The Curse in the Gift (The Last Whisper of the Gods Book 2) (36 page)

Then Sorial, who was regaining his senses, saw something that caused his heart to quail. Alicia, unnoticed by the combatants, was tentatively approaching Sangaska from behind. He guessed that she was going to try something magical but, to do so, she was putting her life in jeopardy.  If Sangaska noticed her...

Despite the frenzy of the battle, Carannan saw what his daughter was attempting and, in an effort to shield her from possible discovery, he went on the offensive. What was intended as a distraction bore substantive fruits. Unprepared for the duke’s change of tactics, Sangaska took an unbalanced step backward, slamming into a closing Alicia and nearly knocking her to the ground. He never got a chance to discover what was behind him, however. The moment Alicia’s finger came in contact with the bare flesh of his forearm - a delicate and seemingly accidental touch - he let out a horrible gurgling noise. The sword dropped from his hand and his flesh began to shrivel up like something left out too long in the sun. His form collapsed in on itself, the moisture within evaporating in an instant. His desiccated husk fell to the floor alongside the corpse of the man he had just hacked to death.

Sorial struggled to a sitting position, his head throbbing. There was chaos all around. Carannan and Queen Myselene checked Toranim’s body despite knowing the situation to be hopeless. Below, on the tournament field, a collapsed King Azarak was being attended to by numerous healers.

Sorial’s eyes met Alicia’s. This was the first time she had taken a life with or without using her powers. She had seen death but now the blood was on her trembling hands. She had done what was necessary to save him and her father, but he knew from personal experience that killing was never an easy thing regardless of the reason.

He wanted to go to her to offer comfort and support but a sudden wave of dizziness rolled over him, making the idea of rising to a standing position seem too herculean an effort to be contemplated. Moments later, he lost consciousness and it ended up being Alicia caring for him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: THE HEALING OF WOUNDS

Sorial recalled the first time he had killed a man. He had been 15 years old when Maraman sent assassins to hunt him at the stable. Despite his heroic and admittedly lucky reduction of their number, Warburm had ultimately saved the day and his life. Afterward, Sorial had experienced no pangs of conscience and certainly no regrets, but he had been bred in a different, less pampered environment than his bride.

The night after The Challenge, she wept. It was the longest and hardest he had ever seen her cry, a more wrenching display than on the long-ago night when she had fled to him after being set upon in the streets. Some of it was exhaustion. Some was relief. But there was also an element of sadness and regret. Once lost, innocence, no matter how illusory, couldn’t be regained. No amount of holding her close and stroking her hair could soothe her. In the outcome of events of the past day, she had been as much a factor as he. She had saved lives in the royal box by killing the enraged Sangaska and had repaired the most severe damage done to King Azarak’s shoulder.

The other hero was Chancellor Gorton, who had emerged from the shadows to calm the seething army of Obis when it appeared they might attack in retaliation for the “irregularities” surrounding Grushik’s loss and the subsequent “murder” of Sangaska. Gorton had caucused with Captain Greeg and negotiated a settlement that would include future reparations. A no-nonsense military man who fundamentally denied the concept of magic as more than a subject for fables, Greeg believed Grushik had legitimately lost The Challenge and Sangaska had broken faith by attacking. If he had noticed the quaking of the ground, his rational mind had rejected it. As a result, it had taken little effort on Gorton’s part to convince Greeg that the army of Obis should depart as soon as possible, minus the 500 men bequeathed to Queen Myselene as part of the betrothal agreement.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Sorial once Alicia’s tears had subsided. They were lying together in bed with his good arm wrapped protectively around her and two fingers absently stroking her cheek.

“It’s hard to explain,” she began with a deep sigh. “It didn’t seem like me. When we were at the beach and I used magic, it was exhilarating, orgasmic. But this thing I did to Sangaska, it felt wrong.”

Sorial was no stranger to using magic to kill: in Havenham, on the road to Vantok, and at Ibitsal. He had slain his own father. And, though Azarak had dealt the fatal blow, he had been complicit in Grushik’s death. To Sorial, magic was just another weapon, more versatile and deadly than those made of wood and steel. He might not understand how to win a battle with another wizard but he could use his powers effectively against the unmagical. Until today, Alicia had never held a sword or been in a situation where it was kill or be killed.

“You did what you had to do,” said Sorial. Then curiosity got the better of him. “What
exactly
did you do?”

“It was instinctive, like healing but in reverse. I dried up all the water in his body. I had to touch him to do it; it doesn’t work at a distance, or at least I don’t know how to make it work at a distance.”

