Forged in Blood II Page 6

  Sicarius wouldn’t have answered, but, again, the response was plucked from his lips without his assent. “Yes.”

  “Thanks to my intelligence-gathering team, you’ve got three of the Forge founders on that list,” Flintcrest said. “If you truly control him—” he eyed Sicarius like one might eye a rattlesnake poised to escape its terrarium, “—and he gets rid of them, we’ll be close to the end. Once Marblecrest’s female allies have been disposed of, he’ll have nothing except those fancy firearms, and we can take those from him. The man’s a joke as a general and as a candidate for the throne. Even if nobody had heard of Forge, everyone would guess he’d been bought.”

  One of Kor Nas’s silvery eyebrows rose, as if to remind Flintcrest that he, too, had been bought, or at least had a deal in place with an outside entity.

  Flintcrest read the gesture clearly, for he glowered back at Kor Nas. A long moment passed, the men staring at each other. Surprisingly, it was the practitioner who broke eye contact first.

  “If five assassinations will bring this organization to its knees,” Kor Nas said, “it is not so formidable as my government thought.”

  “Oh, I’m sure its tendrils have slithered all over the world, but the founders are the ones we have to worry about. With them gone… it’ll take time for them to reorganize. By then, the issue of the throne will be decided.” Flintcrest’s chin jerked up, and he thumped his chest.

  “As you say.” Kor Nas pointed at Sicarius. “You understand that note? Can you find those people?”

  “I want their heads as proof of the deed done,” Flintcrest said.

  How like Raumesys and Hollowcrest. Truly, the empire would change little if Flintcrest found the throne, though Raumesys never would have dealt with the Nurians. What other concessions had he promised them?

  “Understood,” Sicarius found himself responding.

  “I’ll have my spies continue to research and get the rest of the founders’ names,” Flintcrest said.

  “I don’t think that will be necessary.” Kor Nas smiled slightly. “I’m sure a trained assassin can extract the needed information before cutting the final throat.”

  “Yes,” Sicarius heard himself saying.

  The founders names. Amaranthe had known them, Sicarius recalled, though she hadn’t shared them with him. Out of fear that he’d take it upon himself to assassinate them. And he would have. To protect her and Sespian. It was too late for that now, but he’d kill them anyway, without fighting the practitioner. He hadn’t thought it was within him to hate, to care enough about any one thing to have such a strong feeling, but loathing welled up in him now as he studied the names. Yes, he hated the Forge people for their role in Sespian’s and Amaranthe’s deaths.

  He recognized one of the names on the list, the person staying in the hotel by the yacht club, and decided he’d take particular satisfaction in killing her. Neeth Worgavic.

  Chapter 4

  Sleep continued to elude Amaranthe, and dawn saw her no better rested than the night before. It was just as well. Her nightmares were sure to take on a whole new vile bent now. For hours, the talk had continued in the office next door. She hadn’t tried to make out any of it. She’d been busy with her own thoughts, though they’d stopped spinning so rapidly through her brain at some point. They were fewer and farther between now. For the last hour, whether or not she should get up to use the latrine had been foremost among them. She didn’t want to go out there. Perhaps the trash bin in the corner of the room would suffice…

  A feminine screech cut through the door, and Amaranthe bolted up. Who could that have been? Starcrest’s wife? And had that been a cry of surprise? Or pain? Maybe their hideout had been discovered, and the factory was being attacked.

  Amaranthe scrambled to the door, then out onto the landing. Every inch of floor space below was taken up by packs, hastily spread bedrolls, and weapons, everything from rifles to cutlasses and short swords to crossbows and longbows. She didn’t see any sign that the factory was being attacked, though a few amused soldiers were gazing toward the door, where…

  She stumbled forward and gripped the railing. Surprise and delight lifted her spirits, and she grinned like a fool. She couldn’t imagine how it could be possible, but Maldynado stood a couple of paces from the threshold, or at least he was trying to remain standing. Yara had flung herself at him, wrapping her legs and arms around him, and her face was buried in his shoulder. That screech… had been her?

