by Susan Faw
His plan had been working like a charm. Infiltrate the provinces. Place people loyal to him at their hearts. Blend them into the power circles and have them become part of the respected hierarchy, one of the movers and shakers in their respective communities. The depth each splinter had penetrated was different, their covers dependent on their talents, so they were difficult to spot as being the traitors they were. Some went silent for years, such as Commander Gaitain. He had actually married the witch who was the target in Bastion. Madrid had thought it a master stroke as Gaitain’s loyalty had been unquestionable. Fury bubbled up within him once more, and he clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. He would not abide such betrayal. Now he must go back and check on all his operatives to assure himself of their loyalty. The delay it would cause was unacceptable.
As he rounded the corner, a uniformed man straightened, and one look at the rictus pressing of lips on Madrid’s face was all he needed. He snapped a sharp salute, fist to heart. Commander Cayos was a broad-shouldered and lean Citadel-trained guard, approaching fifty years of age. His short-cropped hair was liberally sprinkled with grey, and his eyes crinkled in the corners from squinting into the sun for most of his life. Cayos was one of four commanders who served the Citadel and was Citadel trained. Tasked with keeping the peace between the provinces, the captain of the guard was loyal to the Citadel, first and foremost. On induction into the elite company, they rejected all past allegiances and bound themselves with an oath that was reinforced by the magic of the Citadel.
Cayos finished his salute with fist in air and then fell into step beside the emperor.
“Report.” Madrid did not pause, nor did he look in Cayos direction.
“My lord, the bearers of the crystal hearts have all been located. There are no females amongst them. Only the males remain on Gaia. We are sure of this. Every female heart bearer has been taken.”
“And the young men? You have secured them and their parents?”
“We have secured the boys, yes. Some were delivered to the Citadel by the councillors mostly those wishing to curry favour with you. A few we had to hunt down, but we have them. They are being escorted to the Citadel as we speak.”
“How many of their relatives were you able to arrest?”
“A couple dozen, my lord.”
“Separate them from the children. The young men are to be taken to a special barrack I have had built on the twentieth level. You will be in charge of their training, Cayos. Their relatives will be my guests in the dungeons to await my pleasure or until we have gained the cooperation and obedience of the young men.”
“But, my lord, wasn’t Commander Gaitain supposed to train the young men? Forgive me for questioning your orders. I am simply surprised.”
“Commander Gaitain has been…delayed. We cannot wait for him to return. He may not return.”
“As you command, my lord. By your leave, I will go prepare for the children.” At Madrid’s nod, Cayos saluted once more and strode away down a side passage that led back to the main staircase. Madrid watched him go until he disappeared around the curve of the hallway. Then Madrid entered his chambers, pushing open the double doors with a hand to each round brass pull. He tugged on a braided silk cord that hung from the ceiling just inside his door. A faint tinkling of bells sounded, and immediately a woman entered in the black and gold livery of the Citadel from a small door set in the paneled wall to his left. The woman’s hair swung forward and fell across her face on its wild journey to the floor as she knelt at the edge of the tufted carpet, her head bowed.
“What is my master’s pleasure?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“Bring me a writing desk, paper and quills, and my personal seal.”
“Yes, my lord.”
She rose gracefully to her feet and paused when Madrid said, “And return them to me. Naked.”
She blushed, but her voice remained even. “Yes, my lord.” She continued out the side door, closing it quietly behind her.
Madrid watched the sway of her hips as she left the room, and the leering smile faded from his lips. Even his usual game of cat and mouse with the female servants failed to lighten his mood. He wandered into his sitting room, a massive chamber with tall windows and an unlit fireplace sandwiched between them. Directly across from the fireplace sat an overstuffed couch in a garish plaid pattern of reds and yellows with green pillows. He had never sat in it, preferring the tall-backed cow leather chair with matching ottoman. On the ornate side table was a crystal decanter full of a deep amber whiskey and two cut crystal tumblers.
