“He looks much better,” said Falcon.
“Yes,” said Faith. “Now pay close attention, because what happens next will shape Volcseck’s life in ways I don’t think even he imagined.”
Falcon expected some grand revelation to happen. Perhaps a holy cleansing. But nothing quite that grandiose occurred. Instead they walked down the mountain deep in conversation. Quite some time later they arrived at a small village nestled around a body of water. It had no gates, so it was easy to see the few grass and mud huts that had been erected. Children played with rocks and sticks, chasing each other and pretending to be wielders. Two scraggly dogs followed them where they went, barking after them.
Before they even stepped foot in the village, Volcseck’s expression turned sour. “I’ll wait for you here,” he said, motioning at a dead tree stump.
“Nonsense,” said Lunet. “With Demetrius out hunting, I need a strong young man to help me carry the bags.”
“But I—”
“Besides, this will give you a chance to make some friends. Go play with the boys while I get the food.”
“If I can’t wait here, then I’d rather stay with you.” Volcseck’s voice was timid, and Falcon wondered what it was that had put him in such a state alertness.
Lunet studied him for a second. “Fine, then. But next time I expect you to play with the boys. I want you to make some friends. All those hours you spend alone in your room can’t be healthy.”
He nodded, though he did not seem the least enthusiastic about her proposal. They moved past the children and into the village, their footsteps smacking softly in the muddy ground.
“Why is he so scared?” asked Falcon.
“Watch,” was Faith’s only response.
Falcon noticed that Volcseck was doing a superb job of keeping out of sight. He kept close to Lunet with his head down. Whenever someone would walk past them, he would do something to cover his face. Sometimes he would scratch his cheek, rub his eyes, or run his hand through his hair.
“Good morning, Lunet,” said a woman with a mustache that could rival any man’s. She was covered in what appeared to be a potato sack, tied at the hip with a rope. Her arms and legs were the hairiest Falcon had ever seen. “Come for more cheese?”
Lunet nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Helfa. I was hoping to make some blue cheese broth for my two special men.”
Volcseck blushed.
“Two?” This was obviously news to Mrs. Helfa, for her lips twisted in confusion. “I was unaware that you and Demetrius had a son. Where have you been hiding him for all these years?”
Lunet giggled softly. “I haven’t been hiding him. He’s my adoptive boy.”
There was a low oh by Mrs. Helfa. Her eyes zeroed in on the small boy. “What’s your name?”
Volcseck hid behind the holy wielder.
“Go on, Volcseck,” urged Lunet. “Introduce yourself.”
“Volcseck!” Mrs. Helfa’s eyes grew wide. “Lunet, get away from that monster!”
“Monster?” Lunet seemed at a loss for words.
The few villagers nearby rallied behind Mrs. Helfa.
“Get back, creature!” cried a short man who held a knife in his hand. He had a bloody apron that identified him as the butcher.
Volcseck took a few steps back, gritting his teeth, and Falcon couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him. He, himself, had faced the prejudices of people back in Ladria, and it wasn’t something he wished on anyone else.
Lunet put herself between the villagers and the boy. “Step back, Mr. Loomis. You too, Mrs. Helfa. My little Volcseck is no monster.”
As if itching to prove her wrong, Volcseck’s skin turned deep brown with shades of black. Lunet gasped and her eyes widened, but a second later her features returned to normal.
“See?” said the butcher. “He is the son of the witch who lives on the mountain pass. The last time he was here he nearly killed my youngest one with his unholy power. He needs to die!”
The following events all happened in a matter of a few breaths. Mr. Loomis moved in with his long knife, determined to end the boy. In his rush, he tripped over his own legs and staggered to the ground. A low scream escaped his mouth, followed by a grunt. He turned around, revealing that the knife had dug into his ribs.
“Serves you right,” said Volcseck. “Now to finish you off.”