  Maldynado’s face was grimy and unshaven, his eyes weary with dark hollows beneath them, his clothing ripped and stained with dirt and blood, but he was undeniably standing and breathing. After a startled moment, he smiled and wrapped his arms around Yara in return.

  Amaranthe thought to call out, to ask where he’d been and how he’d survived, but Yara was kissing him by then, showing more naked enthusiasm than Amaranthe had ever seen from the woman, and he probably wouldn’t hear her.

  Sespian and Basilard walked through the door, appearing equally battered and tired. Amaranthe started for the steps, intending to run down and grab them both in an embrace, but Basilard noticed her, and their eyes met from across the building. Something in those frank blue eyes made her halt, an uneasy premonition sinking into her stomach.

  When no one else walked in behind them, Amaranthe signed, Sicarius?

  Basilard hesitated, then shook his head.

  She stumbled back to her door. How? How could the others have made it out and not Sicarius? She loved Maldynado and couldn’t wish for anything but happiness between him and Yara, but cursed ancestors, why couldn’t Sicarius have walked in so she could fling herself into his arms?

  Wait, she told herself, wait to mourn until you know for certain. Maybe he was just… missing. Maybe nobody knew for sure.

  Thumps and grunts came from the bottom of the stairs. Maldynado, with Yara still latched to him, was fumbling his way up the steps at the same time as he accepted a barrage of kisses. How he reached the top when he couldn’t see where he was going, Amaranthe didn’t know. She said nothing, having a hard time finding joy in her heart for their reunion. Not when…

  Well, she hadn’t spoken to anyone yet. Maybe she could find hope in Basilard or Sespian’s news.

  “Hullo, boss,” Maldynado managed when his lips were free. “Good to see—oooph.”

  Yara had grabbed his cheeks with her hands and kissed him. Maldynado turned a quick wave into a grab for the doorknob of the room he and Yara had been sharing.

  Amaranthe lifted a hand, intending to warn them that it was occupied, but neither Maldynado nor Yara was paying attention to her. They barreled into the office, and voices inside halted.

  Basilard and Sespian were halfway up the stairs, and Sespian smiled and lifted a hand toward her. He opened his mouth, but Maldynado and Yara stumbled out again before he could speak. Surely they’d find it easier to get from one place to the next if she put her legs down and walked of her own volition…

  Maldynado peered about, wearing a bewildered expression, perhaps noticing all those soldiers for the first time. “Who are all these people?” he blurted.

  “Admiral Starcrest and his advisers,” Amaranthe said.

  “Admiral Star…” Maldynado stared into the office.

  From her position, Amaranthe couldn’t tell if Starcrest or any of the others were staring back, but she imagined that’d be the case after having entwined lovers barge into their meeting.

  “Erp?” Maldynado said.

  “Downstairs,” Yara said. She dropped her legs so she could stand, though she didn’t let go of Maldynado’s arms. She dragged him down the stairs, past Basilard and Sespian who parted for their speedy retreat. Amaranthe didn’t know if the haste of that retreat was entirely due to sexual urgency.

  “Admiral Starcrest is here?” Sespian asked when he reached the top of the landing.

  Amaranthe extended a hand toward the open office door. “We ran into him west of the city and brought him back here.”


  “That’s amazing.” Sespian rushed forward and gripped her shoulders, glancing at the doorway on the way by. “How did you find him? What did you—”

  “It was Sicarius’s doing,” Amaranthe rushed to say. She didn’t want credit for any of this. It surely hadn’t been any brilliance on her part that had resulted in Starcrest’s arrival.

  At the name, Sespian lowered his hands, the animation draining from his face. Amaranthe feared she wasn’t going to get any good news. “I’m glad you’re well,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe what happened to us.”

  Amaranthe had no trouble believing. She would have said as much, but Sespian’s gaze had been drawn to the doorway again. He seemed torn between wanting to check in with her and wanting to check in with Starcrest.

  “I’m sure they’ve been waiting for you,” Amaranthe said, making the decision for him.

  Sespian squeezed her arm. “I’ll talk to you later. I want to know everything that’s happened.”

  Amaranthe wanted to know, too, but she merely nodded and waved for him to go inside. Someone shut the door as soon as he did.

