Bewitched & Betrayed

Chapter 5

When I woke up, Mychael had already gone, and I was determined to be dressed and out of here in half an hour.

I had to find Piaras.

Piaras’s last name was Rivalin, not Benares, and we weren’t related by anyone, anywhere; but I loved the kid like a little brother, so in my book, that made him family.

Family that I knew was near the top of Sarad Nukpana’s kill list.

Piaras needed to know it and I needed to assure myself that he was safe.

I was two steps away from the bed when I remembered that the Reapers had shredded the hell out of my clothes. Damn. Well, I’d help myself to Mychael’s wardrobe. I just needed to get out of here, not make a fashion statement.

Then I spotted a familiar duffel bag leaning against his desk, and the shoulder harness holding my brace of swords was hooked over the back of Mychael’s chair. I grinned. If Mychael had wanted to keep me here, he’d just made a grave tactical error. For the past two weeks, I had been staying on the Fortune, so Phaelan must have sent along a few things, and Mychael had left them for me. An intricate knot tied the canvas bag closed. Definitely Phaelan’s work. He did it to let me know that he’d packed my bag himself, and that the knot was still intact told me Mychael hadn’t gone snooping. Good. If there was one thing my cousin knew how to do, it was pack for a quick getaway—or a jailbreak. No doubt everything I needed to get out of Mychael’s bedroom, his apartment, and the citadel was in that bag. Phaelan liked to be thorough.

I opened the bag. My set of midnight blue leathers was on top: boots, trousers, and doublet. Two shirts were below that, and then the contents got fun: various small and easily concealable weapons, lock picks, and even a small grappling hook and rope. He tossed in the latter I guess in case I felt the need to go over the wall.

I left the grappling hook but took everything else. I had no intention of going over the wall. Piaras was a Guardian cadet; he was in the citadel.

But before I could step one foot into the hallway, I had to negotiate my release with the Guardian on duty at the door.

I knew that would be Vegard.

When I was dressed and armed to my satisfaction, I went to the door and tried the knob. Surprisingly it was unlocked. I opened the door. Not surprisingly, the space on the other side was filled with a big, blond, overprotective Guardian.

“Afternoon, Vegard.”

My bodyguard nodded once. “Ma’am. Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

I glanced down the hall. There were two burly Guardians at the other end. Not an easy escape scenario, but I could get past them if necessary.

I knew the drill. Mychael had ordered Vegard to keep me here. When confronted with familiar tactics, go with the direct approach. If that didn’t work, then I’d come up with something sneaky.

“I’m plenty rested,” I told him. “Where’s Piaras?”

“It’s two bells; he’s finished his morning lessons, so he should be in the gym.” Vegard looked at me with a combination of concern and guilt, but mostly guilt. I knew he felt responsible for what had happened to me. When would everyone accept that my own trouble was my own fault?

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Really.”

His expression was carefully neutral. “I’m glad to hear that, ma’am.”

“Vegard?”

“Ma’am?”

“What happened wasn’t your fault; it was mine. Yes, you’re my bodyguard, but I’m a big girl with a mind of my own . . . a stubborn mind of my own.”

At least that made him smile a little. “Yes, ma’am, you are. You’re also my responsibility, and—”

“Vegard, I—”

“Ma’am, please let me finish.”

I shut up. Yes, it’s possible.

Vegard’s pale blue eyes were steady. “If you had been killed, I would have never forgiven myself. It’s my job to keep you not only alive, but safe. It’s become more than my job.” He clenched his jaw and looked away, but not before I saw a faint glisten in his eyes.

Way to go, Raine. You’re about to make a grown Guardian cry. Maybe I should have taken the grappling hook and gone out the window.

“If someone kills you, they might as well cut a big chunk out of me while they’re at it.” His words came in a rush. “Or hell, just finish me off. I don’t have a sister, but I’d like to think if I did, she’d be like you.”

Oh great, now I was going to cry.

I laid my hand on his forearm. “Okay, Vegard, I’ll make you a deal. At least I’ll try really hard. I can try to stay away from trouble, but trouble’s not going to stay away from me.”

“I know.”

