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  “I don’t know,” Tiberius said.

  “Well, you better be ready to do whatever it takes to stop her,” Lexi said. “Maybe that’s why you have to wrestle with this now, so that you can do what has to be done when the time comes.”

  Tiberius pondered that for a moment. It didn’t make him feel any better about facing the raiders or about facing Princess Ariel, but he knew he couldn’t back away from either task.

  “I guess there’s no sense waiting around,” Tiberius said. “We better get on with it.”

  Chapter 7

  Leonosis

  News of Prince Argo’s death swept through the castle like a summer storm. The poor boy had been sickly for some time, but his death was sudden just the same. Everyone mourned, not because they loved their prince, but because King Aethel had no other heir. The lineage of kings was passed from father to son, and in the absence of an heir, the earls would elect a new king, usually from among themselves.

  Leonosis understood what was happening, even if he was no longer in control of his own body. In fact, everything seemed to be falling into place. It had been his plan to force Princess Ariel into marrying him. He had hoped the ailing prince would die. And then he could convince the other earls that he deserved to be the High King. Only now all Leonosis wanted was to return to Avondale, but it was much too late for that.

  Draggah was in total control of Leonosis now. He would say things and do things that made Leonosis cringe, yet the earl had no way to stop the shadow spirit. Draggah could read his mind and often spoke to Leonosis alone, mocking the wretched earl’s innermost thoughts or tormenting him for something he felt.

  At other times Draggah seemed to fade away, although his presence was never really gone from Leonosis’ consciousness. Still, during those times Leonosis was in full control of his actions. He’d considered fleeing Sparlan Citadel, but Draggah had inflicted unbearable agony on Leonosis whenever he resisted the demon’s control. There was no doubt in Leonosis’ mind that Draggah could kill him at will.

  King Aethel had been annoyed by Leonosis’ presence, but the demon was forcing Princess Ariel to convince her father that they were in love. King Aethel was a weak-willed man. He had been under Ariel’s magical influence for some time, and the death of his son was a crushing blow to the monarch. He had no strength left to resist his daughter’s wishes. And so, just before Prince Argo died, the king sadly announced his daughter’s betrothal.

  The earls were summoned, and the citadel was made ready. There was talk among the people who lived under the fortress in the vast city carved into the mountain that the marriage was too soon, but Draggah was in control of things now and he grew weary of waiting. Grentz, the Sword Master of Avondale and Leonosis’ only companion on this trip, was sent back to Avondale in the massive airship to fetch Leonosis’ mother and brother. The marriage ceremony was to be held in just two weeks.

  Each day Leonosis spent time with Princess Ariel. The demon and his host no longer needed to hide in the depths of the castle. There were times when the princess seemed weak or at least timid around Leonosis. In those times, when she was vulnerable and Leonosis was in control of himself, they would commiserate together. The princess’ insatiable curiosity had led her to the archives where she discovered a vast horde of books on magic. Her father had spoiled her until the birth of his son, and when he then seemed indifferent to his daughter, Ariel turned to magic as a way of regaining the power she felt she’d lost from her father’s attentions. She had no idea what she was doing and unleashed powers she couldn’t control. Now those powers controlled her and Leonosis and would soon be in control of the entire kingdom.

  “Once the earls arrive, we will see that the two of you are properly married.”

  It was Leonosis speaking, but Draggah controlled him fully at that moment. The demon always referred to Leonosis as a separate entity, even though the two of them were one and the same now.

  “Plan for a week of feasting,” he continued. “Make it a lavish affair. I want no detail left to chance. Is that understood?”

  Princess Ariel nodded. Her father was mourning, so she had taken control of the marriage plans. Everything was falling neatly into place just as Draggah had said it would. Killing her younger brother had sapped Ariel of any resistance to the shadow spirit’s plans.

  “Now, we shall begin spreading the rumors of the king’s ill health.”

  “My father,” Ariel said sadly.

  “He must be removed so that I can ascend the throne,” Leonosis said. “The earls will be assembled. Our plans must not be delayed.”

