Allegiance by Cayla Kluver
“The Legend of the Bleeding Moon,” I interrupted, wanting her to know she did not have to detail it for me, and she nodded her head.
“Had but a few more days passed, the prophecy would have been useless. The bleeding moon was predicted for the end of that very season. But my brother rejoiced at our fortunate timing and acted upon the information, kidnapping your newborns in search of the right one. And as usual, when he went out into the fields of battle, he entrusted his ring to me, the twin to which I wear.”
Her hand flicked upward to show the royal ring she bore on her first finger.
“I strung it on a necklace and gave it not another thought until…”
She shook her head, recognizing that she was getting ahead of herself.
“London started improving, after a while. A single dose of my healing force would sustain him for longer periods of time, and along with this progression came consciousness. He was exhausted, still delirious to some extent, but he had grown to recognize my presence, and, I believed, to associate it with relief. When I came, the pain stopped—when I left, it was only a matter of time before it resumed.
“I wanted him to appreciate what I’d done, perhaps be in my debt. I stayed with him more than I needed to and did more for him than was necessary—my attendants would have kept him company and provided for him in my stead had I desired to be elsewhere. But he was fascinating to me, so unlike the Cokyrian men I knew.”
Her obvious attraction to London was reminding me strangely of what had drawn me to Narian, with one exception: Narian had returned my affection. I knew from the looks London had aimed at the High Priestess here in the cave that there was no room in his heart for her.
“He spent ten months in Cokyri, and that time was coming to an end,” the High Priestess continued. “He awoke one day and we spoke for the first time, though he was still to my knowledge not completely himself. In the end, I was so near to him I could not stop myself—I kissed him, and he momentarily responded—I did not even notice when he removed the necklace that bore my brother’s ring. As he drifted off again, I turned and left.
“When next I came to see him, just a few hours later, he was gone. The window was open, a horse was stolen and he had disappeared. I had underestimated his cleverness, for he was further recovered than I or my attendants had suspected, and I had been careless in providing him with such a simple exit. He knew exactly how long he had before the pain would again incapacitate him, and it was just time enough to travel to Hytanica if he rode hard. He had escaped with much knowledge my brother and I never wanted revealed to your people.”
“When he returned, he was…ill,” I said, not sure if sickness was the best way to describe it. “Was that because of…?”
“Our conflicting forces were still at work within him. Your doctors would have been dumbfounded—the symptoms would have been unrecognizable. It was long before I heard word that London had survived. I had feared for him, but my magic must have been in greater quantity than my brother’s when he’d made his departure. It is because of the remaining embers of my power that it is taking so long for him to die at Trimion’s hand—he heals when he should not, fights forces for days that should kill him in minutes. He has not appeared to age over the last eighteen years because my magic preserves him. He will have a much extended life, if my brother does not kill him.”
“How long does he have?” I asked, feeling as though scattered pieces I had gathered myself over the years were at last coming together into a coherent picture. The mystery of London was resolved, sadly just in time for him to die.
“Two days, maybe three. Then my power will have been depleted trying to contest the effects of my brother’s.”
“And…” I paused, knowing my next query was irrelevant but wanting to say it anyway. “And if we let you go, will he be spared?”
“My brother will have his revenge upon London,” she told me softly. “No matter what. Your friend is no longer part of the bargain.”
I rubbed my face with my hands, my mind overwhelmed by the abundance of information she had provided, but knowing the story was important for some reason. What could it be?
“Hytanican Queen,” she said, and my gaze again found her beautiful countenance, those intense and intelligent green eyes. “You are different from most females of your culture and are underestimated even now—by everyone, I hope, except me.”
This statement was maddening and puzzling, but I did not have time to respond. Cannan and Halias reentered the cave, the moderate volume of their speech seeming amplified as it jarred me out of my confused thoughts and drew my attention away from the woman with whom I sat.
“Temerson, take over for Galen,” Cannan ordered, motioning the young man out the door to relieve the Sergeant at Arms of guard duty.
“And what did you decide?” my father asked, still on his feet, occasionally pacing.
The captain did not respond in words, but his significant glance in my direction was enough to confirm my fears. I rose to my feet, my skin clammy.
“Not now,” Cannan said, his eyes still on me, and I understood that he meant there would be no severing of appendages at this precise moment.
No matter how much I detested the idea of cutting off the High Priestess’s hand, I could not stand in Cannan and Halias’s way. Perhaps, as the High Priestess had said, I was unlike other women from my kingdom, but it was to my kingdom that my loyalty belonged—I would not stand against my friends to protect my enemy.
CHAPTER 29
THE DEAD & THE DYING
NANTILAM HAD MEANT TO TELL ME SOMETHING beyond the obvious, but what? For hours, my battered brain floundered. In my mind I repeated all that she had told me, in as much detail as I could manage. That afternoon, as Galen sharpened the weapons, the sound was heavy with significance, and it grated upon my ears, distracting me. I lay back upon the furs that formed my bed, trying to block it out. Empress, daughter born, magic passed, twins, Overlord embittered, London captured, tortured, healed again and again…London’s escape, ageless, practically immortal… Shaking my head, I began again, more slowly, considering the key words. Empress, daughter born, magic passed, twins…
At the negotiation meeting with the High Priestess before Hytanica’s fall, London had been captured again and taken back to Cokyri, without the Overlord ever knowing. He had been hidden in the High Priestess’s temple…now I knew why. But how did that help me?
