The Rival (64 page)

The crunching stopped and he heard a squeal.  The Red Cap.  Maybe they would quit with him.

"Who are you?" a male voice snapped in Fey.

"S-Scavenger," the Red Cap said.

"What are you doing here?" the male Fey asked.

"I-ah-thought you were Rugar's people.  They search for me sometime."

"Rugar's men?" the male Fey asked.  "Rugar has been dead for years."

"Yes, but his people keep looking for me.  I'm one of the Fey who doesn't believe in the truce."

A lie.  The little Cap had enough sense to lie.  If he pulled it off, he would keep all of them hidden. 

Leen slipped her fingers from Gift's.  They still touched fingertips, but apparently his grip had grown too strong for her.  He huddled in the bale, feeling the straw scratch his damp back.

"Why would you hide now,  Cap?"

"I saw Fey.  I thought maybe they were coming for me."

"We are Rugad's people," the male voice said.  "We search for his great-grandson whom, we were told, ruled the Fey on Blue Isle."

"I didn't think anyone ruled the Fey on Blue Isle now that Rugar and his daughter were dead," the Cap said.

Gift bit his lower lip.  Careful, Cap.  They might see through this.

"The great-grandson would have to rule in that case," the male voice said.

"But he was a baby when they died.  No one took their place.  A bunch of Failures, the lot.  No one even tried to fight."

Something wet fell down Gift's right cheek.  He resisted the urge to wipe it away.  The moisture had to be sweat.  It couldn't be anything else.

Failures, the lot of them.

And they were all dead.

He should have died too.  But he had been in Jahn, trying to save Sebastian, not realizing what else was at stake.

"If no one ruled, why were you hiding from them?"

"Because they hated me," the Cap said. "They said I was ruining all Jewel worked for."

"You're awfully clean for a Cap."

"I haven't been affiliated for a long time."

"And you made this entire mess by yourself?"

"I had trouble getting into the bale."

"It's a strange place to hide.  Why didn't you go for the barn?"

"Because," the Cap said, "the Islanders hate me just as bad as the Fey do."

"You're just not very popular, are you?" the Fey asked.

"That's the bane of a Cap's existence," the Cap said.

"That's it, then," the Fey said.  "Let him go."

Gift felt his shoulders relax.  Leen's fingers twitched.  They'd made it. The Cap had saved them.

Then hands parted the bale.  Gift watched as long brown fingers pulled the strands of straw apart.  Straw rained around him, as several pairs of hands gripped his shirt and pulled him free.  Around him the same thing was happening to Leen, Coulter and Adrian.  Gift had trouble standing.  He was weak and dizzy from the heat.  Scavenger stood in the middle of a group of Foot Soldiers and Infantry, a look of dismay on his square face.

"You lie, Cap," said a Fey beside Gift.  Gift turned just a little. The Fey had wings and a look of frailty.  He was a Wisp.  Gift's eyes filled, and he blinked, trying to force the water down.

"You are the real great-grandson," the Wisp said, "the one raised by Fey."

There was no use in denying it.  Maybe if he talked long enough, he could set the others free.

"You've seen Sebastian?" Gift asked.  "The Changeling?"

"The Golem?  Yes, I saw him, two nights ago, accepting the honor that should have been yours.  But we stopped it.  If you accept your great-grandfather's offer, you will rule not just Blue Isle, but the Fey Empire as well."

"What offer?" Gift asked.  Coulter was watching him, straw poking out of his yellow hair like sticks.

"Your great-grandfather wants you to come peaceably with us.  He will train you and you will succeed him as ruler of the Fey Empire."

Adrian's face was deep red.  Sweat ran down it.  The Cap looked angry.  Leen had scratches from all the straw.  She hunched, appearing wrung out.

"Where would you take me?" Gift asked.  He was stalling for time, hoping the others would come up with something.  Maybe even the little Cap.  He seemed to be thinking the clearest.

"The palace," the Wisp said.  "Your great-grandfather waits there."

Suddenly Gift forgot escape.  The image of Sebastian, standing before the Black King rose in his mind.

Sebastian, shattering.

"The Islander palace?" Gift asked.  Bile had risen in his throat.  It burned from his adam's apple to his gullet.  "The Black King is in the Islander palace?"

