Blood Of Gods (Book 3) (38 page)

“What of Cornwall Lawrence?” asked Romeo in his sullen tone.

“That house has been all but wiped off the map,” she told him. “I received word that a renegade cousin of Trenton Blackbard butchered the entire family. Of them, only the youngest daughter is still alive, and she is trapped in Veldaren, unable to lay stake to her claim.”

Romeo’s eyebrows lifted. “That is no good,” he said. “If
Blackbard
has control of Omnmount . . . ”

“He doesn’t,” Catherine said, cutting him off. “The cousin—and his men—were brought to an end.”

“By whom, pray tell?” asked Cleo.

“Moira, and five other sellswords I sent north.”

Cleo sat back and clapped once more. “I should have known! How splendid! You said you sent the lost Crestwell away, but never why or where. You truly
are
a devious one, sweet Catherine!”

For a woman,
she thought dismissively, but let it go unsaid.

“As of now, young Elias Gandrem is keeping hold of the settlement,” she continued. “His father has sent a party to assist him at my request. However, this doesn’t matter. All that matters is that this tragedy is something we can use to our advantage. None but Elias and Moira know that the Blackbard cousin acted on his own, and that story can be . . . twisted to suit our needs. The way I see it, Trenton is our greatest threat. And with the Gandrem house beholden to Peytr Gemcroft and now myself, it is another coin in our pockets. We can use this against Blackbard and convince the others to do the same.”

Both brothers leaned forward, assuming similar poses with their elbows dangling between the draping fabric of their frocks. “House Gemcroft will be in turmoil soon,” said Cleo. “We have seen to
that . . . ” He trailed off there, eyes flicking over his shoulder.
Catherine
glanced over their heads, at her maids and the two
crossbow
-
wielding
lute players, and nodded. The five girls bowed and exited the room, leaving her alone with the brothers Connington.

“What is it you propose?” asked Romeo. The man sounded truly intrigued, even awed, which filled Catherine with pride.

“First, we must decide whom to deal with, and whom to cast aside,” she said. “When the gods no longer walk the land, it is up to us, the people, to guide our own fates. Those who feed our citizens, keep them safe, will be loved the most.” She smiled wide. “And those who gain the most love? Why they will be us, and we will have the power not only to sway kings, but to
choose
them.”

“The truth in those words is inspiring,” said Cleo, inclining his head in respect. “However, I regret to tell you that there is no guarantee Karak will lose this war. Even with all our preparations, toppling a god is no easy task. How can you be so confident?”

“Because I’m a mother,” she said with a casual wave of the hand. “Everyone seems to forget that Dezrel is a world of three deities, not two. And the strongest one is the one who created it. The goddess is the mother of her children no less than I am to mine, and mothers are protective of what they’ve birthed. When this conflict between the brother gods threatens all she has created, she’ll end both of them forever.”

“Are you certain of this?”

Catherine grinned. “Would you like to ask my dear beloved Matthew that question?”

C
HAPTER

32

D
arkness was Aullienna’s only companion, and it was a poor one at that. It whispered evil into her ears whenever she felt a glimmer of hope, suffocating her though she lay in open space. Her cell was kept dark at all times, even when food was brought to her. Those who brought it were formless in the black, invisible demons offering her disgusting slop. Every noise she heard was haunting, from the skittering of rats to the sound of footsteps tramping the soil above her head. With not even the faintest light to meet her keen elven eyes, her mind created the scenes for her, and each one was horrific. Monsters with tentacles whipping around them, hounds with fangs dripping blood and saliva, shadowy phantasms whose presence would make her shiver in her skin; each nightmare was worse than the last. It became nearly impossible to tell when she was dreaming or awake.

Yet the thoughts of her loved ones were far worse than the monsters in her mind. They came to her in waves: her nursemaid, Noni, with a knife popping out of her skull; Aaromar with an arrow through his eye; her mother’s face, bleeding and covered in bruises; Kindren, her love and betrothed, whose fingers had been sliced off by Aully’s wicked brother.
Kindren’s fingers.
She felt around the dirt floor of the cellar that was now her prison until they fell on a swathed clump of rolled fabric. She held the fabric close to her, beneath her chin, and felt the knucklebones of the fingers inside. The thing reeked of decay and was slimy to the touch, but she dealt with the stench and discomfort until her stomach inevitably cramped.
Please, Celestia, help me stay strong,
she pleaded with the darkness.
Give me the strength to fight.

This time, just as most others, she received no answer.

The stench of the rotting fingers became too much, and Aully gently placed them down beside her. Not that the smell improved much. She’d been forced to both relieve her bladder and defecate right there on the floor. The whole place smelled wretched, of sweat and shit and piss and death itself. She didn’t think she could ever get used to the reek.

A wave of dizziness hit her, and Aully curled into a ball. She felt bile in the back of her throat and gagged on it. Sensations such as these had been happening more and more often of late. She assumed it had something to do with whatever it was Carskel was feeding her. But in a way, she didn’t mind the discomfort. When she vomited, at least it was clear to her that she was awake.