“Actually, trouble’s chasing me right now, a lot of it. Hell, there’s a line.”

“I know that, too. But ma’am?”

“Yes.”

“All I ask is that you let me be at your side when it catches up to you.”

I squeezed his arm and bit my lip against my own case of the misties. Vegard gently covered my hand with his huge paw.

“Deal,” I managed. “If it’s in my control, you’ll be with me. We’ll get slaughtered together.”

He grinned. “A man can’t ask for more than that.”

“Now, which way is the gym?”

The grim Guardian was back in spades. “Oh no, you don’t, ma’am. The boss told me you weren’t supposed to leave this room until he came back.”

“Where is he?”

“Meeting with the archmagus.”

“And when will he be back?”

“Since it’s with the old man there’s no telling.”

“That’s what I thought. Vegard, the gym is in the citadel. Mychael has deemed the citadel safe for me. Isn’t the gym filled with Guardians working out with weapons?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He knew his argument was crumbling faster than a Nebian trader’s morals.

“Then how much safer could I be? I need to talk to Piaras. I’m not the only one in danger.”

The big Guardian sighed in defeat. “Follow me, ma’am.”

I smiled up at him and linked my arm in his. “How about at my side?”

Piaras was a Conclave Guardian cadet. He’d go from cadet to squire, and eventually be knighted as a full Guardian. And from the way he was going, the kid would probably set a speed record for achieving knighthood.

Before the Guardians accepted a young man into the brotherhood for training, they assessed his skills—both martial and magical. They had to have both. When it came to future Guardians, those skills covered a lot of unusual ground.

Piaras Rivalin was a spellsinger, possibly the best of his generation. He’d also apprenticed with his grandmother as an apothecary. Tarsilia had taught him more than mixing poultices. The kid knew the nastier blends—potions, drugs, poisons, and the antidotes to them all. An elven teenager probably wouldn’t need to whip up an antidote on a moment’s notice, but a Guardian just might. And last, but definitely not least, due to being under Sarad Nukpana’s psychic influence a few weeks ago, Piaras also had the full measure of the goblin’s deadly skill with a sword.

Like I said, the kid was on the Guardian fast track.

The Guardian’s gym smelled like sweat and worn leather and steel with the coppery tang of blood thrown in for good measure. It was also hot and noisy.

Piaras was in a fighting ring with a Guardian trainer and looked like he was having the time of his young life.

Piaras had come to apprentice with Tarsilia Rivalin when he was eight years old. Phaelan and I had decided that it just wasn’t right for a kid to spend his days only learning about a bunch of dried plants. Not that that wasn’t a good thing to know, but we felt he needed to know more, especially if he was going to live in Mermeia and, most important, stay alive in Mermeia. Tarsilia agreed. I taught him defense and evasion, and Phaelan took care of offense and confrontation—and we didn’t teach him to fight fair. Piaras was tall and lanky, so if anyone came after him with deadly intentions, the kid better be able to make his first move count or run like hell. I’d made sure he knew that there’s no shame in running, only in being caught.

Considering what had happened to Piaras in the past two months just as a result of knowing me and getting tangled up in my problems, I was all for the Guardians furthering his education in every way possible.

And becoming a Conclave Guardian was the fulfillment of Piaras’s lifelong dream. He couldn’t see himself behind an apothecary counter or singing magical lullabies for some noble’s bratty children. As a Guardian, he felt he could make a difference.

Piaras wasn’t singing right now. He was fighting, the hand-to-hand variety. At eighteen years old, Piaras was plenty tall, but he had some filling out to do.

“How’s he doing?” I asked Vegard.

“There are a few rough spots.” He shrugged. “But we all have our strong points, and our not-so-strong points. Piaras’s should solve themselves once he gets some more weight on him. He’s quick; he’s got that going for him.” He flashed a grin. “If you have to be scrawny, at least be fast.”

I smiled. “Is he eating the Guardians out of house and home?”

Vegard chuckled. “He’s trying, but we haven’t had a cadet succeed yet.”

Piaras spotted me and took his attention off his trainer for a blink of an eye. That was all the time it took for the man to administer an object lesson Piaras wouldn’t soon forget. I winced. One second Piaras was on his feet; the next he was on the mat, flat on his back.

