The Blade of Highwind: The Complete Trilogy, page 43
There is more to being a Senosi than the skills or the claws or even the Mark of the Huntress, Jurisa had said. We followed Marcella because we believed in her. We believed in her cause. A just crusade—a righteous crusade.
And now that victory wasn’t possible, Veleca was willing to settle for vengeance on the city that had “betrayed” them.
“I could try some divination spells in the morning, but I don’t think they’ll accomplish much,” Mirek said. “If she’s hiding inside the Pale, my spells might not be able to reach her at all.”
I winced. Thinking about the Pale, the shadowy realm of demons and dead gods, had always creeped me out even before I’d truly understood what it was. And now that I did, it creeped me out even more.
Because while mortals might not have been able to see through the veil separating the physical world from the Pale, powerful demons on the other side could. As a young girl, I’d had nightmares about the shadowy monsters lurking on the other side as if they were peering through my window…
Normally, I rather enjoyed exhibitionism; knowing I was being watched was kind of a turn-on. But there was a difference between harmless ogling by lustful strangers and being sized-up for a meal by ravenous demons. Sure, they both wanted your flesh wrapped around them, but only one intended to ever give it back.
My eyes flicked back to Isolde. She was staring off in the distance, perhaps too distracted by her own thoughts—or Mirek’s—to pay mine much attention. But when I looked beyond her cute face and amazing body and perfect tits, I was reminded of the monster bound within her. In addition to saving Vorsalos from a horde of undead, we also needed to figure out a way to exorcize that demon without killing her in the process.
“All we can really do is warn the Ravenguard about what’s coming,” I said grimly as I wandered over to Mithros and scratched the top of his huge head. “Maybe we can convince them to spread their forces across the city so they can deal with the undead wherever they emerge from the Pale.”
“The difficult part will be getting them to believe us,” Mirek said. “The Regent Lord is still convinced that his Corvosi sorcerers will be enough to save the day. The trouble is, he won’t want to reveal their existence until the undead show up. Otherwise, his whole ‘I’m the savior of Vorsalos’ gambit will blow up in his face. The Raven Court will only care that he’s been training sorcerers in secret and start asking a lot of tough questions. This only works if he comes to the city’s rescue at the last moment.”
I sighed. “I still can’t believe your people ever thought this was a good idea.”
“Neither can I,” he muttered. “But the Ravenguard has no reason to listen to us.”
“Then we shall defend the docks on our own,” Isolde declared. “And save as many innocents as we can.”
Mirek and I both gave the amazon a wary look. As usual, there wasn’t a single trace of doubt—or sarcasm—on her face.
“We’ll do whatever we can,” I said. “Honestly, that bow has probably faced down worse odds before.”
Isolde glanced at the golden limbs of the bow strapped to her back. “It is a remarkable weapon. Though I intend to face our enemies head-on. The undead are no match for a daughter of Nol Krovos.”
“I know they aren’t,” I said, and meant it. Ithilvarûth, the legendary bow that my mother had wielded for the better part of a century, could wreak havoc with its ability to unleash explosive arrows of sorcerous flame. But Isolde had also equipped herself with a quiver of regular arrows, as well as a spear and shield from the weapons cache we’d found hidden inside the grain silo at the plantation, and I was curious to see how her melee skills compared to her archery.
“There is one other option,” Mirek said, his voice oddly distant. “I could try and contact Farah.”
My eyes narrowed. “The woman who had me abducted by pirates? The woman who tried to capture you so you couldn’t interfere with her plans? And let’s not forget, the woman who gave Veleca the Avetharri relic in the first place?”
Mirek grimaced. “I know how it sounds, but she needs the Regent Lord to become the hero so the Imperium will get its puppet ruler in Vorsalos. If we warn her about what Veleca has planned, she can probably convince Ironsail to deploy the Corvosi in more strategic positions.”
“Except he can’t afford for the Raven Court to know what he’s up to ahead of time,” I reminded him. “They don’t even know his Crell-trained sorcerers exist.”
“No, they’ll have to be subtle about their movements until the city is attacked. But having them hidden and ready is better than just having them hidden.” Mirek shrugged. “Honestly, we’d be doing Farah a favor. If the undead butcher thousands before the Corvosi can stop them, it won’t ingratiate the Regent Lord to the rest of the court the same way as if he prevents a calamity. It’s in her—their—interests to heed our warning.”
“I suppose,” I conceded. “But this plan still results in the Crell getting their puppet ruler.”
“I know,” he said gravely. “But the alternative is to let hundreds or thousands of innocent people get slaughtered. It’s the best of bad options.”
You know what life is? A struggle between bad and worse. Anyone who says otherwise is lying or stupid.
Aunt Val had hammered that grouchy point home to me time and time again over the years. Life wasn’t about easy choices—it was about tradeoffs. You did the best you could and lived with the consequences.
Though in this case, the whole of the Northern Reaches would have to live with those consequences. No one with a scrap of sanity wanted the Crell Imperium to sink its claws into the region. Letting them exert control over the second most powerful city-state would be an absolute disaster.
