Sworn To Conflict: Courtlight #3 (13 page)

The man shouldering the weight of his precious cargo didn’t bother to turn around.

“Can’t anyone do anything right?” the Lord Chamberlain muttered. “First the Weathervane—”

“The Weathervane?” murmured Ciardis with a sharp tone. “Do you mean my brother?”

“Of course, my apologies. I didn’t mean to be rude. I must of course take care of my duties and settle your brother in his new arrangements,” the Lord Chamberlain said.

“Settle him?” Ciardis said with narrowed eyes.

“Nothing unpleasant, Lady Weathervane. There many people here who have his best interests at heart.”

“I’m sure.”

He couldn’t have missed the censure in her tone.

He gave her a thin-lipped smile. “Good day to you.”

“And to you, sir,” Ciardis replied.

The Lord Chamberlain left.

As soon as he did, Ciardis turned to Kane. “Take me to my brother as soon as this business with Prince Sebastian is over.”

Kane nodded.

Ciardis gave a sharp sigh, wishing she could go to him now, but knowing that whatever Sebastian had planned was important. Important enough for her to put duty before family. But silently, she thought,
Never again. Family and love will always come first.
That made her attendance upon Sebastian even more complicated. She hadn’t lied before. She didn’t think she loved Sebastian. But sometimes the heart was a fickle thing, and even she couldn’t tell from one day to the next. So was this meeting a burden of duty? Or of love?

Looking around for a guide, Ciardis was startled when Inga let out a piercing whistle designed to raise birds from the trees. They were on an open plain with nothing for miles around but snow. The piercing whistle succeeded in creating a small avalanche of snow that fell from a crevice above directly on top of a wagon packed with supplies. That happened to be Inga’s intention. Because it also caught the gaze of a rather redolent young man.

As people started to gather and the wagon driver started shaking his fist, Ciardis blanched and pointed to the man who stood up and stared over at their group. “Is that who you were whistling for?”

Inga, who had been listening to the wagon driver’s barrage of insults with glee as she learned new ones, glanced over with a disinterested gaze. “Yep.”

Kane, his hand on his sword pommel, nodded at Ciardis in confirmation.

“Then let’s go,” Ciardis said as she scurried away from the growing crowd. Inga and Kane followed quickly behind.

“Inga,” said the fat young man who was their guide when they approached.

“Mark,” said Inga. “Guide us to the outpost.”

“Guide us?” whispered Ciardis to Kane, leaning up toward his ear. She asked because there was a tower with ramparts not even twenty feet in the distance. Easily seen. Easily walked to.

“Regulations. Always need a mage to guide us to the western guard post.”

“Is it an illusion?”

“No.”

Ciardis shrugged. “Fine.”

They set off walking down a well-worn path with mounds of snow shoveled off to the sides and arrived at the wooden base of the rampart not even three minutes later.

Ciardis looked around for Sebastian, hoping that he was somewhere at the base. Anywhere at the base. Because those ramparts were as tall as the trees of the Ameles Forest and there were no convenient walkways or baskets to carry them up. She looked around and then over at Inga, with a small plea on her face. The frost giant looked back at her and snorted, “Yes, this is it.”

“Damn,” muttered Ciardis while kicking her foot into the snow.

It had to be
this
rampart. Even from a distance she could see that ramparts just a few feet to the west and east had steps carved into the base. But oh no, not this rampart. This rampart had rope ladders. She wished it was a joke, but it wasn’t. And when Sebastian popped his head over the edge and she could see the glint of his guards’ swords even from a distance, she nearly groaned aloud.

“Well,” Kane said, looking at her sympathetically, “good luck.”

Ciardis glared up at him. “What do you mean ‘good luck’? You’re not coming?”

Kane glanced at the climbing ladders and looked back at her with a chuckle. “There are a half-dozen Imperial guards up there. You’ll be safer with them than down at the base. I will guard your back.”

She stared at him open-mouthed. She didn’t believe him, not for one minute.

“You just don’t want to climb the fracking rope,” she muttered to herself.

“What was that?” Kane said.

Ciardis turned around from where she had placed her hands on the first rung of the ladder and her feet at the notches on the base. “I said I need gloves.”

