Sworn To Conflict: Courtlight #3 (14 page)

Ciardis nodded grudgingly. “I need to see the general personally about some swords anyway. I’ll see you upon my return.”

“And remember: Act like we haven’t seen each other since the battle.”

Ciardis slipped away with her mind on what they had just learned. Unfortunately she left before Sebastian could comment further. He had been about to tell her that he and the general were on their way to see the Old Ones in less than an hour. He would just have to make sure his guards were prepared for any confrontations.

Ciardis, Kane, and Inga returned to camp in record time. Once they arrived they only needed to retrace their steps back on their way to the general’s quarters. That was where he had said he was heading.

It was a much longer route to travel by sled and feet than by magic, so she was fairly certain they hadn’t beaten him there.

When they reached General Barnaren’s command tent four guards waited in formation. Ciardis looked uncomfortably left and right, expecting one of her two companions to speak up. Neither opened their mouths.

She sighed in irritation and said to the honor guard at the tent entrance, “Ciardis Weathervane, Lieutenant Kane, and Warlord Inga to see General Barnaren.”

The four guards’ gazes didn’t waver from the stoic look they had mastered. One said, “He is not present.”

“Would you know where we could find him?”

A second guard spoke up. “We’re not privileged to share that information.”

“I don’t think you understand. We need to speak with him. Urgently.”

The guards didn’t confer, didn’t speak.

When she tried to press them, Kane sighed and said, “They’re not going to tell you, Ciardis.”

“I need him. I’m supposed to be able to find him wherever he is in camp.”

“Not with a frost giant by your side,” said a voice that Ciardis recognized. Her feelings raised in turmoil. Anger clouded her mind while a feeling of relief threatened to overcome it as she turned around.

“Good morning, Lady Vana,” Ciardis said. A hint of frost laced her tone.

Vana smirked and raised a perfect dark eyebrow as she took a bite of a juicy peach. Today she was wearing leathers and had knives stashed fortuitously in pockets on her body. Her eyes said that if Ciardis wanted to play the bitch game then she would win.

Ciardis didn’t back down. She was still pissed at Vana.

“Good morning, Weathervane. I take it you want to see your protector.”

Ciardis snapped, “He’s not my protector.”

“He set you up with a healer, with guards, and with a purpose. Did he not?”

Ciardis didn’t know what she meant by “purpose.”

“That doesn’t make him any more than a commander with a new charge.”

“If you think that then you’re a fool.”

Ciardis hated that. Hated the assumptions. But she needed Vana.

“
We
,” she said, gesturing at Kane and Inga, “need to see the commander on frost giant business.”

“I figured,” Vana said, biting down again on the succulent peach. Where had it come from? They were in the middle of a freaking wasteland.

“Well, will you help us or not?” This from Kane. Ciardis was grateful for the help.

Vana didn’t acknowledge his presence. She walked toward Ciardis and Kane stepped in front of her smoothly, shielding Ciardis and preventing Vana from stepping closer. Vana threw her head back and laughed.

“Do you really want this fight, Lieutenant?”

“I’m charged with her safety,” he said with steely eyes. “You don’t look very safe.”

“You know who I am?”

“I know what you are.”

Vana stilled in the morning air. “Have a care, soldier.”

“I would ask you to do the same.”

Vana tilted her head to the side and said with admiration in her voice, “I don’t know how you do it, Weathervane.”

Ciardis peeked around Kane’s waist. “Do what?”

“Convince everyone in your orbit that you’re the most precious thing in existence.”

“That’s never happened,” Ciardis said.

Vana walked casually around Kane and he turned with her to keep her in his sights. “Then explain why your guard died for you last night and this one challenges me knowing he would die in less than a minute.”

Ciardis snuck a glance at Kane. His face was unreadable.

“Magnetic personality,” was the amused interjection from Inga, who stood next to them. Ciardis’s mouth opened and closed silently in disbelief. Was the frost giant warrior joking with Vana? Could they even joke?

“Let’s go, Weathervane,” Vana said. “I know where the general is.”

“A minute?” Ciardis whispered to Kane as they followed behind Vana.

“She’s lying. Five minutes.”

A sharp laugh came from Vana in front.

