The Legend Of Eli Monpress (13 page)

The Lord of Storms unsheathed his sword with a ring of steel. “Killing the demon is all that matters,” he said, admiring the blue silver blade with a bloodthirsty smile. “Everything else can burn to ash.”

“Everything?” Alric arched an eyebrow.

The Lord of Storms swung his sword, his silver eyes lightning bright as he watched the air spirits flee before the blade. “Despite her whims, there are some rules even the Shepherdess can’t afford to break, and the lady always finds a new favorite in time.”

Alric bowed low. “We shall be ready. The League of Storms moves at your command.”

The Lord of Storms nodded, and Alric slipped quietly out of the room. Closing the door behind him, he set off down the narrow hall to ready the League for the hunt.

J
osef leaned against the tall boulder that marked the outer ring of the clearing that he’d chosen as their trade-off point, sharpening his dagger. It didn’t need the sharpening, but it was a good way to kill the time, and he had plenty of time to kill. Nico and the king were a few feet away, Nico looking thoughtful, the king looking terrified, standing at the very end of his tether. Eli was around the other side of the boulder, as he had been for the past half hour, talking to it animatedly. Josef ignored him when he could, focusing on the sound of the blade as it slid over the stone. Finally, the boulder rumbled gently, and Eli came around to Josef’s side, looking very pleased with himself.

“Are you done gossiping with the scenery?” Josef said, holding his knife out in front of him to check the edge.

Eli rubbed his hands together. “For your information, I’ve just created a foolproof escape.”

“From what?” Josef said sullenly. “There’s nothing here. Are you sure your bird even made it?”

“Of course,” Eli said, leaning on the rock face next to him. “The falcon told me he dropped it straight into a guard’s dinner. They’re just late. I’m sure the ransom will be showing up any moment now. In the meanwhile,” he reached into his jacket pocket, “who’s for a nice, friendly game of—”

“No.” Josef’s dagger landed with a thunk in the dirt less than an inch from Eli’s boot. Eli glanced at the dagger, still quivering from the impact, and then back at the swordsman.

“You’re oversharpening those.”

Josef bent down to retrieve his knife. “I don’t tell you how to wizard, so don’t tell me how to fight.”

Eli’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t think you can use ‘wizard’ as a verb like that.”

“And I don’t see how your little tea party with a rock is going to cover our escape,” Josef said, slamming the dagger back into his boot. “I guess we’ll just have to trust each other.”

Eli took a deep breath, preparing to point out all the ways that grammar and wizardry were different, but a look at Josef’s expression told him it could be a bloody argument, mostly his blood, and he decided to leave it at that. Thankfully, that was the moment the riders appeared at the opposite edge of the clearing.

“Nico,” Josef said, tightening the iron sword on his back as he and Eli took the forward positions. “Make sure his highness doesn’t get any ideas.”

Nico nodded and yanked the rope, knocking the king to his knees.

As Eli had the king specify in his instructions, there were only five riders. Three of them rode in a point
formation while the other two hung back, riding as a pair, with an iron-bound, triple-locked chest slung between their horses. Eli’s grin widened. When they reached the clearing’s edge, one of the forward riders, a thickset balding man in polished armor, stood up in his saddle.

“Majesty!” he shouted. “Are you hurt?”

The king sprang up, jerking his tether. “Oban!”

Nico gave him a hard tug, and the king quickly sat down again. “I’m fine! Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“We had no intention to, Henrith,” the man at the point of the formation said flatly, removing his helmet to let his blond braid swing freely down his back. “This situation’s idiotic enough as it is.”

The king stopped straining against Nico’s hold. “Renaud?” he whispered. All at once, he lunged forward, fighting against the rope. “Renaud!” Nico slapped him hard behind the knees, and he tumbled to the ground, but his eyes were still on the blond rider. “What are you doing here, brother?”

Eli glanced back. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Not many outsiders do,” Renaud said. He sat back on his skittish horse, looking them over. “You must be Eli, the thief.”

