Unleash the Inferno (Heart of a Dragon Book 3) Page 37

  Cedric gripped the Seer Fey blade, half-formed plans running frantically through his mind.

  Paik called out words in no language Cedric had ever heard, and darkness shot from his hands, writhing toward Cedric.

  The Seer Fey knife that Cedric held jerked upward, taking Cedric by surprise. He had not moved his arm.

  The darkness crashed against the silver, rebounding in confused roils through the air.

  Paik's eyes widened. “She has cast taibe across the ancient blade!” He called another curse, but again, the knife moved of its own accord, blocking it.

  “If I can't beat you by immortal means, then surely I can with a sword.” Paik drew his weapon from his robes.

  This time, Cedric was on familiar ground. He met the force of the sword with the knife, taking the weight of his enemy into the hilt. He returned the attack, and blow by blow, they circled the fire, each seeking a weakness in the other's defenses.

  Vaguely, Cedric was aware of a distant singing, and his nerves tightened as he realized the Seer Fey were spreading a blanket of taibe across the clearing. “Ashleen!” he called. “Take the Dragons and leave, now! You cannot escape their taibe!”

  Paik's green eyes glowed with victory. “My people are powerful, more powerful than the Andrachens,” he said, viciously hurling his sword forward.

  Cedric caught it against the knife once more, and because his weapon was smaller and lighter, before the Grand-Master could draw his own back for defense, Cedric plunged the knife into the Seer Fey's chest.

  “Perhaps,” he said, pulling the blade out. “But not today.”

  Paik slumped to his knees, slowly toppling to the earth, his eyes fixing on nothing.

  Behind them, the singing abruptly transformed to cries of confusion and disorder. The Great Dragons, snapped from the sleepy taibe, roared, landing amidst the confused Seer Fey, scattering them, snapping at them, enveloping them in Dragonfire.

  Ashleen's cry of pain yanked Cedric around. Sebastian had grabbed one of the Seer Fey knives and had gained the upper hand on Ashleen. A lurid, dripping, bleeding slash crossed her face from her chin clear up above her temple, and blood rained from it.

  “Ashleen!” Cedric leapt toward her, but though her glance flashed in his direction, she had disentangled herself from Sebastian, her sword turning and meeting a Seer Fey's with no pause, no hesitation to nurse her pain.

  She worked her way through an entire contingent of Seer Fey, wielding her sword like a master, making short work of them.

  Across the clearing, Ayden, still weak and white, sat up. He clutched Luasa's neck as he strained to pull himself to his feet. Kinna held his arm over her shoulder, lifting him as best she could.

  Cedric glanced back at Ashleen. He could hardly see her face, so blood-drenched it was from the cut. It would leave a mark on her skin for the rest of her days. Anger flooded him, hot, roiling, and molten.

  Sebastian would pay for that. He'd caused enough pain and suffering.

  He gripped his knife and turned back to face the Andrachen King, but Sebastian, it seemed, had fled.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sebastian

  Sebastian stumbled away from the fire, losing himself among the panicked, swirling Seer Fey, the raging Dragons, the shouts, the screams, the fury of the final, terrible battle. Fear clawed up his throat, gripping and strangling him, tearing into his thoughts so that he saw Liam's face wherever he turned.

  He'd lost his helmet, but he didn't know where, and the royal crest that embroidered his cloak lay hidden, blotted beneath crusted, drying blood. He stumbled over a Seer Fey, and he shoved her roughly aside, lurching into the trees, making his way up the hill.

  How could he have lost the Amulet? It was everything he'd set his sights on, the culmination of all his plans. He'd wished for the Lismarian throne, he'd wished to subdue any threats to that throne, and the Amulet was the linchpin that should have sealed it all. Not only had it brought him the Touches, the longer it remained with him, the more it would have enhanced his powers. He recalled the thrill of burning portions of the lower city at ClarenVale. He'd turned men to ash with a flick of his wrist. He'd dreamed of more such vengeance as his powers grew. He would have been unconquerable. No one—no one—could have stood against him.

  But it was gone, slipping through his fingers like wind.

