Rebel Spring (10 page)

In mere moments, three dozen Paelsians joined the fight in an attempt to kill as many guards as they could—with rocks, with chisels, with their bare hands and teeth. Other slaves stood back, looking on with fear and shock etched into their faces.

A swarm of new guards approached at a run. One raised his arm to bring his whip down upon a young boy, but then the guard staggered backward. With wide eyes, the guard looked down at the arrow that had sunk into his chest, just below his shoulder. His gaze shot to Lysandra.

When he opened his mouth to yell, to point her out to the other guards as a target, another arrow impaled his right eye socket. He fell to the ground without uttering a sound.

The first arrow had been from Lysandra’s bow. Her already callused fingers felt raw from the speed with which she’d nocked an arrow and let it fly.

But the second . . .

Brion and Jonas swiftly moved toward her. Jonas let free another arrow aimed toward an approaching guard, catching him in the throat.

“Get her,” Jonas barked.

Brion didn’t argue. He grabbed Lysandra and threw her over his shoulder. She was shaking violently and couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t see straight.

She fought him, digging her fingernails into his back. “Let me go! I need to help!”

“And let you get yourself killed?” Brion snarled. “Not a chance.”

Vara had walked right into that without thinking twice. There had been no organized plan of revolt. The girl was mad. The death she’d seen in the village, and whatever nameless abuses she’d suffered here . . . they had driven her insane.

Jonas led the way, making use of his jeweled dagger, slashing his way past any guard who stepped into their path so the three could make it back to the tree line. Once cloaked by the branches, Brion finally put Lysandra back down on the ground.

She stared back at the camp with horror. She couldn’t count the bodies that now lay bleeding and broken and surrounded by masses of chaotic, rioting slaves and the guards attempting to restore order. Thirty, forty . . . maybe more had been slaughtered in mere moments. Both Paelsian and Limerian, their blood now soaked into the parched ground.

It was a massacre.

“Are you all right?” Brion was shouting at her, but his voice sounded a million miles away. “Lys, listen to me!
Are you all right?
”

Finally she looked at him, into his blue eyes, which held deep concern for her. “I was trying to help,” she said faintly.

Relief flashed through his gaze, followed by anger. “You had me worried. Do
not
do that to me again, you hear me?”

A breeze brushed against her face when before the air had been still. Brion felt it too, and looked up. A roaring noise approached, growing louder by the second.

“What is that?” he asked.

Something strange and unexpected now moved across the land, pulling up dust and debris, wood and rock, as it gathered strength. Something that had formed out of nothing so suddenly that no one had noticed until it fully hit.

A tornado. A swirling cylindrical mass that twisted its way toward the road camp. The winds picked up, blowing Lysandra’s hair back from her face, making it impossible to speak. The noise was so loud now that they wouldn’t be able to hear each other anyway. Dark storm clouds quickly gathered, blocking out the sunlight within seconds.

Slaves and guards alike ran to escape its path, but some were swept up into it, disappearing for moments before being thrown free, like broken dolls as they hit the ground.

“It’s coming!” Jonas shouted. Brion grabbed her hand and they started running but didn’t get far before the force of the approaching wind blew them off their feet. Evergreens were pulled up out of the ground by their roots and hurled through the air like arrows.

The roar of the tornado was like thunder—only more deafening. More terrifying. Lysandra couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t think. Something whipped past her face, cutting her cheek, and she felt the warmth of her blood. She found she now clutched on to both Brion and Jonas for fear of being picked up and carried away by the cyclone. For a moment, she was certain that would happen.

Nearby, a thirty-foot-tall tree rose up from the earth and crashed down to the forest floor, missing them by only a few paces. She stared at the tree over Brion’s shoulder, knowing it could have crushed them to death.

It felt as if it had gone on forever, but finally the tornado grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely just before it fully reached them. The thunderous noise faded to nothing. A few more moments of eerie stillness stretched out before the birds resumed chirping and the insects began to buzz. Cries could be heard from the camp a hundred paces away as all present reeled from the disaster.

A pair of guards had spotted them through the felled trees and had broken away from the rest of the pandemonium. They stormed into the forest line, swords drawn.

“We need to move,” Jonas growled. “Now.”

Clutching tightly to her bow, Lysandra shakily got to her feet and tore after Brion and Jonas through the forest, her boots sinking into the loose earth and tangled roots.

“Halt in the name of the king!” one guard shouted.

A branch whipped Lysandra in the face, and she tasted the coppery tang of her own blood as she shoved it away. They couldn’t slow. After what had happened at the road, these guards would cut their throats immediately, assuming them to be slaves who’d escaped during the disaster.

The shouts of the guards faded, but the three continued to run for as long as they could before finally slowing.

“What happened?” Brion said, his expression strained. “What just happened back there?”

Lysandra found she was shaking. “What part?”

“All of it. That tornado . . .”

“A coincidence,” Jonas said. He was winded but kept striding quickly.

