An Oath Of The Kings (Book 4) (8 page)

Beck scratched his head. “So a wizard, who can’t possibly exist, is killed and then another—an accomplice?—retrieves his body? Impossible.”

“You keep saying that, but you must have felt something strange was going on when you asked me to guard the King for you.”

Yes, he had. Several weeks ago Diamond’s stone had gone silent and the last time that happened, Avalon Ravener had used sorcery to blind the Divination sorceress’s sight. He had been on edge ever since. Looks like now he had every reason to be.

“I don’t understand,” Mila continued. “Why would a Mage want to assassinate the King? To what purpose?”

Good question. Only Beck had more of those than he did answers.

Kiernan squeezed her eyes shut and moaned at the sharp pain stabbing behind her ears. Nausea crept up her throat. A heavy weight pushed down on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She tried to roll over, but found she couldn’t move. Her eyes slit open to find a man she didn’t recognize lying on top of her.

“Get off!” She shoved and kicked until the man fell to the side on his back. A dagger stuck up from the middle of his chest.

She scrambled back from the dead man and expelled the contents of her stomach. For long moments, she vomited as the pain in her head worsened. When she had nothing left, she collapsed to the ground and curled up into a ball on her side.

Bajan! I need you!

No answer.

Bajan!

A visceral urge to flee coursed through her and she struggled to stand. The unmistakable outline of her father’s palace rose out of the dark in front of her.
Nysa? I’m in Nysa? How is that possible? How did I get here from Pyraan?
She eyed the dead man on the ground.
Did I kill him?
It was then that she noticed another body facedown on the path a few feet away.

The urge to flee turned to compulsion and she didn’t fight it. She ran. A mindless sprint that took her back toward the royal stables and then to the front of the palace. Her father wouldn’t be pleased to see her free of her exile, of that she was certain. Not when he was the one who sent her there kicking and screaming in the first place.

Realizing that there would be Scarlet Sabers in the courtyard, she slowed her pace to avoid drawing any suspicion her way and entered Dannery Row. She cursed the fact that she didn’t have a cloak to hide her face, but to her surprise, she didn’t need it. The city was deserted.

Shops were locked up tight. Windows were dark. An eerie chill at the silence tingled at the base of her spine. Then, she noticed the black mourning shrouds that covered most of the merchant’s district.
That’s why. An important death. But, who?

An old man huddled in the corner of the doorway of a cutlery shop made clicking noises with his tongue and lifted a bottle in her direction. She ignored him and picked up her pace, determined to make it to the gates and disappear into the marketplace beyond.

Bajan!

Where is he?
Her protector had never been more than a thought away.

Why can’t I remember anything? Think!
Her last solid memories involved her life at the Parsis dormitory, taking classes at the academy and feeling excitement for the upcoming Homage Festival.

So, how did I get back to Nysa? Who are these dead men?
Kidnappers who thought to ransom her off to her father? Assassins for a rival House? Did she manage to kill them somehow before they could see their plans through? The throbbing pain in her head suggested that she had been involved in some altercation with them.

It was the oddest feeling, but even though she couldn’t remember anything since the festival, it felt to her as though many intervening years had passed between then and now. Her body felt older and she had this sense that a myriad of memories and experiences hovered just out of reach, although how many she didn’t know.

What she
did
know was that, according to Massan law, she couldn’t be here in Iserlohn.
I’ll just have to travel north back to the safety of Pyraan.
She had friends there. Good friends. Beck Atlan, Airron Falewir and Rogan Radek. Shifters just like her. And, they would be able to tell her what in the Netherworld was going on.

****

Mila’s assertion that Maximus’s killer had been a Mage gave Beck much to think about and he gently tried to prod the woman toward the door with claims of urgent business.

She seemed not to hear. Instead, she causally strolled around the bedroom trailing a finger along the top of his dresser. “Have you heard from Kellan, Your Grace?”

Ah, so that’s the reason for her reluctance to leave.
Before Kellan left for Torg, he confided in Beck the depth of his feelings toward the young noble, and it appeared she felt the same. He shook his head. “No. I won’t hear from Kellan or Kane for weeks yet.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about him becoming a Mage,” she confessed.

“Why?” he asked, genuinely curious despite his need to get this girl out of his room before his wife returned.

She shrugged. “Your Order of Mages is a brotherhood. From the little I know of the
Dagarmon
, their commitment appears all-consuming. Honestly, I…I don’t want to share that much of him.”

“I don’t think you need worry about that.”

Her dark blue eyes opened wide. “No? Did he…?”

