Deathcaster

by Cinda Williams Chima

  “Can you ride?” Shadow said to DeVilliers. “If so, we should get moving. There may be more of them.”

  DeVilliers insisted she could, so Shadow helped boost her up into the saddle.

  “I’ll ride in front,” Lila said, “and Shadow can bring up the rear and keep an eye on our back trail.”

  They moved more slowly after the encounter with the Darian Brothers, for fear of blundering into another trap. But they encountered nobody else, and finally the trees thinned, the trail leveled, and the clearing around the temple house came into view. It was more of a cabin than a temple, in the rustic style of the Old Church shrines. They sat their horses just on the edge of the woods and watched for signs of life. With the rain still pouring down, it was unlikely anyone would be taking the air. A wisp of smoke leaked from the chimney, so somebody was there, or had been recently.

  “Stay here and cover me,” Lila said.

  “I’ll go,” Shadow said quickly, angling his horse across her path.

  “Look, you’re a deadeye with a bow,” Lila said. “I’m useless at a distance, so there’s no way I can cover you.”

  Shadow knew she was telling the truth, so he stayed with DeVilliers, while Lila nudged Swiver forward. As she crossed the clearing, every nerve was tingling, anticipating pain.

  She reached the temple house without incident, dismounted, and tied the stallion to the porch in front. At the side of the house, she saw what appeared to be a pile of bloody, sodden clothing, but never is.

  Lila approached warily and nudged it with her foot, rolling it over. It was what was left of one of the Darian Brothers, blood spattered all around. A knife lay in the mud nearby. He looked like he’d been torn apart by wolves. In fact, he was surrounded by wolf prints.

  Lila turned back toward where Shadow and DeVilliers were watching from the trees and shook her head. Nobody we know.

  She climbed the steps to the porch, where she found another body, similarly clad, similarly dead. This one looked like he’d been trying to get in the door when he was attacked. The latch was smeared with blood.

  She tried the door. It was unlocked, and she pushed it open with her foot, standing to one side to give Shadow a clear shot if somebody rushed out.

  When no such thing happened, she craned her neck around the doorframe and peered inside.

  As she’d suspected, a fire was still smoldering on the hearth. Dirty plates and cups littered the table, as if a meal had been interrupted. There were no signs of a struggle, and no more bodies, and no more blood inside. It appeared that the queen, her captain, and their Demonai bodyguards had fled in a hurry, leaving most of their belongings behind.

  If they had been there at all.

  “Hello?” she said, quietly at first, and then more loudly. “Is anyone here?”

  There was no answer.

  Lila breathed out slowly, seriously relieved that she wouldn’t have to clean up after another Darian bloodbath.

  She loped silently up the stairs. On one side of the staircase was a dormitory, usually occupied by dedicates, but recently by the Demonai warriors, who’d been guarding the Gray Wolf queen. On the other side, three small bedrooms; all looked recently occupied but were now empty of people.

  Lila emerged from the last of the bedrooms, turned toward the stairs, and found herself eye to eye with a massive silver wolf. There was no way to get past it—it practically filled the gallery, blocking the way back to the stairs. She looked over the railing to the floor below, debating whether she’d break her legs if she jumped. Then she’d be in an even worse fix.

  She considered and discarded the idea of barricading herself in one of the bedrooms. The wolf would be on top of her long before she got that far.

  With a sigh, Lila pulled her knife and broadened her stance, knowing that this was not the kind of close-up fight she could win.

  The wolf seemed more amused than anything else. “Put away the knife,” she said. “You cannot slay the dead.”

  Not just a wolf. An undead wolf. A talking undead wolf.

  “I know you fear the worst, but the queen regent is safe,” the wolf said.

  Lila licked her lips. “The queen regent?”

  Now I am having a conversation with a talking undead wolf.

  “She and your father are traveling east. The queen is on her way back to the Realms, but she is alone and in grave danger,” the wolf said.