The Wisp smiled.  "It's his now."

"But what about Sebastian?  My father?  My sister?  What happened to them?"

"I thought they were nothing to you," the Wisp said.

"They're my family."  Gift clenched his fists.  He struggled against the hands that held him.  "They're all I have left."

"And for that they matter?" the Wisp asked.  There was a small note of contempt in his voice.  Too small for the others to hear, but clear to Gift.  Fey weren't supposed to care about others.  Not when it got in the way of their own future.

"You can't touch my sister," Gift said.  "She has Black Blood."

"I haven't touched anyone," the Wisp said.

Coulter made a small movement with his right hand, almost as if he were catching a ball that had bounced off the ground.  A small light glowed through his fingers.

Gift licked his lips.  "If Sebastian's dead, I won't do anything for your Black King."

"You should know," the Wisp said.  "He's your Golem.  Isn't he?"

Coulter made the same small movement with his other hand.  The light appeared there too.

"What's this?" A man cried out in Islander.

The farmer stood behind the Fey, his family around him.  Adrian turned, so quickly he forced the Fey holding him to step back to retain their balance.  "Run!" he shouted in the same language.  "Run now!"

  The farmer didn't need the instruction twice.  He started to run, but some Fey started after him. 

Gift tried to wrench away from his captors. The Cap was doing the same. 

Suddenly Coulter erupted into flame.  The Fey holding him screamed.  The fire ran up their arms and along their clothing.  Coulter moved away.  He sent balls of fire into the grouping of Fey, and their boots ignited.  The ground, though, didn't burn.

The Fey were screaming.  The others were trying to put the fire out.  The Cap grabbed one of his swords and hacked at the Fey holding Gift.  Coulter came close, pointed a burning finger at them, and they backed away.  Gift glanced at his friend in startlement, but said nothing. 

Leen wrenched out of her captors' grasp.  Adrian was still shouting at the farmer.  Leen grabbed him, pulled him into the melee.  The Wisp, in desperation, reached for Gift, and Gift shoved him as hard as he could, sending him backwards into the corn.  Gift winced; he probably broke the Wisp's wings, and most of the bones in his legs.

Fey were screaming.  The area smelled of burning flesh.  Coulter grabbed Gift's arm, but the fire didn't run to him. 

"Come on," Coulter said.  "We only have a moment."

Gift let himself be pulled into the corn.  As they reached it, Coulter's flames went out.  Leen was following, Adrian and the Cap behind her.  They were leaving a mess, a trail, and Gift didn't care.  He was using the last of his energy to run.

"What was that?" the Cap asked.

"I got a whole arsenal of spells," Coulter said.  "They just aren't very powerful and they don't last long."

The Fey screams were growing. 

"The farmer," Adrian said.

"We can't help him," the Cap said.  He grabbed Adrian's shirt and pulled him forward.

"They'll be searching for us," Gift said.

"They won't find us," Coulter said.  "You hurt their Wisp.  They have to go by ground to get someone after us.  If we can hide  — "

They reached the end of the corn.  Gift and Coulter broke through first.  And stopped.

A row of Fey that extended as far as the eye could see blocked the cornfields.  More Fey covered the road.

"They won't find us?" the Cap said as he burst out beside Gift.  Adrian cursed and Leen moaned.  "You don't have Vision, do you, Islander?"

"That's Gift's job," Coulter said.  "Had any Visions about this?"

Gift shook his head.  He'd had a lot of Visions this day, but none of them showed this.  And most of them ended with Sebastian shattering.

"They're not going to take me," Gift said.

"Great," Leen said.  "Where does that leave the rest of us?"

"Dead," the Cap said.  "But they'll kill us whether they capture us or not.  May as well go out fighting."

Without waiting for an answer, he brandished his bloodied sword aloft, and plunged into the crowd.

SEVENTY-SEVEN

Arianna was breathing hard. The sword was heavier than she expected and her arms were tired.  She had used them as wings too much in the last few days.

Every eye in the room was on her.  Every eye.  The guards had their hands on their own swords.  Her father was standing motionless beside her, and Sebastian was beside him.  The Black King watched her, his eyes alive in his sun-wrinkled face.

