Chapter 12 #4
I didn’t. I just kept on walking, tension rising, knuckles white.
Aric sighed. “Do what I say, or I will kill him.”
“No, you won’t, because he’s the only thing standing between you and death.”
I stopped a foot away from the entrance, pushed the orb deeper into the cavern, then brightened it, needing to see exactly what I was facing and where the two of them were.
Warm light speared the shadows, revealing the sheer enormity of the lake and a stark, almost cathedral-like space surrounding it.
Directly opposite, on a natural podium of stone, were Aric and Damon, the father behind the son, just as the Prioress had predicted.
Damon’s hands and feet were tied, but there was also a thin strip of metal looped around his neck, tight enough to bruise and perhaps even restrict his breathing without drawing blood.
A second but obviously very strong strip of metal ran from that to a boulder sitting very unnaturally on the edge of the dais.
If it fell, it would drag Damon into the water.
Aric’s grip appeared to be the only thing stopping that from happening.
The bastard had countered the possibility of me cindering his black soul.
Not came Kaia’s comment. Metal melt , black rock melt.
Yes, but it would take a wider blanket of flame to make that happen, and I was already pushing my strength. But I’d rather risk collapse than the possibility of Damon drowning.
“As you can now see, you cannot burn me without also cindering him. Note also that he is tied to a very large and conveniently round rock,” Aric replied.
“Try anything untoward, and I release the leash, the rock drops, and it will drag him in. The lake, by the way, slopes steeply away from our position. You will not save him before he drowns. Now, throw out your sword.”
Don’t, trap, earth mage here.
The words whispered into my soul, etched with pain and weariness, and my heart ached for him.
I know.
I unbuckled my sword and tossed it into the cavern.
It clattered heavily on the black stone, sliding forward several feet before coming to a stop close to the edge of the lake.
Which was just as well, because Túxn only knew I couldn’t swim well enough to rescue it from the depths if it had dropped in.
“Now, move into the cavern so I can see if you hide any other weapons.”
“Forgive the distrust again, Aric, but?—”
I drew on Kaia’s fire and ripped it around the corner, straight at the dead patch and whoever else—whatever else—might be waiting there. Again, there was no scream. I stepped out, glanced right, and saw the ashes. One pile, no more.
“You know,” Aric said, voice conversational and almost amused, “you and Damon—the real Damon, not this traitorous bastard—would have had magnificent sons.”
“It’s not the sons you have to worry about. It’s us daughters. We control the drakkons, remember.”
“Drakkons—whether or not they have fire—cannot breach Zephrine’s defenses.”
I snorted and turned left, walking around the lake’s shoreline toward them. “I’m sure you thought that exact same thing about the riders, too, and yet they have decimated a good portion of the city.”
“But not the important section. Not her walls or the fortress itself. Stop where you are, Commander, and remove your coat so I can be sure there are no more weapons. As you said, forgive the distrust, but?—”
I smiled coldly and did as he bid, tossing my coat onto the damp stone to my left before raising my arms and slowly turning around. The knife seemed to press harder against my spine, as if trying to hide from his gaze.
Once I’d done a complete turn, I moved on. He didn’t object.
Wants closer came Damon’s tortured whisper. Has knife .
Because a knife was a more intimate means of death than a sword. Because with a knife, he could feel the blood gush over his hands and watch the life bleed from my eyes....
He’s not the only one.
What?
How much do you trust me?
With my life.
Well then, prepare to be stabbed.
What? he repeated.
I didn’t reply. I didn’t dare risk any further distraction. My gaze and my attention were on Aric, on the rock that would drag Damon into the water if I wasn’t fast enough, on the declining distance between us and how close I’d need to be to ensure my throw flew straight, true into flesh.
So many things needed to go right, and I was bone weary....
I do fire , Kaia said. You throw blade.
That would definitely help when it came to hitting all the required marks at the same time, but likely wouldn’t help my growing weariness.
Closer and closer I got to the dais and the two men. Damon’s feet, I now noticed, were leashed to the stone on which he stood, the metal ropes running up his lower legs to his knees, locking them in place. Aric remained partially shielded by Damon’s body.
“Climb up onto the dais,” he ordered, “and step closer.”
The dais was a good four feet high, which made lithely leaping up a little awkward—as intended, no doubt—but there were a couple of rocks to my right that were suitable enough to be stepping stones.
Kaia, get ready.
Am.
Melt that wire before you hit either man with fire.
Will.
I stepped onto the edge of the dais and stopped, placing both hands behind my back, my stance formal, as if awaiting the orders of a superior.
“Ah, a soldier to the last. I appreciate that.” Aric stepped sideways just enough to reveal his blade.
It was long and narrow; a blade designed to slip into ribs, into the heart, from behind.
Not that he’d use it that way. He wanted to watch.
Wanted to see my helplessness and pain as death claimed my soul.
Wanted Damon to see me die before he sent his soul to Vahree after mine
I took a deep breath and wrapped my fingers around the knife’s hilt; energy pricked across my skin, its touch as hot as drakkon fire.
