The Kinshield Legacy (9 page)

“I intend to claim the Blood-stone. Where’s it written that one must solve the runes in order to rule?”

“What do you want from the Sisterhood?” Lilalian asked.

“Merely your support and assistance. First, I need to know who’s solving the runes so I can forge a relationship with him. He, with his understanding of the Runes of Carthis, and I, with my god-given directive, will journey together to the cave and take back our country from the monsters and the chaos. Then, once I have the King’s Blood-stone, I’ll need your soldiers to defend my right to rule.”

“What if he refuses to give you the gem?” Aminda asked.

“The directive from Asti-nayas was clear; I am to rule Thendylath. I know what I must do.”

“Kill him when he solves the last rune?” she snapped.

“I see you are not one for polite innuendo. Very well, then. Might is right,” Brodas said. “If he’s strong enough to kill me first, then perhaps he’s truly deserving of the throne and Thendylath’s future would be in capable hands. However, unless he has an army stronger than yours...” He shrugged with palms up.

“What makes you think we’ll agree to this-- this outrageous alliance?”

Brodas put his index fingertips together at his lips and smiled behind them in his confidence. “Because we are alike, you and I. Self-preservation is our primary instinct. First we’ll fight to save ourselves and those closest to us. Then we’ll fight for what we believe in. I believe in my right to rule this country, and you believe the guild you have worked so hard to build is worth preserving.”

“What will the Sisterhood get in return?” Lilalian asked.

Aminda shot her a look of such disbelief it was comical. Brodas held back a chuckle, but Warrick snorted a short laugh.

“When I am king, the Viragon Sisterhood will be the royal guard.” He paused to let them consider the significance of his words. “You’ll be my most trusted protectors, and be given reign to expand your ranks and build an army as you see fit with the financial backing of the crown.”

Despite her crossed arms and rigid countenance, Aminda’s eyebrow jerked in response. “And if we don’t agree?”

Brodas shrugged. “I will remember that you turned your back on me when I needed you. My favor will fall to another. An all-male guard, most likely. Opportunities for women will suffer for it, and I will see to it that the Viragon Sisterhood fades to obscurity.”

The two women sat silently. Aminda glared hard at Brodas, while Lilalian watched her guild mistress, her brows raised as though urging her toward acquiescence.

“I will be king,” Brodas assured them. “You can join with me now and reap the rewards, or try to oppose me and fail.” When Aminda said nothing, Brodas added, “You need not give me your answer immediately. Take a few days to consider, if you wish.”

“There’s no need for further consideration,” Aminda said, finally. “I’ll not have our guild—”

“Aminda,” Lilalian said quietly, placing a hand on the guild mistress’s arm, “may I speak with you privately for a moment?”

“Warrick, would you see the ladies to the music room? When you return, I will have the servant serve brandy as a toast.” Brodas stood when they rose.

Brodas waited patiently for them to return. He was unconcerned; if they left this evening after declining the alliance, they would be back the following day with a change of heart. The amulets guaranteed it.

Warrick returned to the dining room and sat back down. “What do you think they’ll say?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Brodas replied, swirling the wine in his glass.

“What? I thought you said we need their help.”

“We do. But, Warrick, you forget that I always get what I want. One way or another.”

Warrick grinned and leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t forget. I’m just eager to see how you accomplish it.”

The dining room door opened and the two women entered with Aminda leading. Brodas and Warrick stood. Aminda went directly to the corner where they had left their swords and picked them up, handing one to Lilalian. “We’ve decided that an alliance with you is not in line with the goals and philosophies of our guild.” Aminda held her head high and made direct eye contact with Brodas while Lilalian busied herself by strapping her sword to her waist. “We thank you for the meal.”

“I am disappointed,” Brodas said. He clasped his hands together in front of him. Warrick came around the table to flank the two women.

Aminda unhooked the necklace and handed it to Brodas. “I wouldn’t feel right accepting your gift under the circumstances.”

He inclined his head. “I understand.”

Aminda looked at Lilalian and raised her brows. The blonde captain touched her hand to the amulet before she reached slowly to unfasten the clasp.

Brodas stopped her with a gentle hand on her forearm. “Why don’t you keep it, Lilalian? It was a gift, given in the spirit of friendship without expectations.”

“No,” Aminda said, as though cautioning a child. She cleared her throat. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“First, may I ask why both of you decided to reject our proposal?” Brodas needed to buy time. He sensed that Lilalian did not agree with Aminda on the matter.

Aminda cleared her throat again. “The throne belongs to the man or woman who earns it by solving the runes. It is he, or she, we will supp-- support.” Her voice broke apart toward the end of her sentence, and she put her fist to her mouth and coughed.

Brodas handed her a glass of water, which she accepted and drank.

“We did not agree to reject your proposal,” Lilalian said. “Aminda’s the guild mistress and it’s her right to make or reject policies and agreements. She does not need my consent, but she has my loyalty.”

Aminda began to speak, but before she could utter a word, fell into a fit of coughing.

“My dear, are you all right?” Brodas wrinkled his brow in a display of concern.

Aminda’s face turned red as she struggled to breathe between coughs. She hunched over, coughing violently.

“You’re a cleric,” Lilalian said, placing a hand on Aminda’s back and patting gently. “Can’t you do something?” She pulled Aminda’s hair back, holding it out of her face as the guild mistress gasped and choked.

“Yes, I can. But doing so wouldn’t be in line with my beliefs and philosophies. You see, I don’t help my enemies.”

Lilalian shot him a startled look.

Aminda dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach. Blood sprayed from her mouth with a hard cough, spattering droplets onto the white marble floor. With every breath her lungs rattled. With every cough came more blood. She fell onto her side and drew her knees up, tucking into a ball, and began to vomit blood and bile.

