Neither Padraig nor Edara spoke as I was trussed to the tree trunk with a rope around my neck. Another tied my ankles together, and Edara wound a chain several times around my broken chest and locked it behind the sturdy oak. Weary unto death, injured, I could never slip out from the ropes and chains. Without my magic, I’d never untie the ropes or unchain myself and escape. Without my sword, I couldn’t augment my own, and break the manacles. They left me to sit, alone, friendless, to contemplate my last night on this earth. As a pair, Padraig and Edara stalked into the darkness, side by side, and vanished.
Malik disappeared, presumably downriver. Windy, also. He killed Zorn to save me, then vanished like a ghost. I frowned, confusion easing my pain and discomfort for a short time. I never heard him take flight and follow Sky Dancer, though Griffins tended to make a great deal of noise and blew great washes of air about when they took off from a standing position. Perhaps in their high regard for me, Malik and Windy opted out of tomorrow’s entertainment.
I leaned my head against the tree trunk and shut my eyes. The glowing coals off my pyre lent me enough warmth to be relatively comfortable against the chilly mountain air despite my awkward position and my pain. Who would Roidan pick as torturer? I asked myself. Though most Atans shied from torturing their prey, the Atani did employ oen or two lunatics. As a child, Raga often cut small animals into pieces, just to see them cry and squirm. I recalled him watching me with no small satisfaction and pleasure. He might jump at the chance to torment a superior officer.
Though I could see the dim glow of the King’s camp fires, I heard little save the soft noises of the mountains. The night breeze soughed through the branches high above my head, and whispered through the thicket. Roidan’s choice of my execution was a slender young oak with a heavy growth of timber at its base. Something rustled deep inside the branches, a mouse, or perhaps a snake. I smiled a little, thinking of the jekki snake I cooked for Iyumi a lifetime ago.
I was tired. Well, exhausted really. Rather than contemplate what little remained of my life, or worry over my coming death, I tried to wrap sleep about me. Make my peace with the gods? I didn’t bother. Either they liked me or they didn’t and no amount of belated worship on my part would alter their opinion.
I did, however, find some peace within myself. I did wrong, obviously, but in my life I committed mostly right. I refused to permit Dalziel to swamp me with guilt any longer. I can, I will, face the coming dawn and my subsequent execution with courage and honor. That’s all I have left to offer this world. That enough, your effing lordships?
The river hurrying its way over stones lulled me, soothed my strung nerves. I pictured Iyumi within my mind’s eye and held her close. Drifting toward exhausted sleep, I wanted her face to be the last thing I saw this night. I felt her touch upon my brow, listened as she whispered I love you into my ear. Good gods, be merciful. Let us be together again on the other side.
A branch snapped to my left.
I jerked awake, my instincts screeching an alarm. The noise could be anything at all: a rabbit, a deer ambling to the river for a drink, a hunting fox. Any or all were zero cause for alarm, I thought. All harmless despite my vulnerability. So why did the small hairs on my neck suddenly stand on end? Because something watched me with evil intent. My roiling gut informed me someone, or something, stalked me. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. Despite the royal command that I was to die on the morrow, something or someone had plans of their own. My survival instincts loudly and stridently told me so.
I stiffened, listening hard. Rather than strain my eyes trying to see in the dark, I shut them in order to better concentrate on listening. Four soft paws stepped slowly, lightly across the clearing. Past the corpses of Cian and Yestin, I heard the swift intake of breath as the creature sniffed the air. Though the dead hadn’t been dead long enough to really reek, the odor of blood and piss tickled my nostrils. The breeze pushed most of it away, fortunately, though if I was to die in the next few moments it hardly mattered.
The paws drifted closer. Not big enough for a bear, I thought, and too graceful. Not a great cat, either. A wolf perhaps. Or a wild dog. Some said the descendants of huge mastiffs who escaped their masters roamed these mountains. Perhaps I was dogmeat. I breathed in deep, scenting a wild canine odor. A wolf? It stopped directly in front of me.
He changed forms the moment I opened my eyes.
“Hello, Van.”
Malik’s spell still locked my throat, thus preventing me from answering with a curse or a sharp retort. I knew why he was there before I saw the dirk in his right hand. How he dared the wrath of the King by killing me under his royal nose, I didn’t know. That he had the guts to try was astonishing enough.
