Emergence (Book 2)

by K. L. Schwengel

  "And so I ask again, why did you bring me here?"

  "It is you who called us."

  Bolin shook his head. "No."

  Andrakaos gusted out a breath and canted his head as though to scent the air. "He waits for us."

  A different chill worked through him. "Donovan? Where?"

  Andrakaos stared at him. "He will try to take us. We will need you." Andrakaos shifted, and the snow swirled around Bolin once again. "You will need us."

  ***

  They left Broadhead by the River Gate wrapped in the gloom of false dawn. Even though four garrison soldiers padded their ranks, Bolin opted to stay off the road for the better part of the day, keeping out two scouts at all times. They rode in uneasy silence, everyone alert to the slightest sound. Bolin hoped to reach The Splintered Oak, an inn a bit less than a day's ride from Nisair, by dark. Before his visit of the night before, he had thought to press on and camp beneath the stars. The inn wouldn't offer much by way of protection, but better than being caught in the open if Donovan truly did wait for them.

  They rode single file, Bolin on point, Garek bringing up the rear, Ciara and Nialyne tucked in the middle of the column. Each time the scouts returned and gave their all-clear report, the tension around them eased. By mid-day, when Sully and one of Rothel's men returned without anything to report, spirits rose considerably more. All save Bolin's, because each step toward Nisair took Ciara that much closer to Donovan.

  He waits for us.

  The words echoed in his mind. That Donovan waited was a given. Where, and what he had planned, remained the great unknowns that chewed at Bolin like a dog gnawing a bone. Surely Donovan wouldn't try anything within the walls of the city? Not even he could be arrogant enough to think he could stand before the Emperor and the Imperial Mages. But he'd failed to take Ciara on the road. Twice. Never coming himself, which seemed far enough out of character to add yet another layer of worry to Bolin's already extensive list. Donovan did nothing without purpose. If he meant to wear them down, he'd succeeded. Now he waited between Broadhead and Nisair, like a spider in a web. Bolin would rather face another marauder attack. At least marauders were straight forward, their intentions clear.

  Sandeen twitched an ear back, alerting Bolin to Garek's approach or he never would have noticed. Goddess above, the point rider needed to be far more aware than that.

  "Still thinking of pressing on tonight?" Garek asked, matching his horse's pace to Sandeen's.

  Bolin shook his head. "We'll stay at the Oak." He glanced behind him. Two riders filled the space between them and Ciara. She caught his eye, and her face crinkled into a questioning frown as though she could feel the weight of his thoughts from there. Likely she could.

  "And it appears I'm talking to myself."

  Bolin jerked his head toward Garek, and his friend's sharp eyes drilled into him.

  "What's it this time?" he asked. "We're damn near to the gates. Can't we get a moment's peace?"

  "Donovan's waiting for us."

  "Where?"

  "I wish I knew."

  "So this is just a hunch? Or do you have real cause to believe it?"

  "Let's just say I had a premonition." He gave Garek a meaningful look.

  Garek pursed his lips. "Ah." He shifted in the saddle, casting a look ahead and to both sides. "Right. And you're planning to do what about it?"

  Turn tail and run would have been the preferable answer. No shame in retreat, and Bolin had never felt more like doing just that. Not that any place existed to run to where Ciara would be safe. Except Galys Auld, and that would only draw Donovan there. In time the Greensward would become a battlefield, something Bolin would never allow.

  Although...if he sent Ciara back with Nialyne, he could deal with Donovan on his own.

  "No," Garek said. "Whatever just went through your head that you think is a good idea, isn't."

  There were times when the fact Garek knew Bolin better than most proved more of a hindrance than anything. "What would you suggest, then?"

  "Something you're no good at," Garek said. "Trust that whatever he's got planned, we can get past it and safely to Nisair. Once inside the city, he won't be a threat. The city is warded against magic other than that sanctioned by the Emperor. Yes?"

  "In theory."