Vegard whistled. “That one’s gonna hurt tomorrow.”

Piaras was slowly picking himself up as we walked over to the ring.

“That was my fault, darlin’,” I told Piaras. “Sorry about that.”

“It was his eyes’ fault for wandering,” the trainer said.

Piaras finished hauling himself to his feet with no help. Made sense. Your enemy sure as hell wasn’t going to help you up on a battlefield or in a back alley.

His trainer spoke without turning to look at him. “Distractions are deadly, Cadet Rivalin.”

Vegard grinned. “It’s not always good to let a beautiful woman catch your eye.”

“Lesson’s over, Piaras,” the trainer told him. “I don’t think the lady’s here just to see you sprawled on your back.”

Piaras took off his head gear, exposing dark, curly hair; though now it was dark, damp, curly hair. The kid had a pair of big brown eyes that could have gotten him any coed on the island. He was taller than me and still growing. Piaras had potential written all over him, and I was going to do everything in my power to make sure we were both alive to see how he turned out.

Piaras took out his mouthpiece, blew some apparently much needed air in and out of his lungs, then tried some words. “Thank you, sir,” he said to his trainer. He looked at me. “You didn’t come just to see me embarrass myself, did you?”

“No, but I’m not opposed to unexpected entertainment.”

Vegard tossed Piaras a towel that was draped over the ring ropes. “Get yourself cleaned up, little brother, and make it quick.”

Piaras looked questioningly from me to Vegard and back again.

“We need to talk,” I told him.

Piaras headed off toward the locker room, and two expressionless Guardians followed him. One remained by the door; the other went in with Piaras. I recognized them both. They’d been Piaras’s shadows since a few days before Sarad Nukpana escaped the Saghred.

Until then, it’d been an accepted fact that the Saghred couldn’t be opened or destroyed. It wouldn’t be the first time or the last that accepted fact turned out to be absolute fiction. A couple of millennia ago, the demons were some of the first to get their collective claws on the Saghred. Realizing there were tasty souls trapped inside, the king of demons ordered that a way be found to open it. The demons not only found a way to open the rock; they forged the means to do it—the Scythe of Nen, a dagger no longer than my hand. The Saghred didn’t like being opened and having its souls slurped out like oysters. The rock slurped back, and the demon king was now a prisoner with the souls he’d been trying to eat.

Two weeks ago, the demon queen came looking for the Saghred and the Scythe of Nen to free her husband. To force me to find the Scythe of Nen first, and free him from the Saghred, Sarad Nukpana invaded Piaras’s dreams, essentially possessing him. That possession plus Nukpana’s sword skills had nearly resulted in Piaras committing a cold-blooded murder. There were men on Mid who were just waiting for the chance to lock Piaras up, and they’d almost gotten their wish.

The two Guardian bodyguards were Mychael’s idea of a preventative measure to keep Sarad Nukpana from getting back into Piaras’s head. Mychael had assured me that Nukpana wouldn’t go after Piaras immediately, if at all, but I felt better that he obviously wasn’t taking any chances.

My expression must have said that I didn’t think two Guardians were enough, regardless of how big and magically talented they were.

“Piaras won’t be leaving the citadel until Sarad Nukpana’s been terminated,” Vegard said. “Every Guardian in the citadel is watching him.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” I told him. “When it comes to revenge, Sarad Nukpana likes the personal touch. But if he can’t get to Piaras himself, he’s perfectly capable of getting someone else to do it for him.” I hesitated. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but Mychael’s already had one Guardian turn traitor. In my experience, traitors are like rats; if you find one, there’s more in a dark corner somewhere.”

Piaras came out a few minutes later wearing his dove gray Guardian cadet uniform, his dark curls now damp from a quick shower. Vegard’s and Piaras’s heavily armed shadows gave us some privacy and we found a quiet corner near a rack of wicked-looking bladed pikes.

“What’s wrong?” Piaras asked point-blank, his large brown eyes solemn.