Inga snorted from where she sat cross-legged in the snow.

Kane tossed her a pair from his waist. “They might be a little big on you but they’ll protect your hands.”

“Thanks,” she said with more than a touch of bitterness.

“You’re welcome.”

Rolling her eyes, she stuffed on the gloves and headed up the ladder. Half an hour later she arrived, wheezing and ready to throw up. She didn’t bother with politeness when she slumped on the top of the rampart, breathing heavily on her hands and knees.

Stuff the niceties,
she thought in anger.
I’m dying
.

You’re not dying
, Sebastian said softly in her head. His hand was on her shoulder.

She shrugged her shoulder in irritation and snapped. “I thought I told you not to touch me.”

“I thought we were past that,” he said as he helped her stand.

“We’re not,” she grouched aloud.

Staring around her as she caught her breath, her eyes took in the vast and distant plains ahead. A land of ice and snow lay before her. And the lights. The lights of her dreams moved in ripples like soft sheets of color rippling in the wind. Red, blue, purple, and orange, ghosting over the plains.

They were just as beautiful as she remembered.

He leaned over and whispered, “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to see the rainbow lights with you.”

For a moment her heart melted. She swallowed and steadied her racing pulse.

Keep your head,
Ciardis chanted internally as she closed her eyes.
This is the same boy who let you be tortured
.

She felt Sebastian’s sorrow through their bond but she firmly pushed it away, turned around, and took a step back.

Crossing her arms in front of her chest defiantly, she said, “All right, so talk. What am I really here for? Because as pretty as those lights are, I know you have an ulterior motive.”

He watched her for a moment then nodded out to the plains. “This is where Barnaren comes for meetings with subordinates.”

“So?” she said shortly.

“Meetings I am not invited to.”

“You’re jealous?” she said incredulously.

“No!” he snapped. “He doesn’t include anyone else. Him, his mages, and his closest commanders. There’s something wrong, something off.”

“And you think the answer is here?”

He took a step past her to edge of the ramparts. “I do.”

She sighed, raised her hand, and then dropped it back down to her waist with a heavy
thud
. “Then what is it?”

Sebastian had turned around. She turned with him to see a man appear on the edge of the ramparts like a ghost. “I was hoping he could tell us.”

Ciardis frowned. To her surprise, Lord Crassius of the Golden Sight stood before her.

He bowed and said, “Lady Weathervane, a pleasure to see you once more.”

When he stood his eyes twinkled with mirth. Ciardis looked him over with unease. It always felt like the man was mocking her silently.

“Lord Crassius, I thought you served the general?” Direct and to the point.

“I serve the Empire. Just as I did when I assured the head of the Companions’ Guild that your gifts were most needed,” he responded just as directly.

Touché
.

She raised her chin and narrowed her eyes. “And exactly how do you serve the Empire upon these ramparts, my lord?”

“By using my gifts, of course. You know of my abilities to assess the gifts of mages, but I also have Farsight.”

“Farsight?” she said with a little hint of scorn.

“A most useful gift at this juncture,” said Sebastian, interjecting smoothly, “Because the general doesn’t meet at the base of the ramparts, he and his men are a mile away under a sight and sound shield.”

Ciardis turned to him impatiently. “If they are shielded, why are they not meeting closer to camp?”

“Paranoia,” said Sebastian and Crassius simultaneously.

She sighed while rubbing her brow. “And how do you suggest we break their sight and sound shields?”

“With your gifts,” Lord Crassius said, holding out his hand palm up, “we won’t need to.”

She had to admit she was irritated, but she’d served the empire just as much if not more than Crassius had. She wouldn’t let Sebastian down, not in service to the empire. “Very well.”

He gave a short bow and led her to the edge of the ramparts until she stood between him and the Prince Heir.

“Let’s see what we can see, then,” Crassius said softly, with a squeeze of her hand.

Ciardis felt the chill of the wind on her face and neck, but that was soon forgotten as they dropped into the magic of Lord Crassius’s gift. He took her over the ice and snow as fast as if they rode on a sled speeding across the snow. Through the wind and the rainbow lights she could make out a large bubble, invisible to the naked eye but visible to the combined magesight of Ciardis and Crassius.

