Kinshield's Redemption (Book 4) (30 page)

Kaoque wrinkled his brow and sat, chewing on his thumbnail or a moment. “Forgive me. I must have used the wrong word. Virgin means a woman bearing her first child, yes?”

Feanna’s heart leapt into her throat. It must have been fate that brought him here to her.
The Mark of Zuhlys Fahn is the greatest honor a woman can receive.
“No,” she said, her voice coming out in a near whisper. “That’s not what virgin means. We don’t have a word for a woman in her first pregnancy.”

“Oh,” he said. “Forgive the confusion. I will correct our texts for this error as well.”

Excitement vibrated through her body from her toes to the top of her head. She smiled and placed a trembling hand on his forearm. “I’m pregnant with my first child—a prince who’ll be Thendylath’s next king.”

Kaoque leapt to his feet and took a step back. His face was stretched so taut, it nearly snapped in on itself. “You don’t mean to offer yourself, Your Majesty.”

“Indeed I do, Kaoque Ewhirk. My son will be king to my people, High Spirit Emissary to yours.” And she would receive the Cyprindians’ highest honor for herself, High Spirit Consort. Surely becoming a god’s wife would give her higher standing over Gavin, a mere king. He could never again tell her what to do. “What better way to unite our people in peace?”

Kaoque stared at her in disbelief for a moment. “There is none better, but shouldn’t you discuss the matter with the king first?”

“The king isn’t here,” Feanna said, adjusting her skirt over her lap. “I make decisions when he’s away. Now, what token have you brought in exchange?”

Kaoque pressed his palms together and bowed. “I’ve brought you a most marvelous gift, Your Majesty. The Lord Ruler picked it out himself.” He dug into his satchel and pulled out a bundle of burgundy colored cloth with a ribbon tied around it. He presented it with a flourish.

She clapped her hands together in delight. “How lovely!” Taking it, she untied the ribbon and let it fall to the floor, then pulled open the cloth wrapping. Inside was a wooden hoop with string woven around it to form what looked like a spider’s web. A gemstone was suspended in the center, tied in place by a leather setting. “What is this?” she asked, not bothering to mask her disappointment.

“Why, it’s a Soul Ward. My people believe they prevent disease, curses, and nightmares. Our Lord Orator enchanted this one with a magic spell to also enhance fertility so that you and your husband will be blessed with many sons. It is a most prestigious gift.”

What a useless trinket. She tossed it aside. “What else do you have to offer?”

Kaoque looked lost. “The Lord Ruler gave me only that, Your Majesty.”

She stood, outraged. They asked for a pregnant woman to wed to their god, and all they were offering was a symbol of their superstitious nonsense? “This? This is an insult. Your Lord Ruler demands a woman and her unborn child, and all he offers is a bit of wood and some string?”

“Please accept my humble apology, Your Majesty. We meant no offense. If there is something in particular you would like, I will procure it for you.”

She pursed her lips and eyed Tokpah up and down. If he shared her bed while Gavin was away, she wouldn’t mind. “My husband has yet to assign me a permanent champion. I would accept Tokpah.”

Kaoque turned to Tokpah with surprise. “She wants you as her champion. I cannot speak for you.”

One side of Tokpah’s mouth quivered as if towards a smile. His only response was a slow blink.

“He declines, Your Majesty. Have you another desire?”

“I thought he didn’t understand our language.”

“He does not,” Kaoque said. “I possess a magical talent for tongues, however. I can understand and be understood regardless of the language I am speaking or the language I hear.”

That must have been the same talent Gavin had. “Because I’m a patient queen, I’ll give you a day to consider a token that’s more suitable. Should you fail to offer something, I’ll be forced to withdraw my offer and send you home with nothing. We both know what will happen then.”

Neither had to say it, but she was sure they both thought it.

War.

Chapter 38

The gaol was dark and suffocating. Gavin took a minute to let his eyes adjust and to get used to the stench of stale air before following the warden down the gloomy corridor to the end. “I need to use the cell next to Hennah’s,” he said.

“Yes, Sire. I’ll move Anya down the row, and you can use hers.”

Gavin waited while his corrupted guard was moved to another cell. She fought and cursed like an angry cat, and the guards had to beat her nearly unconscious with batons to get her into the other cell. He watched impassionately, knowing he should’ve been excited about the prospect of getting his battlers back but unable to summon the enthusiasm. Without Daia’s mystical conduit, it would be a challenge. Without her support and presence, it would be a chore. His entire life would be a chore, and the prospect of ruling as king without Daia by his side made his entire body ache.

If he never got her ring back, he’d have no way to connect to her from other realms if ever he had the need to travel. She’d
have to
come with him.

No, she was right. In the kho realms, she’d be in danger. The yellow realm was the mildest of the three kho realms, and they’d nearly killed her. She wouldn’t stand a chance in the orange and red realms.

Unless he somehow disguised or hid the orange flame that was her conduit. If no one knew she had it, she’d be just another battler. The focus would be on him, and she could do her job as his champion while also providing strength to his magic as the conduit. There was no other option.

The warden and three guards were staring at him, waiting.

“King Gavin?” Cirang asked.

“Yeh. I’m ready.” He took and released a deep breath to help shift his thoughts to the present. “The man I’m about to summon has some magic, so call out if he’s hurting you. I don’t want to kill him if I don’t have to, but if the rune works right, he’ll be under my command.”

“All the same,” Daia said, “I’d rather take precautions. Guards, be ready to lock him in the cell.”

