Rose let out what Bethany assumed was meant as a battle cry, though the poor girl’s voice cracked partway through. She charged Joseph, swinging her sword. He effortlessly dodged her blows and jutted his hands out in front of him. Rose screamed as she was thrown through the opened door, which slammed shut behind her.
Bethany struggled to her feet, taking shallow breaths in a vain attempt to reduce the agony inside her. Though grateful, she didn’t understand why he used air to blast her. Why not just catch her on fire?
Joseph smiled and sat back down on her bed. “I thought we could have a bit of a chat.”
The floor vibrated from the knights pounding on her door. Even if he had sealed the door with Magic, they’d eventually break it down with their Blessed Blades. She started at her own blade in his hand and planned her attack.
He put the blade behind his back. “Stop staring at this. It isn’t like you need it to kill me.”
She ignored the comment as she pulled herself upright. Holding her mid-section, she stepped forward. “Get off my bed.”
He obeyed, his smiling never leaving his lips. “Lady Bethany, daughter of Apexia, sister of too many bastard children to remember. I have a message from Sarissa,” he said, staring into her eyes. “She plans to drop by soon, to say hello.”
Bethany lunged at him, sword in hand. He grabbed her blade mid-air, his bare fist wrapped around the glimmering steel of her sword. Blood dripped from his hands, down the sword’s blade. While trying to pull it from his grip, Magic and Power pulsed through the sword. Bethany shrieked as his darkness stirred her Power, while Joseph screamed and convulsed.
“Bethany!” Erem shouted from the other side of the door, the pounding increasing.
Bethany released her grip on the hilt to push Joseph away from her. The sword clanged when it hit the ground and she swiftly grabbed one of her Blessed Blades from her bed.
Joseph staggered. Uncertain if he was pretending or actually injured, she stood her ground, waiting for his next move.
His breath labored as he spoke. “The door has a small spell on it. I suppose I should have warned you that I had sucked the living energy from all of those poor souls out there.” He chuckled as he spoke, his strength returning. “When I’m done with you, I’ll drain Arrago, Jovan, and anyone else I can get my hands on.”
Anger like she had never felt before overtook her and the barriers around her mind dropped without warning. Loosening her grip on the sword, she reached up and grabbed him by the throat. She squeezed until he wheezed for air.
High on Magic, he seemed immune to the oxygen deprivation. Instead of passing out, he punched her in the gut, fists connecting with her stomach over and over. Heat rose on her face and warm liquid trickled down her neck. She ignored it.
“Come on! Use your magical spells on me,” she taunted, though her voice was hoarse and pained. Her head pounded and stars flickered in her vision. He batted away her arm and she gasped for air, broken ribs stabbing her and her vision grew dark.
Another shove and she fell to the floor, a whimper of pain escaping her lips. Joseph pressed his boot against her throat, pushing hard enough that she couldn’t breathe but not enough to crush her throat. She gasped and choked, limbs flailing in vain searching of her sword.
“You don’t know, do you? How sad. You can’t kill the Divine with Magic. Not even a half-goddess. However, I can break your neck and kill you the more traditional way.”
He pushed harder on her throat. Consciousness faded. She needed an escape. Now.
So, she let go.
Pulsing energy, hot and angry, surged through her veins. Her fingertips went numb. Her thoughts blurred. Power consumed her until all she could feel was hot, boiling rage.
She jutted out her hands. Swords and daggers flew from their various resting places at him. He knocked three away but the forth, a small dagger on her dressing table, sunk into his shoulder. Joseph stumbled and Bethany rolled on all fours, coughing and spitting, not strong enough to stand.
“You seem angry.” He looked down and grabbed the dagger. It pulled out with a wet, slurping sound. He tossed it to the floor, blood flicking on her face. “Now why would I steal all of this delicious energy –” he pointed at the girl’s corpse – “if it wasn’t to cast protection spells? I can’t feel pain, Lady Bethany.”
Gathering her energy, she flung both arms in his direction. The swords and daggers rose again, slashing at him. Blood sprayed the air. She wondered if it was her own.
