Anais and the Broken War (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 5) Page 3

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “Cedric didn’t want to worry Lady Mediera. And you’re so close to her. It didn’t seem wise to confide in you.”

  I sighed. “She can’t be left in the dark.”

  “You don’t have to convince me. I wanted to tell you both how bad things had gotten. But my vote doesn’t count, because I’m just an artist, as your friend Cedric puts it. He’s a peach.” Fynn sighed. “I suppose he’s just trying to keep Mediera calm.”

  “Why would Mediera need to stay calm?”

  “You weren’t there. She broke down in tears in one of our sessions. There have been some very unpleasant letters from the captains in the field. Afterward, Cedric decided that we shouldn’t tell her anything that might upset her.”

  “If Mediera’s not making the decisions, than who is?”

  “Cedric. Sort of. Gorman and Jacarda are letting him think he’s running the show, but he has no head for strategy. To be fair, neither do I.”

  “Are you in contact with the fat man? Does he know what’s happening?”

  “He hasn’t been in my head since the night Lord Pendragon died. I’ve tried to reach out to him, but I don’t know how. He never answers my calls.”

  “And Gorman?”

  Fynn shrugged. “I wish I knew. Gorman plays his cards near to the vest.”

  “The two of you seem close. I’m surprised he doesn’t confide in you.”

  “Gorman makes everyone feel like they’re his friend. He’s good at that. But, no one’s close to him. Not really. He only brought me into this because of you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. You trust me.”

  I blinked. “I do?”

  Fynn swatted my shoulder. “Yeah, you do. You trust me more than you trust Gorman. And Gorman knows that.”

  “Okay. I suppose I do trust you. But, why does that matter? Why do I matter?”

  “You matter because you are one of the few people close to Lady Mediera. And Lady Mediera is a symbol. She represents safety and continuity. Gorman needs her just as Lord Pendragon needed her.”

  “Does Gorman want to rule the city?”

  Fynn sighed. “I don’t know if he’s ambitious by nature. He’s a pragmatist. He doesn’t want the city to fall to the furies. Someone has to lead the people and the army to prevent the worst from happening. Who would you suggest do the job?”

  “It should Mediera.”

  “You’re right, of course. It should be. And maybe she will.”

  “Not if you’re keeping things from her.”

  Fynn sighed. “You’re arguing with the wrong person. You do know that.”

  As we spotted the arches of the stables, I put my hands in my pockets, searching for a chunk of black rock or Gorman’s ring. But my pockets were empty. Although I was wearing my black pants, shirt, and leather boots under my dress and had my blades strapped to my thigh, I didn’t have the one thing that really mattered. I should have been prepared for this, but I wasn’t. I had been carrying that ring with me for weeks, but this was a freshly washed dress. I winced.

  “I don’t have any black rock, and I need it if I’m going to try to bury a band of furies. Can we go back?”

  “There’s no need.” Fynn reached into his bag and fished out a string of black pearls. Each bead gleamed bright in the sunlight.

  “It’s lovely,” I whispered as Fynn dropped the necklace into my hands.

  “Gorman had it commissioned from a local jeweler. They’re beads of black rock glass. He made sure they were produced with the highest grade of purity. An expensive little trinket, to be sure. But, he thought they would suit your needs.” He grinned. “Do you think it will work?”

  My fingers burned as they touched the impossibly smooth surface of the beads, and a low humming buzz twisted through my mind.

  I nodded at Fynn. “It’s gushing with power. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

  “Good. For we don’t have time to get you something else.”

  I tucked the necklace into my pocket, not wishing to be distracted by its charm as we dealt with stable master, who handed me the reigns to a white mare after Fynn finished explaining our needs to him. It whinnied and touched my hand with its nose as if it recognized me. I knew it couldn’t be the same horse I had ridden after leaving the skins training grounds. That would be impossible. I stroked her neck before I pulled myself into the saddle.