  “Basilard.” Amaranthe gripped his arm even though he stood in front of her, and appeared ready to answer all of her questions. “How did you survive that… catastrophe? And Sicarius? Is he…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say dead.

  Basilard lifted his shoulders. He was out hunting the soul construct. Nobody’s seen him since he left.

  A wave of relief almost bore Amaranthe to her knees. She caught herself on the railing. He could still be dead, especially if he hadn’t made it back yet, but for now, he was simply missing. He’d been missing before. He was the sort to stick to a mission until he completed it. She wouldn’t give up on him.

  “How did you, Sespian, and Maldynado escape?” Amaranthe asked.

  We were in the tunnels. General Ridgecrest, too, though his family was inside when the Behemoth crashed. Basilard grimaced. He’s in shock. Only two hundred of his men made it out with us. Did you see the… site?

  Did she see? She’d caused it. She couldn’t bring herself to voice the admission. “I saw.” Amaranthe clawed her stray hair back into a fresh bun and tried to straighten her thoughts as well. She ought to see what Starcrest and all these soldiers were planning to do. After all this… anything except a solution that was truly good for the empire would be unacceptable. She still wanted to curl up into a ball, luxuriating in self-pity, but she drew strength from Basilard’s presence. At least her men had made it out. It would have been beyond horror if they’d given her their hard work and cooperation—and trust—this last year, only to die because of her negligence. “What tunnels are under Fort Urgot?”

  Heroncrest’s army brought tunnel-boring machines. While the surface troops distracted us, they were digging routes through the earth to come up in the housing section of the fort. About a half hour before the… crash, they broke through and soldiers ran out. It wasn’t far from Ridgecrest’s section of the wall, and he leaped down, personally leading the charge to kill them or drive them back. Maldynado, Sespian, and I followed him. We collapsed one of the tunnels, but were down in the other one, fighting our way to the borers. Sespian had an idea to destroy the machines so more passages couldn’t be made. We were in the middle somewhere, between the fort and the camp, when… it felt like the world ended. Basilard rubbed his hand over the three days of growth on his head. With all the scars, it had come in patchy. So much dirt and rubble poured down. We were buried and had to dig our way out. Down there, we couldn’t tell what had happened, except that all of the sudden there was utter silence. The opposition disappeared. The tunnel exit wasn’t guarded. We came out and saw… we saw it all.

  “Yes.” What else was there to say?

  Are Books and Akstyr all right? I haven’t seen them.

  “We’re battered from our adventure, but we all escaped,” Amaranthe said. “Akstyr has grown useful of late. We wouldn’t have made it without him.”

  “Oh?” came Maldynado’s voice from the stairs. “Maybe I should take him to the Pirate’s Plunder as a reward. Do you think Yara would—” He glanced back down the stairs, but she wasn’t in sight. Amaranthe was surprised she’d released him so soon.

  “Yes, she’d mind if you went to a brothel,” Amaranthe said. “Where’d she go?”

  “To find soap and to heat water. After her initial pleasure at seeing me wore off—” he smiled at this memory, “—she insisted on bathing me before engaging in more amorous activities. Oh, and I wasn’t going to ask if she minded if I went to a brothel. I was going to ask if you thought she’d like to come along.”

  “She’d mind that even more. I’m sure Akstyr would be fine with a celebratory pie.” Though now that she knew of Curi’s questionable allegiance, Amaranthe wouldn’t be shopping for sweets there.

  “Pie. Just when I think you know men fairly well, you say something like that.” He met Basilard’s eyes, giving him a women-are-surely-odd look.

  Amaranthe tried to smile, but her soul felt so weary, so pitted and ravaged by guilt, she didn’t manage it.

  I should also seek a bath, Basilard signed.

  “I wasn’t going to comment on the matter,” Maldynado said, crinkling his nose, “but, yes. Yes, you should.”

  “Before you go… does either of you know where Sicarius went to look for that soul construct?” Practically speaking, finding him shouldn’t be her priority, especially when he preferred to hunt alone anyway, but Amaranthe would worry about him until she knew he was safe.

