The Crown of Stones: Magic-Borne

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The Crown of Stones: Magic-Borne Page 12

by C. L. Schneider


  Behind me, Jarryd’s voice was faint. “That’s not a guard change.”

  I agreed. Whatever the procession was, I didn’t want to get caught in it.

  I stopped in front of the door and the guards exchanged a look; wordlessly debating whether or not to challenge me. They had no precedent to draw from and were unsure how to handle Rella’s champion-turned-fugitive-turned-champion again showing up on their watch.

  As the storm of oncoming boots grew louder, my patience stretched to nothing. I sighed. The guards exchanged another glance. As they moved to unbar the door (most likely deciding it was better to have me gone), the deafening footsteps behind us ceased.

  A masculine voice filled the sudden silence. “Halt!” The accent was Arullan, heavy, and full of ire. “On whose authority do you roam freely through the halls of the Rellan King?”

  I grinned at the startled guards. “Relax, boys. I think he’s talking to me.”

  Turning around, I eyed the tight formation of Arullan warriors extending back through the hall. There was a bend in the corridor, but I estimated their number at seventy five. Their appearance was vastly different from the men and women I’d fought with under Aylagar’s command. Instead of the distinctive lightweight leathers that showed more of their sleek, dark skin than most considered safe on a battlefield, these Arullans were layered in heavy leather, overlain with chain and plate mail. Hands wrapped in steel gauntlets, heads covered in helms; on many only their faces were visible. I still had no trouble identifying them. Arullans were known for their exotic, angular, and often attractive features. The majority of troops filling Malaq’s foyer were no exception.

  There was a peculiar air about the man standing out in front, though. Outfitted in a glossy silver tunic, black trousers, and red leather waistcoat, he resembled a lord more than a military man. His flat nose rested between two perfectly-distanced eyes. Round and alert, the white circling the dark stood stark against his almond colored skin. His conspicuously slick attire was a strange contrast to the mass of black braids hanging down his back and the ink on his face. It was a bird of some kind, smack in the center of his forehead. Perched on a rock positioned dead center above his eyebrows, the birds wings were spread wide like open arms.

  The design wanted to give the impression of friendship and welcome. I knew better.

  He spoke again, his tone gruff. “I asked you a question, witch. I suggest you speak. Or has your owner already removed your demon tongue?”

  Eyes fierce, voice scathing, Jarryd stepped in between. “Who the hell are you?”

  The bird man snapped his long, slender fingers. Ten warriors lifted their spears and pointed the etched tips at Jarryd’s chest.

  Seeing him move for a weapon, I cut off Jarryd’s reckless response. “Stand down, Nef’taali. It’s me he has a problem with.” I raised my hands to show they were empty and moved closer. “Either you have really poor judgment, Arullan, or this is all a misunderstanding.” His warriors’ eyes followed me, but no one interfered as I overtook Jarryd and put him behind me. “In the interest of not spilling any more blood on the island today, why don’t you send for the Queen? She can explain everything. We’re all on the same side here.”

  “The Shinree have no side.” His fingers snapped again and I was surrounded. “Your kind have no significance. No voice. No right to speak. If they were not slaves to the higher races, they would be slaves to their own bodies.” He shouldered through the crowd of warriors encircling me until we were nose to nose. “The Shinree deserve no better treatment than a donkey bred for labor.” Nostrils flaring, his dark gaze dug into mine. The bird’s wings scrunched tight. “Especially, the heartless witch who killed my mother.”

  THIRTEEN

  A gloved hand clamped tight on my shoulder. “Sit.” Squeezing until I flinched, the warrior pushed me down in the chair with a grunt. “Stay.”

  Resisting the urge to bark, I played along and kept to my seat.