Empress, daughter born, magic passed…
I sat up abruptly as a flame lit within my mind. I stumbled to my feet and hurried to kneel at the High Priestess’s side, ignoring Halias’s alarmed expression.
“If you had a daughter, what would happen to your power and your brother’s?”
“Alera, what are you—” the Elite Guard started, but I held up a hand for him to wait.
“No one knows,” Nantilam answered, her green eyes intense, a sign that I was perhaps getting close. “There has never before been a case like ours. But however the magic will pass, it should belong to my daughter.”
“You believe—your brother believes—that when you have a daughter, all the power from both of you will transfer to her,” I finished, beginning to smile. I did not wait for a response, instead running to the back of the cave for parchment and a quill.
“Alera, what is going on?”
It was my father this time who put forth the question, sounding thoroughly appalled by my unladylike behavior.
“We must deliver another message to the Overlord,” I announced, turning to meet each man’s gaze individually— Galen still sitting with sharpened sword in hand; Cannan beside his son, who had once again struggled up on his elbows to gape at me; Halias monitoring the High Priestess; and my father offering a blanket to my chilled mother and sister. I explained my idea in further detail, leading up to my final conclusion.
“We will tell him his sister is pregnant, and that unless he releases the Hytanican people at once, including London, we will disappear with her.?
“Will he believe it?” Halias asked.
“He doesn’t have to believe it,” I said, quill in hand, having opted to pen the message myself. “He just has to fear it.”
When it came time to decide who would carry the message to the Overlord, Temerson surprised us all by volunteering.
“I want to help,” he simply said.
I shifted awkwardly, as did the others. Temerson was not yet a man, his stability was still in question, and we unanimously doubted he would be able to approach the ruler who had murdered his father before his eyes. Yet no one wanted to tell him this.
“Boy, you are helping,” Halias tried, speaking for us all.
“No.” Temerson was unexpectedly strident. “I’ve seen too much to still be a boy. And I want to see the bastard’s face when he reads what Queen Alera has to say.”
This stunned us into silence, for prior to recent events, the idea of such a statement coming from Temerson’s mouth would have made any of us laugh. Now, however, not so much as a chuckle was heard. Eventually, the captain spoke up, as usual the most decisive of us all.
“Galen will go with him.” Just in case, rang through my head, but it was practical anyway, as the sergeant knew where the Overlord had been bringing London as a result of his scouting. “He’ll wait while Temerson delivers the message.”
The two young men left early the following morning, Temerson clasping the parchment I had signed. They wanted to be in place before the Overlord arrived, in the hope of saving London from the day’s ordeal. We knew the mission had been successful even before they returned, for no screams echoed through the mountains. When Temerson and Galen were back among us, they confirmed that the message had indeed affected the Overlord—he had retreated at once to our city, taking London with him. All that remained was to wait.
And a long wait it became. Days passed, confidence waned, tempers flared and uncertainty was rife. Halias went to observe the city in case the Overlord acquiesced to our demands, but no word came from him. We all felt the possibility of defeat gnawing at us; if something did not happen soon, we would have no choice but to disappear as we had threatened.
“He is searching for some other way to secure my release,” the High Priestess told us, the only person in the cave who seemed unperturbed. “There is no alternative, of course. He will do exactly what you want, in the end.”
“Why are you offering reassurance?” Galen griped from where he was standing near Steldor, flipping his dagger over and over in his hand. He looked agitated, recently his constant frame of mind.
“I am ruthless in war,” Nantilam informed him. “I do what I must to secure victory. But whether you would believe it or not, I understand mercy. Conquered, your people would have come to no harm at my hands. That is the Overlord’s doing, for he thrives on pain. My greatest challenge when I am released will be controlling him.”
Galen glowered at her, not appreciating her talk of his countrymen being conquered.
“You’re right about one thing,” he spat. “I don’t believe you.”
He then exited the cave with Steldor, who was weak but back on his feet. Restless by nature, my husband had taken to spending some time each day outside the cave, seeking fresh air and sunlight, but he always stayed close, for he did not yet have the stamina to handle weapons.
It was Galen and Steldor who announced Halias’s return.
“He’s back!” they exclaimed, slipping into the cave in midmorning. Temerson was out on watch, Cannan was guarding the High Priestess, and the rest of us were gathered around the fire pit. “Halias is coming!”
We all stood, staring at the entrance, and it seemed as if no one took breath as we waited for the news Halias would bring. The moment had at last come when we would learn whether we had gained a small victory. It wasn’t long before the deputy captain entered, panting from the haste he had made.
“He’s opened the gates,” Halias gasped, glancing around at us all. “He’s done what we asked. Our people are walking free.”
