Epic Of Palins 01 - Dagger Star (37 page)

Red shook with fear, and swallowed hard.

Josiah shifted, and she saw Elanore collapsed on the other side of the tent, starting to rouse. Her throat was dry, and it rasped as she tried to speak. “What—”

Josiah stood. “I drained her. She won’t be working magic anytime soon.” He reached down, and pulled Red to her feet.

Red let him pull her up, then stood there a moment, staring at her gloved hands.

She’d never look at her hands again, and would kill any who tried. Any who—

She reached down and picked up her dagger, looking at the bright, sharp blade.

She’d never look at her hands again, and would kill any who tried. Any who—

She looked up into Josiah’s eyes. Brown, with gold flecks, filled with—

She’d never look at her hands again, and would kill any who tried. Any who—

She could not kill him.

Her body quivered, every old instinct telling her to kill the man who had seen her hands. But the new instincts, the new feelings, the ones she felt for him and only for him, cried out against it.

She saw again his dead face in the bog, felt the grief that had overwhelmed her.

Josiah stared at her with concern, the goats at his feet.

Red shook her head, trying to clear it. “Battle—fighting—outside.”

Josiah nodded. “I’ll go look.” He stepped to the flap and lifted it. “A few Odium, from the look of it. I’ll just…” The flap fell as he left.

Red frowned, looking after him. Then she turned and focused on Elanore, who was struggling to stand. A threat, a threat to herself.

And Josiah.

Red moved to stand over her, her dagger in her hand. Elanore looked up, her face a tearful ruin, her hands clutching the fabric of her dress.

Red scowled at her. “And what do I do with you?”

Eleanore’s eyes sparkled with hate.

“Did you see my hand?” Red asked.

Elanore’s eyes went wide, and she stared at the blade before her. “No.”

Red relaxed slightly. “I believe you.”

Elanore snarled, “It doesn’t matter what you do with me. My magic will renew, and I’ll kill you then, and all you care for, until Josiah is mine again. I’ll be back, Chosen.” She spat on Red’s boots. “Put me in a dungeon, or a high keep, or a lonely prison cell. I’ll be back, and more powerful than ever.”

“No, you won’t.” Red said calmly.

Elanore tilted her head up and spat a curse.

With a swift slash of her dagger, Red sliced her throat.

Elanore collapsed, and Red stood over her, dagger in hand, and watched to make certain the bitch died.

RED ran outside and into Josiah’s arms as he tried to come back into the tent. “They’re still fighting,” he whispered. “I listened for a bit, and I think your men are close. Did you bind her?”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Red said hastily. She kept a hand on his arm as she stepped past him and looked around. She could hear the sounds of fighting coming from around the tents. She drew her sword, and made sure the bloody dagger was not in Josiah’s sight. “Let’s see if we can help.”

Josiah nodded, and followed as she moved between the tents. The goats trailed behind silently.

Riah was fighting an Odium, who’d managed to grasp his sword arm. Red ran forward, aiming for the neck of the creature, and Josiah followed right behind her. The Odium crumbled to dust, its magic drained.

Red checked her swing. “You know, that takes all the fun out of it.”

“Speak for yourself, Chosen.” Riah was breathing hard, with gashes on his arms that ran with blood.

“We’d better see to those wounds,” Josiah said.

“Later,” Red ordered. “Let’s find out—”

A sudden noise, and both she and Riah were on their guard, taking a protective stance beside Josiah.

Alad came around one of the tents, Onza at his side. He smiled when he saw them. “We finished the last of them. The Odium are destroyed, Chosen, and the living have fled.”

Red and Riah relaxed. “Our men?” Red asked.

“No losses, no major wounds.” Alad grinned. “We can loot—”

“Do it. Take whatever supplies you find.” Red sheathed her sword. “I’ve an army marching on Edenrich, and I must return. I’ve an hour’s hard ride to get back to a portal. You’re going to have to bring Josiah to me overland.”

They all nodded. “We’ll keep him safe, Chosen.” Alad said with a serious face.

Red took a step closer, and stared hard into his eyes. “Don’t bother coming within sight of me if you don’t.”

Alad swallowed hard, and jerked his head in a nod.

Red stepped back, satisfied. “Send someone for the horses. Don’t bother with the dead, but see to the wounded and get moving within the next hour. Don’t linger here.”