Instead, he went to the highboy and pulled open the upper cabinet doors. Inside was a plain clear milk bottle with a well-used cork, resting on a lace edged doily. He pulled out the bottle, popped the cork and downed the pale pink potion in four swallows. The potion was chalky with the bitter aftertaste of sour cherries. Grimacing, he placed the empty bottle back in the highboy and closed the doors. With a sigh, he sat down in his favourite leather chair and unstoppered the whiskey. He poured a thumb into each of the two glasses and waited, trying to swallow away the last lingering taste of the regrettable drink. He shuddered as the potion took hold, firming his skin and tightening his muscles. He picked up the tray on which his whiskey usually sat and stared at his murky reflection. The droop under his eyes faded away as he stared into the blurry image.
“My lord?’
So absorbed he had been in his appearance, that he had not heard Carissa re-enter the room. She was dressed in nothing but her long pale hair which clung to her form like a blanket, ending well short of her knees. She carefully arranged a few stray strands, her turquoise eyes shining, the writing desk clutched protectively to her chest.
He placed the tray back down on the table and picked up a glass of whiskey.
“Exchange?” he smiled, proffering the glass. Silently, she handed him the writing desk and took the glass of whiskey with a trembling hand. Madrid settled the writing desk on his lap, pulled out paper, quill, and ink, and began to write.
Carissa sat on the edge of the footstool and waited, sipping her whiskey.
Outside, a cock crowed the hour.
Madrid melted wax over the fold of parchment and pressed his seal into the wax, then set the writing desk aside and focused on Carissa.
“Carissa.” When her eyes met his, he said, “I would make you my bond mate. This is not a sexual thing. It is even more intimate. Becoming my bond mate is a merging of both minds and bodies. Would you consent to such a thing?” His eyes roved her body, thinking about all the possibilities. It was important that she choose this. His lips widened into his most winning smile, revealing perfectly straight teeth.
Carissa stared at him. Surprise flitted across her creamy complexion. Many a man had desired her for her body, but this was the first who had truly wanted her for her mind. To be free of the grasping hands of the councillors, to be set above the others had a great appeal, and to be bonded to the emperor would make her untouchable. She had no family, there was no one to care for her. Slavery was her only option, to live out her life as a servant in the Citadel. If she could rise above that with this simple act, how could she refuse? Her eyes searched his features, taking in the face carved to perfection. No one had teeth that straight and especially not her. Hers were crooked, and the only thing that marred her beauty.
There was something strange about the emperor. She knew it, for she had seen his bouts of weakness, the sudden attacks when only the witch’s brew could calm the raging of his blood. She felt a certain pity for him, even while she knew his base nature to be cruel. In the end, what choice did she have?
Carissa rose to her feet and set the glass on the end table, then knelt once again in front of Madrid and stared him boldly in the eye. “I would consent to being your bond mate, my lord.”
“Excellent! Give me your hand.” Madrid pulled open a drawer beside the table and pulled out a short, sharp knife with a silver blade and handle. The knife glowed and not just from the streams of s
unlight from the setting sun that lit the room. Carissa, physically pure and undefiled, placed her unspoiled heart and her hand into his. He turned it to face palm up. “This is going to sting a little, but only for a moment.” Carissa nodded, heart racing at his words. With a gleam in his eye, he took up the knife and slit her wrist. Carissa’s mouth opened in a scream, even while Madrid slit his own wrist and grasped her arm with his hand, merging the free flowing of their blood. He leaned forward and clasped his mouth over hers, silencing her scream and breathed into her mouth. The world shook and with a clap of thunder, Madrid’s body became smoke and his essence flowed into Carissa until he vanished. With a jolt, she sat straight up, her back arching and her eyes shot open. Madrid’s black eyes flickered behind her blue. The cut on her wrist healed, the skin mending together flawlessly, leaving no trace of a scar. She rose to her feet and smiled her teeth perfectly straight and gleaming. She picked up the tray to gaze at her reflection, even more beautiful than before. Madrid shared her gaze.
