Whisper (24 page)

Falco held a single hand aloft, and the crowd quieted more quickly than one would think possible. “Are you all of one mind, then? You grant me sole right of vengeance?” Anyone who might have disagreed at this point wisely held his tongue, as the crowd boomed its approval. “So be it! Darius and the Maj witch will be forced to fight each other to the death! The winner will keep his or her life, and serve as my slave!”

The crowd cheered, though with somewhat less enthusiasm than they had shown only moments before. A battle to the death was all well and good, but the outcome was sure to be predictable; the way Darius towered over the Maj meant he would surely dispatch her with very little effort.

Darius lowered his sword arm and shook his head. Soon a smile spread across his features and a chuckle grew in his throat until it became full-blown laughter.

The crowd quieted at the Breken’s strange reaction to the decree. Perhaps, they thought, it was because he knew the outcome as much as they.

When his laughter subsided, he spoke, but there was no mirth in his voice. “You must know that we will not fight. Neither of us would ever take the life of the other, certainly not for the entertainment of scum such as you.”

There was a collective gasp from the crowd, as much in confusion as for the insult to Lord Falco. Why would he not fight? It made no sense to the mercenary hearts of the Breken people, especially not when his life could be spared.

Dearra remained silent, certain in the belief that there was no way this was going to end well.

“Oh, I believe that you will fight, Darius.”

“Then you believe wrong, for I would sooner take my own life than to harm one hair on her head.” To prove his point Darius turned the sword he held, grasping it midway along the blade, and rested the tip none too gently against his own abdomen.

Dearra felt Brin grow warm in her grasp, comforted by his presence though he spoke not a word.

“Hold!” Falco boomed as the crowds grumbled in complete astonishment. “Perhaps you should hear me out before you slice your own belly, young fool.”

“Speak then, and be quick!” Darius growled, keeping the sword in place.

“I said that the winner would keep his life and serve as my prisoner. This is true, but alas, that is not all. The wrong that you have both done is far too great to allow for such a mild punishment. Therefore, I say now that if Darius shall be victorious, he will be taken into the desert and hung there in the sun for three days. He shall be given a hundred small cuts, so that the birds may feed from his wounds. Fear not, Darius, for, as I have promised you, you will be allowed to live. I will set a guard to ensure that no predator takes your life, and to provide you with just enough water to keep you alive. After the three days are at an end, you will, indeed, be returned to my keeping to serve out the rest of your life as a slave in my home, but not before you have been emasculated.”

The crowds erupted in joyous applause once again. This scenario was more to their liking, indeed!

Falco held a hand aloft and spoke: “And dear, sweet Dearra, lest you think I forgot you or doubt your chances for survival, you, my darling, will, of course, not be taken to the desert; I would not have you so damaged. Instead, you will be employed as a useful diversion for my men. They grow so bored in the evenings. It may even be good sport for them to see how many may use your services in one night; they do so love a challenge.”

Jacob’s howl of protest was drowned out by the shouts of the Breken surrounding him.

Darius and Dearra looked at each other, an expression of horror and pain on their faces as each imagined the other suffering so hideous a fate.

“So what will it be? A quick death for your beloved or…?” He let the question hang in the air.

Darius bowed his head, defeated. “I will fight,” he said, his voice a throaty whisper.

“And you, Maj witch? After all, we must have two participants for our game to commence.”

The best Dearra could manage was a small nod.

The crowd’s voice swelled to overflowing as they rose to their feet and screamed their approval.

Time seemed to slow. The world around them melted away until the throng of people became no more than shadows that flickered and swayed just outside of their field of vision, and the screams and chants of the mob dulled to a low hum.

When Dearra spoke it was no more than a soft whisper, yet Darius heard her plainly. Whether Brin’s magic had amplified her voice or they were simply that attuned to one another, Darius could not say, nor, frankly, at this moment did he care.

“I will not curse you to be Falco’s plaything. You cannot ask me to.”

“Dearra, how can you think to ask me to do the same?”

“So what are our options? If we fight, I must try to kill you so that I might save you. And you will do the same. Either way, one of us lives only to be destroyed by Falco and the knowledge that we have destroyed the other.”

Darius gazed intently into Dearra’s eyes, which were now blazing gold, with no sign of the azure blue he had come to cherish. The desert air blew tendrils of her fair hair across her face, but she seemed not to notice, for she made no move to push them aside.

