Fireblood (Whispers from Mirrowen) (51 page)

The Arch-Rike’s voice thundered in Paedrin’s mind.
Tyrus will not be taken easily. Cripple the girl and then come at him from above. Quickly now!

Hettie slashed and swiped at Paedrin, trying to keep him back, but he was too fast for her. He caught one of her arms and kicked her hard in the ribs then smashed into her knee, dropping her. Even knowing the truth about her, it pained him to hurt her.
She grunted in pain but refused to cry out. Instead, she grabbed his tunic front and tried to wrestle him to the ground. She swore at him, but her words were lost in the commotion. He clubbed her neck, and she went limp; he shoved her down.

Paedrin whirled on Tyrus, sucking in his breath and floating up. Then exhaling sharply, he came down on him like a stone. He did not know how it happened, but Tyrus was no longer there. Paedrin slammed into the floor, seeing only a flutter of robes as the Paracelsus shifted away. Suddenly dazzling tethers of energy struck Tyrus from three sides at once. The blasts should have torn him to pieces, but the magic was absorbed by a gemstone embedded in an amulet around his neck.

Paedrin was still in a crouch and launched himself at Tyrus again, amazed at the older man’s reflexes. He held up his hand and Paedrin saw a ring on his finger flash red. Paedrin remembered his earlier battle too late and found himself thrust violently backward, his own momentum suddenly reversing and spinning him.

“
Calvariae
!” Tyrus screamed in the Vaettir tongue. It was a word Paedrin had never heard before in context. It meant “place of the skull.” It was an ancient term for a graveyard.

The word contained power.

Deafening explosions rocked the chamber, stunning Paedrin. Multiple thunderclaps, cracking stones, searing light as sharp and ferocious as the commotion of a thousand steel blades clashing with stone. The Paracelsus surrounding them were thrown back as their amulets and rings all shattered.

For a brief moment, Paedrin’s mind was free. Then he heard the Arch-Rike begin to scream in fury in his head.

Spirits filled the prince’s manor, wisps of violet and purple light, mingling with sparks and glittering ribbons of magic. Annon realized what had happened instantly. Tyrus had broken the bonds of their servitude, freeing them all at once and killing many of the men who had worn their charms. There was a frenzy of emotion and voices as the spirits, recognizing their sudden freedom, exulted.

“They are yours, Druidecht,” Tyrus said to him, his grin triumphant. “They will serve you now.”

Annon felt the first ray of hope. He did not even need to use words, for they responded to his thoughts, his desperate need. A flurry of spirits launched at the Kishion, swarming him with stinging pricks of pain and searing color. A blast of lightning came from one, blowing aside a team of soldiers rushing against Khiara and the prince. The fury of their magic was unleashed on the soldiers from Kenatos. Stabbing, stinging, blistering magic began to weave through the air at them. Annon stared down at Hettie and sent several to revive her, healing her damaged bones and restoring her strength.

The buzz of magic filled the room as the spirits darted throughout the chamber, unleashing their power on the mortals who had trapped them for so long. They focused on the Arch-Rike, turning their savage fury on him. Annon watched in horror as the Arch-Rike withdrew a cluster of black sticks and his hands turned blue with flames, igniting them into brands. Smoke began to fill the air from the sticks, and spirits began dying.

“Come to me!” he shouted to his men. “The smoke will protect you! Cut them down! We still outnumber them! Kishion, now!”

Hettie placed herself in front of Tyrus again. Paedrin batted away the blinding lights that dodged and taunted him.

“Paedrin, please!” she begged. “Don’t make us kill you! Fight him! Fight him off!”

“Hettie, get away from him!” Annon warned. “Nizeera! Protect Tyrus!”

The Bhikhu had welts across his face, but he launched at Hettie again and found himself colliding with Prince Aran. The two faced off for only a moment before they fought, exchanging a dizzying series of blows and strikes, each one moving like twin whirlwinds. Feet, fists, elbows—all in a mesmerizing series of strike and defense, retaliation and leverage. Paedrin started to rise in the air, but some force drew him back down again, as if his abilities were being smothered somehow.

Annon watched the struggle from the corner of his eye, moving closer, gathering near Tyrus. He watched for his uncle to withdraw the Tay al-Ard again and wanted to be ready to disappear with him. It was their only hope of escape. If they did not touch his arm or the device, he would not be able to take them with him. Khiara saw his intent and moved closer as well, using the long reach of the staff to smash skulls and cripple knees. There were still too many soldiers and several Rikes leading them.

