by CS Sealey
“If you can see this, Galenros,” she whispered, looking up at the cloudy sky, “tell him – tell Varren to please come quickly. The charms on the castle walls do not prevent summoned creatures from flying across the walls and down into the courtyard. If you come with Vrór, then you can take the main stairs down to – ”
She heard a footfall on the stones behind her and turned her head to see Emil approaching. She could not stop herself from glowering. The shaman’s expression remained blank and it was this more than anything that annoyed her. His apathy was worse than his fury.
“May I join you?” he asked.
“You never ask for anything,” she replied shortly. “You take or you do, I have no choice.”
Emil sighed and glanced away. He lowered himself onto the bench beside her. “I want to ask you something and I’d appreciate it if you would answer truthfully.”
“Now you are attempting civility?” Angora asked, raising her eyebrows. “What a day of paradoxes. I suppose it would be too much to expect an apology from you next.”
“What is the history between yourself and the king?”
The question caught her off-guard and her eyes narrowed. “That is none of your business.”
“Do you wish me to read your mind?” Emil asked.
“Never.”
“Then use your tongue, girl! He didn’t marry you on mere acquaintance, did he? Why would he marry you when he could have gained a stronger alliance elsewhere? Turgyl has many prominent families, as does Leith. He could have married into wealth. You, however, have not a pfenn to your name. And as for the islands, they pose no such threat to him and can offer him very little in return for his protection. Why would he marry on such terms?”
“Because he values life!” Angora exclaimed. “He is trying to undo what his father did.”
“So how did you go from fighting Vrór in the skies above Kirofirth to marrying the king of the Ayons?”
“Vrór was too strong, he could have killed me, but he has peculiar tastes. He brought me back to Delseroy as a trophy and expected praise from the king and Varren. But when Samian found out who and what I was, he spared my life and offered an alliance. He promised me the protection of the islands in exchange for my hand, but I wanted more. I wanted the pirates and bandits gone from the Kalladean, to free up the trading routes. He agreed.”
“To all those terms?”
“Yes.”
“Though they offered very little advantage for his own cause.”
“What would you know about my husband’s cause?” she asked bitterly. “You know only of Ronnesian ways and Ronnesian motives. My husband wants to keep his people safe and enrich their lives as best he can. His father ordered him to raze the south to the ground but he withdrew the armies the moment he was made king! Had you forgotten that? He wants peace in these lands, that was why he made the offer of marriage to Queen Sorcha. And why did she refuse? She was too proud, and chose war over peace!”
“None of us believed he was sincere in his promises. Not even you.”
“Ah, I see! So again this is my fault!” Angora cried. “Of course!”
“Please, don’t exaggerate.”
She sighed and crossed her arms grumpily. “Yes, when I first saw King Samian in Delseroy, I thought he was everything his father had been – cruel, war-hungry, unconcerned with the plight of the people – but he is nothing like Corhillar. Nothing at all. If his farms fail in a season, he boosts imports. When his allies are racked with civil war, he moves in to prevent the factions from eliminating each other and forces them into diplomatic talks. He is kind and fair and dedicated to his people.”
“You seem to know a lot about his character for only a matter of weeks.”
“Not weeks,” Angora said, shaking her head. “I have known him for years.”
Emil appeared confused. “But you only went to Delseroy a few months ago.”
Angora looked away. Hiding her past would do nothing to alter her situation and, she reminded herself, Emil could command Aiyla to investigate her past if he suspected she had not been honest with him.
“Before the burning of my homeland, there was a great storm and a young man was washed up on our northern coast. He said he was a rich islander who had been thrown into the sea during a voyage and separated from his crew.”
“Samian?”
“Yes. My father resented outsiders and I feared he would kill Samian, so I hid him in the caves. I took him food and water every day until the storms passed and it was safe for him to leave the island. My mother and I prepared a boat for him and he left. I never thought I would see him again.”
“When did you find out he was the king of the Ayons?”
“As soon as I saw him in Delseroy.”
“Did he recognize you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Were you intimate on Teronia?”
Angora turned to face him with pure disbelief in her eyes. “What sort of question is that?”
“But you loved him?”
“What I knew of love, yes.”
“And when you were reunited, did you love him then?”
“I hated him at first, but it is very hard not to love a man who is so devoted to the needs of others. He is the best man I have ever known.”
“Despite the fact he’s an Ayon?”
Angora slammed her hands down on the bench and glared at him. “The Ayons are not monsters!”
“You swore you would seek vengeance for the damage the Ayons did to your island. When you were part of the Circle, it consumed your every waking hour. Are you telling me you have forgotten the suffering your people endured?”
“Don’t you dare suggest I have forgotten what happened!”
“Then why give up your vendetta?”
“It is not right to condemn a man for the sins of his father,” she said. “I have relinquished my vow for vengeance. I do not hate the Ayon soldiers for burning my island, only the man who gave the order. He is dead, long dead.”
Emil’s eyes narrowed and his lips grew thin. “Why do you wish so badly to disrupt the equilibrium?” he asked.