“There
is
another way,” Darius said.

Dearra cocked one brow, waiting for him to continue. It was such a sassy, almost casual expression, and so very Dearra. Darius felt as though a hand was gripping his heart and squeezing tightly, but she was waiting for his response, and there were no other options. Darius slowly, deliberately raised his sword so that its point touched just above her breast. To her credit, Dearra understood at once, and just as slowly, she raised Brin until
her
sword was upon Darius’s chest. Hers was set not as high as his, but it would be no less deadly when they shared their final embrace.

“Together,” she stated flatly.

“Together,” came Darius’s cool response.

“I love you, you know?” Dearra said. She smiled as a single tear escaped from between her lashes and slid down her cheek.

“And I you, dearest.”

Brin’s hilt had begun to burn. Dearra tightened her grip on it, took a deep, steadying breath, and closed her eyes.

Carly snuggled closer into Daniel’s embrace. She heard, “Why are you naked? Get dressed! Hurry!” and then, quicker than she’d ever seen him move before, Daniel was on his feet with a hand around the throat of the grubbiest Breken child Carly had yet to come across. She grabbed her gown and held it up to cover herself as best as she could. Though she expected to see a look of fear on the girl’s face, she looked only a little annoyed.

“Fine then, you great Maj bully, stay here, see if I care. I told Phillip this was a stupid waste of energy and that we’d probably get caught right away again anyway. Die here, die there—either way, you’re just as dead.”

At the mention of Phillip’s name, Daniel loosened his grip, but only enough so that he would not hurt the girl, rather than to allow her to slip away. Daniel’s quick appraisal of the girl showed him her many scars and bruises, some healed, some still fresh. It was no wonder the girl didn’t seem overly bothered by what should have been a very uncomfortable grip on her throat; this girl was certainly no stranger to harsh treatment.

“Speak quickly, girl, or I’ll kill you now and be done with it.” Daniel had meant for his threat to bring the Breken child under his control, but instead, she only shrugged.

“Are you deaf, old man? Didn’t I just say it mattered not where one dies?

“Kill me, then. A little pain now and you spare me from pain tomorrow.

“Now let me go, you red haired heathen.”

Daniel stared slack-jawed at the impertinent brat before him.

Carly struggled and fought with the still unfamiliar garments Darius had given her until her head had popped through the opening in her under-tunic. “Let her go, Daniel.”

“But, Carly,” he stammered, still taken aback by the girl’s behavior.

“Yes, Daniel. Listen to the fairy female. She seems brighter than you, at least.”

Reluctantly, Daniel released the child and took a step back. The door to the cell, he noticed, was slightly ajar. Was there someone waiting just out of sight, or had the child come alone?

“Who are you?” Carly asked in a voice that was calmer than she actually felt.

“Zusia, Second Daughter of House Falco. I’ve come to free you. Truly, it’s probably a waste of time, we’ll probably all end up getting caught, and then I’ll be stuck here forever. But Phillip says you aren’t as useless as you look, so I figured, what the hell.”

This was said in a rush, leaving Carly with nothing to do but shake her head.

Daniel eyed the open door. “You’re the lord’s daughter? How do we know we can trust you?” Daniel asked gruffly.

“You don’t, but what choice do you have?

“Are you coming or not?”

Daniel didn’t need to be asked twice. While Carly dressed hastily, he pulled on his boots, and the three of them slipped silently to the hall. Daniel felt like every inch of him was on high alert. He felt his heart pounding, and Carly’s hand as it trembled in his own.

The hall was deserted, but there was no guarantee it would remain so. Zusia clung tightly to the walls as she moved steadily onward, pausing now and again when they came to a side passage. She leaned forward just enough to chance a look around the corner, before continuing forward.

Twenty minutes had passed before the dirty child placed a hand on a rusted handle and tugged the heavy door open releasing a stench of decay which slammed, full force, into them. Carly gagged slightly, and Daniel’s nose crinkled in disgust, while the strange Breken child seemed not to notice the smell at all.

“What the—” Daniel started to ask, but was cut off when Zusia held a warning finger to her lips, and waived them forward.

She closed the door and noticeably relaxed. “Okay,” she said, “we’ll be safe here for now.”

“Where are we? It stinks like death!”

