A Thread in the Tangle (4 page)

Returning to his body was like being shot from a bow.
 
It took a moment for him to regain his senses and find his bearings.
 
He shook off the dizzying effects like a great bear ridding itself of water and turned his gaze to the nymphling.
 
She was unconscious, a normal condition after a healing, which allowed the body to recuperate.

It was well she was, because no child should witness what was to come.
 
He smoothed Isiilde’s hair from her forehead with slow purpose, noting with relief that her lips and the tips of her ears had returned to their natural shade.
 
Oenghus stood and placed her gently in the plush chair by the hearth, mulling over his options while he waited for Soataen’s arrival.

The nymphling’s Fate, and his own for that matter, depended on Soataen’s whims.
 
Isiilde’s mother, Yasine, had been a nymph.
 
Therefore Soataen had taken Yasine’s death hard, not owing to any love of her, but rather, because a part of his spirit was lost when she died, and he had not been a whole man since.

Yasine’s death had given Soataen an ample taste of the Keening.
 
And because the child looked exactly like her mother, thank the Sylph, every time the Emperor saw the little redhead, he was reminded of the youth he had lost.
 
Isiilde’s presence was tolerated at the best of times, but this last accident had tipped the scales.
 
Oenghus doubted he would find a shred of sympathy for the nymphling within the Emperor.

Oenghus tugged on his beard in thought.
 
Perhaps that was the wedge he needed: the Keening.

A loud, commanding voice echoed in the hallway beyond, signaling the Emperor’s arrival.
 
Darius snapped to attention while Oenghus planted himself protectively in front of the nymphling.
 
The door opened and Emperor Soataen Jaal III strode through, scanning the cluttered chambers for the nymphling with a critical eye.
 
The Emperor’s four bodyguards took up a defensive position at his side.

Four years ago, the Emperor of Kambe had been a charismatic ruler with smooth, angular features and an acrobat’s form, but the Keening had taken a heavy toll.
 
Soataen was presently a shadow of his former self.
 
Once flawless skin now sagged with age and the golden hair for which he had been famous had turned to a dull, lifeless grey.
 
He still retained some of his gracefulness, but his bones were riddled with ache.

Oh, his subjects still loved him, thanks to a few clever minstrels who had spun the nymph’s death into a tragic love story full of romance, honor and kindness.
 
However, Oenghus knew the stories to be atrocious lies and he was painfully aware of how much the Emperor had ‘loved’ Isiilde’s mother.

“Why isn’t the nymphling in my dungeons, Captain?” Soataen asked, ignoring the giant Nuthaanian looming in the center of the room.
 
The Guard Captain stiffened, but Oenghus was never one to be ignored, not even by royalty, so he spoke before Darius could shoulder the blame.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Oenghus was careful to keep the disdain out of his tone.
 
“Your
daughter
was near death when I found her, and although she is better, she’s still weak.
 
It’d be best to let her remain here with me or you’ll put her in further danger.”

“I don’t care one wit for that nymphling, except for the gold she will fetch me.”

“She will fetch you nothing if she’s dead,” Oenghus stated, flatly.

“Do you think me a fool, Wise One?” Soataen arched an imperious brow.

“I don’t think you’ve thought this through, sire.”

“Oh, I assure you,” Soataen purred, dangerously.
 
“I have given this matter a great deal of thought.
 
That—creature nearly killed my heirs tonight, my son and daughter.
 
Nine of my subjects are dead because of that fiend curled safely in your chair.
 
What of
their
families?”

“The laws of your land do not hold a child accountable for an accident.”

“This matter is not up for debate,” Soataen warned.

“A dungeon, no matter how comfortable, will kill her, sire.”
 
Oenghus thought this a very diplomatic approach.
 
Unfortunately, the Emperor was in no mood for diplomacy.

“You have served me well, Wise One, but I am in no mood to be trifled with tonight.
 
Step aside, Oenghus Saevaldr, or I will lay treason upon your head.”
 
Soataen’s word was law and he said the last with the finality of an executioner's axe that snapped his bodyguards into action.

Four hardened soldiers fanned out, positioning themselves between Oenghus and their Emperor.

To the Void with diplomacy, Oenghus thought, it hadn’t worked for him in the last nine-hundred and eighty-four years, so why the Void would it be any different now?

Oenghus pinned the Emperor with a baleful stare, ignoring the four flies hovering in his way, and gave his simple reply, “No.”
 
The single word struck the Emperor like a missile of spit.
 
Soataen blinked, truly shocked by the Nuthaanian’s open defiance.

“How dare you,” Soataen bristled with all his noble bearing.

“I will not let you harm this child.
 
You owe it to her mother,” Oenghus growled.
 
“You discarded the laws of your—”

“Enough!”

“—own land.”

“Kill him.”

“You abducted the nymph and raped her!” Oenghus roared, backing up as the guards approached.

At his accusation, Darius faltered, but the Emperor’s personal guard didn’t hesitate.
 
Oenghus turned in time to catch a thrusting spear and tore the weapon from the guard’s hand as easily as if he were a child with a stick.

The Lore sprang to his lips, a thundering roar that stirred the ground to life.
 
A moment later the stone floor erupted beneath the guards’ feet, disrupting their advance.
 
Three of the guards were thrown back, landing in a heap of clattering armor along with a deluge of displaced stone, while the smallest, quick and agile, dove over the wave of debris.

The agile guard landed, executed a somersault, and came up swinging his sword.
 
Oenghus caught the blade in his hand, letting the keen edge dig into his palm with a toothy grin.
 
The guard’s eyes widened with fear.

Oenghus grabbed the guard’s collar, yanked him forward, and drove his head into the man’s face.
 
