Parasite Soul (26 page)

Simon rose creakily, like a man more than twice his age, and
followed Niu outside. Hezben was already a leafy shadow amongst the
trees, walking fast. Oswald struggled to keep up with him, beckoning
toward Sasha with a meaty hand. Simon and Niu joined the
procession. The forsaken little ghost village disappeared behind them.
Simon wondered if humans would ever lay eyes on it again.

The leshy was correct: climbing to the crown of the next hill
afforded the group their first view of the town of Sallinger. It was
larger than Simon expected, and more modern, crowding the banks of a lazily
winding river and flanked by a peaceful patchwork of farmland. The road
connecting it with the rest of Cannevish and to the nearby Verivista border
slavishly followed every curve of the river, with only one bridge uniting the
separate halves of the town. Simon’s old persona would have found the
tableau picturesque and calming, and a part of new Simon still yearned to be
part of it.

“There it is,” Hezben grated unceremoniously. “You will be on
your way now, and you will not return.”

“I’m going to take them right down, Hez,” Oswald said placidly.

The leshy rounded on him. “I don’t think the humans need a
guide anymore, Oswald. The town is plain to see.”

“Only I promised to show them the paths into the mountains,” the
giant said firmly.

Hezben threw his skinny arms into the air, a gesture of exasperation
and defeat. “I’m not coming with you.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.” Simon detected a touch of asperity
in Oswald’s voice.

“You won’t have the protection of the forest.”

“I’m a big lad.”

“The humans won’t welcome a giant into their midst.”

“I suppose they won’t. But they won’t bother me, either,”
Oswald shrugged.

“Fine.” Hezben sounded angry now.

“It’s settled, then.”

“I suppose it is.”

Simon and Niu stood awkwardly by with eyes averted as the air
chilled. Sasha watched the bickering pair with undisguised curiosity.

With another dramatic gesture, Hezben stalked off, swallowed by the
forest. Ferns and grasses recoiled from his wrath as he passed.
Oswald shrugged moodily.

“Best be off then, eh?” he asked with a reasonable facsimile of good
cheer. With that, he started rapidly downhill, Sasha drifting in his
wake. Niu and Simon exchanged glances and hurried to catch up.

The trees began to thin. By the time they reached the foot of
the hill, woodland abruptly gave way to farmland. Simon hopped over a low
stone wall, trespassing in yet another farmer’s field on his way to the river
and the road. Hopefully the farmer would fail to notice them or choose to
ignore their passage, as Sasha’s black eyes were ravenous now.

They passed unmolested and turned onto the heavily-rutted
road. Fellow travelers stared hard at Oswald, whom, if nothing else,
distracted attention from the undead girl and the two fugitives. Niu had
pulled her hood up, but Simon didn’t make any attempt at disguise. If he
looked as ragged as he felt, he doubted anyone would recognize him. More
likely they’d take him for a beggar and shun him.

“Sallinger is welcoming enough to strangers,” Oswald explained as
they approached an unmanned gate. “Being near the border and all, they’re
a bit more receptive to foreigners than some places. I drop by every
decade or so for precisely that reason. It’s a peaceful town. That
said, there is a garrison of soldiers stationed here, so it would pay to keep a
low profile.”

Simon muttered understanding.

“If there are any supplies you need for the paths ahead, now is the
time to buy them.”

“No money,” Simon grunted. “But I’m sure Niu has a solution
for that.”

“I have done what I have had to, to keep us alive.” Niu hadn’t
failed to notice the mild condemnation in Simon’s tone. Simon gritted his
teeth. Her precise pattern of speech seemed less and less charming the
longer he had to endure it. Or was that the heartstopper nudging him
toward anger again?

Keep calm
, he told himself.
Keep
your mood in check. You have to stay in control
.

“Well do what you have to, but don’t involve me,” Oswald said.
“It may be that I have occasion to return here in the future, and I’d rather it
wasn’t in chains.” He threw Sasha a furtive glance; she returned his gaze
expressionlessly.

The four of them passed through the gate. Sitting cross-legged
in the shadow of the arch, a guard, previously unseen, glanced up from his game
of solitaire and nodded noncommittally. Simon returned the gesture with
similar ambivalence. He glanced back at the hilltop from which they’d so
recently descended, certain that Hezben was watching them even now from the
shelter of the forest. Or more precisely, watching
Oswald
.
Perhaps the same thought crossed the giant’s mind, as he, too, paused to look
back before heaving an enormous sigh and stumping into Sallinger.

