Sworn To Conflict: Courtlight #3 (19 page)

As if he could sense her gaze on his back, her brother turned around to face her slowly. Giving her time to take in his visage. The thick, golden hair that wasn’t curly but wavy, the pale, bronzed skin, and the golden Weathervane eyes. He was practically the spitting image of her. She didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before. Admittedly, a spitting image that hadn’t seen a lot of sun in a while. His skin was paler all over and his hair had a washed-out look to it, lacking the luster and sheen of her curls. But still there was no doubt in her mind. He was her twin brother.

And he was with the enemy.

His piercing gaze met her own and she saw something she thought she’d never see in a traitor’s eyes: relief.

He smiled. “Sister.”

She pinned her lips to keep from returning his smile, aching to acknowledge the only living family member she had ever known.

As he came forward she muttered one word, “Traitor.”

He halted his advance to stand directly in front of her, and surprise crossed his face.

Faux surprise, apparently, as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Careful, sister, you wouldn’t want our allies to think you are not of our cause.”

“I’m not,” retorted Ciardis brazenly. She had no fear. She might have been scared shitless of being eaten, but her loyalties were always firm. She wouldn’t betray her friends or her loyalty to the crown.

“Don’t worry, we had no worries that she was of our cause,” said the same Daemoni male who had met them at the beginning of the trail surrounded by hellhounds.

Ciardis turned around to frown at him and her brother mirrored her position defensively.

“Thanar,” her twin brother said tightly.

Bowing, the Daemoni male responded mockingly, “Caemon. Never fear. We aren’t fools. Now both Weathervanes will serve our cause.”

“I serve no one,” said Ciardis with defiance.

Caemon let a stubborn glint enter his eyes as he said softly, “You misunderstand my dedication to this cause, Thanar. I fight to free all those enslaved. I don’t care for your petty grudges again the humans.”

Enslaved
? Ciardi thought, miffed.

Thanar smiled cruelly as he sauntered forward. “But you fight with us?”

“Of course,” said Caemon sharply. He moved to stand just slightly in front of his sister. He was no fool. Thanar was a cruel tyrant—within and outside of his own race.

Thanar smiled. “And your sister?”

“She—”

“His sister can speak for herself,” said Ciardis loudly.

She heard the almost silent growl of the hellhounds as they gathered around their master, and she realized for the first time that all chatter and laughter had stopped. Any
kith
who had previously stood near them had backed away until they encircled the three. Frantically she looked around for Inga, and found her forced to her knees with two frost giants at her shoulder and a giant spider holding a serrated blade to her neck. Inga was bleeding heavily from a wound on her forehead and she looked like she was trying to speak. Her mouth was moving but no sound came out. Eventually she settled for a death glare at the giant spider.

How had she not heard the scuffle between Inga and her captors?

The Daemoni male in front of her, the one called Thanar, smile darkly and she saw his power surge. Of course,
magic
.

“Don’t fear for your friend,” said Thanar with silk in his voice. “A mere silencing spell has overcome her. And the blood is just superficial. She put up a fight when she realized we knew who you were.”

Ciardis paled. This wasn’t good. Depending on if they knew of her ties to the army or to the imperial family, it could be even worse.

Ciardis pulled a knife from her waist.

Thanar threw back his head and laughed, genuinely amused.

“That will not work on me, girl-child,” he said.

“I’m no child,” she spat out.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how long my people live?”

She refused to answer the question.

“For hundreds of years,” he said, completely unruffled by her lack of answer. “And you are what? Less than two decades old? You are a child.”

Ciardis raised her head with confidence. “What do you want with us?”

“Your cooperation.”

“With what?”

“The war, of course.”

“Not possible. Can we go now?” Ciardis shifted warily on her feet. Prepared to fight or run. Knowing neither would allow her to last very long.

“You and Warlord Inga are free to leave. You will die on the cold tundra.” Surprise and resentfulness colored her thoughts.

“I think we’re wily enough to survive.”

He smiled in delight. “Not if I strip you of all weapons, all clothes, and put a disorientation spell on you.”

