Anais and the Broken War (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 5) (4 page)

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Cedric didn’t want to worry Lady Mediera. And you’re so close to her. It didn’t seem wise to confide in you.”

I sighed. “She can’t be left in the dark.”

“You don’t have to convince me. I wanted to tell you both how bad things had gotten. But my vote doesn’t count, because I’m just an artist, as your friend Cedric puts it. He’s a peach.” Fynn sighed. “I suppose he’s just trying to keep Mediera calm.”

“Why would Mediera need to stay calm?”

“You weren’t there. She broke down in tears in one of our sessions. There have been some very unpleasant letters from the captains in the field. Afterward, Cedric decided that we shouldn’t tell her anything that might upset her.”

“If Mediera’s not making the decisions, than who is?”

 
“Cedric. Sort of. Gorman and Jacarda are letting him think he’s running the show, but he has no head for strategy. To be fair, neither do I.”

“Are you in contact with the fat man? Does he know what’s happening?”

“He hasn’t been in my head since the night Lord Pendragon died. I’ve tried to reach out to him, but I don’t know how. He never answers my calls.”

“And Gorman?”

Fynn shrugged. “I wish I knew. Gorman plays his cards near to the vest.”

“The two of you seem close. I’m surprised he doesn’t confide in you.”

“Gorman makes everyone feel like they’re his friend. He’s good at that. But, no one’s close to him. Not really. He only brought me into this because of you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You trust me.”

I blinked. “I do?”

Fynn swatted my shoulder. “Yeah, you do. You trust me more than you trust Gorman. And Gorman knows that.”

“Okay. I suppose I do trust you. But, why does that matter? Why do I matter?”

“You matter because you are one of the few people close to Lady Mediera. And Lady Mediera is a symbol. She represents safety and continuity. Gorman needs her just as Lord Pendragon needed her.”

“Does Gorman want to rule the city?”

Fynn sighed. “I don’t know if he’s ambitious by nature. He’s a pragmatist. He doesn’t want the city to fall to the furies. Someone has to lead the people and the army to prevent the worst from happening. Who would you suggest do the job?”

“It should Mediera.”

“You’re right, of course. It should be. And maybe she will.”

“Not if you’re keeping things from her.”

Fynn sighed. “You’re arguing with the wrong person. You do know that.”
 

As we spotted the arches of the stables, I put my hands in my pockets, searching for a chunk of black rock or Gorman’s ring. But my pockets were empty. Although I was wearing my black pants, shirt, and leather boots under my dress and had my blades strapped to my thigh, I didn’t have the one thing that really mattered. I should have been prepared for this, but I wasn’t. I had been carrying that ring with me for weeks, but this was a freshly washed dress. I winced.

“I don’t have any black rock, and I need it if I’m going to try to bury a band of furies. Can we go back?”

“There’s no need.” Fynn reached into his bag and fished out a string of black pearls. Each bead gleamed bright in the sunlight.
 

“It’s lovely,” I whispered as Fynn dropped the necklace into my hands.
 

“Gorman had it commissioned from a local jeweler. They’re beads of black rock glass. He made sure they were produced with the highest grade of purity. An expensive little trinket, to be sure. But, he thought they would suit your needs.” He grinned. “Do you think it will work?”

My fingers burned as they touched the impossibly smooth surface of the beads, and a low humming buzz twisted through my mind.
 

I nodded at Fynn. “It’s gushing with power. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“Good. For we don’t have time to get you something else.”

I tucked the necklace into my pocket, not wishing to be distracted by its charm as we dealt with stable master, who handed me the reigns to a white mare after Fynn finished explaining our needs to him. It whinnied and touched my hand with its nose as if it recognized me. I knew it couldn’t be the same horse I had ridden after leaving the skins training grounds. That would be impossible. I stroked her neck before I pulled myself into the saddle.
 

Fynn was given a large black stallion, which he climbed on awkwardly. It seemed much too big for his slender frame. But he had requested a warhorse, and that was what he received.

I led the way as we rode to the city gate, while Fynn struggled to control his mount.
 

“I thought this would be an elegant mode of transportation,” he muttered as he jerked in the saddle.”

“It is. You should have asked for a different horse.”

“Absolutely not. This is a warrior’s horse.”

“And you consider yourself a warrior?” I laughed.

“Of course. I’m about to throw myself into the fire with you. I should at least look like a champion.”

“Okay, okay. You’re a hero.”

“That’s right.”

We pulled our horses to a stop as we approached the southern gate.
 

“The gate’s closed,” a guard clad in red livery said in a clipped voice. “No one’s coming in or out today.”

“Except for us.” Fynn handed him a note stamped with Gorman’s seal.

The guard made a show of unrolling the parchment, but it was unclear whether he could read the words printed on the page.

“Have it your way. But, I’m keeping the scroll. Gorman will want it back.”

Fynn nodded. “He likely will. Our thanks.”

After the guard had disappeared into the gate tower, the lattice grilles of the interior and the outer portcullis were raised. I looked up at the metal spikes hanging over our heads as we road through the gateway and wondered if they would stop a hoard of violent furies. I didn’t think so.

After we had passed through the arches, four men clad in red livery and riding hard flashed into view. They were moving toward the city gate. The guard, who had opened the gate for us, called into the tower, and four men quickly scrambled out to join him. They didn’t close the portcullis. I considered asking Fynn if we should wait and find out what news these men brought from the field, but I decided against it. Gorman had given us an order, and I didn’t want to give these men a chance to overrule him.

My heart sunk as we crossed paths with the men. I recognized one of them–Captain Carrenhail. I didn’t think Fynn had ever had the misfortune of encountering him, for I didn’t notice a sign of recognition on Fynn’s face. They did not stop to question us, and I was grateful for that.
 

