Shielded in Broken Armours
Part One - Song of the Nightingale
Chapter One
Sitting in his chair, Marzio listened to the continuous chatter of the other men. As usual, his suggestion would be rejected - but at least he had tried to warn them.
"This is ridiculous," Kelan Loreh-Ven, the King's chief advisor, said. "They will not attack us now - we have more soldiers, superior weapons. Besides, they cannot possibly be aware of our arrival!"
Marzio merely shook his head at the foolish highborn. He was certain that not only did the Demons know they had crossed the border dividing the two lands, but that the enemy also had an advantage in knowing the layout of the land. Even if the Army of Angelia would win the first few battles, that situation would change rapidly.
"They are cowards, and their prince but a child," Kelan continued, casting him a hateful glance. "From what I hear, he's more interested in books than properly running his land. And his Supreme Commander, that Tempesta... women should not be given such positions! All she'll probably care about is not getting blood all over her gown!"
These were two other things Marzio saw differently. Unlike his father, the young Prince of Demonis seemed to know very well what he was doing, even if he had no experience in a real battle. It was shown in his choice for the new Supreme Commander of Demonis - Tempesta Neri-Lokh was one of the best warriors Marzio had encountered in his life. They had both fought in the previous war, and he had seen her kill many on that occasion. By the time the battle had ended over, her armour and weapons had been sully with blood. She was a real challenge to anyone, no matter how skilled her opponent was. Demon female warriors also wore no gowns on a battlefield.
Marzio also knew that, should they be defeated, Lord Kelan would not take any of the blame, and it would all fall on him. Being High Commander of the Angelian Army brought a lot of responsibility on one's shoulder, but nobody bothered to ask him what the best way of handling things was. They didn't even care if more than half the country didn't want another war with Demonis.
It was sad to see King Raresh Teh-Kai of Angelia a puppet in his Court's hands; Princess Selena, King his only child and Marzio's close friend, had frequently complained about how easily her father would bow to Kelan's will. And the nobleman simply didn't stomach Marzio. The general in fact believed that Kelan had come on this expedition only to sabotage all his attempts of leading their forces towards victory. Not to mention the fact that the idea of a new war had been his, in spite of the knowledge that their country was not really prepared for another conflict with Demonis.
But there was nothing Marzio could do about this situation at the moment. He did not have enough power to oppose the War Council's decisions, backed up by the King's agreement on the matter. Except, perhaps, asking his men to be more vigilant from now on, and being constantly prepared in case anything would happen.
It had been nearly thirty days since they had left the capital city of Mnemon at the beginning of the month of Caldas, and here they were now, at the border dividing the two lands. A very long month, if one would ask him... but he couldn't complain. At least, the journey had been pretty much uneventful so far. That was going to change soon, of course. In crossing their own land, no sane creature could have opposed an armed party such as theirs. It had been both an honour and a difficult decision to accept the command when his King had offered it.
Marzio rose from his chair and, excused himself and left the large tent as fast as he could. He didn't like it there, among all those vultures. He looked at the river they had left behind that morning. It was the turning point of their expedition - the border that marked the unknown territory they had entered. The final obstacle between them and the enemy forces.
The High Commander of the Army of Angelia sighed. He looked around him, at the camp they had settled for the night. Not his choice, this one. He didn't like it one bit. He had the strange feeling their every move was being carefully watched. The enemy lands were not a suitable place for setting camp - after all, it was unknown to any Angelian soldier and he had a pretty good idea the enemy would not hesitate to attack. But the War Council had decided to cross the river and set camp in the valley. Under the circumstances, his young age and apparent lack of experience hadn't helped him much. It had been a difficult crossing, so turning back now was no option. If they were attacked, all they could do was hold their ground or escape south.
Out of an inner sense of preservation, he had decided to settle his quarters near the water course, where exposure was less than in other places of the valley. Having friendly territory behind him was a bit of a comfort. The tents of the Lords, on the other hand, had been placed near the rocky cliffs on the north side. A bad choice, because a simple rock fall would probably prove fatal. Not that he would miss them much... But orders were orders.
He strolled through the camp, noting the state of alertness most of his soldiers showed. They bowed as he passed, although of course it wasn't necessary. He had grown up together with most of them, the only difference being that he had the highest rank, both by birth and - now - by status. But he was not going to change his relationship with his comrades. He was many things, but not stupid.
He kept walking, checking the positions of his men, then the guard posts and everything else he could think of. By the time he found himself standing in front of his own tent, it was nearly dusk. The sun was now setting behind the breeze-blown waters of the Mauri, and the entire valley was shrouded in a deep orange light.
The sun's reflection in the water reminded him of an earlier time, when, still a child, he had watched the sunset with his father. Less than a month after that, his father had been killed. He had decided to live up to his memory, become a great warrior. It had been a hard path, but in the end he had succeeded. However, those days of youthful carelessness and freedom were something he had come to appreciate and miss.
The general groaned. He couldn't let himself think about these things, not now. They were at war, and an attack would probably take place soon. All he could do was hope it wouldn't come that evening or the following day. If it did, it would prove a disaster.
While turning his head from the now-almost-gone sun, Marzio's eyes caught a small reflection of light on the rocky wall's top. He thought he'd also seen a silhouette hidden under the trees, surveying the camp. But, before he could take a better look, it was gone.
He wasn't exactly sure what it had been - an enemy spy perhaps? But that would mean that this spy was wearing an armour - and no decent scout would do such a task in heavy battle armour. It was a job that required freedom of movement. And though wings did provide some sort of flying ability, it wouldn't hold for a long period of time and it was particularly tiresome. Unless, of course, the enemy camp was nearby...
He took another deep breath. He didn't want to think about that alternative. It would mean they were all doomed. His own pride and sense of self-preservation was fighting these thoughts. It was probably nothing, after all. Just some leaves glowing in the last rays of light, nothing more.
'You need a break,' he told himself. Besides, there was no way for a patrol to search the cliff for any sign of intruders. It was too steep to climb.
He went to his own tent, where a hot meal and a bed were waiting for him. His servant helped him remove the heavy silver-plated armour he wore. He ate in silence, recalling why he had refused to share a table with the Lords; he was sick of seeing their faces and listening to their arguments and preconceptions about Demonis. None of them had faced a Demon soldier in battle - the only ones they had seen had been those poor war prisoners that had been captured during the last expedition - farmers, not warriors. He laughed bitterly thinking about the surprise those abject dust bags would have on the battlefield. Provided they decided to show up at all, which he seriously doubted.
His arm hurt a little, reminding him of his previous encounter with the enemy. Almost six years had passed; he had been a young major back then, but the memories were vivid and somewhat frightening... The battle screams, the old Demon Prince and his Supreme Commander, leading their forces against them. Tempesta watching her father fall, and slaying everyone in her way until the general's killer was lying at her feet with his head cut off. (That sight had told Marzio more about the origins of the Angelians' general fear of the Demons than any of those idiotic legends he had heard as a child.) Then the prince had been injured, and Tempesta had called the retreat. The Angelians had claimed it as their victory, and had beheaded all the dead and wounded enemies. No Demon soldier had survived - but it was the Angelians that had been truly defeated. The Angelian Army knew it, Marzio knew it, and even the King did, though he had never admitted to it.
And what would happen now, only the Gods could know.
Marzio finished his frugal meal and lay down on the wooden frame that was his bed. The hard mattress and pillow were not very comfortable, but he was used to them. He didn't want his soldiers to think command had changed him too much, and he tried to keep their standards, as far as it was possible.
He closed his eyes, wondering if there was a chance to get out of this alive. If he did, he would settle down finally. Preferably away from the Court and its machinations; he longed to see the old family estate in the hills of Pythia.
He would also get himself a decent lover.
Of course, a man of his position would have been expected to marry and have children. But his choice of career had allowed him to choose between that and a life of celibacy. He had picked the latter, leaving the breeding part to his sister. He preferred men anyway; they were more honest than all those back-stabbing females most Angelian men considered inferior.
That reminded him once more of the difference between the Angelians and the warrior Demons. Not only did they consider women equal to men, but they also allowed them to join the army. And, though they seldom chose this, it was well-known that women warriors were much respected. Tempesta was, again, the perfect example.
He wondered why the woman haunted his thoughts so much. Maybe it was that, this time, they would confront as equals; as far as he was concerned, she was just as good as he was on the battlefield. And, of course, that fact should make things more interesting.
But the Demon Supreme Commander wasn't his biggest concern. It was the one behind her, the shadow figure he knew very little about. The young Prince of Demonis. Marzio had heard numerous rumours about Prince Nicolas Sagni-Dor's son; however, none of these could be confirmed because of the lack of diplomatic relationships between Angelia and Demonis after the war. However, the mysterious Demon prince was perhaps the favourite gossip subject at the Royal Court of Angelia.
The rumours varied from harmless to outrageous; the ladies, for example, had been appalled to hear the prince supposedly had huge bat-like wings, a bull's head covered in thick fur, and eyes that burned everything they looked upon. Marzio had merely shrugged at the exaggerations. What had interested him was the fact that the young sovereign had apparently spent many years in some hidden mountain retreat. And while courtiers had been pleased to see this as proof of the Demon's horrible appearance, Marzio had the feeling the 'retreat' was in fact none other than the Monastery of Dreak, training camp of Demonis' elite warriors. The thought was very distressing, for among the little Angelians knew about the Dreak warriors was the fact that they would die for their country and their prince, asking no questions and causing maximal damage in the process.
This, in turn, had Marzio wonder about other things. The new prince was considered a puppet in High Priest Lavian's hands, just like King Teh-Kai was a puppet for the Angelian nobles. But if the prince had been trained as a Dreak, then this hypothesis would be false; and besides, the High Priest's strategies usually did not imply waiting for the enemy to come to you, but a quick attack as soon as the situation permitted it. Lord Lavian was one who enjoyed a blood bath, and the situation for a Demon attack had already presented itself at least twice. Nothing had happened; and since Marzio was certain that the Demons knew they had crossed the river, it only meant they had a new strategist.
The worse thing was that the Angelian general didn't know what to expect. And would he see the Prince of Demonis leading his troops in battle, like his father had before him, or would the man rather remain in Aquiline, wait for the result of the first battle and then figure out what was to be done?
Marzio finally couldn't fight exhaustion anymore, so he closed his eyes and abandoned himself to a sleep that was not restful.
The Demon emissary approached the Angelian camp, wondering if there was any danger that he had not prepared for. It was, of course, most foolish to expose himself in this manner. Still, strangely, he felt safe. Not that the archers posted on top of the cliffs, out of sight, had anything to do with it...
But this was a matter of pride. And, in his particular case, some pleasure as well. If the Angelian High Commander was anything like he had been told, he would consider himself honoured to fight such an extraordinary opponent.
Marzio Zain-Reil. The General was member of an ancient family, with a long history of being honest and true to their word. Facing him didn't worry the Demon too much; it was the others he had to watch out for - the Lords of the War Council. The description he had been given of that pack of hungry wolves reminded him too much of the Court in Aquiline.
Naturally, General Neri-Lokh had been against this. She didn't want him there at all. She feared for his safety. But he had managed to calm her down somehow, and had promised to be extra-careful.
The camp was getting closer. Time for the show to begin.
He unfolded the yellow emissary's flag and waved it, being careful to be just out of the range of Angelian archers. Not that he really expected them all to be awake - it was still early in the morning.
His signal was answered promptly, so he approached the camp. He was met half-way by a squad of riders; the General's guards? He briefly spoke to their leader, a young and promising-looking captain, being determined not to reveal anything more than his mission required. Long years of training had taught him to be suspicious of everybody, friend or foe alike. Finally, he was granted safe passage to the camp and back. This was a good sign, though he expected an attack anyway. Still, he didn't want to think too much about it. Having your head spinning was not the best approach when negotiation was involved.
He was escorted through the narrow path between the rows of tents (it had seemed larger from up the cliff, he learned), and he tried to memorize all he could. He noted the Lords' quarters were raised really close to the massive rock wall. That could be used as an advantage, if necessary. The General's tent, though, was located on the bank of the river. Much easier to protect.
Dark expressions accompanied him on his route. He understood these men - they had no desire to come here to die. To them, his walking around alive was unthinkable.
Finally, they reached their destination. The guards posted themselves around him when he dismounted, swords drawn. He didn't let them intimidate him. He was used to being underestimated; now, though the situation was a complete opposite, things went exactly the same. He wondered if General Zain-Reil would trust him enough to talk to him in private.
During breakfast, Marzio received most unusual news. He had partly expected the Demons to send some scouts, or perhaps an emissary party. But here he was, being told that an emissary from the Prince of Demonis requested an audience, and that the man had come alone. Marzio was a bit shocked to hear there was no sign of any other Demons for at least a mile away.
Still debating if this man was either a fool or the bravest warrior he had ever met, Marzio pulled on his uniform, considering the armour unnecessary, and stepped out of his tent just in time to see Lord Kelan approach. 'What's he doing up so early in the morning?' he wondered. He decided to ignore the man for now and take a better look at the enemy emissary instead.
From what he could tell, the Demon was lean and tall, and not extremely muscular. His built seemed more that of an athlete than of a professional fighter, but his pose suggested that he was in the right place and knew exactly what he was doing. He wore the red uniform and golden armour of the Prince's Personal Guard; his black wings were folded back, blending with the dark cloak on his shoulders, feathered ends nearly touching the bare ground at their feet. A golden helmet covered the officer's face, and Marzio could barely make out the man's eyes. They were dark and burning, the flames inside them almost making him back up a step or two.
Almost.
It was a bit unnerving, the way this man stood in front of them, defenceless against an entire army, yet so confident and proud. He had already made a very good impression on both Marzio and the guards; they all admired such self-control and bravery.
Kelan, on the other hand, seemed to find things quite different. He stepped forward and addressed the Demon on a tone that plainly showed his antipathy, "Well, and what is this? A spy in our camp? What do you think you're doing here, you scum?"
The enemy officer - for he was clearly an officer, one didn't send a lesser soldier on such errands - wisely chose not to answer the older nobleman's provocation and looked away. Receiving no answer, and thus considering himself ignored, the chief advisor carried on, "Maybe we should just kill you and send your head back to that coward prince of yours. That would teach you your place, Demon trash."
A disgusted sound was the only reply. But, this time, the officer's eyes met Kelan's, and the old man drew back several steps, pale and terrified. Then the eyes fixed on Marzio, and the revulsion and hatred he could plainly see seemed to gradually change into something else. What it was, he could not say.
The Demon addressed Marzio directly, in a soft yet firm voice that said he was used to command. "I am here on behalf of the Prince of Demonis. I carry a message for the High Commander of the Angelian Army. Will he receive me in private?"
Gaining a little confidence of his own, Marzio stepped forward and addressed the stranger in the same courteous manner the man had used. "I am General Zain-Reil. I will receive the emissary of the Prince, provided he leaves his weapons out here. They will be returned to him on his departure."
There was some slight amusement in the officer's eyes. A nod was his answer; with slow and gracious movements, the man disarmed himself, handing his sword and dagger to an Angelian guard positioned nearby. He then followed Marzio inside the tent, and more guards were posted outside. The general didn't want any unpleasant visitors, especially after seeing the look on Kelan's face when he had accepted.
Once inside the tent, Marzio became even more curious about his guest. The Demon scrutinized the environment, nodding in approval several times, which pleased the Angelian to a certain extent.
Marzio took his place behind the table, which had been cleaned of his earlier meal's remains, and invited the emissary to have a seat across from him. Nodding his acceptance, the officer proceeded to remove his helmet, finally uncovering his face.
The sight that met his eyes was breathtaking. From the way the man had handled himself outside Marzio had thought he would be at least of middle age; but by the looks of it, he was about five years younger than Marzio himself. And he was beautiful, in a male sort of way, with a smooth face, a small nose and a gracious mouth. His eyes were unusual, deep burgundy in colour and burning in his skull like pools of ruby stone, holding much more knowledge than one would expect at such a young age. But most amazing were the pale skin and his sleek reddish hair, which probably fell to the man's waist but had been braided in order to be hidden under the helmet, loose strands framing the fetching face. It seemed as frail and delicate as a spider's web, and all Marzio wanted to do was reach out and touch it.
Marzio was left speechless, and with the notion that, had they not been enemies, he would have taken this young officer to bed without a second thought.
He had probably been staring for quite a while when the Demon smiled briefly in complicity. "The sight pleases you, I take it?" he said, his soft tenor filled with more than a hint of humour.
The general coughed, trying to hide his discomfort at being caught staring shamelessly. "I did not mean to offend you," he offered. "I was merely thinking it is most unusual for a young man like you to be sent on such dangerous duties."
A flash through the claret eyes made Marzio realize that the Demon had probably taken greater offence in those words than in his stare, and he wanted to take them back. But before he could open his mouth again, the man spoke, "I can assure you, General, my rank in the Army is high enough. I am fully competent to be here today." His gaze softened somewhat, and he shrugged. "It is not your custom, I suppose."
'Blaming it on cultural differences? Is he trying to avoid a quarrel?' Marzio asked himself as his unexpected guest sat down in the chair across the table, and tilted his head to the left, returning the intense study he had been the subject of. Then, "May I proceed with my task?"
Marzio found himself more and more amazed by the strange warrior. "Of course. But first allow me to apologize for any offence Lord Kelan's words may have brought to you. He was not exactly a diplomat."
"It is not your place to apologize, General. I believe his lordship can do it himself, if he really wishes to." The elegant face then turned into a mask, showing no emotion whatsoever while he began to deliver the message. "My Lord Prince sends you his greetings. In spite of this most unexpected visit," and way in which he said it let Marzio understand it was not at all that unexpected, "His Highness is pleased to see that his neighbours have not forgotten our land. I am here to deliver a warning. Should you proceed any further without authorization, the conflict between our two armed parties will be imminent."