“Creative,” she spat out.

“You haven’t seen creative, child.”

Ciardis said, “May I speak with my brother?”

“By all means,” he said with an accommodating wave of his hands.

Ciardis turned to Caemon as if they weren’t standing in the midst of a crowd of enemy
kith
and hissed, “What were you thinking, coming here? Serving them? You might be bound, but you serve a greater cause.”

“A greater cause? What would you know of a greater cause?”

“I know that I am not fool enough to think I could win my freedom by serving an evil horde.”

Her brother’s eyes grew cold, “Watch your tongue, sister. Thanar is a right bastard, but I have friends among this horde, as you so call them. When I joined I was thinking of fairness. Of justice.

“Did you honestly think the Sarvinians would give you freedom?”

He said in disgust, “This isn’t about my freedom. Look around you!”

He gestured at the children huddled at their parents’ feet, the adults with unfriendly gazes, and the downtrodden nature of everyone’s appearance.

“Do you think they want to be here? To have to flee to a small valley? A sanctuary?”

Ciardis glanced around and then back at him, not seeing the point.

“Do you know what this place is a sanctuary from?”

She watched her brother with wary eyes, shaking her head slightly.

“The mines,” he said with slumped shoulders. “The damned mines of Sarvinia.”

“What Sarvinian mines? The kingdom next door? What does that have to do with us?” Ciardis whispered back fiercely.

Everyone knew the stories. The king of Sarvinia was a ruthless ruler who punished his people indiscriminately and tortured his detractors. She sighed as she took a good look around at the
kith
around them. Some bore the marks of chains and manacles that even she could see. She had mistaken their laughter for happiness when perhaps it was more a sense of relief at being free. She eyed her brother. He fought for these people who had no other, whose king had turned against them, and whose world had been reduced to the life of backbreaking chattel.

Making a decision she turned to Thanar in empathy as she said, “I know that the king of Sarvinia is an evil man. So does the Prince Heir. Why not ally with the Empire against him? Request supplies and funds in support of your cause. Why invade Algardis?”

Thanar simply looked at her with something akin to pity in his eyes.

“Because the king of Sarvinia is a mirage,” said her brother softly from behind her. “One created by the Imperial courts to justify their means to an end.”

Ciardis turned to her brother in disbelief.

Caemon turned to Thanar and said, “She won’t believe me unless I show her proof.”

Thanar said, “Then show her.”

“Come, sister,” Caemon said, holding out an entreating hand. “Let me show you what the Empire has hidden all along.”

She stared at him as if he had gone crazy. Ciardis shook her head violently, her chestnut curls flying every which way.

“You’re wrong,” she said, her voice shaking.

“If I’m wrong,” said Caemon calmly, “then you have nothing to lose.”

Ciardis took a steadying breath and put her left hand in his.

He led her through the crowds, which partly quietly before them. None of the
kith
spoke, none touched them, but Ciardis read the accusations in their eyes. Every creature had pain-filled orbs, every child shrank back in fear from the touch of her cloak. By the time they had walked through all of the people, silent tears dotted her cheeks.

They walked until they stood in front of small, round, dilapidated tent. It was a patched mess with too many holes, but she could see at a glance that it was well cared for. Outside of the tent sat a
kith
whose origin she did not know. He had a long beak like a crow, leathery skin like the fabled elephants of Sarvinia, and giant ears that flapped in the wind.

“This is Cat,” Caemon said to Ciardis.

“Hello, Cat,” whispered Ciardis.

The man didn’t lift his gaze from its fixed stare on the floor, where he traced an indecipherable pattern in the dirt on the ground.

“He was a slave of the Sarvinian mines,” said Caemon carefully. “He once stood as tall as Kane, as strong as Inga, and with muscles like an ox. The mines did this to him and more.”

Ciardis turned away from the distant creature in front of him to whisper fiercely to Caemon, “What do you want from me? To believe that the mines are real but the Sarvinian king is not?”