I stopped the mare after we lost sight of the city walls. I was leading, but I wasn’t certain of our destination. Fynn pulled his stallion to a stop next to me, and I noticed how red his face was. He inhaled and exhaled sharply, catching his breath.

“Do we have to go so fast?” he asked.

“You need to improve your riding skills.”

“Clearly.”

“Where are we going, Fynn?” I asked.
 

“Gorman said we should follow the main road south until we hit the first path heading west toward the mountains. The hoard of furies had taken a military camp that was set up on the road. Since they tend to mill about for a few days after a large kill, he thought they would still be there.”

“That sounds reasonable. Should we get going?”

“Wait, perhaps we should rest for a while. Maybe eat. I have some bread and cheese in my pack.”

I frowned. “We’ve only been riding for two hours.”

“I know. But, once we find the furies, we’ll be otherwise occupied.”

“All right. You probably have a point.”

After I had dismounted from my mare, I pulled my sister’s headpiece and dress off and tucked them in my mare’s saddlebag before tying my loose hair into a bun at the nape of my neck. I poured some water from the water skin into my hands and let the horse drink. She seemed thirsty, and I was suddenly grateful that Fynn had wanted the break. A tired horse would not be much of an asset in the upcoming battle.

“Well, now you look the part,” Fynn said as he handed me a chunk of cheese and a torn piece of the loaf of bread.

I pulled a blade from its sheath on my thigh and used it to cut the piece of cheese in half. I took a bite, and then took a swallow of water from my skin.

Fynn, still clad in a courtly velvet blouse and white leggings, lounged next to me in the grass, eating his bread. I couldn’t see where he was hiding his blades.

“Fynn, where are your knives. You did bring them?”

“Oh yeah. They’re in my saddlebag somewhere.”

I didn’t like that he was willing to treat his weapons so recklessly.

“Have you used your blades in combat?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Have you used them at all since leaving the skin’s training grounds?”

He shrugged and shook his head again.

I sighed. I hadn’t considered Fynn’s lack of experience. While I had been fighting, he had been spying for the fat man. Of course he wouldn’t have needed to practice the combat skills he had learned.

“Do you think that will be a problem?” Fynn asked. “Gorman didn’t seem worried.”

“Gorman either has an unrealistic idea of my abilities, or he doesn’t care that this little excursion is putting us both in danger.” I sighed. Complaining wasn’t going to get us anywhere. “Why don’t we practice a little?” I suggested.
 

We left the horses to graze in a meadow of grass beside the road while Fynn and I stepped into the wood. I made him throw his blades into a tree over and over again until it seemed he could make his target without too much effort. At least the skills the fat man had imbued us with were not a temporary phenomenon.

He smiled. “You know, I’m pretty good at this.”

I swatted him. “I think you’ll manage.”

As Fynn pulled his blade from the tree, a blurred black shape jumped on his back. I pulled my blade from my thigh and drove it into the creature’s throat. It fell to the ground, and Fynn and I stared wordlessly at our fallen foe while noises broke out from all directions. We were surrounded.

C
HAPTER
4

I YANKED MY blade out of the fury’s back, grateful that I hadn’t lost it. My arm stung from the effort. The blade had gone deep into his flesh. Crouching down low, I took inventory of our situation. About two-dozen furies milled amongst the trees, neither moving toward us nor abandoning us. Swaying forward and back, they were like a gentle tide. I shivered. Why had only one struck? A second fury stepped away from the hoard and then leapt at Fynn. He threw his blade, and it hit the fury in the chest. It fell to the ground, black blood oozing from the wound. Unfortunately, the fury’s body was too far away for us to recover Fynn’s weapon. Fynn gripped his second blade, and I worried that he would try to hit one of the furies in the trees.

“Don’t throw it,” I warned him.
 

“Why not? I think I could strike one. My aim is true.”

“If you throw it, you’ll be defenseless.”

“Good point,” Fynn conceded.

Another fury ran at us, and I threw one of my blades, smoothly felling it. Now we were both down to our last blade. I turned, looking for an avenue of escape.

“The tree. Can you climb it?” I asked.

“Let’s find out,” Fynn said with a shrug.

Using gnarls and knots for footholds, I scrambled up the thick trunk of the oak tree, hugging it as I moved upward. After I had settled on a high branch, I looked down and watched as Fynn hoisted himself up, hand and then leg, until he was sitting on a branch next to me. His blouse was torn and bloody, and his leggings covered in dirt. His perfect curls had come loose, giving him a haphazard look. He no longer appeared like a courtier. He looked ragged. I let out a long slow breath, grateful to be safe for the moment. When I opened my eyes, I could see Fynn staring into the distance, frowning. Near the clearing by the road, the horses were still eating, unaware of the impending doom. Most of the furies had now turned their attention away from us. This must be the reason they hadn’t rushed at us. They smelled the horses, and it likely confused them.

Not wanting to watch, I closed my eyes.

Fynn gasped, and I blinked my eyes open. In the distance, a swarm of slick blue-green bodies huddled where the horses had been.

“Both of them?” I asked.

“Your mare got away, but my stallion was not so lucky.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“The horses are the least of our problems,” he said as he pointed to the trunk of the tree where four furies were clawing at the bark. “I’ve never seen one so close.”

“Did you ever see the one in the arena?”

“Sure, but I never sat close enough to really
see
it. I could never afford those sorts of seats, nor would I have wished to be so close.”

“At least we’re safe,” I said.

“For now. However, we can’t stay up here indefinitely, for we have no food or water.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, my eyes fixed on the furies swarming the poor stallion. I hoped it had died quickly.