Foretold (Daughters of Saraqael Book Three) (30 page)

He noticed something else as the surrounding Estilorians went to work to convert the coliseum back to its original state so dinner could be served. He noticed that the crowd was now decidedly mixed. It wasn’t just the Lekwuesti who worked to clean things up, but members of all classes. He noticed that the Wymzesti and Orculesti didn’t get ostracized by other classes who feared they would have their minds read or their actions predicted. He noticed Waresti conversing with more animation and feeling than he had ever seen, and Gloresti and Corgloresti interacting in a friendly way much different than formal pairings. And the Scultresti and Elphresti mingled with everyone in a much more social manner than either class normally did.

And they all collected around the sisters like planets around the sun.

Well, I’d say that was a resounding success
, Gabriel communicated as he and James walked up and joined him.

I’ll say
, James seconded.
Look at this. Just…wow.

They handled it perfectly
, Caleb thought as they started making their way through the crowd toward their wives.
Now we just have to transfer this lesson onto the field of battle.

“It has been several days since we last heard from the traitor,” Kanika said. “How do we know that the battle will still commence?”

Although she sounded irritable, Grolkinei smiled. He had grown to appreciate her displays of temper. “Do not be concerned, my sweet. Our insider warned us of this lull. It will not be possible to get the information we need—information that can only be gained by being in the close proximity of the elders and Saraqael’s daughters—if the traitor is risking open communication with us.”

She made a sound in the back of her throat and turned to look out the window. The two of them were standing in one of the high turrets built into the side of the mountain. Its roof looked like a jagged mountain peak from the outside. She wore a black velvet cloak to ward off the chill in the air, but he noted that her arms were crossed over her chest beneath the cloak. Her ebony hair was pulled back at the temples into two separate braids secured at the back of her head. The wind lifted the mass of it from her shoulders.

Moving forward, he placed his hands on her shoulders. She tensed, then relaxed. “Why are you so concerned?” he asked.

“I feel as though there are things being done at the Estilorian base that will put the winning of this battle beyond your reach,” she said.

He frowned as he began to massage her shoulders. “Why is that?”

She shrugged beneath his hands. “I cannot explain it. It is a feeling of foreboding. Something that started when Quincy reminded me of the Great Foretelling.”

“Rubbish,” he said dismissively. “The so-called Foretelling did not take into account our ability to strategize, did it? I have spent centuries building an army the size and strength of which the other Estilorians will never dream. My powers have continued to grow, and I am surrounded by talented commanders. We even have a number of soldiers with exceptional talents that will most certainly turn the tide of this battle.”

Now, she turned. He thought her eyes had all the more impact due to the marks of power she had on the outer edges of her eyes. She had informed him shortly after converting that the marks were evidence of her mental abilities being as exceptional as they were. “You have great confidence. Has our failure to acquire any of Saraqael’s daughters not shaken your belief in our abilities?”

“We were learning. In order to develop effective strategy, there must always be attempted maneuvers, even if they result in failure. We know far more about them than they know about us now.”

She studied him silently for a long moment. Then she said, “I hope your arrogance is not going to lead us all to our deaths.”

“Arrogant?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I thought I was confident.”

“Your excessive pride in your own abilities—”

“Is well-founded,” he interrupted. “You will not anger me today, Kanika. I have been working on the most effective way to defeat the elders for most of my existence. I have accounted for battling against eight of the most powerful beings in the world, and I have plans in place to defeat them. Why should I fear three young, half-human girls?”

“Because they have defeated us separately. What makes you think that together, they will not annihilate us?”

He pushed away from her. “Your doubt displeases me. Our previous encounters with them were mere skirmishes. They faced not even a fraction of us.”

“They faced the fraction that you consider the most powerful,” she pointed out. “And three of those commanders are now dead.” She followed him with her eyes as he paced. “You do not appreciate my doubt, Grolkinei, but it is well-founded. We have looked like blundering idiots.”

He wasn’t sure why he allowed her insolence. Where comments like hers from anyone else would have sent him into a flying rage, he merely glared at her. Perhaps it was because there was a part of him, however deeply buried, that knew she had a point.

