Sworn To Defiance (22 page)

So she stayed silent as Sebastian continued to speak. “—found that a far more deleterious peril was seeking entrance into our land. You have heard tales of this threat before. In stories. In fables. In myths. But I am here to tell you it is true.”

“
What
is true?” yelled a woman from the far corner to the east.

Sebastian turned to her and said solemnly, “That the
blutgott
has torn a rift into this world. He seeks to bring his dominion of death and destruction to our doorstep.”

Uneasy laughter erupted from a few young nobles elbowing each other in the front row.

The walrus man banged his cane on the railing. The hollow echo of metal on metal drowned out their laughter. “Silence.”

They quieted.

The man then turned a dark gaze on the prince heir who had come to stand before him. “Surely you did not come to tell us this fable has risen?”

“I have,” Sebastian said with head raised.

“You have proof?” said one man in a belligerent tone.

Sebastian’s tone froze over. “Is my word not enough?”

“No,” said Lady Merriweather. “You tell us that the kind of god not seen in this plane of existence for hundreds of years has risen, and you come without proof?”

“What proof would you have?” Sebastian said with hands raised. “A shaman to show you the way? The north overrun and thousands of people dead before you seek to raise your forces?”

Murmured voices started speaking up around them. But this time they were silenced not by Sebastian on the podium or someone in the crowd but by a voice coming from the entrance.

Cloaked in darkness a voice rang out, “You want proof? Here is your
proof
. See the spectacle of death that has subsumed one of your venerated own. A man you respected. A man revered. A warrior. A nobleman. A servant of the empire.”

The shadow-cloaked man walked into the room and the darkness pealed back to show a familiar face—Lord Crassius.

Ciardis couldn’t help the feelings that flew through her head—relief, irritation, worry, and sorrow. She knew he intended to support Sebastian, why else would he be here? But how was the one-hundred-shilling question.

Where in the seven gods have you been, Crassius? Now what are you up to?

She wished she knew what he was going to do.

Behind him came one man leading a black horse with empty boots wedged into the stirrups. The horse pulled a processional barge behind it. As Ciardis got a clearer look at the barge, she couldn’t help the gasp of shock that escaped her mouth. Clasping her hand to her lips to hold back a sob, she watched as Lord Crassius walked around the arena followed by the riderless horse pulling the barge for everyone to get a good look.

As he and his follower passed by the shock in the crowd grew and everyone stood to look causing a wave of standing bodies and straining eyes to form.

When they passed close by Ciardis and Sebastian, she lowered her hand and stood trembling. She would not cry. She wouldn’t dishonor his memory like that. He had told her to be strong. To seek the aid of the dragons and the nobles and that was what she was here for.

Lord Crassius directed the barge with General Barnaren’s preserved corpse on it to take one final lap and then motioned for the handler to stop in front of the podium.

Crassius looked up at Sebastian while he waited at the head of Barnaren’s barge. Sebastian looked down and nodded to him in thanks.

She had to wonder if they had planned this new development together, but there was no time to ask, and besides, Sebastian hadn’t left her side all day.

Then Sebastian spoke. “Barnaren died fighting the
blutgott
and his evil minions. He died protecting these lands. And if you do not believe that call down one of your soulwalkers. These noble kinsman can bear witness to the statements I have told. Call them and hear them verify the words from my mouth, the memories I have seen and the horrors we have witnessed.”

Ciardis watched as Sebastian turned piercing eyes on the crowd. “You, Count Ryanis, or you, Marquis Bell?”

For a moment there was silence and then one of the men Sebastian called stepped into the arena. He walked silently over to the dead man and gently looked down on Barnaren’s still form. To Ciardis, he didn’t look afraid of death, instead he looked comfortable with it.

Looking up solemnly, the man stared at Sebastian.

“Please proceed, Marquis Bell.”

The man lowered his gaze and lifted a steady hand to cup Barnaren’s face.

Sebastian focused on the rise of Bell’s power with every fiber of his being.