  "Theory?" Garek snorted. "I think it's a bit more than that. You know I've never claimed to understand even a tiny bit of what you all have, or what you can do with it. Quite frankly it makes my skin crawl. I may not know much of magic, but I have studied a bit of history. Nisair is pretty much hallowed ground. Always has been so. Ever since the city was built, no one's been able to breach her wards. No one. And it's been tried. Whatever magic lies in her heart is controlled by the Emperor and the mages. You don't honestly think he'd try a move against them?"

  "I don't know," Bolin said. "That's the problem."

  "We have our orders."

  Sandeen tossed his head and fidgeted beneath him, reacting to Bolin's sudden flash of anger. "You need worry only about your own orders. I believe they had to do with ensuring I return to Nisair. That's something I now have every intention of doing."

  "With Ciara."

  "That remains to be seen."

  "It's not negotiable, Bolin." Garek scratched his beard. "Look, if it makes you feel better we can send one of the lads ahead, drag our feet a bit, apprise Dain of the situation and get some reinforcements."

  "Or, I can ride ahead, and you can drag your feet." When Garek opened his mouth to object Bolin held up a hand. "Let's not forget, Commander, I outrank you. From what you've divulged of your orders, they would be partly satisfied by my arrival in Nisair, with or without you. Do you intend to disobey a direct order from me?"

  "You know, I'd rather not," Garek said. "Especially not from you. But you should also know I've been given the authority to do so."

  Bolin raised a brow. "Promoted, then?"

  "Only temporarily."

  They rode a bit without further discourse. It would be a risk, leaving Ciara behind to go ahead and try to draw Donovan out.

  "I'd have no problem with it," Garek said, "if I believed you'd seek Dain's counsel first. But you've made it clear you want Donovan dead at any cost. It doesn't matter if I think you're right or not, I can't allow you to go hunting him."

  "So who exactly gave you your orders, then?"

  Garek went still, and Bolin instantly regretted the words. The big man swiveled his attention forward, his focus on the trail ahead, his jaw working.

  "Because of the company we're in, I won't draw on you for that, though I'm sorely tempted," Garek said, his voice tight. "Given enough time I may even forgive the fact you just called my loyalty into question. If it happens again, I won't be as generous."

  He spun his horse and cantered back down the line.

  ***

  The late afternoon sun danced off the river like glistening jewels casting flickering reflections against Nisair's whitewashed walls. Donovan would reach the gates well before dark. No doubt much had changed in the decades since he had last visited the Imperial capital. For one, a different man wore the crown these days. Donovan did not know him, and were the Emperor not in the General's pocket, Donovan would have entertained the idea of exercising his rights and privileges as a Lord of the Empire and taking up residence in the Lord's Wing of the castle. More than likely, such an attempt would get him thrown in the dungeons.

  If he did not exercise care, that possibility still existed. If Donovan had to guess, Nisair would be the last place the General would think to find him. Some would consider his entering the city an act of foolishness, or perhaps the last effort of a desperate man. Donovan liked to think he was neither of those things.

  What he would hold himself out to be, to those who took notice of him at all, would be nothing more than a travelling scholar. By now, Colm should have secured a secluded residence near the inner wall. Close enough to the castle gates to be privy to comings and goings, but not so close as to risk d
etection. A gamble, perhaps, but necessary.

  Donovan glanced sidelong at the priestess as she trotted up beside him.

  "Once again, you disappoint," he said by way of greeting.

  She slowed her horse to a walk, matching his pace. "And once again, you kept information from me that may have proved useful."

  "Did you accomplish even one of the tasks I laid before you?"

  "You wanted them delayed. I have done so."

  "And the girl?"

  "Girl?" The priestess snorted. "She remains in the hands of her guardians. She could have killed me."

  "Any of the three you faced could have killed you. Do not expect me to mourn when that inevitability occurs."

  "If you so badly want me dead, why did you bind me?"

  "Your magic serves a purpose."

