Emeren’s eyes flashed at her, fury burning amidst the fear.
“Oh yes,” the woman went on. “The visions were quite clear. Had he survived his encounter with Al Sorna, Seliesen Maxtor Aluran would have orchestrated the assassination of your Emperor, blaming it on agents of the Unified Realm, sparking another war, a war that raged for years, sapping the strength of the empire and making him a monster, the greatest tyrant in Alpiran history, and the doom of his people. For when our forces landed, there would have been scant strength to oppose them.”
“My husband,” the Lady Emeren grated, “was a good man.”
“Your husband lusted for the flesh of other men and found you repellent.” The woman’s gaze shifted to the boy at Frentis’s side. “Surprised he managed to get a child on you though. Still, duty makes us perform the most vile acts. Take my darling betrothed here. I know what I’m about to make him do will cause him great and terrible pain, but I will do it. For it is my duty to educate him in the nature of our bond. He doesn’t love me, you see. To love a man and not have that love returned is . . .” She sighed, offering a sad smile to Emeren. “Well, I think you know. The blood of your son, spilled in front of his mother’s eyes, will turn his soul a darker shade, bind us closer. For every time we kill together our bond grows. I know he feels it, my song tells me so.”
The sickening fear gripping Frentis deepened into terror as he saw a tear trace down the woman’s cheek, her eyes wide in adoration as she gazed at him. “Take his fingers first, my love. Nice and slow . . .”
. . . the throbbing was almost continuous now, barely pausing between each stab of agony . . .
He tugged the boy to his knees, tightening his grip, forcing the fingers apart, placing the blade of his dagger against the knuckle of his smallest digit . . .
Something made a loud crashing sound downstairs, followed by a fierce shout in Alpiran.
“HEVREN!” the Lady Emeren screamed, putting every ounce of her strength into the cry, straining against her bonds, neck muscles bulging.
The instant thunder of boots on marble could be heard through the open door.
“Oh bother!” the woman sighed, springing from the bed and moving to the door, drawing her sword. “No time for play, after all, beloved. I’ll be downstairs. Make sure of them both and don’t linger.”
Alone with them, Frentis took hold of the boy’s hair, drawing his head back, placing the dagger against his exposed throat . . .
The throb exploded in his side, a nova of all-consuming pain, burning every thought from his head and swamping the binding. He staggered, letting go of the boy, reeling in a welter of pain.
The boy ran to his mother, tugging at the bonds that bound her to the chair. “Unteh!” she shouted at him, shaking her head frantically. “Emmah forgalla. Unteh! UNTEH!”
He won’t run, Frentis thought, seeing the boy continue to tug at the ropes.
He was surprised to find he could move, despite the pain raging in him from head to toe. He could move. He took a step, he actually took a step of his own volition, though the binding still compelled him to slit the throats of this boy and his mother. It was still there, flaring away, but compared to the pain that exploded from his side, it was little more than an irritant.
From downstairs came the sound of combat, multiple voices raised in challenge and fury, steel clashing, then a loud whoosh, like a first spark touched to oil-soaked kindling on a pyre. Screams followed and a pall of smoke started to fog the hallway beyond the door.
Frentis stumbled towards Emeren and the boy, limbs twitching as he fought for control through the pain. He collapsed against her, a shout of agony erupting from him to wash over her face. She twisted away in disgust and terror, screaming again as his dagger came up, wavering as he strove to control it. The boy launched himself at Frentis, kicking, punching, biting. He hardly felt it, focusing all his will on the dagger, bringing its trembling tip onto the rope across Emeren’s chest. One final spasm of muscle and it was done, the rope parting and falling away. He released the dagger, letting it fall into her lap, rolling onto his back, convulsing in pain.
The binding was flaring with a new ferocity, the pain in his side slowly diminishing. Not enough, he thought, teeth gritted as he writhed on the floor. The seed didn’t grow enough.
He was aware Emeren was standing over him, dagger in hand. The look on her face was one of mingled rage and confusion. “S-sorry . . .” he sputtered, spittle flying from his lips, “So . . . s-sorry . . .”
Her eyes bore into him as her son tugged at her hand. “Entahla!”
Frentis wanted to scream at her to run, but the resurgence of the binding left no room for further forbidden action. She gave Frentis a final glare of frustration and fled, lifting the boy into her arms and running from the room. She turned to the left, wisely opting not to take the stairs to the lobby.
The binding closed on him like the fist of a giant, forcing him to his feet with an implacable command: HELP HER!
He ran for the stairs, sword drawn, descending to the lobby to find the woman locked in combat with a white-cloaked guardsman. The walls of the lobby were covered in fire, thick black smoke blanketing the ceiling. The woman attacked the guardsman with every vestige of skill she could muster, her blood-streaked mouth snarling, but he was no easy opponent, fending off her blows with rapid counterstrokes of his sabre. There was something familiar about him, a tall black-skinned man with pepper-grey hair and the lean weathered features of a veteran. Catching sight of Frentis he grimaced, side-stepped a lunge from the woman and launched himself towards the stairs.
Frentis parried the sabre thrust and countered with a slash to the guardsman’s eyes, but he was quick, dodging past the blade with inches to spare, leaping up several stairs to turn and face them. He met Frentis’s gaze, eyes bright with desperation and fury, torn between continuing the fight or running to check on the fate of the lady and her son.
They’re safe, Frentis wanted to say, but of course, the binding wouldn’t let him.
A shout caused him to turn back to the woman, finding her battling two more guards who had braved the flames now licking around the open door. The grey-haired guardsman saw his chance and thrust at Frentis. He managed to twist away before the sabre point found its target but the edge left a shallow cut on his back as it sliced through his black cotton shirt.
He launched a kick at the guardsman’s chest, the boot impacting on his breastplate and sending him sprawling. There was no time to press his advantage as the woman called him to her side. She retreated back from her two opponents, Frentis stepping in to fend them off as she sheathed her sword and pointed both clenched fists at the nearest wall. She screamed as the flames burst forth, two columns of raging fire striking the wall and blasting through in a haze of cinders. She collapsed as the flames faded from her hands, blood streaming in red rivers from her nose, ears, eyes and mouth.
Frentis caught her before she could fall, lifting her onto his shoulder, parrying a final thrust from one of the guardsmen then sprinting through the hole she had blasted in the wall.