Sunset of Lantonne (65 page)

Standing back up, Ilarra told the woman, “I will not serve a monster that would do this to people he pretends to care for. If that means you have to kill me…”

Laughing lightly, the woman shook her head. “No, child, I do not intend to kill you. Dorralt would break your stubborn streak, but I prefer to show the young where they are wrong so they understand we are not the enemy. You call us monsters, but yet your spirit is tied to a beast and you travel with that.”

Ilarra paused, trying to figure out what the woman meant, then noticed Nenophar had appeared near the outskirts of the undead force.

Slowly, the Turessian looked his way, smiling coolly at him. “Do you even know what you have brought out here?” she asked Ilarra, getting up to face Nenophar at Ilarra’s side. “Can you see through his illusions? I cannot identify him, but I can see he is hiding his true appearance from us and have my suspicions. Sadly, he is preventing me from asking Dorralt for more information.”

Ilarra’s head began to ache as she watched Nenophar. In desperation, she looked to the Turessian woman, seeing that face-upon-face appearance she had seen briefly when facing her father. Putting a hand to her head, she turned her attention back to Nenophar.

The man remained still, calmly watching the women. To Ilarra, his entire appearance wavered and blurred as it had in the cave when he had been exhausted. Flickers of magical auras caught her eyes and a sense of something being hidden in plain sight evaded her attempts to see it directly. Somehow being near Liris gave Ilarra more strength to see past his magic, though it still was not enough.

“I will offer you this,” Liris told Ilarra, leaning close like an old friend whispering secrets. “Help me capture him and I can ensure your freedom. You and your family may either live in peace within these lands or leave as you see fit. Dorralt will forgive your resistance if that man is stopped.”

“My whole family?” Ilarra asked skeptically, but the woman looked truly sincere. “Your people already killed my family. All except my brother and he’s the one you’ve called a beast..”

Liris smiled and gave Ilarra a pitying glance. “Take your brother and go south. I will not pursue him there. If you take him north or remain here, I will kill him and all those like him.”

“He’s not the only wildling that has helped me…”

“He has done nothing of the sort,” Liris answered Ilarra. “He and his kind bide their time before they betray or kill us. They are animals and should be carefully watched. I have kept them as servants in the past, so please trust that I know what I am talking about, Ilarra. The creature that stands over there is something else and we need to chase him off or kill him or you will never be free.

“Call out for the dead to serve you and they will aid you in fighting him. You do not have to trust me or do this alone, Ilarra. I put you in control over this situation. Raise an army and we can do away with your shackles. You will not need Dorralt, your wildling, or this creature having control over you.”

Turning back toward the group of waiting corpses, Ilarra struggled with wondering whether she should even try. She had not decided if she would trust Nenophar or Liris, but knowing if she could actually control the walking dead might be useful information.

“Undead,” she called out, trying not to sound scared of what might come of her words, “surround that man.”

Every one of the zombies lurched into motion, stumbling toward Nenophar as a group. As they went, Nenophar calmly watched them circle him, remaining still as the zombies came to a stop all around him. The tight circle of corpses gave him only a few feet of open space and no clear escape, though Ilarra guessed if he really wanted to get away he could find a way.

Ilarra walked toward Nenophar, the Turessian following a few steps behind her. When she reached the line of waiting zombies, the group parted to let her through, then closed ranks behind her.

“This is how the thread ends,” Nenophar said seemingly to himself as Ilarra approached. “The prophecies were unclear. I had feared it would come down to my strength against yours. It appears I was justified. The prophecies spoke of your death and mine. I had not believed them entirely connected.”

Swallowing nervously, Ilarra looked back at Liris.

The woman nodded reassuringly. “We do not need to kill him,” she told Ilarra. “I would not ask you to murder someone you believed was your friend. Until we know what he is hiding, we cannot trust him, though. I will aid you in confining him.”

Nenophar finally looked Ilarra in the eyes. “This creature is wrong, Ilarra. Death is the only outcome of this situation. One or more of the three of us will die here and I know what the result of each death might be. Decide your own fate, and I will take the actions I must.”

Liris touched Ilarra’s arm and nodded toward Nenophar. “There will be no death unless he brings it,” the woman noted. “You have my word as a preserver. He is not one I am hunting.”

Ilarra watched Nenophar for any reaction, any indication at all what his thoughts or intentions were. He gave her nothing, studying her in much the same way with an utter calm that somewhat unnerved her. Deep down, she knew she could only trust Nenophar as far as he would let her, always hiding information from her. By contrast, the Turessian was being more forthcoming than Nenophar had ever been and seemed to genuinely want to help, even if she did work for the man that had done this to Ilarra.

Then, Ilarra’s eyes fell on the undead around them. Once proud and powerful orcs stood drooling on themselves, their shoulders slouched and eyes staring blankly at the ground. Wildlings of several breeds looked to have been dragged through mud and filth, their fur matted with dried blood and gore.

“Why do Turessians hate wildlings and orcs so much?” Ilarra asked, staring at a wolf that resembled Raeln a little too much for comfort.

“Some betrayals cannot be forgiven easily. We must protect ourselves from the barbarians who would destroy us, even if these were not the ones that did or meant to wrong us,” replied Liris, giving the undead a sad glance, as though she truly felt sorry for them. “That was why your village was targeted…your alliance with wildlings could not continue.”

Ilarra’s attention snapped to the woman and she realized her mind had been made up for her. She searched her memories—even those vague memories from others’ lives—trying to find anything that might kill someone like her. Hundreds of spells swept through her thoughts, but most she could not be sure would even work against a Turessian more powerful than Ilarra.