  “Hang on. I thought you just said—”

  “Your mission at court is not over,” the wolf said. “Your father was right—it is a very dangerous place—but you must go back.”

  “More dangerous than here?” Lila said.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” the wolf said.

  “Were you the one who killed the priests outside?”

  “My daughters and I did,” the wolf said. “That and our warning gave the queen regent time to get away.” She shook her great head in the manner of an elder deploring what the world was coming to. “At one time, that kind of interference would have been unthinkable. Once the wall between the living and the dead is breached, it becomes more and more tempting to intervene.”

  “So. You’re . . . uh . . . dead,” Lila said. “Who are you?”

  “I am Hanalea ana’Maria, the founder of the New Line of queens.”

  “I thought that was just a story,” Lila said.

  “It is a story,” Hanalea said, “but some stories are true.”

  So, Lila thought of saying, what is the Demon King like?

  But the great wolf had a presence that made Lila want to be on her best behavior.

  “I thought you just appeared to the Gray Wolf queens,” Lila said.

  “To the queens, of course,” Hanalea said, “and occasionally to the queen’s family, and to the Line of guardians.”

  “The guardians?”

  “Guardians like your father,” Hanalea said.

  “Oh.” Lila cleared her throat, feeling like the worst kind of shirker. “I’m not really in the family business. In fact, Princess Alyssa has—”

  “Queen Alyssa,” Hanalea corrected her gently.

  “Queen Alyssa already has a bound captain,” Lila said. Unless—did this mean that Captain Talbot was dead?

  “Captain Talbot is alive, and the queen is alive. For now. In these times, many guardians are needed.”

  So now I’m being ganged into the Gray Wolf guard? No, thank you.

  “You are called, Lila Byrne,” Hanalea said. “It is in your nature to serve.”

  Lila was thoroughly unsettled by the wolf’s seeming ability to dip into her mind.

  However, one does not argue with a giant wolf, dead or not, that has just ripped a pack of Darian Brothers to pieces.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “You and the others must return to court and protect the queen’s interests as best you can. Identify who the traitors are and eliminate them. The queen must have a throne to return to.”

  Sure, Lila thought, and what about the day after tomorrow? She couldn’t seem to rein in her mocking mind. But the wolf didn’t seem to be offended.

  “Young one,” Hanalea said gently, “you have already sacrificed much in service to the Line, and more will be demanded of you. The life of the guardians is not an easy one. Your grandfather gave his life, and your father gave up his family.”

  All at once, inexplicably, Lila was crying, tears running down her cheeks, her chest heaving with silent sobs.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m sorry. I never meant— I didn’t understand.”

  Hanalea nudged in next to her, her broad back at Lila’s chest level, and Lila leaned on the ancient queen, burying her face in her fur.

  Lila heard a door open and close, the sound of footsteps below.

  “Lila?” It was Shadow.

  Lila straightened, her hands still clutching Hanalea’s fur.

  “Now,” Hanalea said softly, “I think it’s best if the council continues to believe that the queen regent is here at the
temple house. If they think she’s here, they will not look for her elsewhere.” Her shape shimmered, became indistinct, and was gone.

  Lila looked down into the hearth room. DeVilliers leaned against the wall by the door in case she had to make a quick getaway. Shadow stood at the bottom of the steps, and was looking up toward the gallery.

  “I’m up here,” Lila called over the railing.

  Shadow trudged up the steps and joined Lila at the railing, and leaned a little sideways to look into her face. “Are you all right? I saw the bodies outside. Is there any sign of . . .” He trailed off. “You’re crying.” Gently, he wiped tears from her face with the edge of his thumb and looked toward the bedrooms. “Are you—are we too late?”

  “No,” Lila said, clearing her throat and scrubbing at her face with her sleeve. “Nobody’s home. I don’t think the Darian Brothers ever got inside. It looks like the wolves held them off until the queen, Byrne, and the others got away.”

