Arise

by Tanya Schofield

  Jovan ran a hand through his hair. “We will,” he said. “Duke Thordike’s not in a hurry, though. Semaj isn’t an immediate threat in the Eastlands, and winter’s only just started. Thordike’s not ready to try to move an army yet.”

  “He also wants time to train the magic users you’re awakening,” Rhodoban said. “The mages he has, though, don’t know what to teach. He’s asked me to help, and you, if you’re able.”

  “We could train them on the way,” Melody said. “Winter or not, we have to— oh!” Her hand flew to her belly and her eyes went wide at the sudden sharp pain deep within her. “Senna?”

  The Healer was on her feet in a moment - she’d seen the movement in Melody’s abdomen from across the room. Which was impossible. “Lie down,” she instructed.

  Another needling pain shot through her, and Melody took a deep, surprised breath. At her side, Jovan grimaced.

  “What is this?” he asked. “What’s happening?”

  Senna laid her hands on Melody’s stomach, and her frown deepened. “Is it moonrise?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  Rhodoban looked out the window to confirm. “Yes, but what—”

  Jovan drew the connection first, and stared at Senna as the realization dawned. “The baby?”

  “What’s wrong with the baby?” The alarm in Melody’s voice was not disguised, and they were all flooded with her fear.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Senna said, trying to resist the urge to panic. She watched both Melody and Jovan wince in unison as the baby moved again. “He’s just—”

  “He’s a werewolf?” Rhodoban, too, suddenly understood.

  “What?” Melody propped on her elbows, looking down at her belly and back up at Senna. “Is that even possible? How?”

  “But she beat the curse,” Rhodoban said. “She broke the fever.”

  “In a sense,” Jovan remembered. “She … surrounded it. I was there,” he reminded Senna. “We were connected.”

  “It was like fire,” Melody said. “I couldn’t extinguish it, I couldn’t remove it, so … I made it smaller, I surrounded it with water…”

  “You didn’t know you were pregnant,” Senna realized. “You didn’t cure the fever, you transferred it.”

  “To the baby?” Melody’s dismay pushed into each of them, along with the sharp, needling pain growing in her abdomen. “I did this?”

  “No,” Senna corrected her. “Aggravain did. Breathe.”

  “Is that why she felt so strange before?” Jovan remembered Melody’s heat, and hunger, and desire. “Even though she didn’t change?”

  “It’s possible.” Senna let her own magic tell her what was happening inside of her friend. “I’ve never actually known anyone to be pregnant with a werewolf before.”

  That wasn’t entirely true, she realized. Anna had been pregnant, it was early pains that had sent her to her sister, who had sent her in search of Aggravain … the night she had been killed.

  Melody gasped again, her fingers clenching in the blankets.

  Senna felt the baby’s movement as well, and her face went pale. “Whatever and however it happened, this baby is hurting you,” she said. “He’s still small—”

  “Senna, why can I feel him? It’s too soon, isn’t it?” Melody laid her hand beside Senna’s on her belly. “You only told me I was pregnant right before we left Gira.”

  Senna frowned. “You were a month or so along,” she agreed. “But now—” If she had to guess, Senna thought, she’d say this baby was well into the fourth month. Anything earlier and he wouldn’t be developed enough to do any harm. Had this been what happened to Anna?

  “I don’t know,” Senna admitted. “He’s bigger than I’d expect, anyway. Maybe small enough that I might be able to keep up with the damage he’s doing in there. This time.” The implication hung in the air as Melody took a deep, pained breath and clutched at Jovan’s hand.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Rhodoban asked.

  “Nothing yet,” Senna said. “This might go on all night.”

  The moon was at her peak when Senna, exhausted from her efforts, suggested they bring Melody to the Keep. “I can’t do it,” she told Jovan, defeated. “Not alone. The damage is nearly constant, and my Healing usually takes time. She needs more Healers, and Thordike’s got them.”

  “It’s all right.” Dark circles under Melody’s eyes betrayed her own fatigue. “Thank you for all you’ve done.”