“Too strange to be a coincidence.” Brion scratched the back of his head. “Buckets of blood spilled results in something like that? Out of nowhere? My grandmother used to tell me stories . . . about witches, about blood magic . . .”

Lysandra looked at him, her eyes widening. “I saw a witch like that just before my village was attacked. She was using blood magic to try to see the future, I think. My brother called her an Oldling, one who worshipped the elements. She—she’s dead now. Like so many of the others.”

“I don’t believe in magic,” Jonas said firmly. “Belief in magic is what has kept our people down for centuries, what keeps them from fighting back like they should. What I believe in is what I can see with my eyes. Paelsian weather has never been predictable. That’s all that was. But as far as the camp—I’ve now seen what the king has done. You were right, Lysandra.”

After what she’d experienced, Jonas’s confirmation was small comfort. “As long as the king lives, the road continues to be built and our people will die every day.”

“We need something to use against the king.” Jonas’s brow furrowed. “Something that holds value for him that can help shift some power to our rebels. Something that will give us a chance to hurt him, to slow him down so we’ll have the chance to stop him completely.” He was quiet for a moment, but then his brown eyes met hers. “I know just the thing.”

She stared at him for a moment. “What?”

“Not what. Who. Princess Cleiona.”

“Her again? What about her this time?”

“No, listen. I don’t think she’ll always be an asset to the king, but she is now, particularly when it comes to his new grasp on Auranos. If she wasn’t worth something to him, something very important, she’d already be dead. That makes her valuable to us.” His lips thinned. “After what I’ve seen here today, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to free our people from his tyranny.”

“You mean to assassinate the princess to send a message to the king,” Lysandra said, her voice breathless.

“Jonas . . .” Brion looked uneasy at the suggestion. “Are you sure you want to do something like that?”

“I’m not planning to assassinate her.” Jonas met each of their gazes in turn. “I’m planning to kidnap her.”

T
he king sensed her presence before she came into view in the stark, windowless room, which had now become familiar territory to him. “You’ve kept me waiting far too long.”

He didn’t try to keep the edge of impatience from his voice.

“Apologies, your majesty,” she soothed. “Please tell me I was worth the wait.”

He swiveled on his heels to let his gaze sweep over her. She wore a gown that seemed spun from pure gold. Perfect skin, long golden hair, eyes like flawless sapphires. She was the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, without exception.

His last mistress had been a mortal witch. This one was an immortal goddess. Or as close to it as he’d ever known.

“Beautiful Melenia,” he said. “I could wait an eternity to be blessed with just one more dream about you.”

It felt unseemly to lie to a near-goddess, but women always responded to such silvery words.

“But this is more than just a dream. So much more.” A smile played on her lush mouth and his gaze lingered there for a moment. Tonight, however, his need for information trumped anything else he might desire from this ethereal creature.

“I know you’re real. That what you say to me is real. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t consider doing what you’ve asked of me.”

“Of course not.” Melenia slowly slid her hand up his arm, then across his chest. “And you’ve done so well with my road, my king. But . . . there’s a problem.”

“Problem?”

“Time grows short. You must move more quickly to complete it.”

A rope of frustration tightened within him, but he didn’t let it show on his face. “The road is being built with mortal hands, as many as I can gather. It’s being constructed as quickly as possible.”

Something flashed in her blue eyes, something unpleasant, but then it disappeared and a smile flickered on her lips again. “Of course it is. I have received some progress reports from Xanthus as well. But the man rarely sleeps, so it is sometimes difficult to connect with him. It’s a good thing that I trust him implicitly.”

Xanthus. The engineer responsible for mapping out the road and for leading the construction. He was essential to the process, skilled, smart, and dedicated.

Dedicated to Melenia.

Xanthus was an exiled Watcher whom this beautiful immortal had at her command. The earth magic he still possessed after two decades of living in the mortal world was integral to the Imperial Road in ways that Melenia had yet to share.

“Apologies for my impatience,” Melenia said softly, “but I’ve already waited so long. And now that everything is beginning to align and I see the proof of our actions, I know there is only a small window of opportunity for us to get what we want.”

“Proof. What proof do you have?”

“Signs, my king. Incredible signs that all is aligning as it needs to. Pieces clicking into place exactly as they should. Words spoken at just the right time; connections made; whispers overheard by eager ears.” Her smile grew to compensate for her cryptic words. “What might seem like a series of coincidences is but perfect timing to an immortal. A sign that all is as it should be.”

Her beautiful smile didn’t begin to temper his frustration. “I need more, Melenia. Tell me more.”

She brushed past him. “I’ll do better than tell you. I will show you, my king, what you need to see to give you incentive to hasten progress.”

He turned to see a round table appear on the black marble floor in the center of the large room. He moved to it to look at the map of Mytica on its surface. It was a familiar sight, since he had a map just like this in the Limerian palace.

Melenia slid her slender index finger sensually along the western coastline as if she were caressing a lover. “It’s all yours. Every mile. Every mortal. Mytica belongs to you now, even without more magic than you already have at your disposal.”

The mention of magic drew his attention back to her flawless face. “When will she wake?”