Still, it wasn’t as if an Imperial fleet would show up in the harbor the day after the battle. Highwind and the other city-states would have time to mobilize and counter the Imperium’s schemes, especially since we could tell them exactly what was about to happen. Politics and diplomacy could still prevail.
Though even if they couldn’t, it wasn’t like we had much of a choice. None of us were going to stand by and allow Veleca to unleash a tide of chaos.
In her final breaths, Jurisa the Huntress had said that the guilty must be punished. Even knowing that the Senosi Crusade was over—even knowing that the cause of her Inquisitrix was gone—she had been willing to die for the memory of their failed revolution.
I had never wished Aunt Val was here more than this moment.
“Maybe you could write Farah a letter when we get to the city,” I suggested. “Have it delivered to the Regent Lord’s estate.”
“I need to talk to her in person,” Mirek said with a resigned sigh. “It’s the best chance of convincing her to listen.”
“And the most dangerous,” I pointed out. “You can’t just walk up to the Regent Lord’s estate.”
“I know. But I’ll think of something, don’t worry.”
He flashed me a lopsided smile, the same kind I often used when I was trying to deflect attention when I was about to do something stupid. The difference was that I was much better at it than he was.
Or maybe it was more difficult to lie to someone who understood the game.
“For now, we might as well make camp,” Mirek said.
Sighing, I turned and glared at the bedroll I’d kicked to the other side of the clearing. He wasn’t wrong—we should set up camp and try to get some sleep. And if we couldn’t realistically get into Vorsalos before daylight, there was nowhere else to—
“Wait,” I said, an idea popping into my head. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of this before…
Isolde stepped toward me, face scrunched in concern. “What is it?”
“There is another place we can stay,” I said, smiling at my own cleverness. “And it’s not far away, either. A couple miles at most.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?” Mirek asked suspiciously.
“You’ll love it,” I promised. “Tell me, have you ever heard of Javier’s Folly?”
“The smuggling ship?” he asked. “My Zarul briefings mentioned the name. Some old warship that moves contraband up and down the coast, right?”
“Not for many years now. These days it drifts around the gulf, stopping at private piers for a week or so at a time. It’s like a floating tavern hosting a never-ending party.”
“That sounds exhausting,” he muttered. “And dangerous.”
“It sounds amazing,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t tell me you aren’t craving some Ostvaran rum.”
“I’m mostly craving sleep.”
“Oh, come on! I’m the one who had to duel the Huntress! All you did was wave your hands around and change the fabric of reality. How tired could you be?”
Mirek snorted. “Good point.”
“I’m glad we agree.”
Flashing him a wry smirk, I strolled next to him and grabbed the collar of his tunic to pull his lips closer to mine. His stubble was even more rakish from point-blank range, and needing to tilt my chin upward to look into his dark green eyes was a pleasant reminder that he was the perfect height for me, too. Something felt right about needing to be on your tiptoes—or in heels—to give a man a proper kiss.
“Don’t you think we deserve a little fun before facing down the apocalypse?” I asked softly.
“I suppose,” he admitted. “But peace and quiet can be fun, too.”
“Liar. Peace is boring!”
“Not always.”
“It is to me,” I said, bringing my lips within a hair’s breadth of his. “Do you have any idea how much energy I expended tonight?”
His hands settled on the generous stretch of bare skin on my lower back between my belt and navel. The warmth of his touch sent a ripple of excitement up my spine.
“Quite a bit, I imagine,” he breathed.
“I’m completely drained,” I said, looking deep into his eyes. “I’m going to need you to fill me back up.”
“I could do that right here.”
Smiling coquettishly, I shook my head. “I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am, but I expect a man to at least buy me dinner before he cums all over me.”
“Just dinner?”
“Maybe a dance and a few drinks, too.”
Bringing my lips to his ear, I lifted my knee to slowly grind it over his crotch. I could feel the bulge of his passion growing larger every second.
“I can’t wait to be on my knees,” I purred, tongue grazing his earlobe. “I’m going to swallow you inch by inch, and you’re going to shoot every single drop right down my—”
“Ooh!”
In unison, Mirek and I turned to see Isolde bracing herself against a tree. She was biting down on her lip, and she had her long, toned legs pressed tightly together as if trying to smother a fire in her quim.
“Oh, gods,” I said, darting over to her and looking at the softly glowing emerald in her collar. The damn thing was undoubtedly flooding her mind with Mirek’s and my thoughts…
As well as our rapidly swelling lust. It was a bloody miracle she could even stand upright.
“I’m sorry, honey,” I said. “I got carried away and forgot!”
“You do not…” Isolde swallowed and visibly steadied herself. “You do not need to apologize. I should be strong enough to handle the power of the tan’ratha, but I am still struggling. I require additional training.”
Training…
The word sent a shiver of delight through me. Not discipline. Not experience. Training.
It probably should have bothered me. Isolde was my companion, not my slave. And over time, I hoped she would become a good friend as well.
