Son of Corse (The Raven Chronicles Book 2) (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

A
rwenna took one more glance behind her before the road caused the village to disappear from view entirely.  She knew she wouldn’t need to go back there again.

              “You okay?”  Joss asked, his voice quiet.

              Nodding, she turned back around.  “Yeah, I am.” She smiled, glancing at the heavy blacksmithing gloves he wore. “How are your hands holding up? Are the gloves Hugh gave you helping?”

              Joss shifted both reins into one hand, then tugged at the glove on his free hand with his teeth.  The new skin gleamed white, in stark contrast to the suntanned skin around it.  “A few new blisters is all.” He turned his hand over slowly.  “The calluses will come back, eventually.”

              “I do not vant to hear you vhine about them until they do, Brother.”  Y’Dürkie nudged her horse to the other side of Joss.  “You put that glove back on your hand, or I vill.” Arwenna smiled at Y’Dürkie’s threat.

              “Yes, ma’am!” Joss straightened his back and made a halfhearted attempt at a salute.  Arwenna fell apart in a fit of giggles as Y’Dürkie swatted Joss’ arm down.

              The grin still on her face, Arwenna watched Joss replace the glove on his hand.  “One of these days, she’s not going to care if you’re my husband and clock you good.  You know that, right?”

              Joss looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Methodically, he made sure the leather sat well on each of his fingers. “Eh, I’m tough.  I can take it,” he replied, loud enough for everyone to hear.

              Barek looked over his shoulder.  “Yes, yes you are,” he called back.

              The jovial mood sat well with Arwenna.  Joss wouldn’t say more about his and Barek’s ‘understanding’, but what tension had been between the pair of them no longer existed.  For now, she was content with that gift. 

              The mood shifted when Barek held up his hand, signaling them all to stop.  Mialee and Joss both dismounted and melted into the surrounding forest.  Hugh and Anthones moved into flanking positions on each side of Arwenna. The unmistakable hiss of Y’Dürkie’s sword leaving its sheath came from behind her.  Whatever Barek saw, they were ready for it.

              “Well met, Lord Barek! We hadn’t expected to find you again so soon!” A male voice called out.

              Arwenna relaxed as Barek dropped his arm.  “We ran into some friends and got delayed.  Mind if we join you?”  Barek called back.

              “Not at all!  I never disagree with someone who wants to pick a fight with my foes.”

              Barek looked back at Arwenna.  “Before we came here, we stopped in Almair and let the Duke know what was going on.  He decided we could use a little help, it seems.”  With that, he nudged his horse forward.

              The forest opened up to a small clearing, filled with an army.  Colorful pennants snapped in the breeze.  The midday sun glinted off the armored men.  Many still were moving through the woods on the far side, along with wagons and pack animals.

              Duke Ramberti sat high upon his horse, handing his helm off to a squire while another held the reins of his steed.  His blue eyes widened in amazement at seeing Arwenna.  “Good Lady, I’m very glad to see you alive and well.  When we were told of your circumstances…”

              Arwenna held up her hand to silence him.  “My circumstances have changed, and for the better, Your Grace.  But I fear your holdings may feel the brunt of what is yet to come.”

              Another horse and rider came up suddenly.  “Enough talk.  Arwenna, it’s good to see you again.  Ramberti, stop yammering out here.  The tents are being erected.”  The woman turned her horse back towards the army without a backwards glance.

              Smiling, Arwenna turned her attention back to the Duke. “I see you and your new wife are coming to terms. It was a bit tense at your wedding. Joss and I were wondering if she’d let you live long enough to say your vows.”

              Ramberti laughed, “Frances and I are still in ‘negotiations’ to a point.  I think her exact words were, ‘You may control RavenWier, but I control you!’  She’s rather adamant that I obey her outside of official business.”  He turned his horse.  “It’s one reason I love her.  She’s the perfect complement to me, has been since she beat me in our first duel in the arena.  I highly recommend we don’t keep Her Grace waiting.” 