W
hen they caught up with General Barnaren and his men, Ciardis was surprised to find them mounted up and preparing to ride out. With Ciardis, Vana, Inga, and Kane directly in their path. Vana didn’t stop; in fact, she sauntered up to the mounted party, looking for all the world like a vixen fixed on her prey. At least that’s what it looked like to Ciardis, who walked behind her, where every twitch of the reflective leather on Vana’s hips caught the light of the morning sun. She was too fixated to tell which of these lucky gentlemen had caught Vana’s attention, though.

Which Ciardis liked to think was why she didn’t notice the waiting party off to the side before throats had cleared and she’d walked straight into Kane’s back. Stumbling back, face flaming, she turned quickly to find Sebastian turning a laugh into a fisted cough from where he rode high up on a black stallion. Around him his guard was silent. And next to them was a person that made Ciardis wonder what the gods had against her.

Mounted up, sidesaddle, in a riding gown that made Ciardis feel like a shabby imposter was Lady Serena, Ciardis’s Companions’ Guild sponsor. The very same sponsor she’d successfully managed to avoid for months and had had replaced, albeit not deliberately, by the head of the Companions’ Guild. Maree Amber hadn’t been fond of what she scathingly referred to as Serena’s incompetence, and Ciardis wasn’t particularly happy to see her vapid, head-in-the-clouds sponsor, either. Slowly she realized her mouth was agape and Serena was staring down at her with an irritated expression. Knowing Serena, she was either upset about Ciardis’s homespun attire or her failure to properly acknowledge their relationship in front of the commanding general and prince of the realm, or both.

Ciardis dipped into a short curtsy and straightened.

“Lady Serena, what a pleasure to see you again,” she lied through gritted teeth.

“I know,” bubbled Serena. “Darling Prince Heir Sebastian invited me to come north and I just couldn’t refuse. I haven’t been this far since...well...twenty years ago or so.”

She snapped open her fan and waved it flippantly. “Aside from that rather boring side visit to your little village, of course.”

Ciardis cut her eyes to the prince, who was practically shaking with laughter by Serena’s side, and she couldn’t help the urge to wrap her hands around his throat. Oh, she hadn’t wanted him touching her a day ago. Now she couldn’t wait to get him alone so she could throttle him. How dare he! First he sanctioned her torture; then he humiliated her
.
And he hadn’t even had the courtesy to give her some notice that Lady Serena was here.

A voice broke the silence that reigned after Lady Serena’s statement.

“Lady Serena has offered to come with us and use her projecting skills during the meeting between the Old Ones and our contingent,” General Barnaren said with gravel in his voice.

“I see,” said Ciardis faintly.

“You are welcome to come, Weathervane,” the general continued. “In fact your presence might be needed to help clear the mountain passes of frost from last night’s fall.”

Ciardis sincerely hoped he meant her mage gift. She wasn’t really up to hefting an ice pick over and over. Before she could agree, Warlord Inga spoke. “We have come for something owed. Something promised. The Weathervane doesn’t go until that promise is fulfilled.”

Ciardis watched with a bad feeling as she saw all mirth fade from Prince Heir Sebastian’s face as he lowered his hand to his reins and kneed his horse forward in order to face the warlord directly.

“Is that a threat?”

“No, boy—it’s a promise.”

The ominous sound of swords leaving their scabbards sounded in the clearing. His guards wouldn’t take lightly to the insult. Neither would the surrounding soldiers. Ciardis sighed. She was getting heartily tired of swords being the answer to every contention. Before his soldiers could speak, Sebastian held up a gloved hand to silence his men.

“If you were not aware before, then let me inform you,” Sebastian said quietly. “I am Sebastian Athanos Algardis, Prince Heir to this realm and Ciardis Weathervane’s sworn Patron. Therefore what concerns her concerns me.”

Ciardis thought that was stretching it a bit, but she didn’t point that out.

“Very well,” Inga said, nodding politely. “I am Warlord Inga of the frost giant race. I have come to your general to get what is owed to my warriors: weapons. That is all.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Your people fought well yesterday.”

“As we do always.” Teeth bared in what Ciardis privately thought was Inga’s attempt at a smile. She wasn’t sure Sebastian saw it the same way.

