King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2) (31 page)

“That must be frustrating for you,” Dara said. She twisted her hand out of Bolden’s grip. She didn’t want to be in this man’s arms for a second longer. She clutched her sword hilt, waiting for him to say the words that would give her a reason to arrest him.

But Bolden simply inclined his head and said, “It was at first. But instead I’ve decided on a different plan, one that has been much longer in the works. It will be a bit more dramatic, but then our people love a good show. Thank you for the dance, Miss Ruminor.”

Bolden bowed like a gentleman and left her on the dance floor. With a nod to his father, he strode out of the hall. Von Rollendar immediately abandoned his own dance partner and followed his son out. Dara jerked her head at Oat, who hurried after them.

She spun around, scanning the hall, expecting enemies to burst in at any second. But the doors remained secure and guarded. She reached out with her senses, but the amount of Fire in the hall remained stable, still burning steadily from those decorative vines.

Siv must have noticed the worry on her face, for his steps slowed even though the music did not. He met her eyes over the top of Lady Tull’s head, and she could only shake her head. She wasn’t sure what was going on.

Then the quick pound of footsteps sounded in the entrance hall, and the door burst open. But instead of the flood of mysterious trained swordsmen they had been expecting all night, Telvin Jale charged into the hall alone.

“Square Peak burns!” he called. “The mountain is on fire!”

29.

The Mountain

CONFUSION
spread rapidly through the Great Hall at Jale’s announcement. Siv dropped Tull’s hand and grabbed his sword, immediately looking to Dara. Her eyes were fixed on the decorative vines tracing the walls. Abruptly, she turned on her heel and darted for the nearest window looking eastward to Square Peak. Siv left Tull in the middle of the dance floor and rushed after her.

“What’s going on?” he asked, skidding to a halt by Dara’s side.

“I didn’t feel it because of all the Fire in here,” she said. She pressed her hands to the glass, the ice melting off it faster than should have been possible. “Look at Square.”

Snow swirled in the air outside the castle windows, but through the fuzz of ice, Square Peak was starkly outlined against the cloudy sky. Fire blazed in a solid wall around it, with a halo glowing in the mists above. At first Siv thought it was a wildfire, but it didn’t have the untamed shape of a random inferno. This was Fire, a solid thing, holding Square Peak hostage within a glowing ring. Snow disappeared into steam as it fell onto the fiery wall, which had to be at least thirty feet tall. It was clear at a glance that no one could pass through the barrier to reach the peak. And no one on the peak would be able to leave.

The nobles gathered at the windows or hurried out into the entryway, no doubt rushing to the eastern portico, where there was a good view of Square Peak. The musicians abandoned their instruments and pressed their faces against the glass with the others.

“Bolden changed the plan,” Dara said. “He found out about my spy.”

Siv grimaced. So much for ambushing their attackers.

“What’s his next move?”

Telvin Jale rushed up to join them before Dara could respond.

“The Rollendars have left the castle,” he said. “Oat is following them down the peak. The moment they reached the steps that flaming wall shot out of the mountain all the way around Square.”

“Thank you, Jale.”

“What are your orders, Sire?” he asked, his composure slipping a hair. “The whole army is behind that wall!”

Siv exchanged glances with Dara. They hadn’t shared their suspicions about the army with anyone else on the Guard. But Siv had also decided not to let too many soldiers leave Square tonight because he didn’t know how many were under Pavorran’s corrupting influence. He’d asked Berg to stay over there too and keep an eye out for any strange movements. Now, if any of the soldiers
had
planned to stay on his side, they were stuck.
Stupid.
He had been so stupid.

“We need to get these people back to their homes,” Siv said, looking around at the nobles in all their finery. They didn’t need to be in the middle of this. “Jale, have the Guard escort my guests down to Lower King’s in groups. Advise those who keep their greathouses on the other peaks to find lodgings on King’s. I don’t want anyone crossing the bridges tonight.”

“Yes, my king.” Jale leapt to obey, signaling for more of the Guard to join him.

“Dara.”

“Sire?”

“Make sure my sister gets safely to her rooms, then meet me back here.”