I answered him with a silent snarl, my lip curling in defiance.
Gaear grinned. “You should be grateful, boyo,” he said, his voice hushed to not carry to the camps. “I’m going to kill you swift and clean. His Majesty has some rather creative plans for you. How would you rather die? His way? Or my way?”
My fingers still worked. I offered him that sign.
Gaear sighed, his eyes rolling. “How droll. You’re a nasty sort of fellow, Vanyar, the world is a better place without you. I wish I could permit the King to put you down tomorrow, I’d enjoy every last moment of it. But I can’t risk you saying something you shouldn’t. You know about me, don’t you?”
I lay my head back against the oak trunk, smiling. Indeed I do, laddie, I thought. You’re the spy I’d been looking for. And you knew I knew. You flew to me on eagle’s wings when you despise flying so you could beat the courier. You set me up to die, but I survived.
“Yes,” Gaear mused, looking down at me. “I spied for him, told him all about the Atani. King Finian pays awfully well, you know. I’m disgustingly rich. After you’re out of my way, he’ll make me richer.”
Money can’t buy your soul, boyo.
He advanced, lifting the dirk, its keen edge poised to cut my throat. “Sorry, like. I tried killing you several times now, but you have the devil’s own luck. That warehouse trap was a stroke of sheer genius. How you managed to survive is beyond me. How did you, by the way?”
I offered him a curled lip of defiance in lieu of a spoken answer.
He pouted, his eyes gleaming. “No matter, I reckon. I wish I could take the credit, but it was all Finian’s idea. His and that whore, Zeani. Damn, I never knew what he saw in her, she slept with anything that walked. Stirring up the crowd was dead easy, you know. Already hot to avenge the deaths from the fire, all needed to do was tell them you murdered your own unit and point you out. Even our brother Atans believed me.”
He sniggered. “Once you’re gone, His Majesty will launch an investigation but will find nothing to tie me to you. I’ll find Finian another slut, and he’ll get greedy for more intel.” He chuckled. “I’ll certainly sleep easier now you’re finally dead.”
I forced my eyes to remain on its faint gleam, watching it glide closer to my throat. Don’t warn him by shifting your eyes, stupid, I thought, my Atan discipline keeping my eyes on his weapon. Not on him, his weapon. As though in fear, I widened them, letting my jaw slacken.
He bent toward me, forced to stoop in order to shove the knife into my throat. “Hold still now,” he almost crooned. “It’ll be over soon.”
The shadow rose behind him.
Swift talons locked the collar around his neck at the same moment Malik burst from the thicket behind me. Gaear screamed, his voice high and womanish. Still, he tried to lunge, to shove that dirk into my face, my throat, anything. Malik reared high, his front hooves boxing, and struck Gaear squarely in the chest. Gaear, still wailing, crashed into Windy. He fought on, trying to slash and cut, his dagger slicing nothing but air.
Muttering a curse, his wings flared, Windy took him down. His right front talons pinned Gaear’s torso to the rocky soil as his victim struggled, trying to stab Windy’s leg, shoulder, foot – anything that might free him.
“Bloo
dy bugger,” Windy growled.
His talons closed on Gaear’s right wrist and squeezed. Despite the noise Gaear kicked up, I clearly heard the bones in his arm snap like twigs. Gaear screamed again.
Malik plucked the dagger from his lax hand as Windy picked him up with careless ease and tossed him on the stony beach. Gaear landed hard on his back, gasping, choking, trying to shriek in his agony but lacking the necessary breath. Though he sought to rise and run, Malik, his arms folded across his bare chest, planted an implacable hoof on Gaear’s chest and leaned forward.
“Malik! Don’t you dare kill him.”
King Roidan, riding his Centaur, galloped from behind the trees, his escort on his mount’s creamy tail. In a whoosh of wings, Sky Dancer settled to earth on Windy’s left. Chief Ba’al’amawer led a charge of a dozen Minotaurs into the faint firelight, their twin swords in both hands. Above, Commander Storm Cloud and several Griffins circled low overhead. Cavalry soldiers and Centaurs ringed the small clearing, kicking up dust. Someone added wood to my pyre and flames climbed high.