So Ciardis asked Thanar,
What’s he doing?

He’s a soulwalker. He can speak to the dead.

Ciardis felt unease.
Like the Shadowwalker.

No, the Shadowwalker was far more dangerous. He could bind the shades and make them do his bidding. He was also the only one seen in decades. Soulwalkers are different. They’re less rare for one. They also can only do one thing
—
speak to the dead.

How’s that different from a necromancer?

That is the third form and the triumph of death magic, because a necromancer can do all of the above as well as revive the dead.

Fantastic.
It made her shudder to think about.

You asked.

Ciardis grimaced, it was like he knew what she was thinking even if she didn’t say anything. Then she realized that this was an effect of the
seeleverbindung
. Ciardis wasn’t stupid. She knew what it meant to have her soul tied to someone now and she wouldn’t forget it. But the fact that she was bound by mind and spirit to anyone else but Sebastian was something she liked to push to the very back of her mind like a dirty secret she didn’t want to think about.

It occurred to her that by forgetting that fact, it also made her vulnerable. Because the effects would sneak up on her without her notice and she was sure that there wasn’t a minute that went by that Thanar didn’t think of how he could manipulate the bond to his advantage. Maybe she should be considering why.

And I’m grateful for your response.
Ciardis responded.

Right
. There was more than just a touch of sarcasm in that one word.

Ciardis focused on the soulwalker who seemed to be communing with the spirit of General Barnaren even now as she watched the mage aura around his form rise and fall with every passing second.

Finally the man snapped out of his trance. He was pale, sweating, and trembling. With great effort he looked up at Sebastian with horror in his eyes and he said, “Heavens above and below.”

“Please,” Sebastian said. “If you feel well, recount what you’ve seen and heard to your colleagues.”

The man nodded and turned. Then he stumbled.

Lord Crassius said to his servant, “Help him to stand, Rafael.”

The man nodded and swiftly tied the horse’s reins to the guard rail. Carefully he slipped a hand around the weakened noble’s back as he helped Marquis Bell walk to the edge of the arena.

From there, in a strong and loud voice that carried despite his weakened state, Bell told the tale of the last days of General Barnaren, what he had seen on the battlefields of the north, and what he had told Ciardis Weathervane.

When he had finished, he turned to peer up at Sebastian and Ciardis on the podium. “My gift allows me to commune with the dead and pass on their messages to the living. This comes at a heavy cost. But I have one more gift to give. For all those who will take it, I will pass Barnaren’s message mind-to-mind.”

Shocked gasps emitted from more than one throat all around the room.

Whispers of “He can’t,” “Hasn’t been done in years,” and “Why would he risk his life for this?” came to her ears.

Apparently what he was about to give was unheard of.

More than that Ciardis, it’s the kind of self-sacrifice not many a noble would make. If this communing with the shade of Barnaren weakened his body, the messages will do triple that to his mind. It is not done lightly.

Compassion lit in Ciardis’s eyes.

But we could not ask for a better source of proof. Because what comes after will be enough to cement our cause in the minds of nobles all around this room,
Sebastian said in a tone of immense relief.

How so?
she asked.

Once he passes the message on to empathic mages, they can spread the gift of his communal session to others.

It will prove what we have said all along with one stroke,
she whispered.

Yes
.

As one, with heartfelt gratitude, both Ciardis Weathervane and Sebastian Athanos Algardis told Marquis Bell, “Thank you.”

Ciardis continued, “If I can be of service, please allow my aid.”

He smiled and shook his head. “I have heard tales of your gift, Weathervane, and I am grateful, but amplification of my power would do no good. I cannot make my memories propagate in multiple minds with a boost of power. It must be done individually before they spread like ripples through a pool. Your gratitude and the truth of the message is all that I need.”

With that he urged Rafael to help him hobble to the stands. He went from person to person, making sure to stop and share first with those who had empathic gifts. By the time he had shared his vision with a dozen people spread throughout the room, he had collapsed and Rafael had to carry him from the stands.

