Prince of Magic (34 page)

Diella took a small amount of the Panwyr up her nose, sniffing it in an almost ladylike manner. Shortly thereafter, she began to dance. Hands that had recently explored her breasts and found them lacking explored once again as she danced. She caressed herself, fondling her own breasts and the crevice between her legs, readying herself for a sexual liaison with some unknown soldier—one of his Own—who would gladly give her what she wanted.

Ciro sat back and watched. Once, he even smiled. The body Diella possessed was pretty enough, and when she was properly dressed in expensive gowns that fit well, she'd be presentable. When the time came, if he didn't kill her first, she'd make a fine second empress and stepmother to his remarkable son.

He suspected they would remain in this cabin for several days. It was not as luxurious as the homes he was accustomed to—the Imperial Palace in Arthes or Fynnian's isolated home—but it would do. Here his soldiers could heal, and when Diella had finished having her fun, she could tell him more about the prophesy and the plans the woman Ariana had set into motion before he'd killed her.

His army was much smaller than it had been, but Ciro was not concerned. There were more of his Own out there, and they were coming. They were drawn to him, and for a few days, perhaps a week or two, he would wait here. When he closed his eyes, he could see them, making their way down dusty roads and through dense forests, each armed, each hungry—each connected to him, and to one another.

He missed knowing what those who wished to defeat him knew and planned, and in a way he wished he had made Diella wait for her body. She was not very good at waiting, and for some reason the Isen Demon indulged her.

He smiled as he heard Diella's frenzied laugh drift to him from outside his temporary home. Soon he would be so strong, the plans of his enemy would be insignificant.

Ariana's army slept and healed. They celebrated their victories and mourned their dead. Those who had passed into the Land of the Dead were buried. Their friends and comrades were buried with honor and emotion; the enemy dead were put into the ground out of necessity.

While Ariana rested… and Sian burned her clothes… two more enemy soldiers were found barely alive. As she had done with the first living enemy she'd recovered, she returned their souls, snatching them away from the Isen Demon with great effort. Each time, she experienced the same sense that she'd weakened the monster Ciro had become. Not significantly, but to some small degree. As he had done with the first of the soulless men, Merin dispatched the enemy once their souls were restored. This part of war was distasteful to Ariana, as a healer and as a woman, but she realized that it was necessary. The dark souls could be called back to the demon if the men were allowed to live, and she could not allow that to happen.

One day passed, and then two. The sentinels began to grow restless. They were waiting for her to direct them, Ariana knew. They were waiting for her to lead, as she had been chosen to do.

She knew without doubt that Sian loved her, and yet he denied his love so staunchly by his actions that she was confused and hurt, in a girlish way she could not afford to indulge. Since that morning when he'd bathed her and told her about his wife and child's deaths, he'd barely spoken to her. He didn't even look at her, and if he could manage to pass his time in the farthest part of the camp from where she found herself, he did so. He had all but cast her aside. Her broken heart meant nothing at a time like this, and yet… it was broken.

It seemed that everyone was treating her differently since she'd come back from the dead. She still felt a bond with the men who'd survived, but they remained distant and sometimes suspicious. Maybe they sensed that Diella, who was by far the stronger of the two of them, was gone, and she was now unfit to lead. Maybe they were frightened by her return from the dead. Some said she had only been stunned and had not been truly deceased, but those who had seen her die knew differently.

As she had been since the day following the battle, Ariana was clothed in the sentinel uniform that Sian had stolen before slipping from the palace and joining her assemblage, trying to blend in when he should've known that he was the type of man who would never be able to accomplish that task. There were a few farmhouses between here and the road which would lead her to Keelia, as well as a small village—if it remained untouched by Ciro and his army. She could probably find a dress of some sort there, and buy or borrow it. She certainly did not have time to sew herself another suitable outfit which included the trousers Sian insisted were better for her current task. Perhaps she could purchase a boy's trousers and shirt, as those of a fully grown man would fit no better than what she now wore.

She had become accustomed to the trousers and the loose shirt which allowed her freedom of movement, and the journey to come would be an arduous one. Sian's discarded uniform was worn and did not fit, but her vanity would have to be put aside in the name of practicality for a while longer.

It was time to move on. The men were miraculously healed, and Ciro had certainly not stalled in his quest. This war was not over. It had just begun.

