“You don’t have to tell us what happened again,” Ariana interrupted. They had heard the tale once. When Lilia had retired on that evening, her two parents, two sisters, and three brothers had lived. She’d had a large, happy family surrounding her all her life, and now she was alone. “We need to know what we’re up against. If you wish to be a soldier then you must think as a soldier, not as a victim.”
Lilia lifted her head and looked squarely at Ariana. “Will you allow me to join you?”
“I have not decided.”
The girl nodded, and seemed to pull herself together. She licked her lips as she reached inside herself for answers and tried to remain calm. “From what I heard beyond my home, I would say there were at least fifty. Probably more. Their arms were varied. Some carried fine swords like your sentinels, but others... others seemed to be armed with whatever they had found close at hand. Kitchen knives, scraps of wood sharpened to a point, metal chains.” Her head tilted to one side as she searched her fractured mind, and a hank of dirty reddish hair fell past her marred cheek. “One of the men who came into my home brandished a fire iron he wielded as if it were a sword. It was brutal, the way they rushed into my home and... and...”
“So,” Sian said skeptically, joining in the conversation for the first time. “They rushed into your home, dragged your family from their beds, brutally killed them all, and yet you were spared.”
Lilia looked at Sian. She didn’t care for him, he could tell. Of course, at the moment she did not care for any man.
“The one who dragged me from my bed said he would want me. I don’t know how he knew, or why I was chosen, but there was no hesitation. I was for him, he said. So I was roughly bound and dragged down the stairs, and then those of my family who were not killed in their beds were dragged downstairs also, and I was forced to watch them die.” Her gaze became strong. “You are not fighting one enemy, but two. There are men among Ciro’s army who attack as soldiers often do. They kill quickly and with precision and then turn to the next prey. But there is another type of soldier among them. They call themselves ‘Ciro’s Own,’ and they do not kill quickly. They do not kill as a duty, but as a calling. They like what they do, and they never offer their victims death with any speed or mercy.”
Sian’s breath caught in his throat. Ciro’s Own? Beware Serrazone. As with. “Fyne” and “fine,” his grandfather had heard the prophesy and misspelled a portion of it. In his own mind, Sian had been mispronouncing the word, but now it made sense. Beware Ciro’s Own.
“The he you speak of in this tale is Ciro, I assume?” His voice betrayed none of the excitement that flowed through him. Another piece of the puzzle had fallen into place.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Why were you chosen?”
Her lower lip trembled, but her eyes remained strong. “Do you think I am one of them? Is that why you question me so?”
“I believe it is a possibility.”
The honest answer made her angry. “The house was already on fire when he came. My family was dead. My mother’s body was on fire, my father... my sisters...” She choked back the words she could not speak. “A man who looked almost normal to my eyes smiled at me as he stepped through flame and asked me if I would offer him my soul. I told him I would not. He threatened me, he promised to do horrible things to me if I did not give him what he wanted, but I continued to refuse. He said my soul was very white, but... I don’t know what that means. You can’t see a soul. It’s just... there, isn’t it?” She did not pause and wait for an answer. “He glanced around, at his soldiers and at what was left of my home, and bemoaned the fact that he had nothing with which to force me to offer my soul.
“Then he put his hands on me. He pinched and grabbed and... and poked at the most private parts of my body while his murderous soldiers watched and laughed, and that was when he gave me the message I was to deliver to the woman in white. Calmly, as if he were not hurting me as he said the words. He repeated the message slowly, again and again and again, so I would not forget a single word.” She shuddered. “He also told me that he would not waste a perfectly good soul, that he would come back for me when he no longer needed my permission, and take it!” She all but shouted the final words, and then she calmed visibly. “He said there was no place in the world I could hide from him when the time was right. He said he would be able to find me.”
“Lilia,” Ariana said softly, “did he rape you?”
Her fingers twitched. “No. I thought he would, I was terrified that he would, right up to the moment he turned away. I think I would’ve died if he had,” she whispered. “I don’t think he’s... human.”
In her righteous anger, Lilia had shared the most important bit of information yet. More important even than the words “Ciro’s Own,” which solved another mystery of the prophesy. Ciro was not yet able to take a pure soul without permission.
“Was it he who cut you?” Ariana asked, her voice, as always, kinder than Sian’s.
“Yes,” she whispered. “With his teeth. He scraped his teeth along my face, and licked the blood away with his tongue while he pinched me, so hard. I screamed, and then he... he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out of my burning house, and left me in the street. Everything was on fire, and most of the invaders had gone. Only a few remained, and they... they laughed at my screams.” A new anger sparked in her eyes and she shuddered.
If she was lying, she was very good at it.
Ariana was obviously touched. “Merin, I know the night is mild and we only have a few hours before we must move on, but would you have my tent erected for the night? I think Lilia needs some privacy, and so do I.”
As Merin made to do as he’d been told, and Lilia turned her lost gaze into the fire, Sian led Ariana away from the girl. “You’re not going to be alone with her all night.”
“She cannot hurt me,” Ariana said.