  Tears formed in Ariel’s eyes, but she did not speak. Draggah continued as Leonosis was held mute within his own body.

  “Three days after the prince is buried, we will strike. Then, we shall work our necromancy.”

  “I’m uncertain,” Ariel said.

  “You will be ready,” the demon growled. “Make your preparations.”

  “I must see to the wedding details and prepare the most complex spell I’ve ever cast?”

  “I will ensure the power is available. Do not speak to me of your human frailties. Did you not summon me? Was this not your wish?”

  “The cost is too high,” she said as the tears streaked down her face.

  “You will obey me, child,” Leonosis growled. “Or I will banish your soul to the nether realm.”

  Leonosis was horrified. All his life he’d attended ceremonies at the temple in Avondale. He’d heard all the stories of Addoni the Life Giver and Rastimus the Deceiver. Addoni had banished Rastimus to a place of darkness and lashed the fallen immortal to a giant furnace where he was forced to work the billows day and night. In the afterlife, the evil are sent to Rastimus’ forge where the immortal tortures their souls in eternal fire. But Leonosis had never really believed in Addoni or in the stories of Rastimus. His concern was pleasure and power. He rarely gave thoughts of death or punishments for his selfish actions any real legitimacy. But Draggah was a creature that was not of this world. He had no physical form, yet he was a powerful being who had usurped Leonosis’ body. If he threatened eternal damnation, Leonosis took him at his word.

  “Now, we must make our appearances, and we must set those around us at ease,” the spirit went on. “Clean yourself and join your father. It will be expected.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the princess said.

  Leonosis watched as she left. The demon sent ribbons of pain lancing through Leonosis’ mind. The young earl screamed, but the sound never made its way out of his body. Nor did the deep, rasping laughter of the demon. If anyone had seen Leonosis in that moment, they might have thought him dead, despite the fact that he was standing in the middle of the room.

  “Do not think that the girl is yours, mortal,” Draggah said, speaking directly into Leonosis’ mind. “The princess must be unblemished for the great magic. She will one day rend the heavens and make death her slave, but for now she must suffer. It is the only path to true power.”

  “I won’t help you,” Leonosis said, but his mind had been knocked off the throne of his body. Draggah was ensconced in the seat of power, while Leonosis’ consciousness shuddered in the corner of his mind.

  “You have no choice.”

  The pain erupted again. This time Draggah swept himself away, like a shadow disappearing from the light. Leonosis felt the power of bodily control return and with it came even greater pain. He fell to the floor, writhing for several minutes. He had to bite his fist to keep from screaming in agony. He had cried out the first time Draggah had punished his disobedience, and servants had come running to see what was distressing the King’s noble guest. Healers had been summoned and the King notified, but Draggah had resumed control of Leonosis and explained it all away. Since then, Leonosis knew that making noise would only make the pain worse, and it was on the edge of unbearable to begin with.

  After several moments the pain began to lessen. Leonosis lay on the cold stone floor, the reeds that had been spread so neatl
y were now broken and scattered. He slowly got to his feet. In those moments when he truly felt alone, he pondered suicide, but Draggah had warned him against such extreme efforts to be free of the demon’s control.

  He went to the table where a basin of clean water waited. He washed himself and dressed in clean clothes. The mourning feast would begin soon. The mourning feast was usually a celebration of a great man’s deeds, but Prince Argo was only a child. There would be no tales of greatness, no songs of his valor or testimonies of the lives he changed. There would only be wailing and sadness, songs of lament and loss. Still, Leonosis would be expected to attend, as would the nobles in the King’s court and the highest ranking citizens that lived in the city below the stronghold.

  Leonosis went slowly from his suite of rooms and down a long corridor. The King’s hall was bare. The tapestries had been removed, revealing dull gray stone all along the large rectangular room. The king’s high table was draped with a black cloth, and there was no greenery, no decorations, just long rows of benches next to bare tables, all filled with sad faces. The priests had sprinkled ashes into their hair and beards, so that they took on a gray, deathly pallor. Nobles and guests all sat in awkward silence. Leonosis took his place on the far end of the King’s table, where he waited like everyone else.