Dara hesitated, as if she wanted to stay by his side, but then she snapped off a salute and darted toward Sora, who was busily reassuring a cluster of teenage noblewomen that everything would be okay.

Siv returned to the center of the hall and climbed the dais. Four Guardsmen moved in around him, including Pool at his right hand. He felt oddly calm. They would finally find out the exact nature of the threat against him. For better or worse, this ended tonight.

“I must ask you all to return to your homes,” Siv called out to his guests. “My Guard will make sure you get there safely while we assess this new threat. Please remain calm.”

The lords and ladies were anything but calm. They gathered up spouses and children and hurried toward the doors. Some muttered about the Fireworkers finally rising up, others said the true dragons had returned, and a few even suggested Soole had come to invade. Some eyed the Fire threading the walls suspiciously, but the decorations didn’t jump down to attack them. A far greater power burned on the other peak anyway.

“King Sivarrion,” a soft, feminine voice rang out, somehow managing to be heard over the chatter. “I have a message for you.”

Lady Tull approached the dais, her pale rose dress swirling behind her. Her six white-clad guards surrounded her, weapons drawn. The Castle Guard moved in around them, not letting them get any closer. A few nobles slowed to listen, if only because the jam at the doors was making it impossible to leave as quickly as they would like. Lady Tull gazed across the hall at Siv, head held high, and ignored the commotion.

“And what is that, my lady?” Siv said softly.

“The reign of the Amintelles is at an end,” Lady Tull said. “The Firewielders holding Square are capable of scouring the entire surface of the peak with their wall of Fire. If you abdicate your throne on behalf of House Amintelle, they will withdraw. If you do not, they will burn Square Peak and its inhabitants into nothing.” Lady Tull looked at the armed guards around the hall. “If you kill me, it will change nothing.”

Siv stared at her for a long time. The final people fleeing through the doors carried Lady Tull’s message with them. Within minutes, the whole of King’s Peak would know the choice he had been given. Or rather, the lack of choice. His head seemed full of mist and smoke. The entire peak. One third of his realm. Destroyed. Burned beyond recovery. No, this was no choice at all.

Despite her icy threat, Tull looked pale, and she bit her lip until it was as white as her fur cape.

“I am not going to kill you, Tull,” Siv said.

Lady Tull blinked. “Throughout our short engagement,” she said, “I’ve observed that you care more for the good of the mountain than for anything else in the world. If you walk away from the throne, not one Vertigonian will be harmed. You have until dawn. I will await your answer at the Fire Guild.”

She turned to go. Her guards, blades drawn, glared menacingly at the New Guard, daring them to stop her.

“Who would take the throne?” Siv asked. “If I surrender to your demands?”

Lady Tull looked back, a small smile on her delicate mouth. “You must know the answer to that.”

Siv sighed. “Indeed. Tell Rollendar he will have his answer at dawn.”

He raised a hand to his guards, and they allowed Lady Tull to leave the hall. The last of the nobles departed on her heels. Some, Siv was sure, had been in on the plot—or at least had promised not to interfere—but he didn’t detain them. It wouldn’t make any difference at this point. They had one of his peaks, and he had no army. Even his well-trained Guard could do nothing against a wall of Fire.

A few serving men and women lingered at the edges of the room, near the entrance to the kitchens.

“Gather everyone from the kitchens and go to the Guard barracks,” he told them. “You’ll be safe there for now, and you’ll be warm.”

The servants hurried to obey, a grim efficiency to their movements. Siv dispatched a few more Guardsmen to accompany them.

Oat edged around the last of the servants at the doors and ran across the hall toward Siv. His uniform was disheveled, and there was snow in his dark hair.

“Von and Bolden Rollendar went straight to the Fire Guild headquarters,” he reported, still a bit breathless. “A Fireworker met them outside the castle and escorted them there. The Guild has a wall of Fire around it now too, just like Square.”

“Where is Zage Lorrid?”

“The Fire Warden is gathering the castle Fireworkers,” Oat said. “They’re in the courtyard.”

“Good. My sister?”

“Dara has her. She took two Guardsmen with her to post by Princess Soraline’s door.”