  This was my first time in the War Room of the Rellan King. Having yet to undergo major repairs like other sections of the castle, I had to envision the decorative shields, armaments, tapestries, and paintings that might have once hung from the empty, cracked, white stone walls. The weathered scribe’s desk in the back (cluttered with papers), had seen better days. The wall shelves were barren and crooked. But most disgraceful was the condition of the room’s centerpiece; a large rectangular table with a detailed map of Mirra’kelan painted across its expansive surface. Despite most of Rella having been scored out with a knife, and the rest of the map being covered in some not-so-nice Langorian sentiments, the craftsmanship was impressive.

  The gilded chairs around the table looked little better. Their cushions were stained and deep gouges had been dug into the arms to chip away the gold. An axe had met the blue marble flooring more than once, leaving it scratched and scored. Most of the sculpted mantle was missing from the hearth, but it was still functioning. Filled with a roaring fire that was pumping far more heat into the room than was needed.

  I stretched open the collar of my shirt to let in some air. I tried to be discreet about my discomfort as the warriors, layered in armor, weren’t even breaking a sweat. The entire island of Arulla was rumored to be a steamy jungle, so I assumed they were used to hot.

  The one who had compared me to a donkey sat at the head of the table. Not surprisingly, I’d been put all the way at the other end. Jarryd was in between. Opposite him were the recently summoned Queen Elayna and Jillyan. Several warriors, four men and one woman (probably those of higher rank), had been allowed to sit. The men’s expressions were blank. Their posture was rigid. The woman’s was considerably less so.

  Five years over twenty at best, she was more brazen in her commander’s presence or, perhaps more confident in her place, as she rested her bow on the table and removed her helmet; releasing a nest of short, tight black spirals. Her oval face was stoic. Her body was short and strong and inked on both hands. The flowing design reminded me of rushing waves. Like my scars, the pattern disappeared beneath her sleeves and reappeared on the sides of her neck; ringing it before dropping down the hollow of her throat like a giant teardrop.

  Several of the men were inked as well, including my looming bodyguard. His hands and face were covered with a series of interconnecting spirals.

  “Stand,” he grunted.

  I complied and the man proceeded to strip off my braces. Jarryd’s outrage was more than mine as the Arullan performed an extensive search for more stones. When he pulled the obsidian out from inside my shirt, I grabbed his arm. “Not a good idea.”

  Unconcerned, he grunted. “Unhand me, witch.”

  “Then let go of the stone. I’ll take it off myself.”

  His laugh was like distant thunder. “You think to trick me?”

  “I think to save you.” I lifted my white eyes and gave him the truth. “It’s not like the others.” Understanding the depth of my warning, if not the reason behind it, the warrior backed off. I slipped the cord over my head and handed him the shard. “I’ll be wanting that back when this is done.”

  Grinning like that wasn’t going to happen he carried the braces and the shard to the other side of the room and dropped them on the desk. Apparently, he’d been more worried about the stones than my weapons. He didn’t even take them.

  Across from me, their leader folded his hands on the table. He inclined his bird-head toward Elayna. “Your Grace,” was all he managed before she pounced.

  “Senior Orator Elek,” Elayna said with an edge, “this detainment is unlawful and unnecessary. My husband is—”

  “Indisposed,” Elek cut in. “As his ally, and a leader with great experience, it is my duty to handle the situation in his absence. And as far as unlawful goes…did not your own city magistrate issue a reward for this man? Filling the taverns and shops with this likeness?” Elek unfurled one of my wanted posters. Elayna said
nothing, and he donned a slow grin. “There were others.” Elek’s eyes slid to Jarryd and paused. They moved onto Jillyan and paused longer. “But those were most likely…misunderstandings.”

  Elek rolled up my picture and tossed it across the table. As it came to a stop in front of Elayna, she nodded. “Your concerns are valid. But the decision of Troy’s guilt, or innocence, is not yours to make. And, as Rella’s Queen, the duty to serve in King Malaq’s stead is mine.”

  Elek’s responding smile was all reflex and no warmth. “Then perhaps he has made an ill choice for his Queen. Freeing your husband’s stock of Shinree, allowing a fugitive into his home…these are not the acts of a rational woman. Though I doubt he will punish you too severely. Your confusion is clearly a result of trauma inflicted by Langorian hands. With all the lurid things those heathens did to you, it’s a wonder you can function at all.”