“Undead,” Ilarra announced, eliciting a momentary smirk from the Turessian, “attack her!”

The group of zombies rushed at the Turessian, who hesitated out of surprise. She tried to raise her arms to begin casting a spell, but every corpse that could reach her began clawing at her arms and back, trying to drag her down but managing only to interrupt her attempts at magic.

“Stop!” the woman shouted and every zombie froze where it was.

Ilarra took the brief moment she had available and began forming the symbols in her mind to unleash spell after spell at the woman. Flames and ice exploded in front of her, but Ilarra kept her eyes half-closed, trying to maintain her concentration so she could go from one spell to the next without pause.

Weariness began to creep up on Ilarra as the magic slowed, her breathing becoming labored. She stopped casting to catch her breath, and stumbled backwards as she opened her eyes and wiped at sweat that ran down her forehead. In shock, she realized that blood, not sweat, was leaking from her scalp and near her ears.

“You try too hard,” Liris said, throwing aside one of the zombies and standing back up, her clothing steaming and wet. She looked as though nothing more than a rainstorm had hit her. The zombies stood eerily still, waiting for new orders, though many had been burned or knocked down by Ilarra’s magic. “Child, you force my hand. Perhaps this is for the best. I will not need to hunt down your wildling if he dies with you.”

Suddenly, Nenophar was between Ilarra and the Turessian, using his body to block the woman’s first spell. Lightning crackled around him, then faded away as he grabbed Liris and ripped her head from her body. Kicking the body aside, he dropped the head at Ilarra’s feet and turned to face her.

“She will mend,” he told Ilarra, nudging the head with his boot. “What of us while she does? What is your decision? Fighting her does not mean you will follow me or trust me. Either we are allies or we are enemies, Ilarra. What I know of the consequences to the fabric of the world prevents me from choosing otherwise.”

Ilarra backed away from Nenophar, trying to buy herself time to think what she could do. She honestly did not trust him, but she saw few options. Her eyes kept darting back to the disembodied head at his feet. The man was dangerous beyond words…but so was she, if what she had seen of the Turessians was any indication.

Her attention went next to the undead, still waiting for orders all around Nenophar. She could easily command them to attack him, buying seconds for her to flee. It was tempting, but she knew it was not what she wanted to do.

“Undead…die,” she ordered, getting a slight rise of Nenophar’s eyebrow.

The zombies let out a raspy breath in unison and fell over. Almost immediately, their bodies began to fall apart, the gaping wounds held together only by the magical forces that animated them suddenly opening wider. Even the faint feeling of the zombies being “creepy,” as Ilarra put it in her own mind—a reflection of the dark magic required to make it continue walking around—had faded to no more than one might expect of any other corpse.

Looking down at the bodies around him, Nenophar told her, “This changes nothing. The prophecies spoken to me say the order of our deaths determines a great many events and sets the fate of my people. Will you kill me or will I kill you?”

“Your people?” she asked nervously. “Nenophar, I’m not going to hurt you or your people. I’d hope you felt the same…”

Before Ilarra could react, Nenophar was on her, his hands clamped onto her neck with incredible force. He hoisted her off the ground and tightened his grip until she could feel the bones in her neck popping and shifting.

“If you join with the Turessians, all of my kind die,” he roared at her, a raw hatred burning in his eyes. “Their lives will be forced onto the fabric, and one by one, they will be killed and used against the nations of mortal people.

“If I kill you, I can save my own life, Ilarra. I remain immortal and will escape the Turessians. I had to know if you would work with them, and you have considered it.”

Gasping to get air through her crushed throat, Ilarra wheezed, “I didn’t…join them. Does…killing me…save your…people?”

Abruptly, Nenophar dropped her at his feet. “No, it doesn’t,” he told her, hanging his head. “Neither your death or mine changes that outcome. That was what I was told, but we are both outside the fabric…I cannot see it for myself. Even if we do not kill one another, the order of our deaths sets those events in motion. My mother and the others have chosen to disbelieve, but I see one element after another of the prophecies coming true.”

“Then don’t kill me and I won’t kill you,” she croaked through the bruising of her throat as she scooted a little farther from Nenophar, lest he change his mind. “We work together. No one dies because neither of us is mortal. What happens then?”

Closing his eyes, Nenophar answered, “Then thousands more will die. There is no good solution. Every direction I turn, the prophecy entraps me. If we help one another and attempt to cheat the prophecy I was given, eventually your brother will die of old age and you will turn on me anyway. You falling to the Turessians dooms him, him dying dooms you, and your death signals one of the death knells of this part of the world.”

“Nenophar, I will not fight you.” Ilarra got up onto her knees and grabbed his hand. “Kill me if you have to, but we’re in this together. I will fight the undead as long as I’m able.”

Nenophar opened his mouth to reply, then choked as hands closed over his throat. Picking him off the ground and yanking him from Ilarra’s grip, Liris hurled Nenophar into the corn field, flattening out a long swath of the dry crops.

Looking down at Ilarra, the Turessian smiled at her work and touched the white scar that was fading where her head had just reattached itself. “Your friend is not as strong as he thinks,” Liris said, sounding hoarse. “The discussion was touching, but ill-advised. My instructions are simple, child. I bring you home and either teach that imbecile to leave us alone or kill him if he will not relent. I have the backing of a hundred or more brethren and their combined might is far more than either of you can stand against.”