Love's Losses

As Saelbeneth’s steward ushered them into her parlor, Bethniel hung back, waiting for the wizards to sit first. Vic plunked into an armchair and thanked the steward for the footrest he slid under her splinted ankle. Thabean hesitated, his eyes darting at Bethniel, then took a seat on the other side of the low table, his lips stretched flat. Heat flared across Bethniel’s cheeks, and she wished she could erase the tearful embrace they’d shared in the caldera. The fate the Kragnashians had laid out was too awful to contemplate, but so were the consequences of feelings expressed by the brush of soft lips and the clasp of strong arms. Gaze fixed on her shoes, she sat beside Vic while servants poured wine and left the room.

“I’m afraid that was my last bottle,” Saelbeneth said.

“I wasn’t very thirsty,” Vic said, eying the finger-depth of wine.

“You should be cutting that anyway,” Bethniel chided, topping off the glass with water.

“Nelchior will be displeased that I’m sharing any wine with you, Victoria. He told me you tried to murder him two days ago.”

“There was a minor incident which ended without permanent harm to Nelchior,” Thabean said. “There is no need to dwell on it. I requested this meeting to share news of grave importance.”

Bethniel had nothing to add to Vic and Thabean’s tale of search and discovery. She remembered little of her abduction, just a looming shadow and a wet, cloying darkness that melted into oblivion. The slotaen had soaked into her nasal passages, wiping away fear before it induced sleep. Yet since waking, she’d felt nothing but terror. Her heart thrummed with it as Thabean told Saelbeneth about Meylnara joining with the forest and how the Kragnashians named him ‘the Sacrifice.’

“I believe their desire is that I should take the place of this Mind of the forest and become a vessel for Meylnara’s essence that is more easily killed,” Thabean finished, his voice remarkably calm.

“That will not happen,” Vic said.

“But you accept what these creatures said as truth?” Saelbeneth asked. “You accept that they are capable of reason and communicating their desires to you?”

Thabean paled. “I do, madam. They have touched me twice, and both times I felt a vast intelligence which frightens me more than this news of Meylnara or even of my own doom. What we thought were merely beasts enslaved to her will are actually formidable foes in their own right.”

“They are formidable, and the Kragnashians from the caldera have offered an invaluable alliance,” Vic said. “We just have to figure out how to keep it without killing Thabean. First, I need to understand: what did Meylnara actually do?”

“She made herself nearly invulnerable,” Saelbeneth replied. “Once in legend a wizard did this thing with his guard. He slept and ate and drank and fornicated while they all remained slaves to his mind. His enemies sent assassins, but every wound healed while the guards died instead. The wizard’s rivals tried various opiates and soporifics to break his hold, but his soldiers remained a life-giving source under his complete control. In the end, his enemies had to kill every last one of his guards to kill him.”

“How is that even possible? How could someone connect their essence, their lifeforce, whatever you call it, to another living thing?”

“Maybe it’s like Ashel and Geram,” Bethniel said.

Vic shot her a glare and a silent hiss about betrayed secrets only Bethniel was likely to Hear, but aloud she asked, “How? Meylnara has bonded with trees and shrubs.”

“My brother Ashel and another man became psychically connected during an ordeal they endured while imprisoned together,” Bethniel explained to the others. “They are able to talk to each other over vast distances, and they share memories and feelings now. The Kragnashians called the forest the Mind, which I take to mean the Kia is here as well as in Fembrosh. From this story of the wizard and his guards, and what the Kragnashians said about Meylnara, it sounds like she has joined with the forest the way Ashel and Geram joined by accident.”

“That is ridiculous. Humans and whatever sapience is in the trees are too distinct to be able to join together through telepathy.”

“How do you know, Vic? Maybe mindspeech is exactly the answer. Meylnara has none; she’s easy to Listen to. If I can get close enough to her, I might be able to Hear what she’s done.”

“Close enough? Beth, the only time she leaves her compound is to attack this camp with thousands of Kragnashians.”

“When I came through the Device, at first she was friendly because she thought I’d come to help her. I could go back to her, say I’d come round to her side—”

“No!” Vic and Thabean shouted.

“You will not endanger yourself,” he said.

“You’re no spy.” Vic’s forehead crinkled over fierce eyebrows. “And the idea that Meylnara bonded with the bloody trees using mindspeech is idiotic. The biological differences are simply too vast.”