Jubilant shouts broke out, and relief swept through us like a gust of spring air. I shifted my gaze to the High Priestess, who wore a self-satisfied expression, then returned my attention to Halias, who was shaking his head incredulously as he tried to catch his breath, leaning forward with hands upon his knees. I could not imagine how it must have looked, thousands of people—most of our citizens—filing out the front gates to travel as one across the countryside.
“Miraculous!” my father exclaimed, amid the excited voices of the others, but the Elite Guard had more to share.
“The Overlord has men waiting for us at the clearing, and London is with them. They will summon their commander when we come with the High Priestess.”
“Is London still alive?” I asked, my heartbeat thudding dully in my ears.
“I think so.” Halias’s eyes went to Cannan, expecting an opinion on his next statement. “We might be able to save him.”
The captain gave the assertion due consideration, and I waited nervously for his decision.
“If he can last awhile longer, we may be able to do so,” he said. “But I think it would be best not to meet the Overlord until the majority of the people have left our lands.” His keen eyes flicked to Nantilam as he added, “To prevent him from going back on his word.”
Halias nodded, then Cannan sent Galen to oversee the evacuation and to designate leaders to take the civilians west. Steldor would have liked to have accompanied his best friend but did not need his father to tell him he was not yet ready for a cross-country trek.
Hours went by, not enough time to get everyone out of the Overlord’s reach, but our unease was growing as we pictured London still within the ruthless warlord’s clutches. When Cannan thought we had risked our enemy’s patience as far as we dared, Halias tied the High Priestess’s hands in front of her and blindfolded her. If things went wrong, the captain, always cautious, did not want Nantilam to be able to lead the way back to our hideout. Halias then held the reins of her horse as he, Cannan and I settled on our respective mounts, and we began the trek to take our captive to her brother. Steldor watched us go, recognizing not only his physical limitations, but also that I was the one who had started all of this and should therefore be the one to finish it. He and I had not talked much since his recovery, but his actions told me he viewed me with newfound respect.
This particular journey felt like the longest of them all, even longer than the night we had fled to the cave. Every step was weighted with fear and inevitable mistrust, for Cokyrians were, above all else, notorious for their deceit. There was faith and expectation as well, for though we were abandoning our homeland, our people would be free, leaving open the possibility of establishing a new Hytanica.
The Overlord had already arrived by the time we walked warily into the clearing. Although the snow was melting and I could feel a warm breeze ruffling my hair, a sign of the approaching spring, the warlord’s presence cast a pall over everything, draining hope from my very soul. I closed my eyes, trying to shake the feeling.
Narian was once more with his master and was supporting London under the arms. I studied the young man closely, the face I had worshipped, the neck I had kissed, searching for a sign that he was the same boy with whom I had fallen in love. When his keen blue eyes connected with mine, I had my answer, for they were not the cold eyes into which I had gazed at the bridge, and the concern within them was unmistakable. Whether Narian stood by Cannan or by the Overlord, he still stood with me.
London was limp, head falling forward onto his chest, and I wondered if we were swapping Nantilam for a corpse. Cannan pulled the High Priestess in front of him, using her as a shield against the warlord’s power, and was pressing a knife to her throat. He was poised to kill her, if it came to that, and did not want to give her brother any possibility of preventing it.
“I have kept my part of the bargain,” the Overlord stated frostily. “Return my sister to me.”
“Londo
He stared at me disdainfully, then motioned to Narian to drag the deputy captain forward.
“Drop him,” he commanded when Narian had crossed half the distance to us.
Although Narian probably would have waited for Halias to approach so he could make a gentler transfer, he obeyed his master without hesitation, letting London fall hard to the ground and taking several steps back. When Halias reached his fellow Elite Guard’s still form, he lifted him under the arms, hauling him past us into the trees.
“Now, my sister,” the Overlord demanded, and Cannan lifted away his knife. He cut through the ropes binding Nantilam’s hands, then removed her blindfold and shoved her forward. She regained her balance quickly and strode, as dignified as ever, back to the side on which she belonged, Narian turning to walk slightly behind her.
“We’re done here,” the captain announced, wary now that the Overlord had no cause for reservations about harming us. He and I started backing away from the enemy toward the shelter of the trees, where Halias waited with London.
“Are we?” The Overlord clasped his hands behind his back, an unsettling smirk playing across his lips, his very expression an unspoken threat. “I had thought we would get to know each other better.”
“Alera, go,” Cannan ordered. “Now.”
I could feel the captain tense beside me in anticipation of trouble. I glanced at Narian, whose posture had changed, telling me he also was on alert.
“Yes, Alera, go,” the Overlord taunted. “Flee like a coward and leave your captain behind, just as he fled and left his brother behind. Or prove yourself a worthy queen and stay to face me.”
Even though I knew I should listen to Cannan, I stayed in place, my body shaking with fear but my heart smoldering with rage. I thought of Baelic and Destari and our other felled soldiers. I thought of Miranna and my mother and their bruises, both of body and spirit. I looked into Narian’s eyes, knowing the good soul that resided within, in spite of the Overlord’s efforts to pervert him, and I recalled London’s courage as he had confronted this evil shell of a man. Then I straightened my back and met the Overlord’s gaze, unwilling to run and tired of hiding.