Anais and the Broken War (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 5) (2 page)

Gorman pulled a ring off of his finger “My guardsman’s ring. There’s a stone of polished black rock in the center.”

“I can’t take your ring. I’ll destroy it. It will turn to dust.”

“Just do it. I can get another. I want to see this magic of yours.”

I slashed my hand against a sharp stone embedded in the wall of the tower before taking the ring he offered.

Fynn gasped. “Was that necessary?”

“There’s a reason they call it blood magic,” I said.

The stone in the ring was smaller than the shards of black rock I had taken from the throne in the forgotten cell. I wasn’t sure it would be enough, but I had to try. I grasped the ring with my bloody hand and stared hard at the body, willing it to merge into the earth–willing it to disappear.

The ground swelled upward, swallowing Colin, and then sank back down to its original elevation. The surface looked unmarred from the disturbance.

Gorman stepped tentatively on the ground where Colin’s body rested moments before. “It’s solid. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Sweet sisters of mercy,” Fynn whispered. “Should I be scared of you?”

I didn’t look at him. I hadn’t wanted to give away my secrets, but I had little choice. We needed a miracle, and I was the only one of us capable of conjuring one up. “I’ll get Cedric,” I said. “He ought to get moving before the guards and servants reappear.”

Gorman nodded. “Tell Cedric to go to the front entrance of the Great House where he’ll meet with me. Afterward, you come back here. Fynn and I will go to the stable and request horses for Lord Pendragon and Cedric. I’ll tell the stable master we will pass off the horses to them at the front gate. I’ll bring one horse to Cedric, and Fynn will bring the other back here. Do you think you can do your trick again?”

I squirmed at the idea of burying a live horse, of watching the animal die for the purpose of a human ploy. But, there seemed no other choice. I looked down at the ring, expecting the little rock to be dust, but it appeared untouched. It still gleamed. I frowned. “I should have burned it up. Are you sure this is black rock?”

“Yes. It’s been hardened into glass by a jeweler in town. His toughening procedure involves high temperature and pressure. It’s not supposed to work on large pieces of black rock. Or, that’s what I’ve heard,” Gorman answered. “So, can you do it again?”
 

“Yes.” I nodded. “I should be able to do the same to the horse.”

“Good,” Gorman said. “Let’s get going. We have work to do.”

As I walked toward the Great House, after parting from Gorman and Fynn, I toyed with Gorman’s ring. There was more potential power in the tiny stone than I had imagined possible. It was a dangerous thing.
 

C
HAPTER
2

I FOLLOWED MEDIERA up the spiral staircase. We were late. Again. Although Dahlia, the wet nurse, had taken over primary care of little Uthur, Mediera still nursed him in the mornings. And he seemed to be infinitely thirsty. During the first council session three days ago, we offered an explanation regarding Lord Pendragon’s death. It had not gone well. We ended it with a plan to reconvene today, for the council members had requested time to discuss the matter amongst themselves. Concerned at their lack of confidence, Gorman suggested we force them to hold their discussion publicly, but Mediera resisted. She had been hopeful that they would come around to our side given time.

She pushed open the heavy door to the council chamber and entered the room, the bottom of her skirts sweeping the floor. As I followed behind her, I was immediately struck by an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. Rays of early morning sunshine streamed through the long rectangular windows and shone onto the surface of the round table. Gorman and Fynn sat beside each other in high-backed chairs, and Jacarda sat opposite them. Dressed in a severe black gown with no jewels or furs, she looked like a shadow of herself.

“Where are they?” Mediera asked. “You can’t be done already? I’m not that late.”

“They’ve fled. Every single one of them,” Fynn said, his voice uncharacteristically flat.

“Fled?” Mediera’s lips trembled as she repeated the word.

“Gone across the mountains to Courtshire, dear,” Jacarda added. “They were skittish even with Colin here providing constant assurances that all was well. But, without him, I fear they could not stomach the risk.”

Mediera slumped into the chair next to Cedric while I took a seat next to Fynn. “How are we supposed to lead without them?”

Cedric covered Mediera’s hand with his own. “We’ll figure it out.”
 

“We’ll have to look through the communications from the captains in the field,” Gorman said. “The most important thing is the war. We have letters from the captains that demand our attention. I suggest we start reading them and providing answers.”

Gorman handed Mediera a pile of unopened letters, and she took them, her hands shaking. Mediera was in charge now. It was what she wanted, but the reality must be daunting. The lives of the citizens of Barriershire were in her hands.

Mediera took the small knife that Cedric offered and ripped open the seal. She squinted as she read the missive. “This captain, Captain Brentwood, is asking for more horses. Do we have horses?” Mediera asked, her eyes fixed on Cedric.

“I don’t know,” Cedric stammered. “Gorman?”

“Borwin,” Gorman said. “He supplies the horses to the city guard when they’re needed.”
 

Jacarda shook her head. “Borwin is gone. He left three days ago.”
 

Gorman looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

“He took my seat on a caravan going west across the mountains,” she answered the unasked question.

“Your seat?” I asked.

Jacarda shrugged. “Colin’s death unnerved everyone. Recently I was offered the opportunity to buy a seat. However, when Cedric came to me and said he needed my help…” She tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Well, I offered my seat to Borwin.”

“But why? What can we offer you? There is no council now.” Mediera asked.

“My dear, we’re the council,” she said. “And we have work to do.”