“That’s probably because it’s full of dead people. This is where we store the bodies. You can’t expect us to go out and dispose of the corpse every time somebody gets killed—we’d be runnin’ off to the desert constantly. We store them here and send a crew out once a week. Makes way more sense that way.”

“Oh, clearly. How stupid could I be?” Daniel added sarcastically.

“Pretty stupid. But you aren’t Breken so I won’t hold it against you, Weapons Master.”

Carly placed a hand on Daniel’s arm in time to stop him from issuing the stinging response she knew waited on his lips. “What do you want us to do?” Carly asked.

“They’ll be coming in the morning to haul off the dead. All you two need to do is to just wrap yourselves up in those lengths of canvas and they’ll do the job of getting you out of here for me. See? It’s simple!”

“Won’t they notice we’re not dead when they try to bury us?” Carly asked. “Unless you expect us to remain motionless while they cover us with sand and rocks.”

“Sand and rocks? Whatever would they do that for? It’s not like the dead get cold, or anything. As soon as they get you out a ways, they’ll just dump you, and then you can go get some help.”

“What about Phillip? Can’t we get him out too?” Carly suspected that if it were that easy they would have already tried it, but she still had to ask.

“Nah, they would notice if he was gone for more than an hour. They watch him pretty close, but you two aren’t so important to Lord Falco. He didn’t even have a guard on you. I think he was just planning on leaving you in there until you starved, or he got bored and decided to have some fun with you. It should be at least a couple days before anyone even knows you’re gone.”

As distasteful as spending the night in a room surrounded by corpses sounded, it beat the cell they had just come from, and Daniel had to admit the Breken child was pretty resourceful.

“You two just stay put. There’s no need to wrap up until dawn, seeing as they won’t come until after they’ve eaten, anyway.

“I’ll see if I can slip some water and bread down for you later. Whatever you do, don’t leave here. All you’ll wind up doing is just getting lost and then getting caught.”

State, state! Non est passus!
Brin’s words echoed through the stadium, heard by all. Darius and Dearra were flung apart in a powerful blast that radiated outward and pressed the stunned spectators back into their seats.

Dearra lay prone in the sand. She placed her unsteady hands on the ground in front of her and pushed herself up. Had Brin just spoken? Out loud? That was something new. She didn’t need a translator to get the gist of what he had said. Their death wasn’t something he was going to stand for, and he had used his magic to prevent it. Her ears rang; it took her a moment to realize the silence around her was more than just a side effect of the spell.

Finally, one of the spectators found his voice. “The sword! It is the sword of Hathal!”

“The sword has returned!” another spectator shouted.

“The sword! Get the sword!” yet another one called.

“We must have it!”

This had been what Falco wanted to avoid, but he was also thrilled to have his suspicions proven correct. The sword of Hathal had returned to the Breken after having been stolen a thousand years earlier, and there was no way he would allow it to be taken again! “Silence! Silence!” Falco shouted above the rising din. The crowd did quiet somewhat, but continued to mutter their surprise and awe. “I am as stunned as any of you! How the Maj witch comes to possess the great sword of Hathal is anyone’s guess, but I am grateful that the blade will now be delivered to my safe keeping!”

“
Your
safe keeping?” the previously silent Lord of House Tempestas roared in disapproval. “That sword rightfully belongs to my house, not yours! I demand it be returned at once!”

Everyone held their breath as they awaited Falco’s response. They knew the situation was delicate—if the main houses were at war with one another, the entire city would be thrown into chaos.

Falco turned slowly to face his adversary, his arm sweeping aside his flowing mantle and settling his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Lord Tempestas,” he began, “I had certainly never expected you to question my claim. I have always held your great house in high regard and thought you a man of your word.”

Darius snorted his derision, which was largely ignored.

“Do you question my claim? Everyone knows Hathal was of House Tempestas. It is
our
right to reclaim what was taken by the traitor Cyrus.”

Nods of agreement, and a few cheers greeted this proclamation, but those of House Falco roared their disapproval.

Falco held up a hand to regain order before speaking again. “It is true you may have some distant claim on the blade, but you abandoned that privilege today. Your voice was one of the loudest when it came to granting me the right to handle the fate of the two before us. That gives me sole claim now. Or do you wish to go back on your word?”