“Malik, dammit, is he alive?”
“Oh, he’s alive, sire,” Malik replied, smiling down into Gaear’s agonized face.
“Who is it? Damn it, who dared betray our country?”
“Lieutenant Gaear, sire.”
“Did he confess?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Windy said, saluting, his wings furled over his massive shoulders. “The Lord Captain Commander, First Captain Vanyar and I are witnesses. He confessed he was paid, and paid well. He realized First Captain Vanyar suspected he spied for King Finian and thus helped set the trap that killed the Captain’s unit in Dalziel. Corpora Zeani, deceased, was also implicated in the plot. Captain Vanyar, his intended victim, escaped. He planned to kill Captain Vanyar, here now, to silence him before you put him to the question.”
“So my plan worked?”
“Indeed, Your Majesty.”
Roidan rocked back in his saddle and grinned. “Damn. I love it when a plan comes together. No need for a trial, kids, he’s a self-confessed traitor. Gaear, your sainted father will have some rather choice words for you when you meet him. And you will be meeting him very soon, I promise.”
His Majesty’s eyes found mine. His grin broadened. “Sky Dancer, be a dear and untie Van. I’m sure he’s dreadfully uncomfortable and I know he’s injured, poor fellow.”
I caught Malik’s swift wink and tiny smile. Suddenly, I could speak again, though my voice was hoarse. “Your Majesty,” I began, as Sky Dancer towered over me. Her clever talons loosened the ropes, but the chain and its lock rebuffed her.
She straightened. “Who has the bloody key to this?” she snapped, obviously unconcerned she spoke thus in the King’s presence.
“Oh, crap. I do. Hang on.”
Edara trotted forward, into the light, fumbling at her belt. Removing the key, she tossed it into the air toward Sky Dancer. Though her raised talon would catch it, Padraig’s swift fist intercepted it.
“Permit me, Lieutenant,” he said, striding forward, his tail sweeping his hocks.
Sky Dancer gave ground, muttering and hovering, as Padraig, smiling, bent to the lock that bound me to the tree. “I apologize, First Captain, sir,” he said, his voice low.
“You –”
As the chain fell from my chest and pooled in my lap, he picked it up and tossed it aside. “I owe you that.”
“An –”
“Apology, yes, sir.”
Amused, Padraig helped me to stand, his hand under my shoulder forcing me to lean on his strength. “I had to feign hatred for you, Van. You needed to believe we all hated you, all of us in the brotherhood. For His Majesty’s plan to work, to uncover the spy, you were our scapegoat. We didn’t know who the spy was, but knew he’d try to kill you, thus reveal himself. Vanyar, you were the King’s bait.”
“Only a small handful knew of my plan to smoke out the traitor,” Roidan said, his Centaur pushing his way between Sky Dancer and Windy. “I, we, knew of a leak in the Atan, but couldn’t determine who. When you fled in disgrace, with half the nation crying for your blood, we knew our moment had arrived with bells on.”
“Only His Majesty, the Lord Captain, Clan Chief Ba’al’amawer and Corporal Edryd, plus myself, knew of the plan to use you to find the traitor.” Padraig smiled sadly. “I hope you might one day forgive me.”
“We needed every Atan’s hand set against you, Van,” Roidan said. “To set our little trap.”
“Fortunately,” Malik said, closely examining his victim. “Gaear fell for it.”
“It’s my fault, Van,” Roidan said, “I’m sorry to have put you through all that. I’m to blame.”
“Your Majesty,” Malik said sternly, his hoof still planted on a squirming, weeping Gaear. “A King never apologizes.”
“This one does.”
Roidan leaned out of his saddle and put his hand on my shoulder. He smiled, his blue eyes earnest and sincere. “I’m sorry you suffered so, Vanyar. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
“Your Majesty –” I croaked, leaning heavily on Padraig.
“Hush now and know this, lad,” Roidan went on. “I’m damn proud of you. And I’m damn glad you’re on my side. If you were on hers, now, we’d all be in deep doo-doo.”
“It’s called ‘shit’, Your Majesty,” Malik said primly.
“Why haven’t you healed Captain Vanyar, Malik?” Roidan demanded, glaring daggers. “Can’t you see he’s in pain?”
