Kate's Legacy (Soul Merge Saga Book 2)

by M. P. A. Hanson

  “I want to lead the rebel dragon forces against Darla.” Tyrone said after a measured silence. “They lack competent leadership, they have little to no tactical or military experience, and even less practice in killing demons.”

  “And you have all these things?”

  “Read my mind, I’ve been in more battles than I could count for more centuries than I could possibly remember.”

  Romana delved into his mind at his invitation, searching for any evidence of deceit, and finding…nothing. None of the scheming or plotting she’d expected, instead there was only remorse, tiredness and guilt. The revelation that perhaps this general was more than he appeared hit her like a charging horse.

  She pulled back, suddenly sorry for her less than gentle invasion of his mind.

  “You speak truly.” She muttered. “If I told Icarus and Ash to vouch for you then your request would be granted, but is it honestly what you want?”

  “I was built for war.” Was his only reply.

  But that was what she was afraid of, Romana thought as she left the room some moments later, but she didn’t get to think for too much longer as Silver finally got tired of knocking and barged into the front of her mind, slamming her into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  THE SITUATION AT HAND

  Silver combed the girls mind for information, key among them, the location of Kobos’ army, the location of Prince Marten and the nearest bakery. Finding all of them quickly, she snorted at the girls resistance. Did Romana honestly think that a set of flashy shields would stop her, an immortal who’d lived for thousands of years? Ridiculous child.

  Teleporting to just outside the bakery in Morendor she peeked through the window and quickly spotted what she was looking for, teleporting the pasty straight from the display, she stopped for a moment at the thought of crumbs getting on her catsuit, which had come into being along with herself. But hell, who cared, the thing would probably clean itself

  Back to the situation at hand, she thought. She still had to inform one severely annoying princeling - no, kingling now, she reminded herself - that the enemy’s army will be suffering from severe losses when they finally got around to fighting.

  She teleported to his study, finding him asleep at his desk, for goodness sake, she thought as she came over to him so that her mouth was right by his ear.

  “I’ve got Romana here and if you don’t wake up I’m going to start shoving wooden splinters under her fingernails.” She whispered.

  He jumped up with a start, his animal traits keeping him from sleeping through that kind of threat.

  “You again?” He asked, sounding almost tired.

  “I could go home…” She began. “But then you’d lose the opportunity to rid Kobos of a thousand of his men in minutes.”

  “You’re not that good.” He muttered.

  “Oh well.” She took a bite of the pasty and chewed it. “I’ll just sit back and watch the world come to an end.”

  He gave a long drawn out sigh. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I’ll give you a front row seat.” She replied mysteriously, teleporting him to a hill outside one of several camps that Kobos’ allies had set up. “Like a bite?” She asked, offering him the pasty.

  He looked at her incredulous. “You’re planning on killing over a thousand men and you’re offering me a pasty?”

  “Suit yourself.” She replied in an absent minded tone, taking quick bites to finish off the perfectly made beverage. “Just be sure to repay the bakery for me tomorrow morning, I am working for my dinner you know.”

  With that last comment, she turned to face the neatly set up camp then let her head roll back as she stretched her arms. This would have been so much easier if Kate hadn’t put that damn compulsion on her making it so she couldn’t use Romana’s magic, not that she didn’t have plenty of her own, but most of hers came with horrible side effects. Well, apart from her inborn gift, the one piece of magic she hadn’t stolen.

  No. Using her magic was far too risky, she dismissed her own thoughts, wondering why, at now of all times, she was thinking of a gift she’d happily ignored for over two millennia.

  Frustrated at her own stupidity, she drew both of her swords and stared down at the campsite with elvensight, noting the way each man slept with his upper half laying out of the tent, the only ones who didn’t were the officers, and those she could take care of easily.

  Noting the twenty sentries appointed to watch over the camp, she carefully ran down to them at elvenspeed, or rather the faster version that Romana’s Ancient heritage provided the body they shared.

  Quick slices dispatched the human sentries, who didn’t even know she was coming. She circled the camp once, noting the straight, uniform lines of tents, and quietly thanked the stupidity of the fool who was to make it so easy for her.

  With one sword, she ran down the first line of sleeping men on the southern side of the camp, cutting their throats as they slept, hearing the wet gurgling as they died. She paused at the end, then did the same for row after row after row of grey tents. Skirting the officers tents that took up the centre of the camp, she finished off the men sleeping in the north. Her speed was so great, and her swords so sharp that the blood didn’t spray from the wounds for several seconds after they were opened. When the pawns of the game were all dead, their blood running in a crimson river down the hillside, she moved to the centre, where lights still shone through the canvas of the officers larger tents.

  Some were asleep, and she killed them easily, but the majority were elves, and she smiled as they saw her, then grinned wider as she cut out their voice boxes, preventing them from screaming.

  When she reached the captains tent, she paused by a gap in the canvas, listening to the conversation beyond.

  “I gave her the herbs like you told me, master.” The captain said, his voice filled with pride. “The little wytch is unconscious in the underground base.”