  She glowered at him, then hunched her shoulders and slowed her mount until she could fall in behind him. He could feel her brooding. He knew she entertained the idea of killing him, or of turning traitor and throwing in with his enemies. She lived with the regret of not slitting his throat when he had been too weak to fend her off. That opportunity would never present itself again. It rankled her to be bound to anyone. To be bound to him ate at her much the same way her poisonous magic ate at the General. It had taken Donovan some time to realize the potential in her indiscretion. Another vulnerability in a man who had far too few.

  ***

  The Imperial Castle dominated the entire northern end of Nisair. Situated on a slight rise to allow the Emperor and his retinue to look down their noses upon the masses, it provided both luxury and safety to those enjoying the Emperor's hospitality. Its placement and fortified wall system shimmered with wards for those who had the eyes to see them, further insuring no foe would ever take it. The city may fall at its feet, but the home of the Emperor would persevere.

  The unremarkable, two-story house Colm had secured for Donovan nestled at the end of a road, two rows down from the inner wall, and well off the main avenue. That made it easy to find, yet out of anyone's eye. The lower level consisted of a kitchen, a servant's room, and the main parlor. The upper floor housed several bedrooms. Colm had seen to all the details including provisioning and staffing, which allowed Donovan plenty of time to settle in before a knock on the door announced the arrival of his guest.

  "Ah, the great overseer of the Order of Imperial Mages himself." Donovan dipped his head in greeting but did not rise as Colm ushered Lord Arnok into the parlor.

  "Spare me your sarcasm," the Imperial Mage said as he entered in a flourish of deep amber robes. His dark eyes flicked across the details of the room. "I know well your disdain for my order."

  "Come now, Lord Arnok," Donovan chided, "you sound like a petulant child."

  "You take a great risk entering the city. I would not have thought you to be so reckless. I, likewise, take an even greater risk entertaining your summons. Were I to be seen in your company, I would be hard pressed to explain myself."

  Donovan arched a brow. "So much for pleasantries."

  Arnok's narrow face became even more pinched. He folded his arms, his hands disappearing into his sleeves. "What is it you want?"

  "I want you to use your influence and sway the Emperor in my favor."

  "You will find the Emperor to be more swayed by the Lord High General than any of us in matters concerning you."

  Donovan wrinkled his nose. "Such a pretentious title for a bastard son. Tell me, Lord Arnok, how much mastery does the Lord High General hold over the Imperial Mages?"

  "Over myself, Rienhold, and a few of the younger mages, none whatsoever."

  "And Thadeus?"

  "Those who are youngest in our order have no personal memories of you to color their loyalty."

  "And Thadeus is far from young. But perhaps his memories have grown as foggy as the veil." Donovan crossed his knees. He rolled the stem of a fine crystal goblet in his fingers, and for a moment studied the light reflecting from the amber liquid it held. "Tell me, have you chosen his successor?"

  Arnok's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

  "Come now, certainly some thought has been given to who should succeed the dotard when your blessed Goddess finally takes him to her ample bosom. The man is ancient. He was ancient when the current emperor's grandsire sat the throne." Donovan awarded Arnok a smile. "You mages are gifted with longer lives than most men of power, but even your years must wind down eventually."

  "I hope you aren't considering something befalling Lord Thadeus?"

  "Would you rather something befall you?"

  Arnok paled. His Adam's apple bobbed as he drew his shoulders back, pulling himself up to his full height. "Are you threatening me?"

  "You are very observant. I have always appreciated that quality in a man. It makes lengthy explanations unnecessary."

  A side door opened, and Teeva entered the room. Arnok's mouth dropped open before he caught himself and schooled his expression into its normal, sour disdain. The priestess padded over to the mage on her bare feet, light as a cat, the scent of musk trailing with her. She stood on her tip-toes to look Arnok in the face. Donovan saw him tremble when she traced a finger along his ornate chain of office. The priestess circled him, trailing one hand across his body. She stopped behind him, peering around at Donovan.

  "A toy for me?" she asked.

  Arnok jerked away from her, putting a chair between them. "I didn't believe you were the kind to keep the likes of her."