“It’s not my place to discuss my son’s feelings, but I think it is safe to say that he thinks very highly of you.”

Her cheeks blossomed with color showing her young age, but Beck knew that Mila Stowe could also be hard when required. She controlled lands and armies and by all accounts, she did both quite capably.

“Well, Mage or no, Your Grace, I can tell you right now that he will
not
be tattooing his face!”

Beck’s laugh died in his throat as the door to his chambers slammed open.
I’m a dead man,
he thought.

“First Mage!”

His initial relief that it wasn’t Kiernan turned to a ribbon of fear when he recognized the voice. Dax Rennar, one of the
Dagarmon
who traveled to Nysa with him, would never storm into his rooms without knocking. Not unless something was terribly wrong. Beck hurried from the bedroom to find Dax breathing hard as though he had been running. “Dax?”

“I found Gidon on the trail from the stables. He’s dead.”

Mila poked her head out of the bedroom. “Who’s Gidon?”

The ribbon swelled into a swath of terror. He could barely spit out the answer to her question. “My wife’s guard.”

Two Scarlet Sabers that had been out in the corridor rushed in and the look of shock in their eyes at the sight of Mila in his robe was hard to miss, but he could not have cared less at the moment. He ran into his bedroom and found Kiernan’s hairbrush. He carefully extracted a strand of hair and headed out onto the balcony. Cradling the hair in the palms of both hands, he cast out with a seeking spell. “
Locusi
.”

The magic whispered out into the night scouring and searching. It wasn’t a far-ranging spell, but it would at least tell him if Kiernan was nearby. The enchantment wafted through the palace, the stables, and the courtyard beyond.

Nothing.

He turned back into the room to address the Sabers. “Get Captain Cresson on this now! I want every available Saber searching Nysa for the Princess! And, bodyshifters! The best trackers we have in the army!”

The Scarlet Sabers ducked back out through the open door. A black cat, tail swaying in the air, followed them out. Beck shook his head.
Why couldn’t she have done that before the soldiers arrived?
He picked up the robe lying in a heap on the floor and tossed it on a chair.

“First Mage, that’s not all,” Dax said. “There was another man lying on the ground several feet from Gidon. It may be his killer.” He paused. “But, Gidon, didn’t kill
him
…your wife did.” He held Kiernan’s dagger in his hands. “I pulled this from his chest.”

Beck exhaled in relief.
She’s alive. I know it.
“Take me to him.”

Dax nodded and led the way through the palace and down the stairs to the servants’ quarters. All of the doors along the corridor were closed as expected. The King’s staff was in mourning and would be for many days.

At the end of the hallway, Dax pushed his way out of the heavy iron door. A Scarlet Saber snapped to attention, but Beck waved him down as he followed the
Dagarmon
.

A few paces along the trail that connected the palace and the stables, Beck grimaced at the sight of Gidon lying on his back. He immediately knelt to check for signs of life, but it was obvious by the amount of blood that pooled under his body that he was dead.

“You said there were two bodies.” Beck looked up to see Dax spinning in a circle, scanning the area.

“He was right here! Only moments ago!”

Beck straightened.
Another missing body and another accomplice? Did he take Kiernan as well?

“I want the gates secured, Dax. By you personally. You will know what to look for.” He thought about Airron’s mouse form. “I don’t want anyone or anything, no matter how small, getting through those gates until Kiernan is found.”

Kiernan leaned to the side and furtively fingered the cloak that had been left on the bench next to her. The owner—one of the few people out on this strange evening—seemed far more interested in the man pressing her up against a tree. When the woman’s throaty laugh was abruptly swallowed by his kiss, Kiernan picked up the garment and walked away. She swept the cloak over her shoulders and raised the hood just in time to avoid the first drops of rain that fell from the night sky.

Droplets shimmered in the pockets of lamplight spaced along the empty road. Loneliness crashed down on her, hollowing out her chest. Inexplicably, a portion of her life had been lost to her, and what little she did remember was as out of reach as the rest.

She glanced forlornly at the palace behind her. Her father, the only family she had left, was so close yet she couldn’t go to him. If he had been heartless enough to exile her as a child, he would have no use for the woman she had become.

Inside her tumultuous thoughts, another face leapt to her mind.

A young earthshifter with pale blue eyes.

A boy by the name of Beck Atlan.

When last she saw him, he had been consumed with excitement to join the Pyraan Northwatch Legion and march off with noble thoughts of defending the realm. That boy was so idealistic! So altruistic! She had never met anyone like him. She had been falling in love with him the last time she had seen him and suspected he felt the same, although the big lummox never admitted as much to her.