  Fynn was given a large black stallion, which he climbed on awkwardly. It seemed much too big for his slender frame. But he had requested a warhorse, and that was what he received.

  I led the way as we rode to the city gate, while Fynn struggled to control his mount.

  “I thought this would be an elegant mode of transportation,” he muttered as he jerked in the saddle.”

  “It is. You should have asked for a different horse.”

  “Absolutely not. This is a warrior’s horse.”

  “And you consider yourself a warrior?” I laughed.

  “Of course. I’m about to throw myself into the fire with you. I should at least look like a champion.”

  “Okay, okay. You’re a hero.”

  “That’s right.”

  We pulled our horses to a stop as we approached the southern gate.

  “The gate’s closed,” a guard clad in red livery said in a clipped voice. “No one’s coming in or out today.”

  “Except for us.” Fynn handed him a note stamped with Gorman’s seal.

  The guard made a show of unrolling the parchment, but it was unclear whether he could read the words printed on the page.

  “Have it your way. But, I’m keeping the scroll. Gorman will want it back.”

  Fynn nodded. “He likely will. Our thanks.”

  After the guard had disappeared into the gate tower, the lattice grilles of the interior and the outer portcullis were raised. I looked up at the metal spikes hanging over our heads as we road through the gateway and wondered if they would stop a hoard of violent furies. I didn’t think so.

  After we had passed through the arches, four men clad in red livery and riding hard flashed into view. They were moving toward the city gate. The guard, who had opened the gate for us, called into the tower, and four men quickly scrambled out to join him. They didn’t close the portcullis. I considered asking Fynn if we should wait and find out what news these men brought from the field, but I decided against it. Gorman had given us an order, and I didn’t want to give these men a chance to overrule him.

  My heart sunk as we crossed paths with the men. I recognized one of them–Captain Carrenhail. I didn’t think Fynn had ever had the misfortune of encountering him, for I didn’t notice a sign of recognition on Fynn’s face. They did not stop to question us, and I was grateful for that.

  I stopped the mare after we lost sight of the city walls. I was leading, but I wasn’t certain of our destination. Fynn pulled his stallion to a stop next to me, and I noticed how red his face was. He inhaled and exhaled sharply, catching his breath.

  “Do we have to go so fast?” he asked.

  “You need to improve your riding skills.”

  “Clearly.”

  “Where are we going, Fynn?” I asked.

  “Gorman said we should follow the main road south until we hit the first path heading west toward the mountains. The hoard of furies had taken a military camp that was set up on the road. Since they tend to mill about for a few days after a large kill, he thought they would still be there.”

  “That sounds reasonable. Should we get going?”

  “Wait, perhaps we should rest for a while. Maybe eat. I have some bread and cheese in my pack.”

  I frowned. “We’ve only been riding for two hours.”

  “I know. But, once we find the furies, we’ll be otherwise occupied.”

  “All right. You probably have a point.”

  After I had dismounted from my mare, I pulled my sister’s headpiece and dress off and tucked them in my mare’s saddlebag before ty
ing my loose hair into a bun at the nape of my neck. I poured some water from the water skin into my hands and let the horse drink. She seemed thirsty, and I was suddenly grateful that Fynn had wanted the break. A tired horse would not be much of an asset in the upcoming battle.

  “Well, now you look the part,” Fynn said as he handed me a chunk of cheese and a torn piece of the loaf of bread.

  I pulled a blade from its sheath on my thigh and used it to cut the piece of cheese in half. I took a bite, and then took a swallow of water from my skin.

  Fynn, still clad in a courtly velvet blouse and white leggings, lounged next to me in the grass, eating his bread. I couldn’t see where he was hiding his blades.

  “Fynn, where are your knives. You did bring them?”

  “Oh yeah. They’re in my saddlebag somewhere.”

  I didn’t like that he was willing to treat his weapons so recklessly.

  “Have you used your blades in combat?” I asked him.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Have you used them at all since leaving the skin’s training grounds?”