It was just as Marzio had feared. Not only had their arrival been anticipated, but also the battle had been carefully prepared in advance. There was to be no sign when the attack would come, and he doubted the emissary would reveal such information, even under torture. He gasped, and suddenly felt the pressing desire to be somewhere else. Home was his first choice on the list.
He thought again of the young officer's face as he had spoken. No sign of emotion except in his eyes, which were boiling with the same fire Marzio could not identify.
"Am I to deliver a reply?" the young man asked, pulling him out of his musings.
The general leaned back in his chair. "I must consult with the War Council before I can give one," he said pensively. "But my assumption is that the answer will be no."
It was the young man's time to take a deep breath. He suddenly seemed sad, and his eyes met Marzio's, fixing him in his chair. "Even if you are the High Commander, you really don't have much to say in the matter, do you?"
Marzio shook his head. "It is not my call. His Majesty ordered the attack, and I obey his will and that of the War Council. My hands are tied." The disappointment in Marzio's own voice made it clearly understood that he did not wish this war.
And the Demon returned his concern. "I feared it was so the moment I saw the looks on your soldiers' faces. And there is no way to stop the blood shed."
Marzio was getting unsettling thoughts. Perhaps the Demons were just as tired of the continuous fighting as the Angelians were. Perhaps the Prince of Demonis wanted peace, and his subjects agreed on the matter. A dozen suppositions spun in his head, and he closed his eyes trying to maintain whatever measure of control he had left.
He opened his eyes to find the Demon emissary looking at him in a very disturbing manner. Only now did he realize how much influence the man's simple presence had had on him. The prince had chosen his emissary well. The young officer's natural charisma couldn't have passed unnoticed, and Marzio admired his determination to accomplish his mission properly. 'Dreak,' Marzio's mind screamed. He was Dreak, pure and simple. A beautiful man turned into a lethal weapon.
It occurred to him the officer might be waiting for an answer. But he wasn't, not really. Instead, he spoke again, and the words surprised the general. "Then I can only hope you and I will not meet face to face on the battlefield." Another barely visible smile flew on the lush lips. "Finding a good leader for the army is a hard task, and you seem to fit the part just fine. It would be a shame to kill such a valuable man." There was respect in the Demon's voice, and it meant a great deal to Marzio, coming from an enemy officer. Then the emissary added teasingly, "Under other circumstances, I would have enjoyed having a different type of discussion with you."
His tone of voice implied the discussion he had in mind was not exactly of a very ethical kind, and it was confirmed when the man smiled impishly. "I believe now comes the part where you place me under arrest and kill me?"
That idea suddenly became inconceivable to Marzio. "No, I... You can safely go back to your prince and tell him... tell him that though I don't know the Council's decision yet, I can only assume there will be war."
"I understand." The young Demon stood up graciously and approached him. He pulled out something from under his now empty sword sheath and handed it to Marzio. It was a very sharp dagger, with a curious design on its hilt. "And I suggest you take better care, General. You never know where the blow may come from. Your guards didn't even bother to check my garments for a hidden weapon when I came in." Then he picked up his helmet, placed it on his head and left the tent without further comment.
Marzio threw the dagger on the bed and followed him shortly. Security had to be enforced, he decided.
As he got outside he saw the officer mount his black stallion. He ordered his Second-in-Command to make sure the Demon would make it safely past their lines. Then, he realized he didn't even know the man's name.
"Excuse me, Meris. One more thing."
Hearing the honorary title given to Dreak warriors, the helmeted face turned to face the general. Marzio had been right, then.
"Your name, if I might ask," he said.
The helmet muffled the tender voice, but the words came out clearly. "The name is Ignis." Then the Demon left in a cloud of dust, escorted by Ceni and his guards.
Chapter Two
Ignis returned to their camp at a loss. Naturally, he'd already been prepared for this answer. But finding himself in front of a fight that he could no longer hope to prevent was no easy thing, especially for him. He had been trained for such occasions, yet the gloom of the event had taken hold of him.
He made sure no Angelian rider followed him on his way back. He tried to go over the details of the battle that was meant to happen later that day, but he found he could not focus. In fact, the only thing that came to his mind was the enemy general.
Rumours had been true. He was in his prime, no more than thirty in Ignis' opinion. Yet, he had seemed a man of experience in various domains, and great intelligence. He had even managed to guess the fact he was Dreak. The mistrust of his king was uncalled for.
Ignis recalled the general's well-built body, made obvious by the fact he hadn't worn any armour during their meeting. He was slightly shorter than Ignis, still his conduct inspired respect and even admiration. But what astonished him most was the man's attitude. It was open and friendly, and he had encountered no problem in reading his emotions by looking at the expressions on his face. The large green eyes held no secret, and became of a darker shade when something seemed to trouble the general. The generous mouth was more then seductive, and Ignis had had a hard time trying not to jump up and kiss the man. The aquiline nose, high brow and cheekbones only added to the man's charm.
And that luxuriant golden mane falling to the general's shoulders... Ignis had rarely seen blond hair before, his people being usually dark in both locks and complexion. There were exceptions, himself included, but never before had he seen that golden colour. Needless to say, the result had been more than pleasing.
He reached the camp hidden in the woods in no time at all, dismounted and steered his horse towards his tent, aware his own general was waiting for the news he carried. He gave the reins to his young attendant, and stepped through the heavy silk curtain serving as a door.
He was still deep in thought, when a cheerful voice met him. "We're going to fight them, right?"
He lifted his head to see Tempesta Neri-Lokh leaning on the wooden table. Her dark uniform and hair made her almost invisible in the shadows. He confirmed, but with no pleasure at all.
The woman frowned. She left her place and approached, putting a delicate hand on his shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong?" she asked. Her dark eyes flashed. "If those bastards dared hurt you..."
"I'm alright," he cut her out. "But I had still hoped it would not go this far."
She looked up at him. "Ignis, there's nothing else we can do. Should we fail to protect our land, there will be nothing else left for us. We will be little more than slaves. Is that what you want?"
It was his turn to frown. He may have been young, but a strong sense of preserving his country had been inspirited in him since a tender age. His father had been particularly strict on the mater.
He shook his head. "Of course it's not! I'm just a bit tired, that's all. I'm going to lie down for a while."
"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked again, touching her other hand to his forehead.
"I'm fine."
It wasn't true. He was anything but fine. The massacre that would follow, the thought of killing those who were actually their brothers, even if they didn't admit to it... The place would be soaked with blood for more than a generation. So many lives wasted...
But it wasn't just that, was it? Ignis would have a hard time accepting what the real reason was.
Someone shook him out of his thoughts. It was, of course, Tempesta, who looked really worried now. She pulled him closer, starting to take off his armour. "Why won't you tell me what's troubling you?"
He sighed. There was no way to get out of it. Except if he ordered her to leave; but that would assure her he was indeed hiding something, and she would resent him for weeks to come.
Ignis blushed. "It's General Zain-Reil... I think I like him."
"Like him?" Tempesta eyed him, and then chuckled. "Well, I suppose you can like him all you want, as long as you keep in mind his position." Her gaze darkened when she saw Ignis blush even deeper. "Ignis, please say you are not trying to tell me you are attracted to the Angelian High Commander."
Finding himself at a loss for words, Ignis simply nodded, keeping his eyes downcast as if he were guilty of some catastrophe he couldn't control.
Tempesta drew in a deep breath, hoping to find enough patience in dealing with this new complication. "You can't be serious! He's our enemy, remember?"
"Of course I remember. But I think there's so much more to him than that. It would be a pity to have him killed. He looks like a man of honour."
"He would have us killed," she tried again. His armour finally came off, and he felt relieved.
"No he wouldn't. He made it clear his hands were tied. Apparently, the War Council takes all the decisions, and he merely follows their orders," he told her. "And their leader strikes me as a complete bastard. Lord Kelan was the name, if I remember well."
"Kelan Loreh-Ven, the Angelian king's chief advisor. I should have known he was behind this," Tempesta murmured, but he managed to hear the hateful tone in her voice as she spoke those words.
"Don't worry, I'm sure they won't see what's coming until it's too late. Now go see if everything's ready. And wake me up when it's time."
She nodded and bowed slightly - court etiquette, he noted; though they were the best of friends and he cared little for such things. Ignis resented the gesture a little, because it reminded him of his position.
Tempesta withdrew, but turned on her tracks and peaked back in through the curtain. "Is this attraction mutual, at least?"
Mutual? He stared at her, caught off guard. He thought about it a little, then shot her his most cruel smile. "By the looks of it... I would say yes, very much so."
She laughed as she left the tent, for good this time. Ignis tossed himself on the plush pillows serving him as a bed and dozed off soon after.
Marzio stared as the Demon made his way across their lines. He thought of the huge risks that the man had taken to make sure his sovereign's message had been delivered. He might have been killed. Or worse.
'Such bravery,' he told himself. 'Yet he values life like no one I've ever met. A strange person, this young Dreak.'
Just then, his Second-in-Command and the small escort returned to report his orders had been carried out to the letter. No Angelian scout had followed the enemy emissary.
The general returned to the relative privacy of his tent, beckoning for Ceni to follow him. He settled himself in his chair again, feeling a little relieved. "And what did you think of him?" he asked.
"An exceptional man," Captain Ceni Mah-Kel replied. "He didn't even flinch while waiting for you to come greet him outside. Highborn, probably; and he certainly has what it takes to command. Around 40, I suppose..."
"More like 25," Marzio corrected his friend, taking delight in having him stare at him in disbelief. "Yes, my friend, he is that young. I wish I could say it comes as a surprise, but with the Demons being the warrior people that they are..."
"But Marzio," Ceni protested, "I am not lying when I tell you this - had he given me an order, I would have followed it without a second thought."
The general nodded. "I know; I felt the same way. So, what shall we do now? We know that the Demons know our exact location, and I am sure they are watching our every move." He rubbed his temples pensively. "Maybe now the Glorious War Council will think twice before rejecting my suggestions." He knew he had to inform them of the situation, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
"At least now you can start taking your part more seriously," Ceni told him, leaning on the table.
"And exactly what is that supposed to mean?" Marzio shot back.
"The men are loyal to you, not the Council. You're the High Commander - act like it!"
"Learn from your enemy," Marzio whispered. "Maybe it's time to give Kelan a lesson in military procedures," he spoke out loud, looking his Second-in-Command in the eyes. "Tell the men to break camp and prepare for battle. We may not know when the Demons will attack, but we might as well be ready to greet them properly when they do. And my guess is it will happen soon."
"Is that what the emissary told you?"
He smiled. "Among other things." He kept to himself the attraction he had felt for the Demon officer, and hoped it did not show in his voice when he spoke of the man. Perhaps it wouldn't if he focused on the obvious. "They don't want this fight any more then we do, Ceni. He was so sad about it, even if it meant showing me this weakness."
"Interesting," the captain told him. "I'm off then. Kelan will probably show up in a couple of minutes, to find out what the Prince of Demonis had to say about us invading his country. You should've seen the look on his face after you entered the tent. I thought he would choke on the spot."
"How sad he didn't," Marzio muttered. "Make sure everybody's ready," he added in a strong voice. "As of this moment, we are officially at war."
Ceni took his leave and the High Commander was left alone with his thoughts. He wondered who the Demon was, and what his position in the army was. If one was to trust the young man's words, then it would be pretty high. That could only mean he had started training at an early age, and since they would not entrust just about anybody with such a perilous mission he probably was a pretty good warrior... And he was Dreak, which of course changed everything. Marzio felt the Goddess Seleh favoured him that day - no person he knew of had had the chance to meet a Dreak face to face and live to tell the tale.
But what could Marzio make of the Demon's latter comment? Why would the man want to let him live? He was, after all, the enemy. 'A respected enemy,' he noted with just a hint of delight. The Demons held him in some regard, probably even feared him a little. It was an advantage he would use.
Meris Ignis. Marzio would have liked to meet him again, even if it was on the battlefield. He would make an honourable opponent, at least...
The thought made him remember the dagger the young man had given him. He lunged and picked it up from the hard mattress. He tested the steel blade with his forefinger - it was razor-sharp and drew blood. Marzio flinched. Had the Dreak sent to assassinate him, he would probably be long dead by now.
He wrapped the blade in his handkerchief and curiously studied the design on the hilt. It was of very fine craftsmanship, and made of ebony wood. Very expensive. He noted with surprise it represented a human shape, with carefully sculptured feathered wings folding around it protectively. And, where blade met hilt, the golden crest of the Royal Family of Demonis.
Marzio's heart skipped a beat as a thought occurred to him. What if Ignis was...?
'Don't be ridiculous! There's no way the Prince would have come in person; it would be a most irresponsible act. And he has not given any signs of being a fool thus far,' he tried to calm himself. Naturally, Ignis' demeanour, impeccable manners and artful speech had marked him as a man of noble origins from the moment Marzio had lay eyes on him. But that didn't necessarily mean he was in any way related to the House of Sagni-Dor, let alone being the Prince of Demonis himself.
'They're probably just trying to scare us,' the general concluded. The Prince gave him the dagger, as some sort of present for me. He wouldn't bother to deliver it himself. It would be insane to try something like this.
'Insane, but when no one knows your name or what you look like...'
The general closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He took a deep breath and tried to banish this sudden incertitude from his mind, and find of a suitable way to break the 'good' news to the Lords of the Council.
The mists surrounding him parted to reveal a large doorframe. He stepped into the darkness on the other side.
The old woman was there, as usual. Her long white hair and piercing teal eyes were the only things he could make out in the darkness. She spoke, unsurprisingly straightforward, her voice sending chills down his spine.
"You have met someone of great importance today. Someone who will play a great role in your future. Both your people and his endanger his life. But his part is not over yet." She looked him in the eyes. "Did I ever misguide you, child?" He shook his head in denial. "Then take my word. Protect him. He must not die today, do you understand? If he does, your destiny will not be accomplished. War and terror will reign again for thousand years."
All the four Angelian lords were in the council tent, seated at their ornate table on their comfortable settees. Marzio noted scornfully their furniture and wardrobe probably took up three entire transport wagons, and yet the things had no real utility. A waste of storage space.
"How could you let him get away?" Kelan yelled at Marzio the minute he entered. His face was red with fury, his eyes swelled and his gestures chaotic. "Do you realize how much information we could have got from him? Their positions, their contingent, their strategies!" He kept gesticulating as the general fought back a headache. It wasn't even noon yet.
Marzio chose not to take the bait. He posted himself in front of the man and said in a calm and controlled voice, "If you keep shouting, you'll never learn what he had to say to me."
"To you? You're nothing here! You only carry out our orders. We take the important decisions."
Marzio answered with an ironic smile on his lips, "You might want to remind the men that, Lord Kelan. Or, better, why don't you order them into battle yourself?"
Kelan paled. He had never been in the army, and was completely unaccustomed to military hierarchy and procedures. The only reason he was there was because his wife was the King's mistress. At her husband's suggestion, of course.
Realizing he was gaining ground, Marzio delivered the second blow. "Were you informed we're breaking camp?"
"I believe your Second-in-Command mentioned it to us," Lord Angus told him. "However, we have not discussed it and..."
"... and you have more important things to do with your time." The general smiled. 'All right, time for the breaking news.' "It appears our invasion has been anticipated. The Demons know why we are here. Prince Sagni-Dor kindly informs us that, should we not decide to retreat, they will attack us."
Lord Angus stared at him in disbelief. The man was not stupid, and he was by far the most open-minded of the four. Kelan and the other two were an entirely different story, however.
The chief advisor snorted. "If you're so well-informed, tell us, when will they do it? Or did that bastard forget to mention it, perchance?"
"I believe the exact word he used was 'imminent'. So I suggest you start packing. Unless of course, you want to stay behind and allow yourselves to be captured."
The Lords Angus and Gettik scrambled on their feet and left the tent immediately. Lord Elssi lingered for a short while, but, after seeing the looks on the other two's faces, he decided to take his leave as well.
Kelan kept staring at Marzio, rage getting hold of the older man. "You... You... idiot!" he screamed. "How dare you order me around?! Do you have any idea who I am?"
"You mean you ever gave me a chance to forget?" Marzio shot back.
"I give orders; you follow them. You had no authority to receive that Demon, or allow him to go back and inform his compatriots of our positions. Who do you think you are, to disobey your King's orders?"
"Your orders, not the King's. You ask who I am. I am the High Commander of the Army. I decide what is best for the safety of my men. I also decide our actions during war." Marzio was getting angry himself, and shot all the venom he had swallowed back into the man's face. "You, on the other hand, seem determined to lead us all to a certain death. You have no knowledge of the art of war, and of the rules one must follow. This is not the King's Court, where everybody tries to stab everybody else behind their backs! This is a battlefield. And everybody must act in consequence."
If the old man had anything to say, he was too surprised to do it. Eyes wide, he stared open-mouthed at the General, not believing what he was hearing. Marzio was not a violent man and did not lose his temper very easily; thus far he had put up with Kelan's pretences in order to be left alone to do his job properly. However, he was not about to stand by and watch his men getting slaughtered because of an old bastard's desire to look good in the eyes of King Teh-Kai.
"The Demons were aware of our positions from the moment we crossed the border. And they are damned well prepared to greet us properly. I, for one, am not planning on just standing there and waiting for them to butcher us. And the next time you're planning on insulting a Royal Emissary the way you did this morning, you might want to keep in mind you're thus offending the Prince of Demonis himself. That affront will not go unpunished."
Kelan still glared at Marzio, his body trembling with rage. He finally made for the entrance, but not before shooting the general a hateful glance. "Nor will yours, I can assure you." Then he left the tent abruptly.
Marzio leaned on the desk frame and took his head in one hand. He took a deep breath, then another. Slowly, inner tranquillity returned to him.
"I'm impressed." Ceni's voice was full of reverence. He stood at the entrance, looking calmly at Marzio.
The general smiled ruefully. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Since Lord Angus asked me to make sure you won't hurt anybody. He looked scared, too. I can see why."
He nodded. "You heard it, then."