“We are the trees, Vic! Elesendar joined with the old mothers to make—”

“Oh, Beth, not now. Meylnara must be exchanging subatomic energy with the woods somehow.”

“Subatomic? Do you know what that means, or are you just spouting words you memorized in the Logs?”

“What I know, Beth, is that religious drivel isn’t going to help us kill Meylnara and keep the forest alive so we can go home. Saelbeneth, is there any documentation of that other wizard?”

Blood roared up Bethniel’s neck, whipping her fear into fury. She stood. “Madam, if you’ll excuse me, I have duties in the hospital.”

“Beth, I’m sorry, but—”

“Of course, my lady,” Saelbeneth said. “Victoria and I will confer on this matter. Thabean, Samovael left this morning; I want you to go after him and help him restore the supply train. Then proceed to the coast and send a Caleisbahn frigate to retrieve my library. There may be something helpful there.”

“Of course, madam.”

Bethniel stalked out into a soaking mist, her ears twitching at Thabean’s footsteps. His scent furled through the rain droplets, and her wrath shifted from Vic to ugly, vicious fate. Tears brimming, she recalled the warmth of his cheek against hers, the salty musk of his skin, the tingle as his Woern pulled toward her, and she sped her retreat past the rain-soaked tents in Saelbeneth’s camp.

“My lady.” Thabean caught her elbow. “Please hold a moment.”

She kept her eyes down. “What can I do for you, sir?”

His fingers entangled hers. “I . . .” He cleared his throat. “Do not be angry with your sister. Dealn said to me once, each day we have together is too precious to let anger divide us.”

The heat drained from her face as her lips flirted with a smile. “Did Dealn say it like that?”

“No. He said . . .” He laughed softly. “His language was coarse and unseemly. Victoria often reminds me of him.”

A sigh huffed out. “Except you’re the heretic and he was the faithful.” She swiped at wet cheeks. “I believe if anyone can thread fate’s needle and do what the Kragnashians want without sacrificing the forest or you, it’s my sister. But I have also seen her collapse into herself and leave others in jeopardy because she tries to do everything alone. I don’t blame her for failing, only for failing to take help when it’s offered.”

“That is not uncommon among wizards, my lady. We hold ourselves above others, and it makes us reluctant to rely on them.”

“Except she was like that before she became a wizard.”

“That is also not uncommon among us.” His mouth curved into a grief-knitted smile. “I must go. Do not do anything rash; your sister needs you more than she needs whatever information you might glean from Meylnara. Farewell.”

She nodded and wished him a safe journey, her heart thudding with each step he took away from her. Though the mist was hot and cloying, her skin pebbled over with cold.

* * *

Rain drummed on canvas, a low thunder beneath the animal calls echoing through the canopy. Thabean clucked his mare forward while foot soldiers streamed past, searching the long line of wagons for survivors. The mare snorted, hooves dancing away from empty hitches. Traces were snapped, and bits of gore clung to harnesses, but the tarps covering each wagon were laced tight and secure. Mostly secure—a soldier poked at a loose corner, and a flurry of nightwings flapped into the understory, grain spilling in their wake.

“They took every last carter and horse,” Samovael grumbled.

“The gruel will be thin by the time we get this load to camp.” Thabean turned to an aide. “Send a party to inform the Council we’ve found the supplies and ask them to send draft animals. Samovael and I—”

His horse screamed; Samovael’s shied backward into the circle of aides and officers.

Meylnara, astride a minion, emerged from the forest. “Give me the One and leave, or stay and starve.”

Chewing her bit, eyes rolling, Thabean’s mare spun. He flew out of the saddle and set a charge sizzling around Meylnara. Samovael launched a pike at her mount. The beast twisted aside, and the rogue wizard returned fire. Thabean dodged a glowing beam, wrenched a boulder out of the earth and flung it at the minion. The monster crumpled, but a dozen more swept out of the trees and Meylnara disappeared inside a writhing chitinous ball.

Soldiers fell upon the mass, jabbing pikes into clefts between mandibles and wing covers. Shafts snapped. Shrieking troopers were yanked into the knot; their mangled corpses spit out. The rolling congregation smashed into a cart. Thabean hurled spears, Samovael rocks. A fireball exploded against Thabean’s shield; embers rained.

