Heirs of the Demon King: Uprising (16 page)

‘Very true, boy, but a swordsman does not learn his skill through study alone. He masters his art by
doing
.’ In his heart he wanted his son to make an argument so compelling that he had no choice but to agree, but he knew the prince too well. Young Richard would not be able to resist the surprise that was going to be offered.

It was the surprise that came
after
which the King dreaded. ‘Are you suggesting that I should perform magic?’ The prince offered no change of expression and his voice was neutral. His deadpan response did not impress the King, who scowled at him.

‘Don’t be obtuse, boy. You know what I mean. Experience tempers a man, gives him wisdom. You should witness magic for yourself. Feel its power. In so doing, you will better understand the wickedness of its nature.’

The prince gave a huge sigh and King Richard felt a twinge of annoyance, despite his desire to lose the argument. He did not like the sting of defiance, even from his own son.

‘But Father, what of the banquet? The dance? There are already so many plans. Father, I don’t really want to spend my birthday in a field staring at some filthy magi grubbing through the dirt for worms to sacrifice.’

‘It is not a field, Richard,’ the King replied. ‘It is the oldest site of power in this country. Perhaps even the world. There will be a gathering of magi unlike any that has happened in England since the birth of our line.’

‘So why not simply have the Inquisition remove them before it can happen? Why wait until my birthday to have it done?’ Now he
was
whining.

The King gave his son a brittle smile before he paced the length of the room and back. ‘Because they only gather there on that day, and it will be easier by far than hunting them individually. And, Richard’—the King drew a deep breath and cursed himself inwardly—‘because Isaac Bonnington assures me that the
Lionheart
will be completed by then.’

The prince’s eyes widened. ‘You want me to command the
Lionheart
during the attack?’

King Richard nodded, and for a moment did not trust himself to say anything. He felt a lump in his throat. ‘Yes,’ he replied huskily. Then he cleared his throat and continued with more certainly. ‘Yes. I want you to witness the truth of magic for yourself, and I want you with me in the
Lionheart
.’

Prince Richard gave his father a huge smile. ‘Then the King shall have what he wishes.’ His insouciant air was frustrating at times. What the King would have given to have been so free from care.

Richard’s heart sank like a stone at the boy’s delight. He had known his son would not be able to resist the offer. He had lied about the magi. There had been no magic in Salisbury since the rise of the Inquisition. All that would be there would be his son. In a powerful stone circle. At dusk.

On the day of the solstice.

The Alps

Switzerland

M
ATHIAS’S BRIEF INDISPOSITION
had more or less passed, come the dawn of the next day, and he found himself subject to gentle teasing from Tagan and slightly less gentle mockery from Warin. They had resumed their journey, this time in human form, at a slower pace. He bore the teasing with good grace, occasionally laughing along mechanically, but without much humour. Tagan walked beside him, her fingers laced through his, and did her best to lift his flagging spirits.

Warin stomped ahead of the pair, occasionally muttering under his breath. His mood, although sour, was less aggressive than it had been. Tagan watched his stoop-shouldered back and her eyes grew thoughtful. There was a new urgency to the mage’s manner and while he seemed happy enough to walk, she got the sense that if it were not for Mathias’s health, he would have been running.

‘Where are we heading?’ The question came from Mathias—the first time he had spoken since they had left the cave—and Tagan started in surprise. The narrow cliff path called for concentration and careful steps. None of them had any great urge to step badly and ride the scree to the bottom.

‘A lake. Big one,’ Warin said over his shoulder. ‘De Luna will meet us there.’

‘Can he shapeshift as well?’ Mathias was curious. Warin shrugged.

‘After a fashion, yes. His is the power of the oceans, the seas and the rains.’

‘He can turn into a fish?’

‘No, not precisely.’ Warin stopped to look at Mathias. ‘You will see soon enough. Now come along.’

Genoa

Italy

T
HE WINDS HAD
been fine and the tides favourable, but then, de Luna reflected, they always were. He stood on the prow of the
Hermione
as it slipped into Genoa harbour and he smiled, Mahón already forgotten. He had no doubt that there would be new opportunities to make a little coin, renew a few old friendships and make some new conquests. A gust of wind plucked at his hat and he laughed. Then something arcane tickled his senses and the smile fell from his face.