  He slammed against a tree, heaving for breath, pain slicing through his arm and his shoulder. The arrow still wedged into his flesh, and he craned his neck to see it. Wrapping his arm across his chest, he gripped the wood firmly where the bolt entered his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he snapped the bolt an orlach from the entry point.

  Pain speared him, and he crashed to the ground, moaning, holding the wound as blood fountained over it, welling through his fingers. He grew faint and clammy, and bees buzzed in his ears.

  Look at this!

  Liam's spectre appeared in front of him, running through a meadow where they used to play outside the walls of ClarenVale as young boys.

  What is it?

  Sebastian squinted to see what his brother pointed at. The dip in the ground hid it from view. He'd been afraid to follow him; his nurse had always told him the old ruins outside the walls were a dangerous place to play.

  Sebastian, come here!

  Sebastian glanced up at the castle walls. His nurse had left the window for a few minutes. He glanced back at Liam, gaining courage and running across the dead grass toward him.

  The ground disappeared from beneath his feet. He fell, his heart lurching into his throat as he disappeared into the deep darkness of an old dungeon whose roof had since given way to the sunlight above.

  He landed hard on his back, and the breath fled his lungs. He gasped for air fruitlessly, gagging as he tried to breathe.

  Liam leaned over the opening, his laugh loud and clear. “You literally fell for that one, Runt. I didn't think you'd be so stupid.”

  Sebastian stared up at Liam's amused face. “Help,” he'd wheezed.

  Liam had stared at him for a long time before disappearing from the opening. Sebastian had thought—or hoped—that he'd gone for help. But hours had passed, and he'd seen the light disappear from the sky and the stars emerge one by one. He'd shouted himself hoarse, huddling against the wall with his arms around himself.

  His nurse had found him late that night, and when she and a palace guard had pulled Sebastian free, he discovered that Liam had told the King and Queen that Sebastian had disappeared while they were playing outside the castle walls, and must have inadvertently wandered into the woods. Sebastian had loudly protested, telling them exactly what had happened, but no one believed him.

  No one had ever believed Sebastian the Runt. Always, Liam had been perfect, their paragon.

  Sebastian checked the end of the bolt still impaled in his shoulder, bitterly cursing those who had caused the Amulet's destruction. Had it not been destroyed, he could have healed himself, rejoined his scattered forces, pulled them together again for another charge.

  Jerrus. He needed to find him.

  He pushed himself to his feet, swaying a moment where he stood, gripping a tree for balance. The fighting had diminished below him, but as he worked his way upward, he found skirmishes here and there between the trees, his men still fighting the rebels.

  He pushed past all of them, stumbling upward, his legs moving mechanically because he could no longer feel them.

  Brambles tangled with his legs, and he was only vaguely aware of anything that impeded his progress. He plowed on, his gaze always on the crest at the top of the hill.

  He was so intent on his progress that he nearly stumbled into a full-scale skirmish. A clearing resounded with shouts and screams, and it took Sebastian a second to recognize the shelters that had been erected around the edges.

  This must have been Cedric and Kinna's headquarters.

  He wheeled back into the trees, slamming against the trunk of a thick oak, staying out of sight, his breathing ragged.r />
  He looked around the trunk, surveying the center of action. He decided to cut to the north; it would be a longer trek around, but better than risking being sighted by the rebel troops.

  He took a deep breath and stepped away from the tree.

  He stumbled headlong as something tangled around his leg, and he slammed hard into the ground with a curse.

  A deep moan sounded behind him, stilling his anguished movements. He swung his gaze that way.

  The shadow of a man slumped against a nearby tree. It was too dark to see colors, but the front of the uniform was slick and wet with a dark substance.

  Sebastian moved his gaze to the dark, bearded face, a face as familiar to him as breathing.

  “Lanier.”

  “Aye, Sebastian.”

  “You are injured.”

  “You judge rightly.” Blood bubbled around the man's lips. “And I fear it is a mortal wound.”

  He coughed weakly, and more blood spattered from his mouth.