  “We should go now,” Senna said, rubbing the ache of concentration from her eyes. “He’ll be active for a few more hours, at least, and that’s enough time to cause real harm. I just can’t—”

  “Stay.” Jovan stood, offering his hand to Melody. “It’s all right. Get some rest, we’ll go to the Keep.”

  “No,” Senna refused. “I’ll need to explain what’s happening, show them what to do.”

  Not that she truly understood what was happening herself, Senna thought as the three of them descended into the deserted common room and out into the street where a light snow was falling. No, the only one who might have answers was Aggravain, and he wouldn’t return until the sun was up.

  Melody insisted on walking, and with several breaks to let her breathe through the rapidly increasing pains, they were able to make it to the Keep before the weather worsened. The Guards, however, refused to let them in, explaining that the Healing Center was by the city gate, and they would have to wait until morning to see anyone. They were inflexible. Nothing Jovan or Senna said could convince them that Duke Thordike knew them, or that he would want to help them.

  It took Melody’s voice, uncontrolled and steeped in pain, to spur them to open the door, and she didn’t wait before using it on the steward as well, imploring him to get Thordike, get a Healer, get anyone. With a small groan, her knees went too weak to support her, and Jovan gathered her into his arms.

  “Hold on,” he told her, looking for somewhere to lay her down. “They’re coming.”

  “Here.” Senna beckoned him to the receiving parlor. She pointed at the chaise.

  “There’s blood,” he said, alarmed, seeing the streaks on his sleeve from where he had carried her.

  “Is he okay?” Melody asked, her hands on her belly. “Senna?”

  Senna knelt by her side. “He’s fine, Melody. You will be, too.”

  “What’s going on here?” Duke Thordike was still tying his robe over his dressing gown when he came into the room. “Simon said someone was— oh!”

  “Where are the Healers?” Senna asked. “Are they coming?”

  “Here.” Lady Marina ushered in two women - all three of them were also in their night clothes. “They’re here.”

  Jovan and Thordike stood to one side as Senna explained what was happening to the sleepy-eyed Healers in a low, hurried voice.

  “Wait, she’s pregnant?” Duke Thordike asked, catching some of the words.

  Jovan nodded. “It’s more complicated than that, but yes.”

  “You’d best explain it then,” the Duke said, moving to a pair of wing chairs by fireplace. “Sit.”

  “I don’t understand everything,” Jovan admitted, “but the baby … is a werewolf.” It sounded ridiculous to even say aloud, but Thordike took it in stride.

  “So it’s the other one’s, then? I assumed it was yours.”

  “It is,” Jovan said. “Mine, I mean. It’s Aggravain’s curse. He bit Melody, and somehow …” He trailed off, uncertain how to explain what he didn’t fully grasp. “The baby changed with the moon. It’s hurting her, and Senna couldn’t heal her fast enough.”

  Duke Thordike rubbed his mustache thoughtfully. “She can’t heal herself?” he asked. “If she’s as powerful as you say—”

  “Her power has limits,” Jovan said, though he was beginning to have his doubts about that. “And risks.” He remembered how distant she had been earlier, how intensely she had not wanted to return. He stared at the gently glowing coals in the fireplace, lost in thought.

&nb
sp; “This changes things,” the Duke said. “Semaj is still a threat. I still need capable magic users.”

  “You’ll have them,” Jovan promised. “Only the timing has changed. We have to bring the fight to Semaj, and we have to do it immediately.”

  “With her like that? I don’t think so, son.”

  “This is the last night of the full moon,” Jovan reminded him. “That gives us a window.”

  “There’s no way to get an army to Cabinsport before the next full moon, Jovan. Not with all the magic in the world.”

  “It gives us a start,” he insisted. “If Melody can bring in more magic users as we travel, who knows what powers they could have? They might be able to help her, or us. We have to try, Duke.”

  Thordike sighed. “The snow will be a problem,” he said. “It will slow us down. But,” he continued, holding up a hand to stay Jovan’s protests, “if the weather doesn’t worsen, I can get us moving in a few days.”