"Me and half the army." The captain seemed genuinely amused. "But I must admit it was a very original way of informing the Lords we're leaving this place."
Marzio laughed. "Just as soon as they finish packing, of course. Is everything in good order?" He stood up and made for the opening of the large tent.
"As good as it can be, considering the haste." He followed his commander outside. "The Demon wouldn't have betrayed his people, would he?"
Marzio shook his head. "Not even under torture. It's how they are trained." Suddenly, something came back to him. He stopped and turned around to face the younger man. "Ceni, can you tell me how exactly was he able to sneak a dagger into my tent?"
The captain was dumbfounded. "A dagger?!"
Marzio shrugged and smiled. "Make sure that doesn't happen again." He left it at that, although he knew it was not that easy for his Second-in-Command. The High Commander's security was his task, after all.
The sea of tents had been replaced by a myriad of agitated soldiers and servants. His own tent had been dismantled, and his battle horse saddled. Ceni's mount stood near, ready as well.
His friend was agitated, and somewhat ashamed. He waited patiently for the man to finally say what was on his tongue.
"General..." Ceni finally tried. "I am terribly sorry. It was my mistake. I take full responsibility."
He nodded. "I don't think punishing you or your men will be a good idea, under the circumstances." Earlier, he had replaced his own dagger with the one the Demon had given him. It was a practical thing to do, because the thing was sharper than any weapon he had used before. He took it out of now, and handed it to Ceni. "What do you make of the crest?"
Ceni studied it carefully, then looked back at Marzio. "The Royal House of Demonis. The Demon didn't try to use this, I hope!"
"No, it was more like a gift." A faint smile crossed his lips. "Do you think it could have been him?"
The officer gazed at him. "You think their Prince risked his life to come and talk to you in person? Marzio..."
"Crazy, I know." He shrugged. "It was just a hypothesis. We'll probably find out soon, anyway. I have no doubt they will attack us as soon as the opportunity presents itself."
"Depending on how fast the emissary gets back to their camp. Any idea on the strategy they might employ?"
Marzio had long considered it, and had come to the only evident conclusion. "If they try it today, they will most likely try to block our way south. Unfortunately, we don't know how many they will be, or where their main effectives are stationed. They might have expected us to cross the Mauri further up- or down-river, and that would offer us some advantage until we find out what they're playing at. At any rate, right now we have to move fast and get out of this place and onto open plain as long as we still can."
Ignis awoke with a sharp cry. He felt a hand on his shoulder and hastily pushed it way. He looked around him in panic.
"Ignis!" Tempesta exclaimed. She gripped his arm with both hands, in reassurance. "It's just me. You have nothing to worry about."
He sighed and put his palm over hers, holding on tight. He was still a little dizzy. "Don't do this again. You scared the hell out of me."
"You were having another nightmare, and started babbling nonsense. What was I supposed to do, stand by and watch?" Tempesta retorted. "Besides, you're the one who asked me to wake you up when we're ready to go."
Relaxing a little, he stood up refusing her help and looked around for his armour. Like any warrior, he preferred a simple, unadorned one to the one his rank forced him to wear during ceremonies. That one weighed considerably more, and hindered his movements. Not to mention it would make him a certain mark in the eyes of the enemy.
Ignis pondered whether his attendant was anywhere near by. Just then, the boy showed up with his shield and sword, ready to help him prepare for battle. As he did, Ignis found it fit to ask his friend what was happening in the Angelian camp.
"Last time I heard, they were still packing," she laughed. "Of course, we cannot let them leave the party like this. Captain Alisi-Feit's regiment is ready to take its positions. The cavalry already did, and are impatiently waiting for the order to attack."
"And why, pray I tell, aren't you with them yet?" Ignis said looking at her while his attendant buckled up his breastplate.
She smiled again. "Just giving your lordship a last word of advice?!"
"I swear, you're worse than my mother ever was!" he growled. There were times when Tempesta could be extremely annoying.
"Yes, but she never had to make sure you wouldn't get killed. Or deal with any other details of her son's personality."
He braced his sword and picked up the polished helmet. "Alright, I shall mercifully spare you any further 'details' and say we can go now." He left the tent and jumped on his stallion.
She mounted as well, looking really intimidating in the saddle, all geared up and ready to fight her way out of hell if necessary. "You ready?" she asked.
"As ready as I will ever be," he replied. "Let's go. And remember, my dear General: Marzio Zain-Reil is not to be killed. He's much more valuable alive." He urged his horse on.
"Alive and naked and in your bed!" she shouted after him.
Ignis managed to laugh, for the last time before the great battle that would decide all their future. The Sorceress had been right again. It was his destiny.
Chapter Three
"Khest!" The Angelian High Commander cursed, looking at the infantry units taking position at the entrance of the valley. "Imminent indeed."
He noted with relief the Demons were outnumbered by his own troops. But was that really an advantage? At any rate, their only retreat route was now blocked, and they would have to fight to get out of the valley.
He ordered his cavalry to split into two. They had to act fast, less the enemy received reinforcements.
"They want to keep us in here until the rest of their troops arrive," said Ceni, leading his horse towards Marzio. "We should be able to break through fairly easily, though."
The general frowned. "I don't know... I really don't know. Maybe they have something else in mind..."
But what could that be? Demonis' armed forces couldn't be camped anywhere near. All he could see were rocks and trees. No river valley, no clearings, just thick forest surrounding them.
"Let us suppose their emissary was part of the vanguard. They send word for the rest of the troops to come, and they try to block us in here until their arrival," Marzio told his Second-in-Command. "In this case, all we need to do is break the blockade, and we may buy ourselves enough time to come up with a decent retreat plan."
Captain Mah-Kel agreed. "Should we deploy the cavalry, then?"
"Absolutely not! The longer we delay fighting at full potential, the better. Besides, there is not enough space. Infantry can handle this much easier. We keep the cavalry for the battles to come."
And on they went. Marzio ordered the cavalry to advance in line with the infantry, and later retreat and wait until the way was safer for them. He tried to estimate how many enemy soldiers were blocking their path, and came up with the conclusion it could not possibly be more than a division. Still, he was sure they were very well prepared and willing to die defending their positions.
"Don't take unnecessary risks!" he shouted, knowing that the squad leaders would make sure his order reached everybody. "The only thing we must do is break through their lines. There is no reason to butcher our way out!"
"They will not give up easily," Ceni warned, riding beside him. The young captain seemed excited at the prospect. He had never taken part in a real battle before. Marzio had. He did not remember it keenly.
"Try and relax," he told the younger man. "You have never fought the Demons before. It will be very different from what you expect."
"In training..."
"Forget the damned training! Your opponent was not really after your head then!" He sighed. He was getting anxious himself. "Demon soldiers are often full of unexpected surprises. Try and keep your mind clear of hatred, captain. After all, they are merely defending what is theirs."
Ceni looked at him, confused. He just smiled and turned his horse, riding off at the back of the lines. The Lords and their provision wagons were there, guarded by a squadron of riders.
"As soon as infantry makes the way clear, I want you to get through as quickly as possible," he ordered the chief sergeant. "Pay no attention to what the Lords say, tie them up if they won't come willingly, but get on the other side, understood?"
"Yes, General!"
He returned to his prior position, not too close to the first line but close enough to supervise their march. The cavalry was still flanking the rest of the troops, but as they slowly advanced it remained further back, making place for the footmen, archers and lancers. Their enemy made no move to retreat; on the contrary, they were keeping impossible still.
'There is no way they are going to let us pass through,' Marzio thought. They were close now, less then 1000 feet. If he tried a little, he could even determine their leader's position by his uniform.
He pulled out his farseer and took a better look at what lay ahead.
He had been right. One regiment of infantry. Not heavily equipped, but that was what worried him. Their movements would be easier than those of the Angelians, not being hindered by any armour or heavy weaponry. No sight of provisions anywhere, which indicated they either expected to die, or that the rest of the Demon army was not as far away as Marzio had hoped.
He looked more attentively. Near the last line, a couple of riders could be seen. The regiment commander and his aides. He thought he saw the uniform of the Prince's Guard, and his heart sank. The man could very well be Ignis.
Damn the liking he had taken on the officer! By Seleh, he was the enemy!
He gave Ceni the farseer. "Look at the officer further back. Recognize the uniform?"
"Prince's Guard. But it's not the same one we saw this morning."
The words offered him some relief. "What makes you so sure, captain?"
"I saw him on horseback when he came. Though both horses are black, this Demon has a different pose. And his armour is more adorned, which makes him higher in rank."
Marzio took the farseer and put it back in its case, not being able to suppress a relieved sigh. "Someone he trusts - Captain of the Guard, perhaps?" he suggested. "And if his Personal Guard is here, then probably the Prince is around as well. Did I tell you his emissary was a Dreak?" Ceni shook his head. "Well, it probably slipped my mind. But think of it, Ceni - a Dreak!"
"No wonder he was so proud. I heard that they are trained in such a way there are no feelings left in them safe for blind devotion to their sovereign."
Marzio shook his head. "No, Ceni; they are merely elite warriors. They have feelings just like the rest of us." Perhaps more, if one was to judge by what Marzio had seen in Ignis. "It is true, they will fight to the death. But that doesn't mean that they feel no mercy, or perhaps pity for those they kill. Meris Ignis seemed... disturbed by the prospect of a battle."
But they were really close, now. In fact, they were close enough to begin the attack. He pulled out his sword, and raised it above his head. When his hand fell, the Angelians gave one cry of battle and threw themselves upon the enemy.
Well hidden by the forest's thicket, the Demon cavalry observed the advance of the Angelian army. All was deadly quiet, and Tempesta knew it was the calm before the battle. May Drako hold them in his favour today!
At her left Ignis stood stiff on the back of his war stallion, kneading the leather reins through his gloved fingers.
"A little nervous, are we?" she whispered, for his ears alone. It was his first battle, after all.
"You know where I stand. I would not be here otherwise." The helmet covered his face, and she could not make out his expression. But, judging by his voice, he was really determined to go through with this.
In the valley below, the Angelian cavalry made way for the infantry to advance. Just like he had predicted. She wondered if he was by any chance able to read people's minds. Gods knowing, he sometimes acted like he actually did.
"I hope you were right. If not, we will lose the element of surprise."
"Don't worry," he replied, remaining motionless safe for his hands. "General Zain-Reil will not risk the lives of his men in vain. He knows breaking a path through our lines is his only way out. No use risking his men's lives in what looks like a minor battle."
The way in which he pronounced the last few words made her realize he too was aware of the outcome. Yet he had not seemed to be...
'There you go, underestimating him again!' She was used to it, by now. People frequently underestimated Ignis. It was not hard, with his innocent expression and that amazed look in his eyes. He made you easily forget who he was. Even easier to forget he probably was the best warrior in the land.
But he was not all-powerful. He was, in fact, desperate for company, even if he would have never admitted to it. He had been alone for far too long, and had gone through a lot of pain in the past five years. He needed support and friendship. And love, too, although she doubted it would be that easy for him to love again.
"Ready?" It had gone as planned, and the battle had begun in the valley. Captain Alisi-Feit was not taking any chances. Good.
She pulled out her sword and nodded. "When you are."
He signalled the men to begin the attack. That day was not going to be easy to forget.
It was working! Instead of trying to kill everyone on sight, all they had to do was break a path through the enemy lines, and keep it open for as long as the rest of the troops needed to get safely on the other side. The men fought hard and gained ground, and they advanced slowly but securely. The carts were slowly advancing, and the cavalry had yet to regroup. If things kept going this way, they would be through in less than one hour.
But something was not quite right. The Demons seemed to fight just as much as it was necessary to keep their current positions. They were not really stopping them, more like drawing out of the way slowly, then regrouping and striking again. What kind of tactic was this?
The officers he had seen before too were avoiding direct confrontation. They remained back, as if they were expecting some signal to engage in battle themselves. The Demons were too calm and too sure on their positions. There was more to this then it seemed. More... but what was it that the Angelians did not know?
Ceni noticed this too. "They're still not planning on fighting back. There is something that does not fit in. We are almost through. Are they not supposed to stand their ground and do their best to keep us from advancing?"
"Yes, they are. That is the general strategy." Unless... By the Gods! "Unless they were planning an attack from one of the flanks. Ceni, quickly, order the cavalry to engage in battle as well. We must break their lines, now!"
But, as he was saying this, a feral cry was heard from their back, accompanied by clatter of hoofs. He turned to see waves of Demon horsemen flowing down from the forests at their back, in a wild cavalcade.
Taken by surprise, the Angelians had little time to come to their senses. Before the shock passed, the Demon infantry was upon them as well. And these men they could see now were not the same ones that had been retreating in front of them. They had transformed into something furious and fearless, cutting their way through the Angelians like they would have done this every day of their life.
Marzio managed to fight back the wave of panic that had hit him at first, and started shouting his orders to those that could still hear him. They would not make it through without major losses, but they had to. Unfortunately, none of his men seemed to hear him through the wild cries and the uproar that was building all around. His voice was swallowed by the other sounds. Metal hitting metal; cries of pain and of victory; horses neighing, frightened by the battle. No way to get to Ceni either. He lost the man in the crowd. And he was forced to protect his own life, too.
He was attacked repeatedly, but he managed to remain on his horse, in one piece. His own rage took hold of him. There was no way he would let the Demons take him down easily. If it was a battle they wanted, then a battle they would get! He was not one to go down without a fight.
He took a blow on his left upper arm, but it was not serious and he kept on striking the enemies that came up to face him, trying his best to make the wounds his sword inflicted lethal. The blade was now slick with blood, but it did not matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
Marzio suddenly found himself right out of the range of battle, and took a minute to catch his breath before throwing himself back in again. His armour and uniform were stained with blood, some of it his own. But he'd be damned if he let things stay as they were now.
He looked around, trying to identify someone he knew. He saw Ceni, far off on his right, engaged in battle with the officer that had been leading the infantry. Or at least, he thought it was the same man. Somewhere to his left, he saw a Demon dressed in high uniform and adorned armour dispatching of as many enemies as he - she? - could. A woman... and by the fighting technique, he believed it was Tempesta Neri-Lokh.
He noticed other good fighters, both Angelian and Demon, engaged in battle to the death. But the one that caught his eyes was mounting a black stallion, and fighting like the evil spirits had taken possession of him. Clean kills, he remarked, amazed. Always clean kills, no pain for this man's opponents. A swift, merciful death.
'This one is mine,' he decided on the spot, and pushed his horse back into the sea of bodies.
The red-haired Dreak lost sight of General Zain-Reil, and for a moment he feared the Angelian might have been killed. But he had no time to think about it, being attacked by an enemy every time he managed to dispose of another. It was really hard to remember all the concepts that had been drilled in him during training. But, after a certain while, they became reflexes.
He had never thought the fight would be so chaotic. He could barely make out his own position. He had lost all sense of orientation. He could hear the river flowing somewhere to his right, so he guessed he had to be on the west side of the battlefield.
So much blood on his hands. So many lives on his conscience. But it had become a reflex. Raising the sword, thrusting it through the enemy's chest or throat, through armour or garments or skin. No feelings of what he was doing. Just the instinct to survive.
He could not see Tempesta or Owen anywhere near. He did not recognize anyone, but instinct told him his friends were still alive, somewhere in the rabble surrounding him.
He parried a blow with his shield. Another thrust, another kill. How long would this go on?
A shout of challenge made him turn his head and raise his shield just in time. The received blow was strong enough to deform the metal; one second later and he would have lost his left arm. Ignis caught sight of blood-covered armour and broadsword, and a silver helmet that shone in the sun of the afternoon. Then he had to parry another blow, and another.
This man was different from the others he had fought. This man had strength, and a good technique. He was a trained warrior.
He landed a few blows himself, trying to make the man drop his shield and be thus in disadvantage. One of them landed on the man's shoulder, the force of the impact making him drop his sword. He bent down quickly to catch it before it could hit the ground.
Ground? There was no ground under them. A sea of dismembered corpses was all that he could see.
Ignis allowed the Angelian to get his sword. He did not like to kill people who could no longer defend themselves. There was no honour in that.
He was prepared to begin the fight again. Just then, the man threw off his helmet, and Ignis' arm stopped in mid-blow. His earlier reticence returned.
The man he was fighting was General Zain-Reil.
He could not kill this man. He was forbidden to kill him.
His hesitation almost cost him his life. The Angelian raised his sword and was ready to deliver a final blow. But another Demon knight came from behind, and hit his right side. The sword broke through the armour, and with a short cry of pain the general dropped his weapon again.
The other Demon was ready to kill the enemy general, and Ignis shouted loudly so he could be overheard, "No! He is mine!"
They fought and fought and fought. The Demon would not give up easily either. Marzio hit, his opponent hit back. They were engaged in a deadly dance and only one could make it out alive.
Strike, parry. Strike again. Marzio's left arm was getting cramped and pain spread through it from the wound he had received earlier. He would not keep his shield for much longer.
He received a blow on his right shoulder. Luckily, it did not go through the armour, but it was strong enough to make him drop his sword. He bowed to recover it, not sure if this meant his death or not. He was lucky. The Demon allowed him to catch it in its fall. He would not kill an unarmed man, in a battle where little mistakes could prove fatal.
His helmet felt heavy on his head, and the sun had heated it to an unbearable temperature. He disposed of it. It meant exposing his head, but it did not matter anymore. He would either die or live; it was as simple as that. Having his head unprotected did not mean anything, really.
But something happened, then. The Demon suddenly froze in his attack. What was the meaning of that?
Now, he had to act now, and quickly. It was his only chance. Whatever had surprised his adversary was in his advantage. He had been wrong. He would be the one to live.
Metal hit metal. Pain crossed his side, making him scream. His hand fell, paralysed. He lost his sword, for good this time. He dropped the shield as well, holding his right side with his left hand. Fortune was against him, after all.
He said a quick prayer in his mind, asking Seleh to protect his family and Drako to take his soul to the other side. He fixed his eyes on the knight before him, to remember the man. Plain golden armour, red uniform. Golden helmet. Wild eyes, staring at him from behind the visor.