“No,” Caemon whispered back just as fiercely, his golden eyes glinting in the sun. “I want you to
know
that not only are the mines real, but that they are run by the Algardis emperor.”

Ciardis narrowed her eyes. “You’ve gone mad.”

Her brother laughed manically. “
I’ve
gone mad?”

He said mockingly, “You trust these people. The ones you’ve known for less than a year. I’ve lived under their cruel reign for my entire life as a slave.”

“I know,” she whispered back desperately, “but the people at court are different.”

“The people at court?” he said incredulously. “They are the very instigators of this tragedy.”

Ciardis reeled back as if slapped. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that it was the Imperial courts that invented the fable of Sarvinia. A fable to get what they wanted from the mines.”

“Why would they do that? Why would they invent the king?” Ciardis said as she walked away in disgust.

“And a kingdom,” her brother pointed out.

Ciardis halted. “Are you now saying that the very Sarvinians I see around me are not real, either?” He detected the mockery in her tone and smiled.

“Oh, they are real, but they aren’t Sarvinian. After the Initiate Wars the Empire realized they couldn’t continue to mine the great northern mines without
kith
help. The air and land were too toxic for human miners. But the
kith
contingents refused to serve any longer in the dark and dangerous underground caverns. They refused to continue looking for the precious gifts the humans sought. And the humans couldn’t force them. At least not the
kith
, who lived in Algardis, those who had signed the contract with the land in blood and were now protected by its treaty.”

Ciardis stared at her brother. She could hardly believe the tales that came from his lips.

He continued, unabated, “But those at court knew of other
kith
.
Kith
that lived beyond our borders. They crossed into the wastelands of what is now called Sarvinia, enslaved them, and continue to round up more slaves to this day. That small encampment of soldiers for the Algardis Army? Slave holders.”

Ciardis opened her mouth to protest, but Caemon beat her to it. “Have you never wondered why a group of soldiers tasked with fighting a war was so small?”

She closed her mouth, doubt fixed in her mind.

“Because there is no war,” he said heavily. “The frost giants? They round up and kill all the escaped slaves. Some barely armed.”

“And you?” Ciardis said softly.

“Tasked to enhancing the powers of the concealment mages and, later, of cleaning up your mess,” he said ruefully.

“My mess?”

“When you freed the Land Wight from the chains that bound it, it became, for lack of a better word, busy
,
” he said, “it didn’t like that there were
kith
on its border that were being treated so badly. Citizens of Algardis or not.”

Ciardis rubbed her eyelids in irritation. A lot of mess seemed to be coming back to that Land Wight. That and the death of the Princess Heir at the hands of Sebastian’s guards. When she had broken the chains binding Sebastian’s powers to a locket that had drained him of his gifts since the age of five, she never imagined such horrid and far-reaching consequences. She thought that by restoring the natural bond between a Prince and the land, incorporated in the form of the natural spirit of the Land Wight she would be doing good and she
had
. At least she hoped she had. But so far, death and despair seem to following much too closely.

Caemon continued, “So the Land Wight has been doing what it can to interfere in General Barnaren’s plans. He had me counteracting the Land Wight and eventually shielding the mages.”

Caemon shrugged with a ghost of a smile. “I got lucky, actually. The mages needed me so much that they had to loosen the restrictions on the geas.”

She raised an eyebrow. “These,” he said, wiggling his wrists to show off the metal armbands.

“They bound me hand and foot to a caretaker before,” he said. “The stupid man died in an avalanche. I was free. I ran to the first place I thought I could get help for the
kith
cause.”

“The Ameles Forest,” they said in unison.

He nodded. “Unfortunately the Shadowwalker found me first and was able to bind me, as he had powerful death magic and stole the geas from the shade of the former caretaker who died in the avalanche. The bastard. Then he left me in the tree line while he fought his battle with you.”

Realization sparked in Ciardis’s eyes. “The Shadowwalker died. You were free again.”

Her brother nodded.

“Tell me something,” Ciardis said. “How have you been getting around and appearing so quickly?”

“Uh uh, dear sister,” he said. “You may be family, but I don’t trust you just yet.”