  Sebastian shrank back in distaste. Lanier removed his hand from the boot where he'd grabbed Sebastian.

  “My apologies, Sebastian. I—I'd hoped—you'd help me.”

  “Why on this wide earth would I do that?” Sebastian asked. His own pain made it difficult for him to speak. He did, nevertheless. “You have betrayed me, Lanier, taken leadership over the rebel armies, and brought great loss to me and my kingdom. Why would I care at all about you?”

  “Because once—Sebastian, we were—friends. Please, on the memory of that friendship, would you—use your—healing Touch? I fear my time will not be long without intervention.” He coughed again, and Sebastian could hear the death rattle in his lungs.

  Sebastian pushed himself to his feet, grimacing with pain. “Thanks to you and your rebel friends,” he muttered as he drew his sword with his uninjured hand, “I no longer have the Healing Touch. So no, Lanier,” he said as he raised his sword, “I will do nothing in the memory of our friendship save this—I will end your life at the hands of an enemy rather than a friend.”

  He plunged the sword downward. Lanier jerked, crying out as the weapon entered him, writhing for several long moments against the pain. The last long exhale took an eternity to come.

  Sebastian pulled his sword free. “May the Stars, in which you had so much faith, take you,” he muttered in contempt.

  He struggled to re-sheath his sword, but his muscles were so weakened with loss of blood that he couldn't steady the weapon long enough to enter the scabbard.

  “Oy!” A voice rang out just behind him in the clearing, and he realized a Dragon had landed—an Ember, and the bright light of the Ember's flames had lit his face.

  “'T'is Sebastian! Your Grace, it is the Lismarian King!”

  The boy on the back of the Ember jerked his attention toward Sebastian, and Sebastian stared full into the face of his brother, Liam.

  Cedric! his mind demanded as he stared at the lad.

  Cedric slid from the Dragon's back, drawing his sword, and Sebastian turned and fled as fast as he could. He looked over his shoulder. He could hear crashing through the woods behind him, but he saw no sign of the Ember's scales. If Cedric pursued him, he ran on foot.

  Sebastian ran faster, seeing a break in the trees. He crashed through.

  It was a rock ledge, and he nearly went over it. Below, far, far below, the spiky tops of the trees lined the bottom of the cliff. Sebastian skidded to a stop, whirling to face Cedric, his sword drawn and ready.

  Behind him, the loud crash of a creature landing on rock sounded, and he turned his head. The Mirage, the she-Dragon who had carried Ayden, landed, and Ayden himself slid off. His color had returned mostly to normal, and his eyes blazed silver in the moonlight.

  He, too, drew his sword, and slid from the Dragon's back. “Off, Luasa. He's mine.”

  Without questioning him, the she-Dragon took to the air again, circling high above.

  Cedric leaped from the woods, his sword drawn as well.

  Sebastian panicked. “You both speak of honor, and yet you know it is not honorable to kill a man by outnumbering him.”

  “Aye,” Cedric said, quietly. “That is why I intend to allow Ayden to go first. We both have grievances against you. Once he avenges his on you, it will be my turn.”

  “He will never avenge himself upon me,” spat Sebastian. “He's but a pup.”

  “Come let this pup sharpen his teeth on you, then,” Ayden growled, striding forward.

  Their swords clashed high above them, and both fought like cornered animals. They swung and slashed, and Sebastian almost forgot the mind-numbing pain of his wrists and shoulder as adrenaline pumped through him.

  He charged, raising his sword, and bringing it down hard. It hit Ayden's sword, but deflected against the back of the boy's head—the flat of it, but it was enough to stagger him. Ayden reeled to the side with a grunt, falling to his hands and knees, shaking his head.

  Cedric's sword interrupted the downward arc of Sebastian's sword over Ayden.

  “I did not say you could kill my friend,” Cedric shouted.

  “You said you would not interrupt.”

  “I said I would let him vent his grievance against you first.” His sword slid past Sebastian's defense and nicked Sebastian's chain mail. Sebastian stumbled backward.

  “You're a coward, just like your father,” Sebastian growled, searching for any way past Cedric's defenses.