  An echo of adrenaline swept through me as Jarryd gripped the arms of his chair. I gave him what patience I had to spare. It wasn’t much. But this was Elayna’s battle. And based on the shocked indignation threatening her features, she was nowhere near backing down.

  I watched her push the outrage aside with a determined clearing of her throat. “King Malaq will not punish me at all. My husband is not given to senseless violence. And there should never be a reprimand for granting shelter to those in need, particularly ones who have shown great service to this realm.”

  Elek pounced on her words. “Would this great service include the wanton murder of my mother?”

  Reaching his limit, Jarryd pushed to his feet. “This is ridiculous. Aylagar was wounded in battle before Ian cast that spell. For all we know, she was dead before his magic even touched her. And, today, he saved your pretentious ass by stopping those eldring. So, Arullan, you might think about backing off before he drops you just as fast.”

  “Jarryd,” I warned.

  “No,” he laughed, glancing at me, “this fool thinks he can contain you.”

  “It’s a conversation,” I said. “Sit down and let us finish it before it becomes more.”

  Jarryd’s anger rushed at me like a gust of wind. I threw it back at him. He scowled in response, but he took his seat. It wasn’t like I was enjoying Elek’s company, either. I was tolerating him because Elayna was doing her best not to damage Malaq’s fledgling treaty. Seeing as my presence had damaged Malaq plenty today, I had to let her try.

  To convey my cooperation, I gave Elayna a nod.

  Her grateful eyes hardened as her attention shifted to Elek. “I understand your sorrow at Aylagar’s death. She was my mother as well. But I grieved for her in a Langorian prison cell. I received no comfort at her passing, only insults and abuse. If I cried, I was denied food, or beaten…or worse. My suffering was on a far different level than yours, Elek. Yet, the past is done. We are the last of Aylagar’s blood. I want no misperceptions to come between us. If you’re more comfortable dealing with my husband, then remove the guards you’ve stationed outside his bedchamber door and give my Shinree healer access to her patient.”

  “That will not be necessary,” he replied. “My cleric is with him now.”

  Elayna stiffened at Elek’s interference. “With all due respect, this is my decision. And Malaq needs far more than a cleric.”

  “I disagree,” Elek countered. “My people have flourished for centuries without the perversion of Shinree magic in our bodies. King Malaq will live. And to be clear, Your Grace, the scant trace of Arullan blood in your veins does not make us kin. My mother did as expected. She traded her homeland for this one. She left the love of my father, a strong warrior in his prime, for the politics of a stern man who lacked the spine to leave his throne and lead his realm into war. Or protect his own house,” Elek jeered. “Raynan Arcana allowed his daughter to be kidnapped and incarcerated in Darkhorne prison, just as he did his sister by Taiven’s thugs many years before. King Raynan was a coward.”

  Elayna’s jaw dropped at his gall. “The world believed I was dead, Elek. He had no reason to come looking for me.”

  “A good father would know if his daughter were alive or dead. He would feel it.”

  I cringed inwardly at Elek’s words. Was my certainty that Lirih was alive truly instinct or nothing more than a father’s desperate denial?

  “The relationship Aylagar formed with your father,” Elek said, continuing his lecture of Elayna, “solidified the one between our countries. In hindsight, it was necessary. Continued amity amongst our realms now and in the future aids us both. Affection between you and I serves no purpose.”

  Elayna dipped her head in acknowledgement, though Elek’s speech had only stoked the fire in her. With the amount of time we’d spent training together the past few weeks, I knew Elayna was itching to abandon the diplomacy her position demanded and scrape the fake smile off Elek’s face with her knife. The internal fierceness she possessed was something her younger sister Neela never had.