  Jovan nodded. “That should be enough,” he said. “We’ll want to stop at the larger towns, get as many magic users in one place as we can.”

  “How does that work?” Thordike asked, looking over at Melody. “What does she have to do?”

  “She sings,” Jovan said. “The magic is in her voice. I imagine you’ll get plenty of new users tomorrow,” he added. “Judging by the crowd that heard her today.”

  “Will they be any more skilled than yesterday’s?” he asked. “Or know why they’re coming to me? Not that I’m ungrateful …”

  “Melody and Rhodoban can train them on the way,” Jovan said. “The important thing is getting them.”

  “No,” Duke Thordike said. “The important thing is feeding them. And equipping them. And seeing they don’t freeze to death on the march. That’s my job.”

  “We’ll help however we can,” Jovan offered.

  “Let’s just get through tonight first,” Thordike said.

  15

  “Enter.” Jayden Korith didn’t look up from the room’s tiny excuse for a desk when the knock came at the door. He’d been writing almost non-stop since they’d arrived in the city of Tregon.

  “Excuse me, Duke. I have a message for you from Duke Thordike?” The young man stepped in and held up a folded parchment.

  Korith beckoned him in. “Will there be anything else?”

  The messenger stood at attention. “I am to wait for a reply, Duke Korith.”

  Jayden nodded. He scanned the letter, scrawled his reply, and handed it back. “You’re dismissed,” he said, returning his attention to the documents before him.

  The young man, noticing Bethcelamin sitting quietly in the chair by the fireplace, bowed politely. “Good evening,” he said, taking his leave.

  “Thordike has requested my company,” Jayden said, waving the latest parchment in the air to speed the ink drying.

  Bethcelamin looked up from her embroidery, but said nothing. Silence, he had insisted. Silence and obedience.

  “He’s asked after your health. His wife requests you visit with her tonight,” Korith continued. “The witch will be singing in the larger inn, I’m told. She’s the reason we’re here instead of halfway to Porthold. Would you like that?”

  “I would,” Bethcelamin said, honestly. She hadn’t spoken with Marina since … well, since before they’d left Estfall. The only contact she’d had was with Bashara, and those conversations were strained by the weight of everything Beth couldn’t say. “If that’s all right with you,” she added.

  “I wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise,” he snapped, folding and sealing the letter he’d finished. He held it up, making sure she saw it. “It’s important that Thordike not be distracted by foolish concerns, Beth. Do you understand?”

  His meaning - and threat - were clear, and she nodded.

  “I’m sure after your visit this evening, the Lady will have no further inquiries about your well-being?” Korith put the letter in his saddlebag with the others.

  “She will not,” Bethcelamin agreed, setting her embroidery to the side and getting to her feet. “Thank you.”

  “This is not a gift, wife. It is a test. See that you pass.” He extended his arm and she took it, keeping her eyes lowered as they walked through the crisp air to the city gate and out to Thordike’s tent.

  “Absurd,” he scoffed as they approached. “Staying out here with the soldiers. He is a Duke, by the Lich, he could have his pick of lodging in the city.”

  Bethcelamin held her tongue, though she believed the men respected Thordike more for his choice. Not that Jayden knew anything about earning respect. He simply demanded it.

  “Ahh, welcome,” Donnel Thordike said, standing to greet his guests when they were ushered in. “I’m glad you’re here.” He bowed to Bethcelamin. “I trust you’re feeling better, Lady Korith?”

  She did not release her husband’s arm when she dropped into a curtsey that sent spasms through her back, which ached almost constantly now after more than a week sleeping on the ground beside the bed.

  “Yes, Duke Thordike, thank you. I am much improved,” she said with a smile she didn’t feel. “Winter always seems to bring me one ill or another.”

  Lady Marina swung her cloak around her shoulders and reached for Bethcelamin’s hand. “It’s lovely to see you out and about again, my friend. Would you like to warm yourself by the fire before we go to the inn?”

  Bethcelamin glanced at Jayden, then released his arm to take Marina’s outstretched hand. “The walk will warm me well enough, I think,” she said, hoping she’d understood the slight shift in her husband’s expression. She didn’t know how much more of his disappointment she could endure.

