I watched him flounder. “What the hell, Krillos?”
“What the hell what? Pick your goddamn mouth up off the floor, Shinree, and help me. I’ve only got—”
“One hand. Yeah, I know.” I slammed my sword away. Bending, I took his good arm and lifted Krillos to his feet. Teeth clenched in pain, his legs swayed as I helped him climb off the mound of corpses.
“Of all the undignified… I swear, if you tell anyone about finding me in this damn orgy of death…”
I snorted. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Stow the chuckles, will ya? A man doesn’t like to be laughed at when he’s naked.”
“Naked is better than dead,” I pointed out, guiding him through the tight maze of bodies.
“Yeah, that was some display of grief, my friend. The kicks were a real nice touch.”
“You can’t hold that against me. You played dead a little too well.”
“I didn’t have much choice,” he said, parched voice wobbling as he shivered in my grip.
Glancing back at the alcove, I remembered a stack of clothes. “Hold on.” I leaned Krillos against the wall. As he inched down to sit, I jogged away. Crouching to rummage through the heap, I glanced back at him with hope. “Jillyan?”
He shook his head. “We got separated. She ran. I didn’t run fast enough.”
“Think she got away?”
“No idea. But she isn’t in here. And that can’t be a bad thing.”
I wasn’t sure.
Picking out a pair of trousers and a sleeveless tunic, I shook the garments out and brought them over. Krillos winced as I dropped the clothes in his lap.
“They’re ripped,” he grumbled. “They stink. And they’re too small.”
“You stink. And they’ll have to do, unless you want to walk out of here swinging in the wind.”
“When you put it that way…”
Kneeling beside him, I tugged my pack over. Pulling out a skin, I popped it open and handed it to him. I watched him guzzle the water too fast for half to make it in. “You don’t have any serious wounds.” Swirling the liquid around in his mouth, he spit red, and I added, “At least, none that show. So I’m guessing it was magic.”
“A lot of Shinree here are just off the drug. They need spell training. And practice.” He tilted his head at the bodies. “We’re practice.”
I stifled my instinct to defend those who cast on him. At the moment, their ignorance (spell-induced or not) was little comfort. “Any idea what kind of magic they used?”
“The kind that hurt.” Krillos grinned. Blood trickled out the corner of his mouth. “Do what you have to. Get me moving. But none of that binding stuff. No taking a peek at my soul. You’ve seen enough of me for one day.”
“Can’t argue that. Just one more question. Is anyone else alive in there?”
His ashen, scarred face lost all expression. The darkness of memory settled over his eyes. “I wasn’t awake much. But I heard them…moaning and breathing. I think some of them have been here for months. The guards come, take them up to get spelled on and then dump them back. Their bodies may be functioning, but…that’s not life.”
“How many times did the guards come for you?”
Krillos shrugged. “Once or twice.”
Bullshit.
He gave me back the empty skin. “You can’t help them, can you?”
“All of them? Krillos, I’ve seen less injured in better shape after a full scale battle. It would take a team of healers days to—”
“That’s what I thought.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe, if we had more time…”
“We don’t. And you need life to heal me. So take it. Take whatever they have left and put them out of this godforsaken hellhole of misery. I can promise you, Troy, they’ll be damn grateful to give whatever they have left to see your father dead.”
FIFTY ONE
Dawn was pushing up above the wall as we hit the streets. Women were sweeping their stoops. Men and children with drowsy eyes were driving carts laden with bricks, stone, and other materials. Animal sounds and faint voices streamed in from afar. Many windows and doors were still closed. None were locked. With the majority of your citizens spelled to cooperate, personal security was unnecessary. It was also a careless gesture that made pilfering better clothes for Krillos relatively easy.
He collected attire as we walked, borrowing a heavy leather vest hanging in a tailor’s window, brown trousers from a pile of laundry, and a decent pair of Langorian style military boots that had been left out for the mud to dry. Dunking his head in a horse trough put life into his curls, and a cooling loaf of bread on a windowsill filled his belly. Within fifteen minutes Krillos looked far less like a walking corpse; five more and he was laughing, amused by the brass studded mace leaning unattended against a doorframe like it was waiting for him.