A single leaf floated on the breeze and Geraldo snatched it out of the air like a striking snake. He turned it over in his hands and examined its surface, then he pressed it to his face and inhaled its scent. Crisp and fresh. Clean, mountain pine.

‘Red,’ de Luna breathed. He looked over his shoulder at his first mate. ‘Take her in, Tohias. We will unload any who wish to leave here, take on board supplies and then head straight back out to sea. Make it quick. As quick as you can.’

‘Captain?’ Tohias looked utterly mystified. They had not even dropped anchor yet.

‘Back out to sea, Tohias. Be ready to receive guests.’ With that, he dived over the side and into the harbour.

He didn’t make a splash when he hit the water, simply vanishing beneath the waves and melting into their embrace. He became a shadow beneath the crystal surface, a liquid blur that could only be glimpsed out of the corner of the eye. The kind of shape that could be mistaken for a dolphin, perhaps. A fleeting vision that gave rise to legends of merfolk.

For Giraldo the change represented the ultimate in freedom, the rare chance to be completely at one with his magic. He felt the colossal tug of the tide, the caress of the wind across the surface, the hidden currents lurking in the unknown depths, and he revelled in it. The power of the ocean was unlike any other in this world. He flashed through the water, escaping the harbour, and flowed upstream at the speed of thought. In his mind’s eye he saw a huge bow-shaped lake flanked by mountains, a place he had not visited for many years.

The river narrowed steadily and became a stream. He raced through the alpine foothills, leaping up waterfalls and through deep, underground ways, ever higher, until he could go no further. He scattered shoals of fish, which reformed behind him, unfazed by his passing.

His essence erupted from a spring high on the mountains and became snow, the shock of his arrival sending an avalanche down the slopes to bury forests and valleys below. He briefly emerged from the ice as he crested the mountains, his lower body nothing more than a whirling blizzard. He laughed with the release of it all and his voice echoed around the peaks. Then he was beneath the surface again, nothing more than a ripple that plunged toward its destination.

Lake Geneva

Switzerland

‘I
T’S BEAUTIFUL!’
T
AGAN
exclaimed as they descended a grassy hillside. The lake was huge, and even from their elevated position they could not see its entire length. ‘How big is it?’

‘Many leagues.’ Warin replied gruffly. He glanced over his shoulder at her and nodded. ‘But do not worry, we do not have to walk around. De Luna should be here.’

The Shapeshifter was peering past her, as if looking for something. Tagan glanced over her shoulder, but only grass and the dark crags lay above them. ‘What are you looking for?’ Her curiosity was piqued.

Warin turned back toward the lake and shrugged. ‘Nothing,’ he muttered absently. ‘I thought I heard something. But clearly I did not.’ For whatever reason, this seemed to irritate him.

After a day of travel and another night of rest, Mathias had recovered considerably. Warin produced a pouch of herbs from somewhere within his leathers and brewed them up over one of Tagan’s fires. It had smelled terrible and tasted worse, but the young man began to feel better within minutes of drinking it

‘I assume you know where we are meeting him, then?’ Mathias said with a grin. ‘Because if it was just “the big lake,” then we’re going to be looking for each other for a while.’

Warin grunted in what Mathias chose to believe was amusement rather than irritation. ‘You don’t need to worry, he will find us.’

Since the night in the cave, the Shapeshifter had been surly and withdrawn, or as Mathias had said to Tagan the previous night,
more
surly and withdrawn. She smiled, but she didn’t laugh, and Mathias was forced to admit that something was obviously bothering their curious new friend.

They continued down the hillside in silence until they reached the lake shore, a quiet pebble beach disturbed only by the gentle lap of waves and the wind in the trees. The mountains beyond the expanse of water were massive, their tops draped with snow and their steep flanks dark and rugged.

‘Did you really mean for us to cross them?’ Mathias said, gesturing to the cyclopean peaks.

Warin nodded. ‘Yes. The sea lies beyond them.’

‘But now we won’t have to because your friend is coming to get us?’

‘Yes, that is what I hope.’

‘You hope?’

