Embrace the Fire Page 30

  Jerrus shook his head. “He is to arrive shortly, Your Grace. I spoke to him last evening before the last bell.”

  Jerrus returned his attention to the map, and Sebastian paced, glancing out the tent at ClarenVale, his mind churning. His irritation only increased with time.

  The entire mountain range seemed to wait in anticipation. Sebastian's tents lined the hills and ridges for fieldspans on either side of ClarenVale. After Erlane's defeat on the Forgotten Plains of West Ashwynd, the Lismarian army had fled across the Channel and, despite some mild skirmishes on the western slopes of the Marron Mountains, they had retreated into the stronghold of ClarenVale. What a coward, Sebastian thought derisively. Erlane had the greater numbers; he could have taken a stand on the beaches of Lismaria, but instead of risking significant loss, he'd chosen to pull his forces back into the Lismarian capital.

  Erlane thought his high city impenetrable. But Sebastian had plans to open ClarenVale's gates and take the city before reinforcements could arrive from the eastern reaches of Lismaria.

  Sebastian cuffed his glove against a chair back before returning to the open tent flap, pursing his lips as he studied the distant castle.

  “Do you think, Your Grace, that you can fully trust Commander Lanier?” Jerrus asked.

  “What?” Sebastian bit out.

  “Consider his reaction when you ordered his sister hung.” He tapped his fingers on the parchment before glancing up at Sebastian. “Word has it that his loyalty to his family was stronger than iron.”

  Sebastian stared at Jerrus, but the man's thick mustache hid most of his expression. Sebastian shoved aside the tent flap and stalked up the hill toward Lanier's tent. It was buried in a copse of trees, and he could only see the front flaps of his Commander's tent.

  The thought had occurred to Sebastian before; he'd tested his Commander's loyalty many times in the years of their friendship, but he'd never pushed so hard as the day he'd ordered Lanier's sister killed. However, Lanier had not wavered in continuing his leadership; his orders were still crisp and clear and always exactly what Sebastian wished.

  Even so, it was time to confront Lanier, if only to prove Jerrus wrong.

  The tent was empty. Sebastian glanced down at the Commanders' tent. Lanier should be nearly ready to attend the Commanders' meeting, but no sign of the man disturbed the hill, and the only movement among the lower shelters was the normal bustle of soldiers trudging between rows and moving up the hill to the creature cages to take care of their charges.

  Sebastian entered Lanier's tent, glancing at the bedroll that spread on the neatly swept ground, the saddlebag in the corner. Curiosity sparked, and he moved toward it.

  Rustling leaves some lengths behind the tent stilled his movements. Voices filtered through the canvas.

  “Iolar. You are certain you weren't seen?”

  “I'm certain, Commander.”

  Sebastian crept closer to the rear canvas flaps. The material gapped a fraction of an orlach, and Sebastian could see into the shade of the trees. Lanier faced an Elf whose pale profile contrasted sharply with the dark hair draped over his pointed ears. The Elf held a rolled parchment in his hand, and he placed it into Lanier's.

  The Commander read its contents. After a moment, he furled it again and handed it back to the Elf. “Burn it,” he said. “Its contents are deadly if Sebastian gets wind of it. If she truly is willing to carry the banner forward under Liam's name and bloodline, there should be no issue with turning loyalty throughout large portions of West Ashwynd. It will take cultivation, though. Wait for the battle to commence here; then you will have more information to carry back to West Ashwynd.”

  “Aye, Commander.” The Elf tucked the parchment into his belt and pulled his vest over it. “Have you any other instructions for me?”

  “Nay. I must get to a meeting with Sebastian. I will contact you in a day or two.”

  The Elf bowed and departed silently through the trees. Lanier turned for the tent, and Sebastian swiftly exited through the front, slipping behind a thick oak and waiting until Lanier passed to the Commanders' tent. Sebastian followed some lengths behind, his furious thoughts roiling.

  So Lanier, the faithful lapdog, had turned at last.

  How dare he!

  Sebastian stepped inside the Commanders' tent. Lanier leaned over the map on the table where Jerrus held the parchment open. Small, carved bits of wood decorated portions of it, the markers that showed Jerrus's strategy.

