REVENANT (Descendants Saga) Page 3

  Again, she spoke in lyrical tones. This music to my ears caused me to move. I felt swept away on the current of a mighty river. Resistance was futile. I had the sense that to do so would also cause me pain, and I did not want to feel pain. The pleasure of obedience was far better.

  I walked across the room to the desk near the windows. There was no need to search it. She had instructed me on the exact drawer to open. Inside, I found a pistol. I picked it up without wondering why she wanted me to do so. Every command made perfect sense, like a dream where any manner of situation becomes completely normal.

  I raised the pistol to my temple, pressing the barrel there. It felt cool to the touch, but her words reassured me that there was no cause for alarm. This would make us both very happy. Cause and effect no longer mattered. I gave no thought to what would happen when this trigger was pulled.

  Her words filled my mind, but I could distinguish nothing. Only the music filled my thoughts, holding sway over every action. I cocked the hammer and heard it click into position. At the very last, I knew that what I was about to do would show my complete devotion to her happiness. Pulling the trigger would bring her joy.

  Oliver appeared in the room, running toward me, swinging his wolf’s head cane. Why had he intruded? There was no room in my world for him now. No one was allowed to interfere. There was urgency in the girl’s voice. She was not pleased. I had to do something—anything—to make her happy again.

  Lightning flashed from Oliver’s fingertips as he ran toward me. She was in pain. I had not acted fast enough to her demands. I pulled the trigger on the revolver and heard the shot fire—a deafening sound that made my ears ring. I felt pain in my head. Something had happened. I was falling, as though all of my physical strength had been stolen away.

  Oliver was beside me, supporting me. His face had become a mask of horror and concern. His lips moved, but the ringing in my ears had not subsided. My thoughts were muddled. I wondered where the girl was. Had I pleased her? Why had her music gone from my mind, leaving only pain and confusion behind?

  By the time my hearing partially returned, Oliver had left me in the desk chair. White light flashed upon the walls creating terrifying silhouettes of battle. I turned in my dizzy state to find Oliver hurling bolts of electricity at the angelic girl. In turn, she dodge around the room, flying and manipulating furniture, casting it toward Oliver. Neither of them was paying attention to me.

  I stood, calling Malak-esh to my hand. The lion’s head cane appeared from my storage on the spiritual plane. I willed it to form the mercurial blade. It obeyed immediately. As the girl passed overhead again, I drove the blade into her belly.

  Her attacks on Oliver ceased immediately. The levitating furniture fell to the floor haphazardly. And Oliver stood still, watching as she fell onto the desk before me.

  She was still alive, gasping for breath against the pain of her wound. I placed my hand on her throat, raising Malak-esh over my head. I had the understanding now that she had bewitched me somehow through her gaze.

  I closed my eyes and addressed her. “Who are you—what are you?” I asked angrily.

  “A sprite,” Oliver replied when the girl refused to speak. “Their gaze is like a siren’s song—powerful magic.”

  I did not open my eyes, though in the back of my mind I desperately wanted to reconnect with the beauty of her appearance and the loveliness of her voice. “Answer me now, and you might yet live,” I said. “Where is Grayson Stone?”

  The sprite waited a moment, considering my threat. Finally, I felt her trying to speak, but I would not look. I loosened my grip only a bit, so she could do so.

  “America,” she said. Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

  “Why?” Oliver demanded.

  “Strike me down, if you must, but I was not told,” she said. “It was not given for me to know my master’s plans—only to dispose of you when you arrived.”

  The lyrical tone, I had heard in my mind before, was gone now. The sprite’s voice was like ice—a serpent’s lullaby. There was no music in it at all.

  I released my grip on the girl’s throat. “I should not spare you, but I will.”

  Oliver stepped forward. “What are you doing?” he protested. “This sprite cannot be allowed to live.”