  “The wolves . . . held them off?” Shadow looked around. “What wolves?”

  “Didn’t you see the tracks outside?” she said. Not allowing him time to ask any more questions, she turned toward the stairs. “Let’s go down and see if we can get DeVilliers patched up. We shouldn’t stay here long. Whoever sent those assassins knew where the queen’s party was staying. They may drop by to count the bodies.”

  “We should wait for them, then,” Shadow said grimly.

  There’s the self-destructive, foolhardy Shadow I know and love, Lila thought. It also brought back memories of trying to convince Prince Adrian to leave Oden’s Ford after the attack on the dormitory.

  “There are only three of us,” Lila said, “and our only wizard is injured. We don’t know who’d be coming, or how many. We’re the only ones who can speak to what happened here.”

  “We could go after the queen and see if they need help,” Shadow said. “They couldn’t be too far away.”

  Lila shook her head. “I think we should go back to Fellsmarch and do the job we were asked to do. That’s the best way to help the queen.”

  Shadow cocked his head, drawing his eyebrows together.

  “What?” Lyss said irritably.

  “It’s just that I thought you’d jump at any excuse to leave court,” Shadow said. “Now you want to go back?”

  “Sometimes you don’t get to do what you want,” Lila said.

  38

  DARK DAYS IN DELPHI

  Destin rode into Delphi with a company of mages the day after the city surrendered to Bellamy’s army. He was surprised to find that the city had improved since his last visit. The air was cleaner, for one thing, and the river that ran through the city was no longer an open sewer. The water still wasn’t safe to drink, but even now, in late spring, the stench no longer soured his stomach.

  There were schools now, for the children who had once worked in the mines. Some of the worst slums had been torn down, and that housing relocated up the mountain and closer to the mines, so that travel to and from was easier.

  True, parts of the city had been reduced to rubble in the battle for the city. It was still a cluster of mines and factories, with a town attached like a boil on an ironworker’s ass.

  The citizens were no more willing to take the yoke of Arden than they had when Destin was last there. In fact, having been given their first taste of freedom in a long time, they’d fought like demons, block by block, street by street, and house by house. Every inch of land was gained with blood and sweat.

  Though the townspeople fought tooth and nail, the regular Highlander army seemed to be absent.

  They made a choice, Destin thought. They’re fighting Celestine in the east. If they lose there, they know that what happens in Delphi is meaningless.

  There being no royal palace in Delphi, the king and his courtiers took over the opulent mayor’s palace. The mayor had died under mysterious circumstances not long after Arden lost control of the city. During his time in Delphi, Destin had worked with Willett Peters, and whatever had happened to him, he deserved it.

  Destin and Bellamy met with the king in the palace’s great hall to brief him on the status of the city. Jarat was absolutely giddy about the “easy victory” they’d achieved in Delphi. “All I hear about is how great a commander young Matelon is,” he crowed. “Well, he lost this city, and we won it back. It was prescient on our part to send an overwhelming force north to assure a quick and convincing victory.”

  Destin suspected that in this case the king was using the “royal” plural.

  “I think we should be careful not to be overconfident, Your Majesty,” Bellamy said. “We were fighting local militias and citizens with clubs, and we still suffered heavy losses. The outcome might have been different had we been facing the copperheads and the regular army.”

  “Well, then clearly we outfoxed them,” King Jarat said. “We caught them with their breeches down. I think we must give some credit to Colonel Karn and the intelligence service.” King Jarat was willing to raise a cup to just about anyone in his present mood. It was difficult to push praise away with both hands, but Destin knew how quickly that could change.

  “My eyes and ears are telling me that the bulk of the Highlander army has been deployed to the east, where fierce fighting continues with Empress Celestine’s forces,” Destin said.

  “Well, let’s hope the pirates keep them occupied until we take Fellsmarch,” King Jarat said. “My eyes and ears are telling me that the capital is similarly thinly garrisoned.”

