The Prince of Exiles (The Exile Series) (67 page)

BOOK: The Prince of Exiles (The Exile Series)
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“The Aspects!” Leah gasped. “White Bloodmagic turns them back into Aspects – just like the passing of the daggers performed by the Elders! The Ox Talisman … is already an Aspect, because Raven absorbed it and then passed it on to Tomaz.”

 

“But Davydd,” the Prince gasped, “I killed Tiffenal with Davydd’s sword … I didn’t pass it to him at all.”

 

“You did,” Leah said, shocked, “because his sword is also his Anchor. His blood is in that sword – you pulled the Fox Talisman out, and then it flowed along the sword to Davydd!”

 

“Well done indeed!” Geofred cried, running to her and stroking a long finger down her cheek, his sickly white skin and shaved head glistening under the flickering candlelight. “You’re only missing one piece of it now. Don’t give up yet darling, I know you can see it!”

 

“Leave her alone!” The Prince roared, straining against his bonds.

 

“You can see it, can’t you?” Geofred continued, ignoring him. He was fixated on Leah, his eyes full of a strange kind of lust. He sought out in intelligence what other men sought out in carnal pleasures … and he had set his sights on Leah.

 


Get away from her!

 

“Answer the question deary,” he said, stroking another finger down her cheek, the pure, nearly albino skin standing out like a brand against the girl’s dusky olive hue.

 

“Because only the Aspects can beat the Talismans,” she said, her eyes far away for a moment, before focusing back on Geofred’s pale blue eyes.

 

“YES!” Roared the Eagle, turning from her and throwing his arms wide to the room at large, almost seeming to embrace the air in his mental ecstasy. “By the
Empress
, I like her. You have chosen well
indeed
brother!”

 

“But why would you want to beat the Talismans?” Leah continued, shaking her head back and forth as much as the restraints allowed. “Why would you possibly want that?”

 

“Care to answer for her where the Talismans draw their power little brother?”

 

Geofred had turned to the Prince and extended a long-fingered hand.

 

“The Talismans draw their power from the Empress,” said the Prince slowly. “The source, the physical Talismans themselves, the ones embedded in her Crown.”

 

“Yes,” hissed the Eagle, turning back to Leah. “And the Aspects, when turned from the black Talismans, no longer owe allegiance to the Crown.”

 

“You’re doing it to take power
away
from the Empress? To cripple her?”

 

“Oh no,” said the Eagle, “I’m doing it to
kill
her.”

 

The Prince suddenly felt as though his world had been turned inside out. What his brother was saying … it didn’t make sense.

 

“But … why?”

 

“Because my blood will be spilled as well,” said Geofred quietly, looking inward. “Mother wants to kill me … just as she wants to kill you.”

 

He looked pointedly to the Prince.

 

“When I found that out, when that Prophecy came to me, I turned on her. I knew there was only one way to make her pay for betraying me like that …
me,
the one son without whom she couldn’t run this Empire. So, I made sure that you were chosen as the Raven – when I tested you as a child I did not test you for intelligence alone, I tested you for compassion, for the ability to love. I needed someone pure, someone who could inherit Aemon’s Blade and cleanse the Talismans. Yes, I knew about the Blade. And when your father came along, when I saw him enter the city, the last of Aemon’s line, the opportunity was priceless. I could see what his love for the Empress would bring about. I could have warned Mother. I could have told Her that the Child she bore from that man had the chance to bring about her downfall … but for the first time in my life, I remained silent, to see if Mother would go about the affair anyway. And she did … her love blinded her. She could have seen what I saw, but she chose not to.”

 

He came close to the Prince, speaking sternly.

 

“See? Not divine.
Not
all knowing. Powerful beyond imagination yes, but still fallible. I spent years spreading propaganda, rumors and stories about her power, and I did it so well that even the other Children began to believe it. But she is no more divine than you or I.”

 

There was noise outside the Cathedral – a loud booming sound, and then cries and swords, very close. Geofred turned quickly to Leah and spoke once more like a schoolmaster instructing a promising pupil.

 

“Our time is up. Remember this, that emotions cloud the intuition that lets you see the future. Emotions are weakness. They have no place in you, not when you are looking into the future.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Leah asked slowly, fear and bewilderment in her wide, green eyes. The Prince felt fear growing in his heart – the fact that she was still alive meant that his brother had a purpose for her.

 

“And make
sure
that you never ever
ever
read the future while drunk, bad things come from it, bridges get burned … it’s just a mess.”

 

“No,” the Prince said softly, not wanting to believe it. “
No, no don’t you dare Geofred! DON’T YOU DARE CURSE HER!”

 

Geofred turned and smiled at him then, a sharp, condescending smile that was also full of a strange affection. It made the Prince feel as though he was only five years old again.

 

He addressed the Prince directly now.

 

“Keep them close brother,” said Geofred, “you will need their help with Mother. I’d tell you what comes after this, but I can’t – it turns out the Eagle Talisman cannot see beyond the wearer’s death. You may die ten minutes from now. Dysuna may take the walls and kill you all for what you did to Tiffenal. Hell, I don’t even know if the girl will survive the transfer, there’s a chance it will drive her insane. But I gave you the best chance I could. So this is the last thing I will tell you before I go, the last Prophecy I leave: when all hope is lost, when you are fighting Her in Lucien, as you know you must, look to the heavens, and remember that where the world is thin, reality is what you make of it.”

 

Geofred smiled once more and unwrapped the small object he’d held concealed in the piece of cloth – it was a stylized hairpin, made from white Valerium, topped with an ornamental rose and bearing several long, sharp briars along it’s twisting stem.

 

Leah’s Anchor. The one she’d lost outside Roarke.