“You don’t know that. Do you see anything in her besides fear and anger? Do you see any hint of goodness?”
Ariana remained calm. “Right now all is lost in the anger, as you certainly know. In time, I will be able to see more.”
“Until you do, you should not be alone with her. Offer her the tent, if you must, but don’t share it with her.”
“What am I to do, sleep with you instead?” Ariana asked, her voice unusually tough and mocking.
“Yes,” he said. “My bedroll is roomy enough.”
“What would the men think?”
“I don’t care what anyone thinks.”
“I do.”
Of course she did. “Fine. You may pass the night in my bedroll, alone. I don’t need much sleep anyway. Never have. I will keep watch over you, and over the tent where Lilia sleeps.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?” Ariana asked.
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t mention it.”
Ariana nodded. All sarcasm was gone when she said, “All right. If you think it’s best.”
Sian sighed in relief. “I think it’s best that we deposit the girl at the first farmhouse or village we pass.”
“You don’t trust her, do you?”
“No.”
“What if she’s telling the truth?”
“What if she’s not?”
Ariana sighed tiredly. “Let me see to Lilia. I’ll get her settled for the night, and then I’ll join you.”
Sian stopped Ariana as she began to walk away from him. His hand fell on her shoulder, and she came to a quick and complete halt. He had not touched her often since joining her on the road, but when he did, he felt as if a jolt of lightning traveled through his blood. Did she feel it, too? Did she realize that what she tried so desperately to leave behind remained with them?
She was an empath, a very powerful one. Did she know that he sometimes thought he loved her, and that he would do anything in his power just to lie with her again? If so, she did not show it. Not to him, at least.
“The protective shield we worked on devel
oping in Arthes,” he said. “I think it’s time you used it.”
“The shield drains me,” she argued. “It takes total concentration to maintain, and it isn’t at all foolproof. I’ll be worse off if I think I’m protected and it fails.”
“True enough, but I’d like for you to try it again tonight,” he said. “Consider it practice. Did you read all of the prophesy?” He hated to mention that which had torn them apart, but he needed to know.
She showed no emotion as she answered, “I did not read past the part which promises my death. I couldn’t make myself read beyond that.”
Sian nodded. “There is much I have not yet interpreted, but Lilia provided one answer for me. My grandfather wrote ‘Beware Serrazone’ in the margins of the prophesy.” He spelled it for her, as it had been written. “I’ve searched everywhere for mention of Serrazone as a place or a person, but found nothing.”
Since she’d heard the words instead of reading them, she immediately knew what Sian had discovered. “Beware Ciro’s Own.”
“Yes. Thanks to Lilia we know they’re close, and we know what they’re capable of. Use the shield if you can.”
“I thought you didn’t trust her,” Ariana said, throwing the words at him with some bitterness.
“In this case, I cannot afford to dismiss all that she says. Even if she’s spinning a tale for us, there’s bound to be some truth mixed in with the lies. Cast the shield,” he said again.
It broke his hardened heart to see Ariana this way, embittered and accepting of the death that should not be hers. If there were a way to trade his life for hers, he would do so without question. He would do anything for her, and if he could not die in her place, he would die beside her, because there was no way he could stand back and allow it to happen without trying to place himself between her and the monsters she had been chosen to face.
Apparently he loved her, like it or not, convenient or not. Prophesy or no prophesy, he would not throw Ariana to Ciro or to Ciro’s Own as a sacrifice to the greater good.
She nodded and walked away from him. As the time of her promised death grew near, did she have any regrets? Did she, perhaps, sometimes think herself in love with him?
As if in answer, she glanced over her shoulder and caught his eye.
An enchanter’s heart was not supposed to be so easily influenced, but his lurched and clenched and broke a little more.
Chapter Fourteen
Long after darkness fell, Ciro walked among his men—and women—and studied them with the loving care of a stern father. It amused him to scrutinize the women who had answered his call. Females were often viewed as being weaker than males, but in his experience that was very often not the case. In battle, the few women among his Own had fought as diligently as the men.
His army was exhausted after the razing of the village that had been the site of their first battle. Days had passed, and yet they seemed satisfied. Sated. His Own warriors were not accustomed to the physical aspects of warfare. They fought with vigor, but their bodies were not as strong as they should be.
Strength would come, in time
And so would she. The warrior woman in white was coming his way. She was marching to him as if he called to her in a way she could not understand or deny. In dreams he had seen the woman’s face, thanks to the Isen Demon, and she looked familiar to him. The Ciro he had once been had known her, but apparently she had been of no real importance because whatever memories he carried of her were buried deep.
All had not gone exactly as he’d planned in the village, but he could not look back on that night without some hint of pride. His legion was brutal and merciless. They would do whatever he asked of them. All who faced them would feel utter terror, and rightly so.
Ciro knew he should take care not to allow his Own too much free rein. If they had their way, by the time winter arrived, there would be nothing of Columbyana left for him to rule.