“The very same.” Eli smiled courteously, nodding toward the reinforced chest. “And unless you’re planning on setting up house in the woods,
that
must be my gold.”

Renaud raised his hand. At his signal, the soldiers dismounted and began unlocking the chest. It took a full minute to undo the locks and the three chains before the soldiers threw back the lid and stepped aside. Eli licked his lips. The chest was filled to the brim with sparkling, oblong, golden coins.

“Five thousand council standards,” Renaud said flatly. “As agreed.”

“Ah,” Eli said smiling. “And the other part of our bargain?”

Renaud took a tightly rolled scroll out of his saddlebag. “It arrived by special courier this morning,” he said, unfurling the paper. “The first one, straight from the Council’s copy rooms.”

Stretched between his hands was a bounty notice bearing an enormous likeness of Eli’s face at its center and his name in block capitals across the top. Best of all, however, was the number stenciled across the bottom in thick black blocks: fifty-five thousand gold standards. Eli let out a low whistle.

Renaud rolled the notice back into a tube and tossed it casually on top of the piled gold. “Everything you wanted, exactly as promised. Now give me my brother.”

“Gold first,” Eli said, putting his hand on the king’s rope.

Renaud nodded, and the third rider, a dark-haired swordsman with a scar across one side of his face, dismounted. He took the reins of the chest carriers and led them out to the center of the clearing, twenty feet from either party. There, he cut the straps, and the chest fell with a thud onto the dusty grass. He led the horses back to their riders and took his place again beside Renaud.

When he stopped completely, Eli nodded to Nico, and she released her death grip on the king’s tether. Eli picked up the slack and twisted the rope around his arm until it was tight. Then he put his hand on the king’s shoulder and, tied together, they started the slow, silent walk to the center of the circular field.

Five feet from the gold, Eli stopped. “All right,” he
said slowly, “I’m going to let him walk forward. Any funny moves on your part, and”—he tugged the rope, nearly taking the king off his feet—“Got it?”

Renaud nodded, and Eli unclamped his hand from the king’s shoulder. The king walked forward. As soon as he passed the gold, Eli reached for the chest.

He heard the spirit almost too late, and he jumped back just in time as a bolt of blue lightning shrieked inches from his face. He fell backward, tugging hard on the rope. The king came flailing after him, and they landed in a heap a few feet from the chest.

“That’s enough,” said a cold voice. The thick brush at the edge of the clearing rustled, and the enormous ghosthound stepped into view, Miranda sitting high on his back. They were dirty, and Miranda looked like she was having trouble staying mounted, but the hand she pointed at Eli was steady as a stone, and the blue lightning arcing from the large aquamarine on her right middle finger was nothing to be flippant about.

Gin padded silently across the open ground. “I don’t know how you dodged Skarest,” Miranda said, and the lightning on her arm crackled angrily, “but the next shot will kill you before the girl can move.” She shot Nico a glare before turning it on Eli. “Step away from the king and put your hands out where I can see them.”

“What do you think you are doing, Miss Lyonette?” Renaud said, reining in his nervous horse.

“The Spirit Court is done playing politics, Renaud,” she said. “My orders were to placate the local officials only if it did not interfere with my primary mission.” She gave him a cold look. “Mellinor is free to deal with Mellinor’s problems, prince, but this thief will answer to us.
Now,” she continued and turned her glare back to Eli, and the lightning arced high above her head, “release your hostage and put out your hands, Mr. Monpress.”

Eli got to his feet, smiling cockily. “And if I don’t?”

“My orders are to apprehend you and bring you to the Rector Spiritualis.” She smiled right back at him. “But they didn’t specify what condition you had to be in when you got there.”

Eli opened his mouth to reply, but Miranda never got to hear it, for at that moment, her lightning spirit discharged.