  “She will be my bait.” Silver bristled as she heard Kobos’ voice hiss from inside the tent. Instantly she threw up a strong camouflaging shield to hide her presence. “I require someone to replenish the magic required to create my demons. From what you tell me she has enough power to be a queen.”

  “Shall I send men to fetch her for you?” The eager captain replied

  “No need.” Kobos replied. “I will go to her now.”

  Silver felt the sensation of a rough teleport, and knew that Kobos was gone, in that moment she stormed inside, grabbing the elven captain by his armour and throwing him out of the tent onto the ground with enough force to shake a dragon. She leapt after him, landing straddling his chest.

  “Who has he taken?!” She demanded, Romana’s outrage colouring her words and actions. “Which wytch have you taken from the Isle of the Gifted?” She pressed a sword to his eye when he remained silent. “Tell me or you lose an eye today.”

  But he remained silent.

  Silver forced the girl back into the recesses of her mind, smiled evilly, and did the deed that the queen of wytchdom would never be able to bring herself to do. Slowly, she sheathed her sword, clamping her thighs around his struggling chest as she did so. He moaned as ribs snapped under the force.

  She smiled and withdrew a silver knife, before pressing it to his eye, and patiently gouging it from his skull.

  His shrieks shook the night, along with her laugh. She used magic to keep him conscious, and when he finally stopped screaming, she pressed the blade to his other eye.

  “You don’t know what I’ll cut off when I finish with your eyes, but I guarantee that you won’t like it at all.” She threatened.

  “Better that than dead.” He yelled.

  She began to press down, but a hand on her arm stopped her.

  Silver gave the prince of the human realms an annoyed glance. Why did he have to choose now of all times to interrupt?

  “Stop this.”

  “I need some information from him.” She replied, turnin
g back to the captain and smiling. The man started begging the prince for mercy in response.

  “There are more effective ways.” He argued.

  “I had him begging after one eye. Wait until I move on to the other one to tell me that it’s not effective.” She jabbed the knife into the man’s empty socket, drawing out a keening cry from him.

  “Stop this.” The princeling demanded.

  “No need to get upset little prince.” She muttered, withdrawing her knife but as soon as relief registered on his face she stabbed down into the man’s other eye with such force that the eyeball popped from his skull.

  “I refuse to watch this.” He muttered.

  “I did the same when I was much younger.” Silver replied calmly. “Then they bolted my head forwards so I wouldn’t have a choice.” She ripped open the man’s armour and began slicing her name over his heart. His screams grew louder before a blade touched her own neck.

  “Stop or I’ll kill you.” Marten warned.

  She rolled her eyes and pushed his blade away with her fingers, looking in fascination at the blood that welled from the cuts it left behind.

  Sensing her movement, her blind prey writhed beneath her.

  “Oh shut up.” She muttered, standing and stamping suddenly on his legs, snapping both femurs in one painful blow. She then turned to face the princeling. “Now, you were going to try and kill a three thousand year old wytch with a talent for blood.”

  He didn’t visibly quake as others had, but the idiot had to know what was coming for him. To his credit he blocked around ten of her blows with the long knife before she opened up a gash on his inner thigh and sent him crumpling to the ground.

  “Look what you made me do.” She stated, using her foot to prod the injury. The princeling tried to stab her calf in revenge for the relatively small pain, but she knocked the blade from his hand. “I’m going to get the information I need my way. If you have a problem with that then I can give you an eye adjustment as well.”

  In reply he drew another, smaller blade and sent it spinning towards her neck.

  It caught her jugular, and blood began to flow. She shook it off like an irksome fly, pressing her hand to the blood in the wound she let magic flow to repair the skin.as she drew a line down his side with his own knife.

  “Maybe I should link your body to Romana’s.” She pondered. “You know that I could make it so that every wound you were given appeared on her as well. That might encourage you not to challenge me.” She thought about it, but logically, with a war going on and Marten’s rash nature, there was too great a chance of her host’s body becoming irreparably damaged. Still, she let the bait hang there in the silence that was punctured only by the man’s screams. She watched with something that may have once been amusement as the princeling battled his pride against his love.

  “I won’t have her hurt. If you do any such thing I’ll kill you.”

  “You do realise that the two would be mutually exclusive in that situation. I hurt her, you hurt yourself trying to hurt me which hurts her further.” She smirked, then boredom returned again. “If you want to leave, your castle is fifty leagues to the east. Have fun walking with a cut up leg.” Silver informed him. “But if you want to save one of your precious queen of wytchdom’s wytch queens, then you’ll stay.”

  Marten shoved his hand through his hair, twisted to look eastwards, and then looked back at her again.

  “I’m going to limp over to that hill and ignore—”

  And there went that oh so royal saying, ‘what you don’t know, you can’t be responsible for’. “No!” She growled at him. “You will face up to what you’re deciding to allow. No more hiding behind the work of others.” Her family had done that for all these years. If a royal committed any crime there was always a patriot ready to take the blame for it.

