Oathkeeper (43 page)

We should attack, kholster Rae'en
, Glayne thought.
Vander is barely conscious and—

Glayne, you are relieved of your duties as Prime Overwatch
, Rae'en thought.
Thank you for standing in, and I may need you to resume that function very soon, but I need answers right now, not arguments.

I . . .
Glayne thought back, his stung ego clear in his thoughts, but he was just as shocked at the way he'd responded to his kholster as he was embarrassed by being replaced.
I apologize, kholster.

Apology accepted
, Rae'en thought back.
Now gather up your soul-bonded weapons and get ready to use them. I'm going to need you in top fighting form faster than I think will allow you the time to collect them all.

She watched Glayne's thoughts for a response to that and was glad to see him leap at the challenge. He was a good soldier, and it wasn't as if any Aern other than her Overwatches would have any idea what had happened . . . and even then, she had a perfectly acceptable excuse for Glayne to hide behind, if he chose to use it.

Amber!
Rae'en thought hard.
I'm rotating Glayne out of the Prime slot because I need a different perspective on this and I need it now.

I think we should retreat to Fort Sunder
, Amber answered.
All the warsuits who aren't here or there already are on their way to one of the two places. We'll pull back and let the Oathbreakers handle the Zaur. Port Ammond is their city.

Noted.
Rae'en turned to Bloodmane and waved him over.
Can we move Vander?

As Amber delivered the bad news, Rae'en pulled off her glove and placed a bare palm on Bloodmane's chest. When Kholster had touched Bloodmane's surface upon their reunion after six hundred years of exile, their fundamental differences in opinion over the fate of the Oathbreakers had caused a physical wound. But now, only a handful of days later, Rae'en's hand did not burn, did not blister as her father's had. Did this mean she had forgiven the Oathbreakers, or was it evidence Bloodmane had come to accept what must be done? Either way . . . no burn.

Are you up to being worn?
Rae'en thought.

Yes.

Do you mind being worn by me?

I would be honored. You are my rightful occupant.

King Rivvek bit his lip when Bloodmane turned and split open at the back. Rae'en stepped forward and was enveloped, Bloodmane's senses and hers becoming one. If being Armored had made her feel strong and powerful, being physically one with Bloodmane brought with it a sensation of unadulterated invincibility.

Rae'en had already been wearing Wylant's bridal armor when she stepped within the warsuit, but she couldn't feel it.

How di—?

A moment, kholster,
Bloodmane sent.
I am still adjusting.

Rae'en felt a sense of inner movement as if her skin were simultaneously being stretched and shrunk. She felt trapped, unable to move; she was suffocating and then . . .

All is well, kholster Rae'en,
the armor told her, and she could breathe again.
Try to move now, please.

She rubbed the fingers of Bloodmane's gauntlets together, and it felt like skin on skin. When she breathed, Rae'en felt her nostrils flaring, the slight movement of air across her philtrum as if her face were completely uncovered.

Will it feel that way every time? Rae'en asked.

The discomfort? No.
Bloodmane's thoughts were colored with shades of amusement and traces of sorrow.
You are your father's daughter, but you are not his physical duplicate. Adjustments were required. I have made them.

How different do you look?

Fractionally smaller with slight proportional differences. Do not worry. I am quite recognizable.

But you're okay
? Rae'en asked.
I didn't even think about—

Bloodmane laughed.
It was nothing compared to the dismay I felt the first time your father decided he wanted to take off my helmet. At the time, I was not designed to allow it.

How many Armored can wear their warsuits now?
She thought, and the answer came to her. She knew the information originated from Bloodmane, but this wasn't like a conversation—it was as though there were no difference between them, as if Bloodmane were subsumed by her. The lack of an all-out war against the Oathbreakers, combined with the death of Armored and the threat to the remainder, had worked a fundamental change.

This was what Kholster's death had bought the Aern: freedom from their old oaths and the return of their warsuits.