Sebastian studied Inga for a moment and then turned slightly to face the general. They conferred silently.

“Marcus!” the general bellowed.

A man, Barnaren’s valet, came rushing forward.

“Extend my orders to the Master of Supply. All of the women of Warlord Inga’s command are to be outfitted with fire swords and expanding shields.”

Turning to Inga, he said politely, “I hope you understand the wait for full armor will take a while. The blacksmith must size and fit everyone.”

“It is understood.” A gleam of satisfaction glittered in Inga’s eyes.

Marcus rose up on his toes to whisper something in the general’s lowered ear. Barnaren’s eyes closed slightly as if he was in deep thought. A smile crossed his face as he looked back at Warlord Inga.

To Marcus, Barnaren said, “Bring them.” The valet rushed off.

“Warlord Inga, the Prince Heir and I ride with six of our best warriors and four mages to meet the Old Ones. We’ve been asked to limit our party to show a measure of faith. We would be pleased if you and your warriors would join us.”

“Will you give up your men, then?” Inga said with cautious eyes.

“No,” said Barnaren with calculation. “Each party is considered a separate contingent for negotiation.”

Ciardis startled at that. Why would that be? Who would possibly consider members of the army and Imperial presence as separate entities? Individuals who knew how fractured the alliance really was, she realized.

Inga smiled. “Then we will come.”

“Summon your women.”

“They already come.”

True to Inga’s word, five of her women warriors were already crossing the ridge and quickly jogging to meet their waiting party.

Ciardis spoke up. “And Kane and Vana?”

Sebastian cast an assessing glance over her small party. “Vana is already a part of our riding party. Kane is your personal guard—an extension of you, as it were.”

“Just as Marcus is to me,” the general said. Ciardis took a closer look at the general’s valet. The man had just come back with five swords in hand, not to mention the fact that he himself was armed with a well-worn set of arrows and a bow. It looked like the valet was much more than just a valet.

He walked over to Inga’s waiting party and handed a sword to each woman. The moment the swords met the hands of their new owners, they each expanded in size until they perfectly matched the frost giant warrior who held them. The women warriors smiled in thanks. All of them had teeth shaved to sharp points. The valet didn’t whiten in fear. But it was close. 

Ciardis wondered why Inga didn’t have the same shaven teeth as well, as she waited for an attendant to bring her a horse. She never had the chance to ask. The attendant came in that moment. Mounting up, they set out.

*****

A
s the sun rose high in the sky, Ciardis had cause to regret her quick acquiesce. If she thought working from sunup to sundown in the healer’s tent yesterday was hard, she thought riding astride after weeks of not being in the saddle was harder. By the time they’d been riding for three hours her bottom was chapped in places she didn’t know it could be chapped, and she was seriously considering walking. Anything to stop this ceaseless bouncing up and down atop the horse.

She envied Inga and her race. They all ran ceaselessly beside the mounted party with little effort.

Before long Lady Serena rode up to her and hissed, “Really, Ciardis Weathervane! You’re embarrassing our Guild name. Gather your seat!”

Ciardis almost snapped that she would have gathered the seat if she could have a long time ago, but the gait of the mare they’d given her was rough. She was a draft horse, and an older one at that. Not to mention the fact that her back was far too wide for Ciardis’s petite form. It made for an uncomfortable ride no matter what she did.

After watching her struggle Lady Serena huffed off in irritation, possibly to go extend her charms to a more appreciative audience. Ciardis couldn’t care less. The woman got on her nerves. As they rode her vision narrowed to white, white, and more white. The white of packed snow under their horses’ hooves, the white of flurries of snowflakes all around them, the white glare of the sun bouncing off of the tall icy peaks of the Northern Mountains. It was at once both eerie and beautiful. Eerie because no other life was present aside from their trailing party. No hawks soared on the wind, no hares jumped in the snow, and no mountain lions roared in the distance. The last she could do without. Motionless with unease, Ciardis gripped her reins tighter and stared around.

“How much farther?” she called back over her shoulder. She didn’t want to be out here any longer than she had to.

“The consensus is that we’ll meet up with the Old Ones in the mountain pass. About half an hour’s ride from here,” Kane said from where he rode behind her.