Like me, Piaras knew that when someone said, “We need to talk,” chances were it wasn’t going to be something you wanted to hear. Until recently, I would have tried to protect him by telling him only as much as he needed to know, no more. Now ignorance was deadly.

I told him everything, leathery corpses and all.

“Are you having any more dreams about Sarad Nukpana?” I asked, once I’d finished.

Piaras knew what I meant. Dreams that Nukpana may have planted in his head, along with any impulses—like murder.

“No. I’ve had a couple of nightmares, but I had those all by myself, no help needed.”

“Your guards know about them?”

Piaras snorted derisively. “Them and every cadet in the barracks.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “But they assure me that I’m screaming like a man, not a girl.”

I cringed inwardly. “That’s always good.” I leaned forward, then stopped myself. It was all I could do not to hug him.

“Hug received,” Piaras whispered.

He’d always blushed before whenever I’d hugged or obviously wanted to hug him. This time he didn’t. That just made me want to hug him more.

“But thanks for not actually doing it in the middle of the gym,” he added quietly.

I had a lump in my throat. “Hey, any one of these men would jump at the chance to have me hug them.”

“Any one of these men doesn’t scream in the middle of the night and wake up half the citadel. Spellsinger pipes are loud.”

“Vegard says you’re restricted to the citadel for the duration.” I didn’t need to say for the duration of what; Piaras knew. When Sarad Nukpana was dead for good, Piaras could set foot outside the citadel’s walls.

Piaras scowled. “All my classes are here right now. Paladin Eiliesor has asked my two other professors to come to the citadel, so I’m getting private tutoring.”

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“Would you be? Locked up here like a . . .” He fumbled for the word that expressed every bit of the frustration and anger he was obviously feeling. “Like a child. And worst of all, every cadet in the barracks knows why—the paladin doesn’t think I can defend myself.”

I could see what had happened as if I’d been there. “I take it the other cadets have been giving you a hard time.”

Piaras’s silence answered my question better than any words.

“I just want to do something,” Piaras blurted. “And that the paladin doesn’t think I’m good enough to—”

“Stop right there. Mychael doesn’t doubt your ability and neither do I. And if any cadets say that you being in the citadel makes you incompetent or a coward, that’s not teasing; that’s jealousy, pure and simple. What you did in that cave under the elven embassy saved every last one of us. That’s public knowledge now. And I don’t know how much more public you could have been when you summoned three rampaging bukas out of thin air to take down those embassy guards who were trying to kill you. And just three weeks ago, you fought at the archmagus’s side and killed I don’t know how many demons.” I stopped, thought, and surmised the source of the problem.

“Those other cadets wouldn’t happen to be highborn elves, would they?”

Piaras hesitated before replying. “Yes.”

That was it, then, or at least a big part of it. Piaras’s parents were merchants in Laerin, and they’d done well for themselves. No blue blood, just good, solid business sense and a lot of hard work. No doubt Piaras’s background would be looked down on by the young, snobby, rich aristocrats. Piaras had worked for everything he had; those elf cadets just had to be born. I didn’t have to tell Piaras any of this; he’d experienced it firsthand over the years.

“Then I know it’s jealousy,” I told him. “One, they’re nowhere near as magically gifted as you. Two, they’d probably crap their uniforms if a demon came running at them. Three, and this is what really gets their collective goat, you’re going to make knight before any of them. Some may not even make it to squire and they know it.” I sighed. “Piaras, Mychael isn’t keeping you here because he questions your competence. He’s keeping you here because he recognizes your potential . Yes, you’re eighteen; and yes, that makes you a man. But you’re also a cadet under the command of a paladin who wants to make sure that you live long enough to grow up to realize that potential. And if it makes you feel any better, even Mychael is having a tough time with this one. Every time he turns around, more bad guys have crawled out of the woodwork. He wants you safe and so do I.”

Piaras scowled. “But you’re not safe and neither is the paladin. You’re both facing all the danger, and I can’t make a move without those two.” He jerked his head back at the big Guardians trying to loom unobtrusively. “If they were any closer, they’d be in my boots with me.”

That image earned him a smile. Everything I’d been through, Piaras had been right there with me. That neither one of us had any white hairs to show for it was a miracle.