Mediera inhaled sharply and then nodded. “What should we do about the horses?”

“We’ll have to talk with Hastings. He has a stable on Fenn Street. He can at least tell us how many steeds are available in the city,” Fynn suggested.
 

“I believe Hastings’ wife would appreciate a dinner invitation,” Jacarda said. “If he’s the new Guild Master of horses, he’ll expect that honor.”

“Is it really necessary?” Mediera asked. “The last thing I feel like doing is throwing a dinner party.”

“It’s essential. You can’t ignore your people. And it won’t just be him. There are a few others that will expect some of your time, now that Colin is gone.”
 

“It’s a good idea,” Gorman agreed. “The dinner. We need him on our side. There are a lot of people that we are going to have to win over.”

“I’ll talk with him,” Fynn offered.
 

Gorman frowned. “We need some runners. We can’t go dashing off every time we need to get something done. Colin used guards, but I’d rather not pull them off duty to run errands for us.”

“We could get some boys from the market,” I suggested. “There are always kids in need of work.”

Gorman opened his mouth as if he was going to issue a command, but instead he looked to Mediera, waiting for her to say something. She twisted at a stray lock of hair but didn’t comment.
 

“Lady Mediera, perhaps you should decide if Fynn and Anais should talk with Borwin and find us some runners. Do you think the plan is reasonable?” Gorman finally asked. His choice to pay deference to her was unusual. He was a natural leader, able to make quick decisions and implement plans. Mediera, on the other hand, well, she seemed to be struggling.

“Sister Anais you mean,” Mediera corrected Gorman.

“Of course,” Gorman concurred. He looked at me without a trace of humor. “My apologies, sister, for being overly familiar.”

“Cedric, do you think they should go?” She looked at Cedric, her eyes seeming to beg him to contradict Gorman.

“I think so,” he stuttered. “We need the horses.”

“But, shouldn’t Anais stay at the Great House? Why should she need to go at all? Fynn, do you think you could find some boys to act as runners and talk with Borwin?”

“I’ll do my best,” Fynn said, his eyes darting toward the door as if he was in a great hurry to depart.

“Than that’s that,” Mediera said. “Sister Anais stays.”

“Are you sure I shouldn’t go with Fynn? I could help him…” I wanted to do something. I wanted to get out of this room. I wasn’t accomplishing anything here.

“Sister Anais, perhaps you should go and talk with Sister Zilla,” Jacarda suggested. “Sister Zilla is well informed on the requirements for entertaining, and I believe she’s on friendly terms with the kitchen staff,” Jacarda said. “Find her and the two of you can arrange dinner for tonight, for perhaps a dozen people, while Lady Mediera and I work out the invitation list.”

“Tonight?” Mediera asked. “Do you think it’s necessary to have a dinner so soon.”

We all looked at Gorman, waiting for him to answer–or for him to provide a direction.

“It’s your decision,” Gorman said to Mediera. Again it was interesting that he was stepping back.
 

“Yes, it’s her decision,” Jacarda agreed, her jaw set in a hard line. “But, we are here to advise her. And my advice is to bring together what social leaders remain in Barriershire and to give them some confidence that we have things in hand.”

“Cedric, what do you think?” Mediera asked.

Cedric took a deep breath. “Jacarda’s suggestion sounds reasonable. It can’t hurt to have a dinner party.”

“Okay,” Mediera said, shaking her head. “If you all insist upon it, I suppose it must be done.”

Fynn stood. “I’ll go now. Hopefully, I’ll manage to rustle up a few runners. And I’ll speak with Borwin.”

“And I’ll find Zilla,” I offered, grateful for the opportunity to escape.
 

As Fynn and I left, Gorman said to the others, “There’s another letter we need to discuss. It’s from one of the captains. He may cause us trouble. We need to be wary of him.”

As I entered our bedchamber, Dahlia was installing Uthur into a carriage. His face was red, and dried tears stained his cheek. Tatiana sat on her bed, her nose in a book, and Zilla was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m going to take him for a walk. He’s miserable,” Dahlia murmured. “Is that okay?”
 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, you know.” Her plan seemed reasonable. Uthur liked motion. Or at least, he cried less when he was being walked. I wished Dahlia could be a little less meek. But I imagined she had her own ghosts and didn’t need advice from me on how to behave.

Dahlia shrugged as if she didn’t believe me. While I watched her push Uthur out of the room, my eyes stayed fixed on him. Every time he left my presence, I felt my heart ripping apart. Why did my bond to him have to be so strong? I forced myself to stay rooted in place and reminded myself that it would not be reasonable to rip Uthur away from the girl, even if that was what I wanted.

“I’ve meant to talk with you about this, but you and I are so rarely alone,” Tatiana said, setting her book on a small table.
 

“About what?”

“Your tie to Uthur.”

“You know?”

“It’s obvious.” Tatiana paused, slipping a stray silver hair beneath her white headdress. “And Mother Agnasia told me.”

“I see.”

“I wanted you to understand that being a part of the protectorate is more than just a connection to one person. The protectorate were warriors during the early days of the sisterhood. Mother Agnasia and her set of mages bastardized it when they joined our order. They focused all of the power into the protection of a single person. But, it was never meant to be that way.”

“Were they supposed to protect the sisters?”

“Yes. But more than that. They were expected to protect the community as a whole. More to the point, they protected humanity.”