Lunet moved quickly. First she set her hand on Volcseck’s head. The boy’s normal features returned to him. Then, she turned her attention to Mr. Loomis. She pulled out the knife, which sent a wave of screams trough the scared villagers. Lunet then applied pressure to the wound. Her holy emblem glowed and a moment later the wound had closed.
The butcher’s breaths returned to normal.
“See?” said Mrs. Helfa, spitting at the ground beside Volcseck. “That boy brings with him nothing but misfortune.” The villagers nodded in obvious approval. “I think I speak for all of us when I say that you’re welcome here any time you want, Lunet. That creature of yours, however, isn’t.”
Lunet’s eyes flitted past the angry woman and to the people behind her. She looked sad but determined. “I’m sorry you all feel that way. If my boy is not welcome here, then neither am I.”
There were a few protests from some of the women, begging for Lunet to reconsider, but their words landed on deaf ears. She took Volcseck’s hand and led him out of the village and back into the mountain.
Night had enveloped the land when Volcseck dared to speak.
“Why did you protect me? I’m a monster, you saw it yourself.” Despite Volcseck’s tough exterior, Falcon noticed he was breaking down inside. He could see it in his shaky hands, the long breaths he took, and in his watery gaze. Obviously he had not expected anyone to stand by him after he’d revealed who he really was.
“You’re my boy now,” she said, holding him in a close hug. “And even if you weren’t, you have a special gift that should be shared with the world.”
Volcseck’s tears flowed freely as he returned the hug. He was sobbing into her dress, leaving deep wet marks on the cloth.
The scene dissipated, and Falcon found himself sitting atop the rock, staring at Faith.
“He found a mother that day,” she said. “The same way you found a father the night K’ran took you in.”
Falcon was at a loss. “What was the use of this? To show me that I’m destined to become a heartless criminal just like him?”
“No.” Faith met his gaze. “This is to show you that Volcseck isn’t as heartless as you may believe him to be. He was touched by the spirit of a holy wielder once.”
“Yes,” countered Falcon, feeling angry. Why was she defending the man who murdered both of their mothers? “A holy wielder that he killed, or did you already forget that?”
“He killed her physically, yes. I don’t think he killed the spirit she gave him, though.”
“Now I’m just lost. I don’t know what you expect me to do when I meet him. Holy wield him? We both know that I’m no good at that.”
“I don’t expect you to do anything. You will make your own choices, as you have always done. I do hope, however…” Her voice cracked. “That when you meet him, you remember that killing isn’t the only solution.”
Really? Does she know who she’s talking to? “You may be able to forgive and see the good in everyone, but that’s not me. It’s my lifetime goal to make Volcseck pay for what he did. I’m not going to let anyone take that away from me.”
“Hyatt, Hemstath!” came the shout. It was Sheridan. He was running toward them waving his hands in the air.
Falcon readied himself. It seemed that every time Sheridan looked for him, it was to deliver bad news.
Sure enough, Sheridan did not break the norm. “The Suteckh are here!”
Chapter 30
Melousa strode down the palace hall, her footsteps echoing softly on the marble floor. When the Blood Empress had told her that she wanted her to simply walk into the palace through the front gates, Mel
ousa had thought the empress to be mad. No one, especially somebody her size, could possibly walk into the palace undetected. Nonetheless, here she was, moving within the walls of her greatest enemy’s’ home. The cloak the Blood Empress had put over her was working much better than she had first anticipated, and Melousa found herself wondering how the dark wielder could manage to hold such an ability from such a long distance.
Melousa frowned, pushing her massive body against the wall as three Missean soldiers, clad in brown armor, dashed past her. They were so close that she could smell the human stench that reeked from them. It took all her will power not to reach out and snap their necks.
There was no use in giving away her position just yet. Surprise was an advantage she was not ready to surrender.
She stepped through the grand hall, savoring the kill that now seemed so close. She stayed close to the walls and waited for a moment, making sure to not run into the soldiers who were sprinting up and down. They were no doubt about to take positions around the castle in an attempt to protect the empress during the attack. She smirked at the futility of their plan.
