Prince of Magic (30 page)

Ciro hated to admit to such a human failing, but in many ways he missed the cranky old wizard who had been with him since the beginning of this journey. Fynnian had been bothersome and often did not know his place, but he was better company than these soulless creatures who called themselves Ciro's Own, and a much better conversationalist than the more ordinary soldiers who cared only for weaponry and tales of their victory and, on occasion, the souvenirs they took from the battleground.

If he grew very hungry as he waited for the woman in white to arrive, he'd feed on the soldiers Fynnian had organized. There was not an unmarked soul among them, which was understandable considering their mercenary calling, and while they would not offer the power and flavor of the white souls he craved, they would suffice in times of hunger. He did not experience the same possessive affection for them his Own elicited. They were necessary, for the time being, but in time they would become expendable.

From his position high on the rough cliffside, Ciro looked down on the winding road below. On the other side of the trail was a decently leafed stand of trees. With some men positioned there, others here where he stood, and still others stationed just to the west, the small army that thought to take him would march into a trap from which they would not be able to escape.

Ciro knew the warrior woman he almost recognized and the pathetic army she led would come this way. One of his Own was leading them here, just as she had promised she would.

The wizard Chamblyn was with the army. Not only did the Isen Demon tell him so, but the female who so easily led the army to this ambush also reached for Ciro in the night and whispered in his ear. They were connected, after all, as all his Own were. He was powerful, Chamblyn was, perhaps more powerful even than Fynnian had been. If he could be turned, he'd make a fine addition to Ciro's Own.

And if not, then his soul would feed Ciro and the Isen Demon well. Wizards, by their very nature, walked a fine line between light and dark. Chamblyn's soul might not be as tainted as Fynnian's had been, but he was not pure. No permission would be needed to feed upon his soul.

The soldier who was with the warrior woman whispered in the night,
I'm coming. I won't make you wait much longer. Remember what you promised me, my prince. Remember
.

I remember well.

Ciro smiled as he severed the connection. It was a fool who put stock in promises from one such as he had become.

Sian cursed under his breath as he glanced at Ariana. She had given Lilia her green uniform, since the girl's dress had been ruined beyond repair, and so she wore the only other clothing she had with her. The white. The white which made her shine like a beacon beneath the sun or the moon; the white which marked her as special and different; the white which would call every enemy, directly to her. The fucking white.

If she were not so small, he would insist that someone in the party exchange clothes with her. Unfortunately, that was not an option.

"Why are you glaring at me?" she asked in a lowered voice. They rode side by side, with a few soldiers before them, and the rest behind. Since coming upon the destroyed village, they had all been restless and tense. There was less casual conversation, less chatter. Perhaps they all felt the weight of what they approached, as he did.

"I am not glaring," Sian insisted.

Ariana looked at him and smiled halfheartedly. "I have not been acquainted with you for a long time, enchanter, but I do know your glare well."

"Fine," he snapped. "White? What were you thinking? Whatever possessed you—"

"Interesting choice of words," she interrupted. "Whatever
possessed
me? Do you think Diella chose the white and I am unaware?"

"I don't know," he confessed. "It does have a dramatic flair, but it also makes you much too easy to identify in a sea of green."

Ariana smiled. "At first I thought a brilliant white uniform would be wonderfully symbolic. White light will be necessary to win this war, and we must embrace that light. I don't believe it actually brings power to us, but it reminds me of why I'm here." She shrugged as if her reasons were unimportant. "The white amid all the green also reminds me that I cannot hide from who I am."

"There's nothing wrong with hiding," he snapped. "There's also no reason to go out of your way to bring attention to your position of importance."

"It's done. I cannot go back and undo it."

She was maddeningly calm. Sian was no empath, and yet he felt the approach of darkness. He felt the coming of destiny, and he knew it would not be pretty. Monsters, the prophesy promised. After seeing what Ciro's men had done to the village, "monster" was a fitting term. Was that why the men remained so silent? Did they feel the approach of the battle they had been called to as surely as he did?