Krillos bent, scooped up the weapon, and kept going. “I’m starting to like this city.”
“I’ll be sure to pass the compliment along to my father.”
He chuckled a moment more, then sobered. “You’ve gained some new tricks.”
“A few,” I said, and Krillos stepped in front of me, bringing us both to a halt. I didn’t have to ask why. Face to face as we were, I knew exactly what was on his mind. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“So you said.”
“I haven’t done a lot of healing. The spell I worked on you was new to me. It was stronger than I realized.”
He lifted a dark brow. “You think I’m complaining? You fixed me.”
“I know what I did. In repairing the damage done to your insides, I repaired the damage to your outside, too. I guess I went a little overboard.”
“Overboard?” Glancing around the alley, he lowered his voice. “You made my skin like new, Troy. You erased marks I’ve carried half my life.”
I took in his grateful, earnest, yet shocked expression. At the same time I hid my own, as I thought, it’s not just me anymore. I’d been on and off, unconsciously, healing myself for a while. Now, I’d removed layers of old scar tissue that had riddled a man’s body for years—without even trying. The notion hadn’t even been in my mind. Such a degree of healing, without a sharing of souls, should have required multiple sessions. Clearly, Fate’s knowledge was becoming mine.
As jarring as our spontaneous integration was, it was a good thing. I needed a full arsenal to face Jem. And I couldn’t deny it was amazing. Krillos came across younger and less fierce without the array of blemishes. His new face was going to take some getting used to.
Imagining their reactions back in Kabri, I smiled. “You look good, my friend.”
“Do I? It’s been a long time since I’ve had cause to know…or to care.”
My gaze drifted to the stump at the end of his arm. The fact that my comprehensive healing hadn’t brought his hand back didn’t leave me much hope for Malaq’s eye. “You should have asked Sienn,” I said, pushing the dismal thought aside. “It might have taken a while, but she could have repaired your skin a long time ago.”
“I guess I never thought about it. The scars were on me for so long, at some point, they became a part of me.”
“I know the feeling.”
Krillos moved aside and we resumed our trek to the palace. His survey of the city was more in-depth than mine so I let him steer. We kept to the alleyways and side streets whenever possible, but even those were busy as more people woke and left their homes. No one paid us any mind, yet it still made me nervous. The number of non-Shinree, vulnerable to being drained by magic, was uncomfortably high. And there were children.
I glanced at Krillos. “I’m going onto the palace. You need to empty out this city.”
“No thanks, Shinree. Getting these people to leave is like trying to move the sun.”
“I thought they weren’t all
spelled.”
“Spelled, bullied—brainwashed. The outcome’s the same.” Krillos flicked his gaze at a Rellan woman walking toward us. Young, with a wisp of brown hair kissing her oval face, she held a wooden crate in her arms. “Watch this.”
The woman drew closer. Her blue eyes glanced around the awakening city with a blissful, private smile. As she passed by, Krillos handed me his mace. He turned around and walked her direction. Matching her stride, he grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her to a fast stop. The crate nearly slipped from her grasp.
I was about to protest his rough treatment when Krillos said to her, “Run. The city is on fire. Get everyone out before it all burns.”
She smiled, dimples popping. “Run? This is our home.”
Stern, he asked, “Do you want die?”
“There is no better place to die than at home.”
I stepped closer. “You’re not afraid?”
Her happy gaze met mine. She reached into the crate and pulled out an apple. “Would you care for breakfast? The orchard has a particularly strong yield this morning.”
“Orchard? This is a desert.”
“This is the empire.” She offered me the apple again.
I shook my head and the woman trotted off.