  “Wonderful.” Lady Marina smiled, kissing Bethcelamin’s cheek. “Let’s go see what all the excitement is about.”

  When the women had left, Thordike motioned for Jayden to sit. “Wine?” he asked. “To combat the chill?”

  Korith would have preferred whiskey, given the fresh ache behind his eyes, but warm spiced wine was all Thordike ever offered. “Yes, thank you,” he said, adjusting his cloak while Thordike poured the drinks.

  “I trust you neglected to summon your troops as I requested?” Thordike began, taking his own seat. “I shouldn’t expect them to meet us in Porthold?” He watched Korith over the rim of his goblet. A brief flicker of anger on the other man’s face was quickly replaced with a smooth smile.

  “I did send word for them to be ready at a moment’s notice,” Korith said. “It seemed a waste of resources to bring them all the way to Estfall only to march them back to Cabinsport.”

  “As angry as I should be, Korith, it seems your obstinance has served us well.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Jayden took a swallow of the warmed wine. “We’re heading for Epidii, then?”

  “Close to it. We’re taking the fastest route possible, with as few initial troops as we can get by with. Speed is of the essence—”

  “Hardly.” Duke Korith snorted, shaking his head. “We’d be halfway to Porthold by now if that were true.”

  “You don’t have to like it, Korith, but we need magic users to fight this enemy. Melody provides them, but she can’t transform townspeople without going to towns.”

  “At what cost?” Jayden asked. “Nothing is free, Thordike.”

  The Duke took another swallow of wine. “In truth, all she asks is protection from you,” he said. “I consider it a fair bargain.”

  Korith rolled his eyes. “You’re a fool to trust her,” he said. “Any of them. But,” he continued, holding up his hand to stay Thordike’s reprimand, “if that is what it takes to defeat Semaj once and for all, I will support you as needed. I have already lifted the price on your witch’s head. She and her people need fear no harm from me.”

  “Said with the same sincerity as ‘I will send the messenger this very night,’ I’m sure.” Thordike sighed. “Your lands are in greater danger than mine, Korith. I wish I could trust that you cared enough to work together in m
ore than appearance.”

  “I will point out that I did, in fact, send a messenger that night.” Korith finished the wine. A brief spike of pain made his eye twitch and water, but it disappeared almost immediately. “I concede your point, however. The messages I’ve been receiving about events in the west are alarming, at best. Semaj’s forces are taking advantage of the weather, attacking under cover of snow. We’ve lost too many to his armies.”

  “That’s why we’re gathering as many magic users as we can before we reach Porthold.” Thordike rubbed at his mustache. “It will get worse as he gets stronger. It may already be. I’ve had no word from the city in days. ”

  “Neither have I,” Duke Korith said. “Let’s hope your witch delivers.”

  “Are you nervous?” Jovan finished adjusting the laces of Melody’s new dress, and she turned to look up at him. The yellow fabric made her eyes shine more gold than copper, he thought.

  “A little,” she confessed, running her fingers over his tunic. “I think I liked it better when I sang from the corner.”

  “This was your idea,” he reminded her.

  “I know. It’s better if I can see them, but …”

  “Senna will be right there with you,” he said. “The rest of us will be between you and the crowd. All of us. You’ll be as safe as I can make you.”

  “I wasn’t the one in danger last time.”

  Jovan sighed. “Melody …” He wished Gage had kept his mouth shut and never mentioned the trapper they’d found dead back in Estfall, after her performance with the bard. He also wished Aggravain hadn’t pointed out that it wasn’t the first death on her hands. The guilt was eating her alive.

  "I killed that man, Jovan. Me.”

  “We’ve talked about this, Melody.” Jovan remembered the shock on her face when she learned the man had been frozen solid, and he remembered her tears as she confessed she was responsible, that she hadn’t realized what she was doing. “You did what you had to do.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.” The man would have turned everyone to ice just to see if he could, she had told Jovan that, she could see it, but she never meant—