by James Somers
Radden stammered for a moment. Feelings for his son? How could such a thing possibly be? Killian had only met the girl minutes ago during the battle. He began to say exactly this, when Shalindra cut him off.
“Something has happened that no one else is aware of, not even the girl or your son,” she said. “When it is discovered, Killian will be put to death in order to break its power.”
Eyes wide with horror, Radden demanded, “What? What has happened, Shalindra?”
“Unwittingly, a bond has been made.”
“Impossible,” Radden said, closing his eyes as a sudden dizziness tried to overcome him. He very nearly fainted there in the street. When he opened his eyes again, Shalindra was no longer present upon the King’s Road. Eliam’s priestess had disappeared as mysteriously as she had appeared.
He stumbled for a moment, throwing out his hand to steady himself. His hand landed upon the warm, muscular side of a horse. Radden looked up as the horse nickered in his ear. A black mare stood upon the road with him.
“Esmeralda,” he said, smiling. Then he found his strength and put his foot inside the stirrup, hoisting himself into her saddle. “We’ve got to hurry to the palace, girl. Killian is in trouble.”
This news was all Esmeralda needed to spur her on. She whinnied and turned on the spot, charging down the road toward the palace standing at the heart of Rainier, at the end of the King’s Road. Wounded soldiers, shrouded in mist and the smoke of flaming debris, watched them go.
Judah shook his head, a wild mane of coarse hair flailing about him in the near dark of the catacombs that lay beneath the royal city of Rainier. “Where is my report?” he shouted.
Two dozen of his Cindermen soldiers waited with him upon news from the surface. Down below, they had only heard the initial explosion that began their attack upon the King’s Road. If all had gone as planned, then the latest attempt by the royal family to bring one of the Daughters of Eliam to the palace as a bond for the prince had failed.
Judah had had the opportunity to kill the previous girl with his own hands. Unfortunately, his presence during this attack had been forbidden by their benefactor; a man of few words but great in power. Judah did not enjoy being put into this position, but circumstances being what they were, he found himself with little choice.
His people had long been considered abominations by the humans. At one time, hundreds of years ago, they were enslaved; used by the royals to fight their wars with one another. A time of rebellion had ended all of that.
Now, the Cindermen were outcasts, living nomadic lives, raising their families the best they could, while the humans dwelled in walled cities having the finer things in life. Judah meant to see an end to this hierarchy, to bring down the royals and have the Cindermen rise to positions of status. For the time being, he would work with those humans who were willing to grant him the opportunities he needed. But a day was coming when he meant to crush them beneath his feet and take all for his people.
The waiting made his men anxious, but Judah remained calm. His ancestors had waited as long as necessary amid the high grasses for their prey to finally come to them. He tensed only when—after an hour had passed since the initial explosion—he saw several of his soldiers coming down the long corridor with his benefactor in tow.
This man, dressed in black and wearing a wide-brimmed hat of the same color, walked toward him almost soundlessly. In comparison, the plodding of the four Cindermen who surrounded him every step of the way seemed thunderous. Judah knew Kane’s reputation among the humans. He was considered a master of stealth and assassination.
Kane had employers, perhaps even genuine allies, but he had no real friends. He had no use for such relationships, no desire to share his life with another. Judah admired and pitied the man. He was a true warrior, but there was no joy in him.
When the group came to stand before him in the half-light, Judah wasted no time. “You killed my warriors in the forest.”
Instantly, the soldiers surrounding Kane turned on him, their muscles coiling like springs ready to attack. The assassin did not move except to smile a little. Retractable claws came out also as they bore their teeth in anticipation of Judah’s command to strike the human down.
“Do you also wish to have these die?” Kane asked in a mirthful tone.
Judah’s eyes narrowed on the man. “They had the girl,” he said. “We could have ended this then and spared ourselves the effort today.”
Kane raised his head, so that the brim of his hat revealed bright almost luminescent eyes. He was still smiling. “I wanted the attack to take place here in the city,” he said. “House Rainier must understand their vulnerability.”