After withdrawing the summoning rune, Gavin handed his knapsack to Cirang and drew Aldras Gar. He took a wide stance in the doorway of the empty cell, ready to step aside so the guards could slam the door shut. With the rune clutched in his right hand and his eyes closed, he focused his mystic vision through his gems. His thoughts cleared, and his breathing slowed. He felt calm and connected to the world and all its seven realms. With one more deep breath, he thought
Baron Hexx Gnorglsht,
and whispered, “Whemorard.”

A light flashed, splitting the air. It widened by degrees, and in its center was the deepest, most intense blackness Gavin had ever seen. A foot, black as ebony, stepped out of the hole into the real world, followed by a clawed hand and a triangular head with glittering eyes.

Gavin’s heart climbed up his throat. What the hell had he done?

Cirang screamed. The smell of urine and decaying flesh filled the air.

“Oh, my lord!” one of the guards shouted. He made the gesture of subservience to Asti-nayas.

“What the hell is that thing?” another asked.

Ritol, the monster that had tried to kill King Arek and had nearly killed Gavin.

“By Yrys,” Daia breathed. She grabbed Gavin and pulled him back, putting herself in front of him. The door slammed shut, clanging into its frame. The warden and one guard braced their backs against it while another fumbled with the keys, trying frantically to lock the door while the others yelled at him to hurry.

“How can that be?” Gavin asked under his breath. He’d thought the Baron’s name. He’d done the summoning properly.

“Hurry!” Cirang cried. “Get the king to safety.”

Gavin knew he should’ve been terrified. He should’ve pissed himself like Cirang had, but something was different this time. He felt only confusion, not fear. Aldras Gar was silent, its gems dark. It dawned on him then that he was the demon’s summoner. That had to be why Aldras Gar wasn’t warning him of danger. He looked down at the rune in his hand. It must have been only for summoning Ritol. He’d assumed it was for summoning anyone across the boundaries of the realms. Nothing he’d seen or read had warned him this would happen. “Damn it,” he spat. “Guardians, is this rune only for summoning Ritol?”

“No, the rune isn’t specific to this creature,” the Guardians said, appearing beside him. “It is, however, locked on the one called Ritol. You must unlock it to summon another being.”

Hands grasped at his arms. Voices cried in his ears. The warden took his arm. “My liege, we must hurry. It could escape at any moment.”

Prisoners down the corridor complained about the smell and demanded to know what was happening.

“Stop.” Gavin shrugged off the warden’s grip. He grasped Cirang’s wrist and looked into her eyes, now wild with fear. “Cirang, listen to me. All of you, listen. I’ve summoned it. I control it. The demon’s no danger to us.”

Everyone leaped back when its shiny, black head and glittering eye appeared in the window of the cell door. “I know you,” Ritol said. Its voice was like three voices in one, each as sharp and jagged as the next, ripping through Gavin’s head like talons. Two of the guards clutched their ears, grimacing. “You feared me once.”

“But not anymore,” Gavin said. “You must do as I say.”

It bowed its head slightly. “You’re my summoner. I’m bound to you here, but come to my realm, and I’ll drink your zhi essence and bathe in your blood.”

“Sure you will, just like last time.” He wrinkled his nose. “Damn, you stink to hell. Now how do I get rid of it?”

The Guardians shimmered momentarily. “You simply command it to return to its realm.”

He raised one eyebrow. They’d been wrong before and cost three men their lives. “How do you know?”

“We returned to the past and witnessed your ancestor summon and release a being like this one.”

“My ancestor?” Gavin gaped at them. “No, you got it wrong. I’m descended from Ronor Kinshield, a champion, a battler. He never summoned anything.”

“And he was descended from a Beresfard king, Emtor.”

Gavin barked a laugh. It sounded ludicrous, and yet something in the deepest reaches of his most ancient memories, memories belonging to Ronor himself, created an itch in his mind. “Doubtful,” he said, not wanting to believe it could be true.

“King Arek knew this. It’s why he made you take the vow—so that he could return the crown to the rightful family upon his death.”

“How do you know that?”

“We’re untethered by time or realm, Emtor. Like you, we travel. We observe. We learn. We don’t know everything—for, when traveling into the past, we can only observe and listen—but if you have a question, such as how to dismiss the being known as Ritol, we can find answers in the time it takes you to blink. We wish to be helpful to you.”

Beresfard kings, vows, vanquished demons returned. Gavin grabbed a fistful of his hair, wishing he could pull his brain out and give it a rest. After a moment to gather himself, he straightened and slid Aldras Gar back into its scabbard. He looked into Ritol’s eye, disgusted by the malicious glee he saw there. “Go on. Go back to your own realm.”

Behind the demon, a light flashed once again. The hungry eyes moved backwards and faded into the blackness. The opening snapped shut, leaving behind only Ritol’s foul stench.

The warden took a hesitant step forward and peered into the cell. “It’s gone.”

Cirang fell to her knees and began to sob, covering her face with her hands.

“It’ll take weeks to get rid of that smell,” someone said.

A heavy silence blanketed the gaol. So that was it. The only plan Gavin had for fixing Feanna and the others was a complete failure. Not only did he not have a summoning rune that was useful, he would need a new one for every person who’d been corrupted by the water—dozens. Perhaps hundreds. Unless Carthis was willing to teach him how to carve the most dangerous rune that ever existed, there was no hope for any of them to return to their normal lives. There was no hope for his tiny son to be born to a mother who loved him.

Gavin stalked back up the corridor, setting his mind on one thing: getting stumbling drunk. With enough ale, he could forget about his troubles for a time.

Chapter 39