  I opened my eyes to Oliver, but still did not dare to glance at the sprite, fearing her sway over me might return. I noticed in my peripheral vision when she sat up on the desktop, clutching the wound in her belly. I assumed she would live, if she was able to leave and receive help. Oliver glared at me, angrily.

  “Would your master, Grayson Stone, show you mercy in my place?” I asked the sprite.

  “Never,” she replied icily.

  “I am not Grayson Stone,” I said. “Now, go.”

  We deferred our gazes while the sprite extricated herself from the desk. She did so with difficulty, but still managed. She did not levitate, and walking seemed almost foreign to her. A portal appeared to convey her away from the estate—whether it had been established prior to our meeting I could not say.

  “Should we follow after?” I asked.

  “That would be unwise, I think,” Oliver replied. He was still fuming. “How could you let her go, Brody?”

  I sat down in the desk chair again and sighed heavily, trying to clear my head. “When we give up mercy, we’ll be no better than they are,” I said.

  Oliver let the matter go.

  My head was still aching. I felt my ear and came away with blood on my fingertips. “Did I shoot myself?”

  Oliver grinned. “A near miss,” he said. “I managed to knock the gun away just in time. Though, I imagine you may have burst your eardrum.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “I have some ideas, but I’m not sure,” he said.

  “At least we know what happened to Grayson Stone,” I offered. “But why would he go to America?”

  “Curious to say the least,” Oliver said. “In the meantime, we still require answers. You mentioned Uriah’s brother taking charge of his body while you were injured?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “I never got the opportunity to pay my respects.”

  “Then we’ll do that now,” Oliver said, rubbing his hands together. “Our next stop is Grim Hope.”

  Inconvenient

  Kron drummed the fingers of his right hand against the pommel of his sword. His new hand sat in his lap curled into a fist. He waited impatiently for Tarik to return with his report. Only six months into his reign as king, and already there were problems to contend with.

  Following his attack upon Westminster, where the vampires had thought to take control of London, Kron had recuperated quickly. His people required leadership, and he was the man for the job. Despite the terrible injuries he had sustained, Kron had managed to prevent Tiberius from making London his capital.

  Coming home, after his therapy with Laish, he had been hailed as a war hero by the politicians and the people. They had hope for the future of the Lycan race. Kron meant for that hope not to be disturbed by the problem he now faced.

  Tarik arrived at Kron’s royal apartment with its view overlooking Tidus’s glory. He entered and bowed to his king. “My lord, I have brought the report you requested,” Tarik said.

  “And?” Kron said, dreading the news.

  “Many people saw the princess during the raid,” he said. “The news of her return is spreading like wildfire among the people. We cannot contain it.”

  “I knew it,” he said, disgusted. “If I kill her now, the people will surely rebel against me.”

  Kron paced back and forth for a few moments, considering his predicament. He had to hold on to the momentum already established with his subjects. At the very least, he faced impeachment. At most, Sophia might know of his involvement in her father’s murder. He would be put to death, if she came back to power.

  For precisely this reason, Kron had not gone to see Sophia for himself. He did not know how much information she ha
d about his rise to power. Already, she had managed to secure a release to one of the wings of the palace. None of the guards were willing to hold her in confinement within the prison, just in case she turned out to be the one to rule.

  “You’ll have to go,” Tarik said finally.

  “I already know this,” Kron spat. “I need a plan—some way to undermine her before the people, some accusation that would stick.”

  “There is the vampire woman and the elf she came into the city with,” Tarik suggested.

  “I’ve been pondering that very thing,” Kron admitted. “But how to make her appear guilty of some real crime—that’s the problem. The people will not care that she was simply escorted by friends from the other clans as she attempted to enter Tidus. That makes me look like I was trying to stop her from returning.”

  “Yes, I see your point,” Tarik said.

  A sudden epiphany lit Kron’s face. “Her weapon!”

  “The bow she was carrying?”

  “The same weapon used to kill the king!” Kron proclaimed.