  Teeva grinned. "He's skittish."

  She hopped into the chair, sitting on her feet with her legs spread obscenely, one hand on the chair back and one on the arm. Her breasts pushed against the confines of her bodice when she leaned toward Arnok, and a sheen of perspiration glistened across his bald pate. Donovan would have berated such behavior if not for its effect on the Imperial Mage.

  "To be clear, no man keeps me," she said, with enough venom to send Arnok back two steps. "But I could keep you."

  Arnok turned away from her to face Donovan, his expression a convoluted mess of scorn and anger, with a bit of fear tossed in. "I will not discuss our business in front of her."

  "You will do whatever I desire," Donovan said. "Sit down."

  When the mage failed to immediately comply, Donovan eliminated his options. Arnok's eyes bulged as a chair skittered behind him, taking out his knees and dropping him unceremoniously into its upholstered embrace. He struggled to stand and could not. His narrow face reddened, and the pulse of his power as he attempted to free himself rippled between them like a breeze.

  "How dare you."

  Donovan raised a hand. "Save your righteous indignation."

  "Do you think this charlatan's trick will go unnoticed? The Emperor himself--"

  "Will what?" Donovan asked. "Run to your rescue? I very much doubt that. He is as oblivious to what occurs within this house as everyone else."

  The mage's breath caught. "You've warded it from within? How? That's not possible within the city. Not without the consensus of the Council." He cast a furtive glance at the priestess. "Is that why you keep her?"

  Donovan's lip curled. "She has her uses. That is not one of them. Are you aware the crone is dead?"

  "We were aware the possibility existed," Arnok said, still straining against Donovan's hold.

  "Then you should also be aware that her power did not die with her."

  Arnok's brow furrowed as he worked through the meaning of Donovan's words. His jaw dropped, and his skin took on a sickly, ashen color. He gave up struggling. Donovan thought for a moment the Imperial Mage had given up breathing as well.

  "That's not possible."

  "Apparently it is." Donovan stood and strolled to the window, his back to Arnok. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes against the stabbing pulse of that supposed impossibility. The wards protecting Nisair and the Emperor were a blend of the power of the land itself, the Order of Mages, and the Imperial family. They had been created to forbid all but benign magic from bein
g used within its walls unless approved by the Imperial Council.

  Admittedly, attempting to circumvent those wards were part of the reason Donovan had come to Nisair in the first place. A true test of the power he now wielded. Or that he attempted to wield. The repercussions of such displays were becoming increasingly difficult to manage.

  "What is it you want?" Arnok said.

  Donovan blinked his eyes open. "The Lord High General's head on a platter, for one." The amount of rancor in his voice surprised him. He turned back to face the mage, hands clasped behind his back, his face a mask of serenity. "The girl he escorts is my daughter. Did the illustrious Lord General share that bit of information with you?"

  Arnok's brows rose. "I was not aware of that connection, no. Whether he has shared that tidbit with the Emperor, I cannot say. We were simply told you had something to do with the power we sought. That you were seeking the same and, as such, should be considered a threat to the Empire."

  "Ah. It never ceases to amaze me how a man such as the General, held in high esteem by the Emperor, a supposed man of honor, can twist facts to benefit himself and find no remorse in doing so. More, that his words are believed without question."

  "Not by all."

  "I find that encouraging." Donovan reclaimed his seat and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, steepling his fingers. "So, I can count on your support?"

  "Support? Against the Lord General?" Arnok shook his head, and put a hand up to wipe the beads of sweat that skittered across his brow. "It is well known we do not share similar views, but to openly go against him would be political suicide."

  "And to go against me would be certain death."

  Arnok's face once again shaded to white. Teeva edged over in her chair, eyes bright and eager like a hungry predator. "Let me have him."

  The mage flinched. "Keep her away from me."

  "Aww." The priestess slithered from her seat and scooted to Arnok's side, resting her head on his lap. A tremor ran through him as she stroked his leg. "I would be gentle. I promise."

  "Enough," Donovan said.