A sound reached her ears—a
real
sound, the creak of a door being opened, footsteps moving slowly down the darkened hall. She lifted her head from her arms, and her stomach cramped once more. She reached blindly into the black, desperate for sustenance. It didn’t matter if what she was being fed was killing her. She needed to eat.

The footsteps ceased a few feet in front of her, and for a few languishing moments there was no sound at all. “Aullienna?” a voice asked. It spoke in a muddled whisper, and she couldn’t tell if it was male or female.

She croaked out a reply, her constricted throat not giving enough breath for words.

“There you are,” the whispering voice said.

A flame struck, filling her world with wonderful light. At first Aully recoiled from it, but then she lurched forward, reaching for the source of the illumination like an elf lusting for water after a week in the desert. But her hands never found the light. Instead, they rapped hard against the wooden planks that held her prisoner.

She sat back and drew her knees to her chest, gazing at the flickering light through the gap in the boards. The light revealed her accommodations—a twelve-foot-by-twelve-foot room surrounded by earthen walls on three sides. The cellar had once been used to store wine and tobacco, but now it stored only her. The dirt floor was covered with her bodily waste instead of skins and broad leaves. It was disgusting, but given that she could see for the first time in a long, long while, there was a part of her that found it beautiful nonetheless.

“Oh Aully, look at you. I’m so sorry.”

She squinted and inched along the slatted wall. Grabbing one of the boards, she pulled herself up and gazed through one of the lower gaps. The light was so bright out there in the passage that it seemed almost as bright as the stars in the heavens. The source of the light was high up, held in the hands of an immensely tall, shadowy being.

“Celestia?” she whispered. Tears formed in her eyes.

The form squatted down, and a hand touched hers. Three fingers and a thumb squeezed her palm. Aully squinted, trying to make her eyes adjust. Eventually her vision cleared and she saw the face of her Uncle Detrick staring back at her.

“Not Celestia,” she grumbled. Her hand slipped out of his, and she slid down the boards until she lay flat on the soiled ground
once more
.

“Aully, please,” her uncle said, pleading. His voice rose. “Sit up. Talk to me.”

Aully groused, inaudible to her own ears.

“What was that? Aully, I couldn’t hear you.”

She lifted her head. “Go away, Uncle.” Her voice was rasping and weak.

Shuffling came from the other side of the boards, and soon the light assaulted her face once more. Detrick was kneeling now, looking at her through the bottom slat. She simply stared back at him, her mind blank. Her uncle opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut. He reached beneath the boards, feeling the opposite side with the fingers of the hand Carskel had mangled, his mouth curving into a grimace of concentration. The thick boards were positioned in even intervals, with a seven-inch gap between each one. Detrick worked his way up, touching each board, steadily moving the light away from her as he rose.

“Bring it back,” she whispered.

“Bring what back?”

“The light. Please.”

Once more Detrick knelt down, and the wonderful light bathed her again. Aully tried to smile, but she wasn’t sure if she knew how to anymore.

“Carvings on the boards,” her uncle said. “Magical wards.”

“I know,” Aully said. She’d realized that the first time she’d tried to cast a spell. Her wicked brother had placed the same sort of protective net around the cellar that existed inside her father’s old study.

“How long has it been?” she asked. Despite the coldness she felt toward her uncle, he was still alive, and carried both voice and light. She had to keep him there, keep him talking.

Detrick sighed. “Twenty-eight days,” he said, the disgust plain in his voice.

Twenty-eight days.

“Where is Kindren?” she asked meekly.

Her uncle went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “He is a bastard, Aully, a sick bastard who will do anything to get his way. I should have known from the start with that one. I almost told your father when first I laid eyes on him as a screaming babe that he should toss the hideous thing into the Corinth and be done with.” He looked away. “I never did,” he said, “but I wish I had.”

“Kindren,” she whispered again. “Where is Kindren?”

Detrick blinked at her and reached through the gap. She shuffled away from his grasp. Her uncle sighed and leaned back.

“Kindren is safe,” he said. “He is in my chambers within Briar Hall. Your brother left him in my care.”

“His hand,” Aully sobbed, more to herself than to her uncle.

“I know,” said Detrick. “He was feverish for days after Carskel dumped him on me. I burned and bled the stumps of his fingers, but infection took root. For quite a while I thought I might lose him, so high was his fever. But your betrothed is a strong one, Aully. He pulled through.” Her uncle lifted his own mangled hand, gazing at the stub where his discarded finger had once been, and a solemn smile crossed his face. “We have bonded through our mutual disfigurement.”

How wonderful for you. You bond, while I lay here and rot, slowly poisoned with each passing day.

Suddenly annoyed, she inched closer to the slats and cleared her throat. “Why are you here?”

“To make sure you are well.”

Aully laughed, and with her coarse voice she sounded much older than her fourteen years. Her uncle tilted his head at her, moving closer to the gap, a frown on his lips.

“So tell me,” she rasped. “Do I look
well
?”