              Arwenna and her companions fell into line behind Ramberti as he slowly wove his horse through the encampment springing up around them.

              A rotund man in battered plate mail stood at attention outside of the royal pavilion. His eyes widened at the sight of Arwenna.  He reached out to hold the reins of her horse as she dismounted.  She knew the look.  She’d seen the hero worship in the eyes of many over the last few years. Inwardly, she cringed.  She never thought of herself that way.  She merely did what needed to be done.

              The man went to kneel before her, but Arwenna gently put a hand on his elbow to stop him.  “Enough of that.  If my Father does not require you to kneel in His presence, I certainly don’t need you to.” 

              He smiled crookedly, “My apologies.  I was at best an indifferent student about the other Gods.  I just know the one I serve was rather adamant about me being certain I helped you in any way I could.”

              She noticed the crescent moon etched into his breastplate.  “Timbral must trust you a great deal, then…” her voice trailed off.

              “My apologies, Daughter.  My name is Klayde, I’m one of the chief clerics to Her Grace, Duchess Frances.” He stammered, clearly embarrassed about not introducing himself better.

              “Relax, Klayde. The war won’t be won or lost tonight.”  Arwenna placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, then followed Joss and the others into the ducal tent.

              The canvas pavilion was well lit.  Several liveried servants were at work placing furniture about the room while others dodged around them carrying trays of food.

              Barek was already lounging in a chair, talking animatedly with Ramberti. Arwenna stayed close to Joss as they wove through the mass of people moving about.

              “Over here, Arwenna.”  Frances called out.  Looking towards the sound, she saw the tall woman gesturing towards a padded bench along a wall.

              She moved over there, gratefully sitting on the cushioned surface.  “It’s not much, I know, but it’s better than a saddle,” Frances joked.

              Arwenna laughed.  “Most things are.” She watched the bustle of the room.  “I can’t say I’ve ever seen this many people in a tent before.”

              Frances chuckled, “One of the few perks of being married to Ramberti.  I’m not allowed to put up my own tent or sit on a chair without a cushion any more.  Some nonsense about being above such tasks.”

              “You miss it, don’t you?  Being able to take care of yourself?”

              Frances glanced away, “To a point, yes.”  She hesitated, glancing down at her hands.  “How do you do it, Arwenna? How do you manage to be one of the most powerful people in the world and live such a simple life?” 

              Arwenna heard the pleading undertone to Frances’ voice.  The woman had gone from relative obscurity to being crowned Duchess so quickly she’d had no time to really adjust, find her footing.  She thought carefully before answering.  “Who’s going to tell me I can’t do something, Frances?  If controlling more of the details is important to you, then do it.  There’s going to be a few shocked faces, that’s a given.  You’re smart, capable, and Ramberti adores you.  The people around you who claim to know better are looking out for their own interests, not yours.  You’re the Duchess now.  It’s time you reminded them who was in charge.”

              Watching her friend’s face closely, Arwenna saw her words hit home.  Frances was perfectly suited for Ramberti, in every possible way.  She just needed a gentle reminder that she was in charge, not the palace staff.

              Frances chuckled, “It’s really that simple, isn’t it?” She looked around the room, taking in how many people just hovered about.  Turning her attention back to Arwenna, she smiled.  “Thank you, Arwenna.  There will be some changes once we get home from this little skirmish of yours.”

              A sense of foreboding descended over Arwenna.  Whatever was to come, it wasn’t going to be anything close to a ‘little skirmish’ as Frances referred to it. 

              “Arwenna, Joss told us of the choice you were forced to make.” Arwenna pulled her attention back to Frances at the low tone to her voice.  “I hate to ask, but Timbral’s been on edge since He was told.  None of the Gods would risk such a thing coming about. Did Corse…?” She trailed off, unable to finish the question.