  “Lanier. So glad to see you could finally grace me with your presence.”

  Lanier turned to Sebastian and bowed. “Your Grace, I apologize for my lateness.”

  “You never intend to be late, and yet you were.” Sebastian kept his voice as calm as if he were asking for a beaker of water. “What kept you?”

  “I stopped to speak with one of the Officers, Your Grace. He had questions relating to the creature positions.” The Commander didn't bat an eyelash. Sebastian wondered how often his servant had lied to him.

  “I see.” Sebastian clasped his hands behind his back and paced. “Would it not have been better to settle on our plan of attack first before you instructed him where to place his creatures?”

  “It was a cursory question, Your Grace. He only wished to know if the Cerberuses should be so near the Direwolves since they bring out each other's ire.”

  “Smooth,” Sebastian muttered, sliding his sword from its sheath. He nestled the tip into Lanier's leather chest piece.

  “Your Grace!”

  It was a motionless tableau—Jerrus to the side, eyebrows lifted, Lanier frozen by the table, Sebastian gripping his sword.

  Lanier slowly raised his hands. “Your Grace, I don't know—”

  “Don't you?” Ice crackled through Sebastian's voice as thickly as it did his hands beneath his gloves. He considered stripping off the gloves then and there to turn the traitor into a frozen rock, but the memory of the soldiers' loyalty to Lanier kept his hand on the sword. “Treason, Lanier? After what I've given you?” He allowed disappointment to coat his words.

  Lanier's eyes flickered. “The death of my sister was a gift from you as well?”

  “Nay, it was a test, one that you have now failed.” Sebastian motioned to a coil of chains laying lay near the back of the tent that had been used to close the creature cages. “Jerrus, bind the Commander's wrists and ankles and keep him here. You and I will trade off guard duty until I can find men I trust to relieve us.”

  “Your Grace, what of my soldiers? They will not take kindly to their Commander being in chains.” Desperation tinged Lanier's voice.

  Sebastian allowed himself a smile. “They will learn from Jerrus that you have fallen gravely ill and are unable to meet them at post. No one will doubt that you would wish them to fight loyally and hard for Sebastian. Now,” Sebastian sheathed his sword as Jerrus wound the chains around Lanier's fists, “who was the Elf?”

  “The Elf?”

  “Aye. The Elf who fed you information and who is remaining here until battle commences before returning to West Ashwynd. I wish to gain information from him.”

  Lanier lapsed into sullen silence. He allowed Jerrus to force him to the ground against the rear tent pole and to chain his wrists to the wood.

  “Oh come, Lanier, you know I hate to resort to torture, particularly since we've had such a wonderful friendship for so very long. So I ask again, who is the Elf? Surely he has a name.”

  Lanier's silence was smothering. Sebastian's lips tightened. “Very well, don't speak, but I have by no means finished with you.”

  “Would you have me set a guard on him, Your Grace?” Jerrus asked as they both retreated to the entrance of the tent.

  “No.” Sebastian glanced across the tent-specked mountain slopes and then to the massive city below. “Most of the soldiers are too loyal to Lanier. Some among the outer Clans may care less, but I will go speak with some of their Officers to get a feel for their thoughts. If I can find a few and feed them enough s
ceptremarks, we'll have help.”

  “Aye, Your Grace.” Jerrus stood aside while Sebastian went to the table and glanced over the map.

  “What are your ideas for attack, Jerrus?”

  Jerrus pointed to the Marron Mountains in a line across the map. “We can't pull off a frontal attack, not without massive casualties and likely defeat.”

  “It is true that Erlane has greater numbers, but we still have an advantage. Our soldiers are well trained, and our Dimn and creature system is far more organized than Lismaria’s,” Sebastian grunted.

  “Your Grace, you no longer have the Dragon-Master,” Jerrus reminded him. “Was that not your prime strategy should we reach the gates of ClarenVale?”

  “Aye.” Sebastian's voice was clipped. “But we are not completely bereft.”

  “Your Grace, our manpower—”

  “I am well aware of our numbers, Jerrus!” He looked down at the castle, his familiar home from years ago. “I know those gates, Jerrus. I know the strength that sinews them together. What I don't understand is why you think I don't know how to approach my own castle!”