Simon’s impressions were of a town both modern and quaint.
Many of the dwellings were built in a contemporary style, but modestly, so that
they projected tranquil antiquity. No one appeared to be making any great
effort out-do their neighbors; the only large buildings visible were administrative,
save of course for the ubiquitous Church of Vanyon. The gate opened onto
a spacious square, where benches and gazebos replaced the expected vendor’s
stalls. A pool large and long enough to support both a fountain and a
small ornamental bridge split the park nearly in two. Glimmers of the
river were visible between the surrounding buildings. Unlike similar
squares in towns Simon had visited, this was a place of relaxation, not
commerce. The only merchants he saw manned small booths squeezed into the
alleyways which snaked away from the central plaza, having set up shop as close
as they could without defying what Simon took to be a local law.

Hezben had allowed his visitors to partake of some of the fruits of
his forest, enough to keep them alive at least, but Simon was still
hungry. His appetite did not, however, manage to distract him from a
sudden wave of unease as he swept his surroundings with mistrustful eyes.
A scattering of people wandered the streets, clad in the traditional, modest
tunics that he would have expected. Several folk had gathered in groups
to chatter about the day’s events. A pair of youths chased a distraught
duck which had apparently forgotten its flight capabilities. And yet,
something about this comfortingly familiar scene didn’t sit right with
Simon. He couldn’t put his finger on what was bothering him, but he was
justified in his apprehension when several people took on looks of alarm and
scurried away, while others began to stare with unabashed and sinister
curiosity. The alley merchants didn’t call out to them. People
leaned together to whisper to their neighbors.
Almost as if…

“They know who we are,” he said. Even to his own ears, his
voice sounded resigned, weary. No panic. Just a dull, oppressive
sense of inevitability. The barked command which followed was no
surprise.

“Halt, in the name of the king!”

Guardsmen materialized as though from the ether, spilling from
alleyways, stepping out from shadowed alcoves, ringing them. Simon spun
in a tight circle, but there were dozens of men, too many for fight or flight
to be viable options. If his curse kicked in, it would kill his friends
also, so he had to choke his fear down. Would Sasha choose to attack the
soldiers? Despite the fact that she would surely be overwhelmed by their
superior number, Simon found himself hoping so. He hated himself for that
hope, but she seemed to him to be their only chance of escape.

Sasha, however, seemed content to simply watch the proceedings, head
slightly cocked. The gate guard, having abandoned his cards, was now on
his feet and approached them with wary smugness.

“Not too bright, you lot,” he commented. “’Course, villains
like yourselves rarely are. Take ‘em to holding. Inform the
general.”

Oswald’s frame slumped and sagged. Simon had no doubt that the
giant could deal some serious damage if he chose, but despite his wild tales of
hydra wrangling, he didn’t impress Simon as a fighter. He muttered
something despondently under his breath and scratched at his horns. Niu
performed a hand gesture that could have meant anything, but Simon chose to
interpret it as a signal of defeat. His companions had come to the same
conclusion that he had; they could not fight the guards without loss.
Although they might have mounted a resistance under regular circumstances, they
couldn’t take the chance that Simon would get worked up and unleash his curse.

Simon Dragonslayer
, he thought bitterly
as the soldiers closed in, disarming them
. Less legendary hero than total
liability
.

The speculative stares of Sallingers’ citizens – a mocking parody of
the adulation of which he’d dreamed when first he’d slain the dragon – scalded
the back of his skull as, his wrists encircled by iron manacles, he was marched
off down the street at sword point.

“And these orders, I presume, come directly from the lips of my
liege?” General Gharletto scratched his ragged beard and studied Tiera
shrewdly.

The princess sighed with all the impatience she could muster, which
was significant. She couldn’t draw her gaze from his fingernails, which
were cracked, yellow, and filthy. Standing in the same room as this man
made her feel filthy. She could practically hear the fleas rustling about
in his beard. “I’ve already told you. My father is extremely
ill. He could not be here in person.”

“Well, that’s just it, you see,
princess
.” Gharletto stressed
the final word with just the slightest hint of a sneer. He gestured about
the sparse office he’d appropriated from Sallinger’s local captain. “The
king, your father, is neither in the habit of delivering his orders in person
nor of sending his daughter to do the honors. This is all very
unusual.” He waved Tiera toward the seat behind the desk, which she
stiffly declined on the ground that it was worn, scuffed, and frankly,
insultingly beneath her person. “Furthermore, when the object of your
visit is so…” His teeth bared in a disconcerting grin. “…transparent, I wonder
whether my duty isn’t to pack you up and ship you back to your father as soon
as possible. My lady,” he added unconvincingly.