  “Was it?” Tarik asked.

  His gaze bore down on his general. “It’s a bow, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, my lord, but to say that she murdered her own father?”

  “It’s very simple,” Kron said, pacing around the room again, formulating his scheme. “She wanted the throne for herself.”

  “Forgive me, sire, but the people would never believe it of Sophia,” Tarik protested. “They have only ever known kindness from her. She is as dearly beloved as her father was.”

  Kron grinned. “We have no need to convince the people—only the council is necessary. And they have no desire to go back to the ways of Lycean’s rule.”

  “You’re sure they’ll go along with it?”

  Kron leveled his gaze on Tarik. “I know someone who can make them go along with it.”

  Tarik had cobbled together an armed guard to provide an escort to the king as he went to meet with the princess in her apartment. She had been placed there under a dubious house arrest until matters of her return were fully resolved. There were few soldiers left in Tidus at the moment, since Kron had begun a campaign against the elf city of Xandrea.

  In the wake of Brody West’s involvement in bringing the vampires to London, and the resulting tragic defeat at Westminster, the king had seen it necessary to have the young man and anyone connected with his escapades turned over for crimes against the Lycan people.

  Donatus and his elves had been found to be harboring them and refused to turn over the princess as well. Kron had immediately ordered an attack on Xandrea—though it had produced little results. The city was well protected, despite the fact that Donatus was well known as a pacifist.

  Kron walked in the midst of a dozen Lycan soldiers with Tarik at the rear. They came to the apartment where another six soldiers remained as a constant guard. After her raid upon the palace, the king did not want her causing any more unrest in the city.

  One of the guards opened the door, and Kron walked inside with half a dozen soldiers and Tarik following. A fire kindled within Sophia when she laid eyes on Kron. She came to her feet immediately, striding across the room toward him while her companions, Tom and Charlotte, waited.

  “Is this how you come to me, Kron, Master at Arms, with soldiers to protect you?” she asked. “Do you fear your queen so much?”

  Kron smiled darkly as his soldiers came into the room, flanking him. “Queen seems a bit premature, don’t you think?”

  “Only because the same man who killed my father, the king, is the one who now sits upon his throne,” Sophia said.

  Kron kept his tone accommodating. This was dangerous ground to tread, even with these soldiers who were loyal to him. “You should know, Princess, that the council is still investigating the tragic death of your father, our king. It seems rather strange to me, that you have taken up company with the boy who released the vampires upon London.” Kron glanced past Sophia to Charlotte. “Not to mention the very vampire who supposedly kidnapped you from the palace on the night of your father’s murder. A bit too coincidental, wouldn’t you say, Tarik?”

  “Hard to fathom, my lord,” Tarik said as he came along side his king.

  Sophia’s eyes were hard upon Kron. “You would dare to accuse me of my father’s murder?”

  Kron glanced at his second in command and then back at Sophia with a slight smirk. “I did say that the matter was still under investigation, Princess. Wasn’t there some particularly troubling aspect of the crime, Tarik?”

  Tarik looked upon Sophia with mild contempt. “The murderer was an expert archer, my lord.”

  Sophia barely contained her outrage. “I would not have required two arrows as the murderer did.”

  She saw the sting of her insult in Kron’s eyes for a moment before he regained his composure and smiled.

  “Well, this has all been very pleasant,” he said. “However, I have more pressing matters at the moment. You will remain here until this investigation is resolved. When we have sufficient proof, the murderer will face death.” Kron looked at Tom and Charlotte. “As well as his or her accomplices.”

  He started to turn away. Sophia stopped him. “Kron?” she said.

  “Yes, milady?”

  “Did you really believe that I was so foolish as to come here alone?”

  Kron’s gaze went between her and her companions. Tom and Charlotte had been with the princess when she attempted to charge into the palace and wrest control from him. There had been no others found.

  Sophia’s expression turned to sudden fury. “Attack!”