“You get it now? They won’t budge,” Krillos said as we started moving again. “And I brought Jillyan here. I’m not leaving without her. Neither am I letting you saunter into some godawful ambush by yourself. So you can forget trying to get rid of me.” Krillos took his mace back. “And you seem to be one short anyway.”
Knowing what he meant I kept my answer simple. “Jarryd’s not here.”
“I see that. What did you two girls argue over this time?”
My frown was not kind. I quickly switched topics. “Draken is dead.”
Krillos lurched to a fast halt. “You sure? I mean, really sure? Because—”
“I’m sure.” I stopped and faced him. “It’s Malaq’s throne now.”
His whistle was pure joy. “About damn time,” he laughed. “You?”
“Jarryd.”
“Damn. For a Rellan runt, he’s got some set of balls.”
I’d expected a showdown at the palace. It was my father’s showpiece. It was where he kept the Crown of Stones, in a grand room full of Shinree artifacts. According to Krillos, before the guards took him away, he caught a glimpse of the circlet sitting atop a golden pedestal. Such a place was perfect for my father to lie in wait. He could flaunt his treasures and shove his preeminence in my face before swinging the trap shut. It was the kind of personal taunting he enjoyed. Jem’s choice to instead hold our head-to-head at a stadium full of spectators surprised me. The stands were filled with the citizens of Ru Jaar’leth, and more were filing in around us to take their seats.
Jem had his flamboyant ways. But an audience; this was more Draken’s style.
I wondered if the spectacle was some twisted tribute to his recently deceased ‘other’. Or because of it? Jarryd’s mental decline at our separation took months. But this was different. Half of Jem’s soul died with Draken, and the other half was being warped by the eldring spell. Whatever impact those two events had on my father, it couldn’t be good.
Standing in front of the open doors, we watched the crowd. We could see them cheering. Yet not a sound came out of the place.
Beside me, Krillos frowned. “Well, this isn’t suspicious at all.”
“It’s a quelling spell. Jem wants everyone quiet until the show starts.”
The spell broke. Sound rushed over us.
Krillos sighed. “And he knows you’re here.”
“He’s always known.” I eyed the dais at the far end of the long rectangle of sand. The damage I’d done to the floor on my last visit looked to be repaired. The cage was gone. His throne sat empty. My father had chosen instead to occupy a plain wooden chair at the platform’s edge. Even at a distance, the strange outline of his mutated form was easily recognized, as was the crown resting on his head; empty and dim.
A sudden tingle started in my scars. Light pulsed and bled out from the edges of the designs on my skin, framing them like a halo as the magic pushed to get out, yearning to unify with the crown.
Accepting the library wasn’t enough to stop the pull. Fate’s luring spell to bring us all together was as strong as ever. The crown and Fate are too closely linked to ever be separated. As are Fate and I now.
Krillos inspected me with a keen eye. “That seems more intense. Does it hurt?”
“It makes me want to cast.”
His shrug was dismissive. “You always want to cast.”
Setting the sensation aside, my gaze moved to the tall Shinree woman sitting beside my father. The rising sun sparkled in her crystalline hair and set her golden dress afire.
Seeing what I did, Krillos squinted. “Is that Sienn?”
“Kabri had visitors after you left.” I answered his next question before he asked. “Elayna and the baby are fine.” I slid my pack to the sand. Pulling out the spare sheath and claws I’d found in Krillos’ room at the caves, I held them up. “Brought you a present.”
Abandoning his mace with a grin, Krillos snatched his gift out of my hand. He slid the leather onto his stump and buckled the straps tight around his forearm. “You knew damn well I wasn’t letting you face this mess alone.”
“Course I knew. I just wanted to hear what stubborn bullshit you came up with this time.”
His responding laugh was cut short as the noise in the stands rose to new heights. My father had stood, and the enthusiasm of his subjects was deafening. Dressed in black trousers and tunic, with a green ankle-length surcoat, Jem raised his arms to encourage their accolades. He dropped them swiftly. It was clearly a signal, as beneath where he stood, doors opened in the bottom wall of the dais. As they parted, two brawny Langorians emerged from the dark mouth. Two more sets of two followed. All large and heavily bearded, the six brandished flails and clubs as large and intimidating as the muscles on their shirtless frames. Short swords hung from scabbards at their waists. Wild black hair danced on their bare shoulders as they jogged out onto the sand.