"Ignis?"
His sight blurred. Hot blood was wet on his hand, flowing free from the fresh wound. He was getting dizzy. He forced himself to keep his eyes open.
'Ignis?'
The other Demon raised his sword once more. He would strike again...
But Marzio was already falling through a dark abyss. Hands reached out to grab him. Light reflected on a blade above his head. The hands were snatching at him, pulling him down the horse. He tried to fight them, but strength had left him. He was lethargic, and his body fell downward. The hands still pulled at him. He did not want to go. But he had no choice. Never in his life had he had a choice.
Something hard stopped his fall. Someone shouted "He is mine!" but he did not know the voice. Who was it? Who was keeping him there? Darkness was all around him now. The voice was calling him. He could not move. He could not think. The voice kept calling, but it was far off and fading.
Who...?
Praise Drako! The Demon knight had heard him. He had recognized him. He had stopped.
The Angelian general's body dropped forward on his horse. The animal got frightened and neighed. He started running, past Ignis, through the men fighting on horseback or afoot.
He couldn't let him get away!
Ignis turned his horse and launched in a race against the runaway animal. The lines parted before him like waves in front of a ship. A part of his mind registered that the Angelians were dropping their weapons. They had seen the High Commander's body. They thought him dead, and were surrendering. No use fighting without a leader. Without the one that had been their support and in which lay all their hopes.
Nevertheless, Ignis kept shouting at his men, "Let the horse through. He is mine!" If one tried to stop the startled animal, it had to be by force. And if the body dropped from the saddle, then the Angelian could very well break his neck in the fall. There was little hope he was still alive, but it was something Ignis wanted to hang on to. If the general was still alive, he could heal him. He could save his life.
He would absolutely not let him die.
"Where in the seven hells are you going?" Tempesta shouted at him when he passed her by.
He did not stop his race. "Take care of the prisoners!" he shouted back, not sure if she had heard him. But she didn't need to be told what to do. It was her duty, after all.
He kept racing south, following the trail of blood the general's horse had left behind. Severe blood-loss was not a good sign. But he had to be alive.
His own stallion was getting tired. No matter, he was close now. He lunged his hand and managed to get hold of the reins. The other horse slowed down, to finally draw to a stop.
Ignis jumped from the saddle, pulling pulled the general's body down as well. Gently, less he would cause any more damage. He laid the man back on the grass and bent over him, checking for a pulse.
He found it. Slow, but it was there, and steady too. It gave him enough time to get into camp before actually beginning the healing process. This was good. He could do it properly, then.
He fought the tiredness he felt, and rose to his feet. He took off his cloak and tore a piece of cloth that was more or less clean, and slowly pushed it under the Angelian's broken armour, to slow down the flow of blood. He managed to get the man up and back on his horse. He mounted himself, grabbed the other horse's reins and began another wild race, back to the Demonis camp in the woods. He slowed down a couple of times, to make sure the general did not fall off his mount, but that was all. Every second mattered, now.
But he would make it in time. He was sure of it. He had to be sure of it. Hope was the last thing to die, or at least so it was said.
Chapter Four
The Demon camp was almost deserted, but it would not remain thus for long. If the battle was over, then the troops would return, bringing the prisoners with them. The corpses would be taken care of later. Buried in the ground, or burned and their ashes thrown into the waters of the Mauri, to be carried in the sea and then further into eternity.
He could imagine a sea of pyres over the sea of blood. Fire to cleanse what could not be cleansed. Fire to wash the ground that could not be washed. Fire to purify what could not be purified...
No time to think of it now. No time to sink into meditation. He had something more important to take care of. And what was at stake was not just his future, but the future of Demonis. Perhaps of Angelia as well.
Those that had remained behind to guard the camp ran and gathered around him as he dismounted, assailing him with questions. What had happened? Where were the others? Why had he come alone? And the unspoken curiosity on their faces: why had he brought an injured Angelian with him?
Ignis tried to reassure them. The others were all right. The battle had been won and they would return soon. The ones here had to make sure the healers were ready to treat all the wounded, not just the Demon ones. They should also prepare tents for the prisoners that survived. He had ridden before to inform everybody and make the necessary preparations. As for the man...
He could not find the proper words. He had brought him here because he had been given the order to save the man's life in a dream earlier that day. But he could not tell them that, lest the soldiers thought him mad.
... As for the man, he was the Angelian High Commander. He was a precious capture. He held all the information they needed to block any further attack. But he was injured, and he had to be taken care of.
He ordered them to go back to their posts and to let the healers know the wounded were coming soon. So many details to be taken care of before the rest of the army returned to camp...
Ignis dismounted and had to hold on the saddle for support for a moment. He was tired, so very tired. Physically exhausted. His armour was smeared with blood, his uniform ripped in a couple of places. Under his helmet, he felt his hair dripping with sweat. He took it off, only to have wet strands of it fall in a heap all around him. He probably looked really dishevelled, and was amazed that the soldiers had made no comment about it. Then he recalled they all knew what a battle meant. There was no time to sit around and make sure no rebel hair was in your face with the enemy wanting to kill you.
His attendant, Kheerah, took hold of the reins of his black stallion. He nodded, throwing him the other horse's reins as well.
He felt too drained to carry the General Zain-Reil's body on his own, so he asked one of the men that had remained behind, a young infantry sergeant - or so said his uniform - , to help him get the Angelian safely into his tent. The man gave Ignis a surprised look, but he obeyed. They laid the general on the pillows in the back of the tent, and by that point Ignis did not give a damn if they got dirty. He ordered the sergeant to go fetch his personal healer as soon as possible.
Kheerah came to help him remove his armour and stared at him aghast. He must have looked really frightening, like this. He sent the boy back out, to fetch plenty of fresh water. He then removed every piece of metal on his body by himself, letting them fall on the ground without a second thought. He removed the sweaty shirt as well. Minor wounds and some fresh bruises made their presence felt. No matter, none of them was serious. He would care for those later.
A bath would have been nice, but he postponed that too. He washed his hands and face in the small basin he always held in this tent and then quickly donned a fresh shirt. He wringed his tangled hair and managed to pull it back in a tail of sorts. Later, he told himself. He would take care of everything else later.
Not ten minutes had passed since he had entered the tent. He checked the general's pulse again. The heart was still beating. Blood was now staining the improvised bed, flowing slowly through cloth and armour.
He had to get that damned steel case off the man! With trembling fingers, he started to unlace the small hinges.
"You called, my lord?" the healer's voice interrupted him. "Are your injuries severe?"
He nearly laughed in the man's face. After seven years of harsh training in the core of the Black Mountains, a few scratches were not even worth mentioning.
"I can wait. It is this man that needs your attention, Zehi."
The healer approached. Zehi was an old man, but very devoted to his job. He made no comment at the fact he was expected to treat an Angelian. Healers were not supposed to care who the patient was, after all.
"The armour must go," the healer said calmly.
Like he didn't damned know that already. But he refrained himself from any remark, and nodded slightly. He managed to unfasten half of it by the time Kheerah was back with a bucket full of fresh water from a nearby spring.
"Milord, let me do it!" The boy hurried past him and knelt on the bed as well. Had he not been so tired, the blasted thing would have been off long before. But they had to be extra careful not to make the sharp edges cut further into the wound. Carefully, they lifted the breastplate. Then they removed the blood soaked tunic and shirt, and Kheerah pulled off his boots as well.
"Lordship, please go. I will take care of this," the healer asked him.
But he refused to go. He had to make sure all was well.
"No, I'm staying," he told the old healer firmly. "I'll sit in the chair over there, and watch you. In case anything goes wrong. In case you need any help."
Zehi accepted, although his expression said he was not very happy about it. But there was no way one could refuse a man of Ignis' status without endangering one's life.
He asked Kheerah to wash the general's wounds. Carefully. Then he watched the boy at his task, under the healer's guidance.
The Angelian had taken another hit, on his left shoulder, but it was no longer bleeding and could be ignored for the time being. The wound at the side was their immediate concern. The blood and dirt came off, and revealed the injured flesh to the sight. Crimson liquid was still flowing free, a thin rivulet that further stained the cushions. They would need to be replaced.
Later.
It had become his mantra. He had so many things to do, and he would do them all. Later.
But the flow had to be stopped, or else the High Commander would bleed to death. He must have already lost a great amount of blood, and it was very unsettling.
Loud sounds were heard outside. Some were screams of joy, and some of pain. The trotting of horses on the ground. The rest of the Army had returned.
He looked towards the entrance. He should go and tell them all would be well. He should go and tell them what their sacrifice meant. What winning the battle meant.
He found he could not move.
Something he had not realized crossed his mind. What if it was too late? What if General Zain-Reil could not be saved? What if he had failed?
"Go," the healer told him. "Go to them. I will take care of this man."
He looked at the old man, really looked, for the first time that day. He needed to know. "Will he live?"
"He lost a lot of blood. It will be difficult to close the wound. But I will do my best."
He shook his head. "If you can't, let me know. But do it before it is too late. There is one more thing I would like to try." Something he hoped would not be necessary.
Zehi was confused. Of course, everybody knew about his training. All knew that he was Dreak. But only his closest friends knew that he was Dreak not only by title.
He smiled. "If you doubt your own powers, call me. You understand?"
The man bowed reverently. "Yes, lordship."
He struggled to get up. He left the tent and looked around him, trying to see the results of the battle.
Two riders came his way. Tempesta and Owen. Unavoidable.
"What happened?" the woman asked after she dismounted. "You went after that horse and for an instant we thought you were lost to us."
"You two looked like you come from a bloody battle," he tried to joke.
"And we won, too," Owen answered casually. But at what price?
"Alright. Casualties, wounded, prisoners..."
"Already taken care of," Tempesta cut him off. "I figured you'd be too weary to do it yourself. Besides, it was my duty in the first place."
"How many have we lost?"
"Not by far as many as they did," Owen smirked. "I think we might have wiped off about a third of their army!"
'A third?! Oh, Drako, you have been cruel to them this time!'
The two officers fixed him. The question was obvious, and it did not need to be asked.
"Right," he sighed. "The man I brought in."
"General Zain-Reil." Tempesta spared him the utterance of the man's name. "Ignis, we have no right to question your decision. You always seem to have some obscure plan we're not aware of. But I really hope you know what's at stake, this time." She sounded tired and weary.
The setting sun gave him the notion it was nearly dark. Time had passed so quickly, he hadn't even been aware of it. Many torches were being lit, to provide the necessary illumination for the incoming troops. There was a lot of movement around the tents where the healers were quartered. Tired soldiers walked passed them, in search of their own bunks. After the storm, nobody gave a damn of what would happen later. Most of them were probably in some sort of trance.
"Did you manage to capture the rest of the General Staff?" he suddenly asked.
"The four lords were coward enough to stay out of the battlefield. We caught them trying to sneak past our lines. They were no real problem," Owen informed him. "Captain Mah-Kel put up one hell of a fight, though."
"So I figured." He looked at them, checking for injuries. Nothing major. "Keep them with the others for now. We can assign everybody separate quarters after a good night's sleep."
Just then, Kheerah interrupted them. "Healer Zehi says you have to come, milord. He says there's nothing more he can do. The Angelian is dying."
"And there goes my sleep," Ignis sighed. "I'll be right there, Kheerah." He looked at his two friends, studying them for a moment. They had no clue about what was going through his mind. Should he at least give them a hint of what he was planning to do? They knew him well enough to figure it out immediately, with a little help.
He smiled at them. "So, have a nice sleep, then. I will, too. After I make sure the general will not pass over on the other side, of course."
Ah, yes. That got them.
"You aren't planning..."
"Ignis, you can't possibly..."
He lifted his right hand, in a sign that meant to cut off any reproach or warning. "I will. There is no other choice I have left."
"But the last time you tried this, it nearly killed you!" Owen remembered it just as well as he did, the day he had last used that power on a dying man. It had drained him of almost all his energy. But then, it had been his teacher. Would he risk the same for an enemy?
"He must not die today, do you understand?"
'Damn her for being right! Why am I always put to the test in critical situations?'
"I will do this; you cannot stop me. And that is the end of this conversation." Those words being said, he returned to his tent, determined to do what he had to.
Healer Zehi was still bet over the Angelian's body. He heard Ignis come in, and bowed his head. "I am sorry, but I could not..." His voice trailed off.
"You did well," Ignis assured him. "Go help your kinsmen with the injured. I shall take care of him."
The man rose, and bowed again. "Should I send someone to help you with the body, your lordship?"
"There will be no body, Zehi. This man will live."
The voice in which Ignis had said those words had been calm and determined. The old man stared at him, in disbelief. He was none of his fellow Dreak. He could not understand what was bound to happen soon.
"He lost too much blood. He cannot live."
Ignis smiled. "May Drako's will be done."
Those were the ritual words for the beginning of the healing process. All regular healers knew them, and what they were for real.
A key. They were a key to unchain the raw power hidden in the members of the Order.
The Dreak were no healers. They were warriors. But their gift was a great one, and it required a lot of training to be controlled. Using this often was not recommended.
But it was the only chance the Angelian general had. And it was also the only chance Ignis had to prove to himself once and for all that he knew what his real potential was.
He guided his hands over the wound on the general's shoulder. He would start there, for it was much easier to cure and he had not used this power in a long time. 'Don't touch it yet!' He felt the force building up, the chill that spread through his body announcing the surge of energy. The eerie glow around his hands would soon be visible.
An awed whisper came to his ears. "Are you going to...?"
"Heal him?" He looked back at the man, to find him staring in disbelief. "It is in my power as a Dreak to do so. You may stay and watch if you want."
Zehi approached him, reverently. "In all my years, I have never witnessed this. I knew about its existence, but I never dreamt it could take place before my very eyes."
"I am not a research specimen," he said firmly. "You may stay or you may leave. But if you choose to stay, and in any way disturb me during the process, I will have your head. Understood?"
Then, completely ignoring what decision the healer took, he closed his eyes and let the power guide him, like it had many times before.
Marzio slowly started to regain his senses. The first thing he felt was a chill running through his fevered body, taking away all the pain he felt. Numbness engulfed him, and he didn't try to move, knowing full well that he couldn't.
Then he felt the gentle touch of hands caressing his side, and realized they were the source of the pleasantness he was feeling all over. But so soon they ceased their movements, and he was left longing for more.
They were replaced by a soft wet cloth delicately scrubbing his sides and torso. It was soothing, and he welcomed it. And if before he had doubted of his capacity to move, now he didn't dare do it.
He could recall taking a serious blow through the armour, and passing out just as the Demon officer had raised his sword to strike. Then it was all darkness and pain.
The two caressing hands returned, soft fingers kneading the muscles of his shoulders, then trailing down his arms and back up again. They continued the exploration of his upper body, sinuously moving over his chest, lingering over his flat stomach. His body started giving him unsettling signals, and he suddenly caught himself wishing the hands grew bolder and went lower down.
They did not. Instead, they moved back up again, stealthy trailing over both sides of his neck. One ended up tangled in his hair, and the other caressed his cheek, smooth fingers barely touching the burning flesh. A faint breeze passed over his face - the whispered breath of the one leaning over him. Two silken lips met his, as shy and fleeting as the hands had been, afraid they would get caught stealing a kiss.
The Angelian general forced himself to open his eyes. It was easier than he had expected, and as his sight accommodated to the near-darkness around him, he caught glimpses of the angel that had been leaning over his body. It had drawn back slightly, and its wide burning eyes were fixed on him.
He had to be either dead, or delirious, for the angel resembled someone he could only dream of. Long red strands framing a beautiful face, slender white shoulders; eyes lovingly blinking at him in surprise; even the broad black-feathered wings were there. Indeed, a wondrous dream angel it was, a faithful image of the original.
A fleeting smile crossed the fine features, and the angel drew near again. 'Yes, kiss me again...' Marzio tried to say, but no words came out.
"You are safe now," the angel whispered, its face so close to his they were nearly touching. Long fingers caressed Marzio's cheek once more. "Nobody will hurt you. I won't allow it. Go back to sleep..."
His eyelids closed again, and a content sigh escaped his lips as he sank back into blessed oblivion.
"What you are planning to do is absurd," whispered a high-pitched voice that brought Marzio back into awareness. "You cannot possibly keep him with you for the rest of the journey back home!"
"He is not well enough just yet," a familiar voice replied. There was shifting and rustling, and the sound of feet quietly walking away.
Marzio half-opened his eyes, and dim light inundated his sight. He blinked in order to clear his vision. Then he tried to raise himself up and take in his surroundings. He succeeded, with little effort.
He looked around him and discovered he had been lying on a dozen or so large black satin cushions and covered with a warm blanket made of fine crimson-dyed wool.
He was in what seemed to be the tent of a superior officer. From what he could see, it was not very large, yet exquisitely set up to accommodate its owner.
There was little of the furniture one usually expected to find. A heavy mahogany chest on the left side, with a heavy lock on it. A smaller one, of the same material, that supported what he thought was armour and shield. To the right, two chairs, one empty and one loaded with various clothing items, and a small table with a washing basin, soap, a towel and a mirror.
The low illumination was due to a heavy curtain hanging a few feet away from the improvised bed, parting slightly in the middle to allow access to this section of the tent. Voices could be heard on the other side, silently arguing, probably trying not to wake him up.
He noticed he had been stripped to the waist while he had been unconscious. He remembered the wound, and instinctively touched his palm to his right side. Smooth skin met his touch - no pain, no blood, no scar. Like it had never been there.
Marzio tried to stand up and managed to fight back the dizziness he felt. Staggering, he made for the chest that supported the golden armour, and took a better look. It was plain and unadorned, the crest of Demonis the only ornament he could spot on the shield. He was a prisoner, then.
He touched his hand to the shield, taking in the coldness. If he thought about it well, he could still hear the sounds of battle, weapons clashing violently, metal against metal...