  He stared at her. “Why are you punishing me like this?”

  “I’m not punishing you,” She replied. “I’m saving you from falling into that age old royal mistake of blaming someone else.” She looked at his expression, annoyed at the reluctance. This was for his own good, really it was. “Besides, when you get back you can ask Romana to come give you a cuddle and kiss the mental scars better.”

  “Mention her name one more time and you’re dead.”

  “We’ve had this discussion. You can’t kill me. I seem to remember you and Endis stabbing a sword through my chest at one point. I’m still alive, surprise, surprise.”

  “If you’re going to do this, do it quickly.” He snapped in reply.

  At that very moment she decided to make this torture one of her longest yet.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  A RESCUE AND A RETREAT

  “We kidnapped the Wytch Queen of Horses and Cats a few hours ago, Mistress.” The broken man mumbled on his knees in front of her. “She was seduced to our side by a man who we made oblivious to the situation and controlled like a puppet. She’s being held in the camp three days ride west of here.”

  “Picture it in your mind.” Silver commanded the man, then I want you to wait until we’re gone, then take your knife, and stab it through your chest into your heart, do not stop until you can see the blade poking out of your back.” An elf as young as he was would die from that injury alone, but with the amount of torture she’d put him through, death wouldn’t take much.

  “Yes Mistress.”

  She surged into his mind, pulling the image from it before turning and walking to where Marten had gone to vomit several minutes ago.

  “Are you feeling better or shall I go get you a priest?” She asked mockingly when she found him bent double behind a tent, the smell of vomit pungent in the cool night air.

  He just gave her a look.

  “Nice to know you can cope so well. I’d love to see you on the battlefield.” She commented sarcastically.

  “Battlefields generally don’t contain masked women peeling the skin from a man’s leg.” He muttered. “Why couldn’t you be into embroidery like normal women?”

  “I was born into war.” She said, but without warning the oracles gift came up again. “And I will die in war also. This war will be remembered for all time, and the other power greedy children of Ancient blood will not attempt anything like it again, but their thoughts will turn to subtlety.” She wrenched herself out of the time stream by sheer force of will. “Hell.” She muttered, lurching back towards where the battered broken man had been standing, maybe he had enough blood left that she would be able to ground herself with it. But when she got there he was already dead on the ground. The blood was lifeless, dead, and now of no use to her. She cursed.

  “Need some help?” Marten asked.

  “I will never need anyone’s help.” Silver muttered, now at her most unstable due to the lack of connection to the earth. “Nobody else got me out of that prison. No one else was put through torture before they could talk and come out perfect. No one else!”

  The smell of blood carpeted the camp, all of it lifeless, so she forced herself to look further into the woods. The animals nearest had fled as the scent of death reached them, the only ones that stayed were the buzzards and vultures circling above the carcasses, and she was too weak to jump, damn it.

  She sat down on the ground, forcing herself to concentrate, there must be something she could feed from.

  Suddenly a wrist was forced to her lips, while a hand covered her nose, cutting off her air. But before she could react, she saw a glimpse of red which, of course, triggered her long nurtured survival instinct and she latched onto the source of blood eagerly.

  When she was grounded once more she pulled back and looked at the kingling. When would she cease to be surprised by his actions?

  She nodded her head in thanks, but knew she would never apologise for her words, it just wasn’t something she did. But she did acknowledge that he had risked leaving her his memories with his blood.

  “I saw nothing.” She assured him. “Perhaps your Halfling blood makes you
immune to the process?”

  “Or you were wrong and it doesn’t happen.” He commented. “When do we leave to rescue the wytch?”

  “Before they find what we did here.”

  “That wouldn’t take long. By the size of this camp it had to be one of the main ones. The death of this many people will be bad for his morale.” Marten analysed the situation quickly and cleanly.

  “This isn’t your fist war, is it?” Silver muttered.

  “When I was younger there was a border skirmish occurring between the elves and the dwarves at about the time that I ran away. I was a master tactician by the end of it.”

  “And on the battlefield?”

  “I fought as well.” He muttered.

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Barely two years.” He muttered, “I’d just returned to the human kingdom when I brought Romana, which seems to be when everything started.”

  “You’re suggesting she was a trigger.” Silver suggested. “It is possible that Kobos had servants within your court who detected her magic the moment she arrived. She must have made a tempting target.” Thankfully, however, the servant must have been so weak that they could only detect massively magical talents, and not the layers of magic that encased Silver’s soul, or rather, what was left of it.

  “We should leave, do you know where you’re going?”

  “Don’t trust me?” She asked. “I don’t blame you.”

  “I think I trust you too much.” He muttered, probably thinking she wouldn’t hear as she teleported them both to a hillside that she could see from the memoires of the ex-captain.

  The barren landscape greeted them, craggy boulders scattered across moors that stretched on in either direction without any decent tree cover in sight. Whoever was here would know the instant anyone got too close.

  “They’re underground.” Silver muttered. “It’s like a rabbits warren, there won’t be any less than half a dozen exits.”