Fyne Sisters - The Star Witch Part 29

He whispered hoa.r.s.ely, nonsense pa.s.sing his lips, and the witch leaned down. "What did you say? Perhaps I will one day tell Jahn of his father's last pathetic words, and we will laugh together," she taunted him. "Do you beg for your life or for your soul? Both are lost, and always have been. Jahn will not be weak like you," she said. "I will not allow it."

He muttered again, nonsense even he did not understand.

"If you're trying to delay my pursuit, you can save your precious breath. I can find those I seek with the magic I embrace, no matter how far ahead of me they are, no matter how long they have been out of my sight."

Sebestyen shook his head, and he reached weakly for the old woman, the old witch. "You must tell... it's important..." What would make her come closer? "The gold," he finished in a breath.

The hag, intrigued at last, leaned down a bit farther, and with his last bit of strength Sebestyen grabbed at her ragged garment and pulled her down. This time, when he aimed for her heart, he did not miss. "You will not touch my family," he whispered. "You will not have my son."

He did not have the strength to push the dead witch off his body, but it wasn't long before someone else moved the body for him. A soft voice twittered at him, scolding and angry and perhaps sad. When the weight of the witch was gone, Sebestyen opened his eyes.

Liane dropped down to her knees beside him. "Foolish man," she said. "What have you done?"

"You should not have come back," he answered. "Take the babies and go."

"Mahri and the nursemaid have the babies, and we have arranged a meeting place," Liane said sensibly.

"Why didn't you run? Why did you come back?" She could be well away from the palace by now, perhaps past the worst of the fighting.

"I came back for you." She tore back his ripped robe and looked at his wound, and then she went very still. "Gadhra did this."

Sebestyen nodded, or at least he tried to.

"And you killed her."

"The old hag wanted Jahn," he explained. "She was going to kill you and Alix and... and take Jahn. She wanted to do to him what the priests did to me, only what she planned for him was much worse. I couldn't let her have him." His fingers gripped Liane's skirt and held on tight. "Take the babies away and hide them. Don't let anyone know who they are. Until Arik has children, they are the first and second in line for emperor. The witch is dead, but there are others who would use them, others who will want to kill them, and you. Don't let that happen, Liane. Don't."

A few tears ran down her face, even though she rightly hated him. "I'll bind your belly, and you can come with me."

He shook his head. It was too late. He was dying, and while he feared what would come after his death, since he hadn't exactly lived a life of virtue and honor, he was ready to go. It was time. "I'm sorry." Sorry for more than he had time to say. Maybe she knew... maybe she understood him in a way no one else ever had.

"You can apologize for all you have done to me later."

"There is no later, Liane. Go."

"Not yet."

"Go, before someone sees you."

She leaned down and kissed him, not as she had in the years when she'd been his concubine, not as she had in the months she'd been his wife, but sweetly. Gently. It was a good way to go, he imagined.

"After everything you've done, I still love you," she said.

"I have loved you for as long as I can remember," he confessed. "I love the babies, too, in a very deep and unexpected way. I'm glad I got to see them. I'm sorry I... I'm sorry."

He lay there for a moment and thought about the babies. One fair in coloring, one dark. Away from the palace, what would they grow to be? Strong men, he imagined. Strong, decent men who would take care of their mother. Without Gadhra's influence or the interference of the priests, each would have a chance to become what he had not: a good and honorable man.

Liane still hadn't left his side. Soon the palace would be overrun with invaders, and she could not be here. Sebestyen knew the best thing he could do for the woman he loved was to die quickly.

So that's what he did.

LUCAN DIDN'T HAVE time to reach Isadora before the blade fell, but the lessons he had given her had instilled her with an instinctive talent. She turned, stepped smoothly aside, and deflected the attacker's blade with her own. By the time the sentinel had gathered his wits to try again, Lucan was there.

"I am no thief," Lucan said as he disarmed the sentinel.

The soldier glanced at the handful of jewels, which Lucan tossed aside. "I am searching for something that belongs to me, but I suspect it is not here. Where is the emperor?"

"I don't know, Captain." The sentinel waited bravely to die.

"The empress?" Isadora asked, her voice low and quick.

"I have not seen Empress Liane since she and the infant prince made an appearance at the Spring Festival." He swallowed hard. "She did not seem well."