He drew back. Slowly, he approached the small table at the other end of the tent. But, when he had almost made it, a wave of nausea swept over him. He fell on his knees, closing his eyes and gripping the end of the table for support. The small polished mirror fell on the ground with a bang.
An instant later, two strong hands caught hold of him, lifting him up and forcing him to sit down in the empty chair nearby. Marzio leaned back, allowing the queasiness to fade. Since there was no escape, he decided he might as well face his captor.
His eyes first fell on a woman of medium height, with long curly hair and dark eyes, who returned his scrutiny standing in the shadows a few feet away. He could not make out much of her face in the dim light, but the cut of her clothes indicated she was wearing a uniform. Also, her right hand rested leisurely on the hilt of her sword, and the Angelian was certain she would not hesitate to use that weapon against him if she considered it necessary.
Then the woman turned and spoke to someone who was at Marzio's right, someone whose presence the general had been aware of but whom he had yet to see. "I see your guest has awakened," she told her companion. "I'll leave you two alone, then."
Marzio's eyes followed her abrupt departure, and then searched for the other Demon, most likely the owner of the tent. A little smile and a familiar face met his gaze, and the general found himself breathing sharply as the Demon closed the distance between them and placed a slender palm on Marzio's forehead.
Nodding, the Demon leaned back against the small table, crossing his hands over his chest and looking down at Marzio again. "Your fever has dropped. That is very good news."
The general blinked. "Where am I?" he asked.
"My tent, obviously," the young man replied, visibly amused at the silly question. "Where else did you think you were, General?"
"The battle..."
"... is long over. I have warned you. It would have been better for you and your army to turn back."
"What happened to my men?" he inquired on a worried tone of voice. "I can't recall..."
The Demon seemed to indulge him. "About one third were either killed or severely injured. I am really sorry, I had hoped it would not go this far."
He nodded, grieved. One third! What a carnage!
"The rest surrendered after you were injured. All of them were taken prisoners. However, I can assure you they are treated as humanly as possible. Although you have lost, there is no reason to humiliate any of you."
He seemed convinced of his words. Marzio wondered if it was because he really cared, or if it was just a mask displayed for the sake of his captive.
Meris Ignis straightened his body and took a few steps past the general. He picked up a shirt from the pile of clothing on the other chair and handed it to Marzio. "Put it on. It would not do to have you walking around camp half-naked."
Marzio pulled on the blue silk garment. It was clean and smelt of freshness and lavender. His boots appeared in his hands out of nowhere, and he put them on as well. He was offered a hand up and he gladly took it.
"There's more light on the other side of this curtain; I like to see the faces of those I speak with," the Demon said while he gently guided Marzio past the heavy curtain, into the part of the tent he had not seen yet.
Chapter Five
Daylight and fresh morning air stormed in through the lifted cloth of the entrance. Marzio was directed on towards an opulent and magnificently carved ebony desk that occupied almost the entire right side of the tent. It was covered in maps and numerous other papers, as well as some heavy volumes of indiscernible content. There were several chairs around it, made of the same wood, but only the one on the opposite side from where they stood had the same exquisite design as the desk. The others looked plain, yet comfortable.
The Dreak helped him sit in one of these, and turned to a table on the other side, picking up a bottle and pouring wine in two glass goblets. Returning to the desk, he offered one to Marzio. The general accepted, and sipped a little of the ruby liquid. Rare and expensive - just like everything else in the tent. Good taste and plenty of gold were two things Ignis did not seem to lack.
The young Demon placed his glass on the desk, lowered himself in the chair at Marzio's left and leaned back, apparently feeling quite at ease.
"His Majesty King Teh-Kai would give half the treasury for this desk," Marzio told him, catching his breath.
Ignis sounded amused. "I believe he would. Yet I doubt he would do the same thing just to see his subjects free and safely back home."
"Is that the price of our release?"
Ignis looked at him, his face unreadable again. "We have no need for Angelian gold. What we desire is peace between our two lands. That is all we shall ever ask from you or your people, Lord Marzio."
A startled laugh escaped Marzio's lips. "Nobody has ever called me a 'Lord' before. Please, don't make a habit of it. You can even call me by my given name, if you want." The Demon officer nodded back at him. "May I call you by your name too?"
"I fear my countrymen would not appreciate that very much. But I have no objection if you do so when there is just the two of us present." Ignis stared back at the general, silent for a short while. It looked like he was searching for a way to express something that was on his mind. Finally, he voiced it. "Are you really feeling well? The wound was clean, and no vital organs were touched. However, you have lost a lot of blood."
"I remember taking the blow, but..." There was no pain. No wound exposed to the eyes. He stared back at Ignis, not comprehending.
"Even I had my doubts that a healing would be possible. Still, it worked, and better than I had initially expected. You probably remember nothing of the process, as you were unconscious during it. I am amazed it only took you one night to recover."
One night? Everything had happened just the day before? Impossible.
"How...?" His words wouldn't come out and he cleared his throat. "If I was injured only yesterday, how was it possible for my injuries to heal in such a short amount of time? No healer I know holds such power."
"It is the gift of Drako," came the reply. "I don't expect you to fully understand any of it, of course. All Dreak warriors have this power; but it varies in intensity. At any rate, you will never meet anyone other than the Dreak that can use it the way I did last night."
"So I was right. You are one of them."
"Please, General. You make it sound as if it were a curse. I am proud to be 'one of them', as you put it."
Marzio focused his eyes on the desk, not willing to look at him. He was starting to fear Ignis. To hold power over life and death... how many of their countrymen could one Dreak have saved by using it?
Marzio's people considered that befriending a Demon was a pact with Drako, which to the Angelians was not only the God of War but also of Destruction. Yet there were those willing to risk it. He was beginning to get a vague idea why.
Something suddenly caught his eyes. On the desk, among various papers, there laid a dagger. He recognized it as the same one that had been given to him. He reached his hand to pick it up, then remembered what his current position was and retracted it, smiling in apology.
Ignis picked up the dagger himself, and handed it to him.
'Such infinite trust!' Marzio shook his head, refusing to accept it. "It is of exquisite craftsmanship. I'm glad it found its way back to you."
"It has a certain amount of emotional value," Ignis said.
"Why didn't you use it, back in our camp?"
The Demon laughed. "I have no desire to see you dead, Marzio." The way he pronounced his name was nothing like the Angelian had heard before. The different accentuation gave it a musical sound, and it sent a little shiver down his spine. "I had plenty of occasions to take your life, and you know it," Ignis continued. "In your camp, during the battle, in this very tent..."
Long fingers flexed on the hilt, and then the dagger was placed back on the desk. Ignis rose, and trailed an elegant finger on the polished black wood. "However, I am afraid I must now put an end to our little conversation. I still have many important things to take care of."
He clapped his hands and two armed guards promptly entered the tent. The Prince's Guards again, he noted. Was he considered that dangerous?
Ignis smiled, apologetically. "You have to go with them. There is no more reason for you to be here. All your belongings were taken to the tent assigned to you and your General Staff. We had to search your luggage for weapons. But that is all we took; the rest is at your free disposal. Naturally, you will be under strict surveillance. Still, should you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. It will be granted, provided it is acceptable."
"Thank you, Meris Ignis. I shall keep that in mind." He bowed and let the two soldiers escort him out.
From his first days in captivity, General Marzio Zain-Reil began to have a lot of respect and admiration for his enemies.
The one thing that had really bothered him greatly had been that he and his Second-in-Command had to share a tent with the Lords of the War Council. The only one he could reasonably talk to, besides his trusted Ceni, was Lord Angus. He argued with Kelan every day, over small things such as a dish that was served to them or a meaningless word that had been misplaced in a phrase. Captivity supposedly made countrymen, were they the worse of enemies, get along and co-operate for the common good. It looked like this wasn't the case here.
When asking Meris Owen about it, the man had shrugged and replied, "You are easier to guard like this. Besides, we don't have many spare tents at our disposal."
The Dreak's honesty had been a pleasant surprise, and it somehow encouraged him to ignore most of the barbs Kelan threw at him daily. This new self-control had amazed even Ceni, who kept telling him the red-haired Demon had not only healed him, but had increased his will power as well. Marzio was beginning to wonder about it himself.
Meris Ignis, to whom he had petitioned all his requests, had turned out to be a very influential person. They were allowed to take small walks outside the tent, and the clever Dreak had even somehow managed to obtain his Prince's permission for Marzio to visit the rest of the Angelian troops in order to see their situation and asses the losses. Marzio himself had never come face to face with the Demon sovereign; but his presence was always there, looming over them.
Of course, they were never let out of their guards' sight. In fact, the Prince of Demonis seemed to consider them worthy of appointing his own Captain of the Guard as their warden.
This man was Owen Alisi-Feit. He, too, was young - 25, Marzio had learned upon asking -, but a good fighter and reliable man; he had been the one in command of the blockade squadron. And, naturally, he was Dreak. Relatively tall and well-built, he imposed on those around him. However, he lacked the extraordinary charisma Ignis emanated.
The officer watched over them day and night. He wasn't present at all times, nevertheless he seemed to show up when less expected. Ceni even wondered if the man ever slept.
Once, he surprised the Angelians by having dinner with them. Lord Kelan had tried his best to irritate him, and failed at it. Owen had never been truly bothered. He held the same dignified pose his fellow Dreak had held while standing in front of Marzio's tent not one week before.
One difference between the two, however, was that Owen had a stinging tongue. While Ignis had so far always veiled his allusions, using carefully-chosen words and leaving plenty of room for interpretation, the captain did no such thing. In fact, when Kelan had practically told him in the face they were barbarians, letting women fight together with men and rule them, he had replied without even blinking, "Yes, and apparently they have enough courage to do so without being pushed from behind. As you could notice, General Neri-Lokh has managed to defeat your troops with no major problem."
They had not yet discussed the topic of their defeat openly.
"You would have been crushed had the cavalry not arrived at just the right moment," Lord Gettik quickly commented.
"Quite an impressive strategy, wouldn't you say?" Meris Owen replied, looking at Marzio for some unknown reason. "His Highness came up with it." He seemed proud, and rightfully so. This also confirmed the Marzio's early suspicions concerning Lord Lavian's lack of involvement in this campaign.
"Excuse me, Captain, but will we get the chance to meet His Highness Prince Sagni-Dor?" Lord Angus asked politely. At least he showed more diplomacy then the other three, Marzio noted.
Owen smiled. "I cannot say, that is for him to decide; all I am allowed to tell you is that he is here in camp. You might have even caught a glimpse of him during the battle."
None of the four had taken part in the battle, and the Demon knew that. They couldn't have possibly seen him. Marzio thought back at the many worthy warriors that he had noticed that day. Had one of them had been the prince himself?
Another time, the Captain had been kind enough to answer some of his questions. Marzio had asked for more information about the Dreak, stating openly his respect and consideration for who they were and what they represented.
"Not many make it past the training period," the proud Demon had confessed. "Five to ten from about one hundred cadets. We are the peace keepers of Demonis, and serve the Prince to our death."
Marzio understood that, to some extent. But he knew too little on their customs and beliefs, and he had a curiosity of his own. "What about the healing powers? When I was injured, Meris Ignis has..."
He didn't know exactly how to put it. Angelian healers used herbs and ointments. But what had been done to him was nothing of the sort.
Owen laughed at his ignorance. "The power is inborn. We learn to control it in time. You should consider yourself lucky, General Zain-Reil. Ignis is one of the most skilled of our Order. Had he not been here, you would probably not be speaking to me right now. That wound took you nearer to death as you might imagine."
Marzio had sensed a sting of jealousy when Ignis' name had been mentioned. "Are the two of you well-acquainted, Meris?"
That remark earned him an offended look from the young captain. "We were in training camp together. He and I were fierce rivals." He lowered his eyes. "I don't think I have to tell you who won all the time. I have always envied him. But we are friends now, General. And that is all you will get from me regarding our gracious Ignis."
As for Ignis himself, Marzio never met him again since that morning he had spent in the Demon's tent. He caught flashes of him here and there, always accompanied by either a dark-haired woman or Owen. Marzio had thought Ignis had been watching him while inspecting the Angelian troops, but when he had taken a better look, there had been no one there.
However, the Demon had been right. There had been severe losses, and many men had died from the wounds received in battle. However, they all had acceptable lodgings, and were indeed treated honourably. Marzio was also informed that an emissary had been sent to Quiris, carrying a message for King Teh-Kai of Angelia. The Prince of Demonis requested the signing of a long-term peace treaty and a new trade agreement between their lands, in exchange of the return of his men. True to Ignis' words, no mentioning of any gold had been made.
Marzio knew that the King would not initially accept. But he would be forced to, because more than half the labour force had left on this expedition, peasants enlisting themselves in the army in exchange of a sum of money that could assure their family's survival. If the men did not return, there was no one left to work the land, and this meant losing the major source of income the country had - agriculture. So yes, the King was forced to accept, at least until his men were returned to him.
On the seventh day of each week, the Demon soldiers had their regular time off. There were several activities in camp during that day. Archery and fighting competitions were being held. Marzio and the other high-ranked Angelians had been allowed to participate in any of them, if they so chose.
Ceni had decided to take part in the hand-to-hand fights, and had managed to win several of those. The Demons had been impressed with the man's fighting techniques. Lord Kelan and Lord Elssi had entered the archery competition. Both men were fairly good hunters, and had a certain dexterity with the bow, but they were no match for the battle-trained soldiers they were up against. Lord Gettik had preferred to stand by and look at them while they were defeated, and Lord Angus was off somewhere as well, but Marzio had no idea exactly where. He later found out the man had accepted to go hunting with Owen and some of their guards. They seemed to enjoy the man's company.
That left Marzio alone in the tent, not willing to show off in front of some men that were, after all, the enemy. He preferred to sleep later than usual, and have a break from the taunting and tormenting he was exposed to daily. After a late breakfast, he picked up a book he had read several times so far and was beginning to think he would eventually learn by heart. He got through the third chapter when a discrete cough interrupted him.
The general looked up, startled to find Ignis leaning against one of the poles by the entrance, studying him. The Demon was not in uniform, for once. Instead, he wore brown leather leggings, a white silk shirt and a sleeveless brown tunic that reached down to his knees. His hair was pulled back in the thick plait again, and Marzio pondered if he ever wore it free on his shoulders.
The Demon offered a polite smile when his presence was acknowledged, and Marzio grinned back at him, genuinely happy with the disturbance. "Would you care to join me, or would you rather stay there all day?" he asked the younger man.
Ignis took the few steps separating him from the opening and had to bow his head a little while entering. "I was planning on asking you the same thing, General. Why aren't you out with your friends? They are quite enjoying themselves. Or would you rather not socialize with the enemy?"
"Actually I'd rather keep away from my 'friends', thank you very much. But I have nothing against you being here, of course."
It was Ignis' turn to giggle. "Not that you would be given much choice in the matter. Is your reading interesting so far?" he said, pointing at the small leather-bound volume.
"As much as a treatise on hunting mountain bears by an author that has never seen any can be," Marzio said, closing the book and handing it to Ignis.
The Demon browsed through it, shaking his head occasionally. "This is quite inaccurate. I can lend you a better one, if you want." He sat down at the table elegantly, and placed the volume on the wooden surface. "Although I doubt you'll ever come across such animals in Angelia."
"That makes two of us," Marzio agreed. "However, I've had my share of game in the forests of Pythia."
"Did your father take you hunting?"
"My uncle, actually. Father died while I was still a child. Mother, my sister and I went living with his brother, the Count of Meralda. He had no children, and named me his heir. What about you?"
"Me?" Ignis smiled mysteriously.
"Yes, you. It is obvious that you are nobility. Now, I may not be familiar with your land, but I do know some of the major families and..."
"I'd rather not speak of it, if you please," the man cut him off. "Instead, tell me more about you and your family. And Pythia. It's a western region, right?"
So Marzio found himself recounting things he had almost forgotten, tales of his infancy and adolescence, about his father and uncle and his earlier times in the army.
The morning slowly turned into afternoon, and now the sun's rays penetrated through the entrance and fell on the Demon's face, making his red hair shine in a myriad of different shades. Ignis still listened to him, leaning in the chair, silently laughing at some of the tricks Marzio had recalled playing on his peers. "I used to do that, too," he finally confessed. "A lot. I was not an obedient child. I caused my father major headaches."
"You don't really strike me as the type, Ignis," Marzio quickly noted, trying to use the opportunity and learn more about the young warrior. "You look more like the 'quiet and innocent' type."
"Innocent? Surely, you must be jesting. I am no more an innocent than you are - take my word on it."
"And what were some of these pranks, then?" He was now truly curious.
Ignis thought about it a little, "I used to torment my tutor a lot. He was a good man, but rather severe. My father wanted it that way." There was a hint of regret in the words, and unhidden discomfort at the mentioning of his parent; but he continued nonetheless, "Of course, there was no way to stop an eight-year-old from getting what he wanted. I used to place frogs in his wine glasses, or spices in his dessert. Nothing major, really. But it is in small things that I find happiness. The day he sat down on a sleeping cat was totally hilarious."
"Then you're not so different from us, after all. We all did this sort of things at one time in our lives."
Ignis regained his composure. "I have always been different, Marzio. Always. And not only because of my fair features or healing powers, mind it. But that is something else I'd rather not discuss right now." He stood up and offered, "Come, join me for a walk."
Marzio checked his own clothes for a second. Short blue tunic, breeches of a darker blue and leather boots. Acceptable. He caught up with Ignis and together they made their way through the myriad of tents, towards the improvised archery range. Many of the soldiers were gathered there, and they bowed and made room for them when Ignis showed his intention of approaching the archers, Marzio close on his heels. Kelan was still there, but seemed rather concentrated on the competition and did not see them come.
Ignis' goal was the long-haired woman the Angelian general had seen him with before - the same woman that had been in Ignis' tent on the morning after the battle, he suspected. She was near the wooden fence, leaning on the long bow she held in her left hand, and watched them as they came towards her. She warmly shook hands with Ignis, and whispered something in his ear while eyeing Marzio questioningly.