“You’re here learning to face danger,” I told him. “Mychael and I want you to get a little more experience under your belt before you have to fight off death five times a day, which seems to be becoming the story of my life.” I kept my voice steady, but it wasn’t easy. “Promise me you won’t try to lose your guards. They’re shadowing you for your own good.” I lowered my voice further. “Mychael’s had one traitor among his men, and it’s been my experience that traitors at least come in pairs.”

Piaras knew that only too well; that traitor had tried to kill him—and under Sarad Nukpana’s influence, Piaras had nearly killed that traitor.

“I promise,” he said.

“Thank you. That’ll give me one less thing to worry about.”

“And I’m watching my own back, too.”

“Good. Don’t stop there. Watch your sides and your front, and your head and those big feet of yours while you’re at it. Right now, there’s no way you can be too careful. As paladin, Mychael is your commander. That means you take your orders from him. And if he orders you to stay put, you stay put. Got it?”

Piaras grinned slowly. “I’ve got it, but obviously you don’t.”

“What?”

“From what I hear, he ordered you to stay in your room, and here you are.”

I gave him a big smile. “I got news for you kid. Mychael ain’t my commander.”

Vegard and I were leaving the gym when I saw Dad standing in the doorway watching me. Beside him stood a complete surprise and I wasn’t sure it was a good one.

Nachtmagus Vidor Kalta.

They made no move to come in, so Vegard and I crossed over to them.

“Arlyn, Nachtmagus Kalta,” I greeted them. Kalta knew my dad’s soul was living in Arlyn Ravide’s body, but every other Guardian in the gym thought Arlyn was just a young knight. They weren’t going to find out any different from me.

“We were told that we would find you here, Miss Benares,” Dad said. “Nachtmagus Kalta needed to speak with you.”

I felt his unease. Dad and I didn’t have a bond, at least not of the magical variety, but I guess sometimes a father and daughter can know what the other’s thinking, no words needed.

Dad didn’t want to be here. But I was here, so he came regardless of his fear.

Fear. That was what I felt from him.

I knew why.

He had died here.

Arlyn Ravide, the young Guardian in whose body my dad’s soul lived, had died at the hands of the demon queen only a few yards from where we were standing, the Scythe of Nen plunged through his heart. She’d wet the blade with his sacrificial blood, then stabbed the Saghred with equal ease. My dad’s soul had escaped the Saghred and occupied Arlyn Ravide’s lifeless body.

“Let’s go out into the hall,” I suggested.

Dad nodded once, wordlessly.

“Do you remember any of it?” I asked him quietly. He knew what I was talking about.

“Flashes of memory, nothing more.”

He was lying. But considering he had bled and died in the room we’d just left, he deserved a little lie. Hell, he deserved all the lies he wanted to tell.

“Vegard, is there anywhere around here that’s private?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said solemnly. “Follow me.”

Vegard led the way, Vidor Kalta and I followed, and my dad, as Arlyn Ravide, brought up the rear as a young Guardian should in the presence of a high-ranking guest and a superior officer. That would be Kalta and Vegard. I had no clue where I fell on the Guardian scale of military etiquette.

Kalta broke the uncomfortable silence, bless him. “Sir Arlyn and I were on our way out into the city, and we wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Very well,” I replied. “No thanks to my own foolishness.”

“Bravery, Mistress Benares,” Kalta corrected me. “Attacking in the face of certain death to save others is bravery.”

Or stupid, if your dad was a super mage and didn’t need your help. But I didn’t need to say that out loud; Kalta knew. He was just making conversation for anyone who might hear.

Vegard led us down a side hallway, opened a door, and stepped aside for the three of us to enter. He followed and closed the door.

“No one can hear us in here,” he told me. “You may speak freely.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain?”

“Positive.”

I glanced at Dad, then spoke to Vidor Kalta. “Mychael said that you and he spoke and that you understand the need for discretion.”

Kalta flashed a quick smile. “I’ve always been discreet, even in the face of the most cryptic of comments.”

Dad chuckled. “Raine wants to know if you’re going to expose me for who I am, but she doesn’t want to come right out and say it. She’s trying to protect me again. Raine, Vidor knew the moment he saw me with those Reapers that I was an old soul.”