  After several minutes Princess Ariel arrived with her mother, who was weeping and leaning heavily on her daughter. Ariel escorted her mother to the king’s table, and they sat together, hiding their swollen faces behind dark veils.

  When the king arrived, he walked solemnly to his place, but everyone could see his red, puffy eyes and knew that he was just a man who had lost his only son. When he sat, servants hurried forward. They brought out loaves of stale, bitter bread, bowls of weak broth, and pitchers of tepid water. Normally the mourning feast was a fine affair, but the King had no heart for revelry and did not want his subjects to enjoy any part of his son’s demise.

  The king broke his loaf, dipped the bread into the broth, and ate. His subjects did likewise, and Leonosis saw the surprise on their faces. They were bewildered and uncertain of how to behave. Leonosis could relate to their consternation; he too was unsure how to act or why he should mourn the sickly prince. After several minutes, the King rose again and left the feasting hall. Murmuring broke out softly down the long benches. Ariel and her mother stayed in the hall but did not eat. Leonosis pushed his own food away. He would find wine and something more palatable in the kitchens if he had to. He knew for certain that the king was not abstaining from wine. The monarch was rarely seen without a goblet in his hand.

  On the citadel’s walls, a double guard had been posted. Not due to fear of attack, but to honor the death of the prince. While one soldier stood facing the cold mists of the blighted lands, the other stood facing in toward the castle, a black cloth draped from his spear, which was held out so that the cloth hung down. It was a salute to a king, and despite the fact that the little prince had not even been well enough to run and play in the castle halls (much less train with his soldiers or rule under his father’s watchful eye), they had been ordered to salute him with all the dignity and respect of a great ruler.

  Leonosis made his way down to the kitchens. He passed weeping servants and distressed looking cooks.

  “Where is the wine?” he barked at one of them.

  “We were ordered not to serve wine, my lord.”

  “I don’t care what you were ordered. I’ll not eat bitter bread and tepid water. The King has lost his appetite along with his mind. Bring me food and bring it swiftly.”

  The servant nodded and hurried away. Leonosis felt no guilt at berating the servant. He was noble-born, and she was a lowly cook. He trusted that keeping the servants busy during such a trying time was kinder than letting them wallow in despair.

  “My lord,” the servant said in a fearful voice as she returned. “I have cold chicken, but nothing more. The king has had the fires put out of the ovens, and there are soldiers guarding the spirits.”

  Leonosis wanted to spew more venom at the servant but he knew it was a waste of time. The poor woman was terrified. He waved at her to follow him and then walked briskly through the kitchens toward the great storerooms, where food from the other eight cities was stored. The citadel did not produce its own food or wine; the other cities sent taxes of food, wine, and precious materials to the King. Leonosis knew there were long storerooms full of ale and wine, enough to last the entire castle for years if the shipments suddenly stopped.

  There were two guards standing in front of the door that led to the nearest storeroom. Leonosis didn’t bother to speak. He walked briskly up to the first soldier and kicked him hard between the legs. The soldier stared in disbelief as his partner fell to the floor in agony. Leonosis had snatched away the long spear that the soldier had been holding, and with one quick, efficient stroke, smashed the butt end of the weapon into the other soldier’s temple.

  “Now drag them out of the way and fetch me some wine!” Leonosis shouted.

  Chapter 8

  Rafe

  His strength improved throughout the day. He stretched out in the back of the wagon after a lunch that consisted of water. He woke two hours later, hungry and ready for a fight. They had kept the wagon moving all day, circling wide around the camp, just beyond sight of the sentries Bu’yorgi had posted.