The stench of opened guts hit her and her stomach contents rolled once more. Blood rushed from Joseph’s lower torso. Still, he grabbed her tunic and dragged her upright. She slammed her head into his face. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth. Stars blurred her vision. The worst headache of her life formed as her skull tried to crush her brain.
He pushed her away and Bethany fell on her bed, bouncing once, before falling on several weapons. Her cheek suddenly itched, but she kept her fading focus on Joseph.
“I see your body is rejecting your mother’s blood. Poor Bethany. Immortal Power inside mortal flesh. Sarissa is more powerful than you. You may have stolen her birthright in the womb, but she controls Magic. It does not control her any longer.”
Blood ran freely from her nose, dripping off her upper lip and chin. Her legs wobbled when she tried to stand and she collapsed to her knees. Breathing heavily, Bethany wiped away the blood and vomit with the back of her hand. She reached for a dagger on the floor, but fell on her side, the room spinning.
Joseph staggered and dropped to his knees. “I will lose this fight but Sarissa will win her war. Let Apexia bear witness that only one of your own could kill me!”
Clinging to what was left of her splintered bedpost, Bethany pulled herself up and, still holding on to the post, slammed the heel of her boot into Joseph’s throat. Before he could stand, she stomped down on his throat apple until bone and tendons crunched.
Faintness overwhelmed her. Her fingers slackened and Bethany slid to the floor in a heap of limbs on top of Joseph’s still body. White pain rushed through her and the world went black. She rolled on her back. The ceiling spun and she vomited, choking some of it back down. The rest of the bile and chunks of fruit ran out the sides of her mouth, dripping down her cheeks. It ran into her ears and down her neck. The itchy cheek stung.
Reality blurred.
Breathing was so hard.
She was going to wear her hair down for Arrago. She was going to eat pastries. They were going to laugh.
The world faded to blackness.
***
Arrago drummed his thumb against his desk. Two bloody hours and no word of Bethany. The entire South Tower was still blocked off, no one really knew what was going on – or, at least, no one was telling him. All non-residents had been locked into the prayer rooms, not allowed to leave, and residents were sent back to their rooms like naughty children and locked in. The knights let him stay in the study. Waiting.
He slammed his hand against the desk and pushed himself up so hard that his chair fell over. He kicked it out of his way and huffed. For the last quarter of an hour, everyone passing by said that they had heard Bethany had been killed. They saw her body being carried in blood-soaked linens to one of the sanctuaries. Of course, the sanctuaries had a hundred armed soldiers around them, so going in to see was out of the question.
He tried to put it from his mind. He tried, he tried, he tried. He failed. No living man could resist falling into despair at hearing that the woman he loved –
Arrago stopped his pacing and stared at the pale yellow walls, panic-stricken. Having that forbidden word cross his mind paralyzed him. He did not mean it, of course. Bethany was a friend, an employer, someone who liked to threaten him when she was angry. She was off-limits.
She was also the bright point of his day, sometimes sharing in his jokes and often smiling at him. Lately, she had spent more time around him and he lapped it up like a dog at a watering hole. He had caught her staring at h
im from the corner of his eye. She’d begun to wear her hair looser. She laughed more.
He was in love.
This revelation only served to make Arrago angry. He could not think of a more idiotic thing to do than fall in love with the most unattainable woman in creation.
“There you are, son. I’ve been looking all over for you!”
Before him stood His Eminence, High Priest Torius, red-faced and out of breath. Arrago bowed from the waist. “Eminence, welcome.”
“Yes, yes. I need to sit down. I’m not as young as I once was.” Torius walked slowly to a wicker chair near Bethany’s office. He dragged his body so slowly that Arrago wondered if he should help the old elf across the room. The priest gathered up his dark orange and burgundy robes before collapsing into a chair.
“May I get you something to drink, Eminence? A glass of wine?” The priest had come into the office several times before to see Bethany but Arrago avoided him. Something about having the spokesman of Apexia herself next to him made him nervous. “Perhaps I can find you something to eat?”