“Paladin Eiliesor has explained the situation,” Kalta told me. “It’s my belief that a man’s past, regardless of how extensive, is his own business. I am interested in Sir Arlyn’s specialized knowledge in solving your problem.”

I bit back a snort. “I have so many. Which problem would that be?”

“My intention was to research a way to break your link to the Saghred,” Dad said. “But I believe the continued existence of Sarad Nukpana is a greater danger to you right now.”

I felt a chill of apprehension. I knew where he was going with this, or more to the point, who he was going after.

“No,” I told him.

“No, what?”

“No, you’re not going after him.”

Dad grinned boyishly. “I can hardly go after that which I have not found—a situation I hope to change very soon. Raine, I was here nine hundred years ago. The city is only a century older than me. You said you smelled stale air, damp, and mold.”

“Yes.”

“Sounds like something old, just like me.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it. You’re my daughter. I came close to losing you yesterday. I’m doing this so that you’ll be safe tomorrow and every day after that.”

I met him with silence.

“I know every crypt, ruin, and dark and dank hiding place on this island. I used more than a few of them myself before I escaped the island with the Saghred. Sarad Nukpana needs seclusion. The cha’nescu ritual takes over an hour, and once begun, it cannot be stopped. Sarad cannot risk discovery. He’s gone to ground.” My dad’s smile was fierce. “So I’m going to search every square inch of it.”

“Please tell me Mychael assigned some Guardians to go with—”

Dad held up his hand. He knew what I was thinking.

“I’ll have a few Guardians with me.” He paused meaningfully. “Men he trusts enough to take orders from a junior knight and not ask questions or spread rumors.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Good.”

Sarad Nukpana knew that my dad had escaped the Saghred and whose body he was living in. There was no statute of limitations on Saghred stealing. If anyone discovered that Arlyn Ravide was my father, Eamaliel Anguis, he would be arrested and tried, with execution being a foregone conclusion.

I closed the distance between us and hugged him, tightly. “Be careful.”

“Whenever possible. I know I’m probably wasting my words, but would you please do the same?”

I smiled and glanced at Vegard. “Whenever possible.”

Dad’s expression was stern. “Raine, souls came out of you and went into Reapers; those same Reapers damned near killed you to get more. And Mychael told me what happened with the mage’s specter in the bordello.”

“Nothing happened. I stopped it.”

“Did you? You are strong, incredibly so, but—”

I knew where he was going. Strong, but not strong enough. “Mychael calls me stubborn,” I said to lighten the mood.

“Raine, the Saghred and those Reapers have existed for untold millennia. They know how to get what they want. Have a care, daughter. Please. I didn’t fight my way out of the Saghred to watch you be consumed by it—or by those who hunt it.” He paused, his solemn eyes on mine. “Those Reapers were coming for you. Yes, they took the sorcerer’s specter first. It was easier prey. But what attracted them was you.”

Kalta tactfully cleared his throat. “Miss Benares, if I may ask a question.”

A question from a nachtmagus probably wasn’t a question I wanted to think about, let alone answer. “Go ahead.”

“When the souls came out of you, were they struggling against the Reapers . . . or were they struggling against you?”

Kalta knew the answer just as well as I did.

“They were struggling to get out of me.” I took a deep, steadying breath. “Nothing’s ever hurt me that bad in my life.”

He regarded me somberly. “It is the nature of spirits to cross over. Most not only want to; they need to. Only the most angry or confused spirits refuse to go—they either want revenge, or they won’t admit, or simply don’t know, that they’re dead. Crossing over completes the cycle of life into death. It is the natural way of things.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line. “Pardon me for disputing the natural order, but what happened sure as hell didn’t feel natural to me.”

“No doubt. You are the vessel that holds them prisoner.” He paused. “You and the Saghred are virtually one.”

He didn’t need to spell it out for me. I knew. I knew it to the point that I’d given up trying to deny or forget it. The closer the Saghred and I became, the more often the Reapers would appear. Like Sarad Nukpana, they wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted.

Death had all the time in the world.

Mine was running out.