  It was an hour before sunset when they finally stopped. Tiberius left Lexi and Olyva with the wagon, while Tiberius and Rafe slowly moved toward the camp. The entire band of raiders were watching for Tiberius and his companions to return from the other direction, so no one saw the two men walking slowly toward the Hoskali encampment. Tiberius had cast a spell of concealment over them as a precaution, but from what Rafe could see, it was unnecessary. They were just inside the camp when night fell. There was a moment of deep gloom that quickly turned to total darkness. Fires were kindled and watches set. The Hoskali were accustomed to night raids. The darkness of the blighted lands allowed the nomadic people to approach other camps unseen, where they would otherwise be spotted from a long distance across the empty prairie in daylight.

  Rafe wanted to attack the raiders, but Tiberius insisted that they wait. Rafe was well on the road to recovery but he had to admit that even at full strength he wasn’t a match for forty men.

  “How long do we wait?” Rafe asked.

  “A few hours, maybe more.”

  “Can’t you cast your spell now?”

  “Yes,” Tiberius said. “But it takes a few moments for people to fall asleep, and the whole band is spread out. Some would be bound to notice that the raiders were falling asleep early and raise the alarm.”

  “Let them raise it,” Rafe said. “I’d rather crack skulls than sit idle for hours.”

  “You need the rest.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “Yes,” Tiberius said. “So that’s another reason to wait.”

  “You drive me crazy, Ti.”

  “Look, we know what we have to do. There’s no sense in speeding it along.”

  “What if your plan doesn’t work?”

  “It will.”

  “And if the Hoskali refuse to kill them?”

  “That’s their business.”

  “It’ll be ours if they come back,” Rafe warned. “You can’t always forgive your enemies.”

  “I agree, but I won’t slaughter them in their sleep, and we can’t pick them off a few at a time.”

  “One big spell and you could wipe them all out.”

  “I won’t do it,” Tiberius said. “We couldn’t guarantee that we killed them all and we might hurt some innocent people along the way. Bu’yorgi has to pay for what he’s done, perhaps some of his closest men — but not the entire group.”

  “I respectfully disagree.”

  “This isn’t a war, Rafe. These people raid — it’s part of their culture.”

  “No, poisoning each other isn’t what they do. It isn’t the Hoskali way,” Rafe said, repeating
the words they had heard from Te’sumee so often. “Bu’yorgi led his troops into a battle and lost. Then he retaliated, risking the lives of the entire tribe. For all we know we may find a field full of corpses over there.”

  Rafe pointed to where the sick Hoskali had been laid out by Olyva.

  “And if we do, we’ll reconsider our plan, but for now, we subdue them. And they’re hunters, not troops.”

  “I don’t see the distinction,” Rafe said.

  He wasn’t really angry with Tiberius or their plan, but sitting and waiting was difficult. He had learned patience in the earl’s war band and had even risen steadily through the ranks, but waiting on fight was aways difficult. He was anxious, and even though most of the raiders would be easily captured after Tiberius cast a sleeping spell, there was always the chance that one or two might not. In that case, Rafe was there to protect his friend.

  They watched from within one of the abandoned tents as the raiders ate and drank. Rafe’s belly rumbled with hunger, and his mouth watered at the sight of great hunks of meat that were being sliced up and passed out to the raiders.

  As the night slowly passed, Rafe tried to nap but he was too wound up. The tent was dark, and there was little chance that they would be seen, but Rafe spent most of his time keeping watch just the same. Tiberius slept, and Rafe waited as long as he could stand. The fires were burning low, and the raiders who weren’t on guard duty sat in small groups.

  “I think it’s time,” Rafe said, shaking his friend awake. “Things aren’t going to get any better than they are right now.”

  Tiberius stretched and yawned. Then he began to chant a spell. Rafe watched anxiously. The restless raiders soon began to yawn, and in a matter of moments, every raider in sight was asleep.

  “That was the easy part,” Tiberius said. “Let’s go.”

  They crawled out of the tent and hurried over to a pile of plunder that Tiberius had seen the night before. There was a large coil of rope there, and Rafe cut sections of rope while Tiberius tied up the sleeping raiders. It was not quick work, but they were diligent, and soon nearly half of the enemy warriors were bound hand and foot.