“What should we do?” Jane whispered to Blaise.
Blaise lifted his face. He seemed to be sniffing the air. He looked back at the ground and bent over to peer closely at the dirt. Finally he whispered, “There are new tracks heading west. I can smell blood.”
Jane shivered.
They crept around the outside of the camp, past the tree that Blaise had climbed, and to the path that continued on the other side of the clearing.
“Do you know where he is?” Jane asked, once they were out of earshot.
“He must have got away. They have followed him out of the camp, and off to the west.”
Jane and Blaise rode their horses at a quick trot down the path. Jane’s heart faltered suddenly when a big black shadow loomed from the trees in front of them. It was Nuitdor.
She took a breath of relief and reached over from her horse to pat Nuitdor’s nose fondly. Fern’s horse turned and led them back into the jungle, drawing them towards something barely visible—a crumpled figure on the ground.
Jane jumped from her horse and stumbled twice as she ran to Fern. Kneeling at his side, she saw a deep wound in his side. Blood pooled around him.
A second wound in his shoulder had been ripped open again, and it oozed blood.
His breathing was shallow and fast, and Jane worked quickly to stem the flow of blood, ripping material from her shirt to tie around his wounds.
“Blaise, help me,” she hissed over her shoulder, and he hastened into action. They struggled to lift Fern onto his horse, but Nuitdor knelt to help them, and did not let him fall.
It was noon the next day before they arrived back at the temple of the priests. They took Fern inside, still on his horse. A grey-robed priest gave a screech of dismay at the sight of the big animal in the temple.
“Get it out!” he shrieked, flapping his hands at the horse.
“Please, we need your help. This man is dying, he needs a bed, and someone to heal him,” said Jane.
“No!” the man thundered. “I shall not help those who would be so disrespectful as to bring a horse into the temple!”
“Be quiet you old fool!” Blaise snarled.
It silenced the priest for a moment, but then he said, “No. I cannot help you.”
Jane stepped forward and slowly drew her sword from its scabbard. She pointed the tip at the priest’s throat, then looked into the man’s frightened eyes. Jane’s face paled and her sword clattered to the ground. She took a step back. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. He’s dying, and there’s no one else who can help us. You’re his last hope.”
The priest looked at Jane for a moment, then gave a quick nod and motioned for them to follow as he made his way through the back of the temple, finally coming to a small room with a bed. He looked at the horse again but said nothing. Blaise carefully lifted Fern onto the bed and stood back.
“I’m trained in healing, but do not know if I can assist with wounds such as these,” the priest said.
She looked at Blaise. “Do you have any idea what to do?”
He frowned. “I know you have to clean the wounds and sew them up, but I’ve never done anything like it before. ” He looked at the priest and said, “You are our best chance.”
The man looked at Fern’s ragged body and sighed. “I’ll need tools—hot water, and lots of cloth.” He left the room and returned a few moments later with the items.
The priest laid the tools down and inspected them.
It was a set of old, slightly discoloured, silver surgical tools and she looked at them in horror. “Is this it?” she exclaimed.
“We could go to the Amazonian training camp, but he may not last that long,” said Blaise.
The priest frowned. “They’re all we’ve got. Let’s just hope they don’t make him worse.”
The priest took a deep breath and began the task. Jane sat by his side, handing him whatever he needed and wiping away the blood as it poured out of Fern.
Blaise slipped out and returned with bad news. “The ship has gone,” he said flatly. Jane closed her eyes. She had known it would have to leave, but she had selfishly hoped they would have waited just a little bit longer for her.
For hours they worked. It was so much harder, and so much bigger than anything Jane had done before. Finally the priest straightened for the first time and looked down at Fern’s wounds, which were stitched and cleaned.
“What now?” Jane asked, her voice haggard with exhaustion.
“It’s just a matter of waiting now,” said the priest. “I need to rest. You should do so too—you have done well.”
“Thank you,” Jane said to him, her voice choking up with gratitude. “I’m truly grateful.”
Once the priest had left the room, she turned back to Fern.
“Jane, you must rest,” Blaise said quietly from behind her, emotion thickening his accent. “There is nothing more you can do for him.”
Jane was reluctant to leave but Blaise insisted that she go to bed, where she fell into a deep, deep sleep, wracked with dreams of sorrow.
Chapter 25
Elixia bent over the man’s body. He didn’t move. There was a gaping wound in his side. The Queen of Uns Lapodis then felt her body go stiff and her eyes roll back in her head as she left her body, went from the world of the living, and caught the man’s soul before it was grasped by Ares at the gates of the underworld. Using the gift her mother had passed to her, she grasped his soul and brought it back into the body lying before her. The man opened his eyes and Elixia woke from her dream with a start.
It took her a moment to realise that the dream had not been real, and that the unknown stranger had actually been her brother. She shivered and pulled the bed covers up around her.
She’d had many dreams like this before, and she had been dealing with them since she was a young child. She climbed out of her bed and silently donned her riding clothes. It did not take her long to get down to the stables and sneak a horse out past the sleeping stable hand.