  He shrugged and shook his head again.

  I sighed. I hadn’t considered Fynn’s lack of experience. While I had been fighting, he had been spying for the fat man. Of course he wouldn’t have needed to practice the combat skills he had learned.

  “Do you think that will be a problem?” Fynn asked. “Gorman didn’t seem worried.”

  “Gorman either has an unrealistic idea of my abilities, or he doesn’t care that this little excursion is putting us both in danger.” I sighed. Complaining wasn’t going to get us anywhere. “Why don’t we practice a little?” I suggested.

  We left the horses to graze in a meadow of grass beside the road while Fynn and I stepped into the wood. I made him throw his blades into a tree over and over again until it seemed he could make his target without too much effort. At least the skills the fat man had imbued us with were not a temporary phenomenon.

  He smiled. “You know, I’m pretty good at this.”

  I swatted him. “I think you’ll manage.”

  As Fynn pulled his blade from the tree, a blurred black shape jumped on his back. I pulled my blade from my thigh and drove it into the creature’s throat. It fell to the ground, and Fynn and I stared wordlessly at our fallen foe while noises broke out from all directions. We were surrounded.

  CHAPTER 4

  I YANKED MY blade out of the fury’s back, grateful that I hadn’t lost it. My arm stung from the effort. The blade had gone deep into his flesh. Crouching down low, I took inventory of our situation. About two-dozen furies milled amongst the trees, neither moving toward us nor abandoning us. Swaying forward and back, they were like a gentle tide. I shivered. Why had only one struck? A second fury stepped away from the hoard and then leapt at Fynn. He threw his blade, and it hit the fury in the chest. It fell to the ground, black blood oozing from the wound. Unfortunately, the fury’s body was too far away for us to recover Fynn’s weapon. Fynn gripped his second blade, and I worried that he would try to hit one of the furies in the trees.

  “Don’t throw it,” I warned him.

  “Why not? I think I could strike one. My aim is true.”

  “If you throw it, you’ll be defenseless.”

  “Good point,” Fynn conceded.

  Another fury ran at us, and I threw one of my blades, smoothly felling it. Now we were both down to our last blade. I turned, looking for an avenue of escape.

  “The tree. Can you climb it?” I asked.

  “Let’s find out,” Fynn said with a shrug.

  Using gnarls and knots for footholds, I scrambled up the thick trunk of the oak tree, hugging it as I moved upward. After I had settled on a high branch, I looked down and watched as Fynn hoisted himself up, hand and then leg, until he was sitting on a branch next to me. His blouse was torn and bloody, and his leggings covered in dirt. His perfect curls had come loose, giving him a haphazard look. He no longer appeared like a courtier. He looked ragged. I let out a long slow breath, grateful to be safe for the moment. When I opened my eyes, I could see Fynn staring into the distance, frowning. Near the clearing by the road, the horses were still eating, unaware of the impending doom. Most of the furies had now turned their attention away from us. This must be the reason they hadn’t rushed at us. They smelled the horses, and it likely confused them.

  Not wanting to watch, I closed my eyes.

  Fynn gasped, and I blinked my eyes open. In the distance, a swarm of slick blue-green bodies huddled where the horses had been.

  “Both of them?” I asked.

  “Your mare got away, but my stallion was not so lucky.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  “The horses are the least of our problems,” he said as he pointed to the trunk of the tree where four furies were clawing at the bark. “I’ve never seen one so close.”

  “Did you ever see the one in the arena?”

  “Sure, but I never sat close enough to really see it. I could never afford those sorts of seats, nor would I have wished to be so close.”

  “At least we’re safe,” I said.

  “For now. However, we can’t stay up here indefinitely, for we have no food or water.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed, my eyes fixed on the furies swarming the poor stallion. I hoped it had died quickly.

  “Any chance you’re willing to see what you can do with the necklace? That was the plan, after all. I don’t think Gorman ever envisioned us taking this hoard down by the might of our steel.”

