Harbinger: Fate's Forsaken: Book One (56 page)

Oh yes, he had
them
precisely
where he wanted them.
The news of his victory would reach Midlan by tomorrow morning, and Crevan
would have no choice but to set him up above all the other rulers. He might
even strip the mountains from that dog, Titus, and hand them over as a gift.

But Reginald
wasn’t finished. News was good, but spectacle would be even better. A little
intrigue might keep the tale fresh for months. “So, hunter,” he turned back to
the young man, “if what you say is true and the Dragongirl really
is
under your control, you’ll have no
problem proving it.”

Amid the next
wave of whispers, the young man raised his brows. “Prove it how, Sir Duke?”

“Strike her.”

Women gasped,
men murmured — but the young man didn’t seem at all concerned.
“Considering all the trouble she caused, don’t you think the King would rather
do the bruising himself?”

The crowd
laughed. That mountain boy had a good point.

Reginald forced
himself to smile and thought quickly. “I see … well if you won’t hit her, I
suppose there is another way you might win us over. I think the good people of
the seas want some proof.” They cheered, and Reginald raised a fist to quiet
them. “So if you won’t strike her … then I suppose you’ll have to kiss her.”

*******

The word echoed
in Kael’s ear. Heat singed his face as the ladies in the crowd started to
giggle. He could feel their eyes on him, feel them craning and leaning forward
for a better look. He could hear the clink of armor as the guards on the second
floor shifted their weight. He could feel their eyes boring into the top of his
skull.

“Go on, give her
a kiss!” someone — a very drunk someone, by the sound of it —
shouted. Nevertheless, his cry brought on a murmur of agreement from the rest
of the crowd. They wanted to see some proof.

But Kael’s limbs
seized up under the pressure. All he could feel were the tips of his fingers,
and they flexed involuntarily for the knives at his arm. He could do it, he
knew he could. The Duke was pacing right in front of him, grinning as he egged
the crowd on. If he wanted to, he could throw the knife and end it all right
now.

They’d probably
even make it out alive.

Then a movement
caught the corner of his eye. A short, pale-faced servant squeezed his way to
the front of the crowd. The people he pushed through looked annoyed at first,
but soon seemed to forget he was even there. Geist had a tray balanced on his
palm and one hand clamped smartly behind his back. He met Kael’s eyes, and his
face was about as encouraging as stone.

Yet, he was a
firm reminder of all the people who were depending on him. If he killed the
Duke, war would ensue. There would be a mad dash for his empty throne and
oceans of innocent blood would be shed. Nothing would stop the army of Midlan
from marching through the seas, burning and killing to punish in the name of
the King.

And though he
knew it would ruin him, Kael could not trade his feelings for lives. He would
do what must be done.

“All right,” he
declared, and the room broke out in cheers. He turned to Kyleigh, careful to
avoid her eyes. “Come here, girl.” He tugged sharply on her chains and she
stumbled forward. He caught her with an arm around her waist and quickly stuck
his lips to hers.

His whole body
ignited. Fire raced through his veins and filled his ears. He wrestled with it,
tried to pull himself out of the flames … but in the end, it consumed him.

He was helpless,
like a child caught in the flow of a savage river. Heat washed over him and
dragged him down into a place where he thought he couldn’t breathe. There was
no air, no beating of his heart — there was only the feel of her lips on
his. She was holding him by a thread. He was completely at her mercy. And when
she pushed back against him, he very nearly drowned.

At long last,
she set him free. He was relieved — and then the second she pulled away,
pain ripped at his chest. There was nothing but a bloody hole left: a raw gap
of torn muscles and shattered bone. He could feel the agony stabbing in his
teeth. It made him want to scream. He grabbed his chest, expecting his hand to
slip through and touch his spine … but it didn’t. He met the rough threads of
his shirt and gripped them in disbelief.

Remarkably, he
was whole.

“Bra
vo
!”

Duke Reginald
led the round of applause that snuffed the last smoldering embers in his blood.
He took a very shaky bow and while his head was bent, he wiped the cold beads
of sweat off his face with the back of his sleeve.