"You have not seen her today," Isadora pressed.

"No. I believe they have made their escape and left a handful of us to fight for the throne. The battle has begun, and we are badly outnumbered." He glanced at his sword, which lay on the floor several feet away. "I suppose you'll kill me now."

Normally, he would do just that. The man had tried to strike Isadora with his blade! But Isadora had been very insistent about not killing unless he found it necessary. This sad little boy would live to make foolhardy decisions another day. "I can kill you, or I can take you prisoner."

"I would rather be dead than tortured on Level Twelve, or worse, dumped into Level Thirteen and forgotten."

"Arik doesn't strike me as the kind of man who will torture his prisoners, and I suspect Level Thirteen will be forgotten. I will have to bind your hands, however."

The sentinel gratefully offered his hands, and Lucan bound them tightly with a length of cord that had once been used to pull back a heavy drape. He then bound the man's ankles, and lashed him to the bedpost.

"You're going to leave me here!" the sentinel shouted as Lucan and Isadora headed for the door.

"Don't worry," Lucan called back. "You won't be alone for long, I imagine."

The palace was eerily silent without the hum of the unnatural lights and the Level One fans and the occasional screech of the lift. Strange that he should have become accustomed to those sounds in this short time here. Still, as he and Isadora descended the stairway to Level Ten, Lucan felt an unexpected relief. Maybe the Star of Bacwyr was gone forever, and he would not be Prince of Swords. His country needed a King, and a lasting peace would be welcomed by all the clans, but perhaps it was not yet meant to be.

As First Captain, he held great influence over the Circle. Even if he were not Prince, he could do his best to bring peace to the clans until the coming of the rightful Prince and the new King was upon them. And he could do it with Isadora at his side.

For now, his only objective was getting Isadora safely out of the palace. There was intense fighting beyond the palace walls, in the streets of the city surrounding the ma.s.sive edifice, but Sebestyen's soldiers were so badly outnumbered they did not stand a chance. What kind of a man would willingly die for a ruler like Emperor Sebestyen?

As they approached Level Ten, Lucan saw the witch's motionless form, and his heart skipped a beat. He had bound the old woman's hands tightly before leaving her alone in the room where the empress had been held captive. Some unnatural magic had freed her, he supposed. Had she succ.u.mbed to her wound? Or had someone finished her off as she'd attempted escape?

Before he took two more steps, he saw the other body and realized what had happened. Emperor Sebestyen was half sitting against one wall, his body as lifeless as the witch's, his eyes open and glazed. Lucan glanced down at the man's b.l.o.o.d.y right hand with a short-lived burst of hope, but there was no ring on his little finger.

Isadora placed her short sword aside and placed three fingers at the witch's throat, searching for a sign of life and finding none. She then turned to the emperor, and even though it was quite clear that he was dead, she touched her fingers to his throat as well.

"It appears they killed one another," she said.

"I can't say I'm sorry to see either of them dead," Lucan said without emotion, as he collected the sword Isadora had carried on this long day. She would have no more need of it, so he sheathed the weapon in the scabbard at his side.

Isadora glanced up at him in obvious annoyance. "Yes, but who will tell us where Liane and the babies are? Are they safe? Did he secret them somewhere before Gadhra killed him? How will I prove to myself that my job here is done if I can't find Liane?"

Lucan offered his hand, and Isadora took it. He helped her to her feet. "I suggest we start by asking your sister."

"You have always insisted that you didn't care for magic," Isadora said sullenly.

"I don't want magic to touch me, that's true. But if making use of your sister's talents is what it takes to satisfy you, then that is what we will do." He did not release her hand. "I have always taken the counsel of wizards, love. Asking Juliet for guidance will be no different. Now, come. We can put an end to this battle with the news that Emperor Sebestyen is dead."

"Good." Isadora threaded her fingers through his.

"And once we learn of the empress's whereabouts from your sister, I will ask you to marry me once again. I never thought I'd have to all but beg a woman to marry me."

"Yes, your ego is quite healthy in those respects."

They moved toward the exit hand in hand, and before they walked outside, where the din of battle reached their ears much more clearly, Isadora said, "I do not wish to return to this place, ever."