“I wish only to be free!” Angora insisted. “I never wanted to be part of this war but you keep dragging me back! I may have been born a leika but I was never born to be Queen Sorcha’s pawn.”
“None of us ever had the choice, Angora,” Emil said, his voice almost soft. “When Markus found me, I knew the Spirits had decided my future long before I had been born.”
Angora shook her head and looked out over the lush courtyard. “That is a lie. You say you had no choice but you did. You chose to go to Te’Roek because you believed it was your path. I do not believe this is mine.”
Emil was silent for a long while, his dark eyes studying his hands.
“Tell me truthfully, what do you think Varren’s reaction will be?”
Angora met his gaze sternly. “You have effectively abducted the entire royal family of Delseroy in a single afternoon. Do you think you will be able to stand up to the full fury of Lord General Varren when he comes to reclaim his king? And he will come, you can be sure of that.”
“This castle is secure. We have more men patrolling the corridors and more restraints on the front doors. I worked on them for hours.”
“That will not be enough. No matter what you do, Varren will come and he will enter this castle again. You had your chance to return King Samian but you persuaded the queen to keep him. I cannot understand how you all can be so stupid…” She shook her head and looked up at the darkening sky. “When Varren comes, he will want blood…and I believe he will get it.”
CHAPTER 47
An eerie calm embraced the city of Te’Roek. A messenger had arrived after a week of straight riding, exhausted and aching, and blurted out a terrible report to General Kaster: hundreds of ships had been sighted sailing down the Great River Divide. Scouts had been dispatched to investigate on both banks and had returned pale-faced and disbelieving. Tens of thousands of me
n were camped on the northern shore of the river and appeared to be making ready to leave, which could only mean one thing. The messenger feared that the border forces would already be engaged in battle.
Stunned, the general had immediately informed the queen, who had personally addressed the citizens of Te’Roek. Frightened and uncertain, people kept to their homes and savored each moment they had with their families. Soon, the Ayons would march south and, with an army that greatly outnumbered the Ronnesians’ own, it would take more than a miracle to stop them.
But there were four figures out in the cold and damp that night and they moved purposefully through the lower city from the North Gate, side by side. Their boots rustled the first of the fall leaves as they walked along the main thoroughfare. On the left, the shortest, stooped figure turned his head to look down an intersecting street, drawn by the sound of approaching footsteps. A small child darted out from the misty shadows and crossed his path, carrying a heavy bag over her shoulder. Upon seeing she was not alone, the child skidded to a halt and looked up at the figures. The stooped one paused.
“Not afraid of the dark, are you, child?”
The girl screamed, a shrill sound that pierced the night’s silence, making the figure cringe. The tallest of the four turned his head to the girl and, with a motion of his hand, silenced her scream.
“Play your games later,” Varren said harshly. “This is no time for your sport.”
“Apologies, my lord. I couldn’t sss help myself.”
“But since you have now made our presence known,” he said, watching as the girl ran from them, clutching at her throat, “we may as well do what we came here to do.” He reached up and unceremoniously removed the dark gloves from his long-fingered hands. Burying the gloves deep in his cloak pockets, he gestured to the others. “Space yourselves out and spread chaos as quickly as you can. Leave them both to me. On my signal, return to Delseroy.”
He began to run, hurtling through the mist, following the road as it sloped gently up. Breathing in the damp scent of the mist, he felt his power stir. He glanced from left to right and, flinging his arms out to the sides, released several strands of orange fire from each palm. The flames careened through the mist and exploded into the houses on each side of the street. The fire licked at the wooden frames, irrespective of the damp that had settled there, and quickly spread. Citizens who woke to find their homes aflame began to yell and shout in fear and their cries rose into the night air, breaking the silence.
The sorcerer grinned and ran on, reveling in the screams. The fires sprang from house to house, moving steadily east with the wind. Despite the chaos spreading quickly in the lower city, the residents of the higher districts were still asleep and oblivious of the attack. Varren reached the second wall, the barrier that separated the lower from the middle city and, noticing that the gates were barred tightly shut, summoned his power. With a flurry of black smoke and a sharp crack, he disappeared, only to reappear a moment later on the middle city side of the wall.
A dog nearby began to bark but it would be a long while before its owners would understand why.
*
Emil Latrett woke abruptly but was not immediately aware of what had startled him. He sat up and listened intently. As far as he could tell, the castle was quiet and calm in the early hours of morning but the hairs on the back of his neck were prickling. Being a man who always trusted his instincts, he dressed quickly, threw his cloak about his shoulders and left his quarters. The courtyard was dark and silent but there was a strange scent in the air. It did not take him long to recognize the smell of fresh magic.
At once, he gripped the balustrade in his large hands and slipped onto the soul plane. The darkness intensified before his eyes and, a moment later, bright visions of figures appeared, drifting about him as though in water, and his spirit wandered among them. He approached one of the forms lying in bed on the floor above, her mind murmuring in sleepless thought.
Kayte, he spoke to her and saw her raise her head a little from where she slept. Wake up. There is something amiss.