Tiera stamped a blistered foot. Several days of wearing riding
boots had taken their toll. “General Gharletto,” she snapped, layering
her voice with all the considerable frost she could muster, “I could have your head
for your insolence! In fact, I am inclined to report your words to my
father, directly as you have conveyed them. I’d wager he would not be
understanding.”

“You’d lose that wager.” Gharletto cracked his neck unconcernedly.
Even more infuriatingly, he presented his back to Tiera and paced across
the office to the third-story window, which overlooked the picturesque town of
Sallinger. “Your father and I have an understanding which predates your
time in this world, princess.”

“So I have seen, time and again. But what baffles me is
this: how could my father – the
king of Cannevish
– have any sort
of understanding with such a
common
man?” Tiera was unable to prevent
the rising heat in her voice.

“How can that surprise you?” The General leaned on the windowsill,
tempting Tiera to rush forward and give him a shove. “I’ll give you just
one example, a pertinent one. You wouldn’t be alive today without
me. Your father is a man of honor. He does not forget his debts.”

Tiera’s eyes narrowed. “What nonsense is this?”

Gharletto laughed. “Such gratitude from such a well brought-up
young lady! Has your father never told you, then? I suppose he
prefers to sweep the family baggage beneath the carpet. Your mother began
to sicken before even you were born. She was traveling to a monastery for
treatment, with myself as her escort, when she went into labor. She would
certainly have died there on the roadside, and you with her, had she been at
the mercy of her useless, panicky servants. It was
I
who saved your
life in the aftermath of a difficult childbirth, and hers incidentally,
although as you are
certainly
aware that came to naught. Perhaps
the day I delivered such an ungrateful little terror safely to her father was a
day to be rued. But the king did not see it that way.”

Flustered –
did everybody know of my transgressions except me? -
Tiera masked her agitation and confusion with a sneer. “I
see. So you were my
midwife
, then.”

“Indeed.” Gharletto turned back to her, dark-eyed and grinning
unpleasantly. His gaze wandered insolently up and down her form. “And may
I say, you have blossomed through the years, physically, if not in
character.”

“How dare you-“ Tiera began, red with mounting anger, but the
captain’s hand snapped up sharply and she quietened.

“Your father, you see, takes his obligations seriously,” Gharletto
continued, also angry. He pounded one fist into the palm of the other
emphatically. “If not for my actions, he would have no daughter. If
not for my silence, he would endure grave scandal. In return for these
acts of service, and many prior, he allows me a free hand in planning and
coordinating my fulfillment of his orders. This is why I find it strange,
to say the least, that he would send an avatar of his debt to me to give me instruction.”

“You will address me with
respect
!” Spittle flew from Tiera’s
lips as she hissed that final word, but she was too incensed to care. She
thought her veins might burst with fury.

As she glared venom at the General, the smug smirk slid from his
lips and was replaced with something akin to fear.
That’s better
,
Tiera thought savagely, parting her lips to press her unexpected
advantage. Instead, she gaped with astonishment as the man groped at his
chest, wild-eyed, and began to slide, gasping, down the wall.

“Gharletto!” she snapped as the old soldier crumpled on the floor,
eyes bugging and lips flapping uselessly, like a fish. He gestured weakly
with one hand. A plea for help? Indecisive, she hesitated. On
the one hand, Gharletto might be useful alive, if she could leash him. On
the other, she was enjoying watching him struggle; besides, she had no idea
what was happening to him or how she could assist, and she certainly wasn’t
going to touch him.

The General made a final attempt to solicit assistance, but could
only wheeze. Stark panic flooded his eyes. His fingers scraped
along the stone floor, filthy nails snapping, and his feet began to drum
sharply. Moments later, he was dead.

Breathing heavily, Tiera crouched beside his corpse, confused.
The same force which had toppled her father had ended Gharletto, and she
couldn’t imagine why. Was some guardian spirit looking out for her?
Was this somehow Merequio’s doing? If so, her vampiric brother appeared
to have no knowledge of it. Had the power triggered when the two of them
had come into contact with one another? Staring thoughtfully into
Gharletto’s lifeless eyes, Tiera wracked her brains for some solution.
Then it struck her like Lesquann’s lightning.

It only happens when I’m upset or angry
.

Straightening, Tiera considered her theory from all angles.
The pieces seemed to fit. She’d awoken from wrathful dreams to find
Farrow and her guards dead; her anger had slain her father; and now her mood
had struck Gharletto down. Her fury killed.