“Excellent work,
hunter. I’m thoroughly convinced.” Reginald clapped his hands together sharply
and a steward pushed his way out of the crowd. He handed Reginald a large sack,
which he proceeded to toss at Kael’s feet. “There’s your reward. Now leave.”

Kael bowed and
stepped to the side as Reginald snatched the chains out of his hand.

“Ladies and
managers, I give you the Dragongirl,” he said, jerking Kyleigh forward. “What a
grand victory for the High Seas! Where all the other regions failed,
we
have triumphed.”

The people
cheered and raised their goblets to the Duke: as if he was the one who’d
singlehandedly captured the King’s most hated enemy. And more than likely,
that’s how the story would have been told. But Kael’s plan told it a little
differently.

He looked at
Kyleigh, and she nodded slightly. Her face was calm — no remnant of his
kiss lingered behind her eyes.
And why
would it have?
he reminded himself. To her, it had all been an act.

The shriek of
metal froze Reginald mid-celebration. Kyleigh wrenched her shackles apart, and
he must have read the open-mouthed shock on his guests’ faces because he tried
to run. But Kyleigh had him pinned to the ground, her knee driven into his
back, before he could even finish screaming:

“Bartimus!”

A burst of red
lightening erupted from Bartimus’s outstretched hand, aimed right for Kyleigh.
It would have struck her and likely killed her, had Kael not been in the way.
In the midst of their triumph, everyone seemed to have forgotten about the boy
from the mountains. And while they’d been occupied, he put himself between the
Duke and his mage.

Now it was
his
chest the lightening struck. The
magic washed over him and tickled horribly, but could not hurt him. He saw the
realization dawn on Bartimus’s face just as the knife left his hand.

“Whis —
gah!” He toppled over, his robes flailing out beside him. He wriggled for a few
moments as he tried to wrench the knife from his chest. Then he lay still.

“Guards!”
Reginald squealed, and Kyleigh put her elbow on his throat.

Screams rang out
across the ballroom, and several ladies fainted, when they saw the rogues that
encircled the banister in place of the Duke’s guards. The pirates had done
well: not a soldier was left alive. They slumped over at their posts, their
heads lolling in pools of their own blood. Every cutlass was stained red.

“People of the
High Seas, do not be alarmed!” Chaucer stepped out of the crowd, followed by a
handful of stony-faced managers, and held up a sealed roll of parchment. “In my
hand is a contract — a writ of resignation. Tonight, I will ask the Duke
to sign his title and his land back over to the people. We have lived under
this tyrant for far too long, and it’s high time that we start making the gold
for ourselves. By morning, we’ll be managers no more — but free merchants
once again!”

Applause started
slowly, nervously, but soon grew to a roar. Managers ripped off their wigs and
stomped on them. Servants dragged their arms over their faces and let the
silver trays fall out of their hands. A few people tucked the gold cutlery into
their pockets and slipped out the door. Lace and frilly coats went flying,
goblets smashed on the floor. All across the room, people shook hands and
grinned to either ear.

It made Kael
sick. Not a moment before, these people had been congratulating the Duke on his
victory. And now they seemed to have completely changed their minds.

A familiar,
high-pitched screech drew Kael’s glare from the revelers and to the musicians’
stage — where Jonathan had somehow managed to weasel his way in. Fiddle
in hand, his bloodied sword hung forgotten at his hip. “I call this
The Duke’s Dirty Underpants
!” he
declared.

The other
musicians hurried to keep up, thrumming their gold-crusted instruments in time
with Jonathan’s fiddle. The guests clapped to the tune and then began a jig.
Several people kicked Reginald in the rump as they skipped by.

Lysander tore
down the stairs right after Jonathan, his hair a wild, gooey mess. He shoved
his way through the crowd and seemed to see no one but Aerilyn. “Are you well?”
he said as he reached her. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? Because by tempest if
he did, I swear I’ll —”

“What?” she
said, hands propped on her hips. “Roast him alive? Hang him from the mast?”

“I was thinking
more along the lines of using him as a figurehead, but I’m certainly open to
suggestions.”

“Oh? Well in
that case, I suggest you kiss me.”