Once the hall had been cleared, she moved toward the throne room, where her enemy would no doubt be.
She climbed the stairs. Her eyes settled on the wide open doors, beckoning her in. Within moments, she crossed the carpet and stood outside the grand hall. It was a large room with green and red plants aligned against the walls. The room itself was nearly empty, save for a number of cushioned chairs that were set up at the center. There was a large balcony that led to the outside. In it stood the woman who had ruined her life all those years ago. The years had definitely been kind to Empress Latiha, which only served to infuriate Melousa even more. Despite being over a century old, she looked to be in her late sixties. The empress stood on her balcony, overlooking the city. She wore a long white robe. Golden earrings hung from her ears. At her side stood two guards. From the pins on their chest, Melousa knew they were Rohads.
The Orian queen reached for the double doors and slammed them shut. Empress Latiha, along with the two Rohads, stared toward the explosion of sound, utterly bewildered.
“I see the Golden Wielder’s protection spell had benefits to yer aging. Too bad he not be here no longer!”
“Melousa,” said Latiha quickly, recognizing the deep voice. “Why do you hide like a thief in the night?”
Thief? Melousa’s blood boiled. She tapped her arm twice as the Blood Empress had instructed her to do. A second later she was fully visible. “The Queen of the Orians does not be a thief. It was yer who stole from me!”
Latiha took a step forward, her footsteps echoing loudly. “For the last time, Queen Melousa, I did not steal from you. Your sister chose to leave your clan by her own accord.”
“Yer be quiet! Yer stole her from me. Now I will steal yer life as repayment!”
At the sign of the threat, the Rohads took a defensive position before the empress.
The male Rohad turned to his female counterpart. “I’ll go in close range, Lenka. You back me up with your wielding.”
The skinny girl with the void emblem nodded. “Y-yes, Relis.”
The queen felt rejuvenated by the fear in the eyes of the Rohads. She knew that fearful prey was the easiest to squash. This was going to be easier than she had initially thought.
Relis moved in with his sword. From afar, Lenka closed her eyes, concentrating her attacks into blue orbs of water.
The queen recognized the strategy well. It was one that worked well in two against one attacks. One attacker would keep her busy with weapon attacks, while the other attacker would land element attacks from afar. It was a sound strategy but one that was useless against her. Her ancient skin would make sure of that.
Relis brought his curved sword down in an arch. Melousa grabbed the weapon, ignoring the flames that engulfed the weapon.
“Got her!” cheered Lenka. Her celebration died out when the paltry water orb splashed against her muscular ribs without even causing a dent. “What the?”
“Now be my turn!” The Orian warrior moved with a speed honed by years of intense training. Her fist drove into the unsuspecting Relis. Winded, he staggered back a few paces, only to have Melousa snatch the weapon from his hand. With a scream, she ran his own sword through his neck, almost severing his body in two.
Having dispatched one adversary, she turned her attention to the other two.
For a moment, Lenka stood still, body shaking. She took a deep breath, seemingly collecting herself. Her hands smacked together. She then opened her arms. From between her elbows emerged a sword of mud. It left a trail of muck on the floor as Lenka sent it flying forward, tip pointed at her enemy.
It didn’t matter. Melousa took the hit to her chest in stride. Having closed the distance, she drove her knee into the skinny girl’s torso. The sound of cracking ribs was audible as Lenka fell. She rolled on the ground heaving and spitting out blood.
“Weak void wielder be dead!” She brought her fists together and drove down, eager to deliver the finishing blow.
Her moment of triumph was taken by a well-placed blow to her ribs by the empress. Melousa rubbed the place where the attack had landed, surprised the old woman could hit so hard.
“Yer be strong, Latiha.” She beat her chest. “But not as strong as yer used to be!” A hand clutched her around the leg. She looked down at the pathetic sight of Lenka trying to hold her back.
Seeing an opportunity, Latiha threw herself at Melousa with a flurry of punches. They were placed well enough but were slow. The Orian queen dodged the attacks easily. She counterattacked with a single punch that landed on Latiha’s cranium. The empress fell down to one knee.