Based on Azarak’s description of Rangarak’s death, what Alicia had done to Sangaska sounded similar. Rangarak’s boiling blood had cooked him from the inside. Sangaska’s evaporating blood left him a dried-out husk. The worrying thing was that The Lord of Fire had done his deed from a distance, although Sorial didn’t know how far away he had been at the time. It raised questions about his limitations and why he had chosen the Iron King instead of another target. Why not Azarak or Sorial? Was Rangarak a victim of choice or one of opportunity?

It also caused Sorial to wonder if there was an analog available to him. Could he accomplish with earth something similar to what Alicia had done with water?

“I’ll be all right,” Alicia said. “Give me a day or two. This is all new and it’ll take some time to become accustomed to it. I have to recognize I’m not the same person I used to be.”

Sorial would have liked to give her as long as she needed. She was struggling through issues he had resolved in the solitude of his underground haven. But, even though the crisis with Obis had been averted, a more imposing challenge loomed. The Lord of Fire wasn’t likely to provide a reprieve. The heat bubble had to be stopped. And his inability to come up with a reasonable solution haunted Sorial day and night.

Soon after, Alicia, exhausted by effort and emotion, drifted into a deep slumber. Sorial continued to hold her, chasing the elusive specter of sleep throughout the night and into the early morning hours when he finally gave up.

* * *

Of all the things that had happened during the past day, Toranim’s death had dealt the biggest blow to Azarak. He had seen the body, carefully arranged so as to hide the horrific butcher’s cut that had ended his chancellor’s life, but that didn’t make it any more real.

Myselene, who had been a witness to what happened in the royal box, told him the story. Toranim had died a hero, stepping in the path of an infuriated Sangaska to keep him from killing Sorial. A brave if foolish decision, but at least it could be said that Toranim had died for something. Without his interference, perhaps Sangaska would have reached Sorial. A dead wizard or a dead chancellor - Azarak knew which one Toranim would have advocated.

Many of Vantok’s leading citizens had offered platitudes and condolences, remarking how Toranim had lived a long, full life and died in a manner that would make him proud. That was true enough, but dead was dead. It was the living who bore the burden of going on.

Azarak shifted in bed to relieve some of the pressure on his sore shoulder. He flexed the fingers of his right hand tentatively, still finding it hard to believe that the arm wasn’t a useless deadweight. After poking around in the wound and using her healing magic, Alicia had expressed cautious optimism. She didn’t think Azarak would regain the full strength or range of motion he had once possessed, but she believed he would be able to use it for grabbing, holding, and writing, if not wielding a sword. It was enough. But, at the moment, it was damnably painful. Still, considering Grushik’s expertise and ferocity, it could have been worse. Azarak had expected him to be good, but not
that
good.

He was alone in bed, his wife having temporarily relocated to another room so as not to crowd him at night. In their time together, he had discovered that she was a cuddler, and that was one thing he wasn’t able to do. He shifted his weight until he was able to reach the pull-bell with his left hand then rang it.

A day ago, Toranim would have responded to the summons wearing a dressing gown but with every hair in place and looking as if he hadn’t been awakened from a sound sleep. This night, the man who came was Toranim’s likely successor, Vice Chancellor Gorton. If he appeared wide awake, it was likely because he hadn’t yet gone to bed. The eventless departure of the Obis army was a delicate matter and Gorton was handling every detail personally. Thus far, things had gone smoothly.

Gorton came to the left side of the bed and executed a perfunctory bow. “How may I be of assistance, Your Majesty?”

“How’s my wife?” He hadn’t seen Myselene since their brief time together following Alicia’s healing. In fact, other than Gorton, an endless parade of healers, and Duke Carannan, Azarak hadn’t seen anyone.

“She’s retired for the evening but will join you in your chamber for breakfast at dawn. The ordeal has deeply upset her. Having watched her grow up, I can assure you such a thing is most unusual - Myselene is the most unflappable woman I’ve ever known. She’s grateful that you survived but mourns with you over the loss of Chancellor Toranim.

“On a personal level, I share your grief. I came to know Toranim well last year when we battled each other over every detail in the betrothal agreement. I looked forward to working with him under your rule and am saddened that won’t happen. I’ll serve Your Majesty to the best of my abilities, but I won’t be able to replace Chancellor Toranim nor can I match the wisdom he gained and the trust he earned in more than three decades of service to the Crown.”

Azarak was weary of thinking about Toranim. He needed a distraction. “How fares the troop withdrawal?”