Ignis chuckled and whispered back. Then he turned back to the Angelian, a brilliant smile on his face. "General Tempesta Neri-Lokh, meet General Marzio Zain-Reil."
Tempesta Neri-Lokh was of about Marzio's age, but she was not at all what one expected. She was shorter than any of them, and very feminine in her own way. She would have looked beautiful in a gown, Marzio concluded. Her uniform was that of the Royal Guard of Demonis, and the tight cut only helped emphasise her womanly curves. She wore her curly dark auburn hair in a ponytail, and her brown almond-shaped eyes shone as she gave him a better look. Her chocolate skin was no doubt also the result of a life spent mostly out of doors, and she had the same attitude Ignis possessed, that of a person secure on her surroundings.
She shook his hand coolly, then placed a small hand on Ignis' arm and whispered in his ear again. Marzio found he was a little jealous at the familiarity between the two. Then she headed for the place where the men were still shooting.
"What's wrong with her?" Marzio asked Ignis.
"She and I do not hold the same ideas regarding your confinement. Don't worry, she will get over it."
Marzio stared at him, perplexed. "You argue with your Supreme Commander and all you have to say is 'she will get over it'?"
Ignis shrugged, as if he did this on a regular basis. "She is my friend. Come. She will show your Lord Kelan what our woman warriors are capable of."
And the Demon general did just that. Lord Kelan was furious that evening, and Marzio laughed silently, remembering that the chief advisor had probably never even thought a woman would have more skills at shooting a bow than he did. So much for the 'family values' the man strongly promoted.
As the second week slowly passed, Ignis made himself invisible again, but Captain Alisi-Feit brought Marzio several books on his behalf, including a heavy volume called "The Concise History and Customs of Demonis" and two hunting treaties on mountain bears. Owen had assured him they were all quite accurate.
Still, Marzio started getting more and more irritated by Lord Kelan and his provocations. They seemed to be the only things the old man actually thought of all day long. He felt the urgent need to strangle him, chief advisor or no chief advisor.
That day things had been worse than usual. When the Captain of the Guard finally showed up, late in the afternoon, Marzio decided to attempt the impossible. While the Lords were out 'stretching their legs a little', under heavy surveillance, he addressed the Dreak.
"Excuse me, Captain," he said, sounding more exhausted then he actually felt, "but I must request to be given different quarters. You heard with your own ears what that man barks at me. I am getting past all levels of endurance. If you do not find a way to split us up, I fear I might actually do him physical damage."
Stretched in a chair, Meris Owen thought about it for a little while. His brown eyes narrowed, and his left brow trembled a little. "You are right." With one hand, he pushed the auburn strands back from his face. "I shall take this up with General Neri-Lokh or the Prince. You should be glad, my lords," he added loudly, so that the four men that had just entered the tent could hear him. "I'm having this weekend off."
"Finally, some time to breathe," Kelan replied hurriedly, not caring that the man had heard him loud and clear.
"Don't be so sure about that." Meris Owen's glacial smile was flawless. "I doubt the one that will be replacing me will be any better. There are only two choices, and you won't be happy with either of them."
"And those are?" Lord Elssi inquired.
"One of them is our very own Supreme Commander - I trust you know by now just how 'tolerant' she can be. The other one, and my personal favourite for the job, is Meris Ignis." The same smile on his face, he cast a quick glance to catch Marzio's expression. "And trust me, though one wouldn't say at first sight, he can be hell on earth if properly encouraged."
Marzio was stunned. Ignis had never struck him as a violent or an evil person. And the gentleness in his eyes as he had... 'Put that out of your mind! It was just your imagination! You were probably delirious!' Yes, Ignis probably was someone to be feared. And Kelan had already made him his enemy without even knowing.
"Who is this Ignis we keep hearing about?" Lord Angus asked him after dinner, careful not to be overheard.
"The messenger they sent to our camp before the battle. Please allow me to warn you, Lord Kelan was not exactly very diplomat on that occasion."
But all hell broke loose the following day. Apparently taking for granted the fact no one was there to watch them, Kelan started insulting him again. Marzio tried his best not to hit him when the chief advisor called him a coward. But, when the old man insulted his mother and his family's honour, he just couldn't take it anymore. Kelan actually had the nerve to slap him, and Marzio felt his lower lip bleeding as he caught hold of the man's gold-trimmed tunic. Ceni tried to hold him back, tearing his shirt in the process, but it was all in vain. He landed a punch in the fool's face, and was about to hit him again, as a strong voice commanded, "Stop it! Now!"
After a long and heated debate, Lady Tempesta had agreed to let Ignis personally watch over the prisoners for the next two days. Somehow, the young man always seemed to get what he wanted and convince her it was the best thing to do, in spite of better judgement. It came natural to him, and that could be frightening at times.
'It must run in the family,' she thought while waiting for him to return from his daily training. 'I wonder if there is someone immune to his charisma...'
Just then, agile like a mountain lion, Ignis entered the tent. His shirt was soaked with sweat and clung to his marvellously built torso, showing him at his best in the tender light.
"I know at least one other person who would love to see you like this," she told him.
He shot her a mischievous glance. "Oh, you do? I thought I'd wear a uniform today, but now that you mentioned it... maybe I should just go as I am."
And that, after taking the shirt off and throwing it on one of the chairs!
"You will do no such thing," she retorted. "Unless, of course, you want him drooling all over the table during lunch."
"And we can't have that, can we now?" he considered.
"I'm coming with you. I want to take a better look at this Angelian, since he seems to be your favourite topic of conversation lately."
Ignis giggled, as he pulled on a fresh shirt and donned his tunic. Emerald green velvet. 'So he's playing the Dreak warrior again.'
They made their way to the large tent that had been assigned to the prisoners. "I swear, poor Owen doesn't know how to stay out of your sight anymore. You practically interrogate him every night. 'What did he do? What did he say?' Really, Ignis..."
He only shrugged. "May I remind you it is my business to know? He is our most important adversary."
"Yeah, right! I bet that's why you were so glad to accept his request."
"Oh, shut up already! Lord Kelan can be really exhausting. Not to mention irritably shrewd and insulting. In fact, I wonder how a man with the General's passion has managed to refrain himself for this long. It's a miracle he..."
All of a sudden he stopped talking. He had just stepped inside the prisoners' tent, and she had followed him closely, only to find two of the Angelians engaged in a fight. In fact, a younger one, whose face she couldn't see from behind, was in the process of applying what looked like a really hard punch in the face of Lord Kelan, whom he held tightly by the front of his tunic.
"Stop it! Now!" she shouted, as Ignis looked at the scene before them, a little baffled.
They did stop. The younger man dropped the other on the ground with no sign of respect and turned to face them. Immediately, she recognized the green eyes. Marzio Zain-Reil, of course. He seemed in excellent shape, but for the torn silk shirt and a rivulet of blood running down the right corner of his mouth.
She turned to Ignis, only to find him looking at the Angelian general, wide-eyed. He did not move or speak, just stared, a fire she had never seen before lighting his eyes.
Chapter Six
Finally, Ignis seemed to somehow remember how to breathe, and did so. He had been prepared to see Marzio again, the strength that had left him with the blood he had lost fully recovered by now. But he had not expected to see him like that.
He reverently ran his eyes over the man's body - all muscles, tense and prepared for battle. The torn shirt revealed some of the beautifully sun-tanned skin of the man's chest. Ignis felt his breath catch again.
Blood! There was blood on his face!
He wanted to reach out and touch those silken lips again, kiss the blood away and run his hands through the golden hair, over the velvety skin... 'Ignis, what are you thinking?!'
Tempesta's voice brought him back to reality. "Guards! Seize them both!"
That definitely had the effect of a cold shower. For a moment, he had lost all contact with the surrounding world. He closed his eyes, cleared his head and then looked again at the two men. Marzio was looking back at him, green eyes wide. Kelan - that is, he thought it was Kelan, for the man had disgusted him so much he didn't even bother to remember his face - was shaking with fury, held back by four of the Guards.
'Why did you do it?' Ignis wanted to ask Marzio. 'Why couldn't you wait just a little longer?'
"Escort the General to my tent!" he found himself ordering. Tempesta looked at him disapprovingly, but the guards followed his command, leading the Angelian out of the tent. "You four stay here," he told the ones holding the angry counsellor. "Make sure Lord Kelan recovers some of the dignity he never possessed."
"I hope you're not planning to overlook this," Tempesta said to him as they were walking back to his quarters.
"First of all I want to find out what really happened in there," he answered.
Of course, she wouldn't have expected it differently. They led themselves by the same set of rules. Only that, at times, he was more tolerant then she was. But he was slowly running out of patience himself.
The guards left Marzio alone in the familiar tent, posting themselves outside. He sat down and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. 'What did just happen?' he wondered. Why had the soldiers followed Ignis' orders without waiting for any confirmation from their Supreme Commander? She had clearly disagreed, but...
He was not allowed the time to figure it out. The see-through curtain that had been covering the entrance drew back, allowing the two Dreak in and soundlessly falling back into place after them.
Ignis was not wearing the red uniform Marzio had always seen him in before. In fact, he looked stunning in green velvet doublet and dark velvet breeches, a beautifully ornamented sword hanging at his side, proud and solemn as ever. His long hair was loose on his shoulders, a bit dishevelled by the mild wind outside. Like always, the Demon caught Marzio's eye. He looked even more majestic than he had before, if such a thing were possible.
The Superior Commander of Demonis was just as he had seen her before, only this time she seemed a lot angrier and did not bother to hide it.
Ignis moved past Marzio without a word or even a look, and seated himself in the sculptured chair behind the heavy ebony desk. Tempesta took a chair closer to the Angelian. Dangerously closer.
Then why did he feel he should fear Ignis more than he feared her?
"I think we deserve an explanation, General," the Demon general addressed him. Ignis was content to just lock his eyes on him, silently pleading for an answer.
There was something different about the young officer today. Something bothered him, and although it was barely noticeable, Marzio picked it up immediately. Ignis was weary of something. Or someone.
He took a deep breath. "I really must apologize for my actions, General Neri-Lokh. It was not proper to attack one of my own countrymen, given our current situation. Still, there is only so much one man can take. And I do not answer nicely when being constantly tormented by a lunatic."
A short laugh escaped Ignis' lips. But it was bitter, and left the Angelian longing for some of the mild humour he had got so used to while in Ignis' company.
"I know my deed demands retribution," he continued, "but please take into consideration the fact that I have warned you. I told Meris Alisi-Feit last night that..."
"We know exactly what you told him!" the woman cut him off.
Ignis propped his elbows on the table and leaned his chin on his joined fingers. He kept staring intensely at Marzio through slit eyes. "Tempesta," he said in a neutral voice, "would you be so kind as to bring Lord Kelan here? I would like to hear him too before we can pass any judgement on the matter."
She looked at him, then. She bit her lip, trying to refrain herself from saying whatever was on her mind. Afraid of what might happen if they were left alone, perhaps? Afraid for Ignis? Or, perhaps, afraid of him?
He smiled, the weariness Marzio had noticed before present in his words. "Don't you think I can handle this by myself?"
"I have no doubt about it..." she mouthed, standing up and leaving the tent. Marzio wondered how much of the relationship between the two was not known to him.
A heavy silence fell between them. They just kept looking at each other, and Ignis' stare was getting more and more unnerving by the moment. It was like he was trying to pull out every thought from Marzio's head with a pair of pincers. Finally, the Demon lowered his head. He began to toy absent-mindedly with the sleeve of his tunic. 'Not good,' Marzio thought, 'not good at all.'
The young man got up gracefully and circled the desk to stand in front of the Angelian. As he did so, he kept whispering, "Half an hour... a damned half an hour..."
Marzio felt like he was locked in a cage with a deadly predator when Ignis stopped not one foot in front of him, and eyed him furiously. He had never seen the Demon look at him in such a manner; now he understood what Kelan must have felt like before, in their camp on the banks of the Mauri River.
"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Ignis suddenly lashed out at him. "Did you really believe this would actually solve any of your damned problems?"
Marzio just stared in disbelief. Ignis had never been angry with him, let alone sworn in his presence. In fact, he had always admired the man's self-control. But, as he himself had said earlier, there was only so much one could take.
Ignis suddenly reached forward and grabbed the back of his neck. Marzio mentally prepared himself for the blow, which could not be prevented. He knew he would never harm the beautiful Demon.
But the expected strike never came. Instead, hot lips seized his in a fervent kiss that cut out his breath. He allowed it, not quite sure how to react. His body responded out of pure instinct, and he opened his mouth to the demanding pressure, Ignis' tongue slipping past his lips.
He suddenly remembered how much he had wanted to touch the fall of soft red hair, and he raised a handful of it to his cheek, enjoying the feeling. It was, indeed, like a fluid mass of silk, ticklish yet soft.
His mouth was now fastened on the Demon's, and for a moment all the world seemed to come to a halt.
As he was drawn deeper in that searing kiss, Ignis realized he had not felt such ardour while kissing someone in a long time. For the past five years, he had avoided taking pleasure in his own sex, content with what women had to offer him. But old habits died hard. And he had fooled himself by thinking what he felt for the Angelian General had been merely the instant attraction one usually felt when meeting one's equal. He had been so very wrong!
He sought Marzio's tongue, and was grateful when it found his own. They were both caught in a whirlpool of sensations, and Ignis allowed the Angelian's hand to tangle in his hair. He released the hold he had on the nape of Marzio's neck, and slowly trailed his hands down the general's strong shoulders, to caress the soft white feathers of his wings. It felt good to finally have him in his arms, to know he allowed these affections.
But he had to break the kiss, gasping for breath as he pulled back reluctantly. His lips lingered for one more instant on Marzio's before he backed off and leaned on the desk, feeling drowsy.
"Marzio, listen... There is something you must know about me..."
Marzio looked at him, green eyes shining with desire. Yet he did not move.
"I am..."
Just then, Tempesta entered, followed by the guards and the King of Angelia's chief advisor. This time, the six guards didn't leave the tent, but placed themselves around the two prisoners. Now, there was no way he could say it without messing everything up.
Tempesta seemed to notice something was wrong. There was a deep silence still hanging in the air. She gave him a suspicious glance, and spoke. "You desired to talk to Lord Kelan, I believe."
Ignis coughed, and went back to take his place in the mahogany chair. It had been his father's, along with the desk. "Your lordship, I expect a full explanation of what has happened this morning, upon our arrival in your currently assigned living facilities."
Oh, by Drako, he sounded like one of those boring civil servants that attended Court every now and then!
"I owe no explanation. Not to you, and not to anyone." Kelan seemed determined to have it his way and not give up his disdain. And once started, he was hard to stop. "Do you think this pathetic little worm" - and he clearly pointed at Marzio, who went red with anger but cleverly avoided another violent reaction - "can demand anything from me? He doesn't even know how to command a squad, let alone the whole Army!"
'Oh, but he does, and better than you can ever imagine, you idiot!' Ignis almost laughed in his face. Marzio had been right; staying in the same place with this man was pure murder. His earlier anger returned, stronger, and he didn't know if he would be able to control it this time.
"And you, with your superior manners and women warriors! All your people, a bunch of barbarians, with your stupid laws and pretence of greatness. Were I your Prince, I would be ashamed! Ashamed to lead such people, befriend a woman who knows more about war than she does about raising a family, or an insolent young man who obviously forgets his place in front of those higher in rank than he is."
Ignis saw Tempesta put her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to strike at any signal. He glanced at her, and she knew him well enough to understand he did not wish it. Not yet.
He gripped the chair's armrests, trying to get hold of himself. He could not find the strength to do it. Not anymore. He had controlled his emotions for far too long, and they were threatening to burst. He had to let them out.
And after hearing the old man's next tirade, he did.
If Marzio had thought Ignis had been furious before, he quickly understood how wrong he had been. As Kelan went on insulting his country and his prince, the young man made visible efforts to regain control of himself. He was failing miserably. He had gone from a faint blush to yellow and then stark white. He clenched his hands on the beautifully carved armrests of the chair he sat in, and Marzio thought he had heard them creaking under the pressure. In spite of the lithe figure, there was hidden strength in him.
Too much had happened that day, even for one so calm and tolerating like Ignis. His eyes were now glowing with anger and so much hate the Angelian had never seen in him. His breath was uneven, and as the Demon finally abandoned his control Marzio instinctually drew back a step. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tempesta trying to get behind the desk, but she didn't make it in time. The Dreak pushed back his chair, loudly hit the table with both palms and threw his body forward towards Kelan, the large desk the only obstacle keeping him from tearing the old man into pieces. He practically shouted into the man's face, the anger turning the otherwise tranquil and serene voice into something harsh and authoritative.
"You arrogant bastard! How dare you address yourself to the Prince of Demonis in such a manner?"
Kelan's face took on a deathly pallor; he looked at Ignis, dumbstruck. He was not the only one. Marzio thought he would die right then and there.
The Prince of Demonis. Ignis was the Prince of Demonis.
The one so elusive he had thought he would never actually meet him face to face. The one that had surprisingly thwarted all their plans. And also the one that had saved him from certain death.
The General felt betrayed. Why hadn't Ignis told him who he was? Did he really trust him that little?
'Would you trust someone that wanted to take your home away and kill you?' his conscience shouted.
No, he wouldn't. Not for one second. Yet, just five minutes ago, he thought Ignis did. The kiss had meant everything. All fears and worries had subsided in it. He had been reborn into a new and wondrous world. He had touched the skies for one second.
Now he felt like he was back in hell.
He started trembling slightly, and took a few quick breaths, trying to gain enough courage and look Ignis in the eyes.
The calmness was there once again. The anger that had crossed that - oh, so beautiful! - face was gone, and the eyes were clear pools of burgundy once again. The Demon seemed to have regained control of himself. Marzio watched his every move, and gave him a reproachful glance as their eyes met. It drew no emotion. Ignis - 'No, His Highness,' Marzio corrected himself instantaneously - sat down again, and gestured towards Kelan and Marzio.