She raced through the hills for hours, not returning home until the sun began to rise.
“Where have you been?” Columba shrieked as Elixia shook the dust from her clothes.
“I went for a ride, my lady. I did not know it wasn’t permitted.”
“You are a queen now. You cannot go gallivanting around all night. You have responsibilities.”
“Do not say anything more,” Elixia said. “You are right. I am Queen.”
Before Columba could respond, Elixia turned on her heel and walked to her room. She was surprised to see Accolon waiting on her balcony. He rarely came to her room.
“Good morning, Elixia,” he spoke without turning to face her.
“Good morning, Accolon. Has there been any word of their return?” She asked this question every day, but each time she received the same answer.
“I am afraid not. There’s not long now,” he sighed.
She needed no telling of this. She had been counting the days until she would see The Book of the Dead. It frightened her. The power within its pages was unchecked for those who knew how to wield it. “What brings you here at this hour?” She had stopped using formalities with him for he corrected her every time she did.
Accolon still did not turn to her, but asked, “Would you prefer that I left?”
“Oh no, I was just curious. You don’t usually visit me in my room.”
“I came to inform you of the carnival.”
“A carnival?” Elixia asked. “Why are you having a carnival now, in the middle of war preparations?”
“We have one each year as a follow up to Beltane.”
“Surely you must cancel, there is no time!”
“The people need to feel everything is normal. They must not be panicked.”
“You are right,” she said finally.
“You cannot be expected to know everything about my kingdom. You are so young...”
In the silence that followed, Accolo
n finally turned his gaze to her, and said, “What is it that you fear most?”
Elixia blinked, taken aback. The answer was on her tongue straight away, but she hesitated. “For the walls to close in around me.”
He turned away again. “She is as good as dead,” he said.
It took Elixia a moment to realise that he was talking about Satine, but by then he had already left the room.
Elixia ate breakfast alone in the big dining hall. She was restless, and in no hurry to go back to her room, so took the long route through the castle corridors. When she came to the east wing of the palace something stopped her. She had not been here before. This was where Columba slept.
The door to Columba’s room was shut, but Elixia heard voices. Curiosity overpowered her, and she crept silently to the door to listen.
“...not enough time,” Columba said.
Elixia crept closer.
“No, there is not. They will never make it, the fools.” A male voice, deep and menacing. “...surely perish.”
“Don’t be a fool yourself. If they do not make it back, then Blaise will be absent and we will have to hire someone else.”
“That’s possible, surely?” the man asked.
“Nobody is as good as Blaise, and we cannot afford to not be successful or we shall be punished beyond measure.” Then Elixia heard footsteps, as one of them crossed the room and sank into a chair.
“The girl is not cooperating,” Columba sighed.
“How do you mean?”
“She has been very short with me. I’d say she knows I am trying to control her. She just doesn’t know why, and to what extent.”
“You can’t let her know.”
“I know that, you imbecile. She’s a lot smarter than I had expected. We must be careful.”
Elixia’s eyes widened as she listened.
“I want you to find Blaise’s replacement. We cannot take any chances.”
“Of course.”
“Before you leave, how is your task coming along?” Columba asked.
“Perfectly. I could not have asked for more of a fool to manipulate.”
Elixia heard footsteps approach the door. She ran down the corridor, all the way to her room, and slammed the door. Then she walked out to her balcony and looked down at the gardens below. There were so many unanswered questions. She had always known there was something evil inside Columba. Now she had to prove it.
Chapter 26
Liam arrived home in Tirana three days after he left Amalia and the war council, which gave him less than a month to raise an army. Sasteem had come to the dock to greet him. The brothers did not embrace, but touched palms. They rode together through the windy dunes towards the tribe. The Kabduh were a nomadic people, never staying in one place for long. Rarely were there any visitors to Tirana as there was no town or city, only the roaming tribes, and now there were only twenty-seven in all.
There had once been over three hundred different tribes, but that was many years ago. Since then, the tribes had combined to make fewer, larger tribes.
Liam was greeted with quiet joy by his family. So too, was his news. The Kabduh were a race of warriors. They lived to fight. The women would stay to look after the few surviving children, but every male would gladly answer the call of the emperor.
They were ready before the deadline. They worked fast and efficiently to be ready for war, packing up their camp and readying their weapons. Without much of a farewell, the Kabduh readied themselves at the docks, waiting to set sail for Lapis Matyr.
***
Blaise was known for his stealth and secrecy, but this had rattled him. He had lived his life in Uns Lapodis, his identity a secret. But the meeting of his cousin, the prince, had thrust him straight back into reality. He could not escape his past, no matter how hard he tried.
Once, long ago, he had been respected. A man who had commanded power and knowledge; a man who people had listened to. He’d had a family once.
They had been killed. It was why he was here, far from his people in an act that most thought to be a statement of defiance. It wasn’t a statement. Instead, it was his absolute sorrow at what had happened, and his inability to stay.