Riah jerked his head at Onza and they started off.

“What about Elanore?” Josiah asked. “We’ll need to—”

“No,” Red said. “She’s dead.”

“She’s what?” Josiah turned in shock.

Red ignored him. She turned to Alad. “Get moving as fast as you can. Take any extra horses you find. You’ll need them.”

Alad saluted her, and trotted off. Red couldn’t blame him for wanting out of the line of fire.

Josiah took a step toward the tent, but Red caught his arm. “Don’t,” she warned.

“What”—Josiah looked back at the tent—“did you do?”

Red brushed her hair back off her face. “What had to be done.”

“You killed her.” Josiah looked down into her eyes. “She was helpless, and you—”

“Helpless, my ass,” Red snorted. “She was a threat, one that I would not leave behind me. I wasn’t about to give her another chance to try to kill us.”

Riah came up with Beast. Red turned from Josiah’s angry face, and took the reins. “And don’t tell me that she was too weak to hurt us, or that she deserved a fair chance, or, Twelve help me, a trial of her peers.” Red pulled herself up into the saddle.

She looked down into Josiah’s stunned face. “I’ve an hour’s ride to get to a portal, goatherder.

We can debate the quality of my mercy later.” She leaned down and put her fingers under his chin, to claim his mouth with a kiss.

Josiah pulled his head away, taking a step back.

Red straightened and contemplated the man. Anger simmered in his brown eyes, the gold flecks almost glowing. She knew full well he was upset because he was, at the core, a good man. An honest man, of quiet strength and gentle compassion.

Everything she wasn’t.

“Chosen, we are ready.” Onza and two other men were there, mounted as well.

Red pulled Beast around. “Alad, get Lord Josiah on a horse. If he gives you any problems, chain him to the saddle.”

Alad’s eyes widened.

Red kicked Beast and rode off before Josiah could say another word.

THIRTY-THREE

VEMBAR watched with pride as the Chosen directed the establishment of a fortified camp for the night. Astride her black horse, bathed in the light of torches, clad in her armor and helmet, she made his heart swell with pride.

He hadn’t thought to live this long, and he prayed to the Lord of Light for his doubts. His prayers had been answered, all but one. To see her take the throne, and be crowned. And there was a chance, a chance that it would happen soon, Lord of Light be praised.

A cloaked warrior came up beside him. “You trained her well.”

“She’ll make a great queen.” Vembar gave the warrior a sidelong glance. “Someday.”

Red looked at him from the shadow of her hood. “One never knows, elder. Only time will tell.”

“True enough.” Vembar turned back. “Josiah?”

“Safe.”

Vembar arched an eyebrow. “Elanore?”

“Dead.”

“Well done, then.” Vembar shook his head. “But I still think you made the wrong choice, Red Gloves. And I told the same to your sword-sister.”

“Bethral?” Red asked sharply. “Why?”

“We’ve had a message,” Vembar said calmly. “From Blackhart. He sent for parley, and the Lady Bethral choose to go to the Black Keep.”

“If he doesn’t kill her, I will,” Red growled.

BETHRAL rode into the Keep of the Black Hills alone, as requested. She carried no weapons, only a simple white flag on a branch, also as requested. However, she and Bessie were wearing their armor. She wasn’t that stupid.

Red was sure to disagree when she heard about this little adventure.

Presenting an image of calmness was no problem as she was passed through the gate of the lower wall. The warriors of the Black Hills were respectful enough. The Odium that stood at their sides all had the same vacant expression. Those creatures made her queasy, truth be told. She ran through the methods of killing them as Bessie trotted along the winding road to the upper wall.

The road was a fairly long one, and if her eyes strayed over the defenses once in a while, taking note of their strength and nature, what harm in that, eh? She’d had hopes of rescuing Evelyn, but not much more than that. This fortress would be hard won, and the forces of the Chosen had other things to do. Still, Blackhart’s message had offered a truce and an exchange. Bethral had to explore the possibility. The Lady High Priestess had saved Ezren Silvertongue, and there was an obligation on Bethral’s part.

She arrived at the gate, and was admitted to the courtyard before the main doors. A guard stepped forward—a human, thankfully. He was clad in plain tunic and trous, with no weapon. “I am to watch your mount, Lady Warrior.”

Bethral nodded, and dismounted, keeping her peace flag. She handed the reins to the man, and then reached out an armored hand to place it on Bessie’s neck. “Ward.”