Spirits rushed this way and that, sending blasts of energy into the soldiers and Rikes of Seithrall, but the smoke from the firebrands was beginning to permeate the air. Soldiers grabbed them from the Arch-Rike and charged back into the room, waving them to spread the smoke. Most of the Paracelsus had risen from the original explosion, their chests smoking from where the amulets had been. Annon saw the death grimaces on their faces. Some were retching violently, unable to stand. Then he saw Erasmus, moving like a shadow from one Paracelsus to the next, dagger in hand, making sure each one was dead.

Behind you!

Nizeera growled in warning and launched at the Kishion, who appeared even closer now. The mosquito-like pests had not stalled him. He walked through their vapors without harm and closed in, bringing up a dagger to throw at Tyrus.

“Tyrus!” Annon warned, sending a blast of fire into the Kishion, knowing that it was hopeless, that not even Tyrus’s flames had stopped him before.

Paedrin let out a roar of pain.

The prince torqued Paedrin’s arm around, planting him face-first into the ground. The angle of his arm was excruciating. He tried to do a front roll to unwind his arm, but the prince dropped to one knee, making that impossible. His arm was locked and the rest of his body shrieked in pain.

“Cut off the ring!” Prince Aran said to Hettie. “Quickly!”

If they cut the ring, you will die. They will die. The ring will explode. Let them cut it. You will serve me best through your death.

Hettie’s look was one of agony. “I’m sorry,” she said, bringing the dagger up.

“No!” Paedrin said, his face contorting, his eyes wild with panic. “Don’t…cut…it!” He tried to free himself. He felt the tears squeeze through his lashes. He tried to speak, but the Arch-Rike clamped his mouth shut. He tasted blood on his tongue. His entire body shook with pain, but he could not free himself from the prince. They were going to die because of him. They would all be killed. He looked pleadingly in Hettie’s eyes.

She had tears in her eyes, but she took hold of his fingers and tried to pry them apart to get at the one with the ring.

Nizeera slashed at the Kishion, but he dodged her blows and planted a knife in her haunch. She shrieked in pain, scrabbling in spasms, and he shoved her away. He would be on them in moments, Annon realized. He tried to summon a spirit to heal her, but the hazy smoke was driving them to escape from the windows in droves. Annon saw the look of terror on Paedrin’s face. The ring would not come off easily. Even if they cut it, what would happen?

There had to be another way.

“Wait,” Annon said, rushing to her.

Tyrus shook his head in despair. “It’s a Kishion ring. He cannot remove it himself without dying. Cut it off.”

“No,” Annon said, his mind whirling. A spirit hovered near him, whispering. He tried to make out the words amidst the commotion.

Neodesha warns you. The spirit ring. Someone else must release him from the trap. He has not shed blood yet.

It all came together in his mind, a flash of insight. In the woods of Wayland, he had seen many rabbit snares left by trappers. A rabbit would race into it headfirst and it would cinch around its neck. The more it kicked and tried to flee, the tighter the noose became until it strangled. He had freed several rabbits caught in such snares. The memory came to him as a whisper from Neodesha far away, but spoken through his mind in the form of a memory. They were connected somehow. Her wisdom seeped into him. Paedrin could not remove the ring from himself. He was the rabbit in the snare. But someone else could if he had not killed anyone yet.

Annon pushed Hettie aside and grabbed the Kishion ring. With a hard twist, he pulled it off of Paedrin’s finger.

There was no explosion. It was yet another lie told by the Arch-Rike. The irony struck Paedrin bitterly. The Rikes and their rings were all a great lie. His imprisonment was a lie. His destiny as a Kishion was a lie.

Everyone stared at him, wide-eyed. Annon held the Kishion ring in his hand and jerked as if it scalded him. He dropped it to the floor.

The voice in Paedrin’s mind was gone. He would never allow it in again.

Paedrin’s eyes focused, a feeling of intense relief flooding him. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, Annon.”

Prince Aran released his hold and Paedrin straightened. He turned to the Quiet Kishion and launched at him like a spear shaft. He was free and it gave him energy and a sense of duty he had never felt before. Everything in Kenatos was a great lie. It was time for the truth to be shown.

The two were embroiled together. Paedrin observed everyone cluster around Tyrus, who withdrew the cylinder. “Gather round me!” Tyrus barked. “Hold my arm!”

Paedrin kicked and punched, using every technique of the Uddhava as well as his own violent passion. He wanted to humble this Kishion and teach him a lesson in pain. The Arch-Rike’s treasured protector. Paedrin fought fast and hard and gave it his best. Master Shivu would have been proud. In the Bhikhu temple, he had never met his equal. The duel only lasted a few moments. He was kicked in the chin and then thrown across the room, skidding until he struck the wall and blackness took over.