Taking advantage of his opponent’s stunned state, he picked up the reeling soldier and chucked him into his fellows like a sack of grain.

“I will tear this palace down stone by stone, Soataen!” Oenghus bellowed, throwing his hands apart, reaching toward the walls as if he held them by unseen chains.
 
At his thundering call, the walls began to shift and crack, pelting their heads with mortar and stone.

“She was a nymph.
 
That’s what they’re good for,” Soataen snarled.
 
The guards stumbled to their feet, glancing at the enraged Nuthaanian with grim resignation before mustering themselves for another attack, however, the Guard Captain did not join their ranks.

“You’re no fool, Soataen,” Oenghus hissed.
 
“You know the truth as well as I.
 
The Sylph has always favored nymphs.
 
Your fading health is punishment for the suffering you inflicted on one of the Sylph’s beloved children.”
 
Oenghus unhooked his war hammer—a clear warning that he did not intend to go down without a fight.

“Think,” he urged.
 
“Why can’t you escape the Keening’s touch?”
 
Guilt flickered across the Emperor’s pale blue eyes and Oenghus knew he had touched a sore spot.

The guards advanced cautiously, spreading out before their towering opponent who had, up until now, only put as much effort into the fight as he might expend while swatting a swarm of flies.

“What would your subjects think of their
beloved
Emperor if the truth of the matter came out?” Oenghus pressed as he hefted his war hammer.

The guards came at Oenghus in a rush.
 
He drove his bulk into the closest before the man could finish his swing, knocking the soldier’s breath violently out of his body.
 
Oenghus grabbed the stunned soldier’s collar, spun him around, and used him as a shield against his fellows.
 
They scrambled to avoid their comrade, but one soldier was a split second too late, plunging his blade through Oenghus’ human shield.

“Enough!” the Emperor snapped and his guards retreated eagerly.
 
Oenghus tossed their dying comrade at them with one heave of his powerful arm.

“What would you have me do, Wise One?
 
Shall I keep the nymphling in my palace and pray that she doesn’t burn my kingdom down?
 
Or do you think her a tame, innocent little faerie who presents no threat to my subjects?” Soataen asked with a calmness that brought to mind his former self—the epitome of reason and justice.

“I’m not saying she isn’t,” Oenghus replied, trying and failing to hide his disappointment over the Emperor’s four hounds being collared.
 
He had just been warming up.

“If not a dungeon, then where do I keep her?
 
Answer me that.”

“Send her with me to the Isle,” Oenghus blurted out suddenly, as surprised at his own suggestion as the Emperor.

“They don’t accept faerie.”

“I’ll deal with the details,” Oenghus grunted, wondering if he had a chance of persuading the Council of Nine to accept her.

“No, absolutely not,” Soataen said, shaking his head.
 
“The nymphling is worth far too much.
 
You’re nothing but a barbarian.
 
How do I know you won’t sell her yourself, or take her for yourself when she comes of age?
 
Your fondness for women and debts are well known in my court.”

“How dare you question my honor, you bloody bastard!” Oenghus barked, struggling with an urge to toss the Emperor out the window.
 
Soataen would surely fit through the narrow space with some forceful pushing and a bit of imagination.

 
Oenghus clenched his fists, the veins on his neck bulged, and his sapphire eyes burned with threat.
 
“I was the only one who Yasine let near her after you got through with her, Soataen.
 
Who sat by her deathbed for three nights?
 
Who helped her hold her daughter when she had no strength?
 
By the gods, I was the only one who she trusted and now you question
my
intentions towards her daughter!”
 
Oenghus’ voice echoed off the stone, beating in the air, and rising above the storm without.

“Get out of my kingdom, Wise One, and take that nymphling from my sight.
 
When she comes of age, bring her back, or by the gods, I will summon an Interrogator from Ghast to prolong your torment,” Soataen threatened.
 
“Captain, I want them out of Kambe before the sun rises.”

Oenghus might be reckless, but he wasn’t going to tempt luck by squabbling over details.
 
He hooked his war hammer on his belt, hastily threw travel necessities into a rucksack, and shrugged his cloak on before picking up the sleeping nymphling.
 
Oenghus strode proudly from his chambers, severing his ties to Kambe as easily as one might shrug off an ill fitting cloak; leaving his books, his potions, and all his belongings save the rucksack on his back and the combustible creature in his arms.

As he walked briskly down the hallway, the Guard Captain fell in step at his side.
 
“Is it true, Oenghus?”

“Ask his bloody bodyguards,” Oenghus replied.
 
“They dragged her back into his bedchambers when she tried to flee.”
 
Yasine had refused Soataen, despite his attempts at winning her trust, and so the Emperor impatiently took her in a lustful rage.
 
Oenghus remembered the night well.
 
As the Royal Healer, he had been summoned to Yasine’s chambers to tend the resulting injuries.

“That’s not what I was asking; she’s a nymph after all.
 
We both know the laws don’t apply to them.
 
I didn’t even know the creature had a name,” Darius murmured.
 
“Still, I wouldn’t have thought it of our Emperor, especially with the songs they sing.
 
Why didn’t you say something?”

“The same reason you’ll come to on further thought of the matter,” Oenghus sighed, feeling as sick as he had then.
 
“This isn’t the way to the front gates.”

“You’ll need more supplies,” Darius said, gruffly.
 
Oenghus nodded in gratitude.

“One more thing,” Oenghus rumbled, which was his equivalent of a whisper.
 
“If you don’t mind sticking your neck out for me again—tell Morigan that I’ve taken Isiilde to the Isle.
 
She’ll worry otherwise.”