Siv looked around at the remaining Guards. He had sent men to accompany the nobles, the servants, and his sister. There were just four Guards left in the Great Hall: Oat, Pool, Yuri, and young Dell Dunn. The group looked small and unthreatening in the glittering lights of the Fire decorations around the abandoned hall. It mattered little, though. Ten times as many Castle Guards wouldn’t be able to stand against the Firewielders. They had only one hope.

“Take me to the Fire Warden,” he commanded.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Oat saluted, and the Guardsmen fell into formation around Siv. They strode through the now empty entrance hall and out into the snowy courtyard. The massive tree in the corner glistened with ice and swayed in the biting wind. The cold assaulted Siv, slicing his cheeks like knives.

Zage Lorrid stood at the courtyard’s center. Snow melted in a circle around him, as if he were encased in a burning bubble of Fire. Siv couldn’t sense the Fire himself, but Zage quivered as if immense power roared through him.

The castle Fireworkers, those employed to maintain the flows to the Fire Gates and repair the various Works used by the castle’s servants and inhabitants, stood around him, each with a smaller ring of melted snow at their feet. There were only five of them. As far as Siv knew, none were especially powerful, which was why they didn’t have their own businesses. He could only hope they were loyal.

“It’s too much,” one was saying as Siv strode up. “I can’t Work a tenth of that myself.”

“They must have every Fireworker on Square maintaining the Wall.”

“How did they even get that much Fire?” said a pudgy fellow not more than a year older than Siv. “Every shop on Square Peak isn’t allotted that amount.”

“You are correct,” Zage said. He acknowledged Siv’s arrival with a brief nod. “They have been gathering power for months, siphoning it away from their shares.”

“But where could they store it?” the junior Fireworker demanded.

“Underground.” A cold voice came from behind Siv. Dara stood on the castle steps behind him, silhouetted against the open door. Snow swirled around her, and ice coated her hair.

“There’s a cave system underneath Square, far bigger than anything marked on the maps. They’ve been amassing Fire there like a second Well.”

“We aren’t a match for that many Workers,” said another Fireworker. He shivered, and a bit of snow drifted down onto his balding head through whatever barrier he had put up. “Begging your pardon, Warden.”

“You are correct, but we may be a match for those at the Guild,” Zage said. “That is our target. If we bring down the Guild, we will cut this madness off at the head.” Zage’s eyes glinted dangerously, and Siv could almost see the Fire burning within him.

“Let’s go quickly,” Dara said. “They could change their minds and sweep the peak any minute.” A few of the castle Fireworkers looked askance at her, but they must assume she meant to guard their backs, not that she’d try to help them wrest the power from the Fire Guild’s control using her own Fire abilities. Siv wondered how much she
could
actually Work. He’d been too busy being mad at her to ask.

“I agree, Miss Ruminor,” Zage said.

“No.” Siv’s voice was muffled by the snow, but they heard him.

“Your Majesty, if we deal with the Rollendars directly—”

“No. They are not stupid.” Unlike him. Stupid.
Stupid.
Why had he let the Rollendars and Fireworkers scheme while he trained up his piddling army of duelists? Swords were no use against magic. He was a useless,
useless
king. Why hadn’t he purged the army when he still had a chance and made sure they couldn’t be trapped on a single peak? His people would suffer for it. “They could have left orders to burn Square out of spite if anything happens to them. Marching on the Fire Guild won’t save the people trapped on that peak.”

“My king,” Zage said softly. “I cannot bring down that Wall. I didn’t think it was possible for them to do such a thing without me sensing it the moment they began. It must have taken time to send the Fire from the cavern to the edges of the peak, but I was monitoring all the Fire in the hall, and I didn’t notice until it was too late. I have failed.”

“The failure is mine,” Siv said. “Go to the Fire Guild. See what you can learn of the men giving the Rollendars refuge. Report back on any weaknesses, but do not kill anyone lest it provoke the Fireworkers on Square. I will remain in the Great Hall while I make my decision. Report back as soon as you can.”

“Very well, Your Majesty,” Zage said. “Come.” He jerked his head toward the sally port in the castle wall. The forlorn group of Fireworkers followed him out into the blustery night.

Dara hesitated on the castle steps.

“Go with them,” Siv said. “Maybe you can lend your strength to Zage’s.”