The Dread: The Fallen Kings Cycle: Book Two (21 page)

“They were, indeed, troubling, although they offered little useful information,” Kellen said. “When the sleeping potion Brother Felix gave Renate wore off, he was only able to recall a few images. He saw a large shadow—a woman’s shadow, he said—rising from the dead places, burying grounds, and cairns, marshes, and sickly swamps. The shadow made the ground shake and brought with it fire and flood. Everything was swept away before it, and the wretches who survived fell down on their knees and worshipped it.”

Cam looked grim. “What else?”

“He saw the shadow fall on Aberponte, and it made the foundations of the castle shake. He saw the sun turn from its normal course to rise in the north, and he saw a strange flag fly above the palace. He says there were other images, terrible sights, but he doesn’t remember them, or can’t put words to them.” Kellen looked from Cam to Wilym. “What do you make of it?”

“Unfortunately, some of it sounds familiar.” Cam’s voice was tight. “When I left Dark Haven several months ago, Jonmarc Vahanian was having problems with the
Durim, black-robed fanatics who wanted to revive the worship of a long-banished goddess, Shanthadura, the face of Chaos. The sacrifices you mention, and the desecration of tombs, sound like what Jonmarc encountered. The Durim work blood magic, and they especially like to use the blood of the
vyrkin
and
vayash moru
to invoke their power.”

Kellen shuddered. “I don’t know what chills me more, that these things are happening elsewhere, or that the Black Robes would desire such an end for all of us.”

“The other images appear all too easily read,” Wilym added. “The sun rising in the north would appear to mean a new day, one ruled by power from the north, which would seem to describe Temnotta. And an unfamiliar flag is clear enough. Whoever worked this magic would see a change of kings for Isencroft.”

Cam shook his head to clear the headache that was beginning behind his temples. “What worries me is the way the vision melds the two: Divisionist and Durim. In Dark Haven, the Durim—the Black Robes—appeared to care nothing for mortal kings. Their fight was with the Sacred Lady, to replace her worship with that of Shanthadura. Yet Renate’s vision seems to suggest that there is a connection between the Durim and the Temnottan invasion, which is the doing of Alvior and his Divisionists.” He met Kellen’s eyes. “I would like to be wrong about that, but I don’t see how else to read the omens.”

“While I’m glad for the warning, I’m also just as happy to leave reading omens to Brother Felix,” Wilym said, stretching. “I’m a military man, and I prefer to spend my time fighting enemies that I can see.”

Cam looked back at Kellen. “You never said—did the
nenkah
appear to be affected by Renate’s nightmare?”

Kellen met his eyes. “Our ceremony gave the
nenkah
breath, as the proxy of the new queen, but not movement. When Brother Felix felt it was safe to go into the necropolis and check, he found the wardings strong and undisturbed. And yet, the
nenkah
lay curled up on itself like a frightened child, a rag arm covering its face. No one had moved it, and yet, it moved.”

Wilym let out a long breath. “I don’t know whether to wish that Kiara arrives soon, to end the regency and the issue with the
nenkah
, or to hope that she stays far away from Isencroft until this cursed business is finished.”

“Before I forget, let me see what the news is from Brunnfen,” Cam said, breaking the seal on the parchment. “It’s from Renn, all right,” Cam confirmed. “His writing is so small and cramped it strains my eyes.”

Cam gave Wilym and Kellen a shortened version of the letter as he folded it and slipped it beneath his tunic. “By rights, I should be at Brunnfen with Renn and Captain Lange. He’s hardly more than twenty summers old, and he’s already managed to outfox Alvior twice—once as his prisoner, and now foiling his return.” Cam shook his head. “I feel wrong to claim the title of Lord of Brunnfen and let my little brother protect the manor.”

Wilym clapped Cam on the shoulder. “It’s no shame to
leave your manor in the care of another to serve your king, and by the Lady, Isencroft needs you here with the army.”

Cam sighed. “I know I had no other choice, but it doesn’t mean my conscience rests any easier. Renn’s smart and tough, and Captain Lange has the experience Renn lacks. I don’t doubt that Alvior will make more attempts to return there. We found a secret room he’d outfitted for a mage, and by the look of it, a dark summoner. Renn and I destroyed all of the equipment that we dared and managed to get one of the Sisterhood mages to cart off the rest of the magical items. But I regret leaving Renn to defend it on his own.”

Wilym chuckled. “I happen to know Vyn Lange. His garrison has a reputation for doing the impossible against the odds—as I’m betting you well know. You’ve hardly left your brother to handle the threat alone, backed up by several hundred of the toughest soldiers in Isencroft. So let your conscience rest and keep your mind on our problems here.”

“We have enough to keep us busy, don’t we?”

Wilym’s smile faded as he sobered. “That’s the Goddess’s own truth. As soon as Alvior and the Temnottans regroup, I think we’ll have our hands full.”

K
iara Sharsequin Drayke, Queen of Margolan and Isencroft, shivered in the cold autumn rain. It was past the midnight bells, and she was sore from riding. Her traveling cloak was long ago soaked through by the wet fog, and though she wore a woolen tunic and trews beneath her cloak, she was chilled to the bone. Cerise looked equally miserable, huddled in her sodden cloak. Jae rode behind Kiara, perched on the packs behind her saddle, and the gyregon scolded the weather with hisses. Royster seemed unfazed by the rain, and he hummed a ditty under his breath. Of all of them, Royster seemed happiest about their journey; he had jumped at the chance to extend his sabbatical by accompanying Kiara to Isencroft, eager to witness the war for his chronicles.