Bloodmane's mind sank deeper and deeper within her as if he were willing to allow all that he had become to fade so that she could—

No!
Rae'en thought.
If it is okay with you, unless we're in battle and don't have time, talk to me. We know you are your own people now. Kholster would have never wanted me to endanger or belittle that.

I am never belittled by my rightful occupant, Rae'en.
Love and a fierce desire to protect and aid coursed from Bloodmane to Rae'en, and she understood why the Armored referred to the warsuits as their true skins.
If you learn nothing more of me, please, know that.

Rae'en turned her mind to Amber and saw through her eyes.

*

“—wants to know what you think?” Amber asked.

“I think . . .” Vander licked his lips, his tongue sandpaper, his breath coming in shallow wheezes. All around him, worried faces looked on. The Oathbreaker healer had gone away when Glinfolgo had started stitching him up—stitches! Vander could not believe he'd needed such things—but Amber and Feagus had not gone anywhere, even though now he could see that they wanted to. “I think . . .” He tried to find his train of thought, but it was hard to focus when he was cold.

Since when did an Armored shiver?

“Since you got stabbed by a piece of the Life Forge,” he whispered to himself.

But I didn't have to whisper to keep my thoughts to myself, did I?
Vander thought.
Hello! Hello!

Blue light from Glinfolgo's floating pyramid of runestones shined in his eyes, but Glinfolgo's attention turned elsewhere. Still bent over at Vander's side, the Dwarf's thoughts and mind were otherwise occupied.

Did those green-lensed goggles let Glinfolgo see somewhere else?
Vandal wondered. Dwarves had little flying spies, like dragonflies with round shiny faces they could look through in some fashion.

“I think we should ask Glin what he's seeing in those Reading Glasses of his,” Vander said. “Are they connected to a Dwarven Scrystone or dragonspy?”

“Just a little bit closer,” the Dwarf spoke slowly, his voice tense with concentration. “Drat! I can't get it to respond!”

“What to respond?”

“The dragonspy!” Glin growled. “I set things up so, if the warehouse were to become compromised, I could ignite the junpowder and destroy the lot, but one of those cursed Zaur knocked it out of the air, before I could set off the first Hearth Stone!”

“How many Zaur would that kill?” Amber asked.

Good
, Vander thought,
we're hunting along the same path there. Amber, Feagus, and Glayne could sort it all out.
He closed his eyes and stared at the black, listening to fluttered beats of his own heart.

Kholster?
he thought, and not at kholster Rae'en, but at his best friend, Kholster the death god with a capital “K.”

Nothing.

Kholster, please answer me.

“Yes, Overwatch?”

*

“King Rivvek, Port Ammond is now under attack by an immense force of Zaur,” Rae'en Bloodmane said, her voice sounding much sterner and more commanding when it came from behind Bloodmane's faceplate. Rivvek could not decide exactly how it worked. The armor had obviously been too large for her, yet it moved as if she were comfortable within. Was Bloodmane shorter? It had seemed to ripple for a moment. . . . “Glinfolgo attempted to destroy the warehouse full of junpowder he unloaded from our ships, but the attempt failed. We have decided to regroup at Fort Sunder. Will the Aiannai accompany the Aern?”

Great Aldo
, Rivvek swore.
What a cavalier way to tell a king he's lost his capital city and you don't intend to help him keep it.

“Will the Aern allow . . .” Rivvek began asking the question before he even knew what he was going to ask. He knew he had to make a request quickly, to use the moment to gain whatever aid he could from the Aern, but . . . it came to him. “Will the Aern allow the Eldrennai who have yet to be properly . . . sorted . . . and those who have agreed to my rescue mission . . . to accompany them to Fort Sunder along with the Aiannai?”

“As many of them as you can evacuate, but I don't see how you will mobilize them in time,” Rae'en said. “How many Port Gates do you have left? And can we even use them without—”

“No, we can't use them here, the Ghaiattri are still paying too much attention, but if you would grant us access to the Port Gate at Fort Sunder—”

Hollis cleared his throat rather loudly.

Hasimak shot him a warning look, one Rivvek remembered well from his own time studying with the elder elemancer.