“So they can guard themselves?” Judah growled.
Kane’s grin softened a little. “When you spook the herd, they panic.”
Judah nodded slowly, showing teeth in his version of a smile. “And make mistakes.”
Silence hung between them for a moment. Judah’s soldiers relaxed only a little. They still wanted to kill the human in their midst. Long held prejudices were difficult to forget.
Judah’s smile disappeared a moment later. “Still, my fellow Cindermen are dead by your hand, human. You’ll have to pay for that.”
For a fraction of a second, there was complete silence in the subterranean chamber. Even the ghosts haunting the shadows were unsure what to make of Judah’s statement.
Judah smiled again—the smile of a wolf on the hunt.
“Kill him.”
The Cindermen pounced like cats upon a helpless mouse. Only this was no mouse, and he was as far from helpless as could be. The Cindermen nearly collided with one another in their eagerness, but Kane had already moved. Nearly too fast to see, the assassin ducked beneath the first two attacks, grabbing one of his assailants by the arm in the process. A moment later this wolf-like Cinderman was lying on the stone floor with the joints of his wrist, elbow, and shoulder torn out of place.
The other three soldiers turned on him, finding their prey. Except, in the eyes of the assassin, he was the hunter and they were the prey. The first soldier died less than a second later as Kane’s silver blade stabbed him through the breastbone. Fearlessly, the other two pursued him in a whirling confusion Judah found hard to follow.
The third flew through the air toward the lion-like leader of the Cindermen, landing hard on the stone floor of the catacomb tunnel with his neck broken. Kane stood still as the last came to him, claws and teeth ready to rend human flesh. Something akin to thunder resounded in the tunnel with them. Otherworldly light flashed in the assassin’s eyes.
The lizard-like Cinderman stopped short of his prey, fear on his face. He attempted a swift retreat, but Kane had him by the throat, hoisting him from the ground bodily. His fingers tightened. The lizard man’s vertebrae popped and snapped. The life in his eyes died and the assassin cast his rag doll body to the ground at Judah’s feet.
“Impressive,” Judah said.
Kane fixed his gaze upon the Cinderman leader, his eyes still burning brightly like two hot coals in their sockets. “Shall I kill you next?” he said menacingly.
Judah smiled. “Do what you will,” he said, “but you’ll find that I don’t back down from a fight, whether human or Malkind spirit.”
The supernatural light diminished to almost nothing. Kane took one step closer. “Which is why I chose you,” he said.
“Just as your power with the Malkind is why I follow you…for now.”
“Then we understand one another,” Kane said. “Regroup with your Cindermen and prepare for what is coming.”
“You believe they will come for us?” Judah asked. “Attempt an attack on the Cindermen?”
“Not necessarily,” Kane said. “Even the royal house does not have the time or the means to expend upon you right now. To send their army after a band of murderous rogues would leave them vulnerable to the other houses.”
“They’ll know that someone on the inside had to help the Cindermen
into the city,” Judah said. “They’ll be searching for a traitor in their midst.”
Kane smiled like a ravenous animal about to kill. “And they will certainly find one,” he said. “One of my choosing.”
Concubines
“Confound this broth!” Stephen bellowed. His female attendant jumped at the outburst, unsure if she should remove the steaming bowl, or simply bow her way backwards out of the king’s presence. She lowered her gaze and simply waited for direction. Possibly, the king would decide to hurl the concoction at the far wall. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
Mistress Evelyn stood at the end of the king’s bed, watching and waiting.
“Just once before I die I would like to have a meal I could actually enjoy,” Stephen complained. “A juicy piece of veal steeped in a buttery sauce of some kind.”
“Now, Stephen, even if you got it down, you would never keep it down,” she said.
“I don’t really care anymore, Evelyn. At least, I might enjoy it for a moment. This foul liquid diet is about to drive me insane.”