“Your soldiers fight for you because they fear or respect you,” she continued, turning from him to look back out the window. “They do not necessarily share your passion to abolish this plane of existence. Due to their short length of time on this plane, in fact, very few of them even understand what the human plane is, or how being on that plane will benefit them.”

“They know they will be worshipped like gods,” he snapped. “They will no longer be outcasts among their own kind, living in the shadows of others.”

“Again, it sounds like we are discussing you, not everyone else.”

He stopped pacing and stalked over to her. She didn’t retreat. He stood an inch from her, his hands clenched into fists. “You go too far.”

“You do not like to hear what I have to say because it is no less than the truth. Your goal is to defeat the rest of the Estilorians. Eight other classes against our one.”

“Our one class is comprised of members of each of the other classes,” he ground out. “Most of them, much like you, brought their former base class attributes with them when they converted and have merely grown in power since then. And our numbers are greater than theirs.”

“So you believe.”

“I trust our information. We have it verified from a number of sources, including our recent inside informant.”

“What makes you so certain the human plane is worth reclaiming?”

He sneered. “Humans will forever be beneath us. They will worship us. And even if we opt to never return to the human plane, we will still rule this one.” Seeing her quirked eyebrow, he said, “Surely you do not relish the thought of remaining an outcast for the rest of your existence, do you?”

She frowned.

“This is your chance to rule by my side,” he said smoothly. “What is it you would command if you were put in that position? You could watch Gabriel and his half-human avowed tortured and killed. Or you could keep them alive and in service to you for all of their existences. The options are many and varied.”

“You may dangle such lures in front of the others with success,” she said, distain lacing the words, “but you will have to forgive me if I am still lacking faith in our class’s ability to defeat an entire army seeking to defend Saraqael’s daughters, especially in light of our past mistakes.”

He clenched his jaw, then released it. “And what will it take to convince you, Kanika?”

She lifted her chin. “Perhaps if you actually succeeded in capturing Saraqael’s daughters instead of merely talking about it. That would at least be a notable accomplishment.”

When he smiled, it was quite terrifying. “Consider it done.”

The softball game had gone a long way toward breaking down the lines between the classes. In fact, it was such a successful and popular team-building exercise that they made it part of the day’s training. Whichever members of each class were determined to have made the most progress during the course of the day ended up on the softball roster that evening. The motivation this provided for everyone to try their best was rather staggering.

Caleb stood supervising a group of young Estilorians engaged in a round of hand-to-hand fighting. Their attitudes were all encouraging and supportive rather than arrogant and competitive, a quite miraculous change from just days ago.

“No, Edgar. You batted lefty yesterday, but you are trying to dominate with your right,” said Edgar’s Scultresti opponent. “You will have more success if you lead with your left.”

Raising an eyebrow, Caleb said, “She’s right. Here.” He moved forward to demonstrate.

His siblings, the elders, the commanders and the lieutenants were all nearby in similar training sessions. Skye was on the other side of the courtyard near the targets, teaching techniques with throwing weapons. It was rather difficult being separated from her, even if only by a courtyard, knowing that there was at least one traitor somewhere in their midst. But if ever a time existed where such calculated risks were necessary, this was it. Besides, Olivia was near her in an archery session, and Gabriel was close to them where he stood training Estilorians with daggers, sais and other close-fighting weapons. James was on the west side of the courtyard training a group with staff weapons, and Amber was heading sword training on the east side.

Caleb knew that outside of the courtyard, training was taking place in other areas of the homeland, and not just physical training. There were exercises being taught for mental protection—and attack—as well. The groups rotated every thirty minutes with ten minute breaks every hour. They trained from sunup to sundown and then gathered every evening in the coliseum for the ballgame.

More often than not, he ended up carrying Skye back to their bedroom every night because she was too tired to make the trip. He knew her fatigue was more a result of her early stage of pregnancy than her physical exertion, and actually enjoyed doing what he could for her. He had learned through Gabriel more about what she would go through as the babies grew. It boggled his mind. He had never seen a newborn child except in his dreams, but the fact that two of them would fit in her belly—her womb—well, it was a complete mystery to him.

Quincy had largely taken over the sisters’ medical care. He had worked in several different fields of medicine while on the human plane, and during his studies as a young Corgloresti had learned everything he could about human anatomy and medical science. He considered it an honor to assist them, and a perfect way to respect the memory of his best friend.