With Fynnian gone, Ciro was forced to formulate his own plans. The warrior in white would be dealt with first, and then, when she was dead, he would march to Arthes and proceed with his father. It would not be difficult. The emperor was frail, infected with the Isen Demon’s darkness just enough to make him weak.
In Arthes he would kill his father and claim the throne that was rightfully his. When that was done, he would send someone to collect Rayne and have her delivered to him. Or else he would do the collecting himself. He had not decided. In either case, Rayne would be his empress, and she would give him a son. A son who would be more Isen Demon than human. A son who would be unlike any other the world had ever seen. Only utter darkness and unfailing light could produce such a child. He provided the darkness; Rayne provided the light.
Ciro hated to admit to such a human failing, but in many ways he missed the cranky old wizard who had been with him since the beginning of this journey. Fynnian had been bothersome and often did not know his place, but he was better company than these soulless creatures who called themselves Ciro’s Own, and a much better conversationalist than the more ordinary soldiers who cared only for weaponry and tales of their victories and, on occasion, the souvenirs they took from the battleground.
If he grew very hungry as he waited for the woman in white to arrive, he’d feed on the soldiers Fynnian had organized. There was not an unmarked soul among them, which was understandable considering their mercenary calling, and while they would not offer the power and flavor of the white souls he craved, they would suffice in times of hunger. He did not experience the same possessive affection for them his Own elicited. They were necessary, for the time being, but soon enough they would become expendable.
From his position high on the rough cliffside, Ciro looked down on the winding road below. On the other side of the trail was a decently leafed stand of trees. With some men positioned there, others here where he stood, and still others stationed just to the west, the small army that thought to take him would march into a trap from which they would not be able to escape.
Ciro knew the warrior woman he almost recognized and the pathetic army she led would come this way. One of his Own was leading them here, just as she had promised she would.
The wizard Chamblyn was with the army. Not only did the Isen Demon tell him so, but the female who so easily led the army to this ambush also reached for Ciro in the night and whispered in his ear. They were connected, after all, as all his Own were. He was powerful, Chamblyn was, perhaps more powerful even than Fynnian had been. If he could be turned, he’d make a fine addition to Ciro’s Own.
If not, then his soul would feed Ciro and the Isen Demon well. Wizards, by their very nature, walked a fine line between light and dark. Chamblyn’s soul might not be as tainted as Fynnian’s had been, but he was not pure. No permission would be needed to feed upon his soul.
The soldier who was with the warrior woman whispered in the night. I’m coming. I won’t make you wait much longer. Remember what you promised me, my prince. Remember.
I remember well.
Ciro smiled as he severed the connection. It was a fool who put stock in promises from one such as he had become.
***
Sian cursed under his breath as he glanced at Ariana. She had given Lilia her green uniform, since the girl’s dress had been ruined beyond repair, and so she wore the only other clothing she had with her. The white. The white which made her shine like a beacon beneath the sun or the moon; the white which marked her as special and different; the white which would call every enemy directly to her. The fucking white.
If she were not so small, he would insist that someone in the party exchange clothes with her. Unfortunately, that was not an option.
“Why are you glaring at me?” she asked in a lowered voice. They rode side by side, with a few soldiers before them and the rest behind. Since coming upon the destroyed village, they had all been restless and tense. There was less casual conversation, less chatter. Perhaps they all felt the weight of what they approached, as he did.
; “I am not glaring,” Sian insisted.
Ariana looked at him and smiled halfheartedly. “I have not been acquainted with you for a long time, enchanter, but I do know your glare well.”
“Fine,” he snapped. “White? What were you thinking? Whatever possessed you—”
“Interesting choice of words,” she interrupted. “Whatever possessed me? Do you think Diella chose the white and I am unaware?”
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “It does have a dramatic flair, but it also makes you much too easy to identify in a sea of green.”
Ariana smiled. “At first I thought a brilliant white uniform would be wonderfully symbolic. White light will be necessary to win this war, and we must embrace that light. I don’t believe it actually brings power to us, but it reminds me of why I’m here.” She shrugged as if her reasons were unimportant. “The white amid all the green also reminds me that I cannot hide from who I am.”
“There’s nothing wrong with hiding,” he snapped. “There’s also no reason to go out of your way to bring attention to your position of importance.”
“It’s done. I cannot go back and undo it.”
She was maddeningly calm. Sian was no empath, and yet he felt the approach of darkness. He felt the coming of destiny, and he knew it would not be pretty. Monsters, the prophesy promised. After seeing what Ciro’s men had done to the village, “monster” was a fitting term. Was that why the men remained so silent? Did they feel the approach of the battle they had been called to as surely as he did?
It was a warm day. Summer had not arrived, but on a day like this the scent of coming summer was in the air. When it was possible, they traveled in the shade of ancient trees that lined the road. In the cool shadows the white was not so prominent as it was when the sun shone down, but even here it was bright and drew the eye.
All were silent as they made their way through another patch of shade.
“Do you feel it coming?” he asked, his voice again lowered so no one else could hear.
“Yes,” Ariana answered.
“When?”
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