“It really is for your own good, dear,” she said, doing her best to seem soothing. Still, it was foreign to her nature and not easily pulled off.
Stephen narrowed his gaze upon her. “What you mean to say, my love,” he said with not a small amount of sarcasm, “is that it is good for House Rainier that I cling to life so that you are not overrun by Rollace or Auturn or some other great house waiting for me to die.”
Evelyn lost her motherly demeanor in an instant, her voice growing hard as flint. “And is that not good for you, Stephen? Or do you wish to see all that we have built over the years razed to the ground by our enemies? Would that make you happy, to have your heir killed and your namesake driven from remembrance?”
Stephen’s countenance became even more downcast as she berated him, yet he did not interrupt her. Rather, he began to look much like a pouting, spoiled child who has been denied the opportunity to stay up past his bedtime. He muttered under his breath, even as Evelyn continued.
“Yes,” she said, “We need you to live, so that House Rainier can successfully raise up a new king. You have known this for some time. You yourself decided what must be done before you became too sick to leave your bed. Now is no time to start behaving like you would see us all dead for spite’s sake.”
She was breathing hard now, but she did not pace about the room. Evelyn had always been strong. This characteristic, more than anything, was why Stephen had chosen her as his bride and mistress of House Rainier.
He crossed his arms over his chest, huffing out his breaths, if only to have some form of the last word on the matter. “Of course, I don’t want our house destroyed,” he grumbled. “I never said that.”
Evelyn softened again. “Neither is it our wish that you be in this situation,” she said. “However, a mortal life is what it is. We must all face death. I would rather have you back in all your glory, Stephen, as you were in the days when you stood against the other houses and made them afraid to challenge your authority.”
She smiled as she thought about times past—a genuine smile, for those days were good days for them in their marriage and in their kingdom. It had been during that time that she bore Stephen his heir, and they had been happy together.
“I’m sorry,” he said, closing his eyes. “It’s just hard to have one’s strength sapped away, day by day.”
Evelyn nodded, patting his shoulder. “I understand,” she whispered, not quite bringing herself to kiss him on the cheek. It had been some time since they were so affectionate toward one another. “Now, eat your broth. Keep your strength up, as best you can, for the sake of your son and the kingdom you will leave him.”
Stephen took up his silver spoon again, dipping it into the mixture of broth and diced vegetables. He reluctantly shoved a spoonful into his mouth. He continued to grumble through the process, but remained compliant.
Evelyn turned to his attendant, speaking so that the king could also hear her instruction. “See that he also takes his medicine as prescribed by Physician Calloway.”
The female attendant bowed her ascent, keeping her gaze down toward the floor until the queen walked past her.
Evelyn paused at the end of the large bedchamber, glancing toward the woman seated there also taking her meal. “I expect that you will continue to do your duty until the last possible moment.”
Bella, the king’s bond and a Daughter of Eliam, paused in her eating, but did not look up at the queen. She sat upon a couch near the door, wearing rust colored robes of silk. Her hair was hidden away beneath a scarf of the same color. Her face was unadorned by makeup of any kind, revealing skin creased by lines more and more as the king’s health deteriorated.
“Your strength is his strength,” Evelyn said, scowling down at the woman. “Fail to keep him alive long enough and I’ll see that the Malkind have a new plaything. You will not die when he does unless I allow it.”
Bella nodded. “Yes, my lady,” she said. “I will do my very best to serve, as always.”
Evelyn sniffed at the comment, unwilling to confirm that the king’s concubine had always done her best. Inwardly, she knew that Bella had been very easy to command. The woman had obviously been impeccably trained at the abbey during her youth. Evelyn had no real criticism of her performance of her duties. Still, she had no love for Bella either.
She strode from the room, leaving Stephen and Bella in the care of the king’s attendants. Evelyn hoped her husband would manage to survive. His health had been in decline over the last two years, the situation becoming dire only recently. It had become imperative that her son complete the bonding ceremony as soon as possible.
