37. That Wasn’t Part Of The Plan
37
That Wasn’t Part Of The Plan
Idris
S aeth’s wing juddered as he descended, a few more feathers dislodging and whipping away on the wind, but I held both my breath and the reins steady until we clattered onto the slate roof tiles. The horse snorted, shaking himself like a wet hound as I slipped from his back. A few streaks of blood stained the silver hair of his shoulder. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one to take a hit from the thorns. Without the wind streaming past my helmet, my ears filled with the boom of nearby explosions, and I barely heard my muttered curse.
“Sorry, boy.” Lifting my visor and tugging off my gloves, I pulled three thorns from Saeth’s flesh with care. Fresh blood trickled from each wound, but the horse didn’t flinch.
I patted his sweat-damp neck. The thorn wounds were superficial, but behind his drooping wing, his ribs puffed up and down with each heavy breath. He was getting too old for this.
“Get out of here,” I said, giving him a quick scratch behind the ear. “Take it easy on that wing, stay low, and don’t go too far. Find some grass. I’ll come for you when it’s over.”
Saeth nudged me with his muzzle, and I drew one of my swords in answer. “I’ll be fine. ”
His ears flickered in reproach. He’d always been able to sense my emotions with unnerving ease. I couldn’t bring myself to deny whatever he sensed. He wasn’t stupid, and I wouldn’t treat him as such.
My throat was tight as I said, “Safe flight.” I kissed his long face and turned away before he could protest, leaping the distance between the roof and the ground.
I landed in a crouch, and overhead, the rapid boom of wings announced Saeth’s departure. A single feather drifted down in front of me, settling at my feet.
My shoulders weighed a little heavier, but I sprang upright and drew my second sword, moments before an armoured figure charged at me, weapon raised. He was fast, but I was faster. My slender twin blades met that of the broadsword in a flurry of automatic swings that had long since been trained into me. My body moved on instinct, my magic stirring to join the fight, but I willed it down into the rotten depths of my soul. In only a few short, quick manoeuvres, my opponent fell in a spray of blood, crashing at my feet. With a glance to either side confirming my solitude, I sheathed my swords and hooked my fingers into the collar of my fallen foe’s breastplate, dragging him into a nearby alley.
I stopped only when the shadows had claimed us. It would be a while before the sun climbed high enough to light this narrow strip, and I would be long gone by then. My hands were deft, making short work of the buckles. In minutes, I had stripped him bare and disguised myself as a member of the city guard. The armour was a poor fit, and anyone who looked too long might notice that it had not been made for me. They might glimpse the flight suit between the gaps where the metal didn’t slot together as it should. As for the helmet, it didn’t fit at all. I left it beside the corpse, along with my lightweight flight helmet, and left the alley at a quick-paced walk.
I kept to the shelter of the walls, clanking through the streets. Whenever a horse soared overhead, I darted for cover beneath blossom trees, or the canopies of the buildings. Even if I’d been a regular rider amongst their ranks, I could not have expected them to recognise me at such speeds, with or without the enemy's armour.
Turning a corner, I spotted a cluster of guards jogging in what I hoped was the direction of the gate. I quickened my step, staying near enough to look like one of them, but far enough back that I wasn’t worth the effort of a closer look, and let them lead the way.
We soon turned onto a familiar street, and my jog faltered as memories of the royal carriage sweeping up the broad road to tumultuous cheers and applause assaulted my senses. Mother leaning forward to wave through the window, with an eager Anwir vying to be seen. Father, as unperturbed as ever, smiling benignly at his sociable wife and son, while I pressed myself into the cushions, willing the seat to swallow me whole and spare me from the fawning attention of the masses. I was still fighting that particular battle.
At the end of the road was a broad square, and there, beyond it, the gate. The gate tower was ablaze, smoke billowing into the sky in a thick, black column. My muscles locked as the wind carried the acrid stench to my nose.
For a moment, my lungs stopped working, refusing to take another breath, as cold sweat prickled my spine. Aliza’s ruined body filled my mind’s eye. Blackened, charred flesh. Melted features. The echoing silence that was her lack of heartbeat. The flames had done that to her. Nothing good came of fire .
