“To me,” she said.
The guard in the room stood at attention then took a step toward her. His fear of her, of her power and magic, wafted over her like air pushed from a bellows. Her eyes flickered toward the man and she put an effort into restraining herself from killing him.
“Not you, idiot,” she said, breathless as she pushed herself to stand.
Halfway across the fortress, a twist of fog extracted itself from under a wooden door with a rusted iron ring and raced through the streets, finding its way back to her.
She stared at the guard, loathed the fear in his eyes as he struggled to keep his gaze from straying to her naked body. She didn’t have to worry about the undead soldiers leering at her like this, but they had better uses than having them watch over her in a trance. The man looked back at her; a bead of sweat rolled from under his helmet, down his temple, the path it left increasing her ire. She raised her hand toward him, not sure what she intended, but before she spoke the words to determine his fate, the mist boiled through the window and crossed the room in an instant. It wrapped across her shoulders like a shawl, enveloped her body. She tossed her head back as it entered her like a welcome lover.
“Ohhh.” The sound shuddered out of her chest at the feeling of wholeness, the disappointment of being trapped within herself.
The Archon lowered her head to look at the guard again. His gaze lay on her body, stealing a glimpse when he thought she wouldn’t know, and he snapped his gaze back to hers when he realized she was looking. Her mouth crinkled into a frown, but she lowered her hand.
“Bring me Hahn Perdaro,” she ordered and turned away from the guard.
Let him look.
She heard the clank of his armor as he bowed, then hurried out of the room. The Archon moved toward the window. The cold night air caressed her flesh, made her body ache for the freedom she’d felt, but freedom would have to wait. First, there would be death.
***
Hahn Perdaro leaned the weapon against the wall outside the door, then adjusted his doublet and smoothed his thinning hair before reaching for the door handle. He paused to breathe deep and put a smile on his face, then pushed the door open and strode through into the room beyond.
An unusual odor hung in the air and the room was hot-far hotter than the Archon normally liked it. Many nights he’d shivered instead of sleeping as she insisted on leaving the shutters agape. He hoped the warmth in the room and the gift he’d brought her would allow him to sleep well this night.
At first, Hahn didn’t see the Archon. He looked around the room, his smile waning, but then he saw her by the window, her red gown blending with the tapestry on the wall beside it. He renewed his smile and stepped forward but, when she faced him, her expression chased any joy from his lips.
“What is it, my love? Has something happened? Did you find the blood-bearer?”
“No, I did not.” She moved from the window to the center of the room, avoiding the bearskin on the floor as she did, and stood by the brazier glowing with embers. “But I found something else.”
Hahn opened his mouth to ask what, but gulped a breath and kept from speaking. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, knowing silence was often the best course of action with the Archon, though he found it difficult, and waited for her to speak.
“I have seen Therrador and the general-Sienhin.”
She put her hands behind her back and paced first to her left, then back to the right, her movement lithe and graceful. Hahn found himself mesmerized by each step she took and had to shake his head to free himself of her body’s spell to hear her words.
“Saw them?”
“They plot against me. I had thought having the boy would keep Therrador from doing so.”
“But we don’t have the boy. He-”
“Therrador cannot know that,” she yelled, spinning to face him.
The ferocity in her voice startled Hahn Perdaro enough it took him a second to recover and settle his expression back to one of concern instead of fear.
But she won’t hurt me. She loves me. “Yes, yes. Of course he can’t. So he risks all for the kingdom.”
“He thinks I do not know his plan.”
“But you do.” He tried not to make the statement sound like a question.
“He is sending the general to the capital to raise more troops. He will make his way out of the fortress through a tunnel tonight.”
Hahn’s brow creased. “Both Turesti and Dondon said he would leave last night. We went-”
“They tricked us, you fool. The general fed the councilors incorrect information to see whom he could trust.” Her eyes bore into him. “They tricked you.”
Perdaro raised his hand and rubbed his chin nervously, eyes darting away. “But Turesti said-”
“Forget what he said. What are you going to do to correct your failure?”
”He…he must be stopped.”
The Archon nodded and a menacing grin crawled onto her lips. “You must stop him.”
Perdaro’s breath caught in his throat. “Me? But I’m not-”
“You. You will intercept the general in the tunnel. Take five soldiers out onto the plains and enter from the outside; that way you will not be chasing him. He will come to you.”
The Voice of the People swallowed hard. Sir Alton Sienhin was a battle-hardened warrior not to be taken lightly, and Perdaro didn’t relish the idea of facing him, even with five soldiers at his side. The odds would be in Hahn’s favor, but against the general, the chance for death was great.
He opened his mouth, on the edge of begging to be let out of this duty, when he remembered the gift he’d brought. Perhaps, if he gave it to her, she would be so happy with him, she would reconsider.
He lowered his head and backed toward the door.
“I have a gift for you.”
He reached through the doorway and retrieved the weapon from where he’d left it leaning against the wall, awaiting the perfect moment to present it without knowing that saving it for the right time might save his life. Hahn reentered the room with it held behind his back, careful to keep the blade from touching his leg.
“What is it?” the Archon demanded, impatience plain in her voice.
Hahn’s heart sank. He’d hoped a gift would win her over.
Perhaps it still will.
He pulled the weapon from behind his back and held it out to her, the hilt held in one hand, the tip of the black blade resting on the palm of the other. Red runes glowed dimly along the sword’s length. The Archon’s eyes widened and Perdaro felt hope return to his heart.
“Troops coming from the homeland found it and brought it with them. When I heard of its beauty and workmanship, I knew it to be a treasure you should have.” He bowed slightly at the waist and held the sword out toward her.
“The Mourning Sword.”
“Yes,” Perdaro agreed raising his eyes but remaining bowed. “It belonged to the Shaman.”
“And more powerful magicians before him.”
Hahn straightened and smiled. “And now it can belong to you: the most powerful magician.”
The Archon crossed the space between them and regarded the sword for a second before grasping it mid-blade, her fingers wrapped around and over the edge. He let go and the runes glowed brighter as her blood flowed along the blade.
“I have a gift for you, too, Hahn.”
She tossed the sword onto the bed, then reached beneath it to pull out a long, straight staff. The narrow tip clicked against the floor and the wider, knobbed end hovered a few inches taller than the Archon’s height. The wood was light and unmarked by carving or scripture.
“What is this?” Hahn asked. He tried to smile with delight, but his lips only quivered.
Instead of answering, Sheyndust whispered under her breath and the knobbed end of the staff began to glow green, the light seeming to collect to it from invisible places around the room. After a few seconds, her words ceased and the glow remained.