Detrick leaned closer to the boards, angling the candle he held through the gap and straining his eyes to look into the area beyond. Seeing the precious light up close, Aully mindlessly moved toward it, reaching out like it was a holy relic promising immeasurable power. Her uncle’s gaze found her.

“My goddess,” he gasped. “Aully, you are all skin and bones!”

She grabbed an empty clay bowl off the ground—she kept it close to the wall of boards, for if her jailers couldn’t find it when they came to bring her more slop, she would be left unfed until they returned the next day—and jettisoned it through the space between the boards. The bowl missed her uncle by inches, shattering when it struck the wall behind him. He fell back, almost losing hold of the candle when he withdrew his hand from the gap.

“I’m being poisoned, uncle,” she said. “Each day I grow sicker. My brother is trying to kill me.”

Detrick sighed and rubbed at his temple. “He is not trying to kill you, Aully. That would defeat his purpose for placing you
in here.
”

“If that is so, why am I sick?”

He waved his hand at her. “You have been living in your own filth, breathing it in. It is painful, yes, but not fatal . . . so long as you are allowed out of here soon.”

A gasp froze Aully’s throat. Just the thought of freedom made her feel dizzy.

“Uncle, please,” she said, pleading. “Please, release me. Break those boards and let me out. Let me gather up Kindren and my mother and flee this place. You can come with us! You’ve long told me how much you despise Carskel . . . and after what he did to your hand, after how he betrayed your brother . . . please, please, Uncle, help me! We can run away and find a safe place where we never have to look at his face again!”

Detrick looked away. His eyes watered.

“I am sorry, Aullienna. I cannot.”

Aully deflated, her moment of hope dashed. She crumpled again on the soiled ground and rolled into a ball, squeezing her eyes shut. “Go away,” she whispered, but it was so quiet she didn’t think her uncle could hear.

“My sweet niece,” Detrick said. His hand was on her then, his fingers running through her muck-soaked hair. “It would do no good to flee. The gods clash not two hundred miles from us. The lands to the east are burning. There is bedlam all around us. The only safety we have is here, in our forest.” She opened her eyes and saw him shaking his head through the gap. He smiled, and it was forced. “As much as I hate your brother, as much as I wish him dead, he is right. The only way to guarantee our safety is to change, to conform. It may not be so bad. Carskel was young and brash when he hurt our dear Brienna. With you, he may be gentle. With you, he may be noble.”

“Go away,” she breathed.

“What was that?” her uncle asked.

“I said
go away
!”

Detrick flinched and pulled back his mangled hand. “I am sorry, Aullienna, but I know no other way.”

“Of course you don’t,” she muttered, remembering her father’s words when she’d asked him why he had been made Lord of
Stonewood
when Detrick was the older of the two.
“My brother is docile,”
Cleotis Meln had said.
“Detrick is no leader. He is a follower through and through. It is simply what he does best.”

“You can’t save me,” she said.

“That’s right,” her uncle answered. “I cannot.”

“Then what am I to do?”

He leaned back into the boards, and they creaked. “Your brother will visit you in three days. When he comes, he will ask you questions, and he will expect you to answer correctly. He wishes for you to love him, Aullienna, for you to dedicate your life to him. You must do this. It is our only hope. Should you do this, and should he find your answer true, you will be free. Your mother will be safe. I will be allowed to marry her, to assume the Lord’s Chair at her side.”

“You?” she asked, her voice still drained. “What of Carskel?”

“He is nervous. He’s had trouble bringing the whole of our people to his cause, and he has not heard from his contacts in Dezerea for quite some time. So after you are wed, you and your new husband will leave Stonewood and head for Dezerea with the Dezren prince. After that . . . to be honest, my sweet niece, I have no idea. I have heard from Ethir Ayers that Carskel has been promised a position on the Quellan council for his part in their schemes, but I don’t know for certain.”

She heard what he offered, and this time Aully couldn’t keep from crying.

Detrick’s hand found her yet again, gently caressing her filthy bare shoulder. “Hush, child. It is difficult, I know. But please, I beg of you . . . accept what your brother offers. Swear your love to him, pledge him your hand. I tire of seeing you suffer so. I tire of
all
our suffering.” His tone changed, becoming deeper, almost accusatory. “If you are given a chance to end that suffering, and you refuse, it would be most selfish of you.”

Those words stilled her sobs. She glanced up at him, seeing only the frame of his eyes and upper brow through the gap. Her lower lip quivered and she sucked on it, tasting the grime caked there.

“Selfish?” she asked.

“Yes, my sweet niece. Selfish.”

She bowed her head, hatred flowing from deep within her. She had to keep from lashing out at her uncle, from reaching through the boards and scratching out his eyes with her chipped fingernails. And yet his words also told her exactly what she needed to do.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

“Do what?” Detrick asked.

She sat down and looked up at him, doing her best to act the little girl he surely thought she was. “I’ll promise to love him as best I know how.”

“Do you promise, Aullienna?”

She nodded. “Yes, Uncle, I promise.”

“Very good,” Detrick said, and he gave her a genuine smile. “I know how much of a sacrifice this is. I know how hard it will be for you. Simply stay strong, and remember your loved ones—”