But my brother and his army were on the other side of that gate, fighting for access. The monotonous roar of the siege rumbled the ground. I might be unable to use my power to bring down the gate, but there were other ways.
Despite my suddenly hollow legs, I forced myself into a run.
Warriors were garrisoned at the barred gate, weapons drawn, standing ready should it fall. My hands tightened around my swords, but I was just one, powerless male surrounded by enemies. If I heeded the urge to charge and fight, I would only ensure my own hasty death. The gate would remain closed. If I was to die, I would attempt to do something of use first. Something that would bring Aliza one step closer to a safe and secure future, without me.
I checked my pace as I approached, surreptitiously joining the warriors’ ranks. They were too preoccupied with staring at the quaking gate with grim determination to spare a second glance for me. Cloaked by their indifference, I skirted the group, eyeing the wall and gate, searching. If anyone bothered to look at me, they would see only a loyal city guard, his eyes trained in the same direction as his fellows, preparing to defend Tir o Gwanwyn. They would not notice that while the others watched the gate, I looked slightly beyond it, studying the chains that would raise the portcullis.
My eyes lifted to the guardroom, where I would find the winch, and higher still, to the blaze. The fire had not yet spread low enough to make the winch inaccessible, and water welders were doubtless hard at work, dousing the flames. There was nothing to fear, so why did my pulse boom in my ears?
I would brave the flames. I’d done it before, and I would do it again. Here. Now. This very moment .
My feet didn’t move.
A distant boom rattled the grit beneath my boots, and a yell went up amongst the guards. I looked up in time to see something white hurtling toward me. A horse.
I threw myself aside with not a moment to spare. With a sickening, splintering crash, horse and rider hit the ground. Warm, wet mist coated my face, and feathers flurried like a snowstorm. Beyond them, in a tangle of crumpled wings, one of the drift riders lay still and broken, her blood pooling beneath her blank, staring face.
It could have been me.
The thought drove me into action. Seizing the cover provided by the ensuing commotion, I slipped away, taking the stairs two at a time.
The guardroom was little more than a dark, cramped box of stone, dominated by an enormous winch. A burly male looked up at my approach. He was not as alarmed by the appearance of an unknown, blood-coated male as he should have been, perhaps lulled by my stolen armour, but when I finally loosened my hold on my power, letting it snake down my blades, the fear came.
The glow of lightning reflected in his widening eyes as he stumbled back a step, his mouth falling open, perhaps to shout that the prince had infiltrated the tower. He never got the chance. There would be no witnesses to tell of this.
It was a quick and clean death. Silent, but for the crack of my power as it raced into his body, stilling his heart in an instant. How easy it was to fight like this. He crumpled to the floor, leaving me alone. I sheathed my swords, and with one final glance at the door, I hauled the winch.
It was heavy work. The wheel cranked too slowly, the weight of the portcullis fighting against me as the chains coiled around and around, lifting it inch by inch. My back and shoulders trembled under the strain.
“I see why you’re so burly, my friend,” I ground out to my dead companion. He only stared unseeingly into the same abyss I’d so often contemplated.
Heave. Heave. Heave.
The wheel moved too slowly. A distant shout drifted through the door. They’d noticed the raising portcullis. I was almost out of time. Baring my teeth, I threw my full weight against the wheel, gaining some momentum. Sweat slickened my palms, but I didn’t let my grip falter.
Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs.
With one last haul, I dove into the void of space. Heavy darkness engulfed me, receding a moment later when I materialised almost directly below, beside the gate. I didn’t stop to see if the guards had noticed my appearance before I blasted my power across the yard and into a building behind the battalion.
With a flash of shattered light and a booming crack that shook the ground, lightning erupted. Bricks and tiles flew in all directions, snaring the attention of the guards.
They would die before they could link the strike to me.
I seized the drawbar barring the gate, running it back into the wall without stopping to see if anyone had noticed me. A warning shout rang out at my back. Footsteps pounded toward me.
My heart leapt to my throat.
I seized the cold metal handle of the gate and hauled it backwards. I caught the briefest glimpse of Anwir’s charging army, taking full advantage of my efforts .
Metal rang, followed almost instantly by the sound of slicing flesh.