Torius shook his head. “Do you have any brandy? Or whiskey”
Arrago hid his surprise. The emissary of Apexia wanting spirits! “Bethany keeps a bottle of brandy in her top desk drawer…”
“Then do not bother. It’s hers.” He took several deep, wheezing breaths. “I forget some days that I’m not two hundred anymore. I can’t run around like a young man.”
Arrago couldn’t find the right words to carry on the conversation so he simply smiled.
Torius shifted a few times before throwing his hands in the air. “Well? Have you heard the latest news? They say an army of Magi killed Bethany. An army! Here, in my temple!”
So much for the priest being a distraction. “Yes, I heard that as well, but nothing official has come yet.”
“I wish I could be as calm as you, boy. Cool as a head of lettuce, you are.” The priest snorted. “No one will tell me anything. I am the High Priest of the Order of Apexia. I am in charge of this place and those empty-headed soldiers said I am not authorized to know what is happening in my own bloody building. Me!”
“Eminence, I’m sure you will be the first to know when the situation is…” Arrago searched for a Bethany-word, “contained.”
High Priest Torius blew out a long breath, visibly paling. He lowered his voice and seemed to age, growing more frail and sad. “I cannot find Allric or Jovan. Kiner is missing, too. All holed up in the tower. She could be dead and no one will tell me.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “On second thought, break out that bottle of brandy. If she is dead, I will have nothing else to live for.”
Arrago paused and stared. “Eminence?”
“I apologize, Arrago.” A flush of embarrassment washed over the elder’s face. He took a deep breath. “Did you know that I helped birth Bethany? Her mother went into labor and I caught her as she came into the world. Her hair was as red as flame. She wiggled and kicked me when I tried to wrap the cloth around her. Right from the womb, she was a stubborn ox. Just like her mother.”
Bethany.
Arrago rallied his spirits and said, “Then she will be all right. You’ll see.”
He pushed aside the image of Bethany rotting in a pile of dirty linens on an altar. He unlatched Bethany’s door to retrieve the dusty bottle of brandy from the shelf. “Best brandy,” she’d called it. “Well, if this isn’t a time for best brandy, I don’t know when is, Eminence.”
Arrago glanced at Bethany’s desk, papers and scrolls piles haphazardly. Organized chaos, she called it. He swallowed hard to push down the lump in his throat. He headed back and poured one for the priest. He hesitated and poured a glass for himself in hopes that it would help wash away his fears.
Torius gulped his back. “So they would not let you in either?”
Arrago cocked his head. “Sorry?”
“The guards. They would not let you go up to see Bethany?”
Heat rose in his face. “Um…I hadn’t tried.”
Torius threw his hands in the air. “You have been sitting here all this time and have not done anything? Young man, if anyone can get up there and find out what is going on, it is you.”
“You kindly overestimate my skills of persuasion,” Arrago said, sipping his drink. Bethany was right; it was “best brandy.”
“Young man, you are the only person Bethany has ever listened to. Not to mention how much she talks about you. The knights will let you in.” Torius smoothed out the wrinkles in his robes. “I am only in charge of the entire faith. Why would they care about what I want?”
Arrago pondered Torius’s words while refilling the priest’s outstretched glass. He thought about what Bethany would expect him to do. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
“I want you to find out what the blazes is going on.”
***
The room spun and so did Bethany’s stomach. Over and over, stomach bile forced its way up, burning her throat and choking her. White hot pain punished her for daring to roll off Joseph’s corpse and it required three attempts before she managed it. The last time she’d used her Power, on purpose, was when she was a child. It had not been like this. It had not been while she was being pounded upon and fighting Magic.
Most of her ribs were broken, she knew. Every breath informed her of that fact. Her face was itchy. It wouldn’t stop, in fact. She tried scratching at it, but only came back with fingers of blood. Joseph’s blood. It wasn’t hers. At least, she didn’t think it was.
Her face was so itchy.