Excellent! Thank you, my mate. This is much more intimate, more sensual than any animal type paring. Now let us explore the world from your perspective. We will not always be this close. But we will share a mind from now on. You are truly beautiful, inside and out. I can bring you much pleasure, Carissa, but I can also bring you much pain. You must always do my bidding without hesitation, as though the thought was your own.
Carissa felt a joy in the bonding and trembled slightly. Thank you, my lord. I will do as you command.
Let’s go for a walk. I’d like to hear what people are saying that they will not say to my face. Madrid rejoiced in the pairing. He could not have chosen better. Carissa had free rein of the Citadel with no worries of confrontation, and he could leave at any time, free to resume his image to the world. Shapeshifting was so much easier with a host body to work from. He had forgotten how much harder it became when one was alone. Perhaps I slew my previous host too soon. His consciousness jerked back to the present with a snap as Carissa spoke to his mind.
As you command, my lord. Hips swaying, she left the rooms by the servant’s door and slipped into the clothing hanging on a peg in the dark hall. It was time to explore the Citadel without the groveling that came with his other body.
Chapter 17
Commander Cayos
COMMANDER CAYOS UNLOCKED a heavy wooden door with a skeleton key he kept on his person for just that purpose. It opened onto a wide hallway of smoothed stone block with a curving ceiling. Tiny arrow slits cast limited light into the passage, bars of light and dark decorating the floor. He blinked, and bright light flashed behind his eyelids. The light blinded the eye to the darkness between stripes. He disliked the corridor, for it assumed that all dangers were from without and ignored what could be hiding in plain sight. He pushed the glowing torch in his hand in front of his body, keeping his sword hand free. Caution kept a soldier alive, and he was not foolish enough to believe that the emperor’s enemies wore badges announcing their allegiance. The council chambers were a viperous pit, and who knew where the servants’ loyalties lay or who had been bought by whom. No, to keep one’s head, one had to always expect the unexpected.
The corridor curved around the outer wall then crossed from one tower to another. A stiff breeze howled in the slits, whistling as it passed. Despite the warmth of the spring day sun, at this altitude the wind was always cold. A raven cried, and its shadow darkened the light as he walked down the passage. At the far end, a matching door blocked the entrance to the short, flat-topped tower. Cayos unlocked the door and pulled it open to reveal a barrack-style room furnished with ten beds and matching tables set with oil lamps, an identical throw rug warming the floor by each bed and pegs set in the stone wall for hanging clothes. The sleeping chambers were separated by cloth partitions. In the center of the room, a fire blazed in a large brazier, warming the space. The ceilings disappeared into inky blackness, and the occasional rustle of wings announced birds or bats nesting in the stone cavities above his head. Along an inner wall, a rack of swords hung with matching shields. Greaves for legs and arms, and tunics of thick boiled leather and linen undergarments hung above rows of polished boots. Off to the right, a row of showers and a latrine with a flushable water system were hidden behind a pair of swinging barn-style doors on springs. The fresh smells of lemon oil and beeswax filled the air. The floor had been scrubbed clean, erasing the long years of disuse. The cleaning staff had worked through the night, polishing the furnishings and preparing the chamber for its new inhabitants.
This barrack was for the young men who bore the crystal hearts. It had sat empty since the Great Purge. With the elimination of the witches, there had been no more dragons, and so the training tower had fallen into disuse, but the dragons were back, if the emperor was to be believed. Legend said that only those chosen by the crystal heart could subdue and control a dragon.
Cayos cracked his neck then straightened, standing at the ready, his hand poised over the hilt of his sword. Magic in any form made him uncomfortable, and there was no doubt in his mind that magic was at play. The young wizards were his charge, but it made his skin crawl to think of dealing with such subversive forces on a daily basis. Thankfully his duty was to teach battle techniques. Commander Gaitain would take over their magical training when he returned. That had been his charge, and Cayos was never more thankful that he had received the commission for teaching the simple expedient of how to kill something mortal.