"Do you know what will happen if you attack me with that?" he asked.  He didn't even look frightened.

She knew, but she wasn't sure she believed.  It was all Fey mumbo-jumbo, some of it true, some of it not.  She wasn't sure she'd risk her family's lives for some Shaman's lie.

But then, if she killed the Black King, the guards would be free to kill her.

And her father.

"They say chaos will happen," she said.  She sounded calm, and she didn't feel that way.  Her arms were trembling.  "But I don't believe it."

"Believe it, girl."  It was as if they were the only two people in the room.  She could feel his power.  It radiated off him.  He was used to command, used to being in charge.  Even though her father had gotten the best of him in their verbal sparring, the Black King seemed undisturbed.  Even now, looking down the mouth of his own death, he seemed undisturbed.

"If it's true," she said, "set us free."

"To what end?" he said.  "I'll just capture you again."

"And I'll try to kill you again."

"You wouldn't," he said.  "You wouldn't risk everything for nothing."

"You're not offering me everything.  I get the prize after you die, whether you train me or not.  I don't need you, old man," she said.

That did seem to reach him.  He swallowed, a small movement, one the others might not even notice, but a movement all the same. 

"If you kill me," he said, "you'll destroy everything the Fey have worked for.  Everything."

She smiled.  She had to shift her hand slightly to keep the sword up.  "I've never seen what the Fey worked for.  It's nothing to me."

"Chaos, girl. Brother against brother.  Friend against friend.  That's what you'd bring on this world."

"You mean," she said, "what you've already brought on it?  My father is right.  You didn't have to attack us.  Maybe my brother and I would have worked with you.  Maybe you should have found out first."

"You don't know what you're doing," he said.  This time the desperation had crept into his voice.  She had frightened him.

Badly.

He didn't know what she would do, what she was capable of. 

She liked that.  It gave her the edge she needed.

"And yet you want me to work for you," she said.  "You want me beside you.  You think I'm ignorant, but you'll let me rule an empire."

"You're ignorant because you were raised among Islanders.  That can be changed.  You can learn."

"I was raised among my own people."

Her father took one step forward.  It was a small step, but it put him in her range of vision.  She mentally thanked him for that.  It made everything easier.

"The Fey are your people."

"The Fey are no more my people than they are my father's," she said.  "Your people didn't want me.  They wouldn't raise me.  They left me here to die.  If it weren't for my father and Solanda, I would be dead.  So don't talk to me of my people."

"Those Fey are dead," the Black King said softly, carefully.  "They were Failures.  The Fey do not allow failure."

"Then what will happen to you, allowing a small slip of a girl to get the better of you?"

"You don't have the better of me," he said and reached for the sword. 

She anticipated the move, and with her right hand, tossed the sword to her father.  He caught it deftly, the sword moving as if it were designed for his hand.  The Black King whirled, her father ran forward, and Sebastian screamed.

The guards were moving too, but she couldn't think about that.  If her family was to escape, she had to act now.

She Shifted, and hoped she'd survive the process.

SEVENTY-EIGHT

The Fey laughed as they charged him.  Con swung his sword and sliced through three of them: the movement went through the neck of one, slicing off part of his shoulder; then penetrating the arm of another, cutting into his chest and out the other side; and into the third's stomach and out his thigh.  The first's head fell backwards and landed with a splat.  His body fell a moment later.  The other two were cut in half, blood spurting from the lower half as the upper part of their bodies fell to the ground.

Blood fell on him like rain.

His arm wasn't even tired.  He hadn't felt any resistance.  If there weren't twitching bodies before him, he would have thought nothing happened.  It had felt as if he had sliced through air.

The other three Fey stopped as if he had commanded them.

"Back off," he said.  "Back off or I'll kill the rest of you."

The sword was light in his hands.  It was made of a material he had never felt before.  Most swords were too heavy for him to hold.

Not this one.

His feet were wet.  The floor was slick with blood.  The three dead Fey lay between him and Servis, beside the damaged table. Then the remaining Fey started moving again.   A Fey man came forward, his hands outstretched.  He had such long fingernails that they looked like claws.