Bessie shook herself, and seemed to relax, as if about to take a nap. Larrisa had gone over all the tricks her husband had taught the horse, and this was one of them.

The doors to the castle opened, and Bethral strode forward, the peace flag in her hand like a sword.

The place was dark, as if built of shadows and black marble. There were Odium lining the corridor, apparently placed there on guard. In the confines of the hall they had a definite odor about them. Bethral kept her face blank, but tried not to breathe too deeply.

The darkness stretched on, lit only by torches placed far apart. Bethral wasn’t certain, but it seemed to her that her armor was almost glowing in the dark shadows of the place.

The doors ahead opened by themselves, revealing a throne room filled with torch light. Bethral strode forward at the same pace, not stopping until she stood before the throne.

To her relief, Evelyn was seated on the throne, her hands and feet chained together, looking small and vulnerable. Her eyes opened wide when she saw Bethral, then narrowed in concern.

There were some stains on her robes, especially at the knees, but Bethral couldn’t see any injury.

Then again, she knew damn well that some of the worst hurts can’t necessarily be seen.

Two robed and hooded figures stood just behind the throne where Evelyn sat. But Bethral focused on the man standing at the bottom of the dais, one foot up a step, dressed all in black. A handsome bastard, that was certain, with black hair and eyes. His face was pale, as if he’d not seen the sun for quite some time.

He arched an eyebrow, well aware of her scrutiny. “Lady Bethral, I assume.”

“Blackhart,” Bethral replied. “You asked for a parley.”

“I did.” Blackhart gestured to the throne. “You see the Lady High Priestess, as promised.”

Bethral looked at Evelyn. “Lady High Priestess, are you well?”

Evelyn sighed, and shrugged. She pointed to her ear, and shook her head.

“A precaution, nothing more.” Blackhart gestured toward where the robed figures stood. “She can’t hear you, nor can she be heard. She’s well, I assure you.”

“I’d like to hear that from her,” Bethral said pointedly.

Blackhart smiled. “I am certain you would, but the Lady High Priestess’s skills are highly spoken of, and while the chains about her wrists suppress magic, I’d prefer she didn’t speak.”

Bethral gave him a mild glance. “Not a good beginning to a parley, Lord.”

Blackhart smiled charmingly. “Then let me draw your attention elsewhere.” His smile disappeared. “We’ve learned that Lady Elanore is dead, slain at the hands of the Chosen.”

That was interesting news. Not wanting to acknowledge her ignorance, Bethral just shrugged.

Blackhart’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know of the Odium?”

“How to kill them,” Bethral said promptly.

Blackhart nodded. “Then what would you say if I told you that Elanore created the Odium that guard this place?”

Bethral shrugged again.

“And the magic that creates them dissipates upon the caster’s death.”

Bethral raised an eyebrow, and looked around the room. “Then she’s not dead.”

“She is dead.” Blackhart stepped off the dais, and walked closer to Bethral. His voice dropped to a bare whisper. “They should be so much dust on the floor. And while they are obeying me and my warriors, I do not know who really controls them.”

“What do you ask of me?” Bethral said softly.

“I will disband the Black Keep’s army, provided my men go free with their armor and weapons and gear.” Blackhart looked grim. “They’ve kith and kin in these hills, and they will need every piece of it to survive.”

He turned his head to stare at Bethral. “I will surrender the Keep to you, although little good it will do you. I cannot clear it of the Odium within. I’ve already tried. I can only release my men, and see your Priestess to you safely.”

“Why?” Bethral asked, more for time to consider than anything else.

“A keep full of undead that I can’t control, a High Baroness dead, your army at the borders, and my people caught between.” Blackhart arched an eyebrow. “I’d have thought my reasons fairly obvious.”

“Very well,” Bethral agreed. “But you must be held accountable for your crimes against Palins, Lord Blackhart. I will require you to surrender yourself to me. They may go free. You may not.”

“Done.” Blackhart handed her a set of keys. “You may free her.”

He gestured toward the robed figures, and they retreated as Bethral advanced. Evelyn was shaking her head, as if to clear it of the spell effects, as Bethral approached.

“Are you well?” Bethral unlocked the wrist chains first. Odd to see that the Priestess still wore her star sapphire ring. Prisoners didn’t normally keep jewelry for long.