"All right then. Split them up. Take General Zain-Reil to a different tent. His captain will join him there." He looked up at Tempesta, a trustful shadow behind his back, who had placed a delicate gloved hand on his shoulder in reassurance. He covered that hand with his own, and squeezed it a little.
She nodded. "I shall think of a suitable punishment, later. Take them away."
The guards grabbed him, one at each side. He went with them voluntarily, but stopped for a moment just before exiting, to look back. The flaming eyes were fixed on him, disturbingly fixed on him, and the prince slightly lowered his head. "Marzio," he whispered, loud enough for the Angelian to hear him.
To his shame, Kelan tried to break free. It was useless, of course, and it would only make things worse.
He was suddenly pushed from behind and found himself being taken in the direction opposite to the tent he had shared with the Lords. The thought that Ceni would be with him was reassuring, though. At least the prince had made that clear.
Marzio's newly assigned tent was closer to those of the Demonis General Staff. He was given a push inside, and left alone in the small tent. He calmed himself and looked around. To his surprise, he found his own captain staring back at him from one of the two chairs at the small table. His things were there too - minus armour and weapons, of course.
"What the...?" He blinked several times, not believing his eyes.
"They brought me here just after they took Kelan away," Ceni informed him on the spot. "Brought our things, too."
He nodded. Had this been the plan all along? Had the Prince decided it even before Marzio's fight with Kelan?
The Angelian general was still upset about being kept in the dark about Ignis' identity. Yet the signs had been there all along, subtle and seemingly unimportant things. The bows as he passed; the deep respect; the unquestioned submission to his orders. He had thought it was because he was Dreak, or maybe Tempesta's protégé. He had been utterly mistaken.
But his angered dissolved into something else when the Demon's words came back to him. Whispered words, that he had ignored when they had been spoken, lost in the aftermath of a battle none of them had wanted to win. "There is something you must know about me... I am..."
'Ignis Sagni-Dor, the Prince of Demonis,' Marzio added in his mind.
"General?" Ceni asked.
He looked up at the man, not even realizing until that very moment that he had sat down on the low pallet in one corner. "Hmm?"
"You seemed preoccupied. Will it be harsh?"
"What will be harsh?"
"Your punishment for trying to beat up Kelan this morning."
"I don't know," he whispered. "It will probably be nothing, really. Nothing compared to what just happened in Meris Ignis' tent."
The irony in his words caught the Second-in-Command's attention. The man was now waiting for him to continue.
"Kelan's lack of ability to keep his mouth shut may have doomed us all. Remember what I've asked you before the battle? If you thought Meris Ignis could be the Prince of Demonis?"
"Yes, of course."
"We were both wrong, Ceni. Wrong in assuming he wasn't."
He gained a little victory, that day. The look on Ceni's face was priceless.
It was over. All he had dared hope for was over. It would never happen...
Once again, he was pulled out of his musings by Tempesta's voice. "Ignis? Khest! Ignis, talk to me!"
He blinked, looking around to find himself in his tent. Tempesta was bending over him, worried. Yet she did not touch him, as she had done so many times before. She was afraid. All would be afraid, from now on.
"I'm fine," he mumbled. "Just fine."
She didn't believe him. "You are not. What happened? I've never seen you like this before."
"He ruined everything. Everything. That man..." his voice trembled with fury again. "That man... I won't have him in front of me again..."
She didn't quite understand his words. "Which one, Ignis? Which man?"
He was astonished. "Are you stupid?" he asked her. "Or are you just pretending to be?"
"Ignis, honestly..."
"Oh, or maybe you think I am the one who has lost his mind?" he continued. He wanted her gone. He wanted to be alone. He needed to think this over. "Get out. Get out of here now. And don't you dare touch the General, you hear me!"
"Ignis, I..."
He looked at her, beseechingly. "Give me some time to calm down. We'll talk in the morning. It will be all right, but I need to be alone. I'm ordering you to go."
She was shocked. Only once before had he given her orders in such unquestionable terms, and that time things had gotten really ugly. But she didn't dare disagree. She bowed and left the tent.
As she did, Ignis pulled out his sword and with a low growl he slashed at the curtain dividing the confining space in two different rooms. Again, and again, and again, until all there was left were hanging shreds.
Having calmed down a little, he thrust the weapon in a faraway corner and leaned forward on the small table supporting the washing basin, looking at his face in the small polished mirror placed nearby.
"What has happened to you?" he asked his reflection. "What did you just do?"
He thrust himself fully clothed on the soft cushions and buried his head in the heavy mass of silk.
When he woke up in the morning, he was once again in full control of himself. He slowly washed, and changed his clothes to some that bore no resemblance to any uniform he could think of. He ended up fully dressed in black, a rare event indeed.
His young attendant carefully avoided his gaze as he came in, as if not to offend him. He gave the boy the day off, and was rewarded with an awed glance and a quickly whispered 'thank you' as Kheerah fled the tent. He was sure the whole camp was by now familiar with his outburst.
He smiled. There was only one person who could help him now, one he had never thought he would ask.
Owen.
He left the tent and asked the guard positioned outside of Tempesta's whereabouts. "The General is in her tent, with Captain Alisi-Feit, Your Highness," the man reverently informed him. He looked scared to death, in spite of Ignis' obvious good spirits.
So Ignis made his way to the adjoining tent, knocking at the pole near the entrance. There was a little noise, as if he had interrupted something. He could imagine what that was, but preferred to pretend he knew nothing about it.
"Come in," Owen's voice finally answered, a little too quickly.
Ignis lifted the drape and went in, seeing the two whispering over the table that had been set for breakfast. They did not pay much attention to him, busy trying to look like they were eating.
"Is this a secret meeting, or do I get to be included in your scheming as well?" he cheerfully asked.
The two looked up at him, startled. They had clearly not expected him there.
"Oh, relax! It's not like you haven't seen me furious before. Owen, you did, remember?"
Tempesta looked back at the other man. "When?"
"The Monastery, seven years ago," the Captain of the Guards confirmed. "And I was the one he was angry with."
"And since you are still alive, I guess it was not as bad as it first seemed," Ignis laughed. "Really, there is no reason for you to run away from me. I'm the same as ever. I just needed an outlet, that's all."
"Kheerah told us you had a little fencing practice last night," Tempesta confessed.
"I did not order you out just because I wanted to, and you know it. Now, what was going on in here?"
"I was trying to reassure Tempesta you'll calm down again," Owen replied. It was obvious he told half the truth, but again Ignis ignored it. What they did in their spare time was alone their business. "She didn't seem convinced, though. What's with the clothing?"
"Nothing, actually. It just happened. And how are our prisoners faring today?"
"Ignis, it's barely seven. They aren't even up yet!" Owen replied. Then, somewhat guiltily, he added, "Well, one of them didn't sleep all night, but..."
"...but it's General Zain-Reil, and Tempesta said I wasn't supposed to know about it, right?"
Owen nodded. "You said you didn't want to see him," Tempesta retorted.
"Not this 'him'; the other one." Ignis sneered. "Now, I intend to pay a little visit to the General later today, and I want one of you to make sure he is all alone when I do this."
Chapter Seven
Meris Owen was officially still on leave, but he stopped by anyway and made sure Marzio and Ceni were comfortable with their new accommodations. Then he asked Ceni to join him for lunch. That left Marzio all alone, and he had nothing better to do than lunge back on the pallet and try to catch up on his sleep.
He had barely closed an eye, thinking and re-thinking about the whole situation. The first conclusion he came up with was that Ignis would have told him the truth, had they not been interrupted. Another one was that, now, the Demon would never look for him again.
That face... He had seen the man behind the mask. A face he was sure the prince hid very carefully, and the Angelian wondered if he showed it often. Probably not. The Demons had looked as terrified as he had been.
Someone came in. Lunch, he thought, hearing the sound of plates being arranged on the small table. He didn't bother to open his eyes, instead he imagined he was back home, and all this had been just another nightmare. His mother was there, looking beautiful in her long ivory garments, his sister and her husband, and his uncle with his long white hair. And there was someone else too, but he could not make out the person's face. Who was it? He wanted to take a better look, and...
"Would you care to join me, or would you rather stay there all day?"
He jumped up at the exact same words he had spoken nearly a week ago, and turned to see one very calm prince looking back at him, elegantly seated in one of the chairs.
'This is certainly unexpected,' Marzio decided.
"I was rather hoping you'd have lunch with me, seeing that my usual companions are either too busy or too frightened to do so. Oh well..." Ignis made to get up and leave, but the Angelian hurried to stop him.
"No, wait! Your Highness! Please! Stay!"
Before he knew it, he had Ignis' forearm in a tight grip. The Prince's eyes flashed, and Marzio instantly thought he had gone too far and offended him.
But the Demon actually laughed, and used his other hand to pry the officer's fingers from his arm. He sat down again. "I thought you and I had an agreement. You would call me by my first name and I would do the same. Does that still stand?"
"Yes, of course, Your Highn- I mean... Ignis."
He had to force the name past his lips to get it out. It felt like sacrilege. The Demons would indeed be very furious if they ever found out.
But the mild smile that lighted Ignis' face was worth his little effort. "Much better. Lunch, then?"
Marzio did not recognize anything on the platters. So he settled to stare as Ignis loaded his plate with something that looked like roast beef, though it certainly didn't smell like it, and some salad from a large bowl.
That did not go unnoticed. "I thought you might want to try something different for a change. Don't worry, it's all edible."
As Ignis kept smiling, Marzio reticently picked up some of the same meat and took a little piece to his mouth. 'Edible' was an understatement. It smelled strange, agreed. But it was also the most delicious steak he had ever eaten. "What is this?"
"Deer," the Demon replied. "There is plenty of game in this region, for those who know where to look for it."
A very expensive delicacy, in Angelia. Yet he remembered eating mountain deer at a banquet he had attended in Mnemon. Only it had tasted quite different.
"It is all in the way you prepare it," came the answer to his musings, though he did not remember voicing them. "Different ingredients give venison different tastes."
"My compliments to the chef," he managed in between bites.
Ignis chuckled. "That's why I never leave home without him!"
Marzio fully dug into the meal now, not caring what it was anymore. It all tasted very good, and was skilfully prepared. Nothing but the best for the Prince of Demonis.
"Did you enjoy the books I have sent you?" Ignis asked him some time during the second course.
"I never got to thank you for your kindness. They are very interesting. The History proved quite helpful in trying to understand some aspects of your culture."
"I do not believe our people are that different, Marzio. We were the same, long ago, remember?"
That earned Ignis a stare he would not easily forget. "There are many differences, and you know it damn well."
"Arguing with the Prince, are you?" Ignis teased, no authority in his words.
"Is that not why you came?" the Angelian shot back.
Ignis looked away, a faint blush colouring the pale cheeks. He shook his head a little, the loose strands partially hiding his face. A fleeting smile crossed his lips again.
So there was more to this visit than Marzio had initially suspected.
It was the general's turn to rise and circle the table, stopping a few feet away from the prince. Ignis refused to acknowledge his presence, or at least to meet his eyes.
"Why are you really here?" Marzio asked gently.
No answer, just the silence between them. Marzio suspected what was troubling the young prince, but he could not be certain. Nobody seemed to know what was really going on in that stunning head of his.
He caught sight of a delicate hand lying on the table. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched his fingers to the impossibly white flesh. Such paleness... It made his slightly tanned skin look much darker in comparison.
He remembered reading about this. There were some Demon children born with pale skin and red hair; the 'Chosen', they had been called. But in spite of the mentioning, nothing was really revealed about them. They were the 'Chosen of Drako', which the Demons considered their Supreme God, and were always treated with respect and admiration.
Had such 'different' children been born in Angelia, they would have been hunted down as witches.
Seeing that Ignis was not rejecting his touch, he carefully picked up the man's hand and cradled it in his own. He bent down to press his lips on one knuckle. Still nothing. He entwined his fingers with the Demon's, turning the slender hand around to study it more attentively. It was a warrior's hand, with the calluses one got from training with weapons. But the fingers were long, slender and perfectly manicured. He imagined them deftly running over the strings of a harp. Or maybe...
Ignis startled and suddenly turned to face him, wide-eyed. But surely, he could not read minds!
The previously inert hand now gripped his, with the strength Marzio had guessed in the man but had not yet experienced directly. It was like an iron grip, and he could not pull away. Pain crossed his body and he winced.
It only lasted for a brief moment. The Demon let go and extracted his hand from Marzio's, placing it securely in his lap.
They both sighed.
Now the prince faced Marzio again, a wicked smile on his lips. These mood changes were getting very unsettling.
"So then, Marzio... what about dessert?"
Dessert? Food? How had they ended up where they had begun?
The smile turned playful. "Well, there is fruit, and wine... or maybe you would prefer something different?"
'What are you up to, Your Highness?' There was a change in the man's gaze, visible only to those who knew what to look for. Mischief, yes. Other things too. Hope, interest. Desire?
Ignis stood to face him, and now the Angelian had to look up a little in order to maintain eye contact. He had the strange feeling of the prince towering over him, even though he was not that much taller, and considerably thinner than he was.
The slender hands reached out and cupped Marzio's face. The burgundy eyes were fixing him for any sign of emotion. Marzio didn't falter. If this was a test, what would happen if he failed it?
Ignis drew nearer, and he could feel the man's power radiating from his body. But this had nothing to do with physical strength. He remembered there were some Angelian courtiers who considered the Prince of Demonis reigned only in name. The young man before him was his own master, and master of all those around him. Underestimated, yes. But it was like underestimating a desert tiger.
Their bodies were nearly touching now, and the places on his cheeks where the hands still rested were burning. What next?
Petal lips touched his. Still testing him? But what was the correct answer?
Marzio suddenly realized the night in the tent had not been a dream. Just as the kiss the day before had not been one. But could the Angelian get over all that he had been taught? That the Demons were the enemy, that they would destroy everything one held for valuable? Could he abandon himself to his feelings, for once?
'Seleh, help me! Drako, he is your servant. What should I do?'
The silken lips brushing his led him to the answer. It was hard, and it was going to get even harder. But he wanted it, like nothing else he had ever wanted in the thirty years of his life.
He gave up. It suddenly did not matter anymore. If he failed the test he was subjected to, at least he would have a sweet reminder for the days to come.
He circled the Demon's waist with his right arm, and Ignis allowed him to achieve the contact. He wanted to tangle his free hand in the silky hair again, but did not feel like ruining the fine plait, so instead he caressed the soft feathers of the Demon's wings. He parted his lips invitingly, and waited.
He did not have to wait for long.
Things went slower this time, and they savoured each moment, taking in the other's taste. Short fleeting kisses alternated with long deep ones, as they were not pressured to end it any time soon.
The sound of a horn suddenly interrupted them.
"Gods!" the Demon exclaimed, pulling back and trying to untangle himself from Marzio's embrace. "We won't be getting anywhere if they keep interrupting us like this."
Marzio quickly recovered. "Maybe you should order them not to."
"And have them doing it on purpose?" Ignis straightened his clothes, and gave him an apologetic look. "This could be important."
Right then, Owen found it proper to enter the tent. He looked around suspiciously, but there was no sign left of what had just happened between the two.
"Ignis, the emissary you sent to Quiris has just returned, with a missive from the King of Angelia."
Marzio froze. Ignis' eyes shone with a brand new emotion. Anxiousness. "Council. My tent. Ten minutes." And Owen was off again. Then he turned to Marzio. "I hope your monarch was wise enough to accept our terms. I shall send someone to tell you the result."
Marzio nodded and watched the Prince of Demonis leave. Not one second after, Ceni came in. "What was that about?"
"They may be deciding our fate as we speak. Now sit down and tell me if you managed to get anything out of the captain."
"Nothing. Any luck with His Highness?"
"Not a thing. He somehow avoided all my questions and we ended up discussing other matters at hand."
His captain did not seem very comfortable with this topic. "I could guess what those were, but..."
"What?" Marzio asked him, stunned.
"Come now, Marzio. I am not blind. I have seen the way you've been looking at each other."
The general forced himself to laugh. "You are right. You will be better off not guessing anything."
An hour passed, and both Ceni and Marzio had begun to lose their patience. What was taking them so long? Ignis was not the type to linger too much over problems that could be easily solved. And they were talking about a yes or no answer.
Finally, Ceni broke the silence. "For everybody's sake, I hope His Majesty has accepted whatever they asked for."
Marzio laughed bitterly. "I would have given ten years of my life to see the expression on his face when he received Ignis' letter. It must have been priceless."
"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure Princess Selena will tell you all about it," the captain reassured him. "By the way, since when do you call the Prince of Demonis by name?"
Marzio glared at him. "I do not."
"Well, you just did. Of course, I'm not planning on telling anyone; but still, don't you think it's a little disrespectful?"
So it had slipped. The general was about to make one of his wry remarks when the curtain shifted, and General Neri-Lokh entered the tent. If the questioning looks she received disturbed her, she gave no sign of it. Instead, she looked at them seriously. "Good afternoon, my lords."
"To what do we owe the honour of your presence, your ladyship?" Marzio asked formally. They already knew the reason she was there.
"I believe you were expecting some news. His Highness insisted that I came personally... to break it to you gently."
Both general and captain took a deep breath, preparing themselves for the worst.
She smiled. "The good news is that the King of Angelia has agreed to our demands." They both sighed in relief, but she continued. "General Zain-Reil, the bad news is that you shall have to remain with us for a little longer."
Marzio's eyes widened. "All of us? But I thought you did not have the necessary resources to feed so many people!"
"We do, actually.... but you misunderstood my words. You will have to stay. And the four Lords as well. The rest are free to return to Angelia."
She was very direct in her approach, Marzio noted. He looked at her questioningly. "I fear I do not comprehend. If His Majesty agreed to sign the treaty..."