A final thud and her door flung open, wooden splinters spraying the air. She saw at least ten knights using a marble status of Apexia to break down her oak door. How appropriate.
Jovan’s eyes immediately fell on her and he did a skidding collapse to the floor next to her. She gave him a weak smile. She wheezed, “I’m fine.”
“Sweet mercy of Apexia,” he whispered. Then, looking over his shoulder, he pointed and ordered, “Get a healer!”
“I’m fine, really, I’m fine,” Bethany repeated, swallowing hard. Copper hit the back of her throat and she gagged on her own blood. A whimper escaped her and stars twinkled around her room.
Jovan pulled her into his arms, clutching her. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. How would I ever tell Mother you died on my watch?”
Bethany smiled and patted his face with a weak hand. Jovan was about as close to a brother as she’d ever have. “You’re hurting me.”
He laughed and laid her back down on the cold floor, very gently. Allric leaned over her, worry and relief etched in his features. He touched her face. “We’ll get your cheek fixed up. There’ll barely even be a scar.”
“Scar?” She fought against the exhaustion.
Allric nodded, then looked at Jovan. “She’s lost a lot of blood. Keep her awake.”
“I don’t remember being hurt enough for a scar,” Bethany whispered. “Can someone help me sit up?”
Allric and Jovan eased her into a semi-sitting position, propped up by a number of cushions and pillows taken from her bed and chaise. She examined the room. Joseph’s body laid limp off to the side of her, a puddle of blood surrounding him, seeping into the cracks of her floor. Bethany wondered if she’d ever be able to sleep in the room again.
Yes, of course she could, if only to spite every single Magi out there.
Movement happened all around her and Bethany struggled to follow it. Kiner yanked the blood-soaked bedding from her bed. He draped the linens over the two bodies in the room. Crouching beside the motionless body of the unknown girl, he whispered an old elvish prayer for Apexia to claim the soul of the little girl. Kiner touched the bloodied face of the girl.
Through heavy lids, Bethany saw the form of a ten-year-old human boy appear next to the dead girl. Austen. The mute and deaf brother of Apexia. No one else could see him, but Bethany could. She always saw the dead collect their own.
The essence of the gi
rl, a blue shimmering light, took the form of the little laundry girl Bethany recognized. The girl took Austen’s hand, but not before waving a sad, lonely wave at Bethany. She’d killed another child. She’d sworn no more would die because of her and here laid another one dead in her name.
“Bastards,” Bethany spat, fighting the tears that stung her eyes. She clenched her fists before vowing, “I’m going to kill them all.”
Power flooded through her body and Bethany vomited up more bile. Bloody drool dripped from her mouth, but she lacked the strength to wipe it away. Why was she so helpless?
Then, a warm hand touched her face and the fog cleared. Wave after comforting wave washed over her. Bethany floated in the sensation, as Power coursed through her. Hot, delicious Power.
“Lady Bethany? Can you hear me?” a raspy voice asked.
She nodded, slowly, cautiously. “Pearl?”
“Yes.” A wrinkled face came into partial focus. “Lady Bethany, I cannot heal your face, but you will live.
“Why can’t you heal her face?” Allric demanded.
Pearl smiled at Bethany before looking up. “A form of poison was used to cut her.” She averted her eyes. “I wager that ring on his hand is poisoned and cut her. Or, perhaps one of those swords on the floor is his and was poisoned. I’ve healed her ribs. They will ache still, but only for a few days. Her face I cannot mend. The best I can do is sew it with linen and help it heal on its own.”
“Is that safe?” Allric asked.
Pearl looked back at Bethany. “Safer than leaving it open. It will make the scar less ugly, too.”
“Do it,” Bethany whispered.
Pearl ran her hand through Bethany’s hair. “I’ll get my things and I’ll do my best. I promise that.”
“All right, people, let’s get this room cleaned up,” Allric commanded.
“Wait,” Bethany said, “does anyone know her name?” She pointed a shaky finger at the girl’s body.
The eight knights in the room exchanged glances before collectively shaking their heads.
Blaze (Tranquility) Page 17