My leg gave out, sending me crashing to the ground. Something warm and wet cascaded down the back of my thigh as I tried–and failed–to scramble upright again.
Fuck.
Twisting, I grasped my leg. My fingers slid through blood and torn leather, to a long, deep wound beneath. Pain erupted at the contact, but worse than that, my eyes lifted to my attacker, who towered over me, sword raised.
I lifted my hands on instinct. One shone with blood.
The swing was well-placed. My foe feinted, arcing the blade sideways before slashing it below my upstretched arms. It cut beneath my ill-fitting breastplate, tearing through my leather and to the flesh beneath.
My body stilled as my breath huffed from my lungs. The world ground to a halt.
Beside me, the gate swung open and hundreds of people spilt through, weapons poised. The ground rumbled beneath me as Anwir’s warriors collided with the guards of Tir o Gwanwyn. The air shuddered with magic, but my ears registered only a distant ringing and the thud, thud, thud of my pulse.
The world tilted like the deck of a ship, and the ground pressed against my cheek. Thin, dark rivers wove between the cobbles.
I curled around the wound to my gut, but still the blood spread. My body grew simultaneously light and heavy.
Was this dying? Was this what Taryn had felt? It wasn’t that bad; even the pain was far away and oddly detached, just like my own voice, calling my own name .
Why would I do that?
I tried to frown but couldn’t muster the required coordination. Never mind. It wasn’t important. My eyes slipped closed, taking with them the chance to ever see Aliza’s smile again. That was all I’d wanted; to know she would go on being bright and joyful.
She’d once told me that her name meant joy, and I’d carried that kernel of knowledge with me. There could be no better name for her. She had brought me such happiness. I hoped she knew that. I knew she would feel it again herself, someday soon, once the black cloud of my presence was gone from her life.
Soon.
Aliza. My love. My joy.
“Idris!”
The world shifted again, and I opened my heavy eyes. There I was, staring down at me, with the pale blue sky framing my dark hair. Was it my ghost?
“Idris, you dramatic son of a bitch, don’t even think about dying.”
Not a ghost then. My twin. The edges of his silhouette were fuzzy and glowing, like a sunlit corona.
“Sage!” he bellowed.
My eyelids were heavy. Too heavy. They drooped lower.
Something cracked across my face, and I snapped my eyes open again to find Anwir’s snarling visage inches from mine.
“If anybody is going to kill you, you infernal thorn in my side, it will be me. Now stay awake.”
I wanted to smile, but pulling my lips back required too much effort. He was a liar, and we both knew it. He might dream of my murder, but he was too cowardly to follow through. Luckily, he wouldn’t need to…
“Damn it. Sage!”
I sank deeper into my weightless body. It was quiet there. Peaceful. Empty.
As though carried through a barely opened window on a summer’s breeze, the sounds of frantic, incomprehensible conversation drifted to me. It wasn’t enough to stir me from such peace.
Something cold and bitter spilt into my mouth, mingling with the metallic taste of blood. I coughed as it rushed to my throat, but my mouth wouldn’t open. My nose was sealed. I tried to toss my head, but my weakness betrayed me.
“Swallow it, you fool.”
I had no choice but to obey. The moment the liquid slid down my throat, the clamp over my face disappeared, and I drew a breath. Some of the foggy peace dissipated, and pain cut through my airy numbness. I groaned, grasping my abdomen, only to find someone else's hands already there.
I blinked. My vision cleared slightly, and Anwir and Sage drifted into view. Their edges were blurred, they’re features slightly distorted, but they were there.
“Lie still, Your Highness,” Sage commanded. “Let the potion work.”
My arm dropped back to the ground and I closed my eyes, but this time it was a choice. This time, there was no peaceful fading. With every moment that passed, everything grew sharper. Clearer.
Pain. Noise. Determination .
What had I been thinking? I couldn’t die. I didn’t want to. I wanted to see Aliza again, and I would. I would live.
The pulsing agony of my gut said otherwise.
“We need to get him out of here,” Sage said. “This is beyond my skill.”
“There’s a healer at the camp,” my brother replied.
“Hurry.”
With a wave of pain that threatened to shove me into the void of oblivion, my body jostled. I cried out, but the sound was cut off by the breath-stealing crush of the dark.