And yet the word was still there, buzzing in the back of my mind and igniting my quim. Gods, I couldn’t help but imagine the fun Mirek and I were going to have pushing this girl’s limits together. And if we really wanted to get kinky, one of us could put on that matching ring—the tan’hema—that let us feel her emotions as well.
“Ooh!” Isolde cried out again.
“Shit, sorry,” I repeated, scolding myself for letting my thoughts run wild again. Isolde wasn’t the only one who would need training to handle this new relationship. Impulse control wasn’t exactly my specialty. I was horny all the damn time these days, and thanks to her silly collar, this girl was going to feel every idle fantasy tickling my brain.
The situation would have been a disaster if it weren’t so damn hot.
“Maybe we should skip dinner after all,” Mirek said suggestively. “I’ll get you a drink free of charge.”
I grinned back over my shoulder. “Nice try, but no. We’re walking to that ship.” I squeezed Isolde’s taut arms. Gods, the girl had biceps like iron. “Or you can stay here with Mithros while we have a girl’s night out. Your choice.”
He sighed in frustration, but I could see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. We’d spent enough time together by now that he should have known I’d never make things easy. Constant frustration was the price of being with such a charming, sexy, and humble girl like me.
“How far did you say it was?” he asked.
“A few miles,” I said, squeezing Isolde’s arms again as the waves of lust rolling off us began to cool enough for her to stand upright. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
2
Javier’s Folly
Shayera
Mithros wasn’t thrilled when I asked him to get up and walk a bit farther, and he was even less thrilled twenty minutes later when I parked him beneath a copse of trees and instructed him to wait until morning. There were several reasons why I wasn’t looking forward to returning home to Highwind, not the least of which was the existential dread about the inevitable confrontation with my parents about why I’d left Nelu’Thalas, but being able to take Mithros into the city with me would definitely be a nice change of pace. I was getting tired of leaving him in the wilderness just because everyone would be terrified of him. It wasn’t his fault he looked like a remorseless killing machine.
The people of Highwind would be every bit as terrified as the ones in Vorsalos, of course, but at least there I could exercise my Princess Privilege and do whatever I wanted. My mother would probably be annoyed with me at first, but even her stern, icy heart wouldn’t be able to resist an adorable kitty with wings. Especially not when Ranger-General Aluriel would inevitably want to cuddle with him. And the fact his birth defect prevented him from actually flying…well, that would earn him even more sympathy.
“It’s unfair, I know,” I told him, crouching in front of him and scratching him behind his massive gray ears. “You never get to do anything fun. But I promise, we won’t battle the undead hordes without you, all right?”
Mithros leaned into my hand in a not-so-subtle suggestion for me to scratch him harder. I made a promise to myself to get him professionally groomed when all of this was over…assuming I could find a handler willing to help groom a leophon. It wouldn’t be easy, considering how rare they were outside of the Moonweald.
“Are you certain it is wise for him to join the battle against the undead?” Isolde asked. “Beasts are often panicked by such creatures.”
“He definitely didn’t want to get anywhere near Tel Noroth,” Mirek agreed.
“Well, I’m not leaving him out here when and if the undead assault the northern gate,” I said, standing. “I’ll have to come fetch him beforehand. But for now, let’s relax and get ourselves a drink or three.”
We had already traveled a couple more miles in the darkness, and it didn’t get any easier to see when we left the road altogether and ventured west through the wilderness. The trees were thick enough here that the moon struggled to pierce the canopy, and it would have been a little dangerous to push on much further. But thankfully, we only had to travel another few minutes before the bright lights on the shore ahead became visible.
From a few hundred yards away, this particular pier didn’t look any different than the dozens of other private wharfs along the coast outside Vorsalos. A fenced-in manor rested about thirty yards from the water along with several smaller structures, including a barn and adjoining stables. A pair of fishing boats had been tied up near the shore, but the main attraction was anchored a few hundred feet from the end of the pier.
Allegedly, Javier’s Folly had been a part of the Vorsalosian fleet during the War of the Three Cities almost a century ago, but it had been badly damaged in a skirmish with the Ostvaran Armada and nearly foundered at sea. One of the pirate lords who’d ruled the City of Ravens back then—Javier something or other—had repaired the ship at great personal expense as a gift to his wife…
Only to have it and his wife stolen from him by an Ebaran swashbuckler some years later. The dashing duelist and his beautiful new first mate had turned the ship into a legendary smuggling vessel that operated all across the Shattered Coast.
That was the version of the story I’d read, anyway, though it had admittedly come from one of General Aluriel’s vast collection of romance novels. The truth of the vessel’s origin was probably boring. It was entirely possible this wasn’t even the same ship—whoever owned it now might have simply renamed it to capitalize on the legend.
The ship itself was about a hundred feet long and perhaps a third as wide, placing it on the smaller size for modern warships, though still larger than the vast majority of ships at sea. The sounds of music and laughter soon reached our ears as we approached the shore, and I counted at least a dozen people drinking on the main deck.
“You’re absolutely certain this is a good idea?” Mirek asked as we walked toward the pier and the two burly sailors collecting entry fees.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” I said.