It happened instantly, as if some giant hand had plucked the lightning off her finger and hurled it across the clearing. The world became very still, and she could do nothing but watch in horror as Skarest arced through the air with an ear-ripping crack and struck the center of the king’s chest. King Henrith convulsed and toppled to the ground, a thin wisp of smoke rising from his open mouth. Lightning sparked on her fingers as Skarest returned to his ring, and the spirit’s fear racing through their connection made her blood run thin.

“Mistress!” he crackled. “He was too strong, mistress. I couldn’t fight him!”

“Who?” Miranda shouted, but the spirit had buried himself in his ring.

The Mellinor group was frozen in shock, and even Eli was gaping at her. Only the prince kept his composure, turning on her with a look of triumphant hate.

“Foul murder!” Renaud shouted, breaking the stunned silence. “The Spiritualist has killed our king! She’ll stop at nothing! Soldiers, attack! We won’t let her sacrifice our king to catch her mark!”

His words were like a match in a hayloft, and they
were barely out his mouth before a wave of spearmen wearing House Allaze blue poured out of the brush behind him and charged the center of the clearing.

Master Oban started to ride with the charge toward his fallen king, but Renaud grabbed his horse’s reins. “No, Oban! I’ll handle this! Get back to the castle and tell the others!”

Oban shouted curses, but he turned his horse and rode madly back into the woods, parting the line of archers that was forming up on the clearing’s edge.

“Kill them all!” Renaud shouted, waving the soldiers forward. “Avenge our king!”

The first volley of arrows launched with a ringing twang, and Miranda ducked low on her hound’s back. “Gin!” she shouted. “Get to the king!”

“You sure?” he panted, launching forward as the arrows sailed over their heads. “I don’t think it will do any good.”

“Henrith’s our only hope of salvaging this situation,” she said, and her hand shot to her throat, clutching the pendant through her shirt. “Eril! Give us some cover!”

Even a wind spirit understands a real emergency, and Eril set to work with no backtalk, raising a thick dust storm in a matter of moments.

As soon as the lightning struck, Eli knew he had to get the money. He rolled the fallen king over and felt his throat. There was a pulse, erratic but strong, and he decided that was good enough. He stepped over the king and made a dash for the chest, reaching it just as the first wave of soldiers crashed into the clearing.

“Nico!” he shouted, ducking under the arrow that whizzed by his head. “Josef! Get to the boulder!”

He dropped to his knees and grabbed the chest, but as soon as he touched it, his stomach sank. The iron-bound chest was heavy, but not nearly heavy enough. He popped the three locks and flung it open, plunging his hand inside. His fingers barely made it past the top layer of coins before they hit the wooden false bottom. For a moment, he just sat there, staring, as the soldiers charged forward. Then, while more arrows struck the ground beside him, Eli carefully folded the bounty notice and put it in his pocket. When that was done, he slammed the trunk’s lid and sprang forward, running toward where he’d last seen Renaud as an enormous, spirit-driven dust storm covered everything.

“Eli!” Josef shouted, squinting into the swirling dust. Get to the boulder? At this point he’d be lucky to find it. Voices shouted all around him, and he could hear the arrows whizzing overhead, but everywhere he looked, all he saw was dust. He didn’t have to be a wizard to know the cloud wasn’t natural. He just wished he knew which wizard it belonged to.

He felt someone behind him and whirled around, drawing his blade as he spun, only to find himself facing Nico. She pressed her pale lips together, cocking her head to peer quizzically at the sword point hovering beside her unguarded throat. “Jumpy?”

Josef sighed and lowered his sword. “How many times do I have to tell you not to do that? One day I might not stop in time, you know.”

“I trust you,” she said.

“Glad to hear it, but that doesn’t change”—he chopped an arrow out of the air just before it struck her shoulder— “the situation.”

A soldier loomed out of the dust behind her, his sword already falling. Without looking, Nico dropped to the ground, letting his overbalanced swing tip him forward. When he was halfway down, she shot up again, plunging her elbow into his unguarded stomach. The blow caught him right under his ribs, and he fell wheezing to the ground at Josef’s feet.