"Done," he said, happy to grant her this one simple desire.

"And I hope I never have to wield a sword again."

"I will protect you with my sword, and you will have need of no other."

He climbed up onto a stone wall that surrounded and protected the palace entrance and surveyed the scene before him. In all directions, soldiers fought. Juliet's Anwyn and their spears, Arik's rebels, sentinels who had turned against their leader. Circle warriors and representatives from three clans of Tryfyn had already moved from the west to the center of the battle, and they were very swiftly making their way forward. Soldiers had fallen in all directions... Sebestyen's soldiers and Arik's.

Lucan lifted his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Emperor Sebestyen is dead!" At first, there was no reaction to his announcement, so he shouted again, more loudly this time. A few heads turned, but not enough. What was he to do? Running into the fray, he could reach some of the soldiers, but it would take much too long to get word to all the combatants in that fashion.

"Darling," Isadora called, and he realized this was not the first time she had tried to catch his attention.

Lucan glanced down at her. With her head tipped back to look at him, and her hair and gown mussed from the excitement of the day, she was more beautiful than he had ever imagined any woman could be.

"I can help, if you will allow it," she said, raising her hand slowly.

After a moment's hesitation, he sat on the wall, leaned over, and reached down to her. When she laid her hand in his, he clasped it tightly and drew her up. When she was well balanced, she stood, and after standing there for a moment she cast an uncertain glance his way. "It will not touch you," she said softly. "But it will help you."

He nodded, and she turned to the battle scene spreading across the streets of Arthes and lifted her hands. She said, "Laleh antaga." And then she looked at him and translated, in a softer voice, "Hear well."

Again, Lucan shouted the news that Sebestyen was dead. This time, many heads turned his way. Swords fell. Weary men stopped fighting and faced Lucan as if they awaited more words. A few soldiers continued to fight, either because they had not heard or because they did not care. Lucan shouted the news once more, and a few more of those who continued to do battle stopped. Gradually, with the a.s.sistance of other soldiers in the b.l.o.o.d.y streets, the fighting ceased.

With the heat of battle fading, the soldiers began to see to the wounded among their friends and comrades, and they began to mourn the dead.

Lucan leaped down from the wall, landing gracefully on his feet. He reached for Isadora and a.s.sisted in her descent. He had never cared much for witchcraft, but today she had used hers in a powerful and simple way, and she had honored his wish that magic not touch him.

"You are a good woman, Isadora Fyne," he said. "You are as n.o.ble and brave as any Circle warrior."

In her dark eyes he saw a momentary flash of uncertainty. "We must go to Juliet."

When all was settled with the empress and the children, there would be no more uncertainty. There would be nothing but love in her eyes and in her heart, as soon as their obligations were done.

He led Isadora through the streets of the city, protecting her at all times not only from the men who had, moments earlier, been fighting here, but from the scenes of death that surrounded her. She was a gentle woman with no tolerance for such ugliness. He had never known a witch could be kindhearted, but then his opinions of such magical women had been influenced by a long ago prediction he had never understood.

Zebulyn should have been more specific.

They were a little more than halfway through the city when Isadora gasped, jerking her hand from his. She turned her back on him and ran frantically, and he followed, calling her name. She did not go far before dropping to her knees beside a fallen soldier. All he could see of the man was a tattered cape, a motionless hand, and a long twist of oddly streaked and b.l.o.o.d.y hair.

"No, no, no," Isadora said softly as she rolled the man onto his back.

Kane Varden wasn't dead, but neither was he far from departing this earth.

ISADORA LED THE way into camp. Lucan-along with two rebels they had grabbed off the streets of Arthes-carried a quickly fashioned litter directly behind her. Kane had suffered a head injury, and while there were no life-threatening wounds that she could see, he had not stirred since she'd discovered him. Not a moan, not so much as a twitch.

There had been a time, not so long ago, when she'd hated this man. For touching Sophie, for leaving her, for coming back-for making the youngest Fyne sister love him. She couldn't hate him anymore. A soldier who made room in his heart for love, for family, and for babies had redeeming qualities that should be preserved.

Besides, it would break Sophie's heart to lose him. Maybe Sophie had reasoned all along that the curse would make the time she had with her husband short, but it wouldn't make losing the man she loved any easier.