A soldier opened the bedchamber door, allowing her out into the hall again. Evelyn headed for the other concubine now residing inside the royal palace. While Bella had been an ideal servant to House Rainier, Raven bode ill for becoming the same. Every time Evelyn thought of the trouble the girl has caused, she ground her teeth in frustration.
She passed down the corridor, her fingers brushing the goldstone delicately. This particular variety was very white with veins of gold running like rivulets through it. The stone work was very precise, accomplished by stone workers from the Guild. Using wands, they were able to smooth and polish the stones to a glossy mirror finish.
Crystals infused with light also adorned the walls in gold and silver sconces, creating a steady unwavering illumination unmatched by standard lamps and candles. All around her, the blessings of their Malkind masters stood as a testament to their pleasure with House Rainier. As much to them as for her family, Evelyn meant to see that this dynasty did not fall.
Coming to a stone stair, she descended to a lower level. Here there was an octagonal chamber with rooms that were hardly more than prison cells. Though they were finely furnished within, their occupants did not have freedom to come and go as they pleased. There were twelve such rooms opening to the chamber, but only one was occupied at this time. Its door was securely locked from the outside where a group of no less than a dozen soldiers stood guard over Evelyn’s new guest.
The door was made of metal and had been spelled so as to prevent escape through the use of Raven’s power as a Daughter of Eliam. Of course, she was not the first to be housed here. All of House Rainier’s bonds from among the Bright Ones had spent at least their first few weeks in one of these rooms within the palace at Rainier. Raven was simply no exception; though, in Evelyn’s estimation, the girl was particularly likely to attempt an escape.
Ever since meeting the girl, Evelyn had found her to be problematic. Raven had been willful and prone to skepticism regarding the laws of their kingdom. She placed her own logic and reasoning above that of her superiors, if she disagreed with a policy or law. It had often been the case. Now, she had been found attempting to escape during the Cinderman attack in the city and she had been in the company of a young apprentice bladesmith.
The guards unlocked and opened the door. E
velyn stepped to the threshold, drawing her wand from her sleeve so that Raven could see the motion plainly. Intimidation went a long way when dealing with slaves like these Bright Ones.
Evelyn stood still, her wand hanging in her hand at her side. Raven sat upon the couch at the end of the poster bed. The room was spacious and decorated luxuriously. It could never be said that these Bright Ones were made to live poorly. They were allowed to dwell like royalty in the very palace of the king. Why would they ever desire to leave? Evelyn wondered.
The girl did not speak. Her expression was one of cold detachment. Evelyn could tell already that Raven meant to make matters difficult. Like a spoiled child, she thought. Obviously, the rod had been spared on this one too much.
“Where is Killian?” Raven asked.
Evelyn, ready to address the girl, was surprised by this forwardness. It was not Raven’s place to speak until she was spoken to, and then only when an answer was required. Once again, she proved herself willful.
Evelyn ignored the question. She had no intention of being treated disrespectfully by a slave, neither did she intend to reward bad behavior with its desire. She would provide what was necessary and nothing more. Her questions were those that would be answered.
Evelyn flicked the tip of her wand in a warning manner. Raven’s eyes turned warily to the instrument. Still, the defiance in the girl’s eyes remained.
“You attempted to escape twice while on your way to the palace,” Evelyn said. Her next words were on her lips when the girl interrupted her again.
“In both cases, Cindermen were trying to kill me,” Raven spat. “Just as they killed Celia on the road.”
Evelyn bit back her rebuke for a moment, the wand shuddering in her trembling hand.
“You heard about the attack on the road?” Evelyn asked. She had assumed the news would come to them back at the abbey, of course.
“I saw the attack when it happened,” Raven replied.
There was anger there, malice toward the Cindermen and, Evelyn sensed, toward her. However, this statement about witnessing the attack on the road was too much. Evelyn could not let this foolishness pass. She raised her wand toward the girl and then reconsidered.