 

No,
realized the Prince.
The one Tiffenal stole to give to Geofred.

 

“Impossible!” Leah hissed.

 

“Valerium,” the Prince whispered.

 

Geofred smiled and stepped up to him.

 

“Kill the bitch, brother.”

 

He pushed the pin into the Prince’s hand, pulled his arm free of the gold metal restraint, and then struck a pressure point in the Prince’s neck. The reaction was immediate and unstoppable – the Prince cried out in pain, and his arm shot forward, ramming the razor-sharp needle of the pin into Geofred’s neck. Blood immediately began to gush from the wound, bubbling up from under the Prince’s hand, and as the Eagle died, the Prince heard the drums of war pounding all around them. Dysuna had surrounded the city.

 

Leah began to scream, and so did the Prince.

 

Memories came into him – memories of nearly five hundred years of life, more memories than any one mind could ever be able to deal with.

 

The bonds fell to the floor around them, their enchantments broken now that Geofred was dead. Fighting through the pain, the Prince pulled himself free of the remaining constraints, pushing the memories out from behind his eyes, trying to clear his vision, forcing his body to make its way over to Leah, knowing that she would need his help to get through this – knowing that without him, she wouldn’t survive.

 

He held onto Aemon’s Blade with all his strength, staggering toward Leah, whose eyes had rolled back in her head as she screamed and screamed, the sound piercing him like jagged pieces of broken glass. Each beat of his heart brought with it the pounding weight of his brother’s life, threatening to overwhelm and submerge his mind.

 

He grabbed and cradled Leah in his arms, his body wrapped protectively around hers as Tomaz came up and held them both, lending what strength he could.

 

And then she stopped screaming and fell silent. The Prince pushed the memories away from him, trying not to let them in, though there were so many of them, so many that he felt the weight alone might crush him. He looked down and cupped Leah’s face in his hands, shook her, trying to wake her, trying to find a meaningful sign of life, but she remained quiet and lifeless.

 

A man burst into the room – it was General Gates, bloody and breathless. He looked around, saw the dead form of the Prince of Eagles, the unconscious body of Leah, and stumbled forward with wide eyes.

 

“Don’t just stand there man!” Roared Tomaz. “Report! What’s happened?”

 

“The … the city is ours,” he said. “But we’re surrounded.”

 

He was cut off by a deep rumbling that came from above. They looked up and saw red Bloodmagic runes that had been carved into the ceiling. They were glowing with a bright red fire, shaking the whole structure; it was Geofred’s last revenge, the last insult to Mother.

 

“Raven!” Roared Tomaz. “We have to go –
now!
The Cathedral is going to fall!”

 

Pieces of the roof broke off and began to crash down around them as the enchantment took effect. A rack of candles was overturned and ignited the rows of wooden pews in a roar of fire – flames licked the sides of the Cathedral in a matter of seconds as tapestries caught and burned as well. Tomaz was roaring for him to move, and the Prince knew he should.

But all he could do was sit there, cradling Leah in his arms, as the world burned around him.
 

Rikard stepped forward into the light of the dais and immediately the Bloodmages around him grew silent, the darkness gathering strength and power as their concentration shifted to the Lion. Any other man would have felt indescribable fear at having the gaze of over a hundred Bloodmages focused on him and him alone. That many mages taken together could level a mountain.

 

But a single word from him could silence them forever, before they had the chance to cast a single spell. He was the Prince of Lions, and he feared no man.

 

“Is everything in readiness?” He queried, his voice a booming roar even when kept level.

 

“We are growing close my lord,” said a Bloodmage. The man’s voice was quiet and rasped from long years of working in his trade.

 

“Good,” Said Rikard. “The Empress has sent out word for us to begin.”

 

The silence, deadly before, now grew even more terrible. Not a single one of the mages even dared to move. For a long moment no one spoke either, until the excitement grew too much, and the Bloodmage who had spoken before spoke again.

 

“My lord … is the time truly upon us? The time when we shall harvest the souls and reap them for the Empress’ ascension?”

 

“Indeed,” said Rikard. “At dawn we begin preparations for the Return. Every man, woman, and child, now living in the major cities of the Empire will be collected and brought to you.”

 

“All of them sire?”

 

Rikard turned to look at the man, in robes dyed so dark a red it seemed almost black. These creatures were repugnant, but he knew they were necessary. Luckily they wouldn’t be for much longer.

 

“Yes,” the Lion purred, “all of them. And all of their power – every single drop – is to be siphoned into the crystal you were given.”

 

“Oh yes,” rasped the Mage, “yes indeed. We know out duty.”

 

“Good,” said the Lion, and turned to leave. The ferrety man by his side, the one who’d shown him the way down here, ran beside him, and Rikard knew he wanted to ask questions. After they had left the chamber the Lion stopped and looked pointedly at him.

 

“Speak,” he commanded, reaching through the Lion Talisman as he did so, which glowed with a beautiful white light through his hair and along the sharp, handsome planes of his face.

 

“Why are all the citizens of the Empire being brought here?” The man asked, unable to stop himself. He was a member of the Most High, and as such had the right to speak directly to the Children, and, what was more, a certain amount of protection from harm due to his usefulness in the higher councils of the land. But he was right to be afraid, Rikard knew. He gave his temper free reign, and when those beneath him asked questions, he often shortened them by the length of a head.

 

“They are being brought here to be harvested.”

 

“Har-harvested my Prince?”

 

“Indeed,” said Rikard, tilting his head slightly to the side as he eyed the man, a cat toying with its prey. “Their lives are to be taken, and the Bloodmages are to harvest the power of their deaths. Just as the Raven Talisman does – just as they were always meant to do.”

 

“And so the Return begins.”

 

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