Exiting behind the Langorian were four, contrastingly skinny Kaelishmen. Wrists linked together by chains, the Kaelish prisoners shuffled feebly to what was no doubt their death. Prodding swords at their backs encouraged them to move faster. The weapons were wielded by four female Arullan warriors. Black leather armor clung to their feminine bodies, shrouding them from head to toe. Boots were laced to their knees. Gloves hid their hands. Helms contained their hair and safeguarded their faces. Only eyes, mouth, and nostrils were visible. Their eccentric attire was strikingly elegant, though not a wise choice in the desert heat.
Krillos moved from eyeing the Arullan women to eyeing the stands. “I don’t see Jillyan. Maybe Jem’s got her at the palace. She’d make good leverage against Malaq.”
“She would.”
“Maybe she’s all right, then.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to imagine what Jillyan might have suffered. Not with the condition I found Krillos in.
His attention swung back to our enemies. “Ten against two, ‘eh? We can do that in our sleep.” Krillos shrugged and took a step.
I put an arm out to block him. “Wait.”
Another door was opening, halfway down the arena, below the stands, on our left. Twenty paces out from the door (and again at forty), metal stakes protruded from the sand. Thin and bruised, the Kaelish had little strength to protest as they were separated and shackled, two to a stake, at the sets farthest out. As their Arullan guards left and positioned themselves in front of the adjacent stands, a large shape filled the darkened threshold of the open door. It loomed a moment. Then a pink snout emerged. I whispered a curse as a broad, lathering jaw came next. Blade-like claws, one after the other, plopped down into view,
and legs thick as tree trunks emerged into the sun. With each heavy step, rolls of hairless flesh jiggled, rippling back along the sides of the animal’s pale, pink body.
The Arullan skin bear straightened to its full height and the Kaelishman whimpered. They were right to be afraid. Ridiculously wide and tall, this bear made the one we encountered in the frozen woods of Langor look like a baby.
Two more Langorians exited behind the bear. They carried links of heavy chain attached to the shackle encircling the bear’s neck. The men were armored, as if that might offer protection if the bear took offense to their weak efforts to slow it down.
Beside me, Krillos grinned. “Two against twelve—and a skin bear. Even better.”
“You do realize sane men don’t smile at those odds.”
“Like my old captain used to say. It’s better to die a fool then live a coward.”
“Gods,” I hissed. “Now I know where you get it.”
The armored Langorians flanked their spirited charge. They pulled the chains taut and secured the bear to the empty stakes. Flinging open its jagged maw, expelling a mass of drool, the bear’s bone-shaking roar blew over the prisoners—a hairsbreadth away from its deadly reach. The bear’s handlers dropped swords at the Kaelishmen’s feet. They moved off, and my father sat down to watch.
The entertainment was about to begin.
Krillos gestured angrily. “He can’t expect them to fight that thing.”
“He doesn’t. He expects me to defend them.”
“An invitation,” he nodded. “What’s the plan?”
“Cut the prisoners’ chains. Give them cover to get away.”
“And then?”
I eyed him, trying not to smile. “I was thinking you might want the bear.”
“Oh, my friend,” he laughed, “you know I do. But…” his eyes wandered to the Arullan women. Sun gleamed off the leather molded to their curves. “I am a bit torn on the matter now.”
“They want to kill you, Krillos, not bed you.”
“Aye, but what a way to die, Shinree…what a way to die.”
I slapped him on the back. “Bear first. Women later. Slow it down, but don’t kill the beast unless you have to. That bear has a hell of a lot of life. If it can feed my spells, maybe I can keep some of these people from dying.”
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Borne Page 43