At that moment, a babble of high-pitched voices, interspersed with some deeper tones, reached his ears. Cayos turned toward the gently sloping ramp that fed to the barracks level far back in the chamber.
A bobbing light reflected off the curve of wall and extended to spill out into the room. A tall grey-haired woman with her hair tied into a neat bun at the back of her neck entered the room. Her livery was a navy-blue dress covered with a white apron that came to the top of her ankle boots. The apron was decorated with a stylized dragon in silver. Behind her came the babbling boys, excitedly pointing out every feature of the room before they even reached the threshold. Voices drifted to his ears the closer they came.
“…swear it’s true! Dragons live here. This is the dragon tower!”
“No, it isn’t! Dragons are extinct. They use this tower for advanced weapons training for the Citadel Guard. My pa told me it was so. My pa knows everything.”
“No, he doesn’t ’cause he is wrong! It’s dragons, I tell you! I saw them with my own eyes.”
“Liar!” Laughter echoed in the corridor.
The matron turned, blocking the entrance. “Enough foolish talk,” she said, waiting for their raised voices to wane. When quiet had descended, and every eye was focused on her, she said, “Now. You are to be turned over to Commander Cayos who is a decorated Citadel Guard. He will be one of your instructors. He is a master of arms. You will obey him without question. Understood?” When each of their heads had bobbed in agreement, she continued, “I will return at dawn and at dusk to assure that all of you are accounted for. The door to the barracks will be unlocked and locked at these hours for your protection. Now follow me.”
She stepped into the room and led them to where Commander Cayos stood at the ready. “Commander, may I present the crystal heart bearers. These are your charges.” She curtsied and stepped aside.
“Thank you, Tiguan. I will take it from here.” Commander Cayos studied the trainees, all of whom appeared to range in age from twelve to sixteen or seventeen. They varied in height and build, skin and hair colour, a true cross-section of the world of Gaia. Every province was represented.
The young men milled around, taking in the room and its furnishings. The ten young men were of every shape and size and wealth, as shown by their varied clothing.
“First order of business is that you will all strip and take showers. Once you are cleaned up, you will put on a set of the clothing hanging just inside the doors. Your old clothes will be brought to me here. You have minutes to accomplish this task.
If you are not back here within five minutes, you will do fifty laps around the barracks. Your time starts now!” Cayos barked out the command, and the young men, taken unaware, stared about in confusion. “Move!” he bellowed.
They ran to the showers, peeling clothing off as they ran. They jammed at the doors and pushed each other aside in the scramble to reach the showers. The sound of running water and gasps about the cold, mixed with a few localized curses met his ears and Cayos grinned.
“Four minutes!” Cayos yelled, watching the angle of the sun and the pattern it made on the floor. When the shadow reached a certain spot, he yelled, “Three minutes.” Then “Two minutes.”
The cursing was much louder. “One minute!” The first boy stumbled out of the doors, barefoot and still buttoning his pants. The clothing he had chosen was too small, and his ankles poked out the bottom. Two more young men tumbled out the doors, buttoning shirts, and the fourth boy was holding his pants up by the waist, despite their being buttoned.
“Thirty seconds!” Cayos bellowed and a fifth hopped over to stand in front of him, pulling his pants up over his hips once he reached Commander Cayos. The boy grinned at him, and then the Commander’s eyes travelled back to the swinging doors. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…” Arguing burst from the bathroom. “…three, two, one.” Three more bodies fell through the opening.
“Time’s up!” groans met Cayos’s words, and the final two stumbled out of the door to join the three who had not quite made it in time. All in all only half had returned on time. Those who were out of time shuffled up to stand in front of him. The other five young men were laughing aloud at those who were late. Grumbling they all lined up in front of the big commander.