“As well as can be expected, Your Majesty. The campsite has been vacated except for the 500 who remain behind. They’ll be relocated to more permanent quarters on the morrow. The bulk of Obis’ force is on the road, headed north. The only elements still in Vantok are the trailing supply wagons, which are finalizing purchases and will be departing by noon. The return journey will be shorter; Captain Greeg will use Widow’s Pass - an unusual decision with a force that size given the narrowness of the road. But he feels that, considering the instability created by the death of three kings, haste is necessary.”

Azarak wondered if it had occurred to Sangaska, before his impulsive attack of Sorial, that Grushik’s death had made him king. It was doubtful - the man had never been known as a quick thinker and, had he recognized his exalted position, he would have been more likely to embrace Sorial than punch him in the face. Rangarak’s rule had lasted many decades. Grushik’s had spanned two days. And Sangaska’s had ended less than five minutes after it started.

“Who will be king in Obis now?” asked Azarak.

“Perhaps only the augurs know. The line of succession was clear through Sangaska. After Rangarak, his trueborn son, Grushik, was next. Then Sangaska, the husband of his eldest daughter. After that... Technically, Myselene’s husband would follow Sangaska, but you’re ineligible on two counts, the most obvious being that you’re the king of Vantok. Also, by becoming your wife, Myselene forfeited all rights and claims related to her former title as second princess of Obis.

“That leaves the husband of the youngest princess, but his claim is dubious. Many won’t accept him.”

“What about one of the princesses?” asked Azarak. In Vantok, the succession went to the eldest child, regardless of sex, but he recognized that Obis was a patriarchal society. Nevertheless, if there were no male children...

“It may come to that. A bastard or two might emerge as a contender. It’s known that Rangarak sired a number of children with various mistresses. Or there may be a civil war. In a situation like this, there will be a lot of posturing and politicking and whoever emerges with the strongest hand will grab the throne. If not one of the legitimate or illegitimate children, it could be a distant cousin or a relative twice-removed. Ties to the military will prove important. If I was going to lay odds, it wouldn’t be on either of Rangarak’s daughters. They are weak-willed and would be unlikely to hold the throne if it was given to them. Myselene would have been another matter. But her future is here in Vantok, not in the North.”

“If she was to go there, as the Queen of Vantok, and claim rulership of Obis, would she receive support?”

“You mean as a force for unification?”

“Wasn’t that ultimately Rangarak’s plan?”

“Initially, no. It began innocently enough. When he sent Myselene here, it was simply because you represented the best possible marriage for her. Although she may not have recognized it, he held her in the highest regard. Once her betrothal to you was sealed, however, he began to think differently. I wasn’t privy to all his thoughts but I believe he may have been plotting ways to tie Vantok and Obis together, if not in this generation then in the next. I think he was disappointed to learn that Myselene didn’t share his ambitions.

“As to whether Obis would accept Myselene’s rule even knowing her to be the Queen of Vantok... I can’t say for sure. It would take a sizeable show of force and a promise that you would have no part in ruling Obis. If she tried something like that, the odds of success would be poor and the likelihood of assassination high. I wouldn’t recommend it and, knowing her as I do, I don’t think such a power play would interest her. Once, it might have, but not now. At some point last year, she became wholly focused on becoming the Queen of Vantok. This is her heart’s desire. Obis is a part of her past that she has little desire to revisit.”

“I was curious, that’s all. I have no desire to unite the two cities, especially with war coming. It’s difficult to contemplate a greater mismatch than Vantok and Obis.”

“We’re in agreement, then. One advantage of the instability in Obis is that it will take a long time before questions about the legitimacy of The Challenge and its aftermath can be raised. It will take the better part of a year before a new ruler is chosen and the new king or queen will require an equal amount of time to solidify his or her base of power. Two years from now, it’s unlikely that retaliation against Vantok will have much political or popular appeal, especially if you were to make a good faith offer of reparations.”

Left unsaid was the potential that Vantok wouldn’t be around in two years. If it came down to it, Azarak would be more than happy to face a hostile Obis in time because it would mean an even bigger danger had been overcome. No matter how intimidating the Iron King’s successor might be, The Lord of Fire represented a more real, immediate, and imposing threat - a threat Azarak would have to face without his most constant and trusted advisor to rely on.

* * *

This was Myselene’s first taste of real power - not the artificial variety she had enjoyed in Obis as a princess or the limited kind that had frustrated her as the king’s mistress. Now she was the queen and she wouldn’t squander the opportunity to flex her political muscles. She wished her new role had arrived during less unfortunate circumstances but at least her husband was alive, if not hale. Toranim’s absence was keenly felt. The man who would have watched from the shadows wouldn’t be there to guide her away from obvious pitfalls. She was on her own and there were two important matters to attend to before her afternoon meeting with Vice Chancellor Gorton.