It was a warm day, making certain all knew that summer had arrived. They often traveled in the shade of ancient trees that lined the road, which kept them cool enough for some comfort. In the shade, the white was not so prominent as it was when the sun shone down, but even here it was bright and drew the eye.

All were silent as they made their way through another patch of shade.

"Do you feel it coming?" he asked, his voice again lowered so no one else could hear.

"Yes," Ariana answered.

"When?"

"Tonight," she said, her voice gentle and without fear. "Perhaps tomorrow night."

Sian tried to imagine this woman in battle with the men who had demolished an entire village, and he could not. No matter how grandly she led these men, she was a healer and a gentle woman, and when the battle she was being guided to fell upon her, she would die, just as the prophesy promised.

"Turn back," he said. "It isn't too late."

Ariana sighed, but she did not slow her horse. "I can't turn back." She looked at him, her green eyes scared but determined. "It was too late the moment the prophesy was written."

"I will take your place." Gladly, fiercely, if only he could know that she was safe.

"Thank you, but that's not possible."

"Anything is possible."

Sian had never suspected that he'd find himself in such a position. Ariana was right; she was necessary, and the fate of the world was in her hands. He would not sacrifice the world for her, or for any one person.

He also would not allow Ariana to face her destiny alone. When the time came he would fight with and for her, he would give his life for her if it was necessary. And if Diella rose to the surface and Ariana was gone… he could only hope that the strength he had shared with her made such an atrocity impossible.

"I don't think I can kill Ciro," Ariana confessed as they continued on their damned journey. "He's strong, and he has more men that I do. In anything resembling a fair fight, we will lose."

"Then why won't you turn back? Why won't you save yourself for another day and another battle?"

A few soldiers heard him that time. Heads turned. A few men whispered.

"Because whether or not we win, we will hurt him somehow," Ariana responded. "I don't know how, but if your grandfather's prophesy is correct then whatever we can do to hurt the enemy is essential. I don't want to see every village in the country decimated as Lilia's village was. I don't want to see whatever Ciro has become rule and destroy everything and everyone I love."

That was her weakness. She cared. Sian did not mind playing upon her weakness. "These men you call brothers will all die."

"Perhaps," she said calmly. "Perhaps not." Again she stared at him, and he saw the lover she had been, not the leader she had become. "You can turn back, if you'd like," she offered. "You are not obligated to follow me."

Sian made a sound of pure disgust. She didn't understand anything. He was obligated to her in more ways than he dared to admit.

Night would soon be upon them, and Ariana felt a growing sense of unease. With every step her horse took, she felt more trepidation. More fear.
Turn back, if you are too afraid to face Ciro
.

I can't turn back.

No one really expects you to be a hero. You're a girl. A witch with insignificant healing powers.

You're no girl, and you're never afraid. When the time comes, you must lend me your strength. If I die, what becomes of you?

I disappear.

You don't want that to happen.

No, I don't.

It was odd and unexpected, this almost companionable truce with the dark spirit inside her. Perhaps Diella wasn't completely dark. After all, she had once been a woman, just like Ariana. She had loved, and fought for survival in what was perhaps the only way she knew how. The empress had not attempted to rise to the surface since Ariana had called Sian to her side. Perhaps she knew that the enchanter would kill her, would kill them both, if she was so bold.

What awaits me? Do you know?

Pain. Sorrow. Death.

You could lie and tell me that together we're strong enough to win.

Why would I lie to you ?

Why, indeed?

The three sentinels who rode slightly ahead stopped at a fork in the road. They turned to her, and waited for her decision. After all, she had been this way once before, when traveling to see her Anwyn cousins. They were a mere two days from turning onto the only mountain road suitable for horses.

Ariana gestured to the trail to the left. "This is the way."

"Wait!" The sentinel carrying Lilia came forward, urged by the woman who shared his mount this evening. She pointed to the right. "This is a shortcut. There are places where the trail turns narrow, but it will save half a day."