Just as watching Lucan walk away from her would not be easy. If they could not break the curse quickly, then that's what would happen. Kane would die, and Lucan would leave. What of Juliet's Ryn? He was young, and had a few years before thirty-and to be completely honest, the man was not entirely human. Would that fact save him from the curse? Maybe, maybe not. If not, those years would go by quickly, and too soon Juliet would also be forced to bury the man she loved.

The youngest Fyne sister had held her impossibility in her hands, as Thayne had predicted, but that left two miracles to take place before the curse could be broken. Isadora suspected that might be two too many to hope for.

Sophie saw Isadora as the party entered the camp. She smiled widely, and stood with the new baby Duran caught in her arms. "Finally!" she said as she walked forward with long, anxious strides. "It's so good to see you well. Did you find Liane and the babies? Did you see Kane? Myls said Sebestyen is dead. I know it's wrong to wish anyone harm, but I can't say I'm-" Sophie stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the litter and the man upon it. "No," she said softly.

"He hasn't lost much blood," Isadora said calmly. "He took a blow to the head, but that's all."

"It isn't the blow that will kill him. It's the curse. Kane is just a few months from thirty, you know." Sophie walked beside the litter, as it was carried toward her tent. She did not cry, and she did not scream. Instead, she was determined and rigid, and she remained dry-eyed. "We must end the curse. With all that has happened, with the new powers we've discovered, surely we can accomplish what seemed impossible in the past."

"It will take all three of us," Isadora said. She might as well tell Sophie and Juliet together what Thayne said was required, so there would be no need to repeat herself. "Where's Juliet?"

Sophie snorted in disgust, as she held back the tent flap for the men who carried the litter. "She and that husband of hers went into the woods shortly after you left this morning. Two of her soldiers, the ones who stayed behind to act as her bodyguards, went with them."

"Did they go to the battlefield?" Isadora experienced a moment of fear, as she imagined the gentle Juliet caught in the midst of battle.

Sophie shook her head. "I don't think so. They were headed in the opposite direction."

"And Juliet didn't say where she was going?"

"No."

The men carefully moved Kane to a pallet on the tent floor, and Sophie knelt beside her husband. "I will require warm water and clean rags," she commanded without tears or panic. One of the soldiers nodded curtly, as if he were accustomed to taking orders from Sophie. Lucan nodded at Isadora as he left the tent, and she knew, without even a hint of doubt, that he would be waiting for her when she was done here.

Isadora helped Sophie as the new mother cleaned and bandaged her husband. She held Duran when Sophie needed both hands free, and then Sophie took the baby while Isadora performed a simple protection spell that might-or might not-keep Kane alive until the curse could be broken.

And then they waited. Kane still did not stir, and Juliet did not return. Soldiers returned to the camp, one at a time and in small groups. They were rightfully glad of victory, but they had all lost comrades on this long day, and many of them were worried about Kane and the others who had been wounded. One rebel or another checked on the wounded man often, and Sophie spoke to each of them in a calm, unwavering voice. Liane had been right when she'd told Isadora that her youngest sister possessed a new strength.

It was well after dark when Arik opened the tent flap, ducked down, and walked inside. He looked very much like his brother, just enough to give Isadora a start. But Arik was bigger, a tad taller, and larger of build. His skin was deeply tanned, and a small scar on his left cheek marked him as a fighting man. The day of battle had left him tired, but not exhausted in the way some of his soldiers were. In his own way, Arik was much harder than Sebestyen had ever been.

"We are moving to the palace," Arik said, after taking a long, pained look at the wounded man. "I'm sure Varden will be more comfortable there."

"No," Sophie said sternly. "I will not ever again set foot in that terrible place, and neither will Kane."

"Sophie," the new emperor said in a gentle voice. "The palace is not a terrible place any longer."

She looked up at him, and in that instant Isadora realized exactly how strong her sister had become. "Hatred and cruelty and pain linger long after the reasons for them are gone. They live in the fabric, and in the stone, and in the very air. Dark energies remain in that palace. Kane will not be taken there. I forbid it."

Isadora wondered if her little sister realized that she was putting her foot down to the new emperor, and then she realized that Sophie had earned the right to speak her mind to any man. Even this one.