Fire, he thought and threw his waveform at a nearby tree, inciting its atoms to vibrate so violently it burst into flame. Meylnara shrieked, and lightning struck him, demolishing his shield and frying his nerves. He crashed into the underbrush, reeling. Samovael ripped open a tarp and hurled a load of obsidian at the Kragnashians. Keening, they broke apart, but Meylnara dodged the painting wizard’s fireball and smacked him to the earth with a blue claw.

Shaking his head clear, Thabean marshaled his Woern and created a vacuum around the rogue. Her mouth stretched, the scream silent, but her creatures enveloped her and cut off his attack. One loomed over him and snapped its mandibles round his neck. Razor edges pierced sinews, and it took all his power to keep the pinchers from snapping together.

The creature was yanked back, and a Kragnashian smashed it to the ground as more of the creatures flooded over the ball surrounding Meylnara. The newcomer bent its head to Thabean, and he swallowed revulsion as antennae tapped his forehead. Gratitude and pride flooded him. He’d felt the same sensation from the creature that had killed Dealn and again from the Caldera tribe’s leader. The first time, the feelings had frightened and baffled him. Now he understood what they wanted, and fury drove him to his feet. “I will not die for you!”

Screaming, Meylnara flew out of the shredded remains of her guard and hurtled away through the canopy. Samovael shot after her, and the Caldera tribe melted back into the woods.

“Should we follow them, sir?” a captain asked.

Blood wept from a gash on the man’s shoulder; more troopers sprawled on the track or leaned, panting, on pikes. “No. We’ll tend our wounded and bury our dead. Send that message back to camp, and tell them to hurry.”

* * *

Fire crackling between them, Samovael rubbed the back of his neck. “Shrine, but I could do with a good fuck.” On the canvas at his feet, black lines swirled into two figures fornicating.

Thabean’s ale wet a smile. “Dealn always said that after a fight.”

“Dealn always did that after a fight. Fuck, but I miss fucking. I miss saying ‘fuck.’ The Council is too bloody formal.”

Thabean shrugged. “Most of us were trained as barristers and bureaucrats; you and Victoria are the only soldiers.”

“You’re warrior enough, my friend. And Victoria isn’t on the Council, however fine we treat her. Why do we treat her so well? I like her, but she’s an outlaw worse than Meylnara, with that whelp growing in her.”

“Saelbeneth thinks she’s the only one of us able to kill Meylnara. Some nonsense the Caleisbahnin have fed her.”

“I gave it a good shot today; I’m sorry I lost her.”

A log cracked, and embers settled as smoke swirled and drifted toward the stars. Samovael topped off Thabean’s mug, then refilled his own. “What happened today?” His canvas displayed the Kragnashian tapping Thabean’s forehead.

Thabean flicked a stone into the fire. “We were wrong about them; they are not dumb brutes, and they do not all belong to Meylnara. The attack after Dealn’s funeral was a distraction so the creatures could kidnap Lady Bethniel. Victoria and I followed them to another lair where they released Bethniel and named themselves our allies.” He waved at the supply train. “Today they demonstrated their allegiance. You and I would be dead but for them.”

“And what price did they demand? I heard what you said.”

A shudder seized his spine as he recalled the Kragnashian’s appalling gratitude. When they had called him the Sacrifice, Bethniel’s tears had rent his heart more than the news of his death.

Her face appeared on the canvas.

“Are you a Listener, sir?”

“I’m not, but I can see that you pine for this woman. I figured it’s why you joined this mission.”

Thabean scowled. “Saelbeneth ordered me here, but a separation is for the best.”

Samovael swigged his ale. “What did the beasts want in return?”

He expelled a long breath. “My life.” He told Samovael about Meylnara, the forest, and the Kragnashians’ desire he take the trees’ place.

“Elesendar, man! Why would you agree?”

He nodded at Bethniel’s portrait. “So they would let her go. We must find a way to move Meylnara’s lifeforce into another vessel so she can be killed.”

“We can simply kill the trees!”

“Saelbeneth will not countenance that. She worships the Kia.”

“And what about your lady love? Does she want you to step onto the pyre?”

He laughed bitterly. “No, she does not.” She was his lady love, and he would die for her, but only to make her safe.