The fury on his
face vanished, replaced very suddenly by shock. “Wait — does this mean
you want to become a pirate?”

She rolled her
eyes, a smile pulling at her lips. “That was the deal, wasn’t it?”

“Well it was,
yes. But I certainly don’t want to force you into anything. I’d still love you
no matter what. I’m sure Uncle Martin would come around to the idea —”

She slapped him
straight across the face. Then she grabbed two fistfuls of his tunic and pulled
him forward. “Shut your mouth and kiss me, you impossible pirate.”

And he did. And
soon the kissing grew so robust that people began to cheer and Kael had to look
away. As he retrieved his knife from Bartimus’s corpse, he noticed a pool of
gold under his hand. Apparently, his impetus melted off when he died. Kael
picked it up and found that it had already hardened into a disk. He tucked it
into his pocket.

“You made a good
decision — nothing breeds war quite like an assassination.”

The statement
came from Geist, who’d somehow materialized at his side. He was the only
servant in the room with his wig still intact.

“Thanks,” Kael
said, and shook the hand he offered.

“What will you
do now?”

He was growing
tired of hearing that question. “Lysander and his men have promised to help me.
I’ve got some … unfinished business, in the mountains.”

Geist’s face was
inscrutable. “Interesting. I actually have a friend who’s headed for the
mountains.”

“Really? Who is
he?”

“That isn’t
important. I only mention it because he seemed rather intent on hiking to the
top of it — where he hoped to meet an enemy who’d stolen something very
dear to him. And I told him it was folly.”

Kael thought he
knew who Geist’s friend was. What he didn’t know was how on earth he could’ve
possibly found out. “Oh? And why is it folly? He’s got an army at his back.”

Geist inclined
his head. “True, though not one nearly large enough. And when I told him as
much, he asked for my advice. Do you know what I said?”

“No. What?”

“I said that
what he was looking for could be found in the Endless Plains,” Geist finished
with a smirk.

Kael was about
to ask for details when Chaucer cut over the top of him. “Come on, boy!” he
barked from halfway up the stairs. He was following Kyleigh as she shoved
Reginald along — with one arm twisted painfully behind his back.

Kael didn’t even
bother bidding Geist farewell. He knew without looking that the man was already
gone.

“You’re a fool,
Chaucer. A bloody, pig-brained fool!” Reginald spat. They had him tied to one
of the guest room chairs, pulled up close to a small desk. The only limb he was
free to move was his right arm.

Chaucer spread
the contract out on the desk and dipped a quill in a fresh well of ink. “I’m
fairly certain anyone who walked in might be inclined to think that the man
strapped to the chair was the fool among us. But what do I know?”

“Nothing,”
Reginald said vehemently, his goatee trembling. “The King is going to destroy
you — all of you! His army will impale your bodies down the coast, he’ll
feed your flesh to his dogs —”

“How?” Chaucer
interrupted. He seemed to be fighting back a smile. “Every man with any ounce
of power saw you sacked tonight. Your resignation will not be sealed in blood,”
he held up the quill, “but in ink. Our business will continue just as it did
before the Five, just as it has for centuries. The King may send his armies but
unless he drains the ocean dry, there’s no way he can catch us without a ship.”

The blood
drained from Reginald’s face, he licked his lips as his eyes flicked nervously
about the room. They roamed from where Chaucer and his fellow merchants stood,
to Kyleigh and Kael. “What will happen to me if I sign your contract?” he said,
not taking his eyes off them. “How do I know you won’t feed me to the whisperer
and his pet once you have my signature? Yes, I know what you are.”

Kael flinched
involuntarily when Reginald spoke. It was stupid: he knew anyone who wasn’t
blind saw the spell strike him and do no harm. Anyone who wasn’t deaf would’ve
heard what Bartimus said with his dying gasp. Even now, he could feel the
merchants shifting their weight, moving from boot to boot as a long moment
passed and he said nothing to deny it.

His secret was
out.

“You’ll be
allowed to live the remainder of your days in peace,” Chaucer said. He pointed
to the neat words a few lines above the space for a signature. “The details are
all right here. No one is going to be eaten. We’re businessmen after all, not
barbarians.”