As far as he knew, Fern had no idea of his true identity. The boy had been too young when they first met. Meeting him now had made him proud beyond belief. His cousin was a far better prince than he would ever be. Or ever was.
“Blaise!”
The name broke into his thoughts, and he looked over to see Jane staring at him.
“I said, can you please pass the scalpel? The priest needs it.” She was understandably irritated and tired. He hurried to pass the scalpel to the man and watched him get back to work on the body. He was worried about Jane. She sat there watching like a maniac, never sleeping, never eating. But then, she did love him, and he knew how that felt. Knew what it was like to lose people you loved. A wife, and a daughter, in fact.
Blaise tried to focus on something else—on Jane. As he watched, she wiped a tendril of sweaty hair from her face and bit her lip, all the time watching Fern’s face. There was a look in her eyes that was so determined and so strong that Blaise had to wonder how she could cope so well. Blaise made a decision then that he would be there for her if this didn’t work.
Even after everything had been forsaken, and he had resigned himself to a colourless life, a grey life, without any thoughts for new feelings, he could still be shocked and surprised by the beauty the world could hold. It was right here for him to see in the unfailing devotion of this woman.
Blaise walked out onto the beach and stared at the water. After a moment he drew his sword and began to fight invisible foes. Thrust forward, parry, focus on the footwork, twist away.
“Would you like a sparring partner?” a voice called from behind him.
Blaise wheeled around to see Faraia, the young Amazonian woman standing outside the temple.
Faraia came down onto the sand and they fought, lightly at first—Blaise didn’t want to hurt her. Then, when she asked him not to insult her, he fought harder. She was good, but he was the lost Elvish prince. She could not beat him if her life depended on it.
“Thank you,” he said at the conclusion of their fight.
She bowed to him, and they walked into the temple.
“You have seen him,” Blaise stated and she nodded. “Could you have healed him better at the fortress?” he asked her.
She nodded again.
Blaise grimaced. “Will he live?” He had to wait for a moment before he saw the slow shake of her head.
***
Jane had been sleeping for an hour when the vision came to her. A magnificently beautiful woman. And there was something familiar about her—she was like the mermaid. They had the same eyes.
“He fades, Jane,” the woman said, and Jane was struck by the urgency in her tone. “You are the only thing that holds him to life. Bring him back.”
“How?” Jane called out to her, but she had already gone.
Jane snapped awake. She leapt from the bed and ran barefoot to the room where Fern was sleeping. His skin was pale and clammy, and his breathing shallow. Blaise and Faraia were sitting in the corner of the room watching her curiously.
“How do I pull him back?” she hissed.
She felt his hand grow cold, and his pulse fade away. A last breath escaped his lips, and then he was still.
“No!” Jane cried, and her tears spilled onto his handsome face.
In a burst of panic, Jane leaned over him and gently kissed his lips. Then, with all her will, and with every breath of longing she possessed, she called to him.
“Fern!” she whispered. “Come back. Don’t leave me.” Her hand tightened around his. “Please!” When begging didn’t work, she ordered him.
“Fern!” she yelled. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him roughly. “You can’t leave me! I won’t let you!” Jane opened her heart and mind for him to feel, and she screamed at him within her mind as well as wit
h her voice, willing him to hear her. It was a hopeless act, she knew, a call flung into the air between them, but she had to try.
He didn’t move.
Jane collapsed on his chest, sobbing violently. The woman had been wrong. She couldn’t save him. She was going to have to live without him. Her crying echoed through the room.
“Jane...”
Fern’s eyes were tired and filled with pain, but they were open.
Jane grabbed him in a tight embrace. He groaned in pain and she straightened up, realising that she had been lying on his wound. Her tears fell all over his face again, and this made him smile.
“Don’t cry. What’s the matter?” he asked.
“What’s wrong? You died! That’s what’s wrong!”
He lifted his arms slightly and weakly enveloped her. They lay together for a long time, her tears staining the blanket over him.
“Fern,” she whispered, trying desperately, once again, to savour the feeling of him. “Don’t do that again.”
Chapter 27
The morning after her arrival, Satine woke from a restless sleep. Nightmares had her sweating and tossing all night. Exhausted, she sat up in bed and looked around her old room. Everything was exactly as she’d left it. The mirror above her dressing table showed a face that was pale and tired.
She quickly pulled on a tunic that was hanging in the cupboard and slipped on some sandals. She attempted to braid her hair, but only succeeded in tangling it into knots. She sighed and looked around for a comb, then sat down to the arduous task of unknotting her long hair. It took a good twenty minutes. She looked through a wooden chest and found golden jewellery—a delicate necklace, some armbands and a circlet to sit on her brow. It would at least hold the hair off her face. Finally, when she looked half decent, Satine left her room.
Her footsteps clacked through the silent halls as she walked slowly to the door of Liessen’s chamber. Taking a deep breath, she knocked. It took a long time, but finally it swung open. Satine found herself staring at an older version of herself. But this woman was hunched over with the constant weight of carrying around her sorrow.