  “Your Grace, no one is implying—”

  Jerrus stopped short as Sebastian slammed his gloved hand on the map. “Yes, the implication was clear, and I'll thank you not to gloss it over, Jerrus. If you don't think a frontal attack is the best course of action, then what is your alternate plan?”

  Jerrus didn't answer immediately. Sebastian straightened. “Surely you have an alternate course of action?”

  “I—am unsure of it, to say the least, Your Grace. I have scouts who are currently following up on the best routes in and out of the castle, but I would say, right now, that our best plan—”

  “Yes?”

  “—is a siege, Your Grace.”

  “A siege.” A siege meant more expense and time, and Sebastian wondered how he would keep Lanier's current prisoner status under wraps for a long siege. Besides that, the longer they remained, the higher the chances that they would have to fight Erlane's reinforcements marching from the eastern reaches of the country.

  Jerrus nodded. “Aye, Your Grace, we could easily block entrance to the main gate. The terrain is so mountainous around ClarenVale that it would be extremely hard to open a supply route to any back entrances to the city.”

  Sebastian folded his arms across his chest. “And the waterways beneath the castle? Why could we not attack there?”

  “We could, Your Grace,” Jerrus answered. “We could do any of these things, but the guard inside the castle is numerous, and we'll take heavy casualties with any plan. Whereas if the inhabitants of the city are starving first, they'll be unable to stand against an onslaught from our side.” Jerrus looked to Sebastian for his approval.

  Sebastian had waited years for this, the opportunity to retake his Lismarian throne. Seeing his old home down in the valley had a powerful effect on him, and his patience fled. He wanted to enter Nicholas Erlane's throne room and skewer the old bat with his sword, and he wanted to do it immediately.

  Well, perhaps not immediately, he thought as he eyed another Division arriving and milling about on the ridges, settling their creatures, preparing their shelters and their campfires. One thing about it, they would be no surprise to Erlane.

  “Nay,” he turned to face Jerrus again. “We attack at dawn.”

  Lanier jerked his gaze to Sebastian's from where he sat. “Your Grace, that would be suicide. Even if we agreed that it was a good plan, we've had little to no time to gain familiarity with the lay of the land, no time to plan strategy—”

  “Did I ask you, traitor?” Sebastian interrupted. He slid the map from beneath Jerrus's fingers and rolled it. “I grew up here; I say it can be done.”

  Jerrus's dark gaze flicked back and forth between them. “So ... we have an accord then?”

  Lanier glared at Sebastian, but Sebastian ignored him. “Aye. Jerrus, you'll take sole leadership on the morrow. Let the men know that Lanier is ill.”

  Fury threaded Lanier's gaze. Sebastian turned for the exit. He left Jerrus in the tent with the imprisoned traitor and went to check on his armies and his Dimn.

  * * *

  Evening stole across the mountains. Sebastian stood within a torch-lit circle, the heads of all his army Divisions surrounding him. Sebastian had found a Trolldimn who had unwittingly spilled his wrath against Lanier to Commander Jerrus, and Jerrus had brought the Dimn to the Commanders' tent to guard Lanier.

  “Our numbers are all arrived, Your Grace,” Jerrus said, and his light voice irritated Sebastian, though he couldn't understand why. “We are free to attack on the morrow.”

  “Good,” Sebastian said. “Spend the night setting up the lines before the front gates.”

  Jerrus bowed, and Sebastian turned away. He returned to his tent, knowing he wouldn't sleep that night, but hoping to anyway, if only to have a clear head in the morning.

  A clear, lilting voice caught him. “Your Grace.”

  Sebastian turned. Standing at the edge of the shadows, a familiar form stood, wrapped in a cloak and mantle. A smile curved Sebastian's lips. He approached the slender figure and stopped in front of her.

  “Don't you know that a war is on? There are dangerous men lurking about.”

  “If you fear them, I will protect you, Your Grace.” Lianna's eyebrows arched over her brilliant blue eyes.

  Sebastian laughed and drew her arm within his as he led her into the darkness of the woods. “How did you get past my lines?” he asked.