“You would interject, Sea Lord?” Rivvek asked.

“He would not deign to bother the king,” Hasimak offered calmly. “Perhaps he requires a cup of
jallek
root tea.”

“Hollis?” Rivvek asked, but the Sea Lord gave a careful shake of his head.

“My apologies, kholster Rae'en, you were say—”

Ferris and Klerris cleared their throats in unison, the twin Elementalists looking directly at Hasimak, eyes full of a message Rivvek could not decipher.

“Three cups of tea seem to be required.” Smiling sweetly as if chastising a pet he knew could learn nothing from shouting, Hasimak spoke softly. “Perhaps I should go and fetch a pot. Would you or kholster Rae'en require anything, Highness?”

“He's a new king, teacher,” the Stone Lord pleaded. “Ask him. Tell him.”

“It is unseemly.” Hasimak's voice came soft and musical as always, but he observed the Geomancer with eyes half-lidded. A smile touched those eyes, but it was a false one, born of fondness for the individual, not for his actions. It was a tricky smile. If Rivvek had not made such a study of Hasimak's behavior in court in preparation for the Test of Four manipulation he would have missed it, but . . .

“You have advice, High Elementalist?” Rivvek asked, a hint of amusement in his voice mixed with equal parts curiosity. On the one hand, the timing was abominable . . . but in a different light who knew what color it might be. . . . These were the four who had sold the lives of the many to secure a future for their children. They had kept their king's secrets before he had truly become their king, and if any of the four of them had wanted to do so, they could have bogged the whole thing down in a civil war . . . so, mindful of the sounds of fighting just beginning to be heard from the docks, Rivvek paused to consider.

“No, Your Highness,” Hasimak answered. “Another time, perhaps, when it suits the king to grant an old elf a private audience.”

“There may not be time for that, Hasimak,” Rivvek pressed.

“As you say, Highness.”

“I mean ever.”

“I understand, sire.” Hasimak bowed low. “I will not press the matter.”

“No,” Rivvek breathed. “I do not believe you do understand. There may be no private audience because some or all of us may die escaping Port Ammond, but I believe I know my four Elemental Nobles at least well enough to know that if they would pause in the midst of an invasion to draw you out into the open about whatever this . . . is . . . it must be of grave import.”

Especially since I know they were prepared to kill me if I ordered Sargus to execute you back in the throne room.

“It is a delicate matter.” Hasimak dropped to his knees. “I pray let it wait until some distant day when—”

“Ask permission to defend the kingdom with your magic, Teacher,” the Stone Lord growled. “I have promised not to raise the other matter. We all have, but at least—”

“I will never ask permission to use magic beyond the scope of educating my students or advising the king or his forces as required.” Hasimak sighed. “The Aern are not the only ones with promises to keep or who take them as a mortal matter.”

“You require permission to defend the kingdom?” Rae'en asked.

Hasimak remained tight-lipped and silent.

“Answer her, please,” Rivvek said.

“Is this a royal command?” Hasimak asked.

“Must it be—yes.” Rivvek shifted direction. “It is a royal command.”

“And is this command meant as capital punishment, or does it supersede other relevant commands?” Hasimak's eyes were wary, cautious.

“Should it?”

“That is a question I cannot answer, sire.”

“Who placed you under such restrictions, Hasimak?”

“Nor can I answer that question, at present,” Hasimak trilled. “But it is a silly matter. Let us put it out of our heads. Why don't I show you an interesting bit of magic instead?” The elder elf waved the conversation away with his hand as if it were an errant puppy. “Even with your . . . noted . . . challenges in the field of elemental magic, I believe we could, if Sire were willing, help you master the ability now available to you. Would you like that?”

“He's spellsworn,” Rae'en shouted, aiming an accusing gauntlet at Hasimak, “and he's been ordered not to reveal it, to lie about it if he has to do so!”

“Nonsense.” Hasimak laughed. “I did not want to answer in front of the Aern, true, but it is a matter of Royal Secrets and of little interest in the middle of our current crises, so I'm sure—”