He was trapped and he knew it. Lord Tempestas could not be seen to openly defy the customs of his people. He would be forever marked by such a heinous act, and it would place his house standing in jeopardy. He concluded he had no other option but to back down for now. “As you say, Lord Falco. I did give my word. I ask that you excuse my momentary lapse in judgment. I was taken by surprise, and was not thinking clearly.”

“Of course, Lord Tempestas! How could I have ever thought otherwise?” Falco removed his hand from the hilt of his sword and clasped Lord Tempestas’s arm in a sign of reconciliation.

The leaders of the three houses descended the stairs to the pit followed by a swarm of personal bodyguards. Dearra made for the sword that lay several feet from her, and Darius moved to do the same, but was halted by four of the Breken guard before he could take more than a couple steps.

Falco seemed almost amused by the girl before him and made no effort to prevent her from reaching her destination.

Jacob hovered at Falco’s side and whispered urgently, “You promised! You promised she would be mine if I helped you!”

“I have rethought our arrangement,” Falco said, his words cold and harsh. “My need for you has ended. If I were you, Jacob, I would remain silent and enjoy what little time I had left in this world.”

Jacob, stunned by this turn of events, stared mutely at the savage Breken who held his life in his hands.

Dearra wrapped her hands around the hilt of the sword and held it before her, unsure of which direction they would strike from first.
Brin?
she thought.
Brin, say something! Are you ok?
But the dragon could not or would not respond.

“Witch!” Falco said, speaking loud enough for all to hear. “Give me the sword! You defile it with your touch!”

“If you want it, then come and get it, you overblown piece of Breken scum!”

Falco drew his sword and approached the insignificant girl before him.

Darius gave a fierce growl, and two more guards moved to restrain him further.

Falco paid no attention, but closed the distance between himself and his prize in three fluid steps. Had he thought he would easily disarm the child before him, he was greatly mistaken.

A lifetime of training had prepared Dearra for a direct attack, and she spun smoothly away from him, having danced this dance a thousand times before. She planted her feet beneath her and cocked her head, daring the Breken to approach. When he roared in anger and charged toward her, she sidestepped deftly. Only his own quick reflexes had saved him from losing an arm as the sword whistled through the air nearby.

Dearra was knocked briefly off balance as the much larger warrior used his mighty strength to retaliate, connecting his sword with her own. She found her balance again and put some distance between herself and the man who had begun to circle her. When he again came at her, it was with measured, cautious steps. The crashing sound of steel as their swords connected once more echoed in everyone’s ears.

Lord Falco stepped back a couple of paces and readjusted his grip. He paused to contemplate the girl before him. While he had been taught since childhood about the Mirin Tor and specifically the Maj, he had to admit the slight female before him was a surprise. He knew their women were trained to fight, but he had not imagined they could achieve any level of skill, certainly not enough to pose a real threat to him. He was now faced with the terrible truth, and he knew a moment of fear. What was supposed to be his finest hour had rapidly turned into an embarrassment.

Falco heard the murmurs rising from the crowd, mixed in with the odd chuckle here and there. He needed to find a way to end this, and quickly, at that. She may be more skilled with a blade, but he had the advantage when it came to size. If he could wear her down, tire her out, he might find the advantage he needed.

In fact, Falco was certain she must be tiring. Why else would she not have taken advantage of his pause to come at him? Falco noticed she no longer appeared to hold the sword quite as high as she had before, and he took that opportunity to charge in and rain blows down on her in a brutal onslaught, but the girl continued to block and parry. Falco realized with glee that she was backing away from him with a posture that was mostly defensive.

Dearra sidestepped and was able to deflect each move Falco made. Though it was true his attack lacked finesse, it was no less effective. After another ten minutes of their deadly dance, she had to admit she was beginning to tire, but Falco continue to strike at her relentlessly.

Each time she brought Brin up in defense, her arms trembled more from exertion. She was going to lose. She knew she couldn’t withstand much more of this. If she died, there would be nothing to stop the Breken lord from killing Darius, too, but if she surrendered, maybe, just maybe, she could bargain for their lives.

Throwing her arms wide she screamed her submission: “Enough! Spare us and I will yield!”

Darius ceased in his struggles against the guards holding him and froze. Dearra surrender? If he hadn’t heard it himself, he would have never believed it.