Lilia had listened carefully to their travel plans, so she knew where they were headed. She knew the mountain trail which would take them to the Anwyn.

I don't think she can be trusted.

Her entire village was destroyed. Why would she lie?

Everyone lies, witch. Everyone. You're the empath, you're the healer. Do you trust her entirely? Do you think she's incapable of lying? How do you know she's actually from that village? How do you know she's not one of Ciro's soldiers?

I would see if that were true.

Would you?

Why would Lilia lead us down the wrong path?

Why, indeed?

Sian bit out her name, probably not for the first time. "Ariana!"

Her head snapped around and she found herself staring into familiar and oddly concerned purple eyes. The colors in those remarkable eyes swam, light and dark shades meeting and melding. She'd been so lost in her conversation with Diella that she had not heard a word that had been spoken.

"I'm thinking," she said sharply.

Whom should she trust? Whom could she trust? The woman they had saved; the demon who lived inside her; no one at all. At the moment, her magic seemed so insignificant. So useless.

In the end she made her decision about which road they would take, because she had no choice. The authority she did not want was her weight to carry, her place in this war that still felt as if it were coming soon but was not yet here.

This time she led the way, and Sian positioned himself directly beside her.

"It is not too late to turn back," he said, not for the first time today.

"Not for you, perhaps."

"I will not run from this fight or any other," he said tersely. "I only want you to be safe, and you make me feel as if that's a heinous crime."

"Not a crime, Sian, just… impossible."

He remained beside her, occasionally cursing beneath his breath as darkness fell. They traveled at a slow, steady pace, silent and tense. Ariana did not order her men to set up camp and rest for a few hours. Not tonight. Perhaps not tomorrow night, either.

If there was a tomorrow night for any of them.

There was a bright half moon in a clear sky, lighting the way well enough for soldiers who were accustomed to seeing in the dark. A steep cliff rose to the right, hinting at the harshness of the mountains they would soon be traveling into. Straight ahead that cliff turned into a steep, rocky hill, slanted sharply instead of shooting straight upward into the night. To the left, a stand of thickly leafed trees hid small scurrying creatures from their eyes, but not their ears. The view had been much the same for the past several hours.

In his gut, Sian felt the weight of what was about to happen. He cared little for his own life, when weighed against the dire possibilities that Ciro's reign would bring, but Ariana deserved better.

In the beginning he had been more than willing to sacrifice her to the greater good, but tonight he was certain the world would be a better place if Ariana Varden remained in it.

The enemy they had been waiting for appeared suddenly, but Ariana's army had been so alert that the surprise did not cost them an insurmountable amount of time. Sian's reaction was immediate. He drew his sword, as Ariana drew hers, and he placed himself between her and the men who rushed toward her.

Ciro's army was primarily on foot, which gave Ariana and her soldiers an advantage. Some of them were also strangely armed with weapons which did not stand a chance against expertly wielded weapons at the hands of trained sentinels. In that, at least, Lilia had been truthful. The attacking soldiers fell, and Sian saw that it was men, not monsters, who died on the narrow road. He watched one of Ariana's soldiers fall, and then another, but he did not even think to rush to their aide. No, his place was here, beside Ariana. To the death, if need be.

"Shield!" he shouted.

She either ignored him or was unable to erect a magical shield in the chaos of battle. Enemy soldiers continued to attack her, and he saw no evidence of any enchanted protection.

Even though she was unable to erect the shield, Ariana fought well. Sian wondered if it was Diella who wielded the sword which answered the assault of one ill-prepared soldier after another. Her lessons, practical and magical, had not been in vain. When she was attacked by three soldiers from two sides, she fought not only with the sword in her hand but with a knife she magically plucked from the body of a fallen enemy soldier and sent hurtling toward the neck of the man who tried to attack her from behind. He knew it wasn't at all easy to manipulate objects while fighting, but Ariana managed quite well.