“Do something,” Lilalian shouted. “Please.” She went to her knees beside Aminda and continued to brush the hair away from her wet face and rub her arm and back.

Brodas felt somewhat sorry for the captain, so distraught over her inability to help her lady. The way she fretted and patted the dying woman was rather touching.

At long last, Aminda’s coughing weakened and stopped, as did her struggle to breathe, and she lay still and quiet. Lilalian shook her head, whispering, “No, this can’t be. How could this happen?”

“You see, that’s why I wanted you to keep the amulet. As long as you wear it, you’ll be safe. Take it off and...” Brodas gestured to the woman lying in a pool of her own blood.

Drenched in Aminda’s blood, Lilalian shot to her feet with a gaping expression. “You did this--?” She straightened and looked boldly into Brodas’s eyes. “I won’t serve you.”

“Oh, but you’re mistaken. Here,” he said, showing her a ring on his finger. “You see, this gem is a piece of the same stone as the one in your amulet. They were magically bound together and now spelled as one.”

Lilalian blanched.

“That’s right,” he said. The expression on her face made it plain she had some understanding of how gems worked, but he couldn’t resist hammering the point home. “Any spell I cast through this ring will affect you for better or for worse, no matter where you are.”

“No! I won’t let you poison the Sisterhood,” Lilalian shouted. Her eyes darted around as though trying to decide what to do. Then she reached for the amulet at her breast. She was going to commit suicide.

Warrick grabbed her wrists and wrestled them behind her back.

“Listen to me, Lilalian,” Brodas said. “Take that amulet off and you’ll die. Of that you have no doubt. Your death may delay our partnership with the Viragon Sisterhood, but it’s only a matter of time before I find someone who sees things my way. I’ll go through them one after another until I do.”

Lilalian threw her head back to slam into Warrick’s lip. She stomped his foot and twisted in his grasp, freeing herself. Suddenly, she had her sword in her hand.

“Warrick!” Brodas shouted, but Warrick was unarmed. She lunged at Brodas. He barely had enough warning to put up a protection spell. The point of her sword stopped an inch shy of his chest. White haze raced down the length of her blade and washed over her hand and arm, up to her chest and engulfed her body. She fell, limp, to the floor, her weapon clattering beside her. Warrick wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, then bent and picked up the sword.

Brodas squatted and cocked his head to look into her eyes. He knew she could hear and see him, and in a few hours, she would be able to stand up. “I would have preferred your cooperation. Doing it this way is not without its price. The strong-willed tend to go ranting after a few weeks. By then, I should have what I need, and a new guild mistress will take your place just as you have taken Aminda’s today.” He brought the ring up to his chin and closed his eyes. He pulled from deep within his center enough strength and will to turn her. As pressure around his chest and at the base of his throat began to build, he shoved the mounting power toward the stone as his lips formed the words,
Sola Allien.

Lilalian’s eyes softened into round puppy’s eyes. Brodas put a hand on her arm and healed her, removing the spell of paralysis. Little by little, she moved her hands, feet, arms and legs. “You should be starting to regain feeling now,” Brodas said, rubbing his temples. The pressure was building like the rumblings after an earthquake.

“I don’t know what came over me,” Lilalian said as she started to rise. “Forgive me, my lord.”

Warrick shot an appreciative glance at Brodas. He extended a hand to help her up, and she grasped it and stood. She wobbled on unsteady legs and he caught her with an arm around her waist. “Whoa there.”

She steadied herself against him and smiled. “Could you help me put Aminda on her horse?”

Warrick nodded with a somber expression. “Of course. But we’ll want to clean her up first.”

Brodas rubbed his pounding temples.

“Are you ill, Seer Ravenkind?” Lilalian asked.

The volume of her voice exploded in his head and he grimaced. “I’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “Just a bit overwhelmed by the tragedy that has befallen us this evening.” The pain began to diminish as his healing powers did their work.

She eyed the guild mistress’s corpse. “What will I tell the other women?” she asked.

“Why, the truth, of course,” Brodas answered. He smiled gently, the pain nearly gone.

She looked at him with a confused expression.

“My dear,” Brodas said, “you’ll soon learn, as I did, that everyone has their own truth. To Aminda, an agreement with me would have been bad for the guild. Your truth is different, is it not?”

Lilalian nodded slowly.

“What you tell them isn’t as important as the effect your words have. You simply need to find the truth that’s right for the Sisterhood.”

Chapter 9

Risan set his quill down and fanned the parchment.
Yes,
he thought with an appreciative nod. It was a good design, suitable for the man who would wield the finished weapon. Within the hilt, the tang would be the full width of the blade, and the full length of the grip. The hilt itself would be wide -- wide enough for Gavin’s large hand -- and resemble a pair of writhing snakes, which, to his people, represented wisdom and prosperity. The head of one snake formed the pommel, and the head of the other lay just below the guard, the blade extending from its open mouth like a tongue. It would be more than a weapon; it would be a work of art.

Through the walls of his forge, the shouts of merchants crying their wares and accusations of swindling by their customers eased into Risan’s consciousness. The jingle and slap of a tambourine grew louder as a band approached the market. The elusive, dreamy prose of a bard wove a spell through Risan’s thoughts, and died away as the bard moved farther down the street.

Risan looked up from his sketch and drew his eyebrows together. This moment felt familiar to him, as though he’d lived it before. No, not lived it - dreamt it. He felt light-headed as the images from the dream flooded his mind. It had been a dream so lucid, he’d thought it to be a vision of some kind, like the ones his grandfather used to have. Five or six years ago, he dreamed a hero had saved Arlet, and Risan had vowed to make the hero a sword. “A sword worthy of a king,” his dream self had said. The jingling of the tambourine faded away like a wistful summer breeze.