              Arwenna shook her head in response.  “Corse didn’t have a chance to do anything after I agreed.  Senyan saw to that.  Corse now sits in a gem on Bohrs’ sword, the counterpart to Y’Dürkie’s.  Senyan’s the one in control now.”

              Frances’s brow furrowed in puzzlement.  “But, does it work that way?  With Corse trapped, won’t that weaken Senyan’s powers?”

              “Not initially, but he’s made it so we can destroy Corse now.  And once that happens…”

              “Then Senyan’s own powers will severely weaken.”  Frances stared at Arwenna in amazement.  “What can I do to help?”  She laughed.  “Not that I could do much.  Your magic works so differently than the rest of us.  I barely have enough ability to light a candle.”

              Arwenna joined in her friend’s amusement.  “It’s taken some getting used to.  Silas was a stickler for the rules, so I never strayed much.  There’s a comfort in doing the sigils, asking for the power and having it granted.  Once Hauk found me again and the blocks that had been put in place to keep me from accessing all that I could channel were removed, everything changed.  I don’t have to do what everyone else has to.  There are times having the shortcuts have been great.  But I still find my fingers trying to trace the sigils in the air.”  She shrugged, a wistful sigh escaping her. 

              Frances gently squeezed her hand.  “Sometimes you wish none of this ever happened.”

              “I think we all wish for that some days.  Even Senyan.”

              Arwenna looked across the tent to where Barek, Joss, and the others sat in a circle around Ramberti.  Given the way they were gesturing, they were making battle plans.  “Do me a favor, Frances. Tell your men to keep a clear path between me, my friends, Bohrs and Senyan.  We know what to do, and how to do it.  There will be casualties, but I don’t need to weave my way through an entire army trying to keep me safe in order to do my job.”

              The sound of the tent flap being flung aside caused Arwenna to start. Several guards came rushing in, weapons drawn.  “We’ve got incoming!  Take cover!”

              She dove for cover under the closest table as a flaming ball tore through the canvas of the tent.  She felt a pair of leather clad hands grab at her, urging her forward. Clasping Joss’ wrists, she scrambled to get her feet under her again.  Angry red flames consumed the canvas with a vengeance. Black smoke billowed around them, competing with the fire for dominance.  Joss cradled her face in his hands, “Are you okay?”

              She nodded. Using one hand to cover her mouth from the acrid smoke, she and Joss hastily wove their way past shattered furniture, flaming canvas, and dead bodies to reach the outside.

              Her lungs welcomed the cleaner air with enthusiasm.  Barek and Y’Dürkie rushed over, their faces a mixture of worry and relief.  Arwenna held up a hand as she coughed out, “We’re fine.  Who’d we lose in there?”

              “A few of Ramberti’s men, from the looks of it.”  Barek scanned the area behind her.  “They were able to load the catapults in a cavern behind the rock face to the east.  The Delvers must’ve worked to push them through the barrier and fire at us.”  Barek cursed, his shock at being surprised evident.

              Arwenna nodded.  “It doesn’t matter how they did it, Barek.  Senyan’s got his army on top of us now.  We’ve lost what little advantage we had.”  She straightened up, “Ramberti’s troops will take out the catapults before we lose more people.  I’m hoping they’ll break and run once Bohrs and Senyan are neutralized.”

              Another ball of fire soared over their head, crashing into a group of tents several yards away.  “Barek, we can’t stay here all day and talk.  Everyone knows what needs to be done,” Joss said, his voice calm but insistent.

              A shadow crossed Barek’s face.  “You’re right, Joss.  Let’s get to work.”

              He darted past Arwenna before she could say a word, shouting for soldiers to follow him as he ran towards one of the catapults.

              “I’ll find you when this is over.” Joss placed a gentle kiss on her head.  “Stay with Y’Dürkie, do what you have to do. This has to end.”  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I love you.  Never forget that.” He kissed her again, then ran off after Barek.

              “Come, Arvenna.  Ve stick together and find Bohrs first. Tiren vants him dead.”  Y’Dürkie grabbed her elbow, urging her forward.