Tired of wasting time, Melousa wrapped her hand around Lenka’s neck. She applied force, snapping the neck like a twig.
She savored the taste of victory as she thundered toward the downed Empress. “In our last bout yer had that wench, Ishani to save yer. Too bad she not be here anymore!” Melousa kneed Latiha in the face. The empress fell to the floor. Blood poured from her broken nose, soiling her white robe.
Latiha tried to say something, but Melousa brought her elbow down on the empress’s face. The sharp sound of bones breaking and Latiha’s whimper of pain sent shivers of adrenaline surging through Melousa’s veins. She mounted the empress, and with her giant hand, she covered most of Latiha’s face.
“That be right,” hissed Melousa as the empress kicked and flailed her arms in a futile attempt to break free. The Orian queen brought her muscular knees down on Latiha’s arms, effectively pinning her to the floor. Her enemy’s blood gushed between Melousa’s fingertips and her body shivered. The thrill of seeing her mortal enemy so submissive was exhilarating.
She had come close to killing Latiha many years ago. She had held her down in this exact position, except that time, when victory was so close, the Golden Wielder’s woman, Ishani, had come to her friend’s aid. In her many years, Melousa had only tasted defeat that one time. Now, however, the savage queen reveled in the fact that there was no Ishani to hinder her plans.
“Where be yer precious friend now!” Melousa pressed down once more. Latiha moaned one more pained whimper, and then her body went still.
Elated, Melousa removed her hands, staring down at the bloody figure that was once the elegant empress. It was time to make an example of the Missean leader. She laced her fingers around her fallen adversary’s leg, pulling her toward the balcony. There she would hang Latiha for her subjects to see. With their beloved empress dead, the Missean people would surely lose their will to fight.
“Come say hello to yer people,” she said, making sure to break Latiha’s knees as she pulled her. Latiha could feel no more pain, but the sound of snapping bones sounded so good that she did the same to every finger, toe, and arm of her adversary.
Cackling to herself, she tied the rope around Latiha’s neck. It was time to make the Missean army crumble.
Chapter 31
“
Let me in,” said Keira. Maru, her polar bear cub, ran beside her, providing the vision she needed to move so quickly. The loud footsteps of her aide, Raji, thundered a step behind her.
The guards who stood on the palace gates apparently recognized her, because they moved aside, letting her dash through the yard, into the palace, up the stairs, and down the hallway.
As a young girl, Keira had thought that being blind was a handicap. After all, many were the playing sessions she couldn’t attend because of her lack of vision. The palace plays put on by the jesters provided no entertainment. How could they when she had no idea what was going on? However, now she knew that having been born blind was actually a blessing. It had allowed her to create a bond with her bears that before would have been unheard of. And having lost the gift of sight had other unforeseen, but beneficial consequences. Her other four senses, taste, sound, touch, and smell, had been enhanced to the point where she had inhuman intuition, an intuition that led her here.
Moments ago, she had been on the frontlines with Aya, ready for the attack, when she sensed a slight disturbance moving beside her. She had looked over at the collection of large rocks that rose and fell unevenly. The feeling that something or someone was moving over them came again. Aya had told her that there was nothing there, and indeed, using the vision provided by her bears, she herself did not see any movement.
“I must be going crazy,” she had told Aya, returning her attention to the Suteckh army that had amassed before the city walls.
However, three minutes ago the feeling had come again. This time it was inside the palace. The cloak seemed to have fallen, revealing a dreadful vengeful spirit.
“I have to go,” Keira had said. “The empress is in danger.”
Aya, who had learned to trust her unconditionally, nodded and said, “Go then.”
Her black and brown bears, Draiven and Aykori, had wanted to come with her. Keira had ordered them to stay behind, though. They would be needed in the upcoming battle. Besides, she only needed one bear for visibility. It wasn’t as good, but it was better than nothing.
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