How many years ago had that been? How big was the missing chunk of her life? Was Beck still living in Pyraan? Airron and Rogan as well?

Maybe even Bajan?

Why doesn’t he answer?
She batted back a tear, refusing to accept the horrid implication—that he no longer lived. No, she wouldn’t think along those lines. Down that path was a devastation she doubted she could overcome.

Sentries patrolling the top of the outer wall appeared as ghosts in the night. Their black silhouettes carved out in stark relief against the steel gray sky. Another guard on the ground before the gates halted her with an upraised palm. Instinctively, she pulled her hood closer around her face. “I would like to leave,” she told him with as much authority as she could gather while her mind raced to find a plausible excuse for leaving the city at this hour.

But, he never asked her. To her surprise, he simply nodded and held open the smaller door built into the wall to the left of the enormous gates.
That was easy. Too easy. Father would not be pleased.
She ducked through before the guard thought to question her and hurried into the dark tunnel that led to the marketplace beyond.

Here, at last, was noise.

Merchants roamed the aisles between stalls hawking their wares. People bartered and argued while their children played at their feet. Enticing smells filled the air, making Kiernan wonder when she’d had her last meal. Quite a while if her rumbling stomach was any indication.

A woman wearing bright rouge on her cheeks beckoned seductively to men from the shadows of her tent. One took her up on her offer and after an exchange of coin, the pair disappeared inside.

Kiernan frowned and continued along the wide paths that crisscrossed the vast open market. She knew she had a much greater chance of going unrecognized here than in the city itself. Most of the people outside of the walls came from all over Iserlohn to conduct their business without ever stepping foot within the city of Nysa.

Loud shouts, laughter and some groans came from a particularly crowded stall. Curious, Kiernan headed that way. Several spectators stood watching and betting on what appeared to be a contentious game of knife-throwing between two men. The apparent favorite was dark haired and bearded and with arms as thick as an earthshifter. The other was clean shaven with shoulder-length blonde hair.

The lighter-haired man ignored the goading jeers from the crowd and ran his hands over a collection of knives on a wooden plank in front of him. He finally chose one and bounced it in his palm, gauging its heft. Evidently satisfied with his choice, he turned toward the target—the face of a bull painted on a tree. His face a mask of concentration, he took his time lining up his aim and then flipped the knife toward the target with a hard, quick throw.

A dull thud sounded as the knife stuck true, directly in the eye of the painted beast.

The bearded man and most of the crowd moaned and cursed. The winner calmly walked over to a hooded figure who sat off to the side and claimed his purse of coins. Kiernan took the opportunity to reach over to the wooden bar and snatch one of the knives. Prize in hand, she slipped away from the crowd and disappeared back into the market.

Feeling more at ease that she was armed, all she had to do now was find a way to Pyraan.
But, how?
No one in Iserlohn would have any reason to travel north unless they were transporting a shifter son or daughter—highly unlikely at this time of night.

A horse then, she decided.

The rain started to fall harder. Kiernan searched all the muddy aisles along the path and finally caught sight of a line of horses, snorting and stomping in their pickets. She hurried over and stepped up to a brown mare.

“What are you doing there? Bug off, lad! Those horses are not for sale!” A man with a stick in his hand rushed toward her.

With a frustrated growl, she took off and made it to the easternmost border of the market without locating any unguarded horses. She pulled her lip through her teeth as she debated what she should do. Up ahead, two wagons filled with merchandise were preparing to pull out onto the southern road, but they couldn’t help her.
I need to go north, not south!

All hesitancy faded from her mind at the sound of the Nysian gates making their onerous journey open.
They never open the gates at this hour!

Sudden bright light filled the market and Kiernan spun toward the city wall with wide eyes. Soldiers stood atop the parapet with balls of fire hovering above their palms.
Shifted fire! Those are shifters creating that light!
She had a few terrified seconds to wonder if Nysa was under attack before a unit of mounted Scarlet Sabers tore out of the gates. They rode in a deliberate pattern up and down the lanes of stalls and tents making it apparent they were searching for something.
Or someone.
Had her father discovered that she had returned? Could it be possible that her father no longer held power and another House ruled? One that wanted her dead? Even more puzzling, why did the people in the market seem unconcerned that shifted fire was being used openly?

Only, now was not the time to question.

She turned and sprinted toward the southern-bound wagons. One was already rumbling down the road. The driver of the other was just about to pull himself up onto the bench, and Kiernan grabbed his arm to stop him. He turned to her with a glare.

It was the man from the knife throwing contest. The blonde-haired man who had won.