Ariana called the soldiers together soon after a breakfast of hard bread and dried meat. Selfishly, she thought of the meals Keelia would serve in her palace when she reached The City.
If
she reached The City. Maybe once she was there, she'd have a night or two to sleep in a real bed, and take at least one long, hot bath. The small comforts she had once taken for granted now seemed like the greatest of luxuries.

Ariana hesitated as she looked at the suspicious and curious and awed faces around her. Without Diella, could she lead? Could she accomplish even this?

She stepped upon a fallen tree trunk, which had been taken down in a recent storm. The extra height she gained wasn't significant, but it did raise her up so that she could look across to the faces of her soldiers instead of looking up. "The first battle in this war to come… this war which has already come… is done," she began, "and while we did not kill Ciro, we accomplished much. We killed many of his soulless soldiers." She swallowed. Her heart swelled. Heavens above, she would not hide who or what she was from these men who called themselves brothers. "We hurt the demon himself by taking back a few of those souls. We weakened him," she added in a softer voice.

From the back of the group, a leery voice offered, "And you came back from the dead."

Ariana did not know who said the words, but the time for denying what had happened was long gone. "Yes, I did." She paced before them, studying the expressions of the men. "I visited the Land of the Dead, and saw my ancestors waiting for me." She had told no one about the words she'd shared with Emperor Sebestyen, and now was not the time. What panic there would be if it was known that Emperor Sebestyen had left behind not one heir, but two. And was the information truthful? Or a departed spirit's mischievous trick? She wasn't sure exactly how to approach the knowledge he had given her. Keelia would know what to do. Maybe she could even discern where the heirs could be found, if they were indeed real.

She planted her feet solidly and securely on the tree trunk. The uniform she wore was misshapen and too large, with a rough length of rope serving as a belt and the hem of both the shirt sleeves and the pants' legs rolled up. Her hair had not seen a proper combing in so long she could not remember when she'd enjoyed the luxury, and her always curling locks had become entirely unmanageable. Instead of pretty slippers on her feet, she wore muddy boots that might never be completely cleaned of dried blood. Thank the heavens Sian had not burned that necessary part of her uniform.

What sort of picture did she present to these men? Did they still think her a sister, or did they see her now as simply mad?

"I came back from the dead because this war isn't over and I have a part to play. You
all
have a part to play, each and every one of you. We are destined for this fight, and you have proven yourselves worthy of being called."

"As have you, sister," someone called. She thought it might be Merin, but she wasn't sure. A few soldiers added their agreement to the statement.

Ariana smiled wanly. "Thank you," she said softly. "I am not so sure that I am worthy, but I plan to do my best."

"Where do we go from here?" Merin asked.

This is where things could get tricky. What if she was wrong? What if the decisions she made led them all to their graves? Or worse. She had planned to take this army all the way to Keelia's City, where they would join with the Anwyn army. But Diella knew all the plans Ariana had made, so was it safe? Would Ciro and his army be waiting for them along the trail?

"The time has come for us to part company."

A few of the sentinels protested, but most remained silent and heedful.

"There are not enough of us to fight Ciro's army. We need more men. In addition, all the villages along the mountainside and on the path to Arthes must be warned. They
must not
be taken by surprise, as Lilia's village was. They need to arm themselves, form organized militias, and keep a constant watch for invaders. Lilia's village didn't have the opportunity to fight back. That can't happen anywhere else." She caught and held Merin's eyes. "Arik must be warned. He cannot under any circumstance allow Ciro access to the palace, or to himself." She had begun this meeting with trepidation, but she was filled with the knowledge that this was right. They could stop the man who had once been nothing more than an ineffectual prince and was now vessel to a demon. "Explain to him that the thing wearing Ciro's face is
not
his son, and hasn't been for a long time." According to Sian, the emperor had already been told that Ciro was beyond saving, but Ariana wasn't sure that single warning was good enough. What man could look into his son's face and see the monster instead of the child?

"What of the journey to the Anwyn Queen?" Merin asked.

"I will continue on alone," she said. The soft curse she heard was most definitely Sian's. He stood to the side and behind her, where she could hear but could not see him. "An army is hard to hide," she explained, "but one woman can slip past anyone if she's cautious."