  “This is quite simple.” Unfolding his hands, Elek placed his palms on the table and leaned forward. As he measured his words, the wings on his forehead flexed. “Ian Troy is wanted by the rightful Arullan Government for the brutal and conscious murder of Aylagar, eldest daughter of Chay, our late and wise Imminence, as well as the subsequent murders of an unnamed number of her loyal warriors. In accordance with our law, we demand the bodies of all deceased be disinterred and prepared for transport to our homeland. The offender will be allowed to remain in custody here until the threat in the west has been dealt with and Langor is in your husband’s control. At which time, the witch will be taken to Arulla. His head will be separated from his body and justice will finally be done.”

  It was time to speak up. “Those ‘deceased’ you’re after might not go as quietly as you think, Elek. They’re currently serving as foot soldiers in my father’s budding empire. And the last time I fought them, in the desert—when I killed them a second time—it was far less effective. So, for now, Jem Reth owns your warriors. They will do as he commands until there are no pieces of their bodies left to fight with. If you want them back, relatively whole, you’re going to have to break his hold. And for that, you need me. With my head still attached.”

  Elek’s face pinched tight. “Your attempt to manipulate through fear cannot work on me, Shinree. I have met Jem Reth, and found him to be no more of a threat than any other man chasing victory.”

  “You met my father? When?”

  “On my ship. Not a fortnight ago.”

  “Here? Jem came here, to Kabri?” Elek nodded and I glanced at Elayna. The shock on her face mirrored mine. “What did he want?”

  Elek shrugged, as if social calls from his enemies were a regular occurrence. “To ply me with gifts and promises, as men on political reconnaissance would do.”

  “Jem doesn’t give gifts.”

  “Not only did he give them, he was wise enough to discern my interest in the arts before our meeting. He presented me with portraits, baubles, trinkets, and the like. And, I must admit, the craftsmanship of your ancestors surprised me. Your people were far more enlightened in the way of aesthetics than I realized. And it seems some even have a modicum of intelligence. Were you aware Reth has plans for a school, a place for all races to indulge their artistic pursuits?”

  About to call Elek out for the fool he clearly was, I leaned forward in my chair. My bodyguard shoved me back. I threw him a frown, but I didn’t push it. I stared down the table at Elek, looking for the truth behind whatever bullshit Jem handed out with his ‘gifts’. “My father isn’t in the habit of dropping by to chat. So I ask again: what did he want?”

  “Reth offered me full control of Arulla. He promised that my brethren, those under his control as well as those who fight for Draken, will never trouble my homeland again. Arulla’s government will be whole once more, with me at its head.”

  “And what’s on the flipside of this shiny, new coin
?”

  “While Reth’s forces wrest control of Langor from Draken, he would have me claim the plains of Rella and the mountains of Kael in his name.”

  “Why would Jem ask for your help?”

  “I have means.”

  My jaw tightened at his caginess. “Did you take his offer?”

  “For a Shinree, I found your father to be a most scintillating and passionate man.”

  “I didn’t ask if you fucked him, Elek. I asked if you joined sides with him.”

  I didn’t see the oncoming fist until it struck my jaw. Blood sprayed like rain across the etched mountains on the tabletop as my head snapped to the side. My bodyguard went to land another punch. I spun back around and caught it. Squeezing his dark hand in mine, we locked eyes. I applied pressure. His breath picked up. Pain constricted his features. His pulse thumped in the hollow of his throat. The rhythm made my teeth ache. So easily I could rip it out.

  It would only take a moment.

  A strained, wrathful growl vibrated the guard’s lips. “You have been given no leave to speak, witch. Another word and I will gladly muzzle you like the beast you are.”

  I grinned at his choice of insult. “That’s going to be a little hard…” I paused to spit blood on his boot. “Considering I’m about to break every bone in your hand.”

  “Senior Orator,” Elayna intervened, “your treatment of Troy is unacceptable.”

  “What is unacceptable, Your Grace,” Elek countered, “is how you show more concern for your slave than your realm. I have three ships arriving within a day—three in addition to the two already in your harbor. Just this morning the King and I discussed how they may be of use in his fight against the enemy. Surely, you do not wish me to turn them around?”

 

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