  “You are the only Andrachen in your armies, Your Grace,” Lianna answered. “It was easy enough to blind your men to my passage.”

  Sebastian removed his cloak and laid it on the ground at the base of a tree, inviting her to sit on it. Through the copses, they could see the dancing torchlight and the campfires beyond, but where they were was dark and quiet.

  Sebastian leaned against the tree, an arm slung loosely over his knee, and waited. Lianna's gaze was on the nearest campfire that flickered through the woods. “Why did you come, Lianna? Not,” he added, “that I'm complaining; I quite enjoyed our time together in the mountains.” He brushed a finger over her hand where it rested on the cloak. Ice curved across the skin before vanishing. She jerked her hand away, but her smile was alluring as she turned to him. She lowered her voice into a purr. “Do I need an excuse to seek you out, Sebastian?”

  “In wartime? Yes.” The chill in Sebastian's fingers subsided. He did not fear this woman, and he felt his control over his Ice-Touch strengthen. She, however, feared him, though she hid it well.

  She moved closer to him. “Then let my excuse be that I wish to talk, Sebastian.” She touched his arm, tracing down his sleeve to his hand.

  Sebastian's fingers intercepted hers, and she yanked them back, her breath hitching. She dropped her gaze to her lap.

  Sebastian lifted her chin. “For someone who is attempting a seduction, you seem to be quite ... torn.” He leaned forward, tasting the skin of her jaw. She smelled sweet.

  “I—I simply have a proposal, Sebastian. It's why I'm here.”

  “Yes?” Sebastian's breath feathered where her slender neck slid into her shoulders. “What do you propose?”

  “Only an exchange, Your Grace,” she whispered, gasping when his lips traced her collarbone.

  “An exchange of what?”

  “Cedric—for the Amulet. You've told me that Commander Lanier holds it in his possession.”

  Sebastian chuckled deep in his throat, exploring the other side of her neck. “We've discussed this already, Lianna.”

  Lianna clasped both sides of Sebastian's face, bringing his gaze directly to hers. She took a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing her lips against his, leaning him back until he lay on his cloak.

  “You'll not consider it, Sebastian?” Her voice held all the charm of a Pixie, and even though he couldn't be swayed by its magic alone, her hands beneath his tunic clouded his thoughts. He pulled her closer, and she didn't resist.
“Please, Sebastian?” Each time Sebastian opened his mouth to reply, she swallowed his words with her own mouth, and darkness covered their tryst.

  At last, Sebastian scooted against the tree and tucked Lianna's head against his shoulder. A new plan formed in his mind. “You say, Lianna, that you wish to give me Cedric in exchange for the Amulet?”

  She raised her head, victory washing across her expression. She quickly schooled her features. “Aye, Sebastian.”

  “I discovered my Commander Lanier guilty of treachery.”

  Lianna sat up, surprise lighting her eyes.

  Sebastian stroked his beard thoughtfully. “What do you say to an exchange of prisoners?”

  The light in her eyes dimmed as a shapely brow rose. “Prisoners, Your Grace?”

  “If one of the prisoners carries the Amulet?”

  There was no hiding the victory in her expression this time. “Commander Lanier with the Amulet in exchange for Cedric?”

  “Aye.” He laid his mouth against her cool, pale skin again. “I wish to punish Lanier, and it's a fair trade,” he said, hiding a smile. When Lianna found no Amulet on Lanier, he would have the power of the Dragon-Master once again within his own armies. He leaned back. “What would you have done if I had refused an exchange?”

  She laughed softly. “I intended to employ force.”

  “Force,” Sebastian chuckled as her lips met his in an alluring kiss. “I enjoy your brand of force.”

  “Swear it by the Stars, Sebastian,” she whispered. “You've agreed to an exchange, but I want your word beneath the Great Star, a binding oath.”

  Sebastian traced a finger down her side and swore by the Stars in which he had no faith.

  When she rose from the cloak at last, she lifted her mantle hood over her head with an enigmatic smile. “It has truly been a pleasure, Your Grace. We will see what tomorrow brings.” Slowly, she placed a lingering kiss on his lips that set his pulse on fire. She slid her hand from his shoulder, down his arm, releasing his fingers last before turning and disappearing into the dark night.