He had used Lucia’s magic to defeat King Corvin before Melenia had shown herself to him. Before she’d drawn him into a dream like this and explained who she was and what she wanted from him. She needed a powerful mortal’s assistance, and out of everyone in the world, she’d chosen him.

“The young sorceress will wake when it’s time,” Melenia replied.

Gaius smashed his fist down against the map. “Not good enough. I need her to be awake now. A promise of future magic is no good to me when I have magic already in my possession but currently useless.”

Many would cower in the face of his rage—those who possessed intelligence and self-preservation, that was.

Melenia was different. She feared nothing. “Do you think I will bow down before you and beg for your forgiveness, your majesty?” She continued to smile, as if he amused her. It both infuriated and intrigued him that she should show such disrespect. Not even Sabina had been so bold. “I bow before no one.”

“Those who don’t bow before me die.”

“I’m immortal—the first of my kind. I’ve lived for more than four thousand years. I’ve seen this world change and evolve and grow from its very infancy. I’ve seen the birth of mortal kings and their inevitable deaths so many times it’s become tedious. That is, until you. Shall I tell you a secret—the reason why I first came to you with my plans? It was not only a lovely coincidence, my king.”

“You said this road would lead to the Kindred; that its location would be revealed to me in the Forbidden Mountains and that Xanthus would keep me informed on everything.” Frustration welled within him, swirling like lava. “But I’ve received no word of anything found in the mountains so far. No clues, no signs. Where do we look? I need more proof that what you’re telling me is true, Melenia.”

“And I need you to trust me.”

“I trust no one.”

“No one? Not even your son, who you believe is so much like you?”

“He’s still young. He has much more to prove to me before he fully earns my trust.”

“And yet you told him about me.”

“I told him only that I had a new advisor. He’s not ready to believe anything more. Not yet. But if there is one I would tell about you, about everything, it would be him.”

This beautiful immortal could have spies listening in on his private conversations. Her kind could take the form of hawks to watch over mortals. But not Melenia herself. She was trapped in the Sanctuary, as all the eldest Watchers were. There was no escape for her, no contact with the mortal world, except in dreams like this.

“Your adopted daughter will wake, but not yet. She is integral to my plan, to your future. To your . . . prophecy.”

He stilled. “
My
prophecy?”

Melenia nodded, sliding her cool, light touch over the line of his jaw. “Yes. It is one I saw for myself, so I know it is true.”

“What prophecy?”

When she replied with only a mischievous smile, he took hold of her arms tight enough to make any normal woman flinch.

“Tell me,” he growled.

“Let go of me and I shall, my king.”

The desire to hurt her, to cause her pain and force her to speak truths, was strong, but he knew it wouldn’t help. She looked so delicate in stature, as if her bones might snap like twigs with the merest amount of pressure. But she wasn’t delicate—just the opposite. He had to remember that. If he mistreated her, in insult or action, she might never give him audience again.

He wasn’t willing to risk that. Not yet.

He released her.

“The prophecy is that there would one day be a mortal king who would rule over this kingdom.” She brushed her hand against the map of Mytica again. “One who would discover a great magic that would turn him into an immortal god. That he would rule his kingdom with a goddess as his queen. And that they would in turn rule everything, this world and all that lies beyond, and everyone, be they mortal or immortal, would bow before them. It is you, my king. And I shall be your queen.”

The glowing lines of the map of Mytica had spread, sliding down the table and running along the black marble floor like lines of fire, lighting the edges of other lands, other kingdoms and empires far across the sea and beyond. Gaius followed its path until it disappeared from view in the darkness surrounding them.

“All of it,” he breathed.

“You are destined to be an immortal god. No one has ever had more power than what you will have. The universe itself will cower in fear before you.”

He nodded slowly. Her words were honey, so sweet and so true. They fed something deep inside him that had hungered for far too long. “I knew this. I knew I was destined for greatness.”

“Yes. So now you see, you must increase the speed of the road so we can find that magic. The blood spilled in Auranos, in Paelsia, the effect it had upon the elements . . . it’s the first sign I’ve been waiting for.”

“Of what?”

“That it’s working.” Her eyes practically glowed, just like the endless map that surrounded them in its sea of black. “We’re finding them, together.”

“The Kindred.” He found his mouth had gone dry. Could he really be so close? “You know where the crystals are hidden.”

“Their location has been shielded all this time from others of my kind. But it’s time. Here, now. And I am certain that you are the one who will bring it all into being.”

His breathing had increased; his heart pounded harder than it had in recent memory. This was what he wanted more than anything. “I’m ready to do whatever it takes.”

She nodded. “Blood is essential to all of this. It must continue to spill. Many will die; many
must
die for us to succeed.”

“Then many
will
die . . . my queen. As many as it takes.”

“I hope you mean that.”

“I do.”

Melenia had told him everything he needed to know, everything he’d already known on some level. He was born for a greatness beyond that which he’d already achieved. He was born to be an immortal god, the most powerful king the universe had ever known. Everything and everyone would bow before him.

Eternally.