Without waiting to see whether she complied, he drifted away from her and sought out Markus. The aging wizard was sitting in an armchair, apparently having fallen asleep while reading. The shaman penetrated his dreaming mind and repeated the message. Then, in turn, he went to each of the members of the Circle, even Angora, and roused them from their beds. They met him by the balustrade.
“What is it?” Kayte asked.
“I sensed my double somewhere in the city,” Emil said to them, “but I doubt Lhunannon would have come alone.”
“Yes, I think I sense Tarvenna,” Markus said presently. “If those two are here, then it’s safe to assume they all are.”
“Where?” Tiderius asked.
“The sense was fairly weak, but unmistakable. I guess Lhunannon, at least, is in the lower city, perhaps the middle.”
“I smell smoke,” Aiyla added. “I fear what they might be doing to the people down there.”
Emil turned to Angora. “They are seeking their revenge.”
“You should not be surprised,” Angora said, folding her arms. “I did warn you.”
“I don’t think we need to discuss what to do,” Tiderius said.
“But have you recovered enough to fight?” Markus asked, glancing at his bandaged arm and leg with doubt. “I know Emil has been helping the process significantly, but – ”
“I’ve had a week, and I’m not going to sit in bed when the city is in danger!” Tiderius said dismissively. “Come on, Angora.”
“Wait!” Emil exclaimed, clutching Angora’s arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To protect the people,” she replied defiantly.
“And you expect us to trust you,” Emil asked angrily, “after everything you’ve said and done?”
“I do not expect nor want your trust,” Angora snapped, shaking her arm free of Emil’s grasp. “What I do expect is that you uphold the will of the Spirits and let me do my duty!”
“And give you back your weapon so you can release your husband? No!”
“Then lock me up as well!” Angora cried. “If you do not trust me to help your citizens, why did you go to so much effort to bring me back here?”
“We didn’t want you fighting for the other side,” Emil growled. “You know that!”
“If you think I would ever harm a civilian, then you are horribly mistaken. Nor would I stand by and watch them get beaten into the dust by Vrór or anyone else! I did not give up my duty when I married King Samian, I simply stopped taking your orders! Now, will you accept my help in getting your people to safety or are you going to turn me aside and face the consequences?”
Emil opened his mouth to argue further but stopped himself. There was very little time to waste and, though he was doubtful, he saw a glimpse of the same quiet determination in her eyes that had driven her through her three years of service to Queen Sorcha. His mind screamed at him to object, for what was to stop her from taking her weapon and making a quick escape with King Samian while the city burned? However, the fact remained that Tiderius was not yet back to full strength and they did need someone to keep Vrór at bay.
“There’s four men guarding your husband,” Markus informed Angora, looking at her sternly. “They have been ordered to stop you should you attempt to see him. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said bitterly.
Markus turned to Emil. “I could remain behind to watch him, if you think it best.”
Emil’s brow furrowed as he thought. Though he did not doubt Angora would wish to retrieve her husband, he suspected she would not risk hurting a single guard, let alone four, in the process.
“Do I have your word that you will not aid the Ayons in attacking the castle?” Emil asked.
“Would you truly accept my word if I gave it?”
“It is up to you whether you think your word is worthy!” Markus interjected. “While we stand here arguing, civilian
s may well be dying! We must trust in her good judgment, Emil, and pray we are not wrong!”
The shaman grunted and ran his hand through his long braids.
“I give you my word,” Angora said through gritted teeth, “that I will not aid anyone in their attempt to attack this castle, nor will I hurt any of your guards should I find myself in the dungeons.”
“But – ”
“That will have to do,” Markus said. “Angora, you’ll find your staff in the meeting room in the chest by the door.” He glanced at Emil and shook his head. “Use it well.”
Emil glowered at Angora, then turned away. “I hope your word is worth something.”
*
The mist swirled before the castle gates, obscuring the far end of the forecourt. The silence seemed impenetrable, even the wind had stilled. The wardens behind the doors talked quietly together to pass the time until they were relieved. They had long since sat down on the marble floor of the entrance hall to give their legs some respite.
“Hope that mist doesn’t confuse the next shift,” one of them grumbled. “Don’t want to stay here a moment longer than’s necessary.”
“Yeah,” another agreed dismally. “Oh, smell that? I think they’ve burned something in the kitchens.”
“I hope it’s not our breakfast.”
Their laughter died with the sound of approaching hurried footsteps from the other side of the castle doors. The first warden stood and moved to open the hatch, but no sooner had his hand touched the iron bar, than the gates trembled.
“Fire!” a man shouted, pounding his fists upon the doors. “Open the gates! The city is on fire!”
The second warden clambered to his feet and stared apprehensively at his colleague. The first opened the hatch in the door and peered out. A man’s face appeared on the other side, his hair disheveled, his cheeks smudged with soot and dirt. He desperately pointed back the way he had come. The warden peered through the hatch at the misty barrier and his eyes widened. There was a slight orange tint to it now.