  Kron leaped back from her, not knowing what her behavior meant. Tarik came forward in the place of his king to defend him should Sophia have a dagger hidden, meaning to kill Kron now. Tom and Charlotte flew into action, coming at the soldiers, or to defend Sophia from Tarik—he wasn’t sure, nor did he care.

  The time had come. This provocation alone would be sufficient reason for him to kill the princess and her companions. The council would have no choice but to vindicate their king when Sophia died. Under threat of accusation, she had shown her true colors. At least, that would make a fine story to relate to the people when they questioned his actions.

  Afterward, they could present the fabricated evidence they had intended to provide as proof of Sophia’s guilt. Everyone would believe she had been the assassin. By her own doing, she would be unable to defend against the accusation. Kron would continue to be king, and the people would follow him.

  Tarik lunged at the princess with his sword. Sophia had not moved. No matter. Then a war hammer, as yet unseen, pummeled Tarik down to the floor.

  Kron and his soldiers had only a moment to feel astonishment. A horde of troll warriors appeared in the apartment, coming from every direction with swords and battle axes and war hammers. Kron recognized Redclaw immediately as the one that had waylaid his general to the floor.

  The sounds of battle filtered in to them from outside. His soldiers were under attack, probably by more trolls fighting for Sophia. Kron locked his gaze on the princess and saw her grin. She had gotten the best of him in this situation, and now they both knew it.

  “Take form!” Kron commanded.

  He and his soldiers became large wolves, hungry for the fight, ready to take on the trolls. These were not the natural enemies of the werewolves, but they would do. As wolves their feral compulsions took over and they flew into the fray baring teeth and claws.

  Kron, however, leaped through one of the apartment windows. Sophia meant to kill him, to end his short reign as king over the Lycans. He couldn’t let that happen. At the very least, he might survive, gather his troops from the Xandrea campaign and fight again another day. This was his imperative now for the sake of his Lycan people.

  Outside, Kron found that the princess had not only enlisted the aid of the trolls, but had managed somehow to bring an army of elves into Tidus from Xandrea. He recognized their armor of silver scales. Elf warriors
came through the streets, battling his Lycan soldiers. Trolls mingled with the elves—an alliance Kron had never witnessed before.

  How had she done it? Kron could not think of a way. The trolls had the gift of camouflage—an ability to appear invisible for brief amounts of time. But what of Donatus’s soldiers? They should have been busy keeping his Lycan army at Bay at Xandrea.

  Kron ran hard for the palace. Beyond the throne room stood the gate into Wolf’s Bane. He could escape by that way. He still had an entire village of soldiers there who were loyal to their king. They kept the borders of Lycan territory from invaders.

  These elves and trolls had come from another direction into Tidus, perhaps beyond the river and the forested lands. This would have been a long way to bring an army, but it was possible that the ancient wards keeping out enemies had been breached there. That investigation would have to wait for now. At the very least, the palace appeared to be a safe haven as the streets filled with Lycans and elves and trolls doing battle.

  Kron ran through the gated courtyard in his wolf form. He passed soldiers heading toward the battle, but did not pause to instruct them. His life was more important. They would gladly sacrifice themselves so that he could escape.

  That is how it should be, he thought.

  Kron skidded across the marble tiles in the throne room, trying to get his bearing and keep traction. Two of Redclaw’s trolls had been sent here prior to guard the gate portal. He leaped into the air, coming down in human form. One hurled his battle axe at Kron, but his left hand became a viney appendage.

  He snatched the axe from the air and came at the trolls. Kron cut down the first troll with his own axe and then managed to evade a direct hit coming from the war hammer of the second troll. Leaping away, his vine arm wrapped around the troll’s weapon and dragged him off balance by it.

  Kron raced onward toward the gate portal, not knowing how close Sophia and her allies were on his heels. The troll wasn’t important, only his escape. At least, he had killed one of the invaders.