It was almost as if in spelling the blade, the Prioress had imbued it with her own anger.
Which might well be true, but I suspected the answer might be something far simpler—a second spell that would hit Aric if things didn’t go to plan.
Slowly, carefully, I drew the blade free from my belt.
Aric didn’t notice; he was too busy staring at my face, enjoying the fear I freely allowed to show in my face and my eyes.
His eyes were filled with avarice but no madness.
His actions might verge on the edge of insanity, but the man was deadly sane.
He really did believe he could murder us both with little reprisal from Esan.
“Come closer, Commander.”
“What, so you can stick me with your knife?”
“One way or another, this knife will find your flesh. Come closer, and I’ll make it quick.”
I no make his quick , Kaia grumbled. We do this soon?
We do. The minute my blade enters Damon’s flesh, you melt the wire and then burn Aric.
I took one step forward, glanced at Damon, and saw the fear in his eyes, the readiness.
Took another step and felt the wave of anticipation rolling from Aric.
Tightened my grip on the blade, then dropped my hand and flicked the blade, with as much force as I could muster, at my chosen entry point—Damon’s left shoulder.
As the blade arrowed through the air, visible and gleaming, Aric swore and raised his own knife. I had no idea if he meant to stab Damon or throw it at me, but he had no chance to do either.
The blade thudded into Damon’s flesh, and I yelled internally, Now, Kaia, now!
The force of her flames erupted through me, out of me, for an instant making me nothing more than an incandescent being of fire.
Flames enveloped Damon, melting Aric’s blade and ashing the hand that held it.
Aric swore violently and released his hold on the boulder, but Kaia’s fire was already there, severing the connection between man and rock.
As it started to roll down the incline, Aric turned and ran—away from me, away from the flames, toward the lake.
Leaving Damon still standing, totally untouched by the heat that had briefly encased him.
The flames chased after Aric, snapping at his heels, burning the flesh from his legs, playing up his spine, peeling away clothes but not skin.
Kaia was holding true to her promise to make him suffer.
To his credit, he wasn’t screaming, though his pain had to be intense. I suspected he didn’t want to give me the satisfaction. And that, perhaps more than anything, had the deep desire for revenge easing.
Kaia, enough. Kill him.
Need suffer more.
No doubt, but aside from the fact killing him in this manner made me no better than him, I knew my parents wouldn’t want this.
Wouldn’t want his suffering, no matter what he had done.
I reached into the deadly heart of the heat flowing through me, forced it to envelop his entire body, and killed him between one heartbeat and another.
As his ashes fell silently onto the lake’s oddly blue waters, Kaia withdrew, and I dropped hard onto my knees, my whole body shaking, tears and blood—the latter from the popped mote in my eye—spilling down my cheeks.
For several minutes, I did nothing more than suck in air, every breath little more than a deep, shuddering gulp, my arms wrapped around me, rocking back and forth as I fought the pain that encased my body and my head.
Fought to remain conscious against the tide of black that was roaring toward me.
We still had to get out of here, still had to squeeze through that toothy entrance.
Eventually, the blackness retreated enough for me to raise a hand.
Slowly, carefully, I sent a thin stream of fire toward Damon and melted the wire binding his legs to the stone.
It was almost the end of me. Or rather, almost the end of consciousness.
As the darkness loomed deep and hard, I reached once again for Kaia and stole enough of her strength to remain aware.
Something hard clattered to the stone; my knife, its blade glowing a bloody hue in the warmth of the orb that was somehow still floating above the lake, even if its glow had severely diminished.
Then Damon was in front of me, his hands free but his wrists bloody and still wrapped with wire.
He pulled me into his arms, into his chest, and held me tightly.
“In Túxn’s name,” he whispered raggedly, “you nigh on gave me a heart attack several times tonight.”
“Yeah, sorry,” I replied, voice even softer—more etched with pain—than his. Not that it mattered; he would hear me even if I didn’t speak. “And sorry about the whole stabbing thing, too.”
He laughed, a weary and yet joyous sound, and pulled back, his gaze searching my face. I wasn’t sure what he saw, but happiness sang through our link. “As long as it’s not a continuing feature of our marriage, wife, I forgive you.”
“Restrain the urge to get captured by revenge-seeking monarchs, husband, and there will not be a continuing need to stab you.”
He smiled and dropped a sweet, gentle kiss on my lips. “How did the mission go?”
“We did what we set out to do but—” I stopped and swallowed against the surge of grief. It didn’t help, and tears flowed anew. “But we lost a drakkon and a rider.”
“Ah, Bryn, I’m so, so sorry.” He drew me back against his body and brushed another kiss across the top of my head. “Who?”
“Hannity and Rua. They didn’t deserve it. They were both so young....”
I trailed off. They were young, yes, but this was war, and war didn’t care about age or life or who deserved death and who did not. It just took.
And it would continue to take until one side was victorious.
That end point was coming... and it was coming at us fast.