Lord Falco had begun to pant slightly, though he did his best to try to conceal if from those who were watching. He was greatly relieved at her surrender, more than he would like to admit. Maj witch or not, the girl had skill, even though he wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or disturbed by it. Were all of their females so capable? If his plans for the future were to succeed, he would have to further investigate to know exactly what he could expect from these people.

But now was not the time. He needed to do all he could to save face and reaffirm strength and control over his people. He, more than most in his position, understood the tenuous situation he was in. Power was a fickle mistress. What had taken him a lifetime to gain might easily be relinquished in a moment of perceived weakness.  

“Why should I not just kill you and take what is mine?” he asked, feigning amusement for the crowd.

Speaking so softly that Falco had to step closer to hear, Dearra said, “You will win, I accept that, but I can go on for a while yet. How much more can your pride take? Or do you wish to be further humiliated by a woman? Spare us and you can pretend this was your plan all along, and that you merely toyed with me for everyone’s amusement. Kill me and your people will always wonder why you took so long to do it.”

Falco chanced a wary look into the stands and saw many of the people whispering to one another, and quite a few who wore smug smiles plastered on their faces. He marked a few of those faces in his mind, intending to deal with them later.

He turned to Dearra and accepted her offer saying, “It was always my intention to spare you. The silver you will bring to my pocket will strengthen us and bring glory to us all!” Falco paused long enough for the crowd to cheer his wisdom. “Now, my dear, the sword, if you please.”

Dearra drew a haggard breath and drove the blade deep into the sand in front of her before stepping back.

Unable to hide his avarice, Falco beamed a smile of triumph as he closed his hand around the magnificent hilt. A hiss sounded plainly, and an ominous wisp of smoke wafted from his closed hand, but Falco did not release his grip.
Hear me, Brin’du Drak’Tir,
he thought
. Submit to me or they die. You have a new master now.

The blade cooled beneath his touch but only enough so that, though it was still uncomfortably hot, it no longer burned, the only act of defiance the sword could manage after the magic it had so recently performed.

Falco raised the blade straight above his head and allowed wave after wave of cheering, loud stomping, and calls of “Falco…Falco…Falco…” to wash over him in this, his greatest moment of triumph.

“Take the girl to my home and see to her
comfort
.” A round of amused laughter raced around the arena as they all imagined the extent of Falco’s hospitality.

“Wait! What about Darius? I said I would yield if you spared us
both
!”

“I have decided to revise the terms, witch. You, I can ransom, but Darius will bring neither silver nor honor. I feel badly about that, truly I do. Had it not been for the dishonor to my most beloved child, I could, perhaps, be persuaded to spare the boy. I’m not heartless, after all.

“Darius was to take his final oath to my daughter, but he has cast her aside for a foreigner. He has dishonored her. Breken law says he must pay the price for his betrayal. Unless, of course, Darius can provide just cause for his actions?” Falco knew there would be no reason the boy could come up with that would save his neck, but he felt sure that hearing the boy beg for his life would be a more than amusing way to cap the day.

Darius shrugged free of his captors and stepped forward to speak. “Good people of Darak! Most excellent and honored lords! I have strayed!”

The Breken were almost salivating. This was the best entertainment they had had in years. The round of hisses and insults thrown only served to add flavor to the drama as it unfolded before them.

“I was raised in this fine and noble city. I have trained many of the young sons of the noble houses myself! I, more than anyone, appreciate the opportunities and honor I was granted at your gracious will, for who is greater than the people of Darak?”

The taunts and jeers subsided, replaced by a few shouts of approval and agreement.

“I owe you all more than I can ever repay! There are no finer, proud, fierce and noble warriors anywhere! Our word is our bond is it not? For what are we if not honorable?”

“True! True!” the Breken crowd cheered as one.

“So, I ask you, most noble Breken, how could I dishonor myself when that dishonor would be a blight on the name of all Breken? How could I take a woman who had betrayed me with another? Though to do so might make my life easier, would it not diminish the name of Breken?”

The silence that followed was deafening until Mili screeched her denial. “Lies! I am a true daughter of House Falco! No one has touched me!”

“You dare to accuse my daughter?” Falco said with indignation. Though he knew the wench had probably been with half his guard by the time she was sixteen, she had been wise enough to keep that secret very well, and if a few of the men might have thought to use her indiscretions to their advantage, and had gone missing, it was no great loss, so long as she cleaned up her own messes.