“I’m babysitting this miscreant here. Sire.”
“Oh, for –” Roidan straightened in his saddle and looked around. “Chief Ba’al’amawer, are you busy?”
“Right now, sire?”
“Yes right now.”
“No, sire.”
“Then kindly string up Malik’s little nuisance from Van’s tree. I see a stout branch right there.”
“Right away, sire.”
Ba’al’amawer strode forward, Muljier and Raga at his shoulders. Windy stepped aside, but Sky Dancer scowled and hovered as close to Padraig as she could get. “Van?” she hissed. “You all right, bro?”
I found a lopsided grin for her. “Right as rain, love.”
Malik took his hoof from Gaear’s chest and retreated several steps, permitting the huge Clan Chief to seize Gaear by his hair. Ignoring Gaear’s screech of agony and panic, Raga bound Gaear’s hands behind him, as Muljier picked up the rope that bound me to the tree.
“Oh, no,” Roidan said, shaking his finger. “That one. The chain.”
“By the chain, sire?”
“Yes, yes.” Roidan waved his hand impatiently. “Loop the chain around his neck, throw the end over the limb and haul on it. Must I do this myself?”
“Of course not, sire.”
“I’m feeling bloodthirsty, for some odd reason,” Roidan complained, crossing his arms over his chest. “Must have something to do with treason, I suspect. No, dammit, use several loops, there. Can’t have him dropping out it, then we’ll be forced to do the bloody thing all over again. I’m tired, you know, haven’t ridden for years, and supper is waiting.”
Malik walked toward me, his dark face lit by the dancing flames. He patted Sky Dancer on her shoulder as he passed, nodding respect to Windy. “Van,” he said, his broad hand on my shoulder. “Glad to have you back.”
“Ditto. How is it –” I glanced around at them all: Malik, Padraig, Edara, Windy, Sky Dancer, Aderyn and even Gaear. “How is it you all survived? I thought you were dead.”
Padraig chuckled. “Never underestimate our Malik, here, Van. No demon can come close to kicking his black ass.”
“But,” I jerked my head at Edara. “I saw her killed. Aderyn, too. Flynn’s bombs –”
“Killed Grey Mist and Kasi, yes.”
Malik’s face and tone lowered in grief. “Nor should we forget brave Valcan or young Dusan. Once we dispatched Flynn’s hellspawn to its home, I turned my attentions to our wounded. Ilirri helped.”
“Ilirri?”
“The King had already commanded troops, they’d been following for days, Ilirri among them. She’s truly the best healer there is, Van. Without her, Edara, Moon, Windy, Aderyn and Edryd would have died. The demon almost killed Edryd – that boy has more courage than brains. Tried taking the beast on, himself.”
“Where are they?” I asked. “The others.”
Malik smiled as much as he ever does, his dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Still recovering. Ilirri is taking good care of them and Alain is helping her. Edryd is at his wits end, by the way.
“Uh –”
“He was deeply involved in the scheme to ruin you, Vanyar. Remember his arrow in Kiera’s mane?”
“Um – “
“That one, yes.”
“Well –”
“We had to keep you thinking there was an Atan plot to kill you. Flynn’s little ambush gave Edryd a prime opportunity. He’s the best shot, as you well know. Anyway, he’s terrified he’ll die before telling you, to your face, he knows you didn’t kill his father.”
I turned my cheek away from him, swallowing hard. “That – that means a great deal.”
“Oh, by the way, I think you need to see her.”
“Her?” I asked, confused.
Malik whistled.
A sharp whinny, from the far side of the river, answered him. My jaw dropped. My mouth dried to dust. Oh, gods, it can’t be –
“Persuading her to remain behind was a task in itself,” Malik commented, his eyes on the black water. “She wanted to be here, but if she were – let’s just say she’d compromise our little trap. Gaear might have never walked into it.”
A dark speck crashed into the foam, coursing its way across the rushing stretch, swimming, lunging, sending water high into the night. She screamed again, calling, calling to me, her only love. Tears I didn’t realize had formed and tracked down my cheeks. I remembered her lying there, broken, her eyes rolled back in her head – and never thought for a moment she’d lived.
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