Warin turned to Mathias with a look of exasperation on his face. ‘Yes, I hope. I sent him a message that I want to meet him, but I don’t know how long it will take. He travels the seas and the seas spread far. If he is close, then perhaps he will come soon. If not, then we wait.’ He shifted uncomfortably and looked up the hillside again. ‘For as long as we can.’

‘But you don’t want to wait, do you?’ Mathias said. He picked up a stone and threw it out over the lake. It arced through the air and then plunged into the water with a satisfying splash.

What happened next brought a small scream to Tagan’s lips. A shimmering figure rose from the mirrored surface of the lake; the unmistakable shape of a man, tall and well-built. The shape was completely translucent, and she could make out the trees and mountains behind it. She clutched onto Mathias’s arm and stumbled backwards.

The water man took a few steps forward until its feet met the lake shore and then began to fill in, assuming colour and texture. Transparency became flesh and skin, and even clothes shimmered into being. The process travelled upwards, beginning at the legs and ending with the face and head. A handsome face, Tagan could not help but notice from her vantage point behind Mathias. The face broke into a huge grin and Giraldo de Luna, the Pirate King, caught Warin the Red, the Shapeshifter up in an exuberant hug.

‘Red!’ There was genuine pleasure in the greeting and Tagan smiled a little at the embarrassed expression on Warin’s face. ‘You old dog, how have you been? How many years has it been?’

‘Not nearly enough,’ came the curt reply, but none of them missed the affection in the brown eyes, or could ignore the warmth in the tone. ‘You’re still as ugly as ever, I see.’ He wormed his way out of Giraldo’s embrace. ‘Glad you could spare the time in your busy life to join us.’

‘Wouldn’t have missed this for all the gold in the world. An invitation from my old friend Red! I knew it was coming, and when I got your leaf... how could I refuse?’

Warin shook his head. ‘You always were an odd one.’

‘Are you going to introduce me?’ Giraldo’s eyes had flicked to Mathias briefly and lingered just that little bit longer than would normally be considered appropriate on Tagan. ‘These are two fine young people you bring with you.’

‘The boy is Mathias. The girl is Tagan. His betrothed.’ Warin said the word sternly.

‘Betrothed? Ah, my disappointment knows no bounds.’ Giraldo stepped forward and took Tagan’s hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and kissed it gently. Her face instantly went bright pink and an unexpected giggle left her. Giraldo held onto her hand for a little longer. ‘I smell the flame on this one, Red. Is she...?’

‘Blessed with the spark, yes. Now let go of her hand. You’re making the girl uncomfortable.’

Tagan opened her mouth to say that it was all right, but no words came out. Instead, she took her hand from Giraldo and put it awkwardly behind her back. She suddenly wanted to giggle, and she was not normally much given to giggling.

Mathias watched the entire exchange with a strange expression on his face. Giraldo examined Tagan with indulgent amusement for a moment or two longer, but when he turned to Mathias, the levity was gone, replaced by something entirely more serious.

‘It is a great and grave thing you do.’ Giraldo studied Mathias, taking in everything about the young man in that intense glance.

‘How... you know about our journey? Has Warin already...’

‘Journey?’ Geraldo’s face split into a grin again. ‘I was talking about marriage. It is a very serious thing, yes? You must promise to make her very happy, Mathias...?’

‘Mathias Eynon,’ he said and rolled his eyes. He kept his voice pleasant, but the distrust was apparent. ‘And you are Giraldo de Luna. Your reputation precedes you, sir.’

The Pirate King burst into a fit of infectious, raucous laughter. Mathias couldn’t help the slight smile that tweaked the edges of his lips. Eventually the laugh settled down and he wiped eyes that were completely dry.

‘My reputation? What have you been telling the boy, Red?’

‘The truth,’ was the response. ‘What else do I know?’ The Shapeshifter’s words had silenced the pirate, although he still chuckled quietly as he studied Mathias thoughtfully.

‘You know,’ he said, ‘you remind me of somebody I once knew when I was young. He was a good man. Maybe even a great man; and I don’t know many of them, to be sure.’

Further discussion was cut off by the thunderous report of hooves. Mathias turned and looked back up the hillside they had only recently descended to see a group of horsemen bearing down on them. Warin cursed quietly and Tagan glared at him.