  Every so often, the king drew blood in that way, reminding Destin that he had his own sources and knew secrets that the spymaster didn’t.

  “Let us hope for another easy victory, then,” Destin said, glancing at Bellamy. A muscle was working in the general’s jaw, but Bellamy kept his peace. He hadn’t survived for so long under General Karn’s command without learning when to keep his mouth shut.

  “How is the pacification of the population coming?” Jarat poured himself another cup of wine.

  “I think we can safely say that they are not pacified,” Destin said, “judging by three instances of sabotage in the past twenty-four hours.” The population hadn’t lost any skill when it came to blowing things up.

  “Isn’t this your second posting to Delphi?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Destin said. My third, actually, if you count my term as the general’s aide-de-camp, he thought.

  “Then you should know how to handle them by now,” Jarat said. “How many mages are here?”

  He asked this as if all mages must know each other and stay in touch.

  “I don’t know, Your Majesty,” Destin said. “Not many, I would guess, because most of the mages in the north have joined the war in the east. I believe that we only encountered two of them in the recent battle for the city.”

  “Where are they now?” Jarat said.

  Destin looked to Bellamy for answers.

  “One is dead, Your Majesty, and the other is a prisoner,” Bellamy said.

  “Colonel, I want you to locate all of the mages in this province,” Jarat said. “It may be that many of them are in hiding. I understand that, being a mage yourself, you are able to spot them. The first step will be to get collars on them.”

  “The first step, Your Majesty?” Dread collected in Destin’s gut.

  “This will prevent them from joining the war effort on the northern side, or leading insurrections in this city,” Jarat said, as if explaining to the slow-witted. “Eventually, we will collect them and hold them in a secure facility.”

  No. This was not the job Destin wanted. He’d already had that job, the last time he’d been sentenced to Delphi—hunting down someone who did not want to be found.

  Destin recalled the advice the general had given him, the day he’d met King Gerard in the garden to learn his fate after failing to kill the princeling, Adrian sul’Han.

  Whatever the king asks you to do, say yes.

  Simple advice that Destin was finding h
arder and harder to follow.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Destin said. “With the help of General Bellamy, I will assemble a team that—”

  “Colonel, rest assured, I would not assign you such an important task without offering you assistance,” King Jarat said. He gestured to an aide, who left the room.

  The aide returned, leading nine black-robed figures. Destin’s heart sank.

  “I believe that you have worked with these people before,” Jarat said. “My contact Lord Darian has explained to me the role his dedicates played in the failed operation at Oden’s Ford. Despite his losses, he has once again offered us his assistance in cleansing the north of the scourge of magic. Although they won’t have a specific scent to follow this time, he assures me that they can track the stench of magery to wherever it is hiding.” Jarat paused. “I do hope you will take better care of his faithful than you did the last time.”

  39

  FRIENDLY FIRE

  In the days after Ardenscourt fell to Hal’s little army, the rest of his recruited regulars arrived to reinforce their garrison. All told, he counted more than a thousand soldiers and fifteen freed mages under his command. He’d also done some hard thinking about where he wanted to go and how he would get there.

  During his time in Delphi, he’d never moved beyond the role of the commander of an army of occupation. Delphi had never bent the knee to Arden, and Hal had avoided any meaningful engagement with the citizens. His immediate goal had been to return to what he saw as the real battlefield as soon as possible.

  This should be different. This was his country—he’d grown up here and shed his blood in its service. He had a vested interest in its future.

  But Hal wanted to live in a place where all voices were heard, where soldiers fought not for money, but for ideas they believed in, and to protect the realm. Where rulers put the good of their people first.

  That was one of the reasons he’d promised to help Lyssa Gray defend her embattled realm from its enemies. He preferred to do it with an Ardenine army and the backing of the Ardenine king, but he’d do it on his own if need be. He hoped he could find his family, and the families of the other thanes, and send them home. That would fulfill his last great promise to the empire he had served for so long.