As though I was some sort of goddess of rage
.

Heart hammering with excitement, Tiera strode to the door and out
into the street. Merequio waited nearby, scuffing the cobbles with one
heel as he leaned on an old stone wall, arms folded. Better yet, a young
guardsman stood at the door, pale and panting, and it was to this youth that
the princess turned her attention.

“Do you feel unwell, guardsman?” she inquired.

The youth stared at his boots. “It is nothing, my lady.
It is passing.”

“Your heart perhaps?”

“I cannot say, my lady. Some pain in my chest. It will
not affect my performance, your highness.”

Tiera shivered with anticipation. Killing like this wasn’t as
stimulating as the physical way she and her brother had murdered that
innkeeper’s daughter, but it held its own pleasures. “Make me angry,
guardsman.”

Certain he’d misheard, the youth dared to meet her eyes, if only for
a second. “My… my lady?”

“Make me angry.” Tiera repeated impatiently. She didn’t care
that her own guard escort were looking on with ill-disguised curiosity.
None of them could harm her; if they got any ideas, her very temper could drop
them in their tracks. “That’s an order.”

Flustered, the young guard looked around for nonexistent help as
Merequio looked on curiously. “I… I would not dare.”

“You would not dare obey a direct order from your
princess
?”
Tiera was beginning to feel irritable already, with or without the youth’s
cooperation.

“I would not know how displease you without offending you, princess.”
The guardsman shuffled uncomfortably. A sudden thought visibly struck
him. “Perhaps you would find the… sentiment… you are looking for by
interviewing the prisoner?”

“Prisoner?” Tiera frowned. “What are you babbling about?”

“The peasant, my lady. We took him this morning. I
thought he was whom you’d traveled here to… interview.”

Tiera’s eyes flew wide. “Where? Where is he being kept,
soldier?” She could hardly keep herself from reaching out and shaking the
youth. In her rush of discovery, she’d nearly forgotten about Simon, her
flight from Cannevish, all of her problems.

“He and his companions are being held in Sallinger’s prisons.”

Tiera’s heart burned with excitement, but her voice retained its
chill. “Indeed. Carry on soldier. General Gharletto has intimated
that he is absolutely not to be disturbed until further notice.”

“Very good, my lady.” The youth exhaled audibly as she swept
past him, deeply relieved by her departure. Tiera wasn’t concerned that
he might disobey her instructions; if Gharletto’s corpse was discovered, she
had no doubt that between her newfound abilities and her brother’s supernatural
blood thirst, she could make short work of any arresting force.

Tiera joined Merequio and her handpicked guards by the horses.

“The local prison,” she said coolly, betraying no outward
emotion. Merequio’s lips curled within the deep shadows of his hood but
he said nothing. “We will be making a quick stop there before we press
on.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Lieutenant Thornton acquiesced.

“Thank you, Thornton.” Tiera brushed the man’s cheek with her
fingertips. Thornton was what she thought of as a good solider:
handsome, capable, and unquestioningly obedient. Certainly, Tiera’s actions
since she’d left Vingate had provoked suspicion in the man, but he kept it
buried. He certainly anticipated a commendation or promotion. The
poor fool hardly suspected that he would likely wind up a meal for Merequio –
or, if by some miracle he returned intact to Vingate, that he would surely be hanged
for aiding and abetting regicide, no matter how unknowingly.

At her touch, Thornton straightened perceptibly. He issued
some commands to his men, one of whom offered his services as a human stepping
stool as Tiera mounted her nickering, uneasy steed. Perhaps the animal
sensed her power, or her mood. Either way, the beast was agitated, which
amused Tiera, as it dared not resist her.

Even creatures of instinct fear me now
,
Tiera thought with some satisfaction, as a new fantasy – evolving to include her
powerful new abilities - began to formulate in her mind
. If I return
to Cannevish, it will be as an unstoppable force with an army at my back, and
no one will be able to stand before me. Us,
she amended with an
affectionate glance at her brother, mounted silently beside her. He
smirked back at her, as though guessing her intentions.
But first,
that insolent peasant. At last he will learn what it means to spurn a
princess
.

Navigating Sallinger’s quaint cobbled streets at an eager pace, she
surveyed this rustic outpost of a kingdom she would one day own – and not by
marriage. She would create her own traditions. She would send that
foppish outlander Anton Stallix packing, with or without his head, then raze
his kingdom to the ground. Queen Tiera Minus would be nobody’s pawn.