They dropped down until they hovered over the bubble, and Crassius whispered, “Grab the Prince Heir’s hand. I’ll project to him.”

Ciardis wasn’t sure why he was whispering—it wasn’t like the people in the bubble could hear them—but she did as she was told.

She grabbed Sebastian’s hand and felt him drop smoothly into their projection. As she gripped the hands of both men at her side tightly, Ciardis felt her nervous tendencies bubble up as they dropped slowly through the sight and sound shield and into the interior.

On the packed snow stood General Barnaren, his second in command, and two mages that she did not know but recognized from the elaborate robes they wore.

Barnaren didn’t seem to realize he was being spied on, because he didn’t look up when they dropped down to float above his head.

“Sire,” said the major, “the creatures are restless. They haven’t stopped moving forward for days now.”

“I know,” growled the general. “But there’s only one way to stop them before they can open that thrice-damned gate.”

One of the mages frowned. “We’ve told you before that it’s just a superstition. There is no god, the gate will not open, and the creatures will die there.”

Barnaren said flatly, “You also told me that the Sarvinians weren’t a problem. That it was taken care of. And yet what do I find? Fracking spidersilks raining down on my head.”

“Those spidersilks weren’t from the escapees,” protested the other mage.

Ciardis turned to Sebastian.
Escapees? Gate? Gods? What in the world are they talking about?

Sebastian didn’t answer her unspoken questions. He was too busy concentrating on the conversation.

“Yes,” the major reluctantly agreed. “They were battle-trained. They had to come from the hordes across the northern border.”

“I don’t
care
,” shouted the general in a rage, pounding his fist down on the table.

He grabbed the closest mage by the throat. “I don’t care if they are Sarvinian hordes or refugees.
Find them
and take care of it.”

The mage was choking. He dropped on his knees in the snow once Barnaren released him.

Without glancing at his fallen colleague the other mage said, “And the prince? He’s been asking questions.”

The general said with a thunderous growl, “I’ll take care of the Prince Heir.”

The mage gulped and nodded nervously.

“Now take us back to camp. I have papers to dispatch,” was the thundered order.

The mages blanched. The first looked to the major, who gave a hasty nod. He dropped the sound and sight shield. The second mage transported all of the conspirators back to camp.

Ciardis, Crassius, and Sebastian raced back under Crassius’s power to the ramparts. He cut the connection and they all stumbled a bit from being back in their bodies after traveling such a long distance.

“What did that all mean?” Ciardis said.

“I don’t know,” Sebastian admitted, “but it troubles me greatly. The hordes from Sarvinia are coming and some have escaped. Perhaps deserters?”

“Do you think they’ll join our cause?” Ciardis asked.

“They’re evil,” said Sebastian flatly. “None of the Sarvinians would ever help an Algardian.”

“I think we have bigger problems that need dealing with,” interjected Lord Crassius.

“Like what?” asked Sebastian.

“The death threat against your life, for one.”

Ciardis admitted, “I don’t think it was a death threat, necessarily.”

Crassius and Sebastian looked at her with disbelief.

Sebastian said point blank, “What are we going to do about it?”

“We need an armed contingent. One that is loyal to you. Not to the general,” said Crassius.

Sebastian said softly, “And these men aren’t. They might serve the Empire, but they have served under the general for decades. They idolize him.”

“Yes,” said Crassius, his face guarded. “There is a regiment in a vale seventy miles from here. If I ride fast and muster them, I can have them here in less than a week.”

“Then I suggest you ride, Lord Crassius,” said Sebastian, looking back over his shoulder at Kane and icy field ahead, “because I think we’ll need them.”

Lord Crassius nodded, bowed, and climbed down the rampart, leaving Ciardis and Sebastian alone.

“Do you really think Barnaren would try to assassinate you?”

“I think it’s best to be prepared. No matter what. I’m not leaving. Which is what he wants. He may feel he doesn’t have another choice.”

“Right,” Ciardis agreed reluctantly.

Sebastian turned to her. “He’s on his way back to camp and can’t know we’ve been here. Or that we’re once more in accord. We need to leave separately.”