But the work Marquis Bell had set out to accomplish was done. Nobles all around sat or screamed with tears running down their faces.

Some asked, “What have we done?”

Others asked, “What can we do?”

Ciardis heard one distraught man scream, “This cannot be happening. The mages promised—they promised that the gods would never be invoked again!”

Another voice shouted, “We’re doomed!” over and over again.

Then finally she heard a voice of hope spread. It started with “Sebastian will know what to do,” and continued with “The prince heir has a plan.”

Finally Sebastian intervened. “Can we come together now? In peace to prepare for war?”

The nobles silenced and looked at him with tears tracking down many faces.

The walrus man knocked his cane against the railing. “I suggest we call a vote.”

“You can’t be serious!” snapped Ciardis, forgetting for the moment that every word would be amplified. As one, the nobles turned to her.

She was livid until Sebastian turned and said, “He is correct. All proceedings from the nobles’ court are done by majority vote. We shall proceed with it.”

Internally, Sebastian said,
This is a good thing.

Oops, I thought he was trying to dissent. Sorry.
She was a tad mortified.

Sebastian grabbed her hand and squeezed it affectionately.
You were only trying to support me.

Then he turned to the walrus man and nodded. Slowly eyes all around the room shifted their focus from her to the man who seemed to be a leader of some sort.

“All those in favor of supporting the prince heir’s fight against the dreaded
blutgott
?” shouted the man.

All around the room, nobles raised their hands to pinch their thumb and forefinger together in a circle.

The man looked around and harrumphed.

Then he looked to the prince heir and said triumphantly, “I would say majority rules.”

Sebastian nodded and smiled. Then the entire arena erupted in the voices of nobles shouting over each other to be heard. Ciardis couldn’t discern one question from the other in the cacophony. Sebastian, however, let them wash over him like soothing music.

He felt pride, she could tell. And he should. He had just got the largest and most powerful gathering of individuals in the empire outside of the guilds to back their quest to fight against a god.

Funny,
said Thanar,
desperation seems to make the unlikeliest of allies of people.

This time Ciardis didn’t contradict him. As she looked around at the nobles shouting, screaming, and generally causing havoc in the stands, she couldn’t say he was wrong. Until this day she was mortal enemies with a good half dozen of them, on non-speaking terms with a fourth and blatantly ignored by a third.

It was odd to be seen as the savior of the realm by people who hated you.

Or at least,
she thought wryly,
considering the fact that I barely spoke a word—to be seen as the future wife of the savior of the realm.”

And then she remembered.

Umm, Sebastian, think we should tell them about the engagement?

He blinked. Looked around. Looked back at her.

Not unless you really want to be tarred and feathered today. I think they have enough on their plates for now.

Ciardis’s lips twitched as she fought back a laugh. Only in Sandrin would a wedding be seen as an imminent threat to the social standing of the empire’s most powerful people. After all, she was a Lady Companion now, but once they formally announced their engagement, she had the feeling all hell would truly break loose.

How would the nobles of the empire take to being ruled by a woman one of their own had called a whore?

H
ours later Ciardis was exhausted. Noble after noble couldn’t wait to get a word in with Sebastian alone. He had been firm in his refusal to brush Ciardis aside though. That hadn’t stopped them from eagerly queuing and ignoring her like a wart on his arm. She saw her presence as both a blessing and a curse. Most of the nobles had ‘brilliant’ ideas that ranged from hiring twenty priests to do a chanting spiritual dance on the northern boundary to creating fighting ships to raid shores. The shores of what she had no idea, since the battle was on another plane of existence not in the lands of a country across the sea.

By the time the thirty-sixth noble came up—and yes, she was counting; she had had enough. But she knew Sebastian wouldn’t leave until he spoke to every single person with a harebrained idea, half-cocked battle plan or great-grandparent who had served in the Initiate Wars and promised they could find their ancestor’s detailed breakdown of troop movements in a dusty journal somewhere.