  Why had I so easily forgotten that I was supposed to win this battle by magic? After I pulled the string of black pearls from my pocket, I cut my hand with my blade and let the blood dribble onto the necklace. Fire seeped into my veins, and I could see everything without my eyes. The furies were throbbing hungry pinpricks of light spread thick throughout the woods–so many more than just the ones we could see. They were everywhere. Uncountable. My attention danced from one to the other, trying to find the right place to start. I wanted to be efficient. If I only had one chance, I needed to use it to take down as many as I could. The highest concentration of pinpricks flickered around the horse, whose light was dimming quickly. It shuddered and then faded to nothing. The horse was dead.

  I focused on the furies gathered around the horse’s body and imagined the ground around them turning soft as quicksand, soft enough to eat them whole. I clutched the necklace and watched as they sank into the earth. They squirmed and howled as the world embraced them. I brushed sticky tears away from my eyes as I felt an ache spread through my gut. The rush of power was so intense that I wasn’t able to control it. It tore energy from the blood in my veins. I gasped. It was too much. I took a deep breath, trying to slow down, but I couldn’t find a way. I was lost.

  A rush of hooves caught my attention, and I blinked. I no longer saw the world in hidden flashes of energy. Once again, I was privy to the facade on the surface. A contingent of soldiers on horseback galloped down the road toward the sinking furies. They were coming from the south. Not the right direction.

  “Soldiers,” Fynn whispered. “Anais, you have to stop.” Fynn reached over to me and took hold of my arm.

  But it was too late. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I had wanted to. If I didn’t finish, I would burn up and blow away in the wind.

  The furies sank deeper into the muck. The horses the soldiers were riding balked as their hoofs touched the yielding earth. They lifted their front legs, whinnied, and tried to turn back. But it was too late. As the horses collapsed, the soldiers dismounted, but it didn’t save them. They screamed as their legs were swallowed, they bellowed when their torsos merged into the earth, and were silent once their heads disappeared. The circle of quicksand clouded out moving into the forest, taking everything. Finally, the tree we perched on began to sink.

  “Ani, please. I don’t want to die. Not like this.” Fynn’s grip on my arm tightened. “Dear sisters of mercy, save us.” His wo
rds were the last thing I remembered before everything went dark.

  While clutching at a warm wool blanket, I bellowed a long blood-curdling scream. I blinked. I wasn’t in the tree anymore. I was somewhere else–somewhere warm and safe.

  “You’re awake,” a voice in the darkness said before a lamp was lit. Fynn was standing above me, dressed in crisp and clean courtier garb, his hair freshly curled.

  “Where are we?” I asked as I pulled the blanket close to my chest.

  “This is my studio. Not the grandest, I admit. But I do what I can.”

  “The last thing I remember was sitting in the tree. How did we get here?”

  “Now that is an interesting story.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I waited for him to continue.

  “I thought we would die. The tree sank so far down into the ground that our feet almost touched by the time it all ended.”

  “How did it stop? I couldn’t control the power. It was consuming me.”

  “I hit you on the head, and you passed out. As soon as you were unconscious, the tree’s descent halted, and the ground froze solid.”

  “That was smart. You must have broken the magic’s hold on me.”

  “That was the easy part. Getting us back to the city…now that was difficult.”

  It seemed impossible for Fynn to have carried me all the way to Barriershire. “How did you do it? You couldn’t have carried me so far.”

  “As luck would have it, I didn’t have to. After I pulled you from the tree, I considered leaving you and sending back help once I reached Barriershire. But, while I hesitated, by some stroke of luck, your mare returned. So I hoisted you up onto her back, and you hung around her neck. When I climbed up behind you, I expected the horse to balk, but she let us ride her. I can’t imagine it was a pleasant experience for her, for it certainly wasn’t pleasant for me. I’m not much of a horseman when riding on my own and I was even less graceful with the addition of your dead weight.”