“Not too much farther. Look, from this hill, you can see the palace city, maybe the lights of Aberponte itself.” Balaren, one of Kiara’s new companions, urged her to nudge her weary horse up to the summit. Kiara sidled her horse up beside Balaren for a clear view. She gasped.

“Something’s very wrong,” Kiara said, looking out over the expanse. “Look there! Part of the city is on fire!”

The rest of her traveling companions clustered closer to see. Dense smoke poured from the northernmost corner of the old walled city. Across the valley, the muffled sounds of shouting carried on the night air.

Balaren turned back to Kiara with a worried expression. “Under normal circumstances, I would suggest spending the night at an inn and making the rest of the journey by daylight, but we’re too close to the palace for you to risk being recognized.” He paused. “I’d thought about suggesting that one of us,” he said, indicating the other
vayash moru
, “fly you past the city and palace walls and get you safely into Aberponte through a balcony, but since we’ve had the warning from Lord Vahanian that some of the
vayash moru
have joined the enemy, the palace defenses will be set against us ‘dropping in.’ ”

Kiara saw a mix of concern and determination in the faces of the other riders. She had left Shekerishet accompanied by seven mortal soldiers, three
vayash moru
bodyguards, and three
vyrkin
. The Margolan men-at-arms had delivered her to small group of Isencroft soldiers who had awaited her covert crossing at the border. While Kiara did not know the Isencroft soldiers personally, Balaren, one of the
vayash moru
, could vouch for them. Kiara shivered beneath her cloak. She was grateful that Balaren and the other
vayash moru
and
vyrkin
would remain with her at Aberponte for as long as she stayed in Isencroft. Her hand dropped to her belly as she added a fervent prayer to the goddess that her stay in her homeland would end before it was time to deliver this new heir.

“You’re right,” Kiara conceded. “We don’t dare stop so
close to the city. If that’s the case, then let’s ride, as I’d like to be out of the weather as soon as possible.”

They headed for the city riding three abreast, with Kiara safely on the inside. The road was rutted from heavy travel and recent rains, splashing mud onto their cloaks with every step of their horses.
You’ve gotten spoiled
, Kiara chided herself as her teeth chattered.
Remember what it was like when you rode with Tris to take back the throne? You were cold and wet enough times then, going without meals and hunted by Jared’s soldiers. You’ve survived worse
.

It took another candlemark’s ride before they reached the outskirts of the newer section of town, the buildings that had sprung up over the past hundred years outside the ancient city walls. The light from the windows of the buildings that hunched along the sides of the street could not compensate for the heavy fog and the lack of moonlight, and the shadows seemed ominously dark. But the feeling of dread, of anticipation of a coming storm, had little to do with the rain, Kiara thought. The whole city seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. And Kiara felt it in her gut that whatever was in the offing wasn’t going to be good.

“Can’t imagine how anything manages to burn in this weather,” Balaren murmured. The streets were nearly empty, but it felt to Kiara as if eyes watched them from every window that they passed.

“Ho, there. State your business.” Two guardsmen stepped from the shadows, blocking their way.

Kiara fidgeted as Captain Remir, one of the Isencroft bodyguards, edged his horse slightly in front of the group. “We have urgent business at the palace. We travel at the summons of the Regent.”

“You’re out past curfew,” the guardsman barked. “Do you have papers to show for yourselves?”

Remir dismounted and dug into his pouch for the letters of passage Count Renate had sent for them. Kiara kept her head down.
Things must be even worse than father told me, if the palace city is under curfew and papers are required to travel. It’s as if the city itself is under siege
.

The guardsman studied the papers so long that Kiara wondered if the man could read. Finally, he returned the documents to Remir and waved them through. “Stay on the main road if you know what’s good for you. There’s been trouble in the north ward tonight. The sooner you’re inside the walls, the better.” He stepped aside for them to pass, but Kiara felt the guardsman’s gaze on them as they filed past.

Kiara looked around as they passed through the outer city’s narrow streets. It looked as if a war had recently been fought in its alleys and ginnels. Some blocks of buildings were untouched, while others bore the obvious scars of recent fires. More than once, she spotted crude slogans scratched onto the brick with charcoal or cut into the wood with knives. Misspelled and profane, they called for a “free” kingdom and the end of a “traitor” king. She shivered again, though not from the cold.

Isencroft was hungry from bad harvests, but we hadn’t come apart at the seams when I left. Has so much had time to go wrong just since father’s death?

Twice more they encountered guards who demanded their papers as they wound their way uphill toward Aberponte. At the gates to the walled city, the guardsman returned the papers to Remir and still refused to let them pass.

“Let me see your faces. Papers can be forged.” The guard took down a lantern from under the overhang of the guardhouse roof. He moved in turn from one of Kiara’s companions to the next, but only when he neared her did she guess his true purpose.
He’s a mage
, she thought.
He’s doing his best to truth-sense, or at least check for glamours. Sweet Chenne! It must be dire for things to have come to this
.