That evening proved to be one that Skye weathered well. She was alert and bubbling with enthusiasm as they made their way back to their rooms with their siblings. The game had been another overwhelming success.

“We’ve made so much progress in just two weeks,” she said as they reached the corridor housing their rooms. “I can hardly believe it. I even heard several Estilorians using contractions today.”

He thought about that as Gabriel opened the door to his and Amber’s room. They all filed inside, as the sisters were hungry and wanted dinner. Now that he thought about it, there had been several contractions used that day among the younger groups he had taught. He hadn’t even registered the change. It made him frown, wondering what else he might have missed.

“I’m pleased with how things are going,” Gabriel said, giving Amber a considering look before he held his hand over the table and conjured up a meal of chicken and dumplings, one of her favorites. “But we have quite a bit more work to do.”

“Oh, sure,” Skye said, waving a hand in agreement as Caleb produced macaroni and cheese. She beamed when she saw it and gave him a look that made his heart trip over itself. “It’ll be weeks yet before everyone is near ready enough to face the Mercesti. But it’s still great to see the improvements.”

“While we’re on the subject of progress and work still to do, there’s been something I’ve been thinking about,” Olivia said, scooting the bowl of spaghetti James had conjured for her closer so she could twirl some of it around her fork. “The Mercesti will be using cursed weapons against us, right?”

“Definitely,” Gabriel said.

“Well, four of us are now immune,” she said. Then she glanced from Gabriel to Caleb. “And two of us aren’t.”

There was a moment of silence as they all considered this. Gabriel caught Caleb’s eye.

“You’re going to suggest that Caleb and I infect ourselves so we can develop an immunity,” he said at last.

Chewing her spaghetti, she nodded soberly. She exchanged looks with Amber and Skye.

“We still have the arrow,” James said, looking at his brothers. “We can do it in a controlled environment. It won’t be pleasant, but it would be wise.”

Pursing his lips, Gabriel nodded. “Fine. Let’s get through dinner first.”

Since none of the brothers were eating, they turned the conversation to some of the things they had noted about their trainees that day. By exchanging their observations, they could be aware of individual strengths and weaknesses as training continued. Caleb noticed that Skye was unusually quiet as she picked at her food.

After the meal was finished and the dishes cleared, Gabriel brought forth the arrow. It sat in the center of the table, untouched, for a long moment. All of their gazes focused on it. When Caleb glanced at Skye, he saw that her eyes were already shining with tears.

He knew those tears would, in part, save his life, so he wasn’t sure whether to be comforted or even more worried than he already was.

Okay, not worried. Afraid.

He and Gabriel shared another look. They both knew the pain to come was going to be excruciating. It took a lot of nerve to willingly bring that kind of punishment on oneself.

“We’ll have to let the curse take hold enough that our eye color starts to change,” Gabriel said, not looking away.

And now, out of the corner of his eye, Caleb noticed a tear trail down Skye’s cheek. Taking a deep breath, he nodded.

Gabriel reached for the arrow and held it by the shaft in his left hand. He positioned it with his right palm poised over the top tip. Understanding, Caleb held his right palm out. Gabriel set the other tip on his palm. When the sharp arrowhead was between their palms, Gabriel pressed down with his hand and then yanked the arrow free.

They both looked at the seemingly harmless stripes of blood now lining their palms. And felt the fires of Hell start to course through their veins.

“Okay, guys,” Amber said in a voice that wavered. “We all know how it hurts. No need to be macho about it.”

Caleb didn’t really understand what she meant, but he guessed she was saying that they wouldn’t think any less of him and Gabriel if they showed their pain. That wouldn’t be a problem. He could barely think over the agony radiating through his body. Trying to consciously hold his reactions back would have taken too much energy, even if he had wanted to try.

He instinctively held his fist tightly clutched against his body, doubled over at the waist as he tried to fight the pain. Gabriel was in a similar position. He wasn’t sure if the choked cries and moans came from him, Gabriel, or both of them, but they were the only sounds in the room.

Finally, when he truly didn’t think he could take another second of the torture without blacking out, someone pried his hand from his body and there was, at last, blessed relief.