he recoiled from her touch. “I want no part of you or your sisters.”
“K’xarr is going to die, as well as the rest of your companions, if you don’t go to their aid this instant.”
“What has happened?” Syann asked.
“Malric has betrayed them to the Church.”
Syann looked at Kian from the corner of her eye before answering the witch. “That is a manner for mortals, Gabrielle. We aren’t meant to interfere.”
“To hell’s fires with the Hesperina’s laws. I love K’xarr and I won’t stand by and see him killed by black treachery.”
Kian looked at Syann; the goddess blushed at Gabrielle’s admission and shrugged. The swordsman took a deep breath and lowered his brows. “How do I know this isn’t a trick, witch? I have never heard K’xarr speak of any great love for you or your sisters.”
“I didn’t say he loved me, I said I love him. Now take my hand.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Gabrielle glared at Kian and gritted her teeth. “He is my son.”
Kian looked to Syann the goddess reluctantly nodded her conformation. He grabbed the witch’s hand and they were gone.
***
The barrage of bolts had done their damage. K’xarr knew the one in his knee had all but hobbled him. The soldiers that had come from behind the curtains charged forward. Cromwell had a bolt in the thick of his neck, but had taken position at the foot of the stairs leading to the upper galleries, trying to prevent a group of crossbowmen from coming down to join in the fray.
He didn’t see Rhys or Rufio, but Endra was nearby fighting like a wildcat. The woman waded into their enemies fearlessly, heedless of the odds.
Achillus fought at the foot of the dais, the king’s fallen body at his feet. K’xarr struck right and left as quickly as his knee would allow. Crimson Wave sheared through armor and bone as easily as cloth, but there were just too many.
He saw that Rufio had grabbed Rachael by the hand. The two were running for the huge doors of the throne room as the crossbowmen released their second volley. Two bolts bounced off his armored back as the Dragitan tried to get his woman out of the room.
K’xarr watched them tug on the brass door handles. He knew it was futile, Malric would have had them locked from the outside.
K’xarr and Endra were being pressed hard on their side of the room. Cromwell had taken wounds from the crossbow fire and Achillus was surrounded by soldiers near the dais. Rhys was crawling away from the worst of the fight, a bolt jutting from each leg and one from his hip. He wanted to go to the healer, but there was no way he could break free. K’xarr heard Rachael scream as a papal soldier readied to strike the incapacitated healer. Rufio let go of the screaming woman and sprinted to Rhys’s side, burying his shortsword in the soldier’s belly and then adding a second thrust to his chest. He knelt down beside his soon to be brother in-law. The Dragitan winced as a stray bolt slammed into the right side of his breastplate. Rufio came to his feet and straddled Rhys, intending to defend the man from the oncoming soldiers. He avoided a cut to his head and thrust his sword through the neck of the papal soldier in front of him.
K’xarr cut another man down and met Rufio’s gaze. K’xarr followed his lieutenant’s eyes and saw Rachael standing like a child in the middle of the melee with death all around her. She was crying, her arms wrapped around herself and a frantic look on her face. He knew Rufio wanted him to go to her, but there was no way to shake loose of his own opponents.
The first flaming ball streaked across the room, but there wasn’t even time to cry out. The impact blew much of the flesh from Rachael’s body and she burst into flame before their eyes. She screamed in agony as the magic flame ravaged her. The gown she wore and her long hair burned away before the woman’s charred body finally fell to the floor. K’xarr would never forget the look on Rufio’s face or Rhys’s anguished cries.
K’xarr’s leaned his back against the wall, his helmet had been knocked off and he was bleeding from a score of minor wounds. Endra was beside him, still fighting like a madwoman and oblivious to the nasty cut on her arm. If not for her aid, he would have already been killed. Endra fought like a Viborg berserker. Wielding her sword above her head, gripping it with both hands, the shield-maiden rained ruinous blows on the papal soldiers brave enough to face her blade.
Gritting his teeth against the pain in his knee, he swung the red-bladed sword with as much strength as he could muster, cleaving the skull of another man that came against him. The men still using crossbows were having a much harder time finding their targets now that the battle was joined. It was a good fight now, though it was for nothing. The bishop’s hooded companions had unleashed magic against them and they would die, but before they left this world, they would leave a good account of themselves.
A flash caught his eye. One of the monks standing near the throne had let loose another of their dreadful fireballs. It streaked towards Endra. He moved as quickly as his wounded leg would allow. Gritting his teeth in pain, K’xarr pushed off his good leg and dove through the air, s
hoving the woman out of the flaming sphere's path. The blast took him in the chest, and the concussion bounced him off the wall like a child’s toy.
His beard and hair were burning and his ribs cried out in pain, but he lived. He patted his face, quickly dousing the flames. It was the armor he had taken from the Mistress. If not for it, he would be dead. He looked at his breastplate where the ball had hit. The metal wasn’t even scratched, it only bore a scorch mark from the sphere’s impact.
He lay on the floor, head swimming. His face hurt like hell and so did his leg. Time seemed to slow as he tried to refocus his attention on the battle. All the people he had come to call friends were about to meet their fate. They were all fine warriors, but what chance did they have against the bishop’s sorcerers? Jumping in front of the fireball had been foolish, he didn’t want to be the first to die.
Angry now, he tried to rise but the wound to his knee wouldn’t allow it. Using his sword as a cane, he pushed himself up. Hopping on one foot, he fended of an attack from a solider and ducked a cut to his neck. He brought Crimson Wave up through the man’s chin and out the top of his head. Off balance, he fell on top of the dead man and rolled on to his back as a stunning blast shook the chamber.
The huge doors to the throne room exploded inward. K’xarr thought he must have gone mad. Kian stormed through the smoking doorway, sword in hand and a witch floating above him with a blue flamed sphere in each hand. “You like fire? I will show you fire,” the sorceress’s voice boomed.
She hurled the blue fire into the balcony among the remaining crossbowmen. Their screams were ghastly as the enchanted blaze consumed them. The banners hanging along the upper galleries burst into flame, and the curtains behind the dais began to smolder. The room would quickly become an inferno. K’xarr heard a familiar roar, and he looked on as Kian walked toward the dais, fangs bared and cutting down the papal soldiers blocking his path like they were made of straw. A black sword darker than anything K’xarr had ever seen was clutched in his hand. It made the Camiran’s stomach turn just to look at the ominous blade as it rose and fell, butchering the pope’s men.
Song Of Fury (Gods Of Blood And Fire Book 2) Page 35