  Both men shook their heads.

  Maldynado waved vaguely in the direction of the lake. “Sespian was the last one to talk to him. You should ask him.”

  Basilard eyed the closed meeting door, then gave a parting wave and descended to the factory floor. Maybe he wasn’t certain whether having this legendary Turgonian admiral show up was a good idea or not. Maldynado was giving the door a wary look, too, though perhaps for other reasons.

  A one-eyed, gray-haired man with a fierce glower stomped up the stairs. He pushed past Maldynado and entered the meeting room without a word. Numerous raised voices flowed out before the door shut again.

  “That’s General Ridgecrest,” Maldynado said. “I reckon the meeting will really be getting started now.”

  “I should join them,” Amaranthe said, “if they’ll let me.”

  She reached for the doorknob, but peeked in the window first and paused, intimidated by all the uniformed men sitting around a conference table comprised of several desks and bookcases that had been pushed together. Lanterns blazed, lighting up the room, and general’s and colonel’s ranks glinted on all the uniforms. Sespian sat amongst them, his clothes as grimy, ripped, and stained as Maldynado’s, but he didn’t appear daunted by the company, most of it gray-haired and stern of face. By his choice or theirs, he’d taken the head of the table. Starcrest, also in civilian clothes, albeit much cleaner ones, leaned against the wall to the side, his arms folded across his chest, his eyelids half drooped, listening rather than talking. Or trying to talk. Judging by the gesticulating and the raised voices, three people were speaking at once. Maybe Starcrest had decided to absorb information for now. After all, he couldn’t be that current on events, if he’d been traveling for weeks. She could only guess at how much he’d kept up with Turgonian news in the years prior.

  Amaranthe wondered where the professor was. She would have felt more comfortable walking in if there’d been another woman in the room—or if she didn’t have that pesky bounty on her head. Or if Sicarius were at her side, glaring over her shoulder at anyone who belittled her.

  She sighed. She wouldn’t have relied on him so heavily in the past—when had she grown so gun shy?

  “When everything started going wrong,” she muttered.

  “What’s that?” Maldynado asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re not afraid to go in, are you? I’m sure Sespian won’t let anyone shoot you.”

  “Comfort
ing, thank you.”

  Maldynado scratched an armpit, glanced back down the stairs, then met her eyes. “Want me to go in with you?”

  “Do you want to go in with me?”

  “Dear ancestors, no, those generals are intimidating.”

  Amaranthe snorted. “Who’s afraid now?”

  “Oh, that’d be me. I’m still disowned, you know. Those people are all… owned. They won’t appreciate my irreverent charm. Besides Yara might have my water ready by now. I just wanted to check in with you and make sure… you’re all right.” He raised his eyebrows.

  All right? Not even close.

  “I’m fine,” Amaranthe said. “You better not delay your bath. I can smell those armpits from here.”

  Maldynado was kind enough not to point out that she hadn’t bathed recently either. He simply sniffed one of the offending pits, nodded in agreement, and wandered back down the stairs.

  Amaranthe took a breath and slipped into the room. Hardly anyone noticed, as the officers were busy leaning on the tables, pointing sharply, and arguing with each other.

  “The problem is his legitimacy,” a general she didn’t recognize was saying. “If we throw our men behind him and we’re not successful, if Marblecrest or Flintcrest or someone else comes out on top, we’ll be condemning every single one of our soldiers to the firing line.”

  “He who controls the capital can force the issue,” said an earnest bald colonel with stubby sausage-like fingers that he waved about as he spoke. “It’s no longer about legitimacy, it’s about power.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with that,” the general said. “I’m pointing out how meager our forces are in comparison with those that the other contenders command.”

  “Especially now,” Ridgecrest growled. His single eye was bloodshot. He ought to be in a bunk somewhere, not staying up for this meeting. But then, with the nightmares he’d have, he’d probably rather work than sleep. Amaranthe understood that all too well. “But we do have an advantage that they don’t.” Ridgecrest lifted a hand toward Starcrest. “Even if he’s forgotten all he knew of military strategy in the last twenty years, his name alone will cast doubt into our enemies’ minds.”