  Cedric shook his head, holding his sword with both hands and driving powerful, offensive swings at Sebastian, sending him backward step by step. “Your words hold no power over me now, Sebastian. I have made my peace with who my father was.”

  “You'll be just like him, then,” Sebastian snapped, desperately bringing his sword around at his opponent's arm, a move he never used, because it left the front of him wide open, but he couldn't find another weakness.

  “I'll be every good part that he was meant to be,” Cedric said, “and every evil part, I send with you to your grave.”

  He plunged the sword home. Sebastian's neck, free of its helmet, left him exposed and vulnerable, and the sword did not miss.

  Sebastian teetered on the edge of the cliff, staring wildly at the ghost of Liam.

  “Beneath the Stars, may it be done.” Ayden's deep voice sounded to his left. The tall, silver-eyed man grasped Sebastian's shoulder, whirled him around, and Sebastian felt Ayden's sword point enter his back. A light push was all it took to send him over the edge.

  As the trees approached like sharp pikes, Sebastian closed his eyes. His last thought was of that warm day with Liam outside the castle, and the feeling of sudden helplessness as the ground dropped from beneath him.

  To Liam, cruelty had equaled power, and he had taught that lesson to Sebastian in careful, painful strokes throughout Sebastian's childhood. Never, however, had Sebastian admitted that Liam held such influence over his thoughts and actions.

  Never, that is, until now.

  He'd fallen beneath Liam's influence yet again, Sebastian's own cruelty dying silently beneath the fury and retribution of his nephew and his subjects. This time, there would be no coming back and no revenge.

  Sebastian had never been good enough. Not once. Not ever.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Endings

  Cedric stood in the darkened throne room at ClarenVale. Torches lit the long, vaulted room clear to the outer entrances, but it was empty. Banners hung, one from every creature represented, waving lazily in the draughts that filtered through the palace.

  The kitchens, Cedric knew, were bursting with food, vegetables, roasts, fruit platters, and gourds, pastries and confections for days, all in preparation for tomorrow's coronation.

  Tomorrow, it would be official. Cedric glanced at the two thrones where they stood on the dais. They were smaller and less grand than the one that had been Sebastian's, made of plain wood lacking any ornate designs. It had been Kinna's request. She had felt that it would create a sharp contrast from S
ebastian's nearly painful opulence.

  The two countries—West Ashwynd and Lismaria—would be uniting under one monarchy for the first time in history, and he, Cedric, together with his twin sister, would be the shepherds to usher this new era into existence.

  I'm afraid. He clenched his palms, wiping them against his breeches, surveying the hall once again.

  “I'm proud of you, you know.”

  Cedric smiled, turning to the shadows where Ashleen stood. “I've done little to deserve it.”

  She approached him, sliding her fingers through his when she reached him. She studied his expression. “You are not your father, Cedric, and you've finally realized it. You didn't give into the temptation of the Amulet, and you are working to turn this kingdom into a just and fair one again beneath your rule. There's a lot to be proud of.”

  Cedric brushed a loose curl of black hair behind her ear. “It's the beginning of a new part of my life, certainly.” His hand paused, and his thumb brushed across her soft cheek, over the scar she had earned in her last struggle with Sebastian. “You're beautiful, you know.”

  She smiled, and the scar tugged upward. “Only in your eyes,” she said. “To most, this would be a disfigurement.”

  “Never.” Cedric's hand fell away, and he took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “Would you—come with me into my new life?”

  Her dark eyes widened, and her breath caught. “You—you're asking—”

  “I'm asking you to be my wife, Ashleen. I wish to wed you.”

  Silence pulsed between them, and she blinked the moisture that had gathered in her eyes. “Of course. Yes, Cedric, I would be honored to be your wife.”

  He spread his hand across her scarred cheek, pulling her to him, sliding his other hand behind her, tangling his fingers in her loosened hair. Her lips beckoned him, and he kissed her, gently. Her touch was full of promise, of life, of victory; he was no longer separated from her by the ghost of his father and his uncle. He gathered her closer, and she clung to him, trembling as she gave herself to him.