“Pardon,” she said breathlessly, but then willed the emotion out of her voice. “I am looking for passage out of Nysa. Would you be kind enough to allow me to ride with you?”

The man leaned back to give her an appraising look. “I’ve no interest in getting involved with some highborn lady out to escape her husband. I’ve enough troubles of my own.”

Kiernan looked down. Although she still wore the stolen cloak, it did not entirely cover the red silk dress she wore underneath. She quickly shook her head. “It’s not like that.”

“Then, tell me why a noble lady would be seeking to leave Nysa in the dead of the night?”

“I just do,” whispered. “Please.”

The man shook his head and started to pull himself up once again.

“Wait! I won’t be any trouble. I promise. Please.”

“Demon’s breath.” The man cast a worried look south at the other wagon pulling further ahead. “All right, get in.”

Kiernan ran to the other side and jumped up to the driver’s bench. The man picked up the reins, slapped them against the horse waiting placidly in its harness and the wagon lurched ahead. “Thank you,” she said loudly over the noise. “I…I don’t have any money, but—”

“I don’t want your money,” he told her. “But, I
will
have payment.”

Kiernan hissed softly.
How dare he? If he thinks for one second to take advantage of—

He held his hand out. “I’ll have my knife back.”

****

Rayan held the wood in his hand and drew the knife along the side to whittle away the bark. The knife slipped for the third time in as many minutes and he shook a droplet of blood onto the ground. His clumsy hands just weren’t made for woodwork and that’s all there was to it. He supposed he could use sorcery to create what he hoped would eventually become a Chero smoking pipe, but he refused to use the magic that now burned within his chest like a living thing. A disgusting, vile sentience that hovered in his mind, on his tongue and at his fingertips just aching to be unleashed. The others might find comfort in their newfound power, but he wished it hadn’t been necessary to ever go to that alternate realm.

But, it had.

In order to defeat their enemies, they had to meet them on a level field.

He threw down the wood and the knife and stood wondering how much longer he would have to wait in this spirit-forsaken cavern.
How can they all just sit here?
he fumed.

“Relax.”

Zavier said the words softly, but they stole all the warmth from the air causing Rayan to pull his coat tighter around his throat. The sorcerers in the cabal, fourteen strong, claimed not to have a leader, but all knew Zavier filled that role.

Rayan gave the Mage a sidelong glance. That square face and jaw of his could have been made from granite for all the emotion it showed. And, the eyes were worse. Two spiritless black marbles stuck in his skull as though in afterthought. At first glance some might even suspect that Zavier used a bodyshifted form, but Rayan knew better. The old man had worked for his family ever since Rayan was a child, and those eyes had been haunting him for a very long time. Yet, here they were, years later, joined in an unlikely alliance for a common cause.

“Easy for you to say, Zavier, but I’ve better things to do than sit around all night. I have duties to attend to.”

“You will stay, lad, until we get news.”

And, that was that.

Rayan sighed and looked out at the ferocious storm lashing outside.
It’s not like I’ll make it home in this weather anyway.
He bent to pick up his wood and knife, but dropped them again when one of the Mages stood and shouted, “They’re back!”

Finally.

Those by the cave entrance stepped aside as a man drenched from the rain came into the cavern with a figure draped over his shoulders. The red-haired, freckle-faced young man who went by the name of Perrod set his burden on the ground.

It was one of their own.

Dead.

Rayan couldn’t tell by looking at the Mage how he had died, but the glassy, unseeing eyes clearly said he
was
dead, and that wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with invincible sorcery at their disposal.

“How did it happen?” Rayan asked.

“He died at Kiernan Atlan’s hand.”

“A mindshifter killed a Mage?”

“I think we can all agree that Kiernan Atlan is not
just
a mindshifter,” Perrod responded, shaking the rain from his hair.

“Idiots,” Rayan spat, looking away from Zavier to make it clear he wasn’t addressing him. “The orders were simple. Kill the Kings, kill the
Savitars
.”

“Not so simple. We all know that.” Perrod paused. “Bron is dead, too. He’s outside. I found his body in the King’s chambers.” At the first shouted outbursts, he raised his hands. “Don’t worry, he killed the King before he died.”

Zavier stood and all went silent. The glare on the block-faced man could stop a heartbeat on a good day, and this wasn’t one of those. “We’ve lost two. Our liege will not be pleased.” Rayan swallowed as Zavier’s dead gaze scanned the chamber. “I will kill the next person who fails at their task. Understand?”

All nodded. Even Rayan. In order to defeat magic, they had to use it. Use it to their advantage in starting a war.