Tempesta cut him off swiftly. "That he did. But we have no guarantee that he will do so after your release. Therefore, His Highness Prince Sagni-Dor and his General Staff have considered it necessary to retain the most important prisoners until a negotiation party will be sent."
Things were starting to make some sense. "And how long will this be?" Marzio asked her. Spending the winter in Demonis had not initially been part of his plan. And with Kelan and his group too... it was going to be a long season!
She seemed to understand him perfectly. "We are reasonable persons, General. As soon as the delegation reaches Aquiline, you and your four countrymen are free to return to Angelia. And I'm sure that His Highness will do everything within his power to make your stay enjoyable."
Yes, Ignis would probably do that. But what would happen to his soldiers? Who will lead them back home? Who could organize everything?
He turned to Ceni and spoke solemnly, "Looks like you're going to have the command of an army."
The man stared back at him in disbelief. "But General, I cannot..."
"Since we are offered no other choice," Marzio said, looking sharply at Tempesta for lack of a better substitute, "you will have to do so. Thank you for bringing us the news, General Neri-Lokh."
She smiled again. "I was not finished. In order to celebrate this occasion, His Highness has ordered that a banquet be held tonight. You two are invited to join us - along with the Lords of the War Council, of course. They have already been informed of the situation, by the way."
Marzio nodded. They had probably not taken it very nicely. But he was not planning on making a scene. "We thank you for your kindness. Please inform His Highness Prince Sagni-Dor that we shall be honoured to attend."
What a big lie! All he wanted to do is keep as far away from it. Being present at the celebration of your defeat was not a very comforting situation. He could only hope Ignis' presence will make things somewhat easier for him.
Tempesta left them, and they were once again alone with their own thoughts. There were so many things to be decided upon, details concerning the Angelian troops and their return home, and above all the wretched banquet Marzio and Ceni had to participate to that very evening.
And a banquet it was. Outdoors, for the weather was nice. A great table had been set up for the Prince of Demonis and his guests, which meant Marzio would also have to face Lord Kelan that night.
He was not in a particularly good mood, considering that he would be stuck in this foreign land for only the Gods knew how long, and with the lords of the War Council no less. He would also have to part with Ceni, his loyal captain, and abandon what was left of the Angelian Army. He had no doubt they would all return home safely, under the guidance of his Second-in-Command.
But the thought of being blamed for their defeat by King and Court was not a very nice perspective. It would sadden his mother, and what would his uncle say?
"Cheer up, Marzio!" Ceni said, walking beside him, "I will make sure all goes well."
He sighed. "We both know that His Majesty will be furious, and who will get the blame for this defeat."
The captain swore under his breath. "Don't worry. I'll make sure everyone will know what really happened. They will believe me. Most of them, anyway."
'They' were the Court of Angelia. Ceni had many influential friends. But would that make a difference?
The officer slapped his shoulder. "Come on! The important thing is that you do not blame yourself. Besides, you get to stay here with... well, with him! It has a certain appeal, wouldn't you say?"
The thought of being in the presence of Prince Ignis filled Marzio's heart with a secret joy he had never experienced before. Still, he glared at his friend. "You take too much pleasure in embarrassing me on a regular basis. We have merely enjoyed each other's company several times, and that is all. There is nothing between us." His tone wouldn't have convinced a child.
"Yeah, right. Keep on fooling yourself, Marzio!" Ceni pulled him towards the U-shaped table, where Captain Alisi-Feit was waiting for them.
The Dreak wore a green velvet tunic that looked familiar to Marzio. He tried to remember where he had seen it before. He recalled Ignis' similar attire from the day before. It had to be some kind of uniform, though he had not seen it in battle or in any drawn representation.
"There you are! We were beginning to wonder where you ended up." He inspected them closely, nodding in approval. "Nice clothes."
Both Angelians were in high uniform, for an official banquet was not something to attend in every-day clothing. The only difference between them was that Ceni's tunic was a lighter shade of blue, and had less silver lining. The general had also donned his long purple cloak, a clear sign of his position in the Army.
Marzio had already noted the Demons' preference for longer tunics and loose shirts, in opposition to their shorter and tighter clothing. He tried to imagine how they must have looked like, dressed in blue amidst the yellows and reds that made up the Demons' attire. 'An easy target,' he thought, but recalled that no one would dare touch them, since they were officially invited. Besides, except for the four Angelian Lords, everyone was of military formation. That helped relieved his mind a little.
Owen guided them to the right side of the table, where Lord Angus already sat. The other three Lords were seated across of them, and the separating distance was quite welcomed. It seemed Ignis tried to avoid any source of open conflict. Whoever had distributed the places had been given precise orders. Marzio appreciated the consideration for his own choice of company.
The prince had not arrived yet, but it looked like everyone else had. Owen left them to take his place next to Tempesta, at the right of an empty seat that was reserved for the young prince. It was strategically placed on the middle side, yet slightly to the left, next to a very bulky commander whose body probably blocked any sight of Kelan. And with Tempesta at his right, the prince would also have clear view of Marzio and his party. The general blushed furiously, thinking of what had transpired between the two of them so far.
He was in a cheerful company, and the Demons did not seem to be bothered by having their enemies seated at the same table. This was probably also due to the wine carafes, which had been refilled twice by the time Ignis finally made his appearance, wearing the same green outfit Tempesta, Owen and five others did. Marzio came to the obvious conclusion that it was the uniform of the Dreak, and it was confirmed later on by the Demon seated next to him.
Everyone rose to greet the prince, even Kelan, who was smiling maliciously, though Marzio had no idea for what reason. Ignis did not even bother to look at the old man - surveying the Lords was apparently Tempesta's job. Marzio was not in the same situation, for the Demon smiled softly as he fixed his burgundy eyes on the Angelian general.
He motioned for all present to remain silent, and he addressed the congregation cordially.
"My friends, I am very happy to see you gathered here on this joyous occasion. Tonight is a night of celebration. The King of Angelia, our long-time enemy, has finally agreed to a peace treaty between our two lands."
Loud cheers erupted from the two dozen people. Ignis managed to keep a straight face on account of the foreigners present. Whatever his own opinions on the matter were, he kept them to himself.
"I would like to request a favour from you all," the prince continued.
All eyes fixed on him, for the sovereign making a request was not a frequent event. 'Whatever it is, it must be damn important,' Marzio thought.
Maintaining the mask the Angelian was slowly getting used to, Ignis opened his arms in a clear gesture towards the two groups of Angelians. "Here among us are six high-ranked men, who up to this point we have considered our prisoners. Five of them will remain with us until the Angelian delegation arrives for the negotiations. I would like you all to think of them as our friends and honoured guests, and treat them accordingly."
There was power behind the words, and hidden threat. Marzio was not the only one to notice it. Nobody would dare disobey the prince, even if the order was given in the form of an official request. The problem was, were the Demons pleased with this or not?
Another cheer answered, and Marzio sighed in relief. Then Ignis sat down, and the rest followed suite. All the conversations that had been interrupted by his arrival took off where they had remained, and the Demons did not bother to prevent any of the Angelians to take part in them. Only Kelan and his two companions were whispering among themselves, looking carefully behind their shoulders every now and then, up to something, as usual. 'Blasted courtiers!' Marzio decided to leave them be and engaged in conversation with Ceni, Angus and the two officers seated next to them, slightly aware of Ignis' gaze on him every now and then.
Chapter Eight
There was plenty of food and drink, and soft music, and all present seemed determined to enjoy themselves that night. Even Ignis, who was not very keen on banquets - or so Marzio had been told -, seemed to be having a good time, snickering at some joke or another, and smiling pleasantly to everyone. And, whenever his and Marzio's eyes would meet, the smile would turn into a dreaming stare. The Angelian was a little uneasy, but nobody seemed to notice their prince's interest on the handsome general. Or at least they pretended not to.
Besides, Marzio himself was studying the Demons with interest every time he could do so without being too obvious about it, and he had caught various details that had escaped him before. His discussions with his table companions had been of great use, too, and he begun to draw his own conclusions.
The Angelian High Commander found out that Ignis was truly loved and respected by his countrymen. No indecent things were being said about him, no sly remarks made. Of course, the dirty military humour did not steer clear of him and his deeds, but there was always a certain respect when his name came up in the conversation. No details of his personal life were revealed, either.
Marzio, Ceni and Lord Angus were instantly accepted by their company, and for all his misconceptions and old-fashioned beliefs the lord had proven to be quite a pleasant man. He was also open-minded, and he was gradually accepted by his all-military company. Lords Kelan, Gettik and Elssi were a different story. A few indolent and offending remarks from them, and the Demons began avoiding their company. It did not seem to bother the three.
"It looks like some things are not that different after all," he mused, catching the attention of the middle-aged major at his right. The man followed his gaze towards the group at the other side of the table, and smiled.
"Oh, we have quite a few of those ourselves, in Aquiline. Still, there are some whose presence we can tolerate." He was of course referring to the officers' general reticence towards civilians. "I think these three would fit nicely with Lord Lavian's entourage."
"Are you referring to the High Priest of Drako?"
"Who else?" The man made a disgusted sound. "He often gives dear Ignis a hard time, you know. No wonder he tries to stay away from Court as much as possible."
Marzio laughed, and took a sip of his wine, sympathizing with the prince. He was not bothered by the fatherly tone the man had used while referring to the young sovereign. It seemed it was common to all present, and never once had they made use of his title. The familiarity between the prince and his men was even greater than the one between Marzio and his subordinates.
Other aspects caught his attention as well. For example, that the six women present were not excluded from the conversation, which he had partly expected. Tempesta, Owen and Ignis had a good time at the main table, always finding something to laugh at - or, in Ignis' case, to smile at.
Sometime later, around midnight Marzio reckoned, the musicians that had entertained them began playing dancing songs, and the real party began. The Demons' music was cheery and beckoned for movement, and those present did not hesitate to show off their dancing talents. Tempesta proved to be an excellent dancer, and Marzio watched her moving on the wild rhythms, with Owen of all persons. The Captain was a bit shaky on his feet, probably because of the strong wine, but they made a nice pair. And there was something in the way they held each other that indicated they were a bit more than just good friends.
Glancing at Ignis for a confirmation of his suspicions, he received a slight nod. Then, the prince slowly placed a finger across his lips, a seemingly casual gesture that bound Marzio to silence. This was not a topic opened to discussion, then.
That dance being over, Ignis rose and asked Tempesta for the next. Again, all conversation miraculously ceased, as the two moved together on a slower tune. Marzio considered the Demon General a good dancer, but Ignis was by far the most astonishing one he had seen. The way he moved, holding one arm on the woman's hip and the other supporting her small palm, stirred a deep desire inside the Angelian. He could not manage to look away.
"There are some who say they will get married one day," Owen's voice came into his ear, startling him. He had been too captivated by Ignis' graceful movements to notice anything else around him.
Marzio turned to see the young captain grin, leaning over his chair. His eyes were a little blood-shot, and he smelled slightly of wine, yet he did not seem completely drunk. He leaned even closer, and his voice was low enough to allow no one else except Marzio to hear him. "Of course, things are not always as they seem. Am I right, Marzio?"
The general blinked, a little surprised. The captain had never called him by his name before, and making such a statement in the presence of a foreigner was definitely strange. He could not refrain from asking back, "And do you know something that nobody else does, Meris?"
The Dreak laughed, and seemed to lose his balance for a moment. He gripped at the chair for support. "Too much drink," he confessed, but did not answer Marzio's question. Instead, he asked another one of his own. "So, how are you feeling now, that you are our 'honoured guest'?"
Marzio frowned. "Call it what you will, I am still a prisoner."
"Of course you are. You know, he wanted to let you return to Angelia. But the rest thought you were too valuable a hostage. And there was no way to deny it."
The general looked back at Owen. "And why would he be against me being here?"
The man shrugged. "Beats me. Nobody knows what's going on in his head. He likes being mysterious and untouchable."
"Even to his lovers?"
It came out without thinking, and Marzio felt himself blushing violently, cursing himself and hoping the torchlight would hide the colour in his face.
Owen leaned even closer, and his breath passed across Marzio's skin as the Demon spoke in his ear. "Ignis has no lovers anymore. Oh, there is the occasional tryst every now and then, but always with different partners. Nothing that would involve him emotionally. Not since Rasya died."
Marzio blinked. 'No lovers? And who is this Rasya?'
"You haven't heard this from me, you understand?"
"Yes," he whispered back at the captain.
He felt Owen leave, but paid no attention, too surprised to care about anything, his eyes searching for Ignis. The dance had ended, and both he and Tempesta were back at their places. Burning eyes met Marzio's green ones, and Ignis looked at him biting his lips, a hurt look on his face. The prince rose quickly and left the table, not bothering to apologize for his abrupt departure.
Thanks to the wine-induced state, nobody noticed this. Nor did they seem to notice the Angelian general sneak away and follow Ignis to his tent, determined to find out what had drawn that reaction.
Ignis was relieved to finally return to the darkness of his tent, alone with his thoughts at last. His heart raced as the scene replayed continuously in front of his eyes. Owen, leaning over Marzio, whispering something in his ear, his face hidden by the general's wavy golden locks.
He leaned his arms on the heavy desk, trying to clear his mind. 'You are being stupid,' he berated himself. 'Why feel betrayed? The man means nothing to you!'
But he knew he was only fooling himself. 'Why not just admit to it? You are deeply attracted to him.' This was not mere infatuation, as he had thought at first. It was something different.
It was also the reason why he had wanted to let the general leave. He wanted him as far away as possible. Every time he looked at Marzio, his feelings would grow stronger. He was not willing to risk falling in love. He had tried to fight his desire.
Only fate had betrayed him, this time.
He breathed in deeply, and retired to the private section of the tent. If Marzio had toyed with him from the beginning, Ignis too held part of the fault. He had thought that the man felt the same as he did. But why should he? After all, they were enemies.
But there was no denying Ignis' feeling of betrayal. Especially not with Owen involved. Their long rivalry had said its word in all this, and the fact that the Captain of the Guard was deeply in love with Tempesta and would not risk hurting her like this did not make him feel any better.
A faint noise interrupted his train of thoughts. Someone else had entered the tent, treading carefully to mask his presence. Ignis' warrior senses flared into alertness. He gripped the pommel of his dagger and drew back in the shadows, ready to defend himself against an attacker. Silent footsteps approached, and the curtain drew back soundlessly, the dark form of a man slipping inside.
Ignis jumped him instantly, but his arm accidentally caught in the curtain and pulling it free made the intruder aware of his presence. He ended up on the floor, his wrists caught in iron grips. He was preparing to use one of his defensive moves, but the sight of blonde hair and green eyes glittering in the darkness stopped him. As much as he wanted to break General Zain-Reil's neck at the moment, it was not a very wise move. He settled for struggling and waiting for the man to lower his guard a little.
He drew in a sharp breath as the grip on his right wrist tightened, and let go of the dagger. The Angelian still pinned him down with his whole strength. "Were you planning to kill me, Your Highness?"
That did it. An innocent smile spread on Ignis' lips, and Marzio stared back at him hesitantly, loosening his hold just a little.
It was the chance the Demon needed. A well-placed kick, and soon their positions were reversed. The Dreak did not take any chances, and he made sure his opponent could not move an inch. The grin grew brighter. But Marzio smiled back at him, and it made him angry. He would not fall for his own trick.
He pressed the dagger he had picked up again against the soft skin of the Angelian's neck. "Maybe I should, and get this over with, your lordship."
Marzio flinched, but he kept smiling, ignoring the sharp weapon. "Did something upset you at the banquet? You left like a hurricane."
'Why is he asking? He was just playing with me. He doesn't care,' Ignis' mind rebelled.
Feeling his body begin to respond at Marzio's proximity, he let go and stood up, turning his back to the man. He put the blade back in its sheath, and folded his arms over his chest. He took a proud stance, and refused to give in to any weakness he might feel. "Like you would give a damn." A little reproach, but he hoped it had sounded cold enough to make his unexpected visitor leave.
But Marzio misinterpreted him. Rising, he came closer. "I apologize if I have upset you in any way. Whatever it was, I have done it unintentionally." His words sounded like they were actually true.
A light touch on his shoulder made Ignis turn around abruptly, brushing away the intruding hand. Eyes gleaming with fury, he refused to look back at the general. Being alone with him in a confined space did nothing to improve the situation. The attraction he felt grew stronger, and he fought hard to maintain control. He would not repeat past mistakes, and bleed again.
But whatever the prince felt, he was not alone. Two strong hands caught his upper arms and pulled him forward, and before he could make any move Marzio's lips were on his. He froze, eyes wide in shock, forgetting all anger and hurt and betrayal. His mouth opened of its own free will, and he let himself drown into the heat.
The general finally pulled back, smiling brilliantly. But his face fell as Ignis remained frozen into place, staring somewhere past him.
"Ignis?" He shook him gently, and the prince pulled away in a sudden movement.
"You have no right to be here!" he seethed, but he did not seem very sure of his words.
"I was worried. You were so willing to share your thoughts with me earlier. Why do you now refuse to tell me what is wrong?"
Ignis' control was slipping away once more. He grasped at it with all his force of will, not wanting to find himself in the same situation he had been in the day before. He did not want to hurt the Angelian. Or, better said, he would feel very guilty if he did.
He suddenly realized that he was afraid of what could happen between them.
Afraid. It sounded ridiculous, after all he had been through. Fear was not unknown to him, but this time it was different. He was afraid that Marzio would use him and then reject him.
But the general had always seemed an honest man. Why would that change now?
Ignis finally let go. "What do you want from me?" he asked, emotionally exhausted.
Marzio seemed confused. "I already told you. I want to know what is bothering you."
Supporting his head with one hand, Ignis sighed. "Nothing, really. I did not want to get in your way when you and Owen seemed to get along so well, that's all."
A short laugh erupted from Marzio's lips. "Really, this is silly. I never..." He stopped abruptly, realizing that the young man might be actually feeling something that looked like jealousy. Or betrayal.
He drew near the prince and caressed his hair. "Ignis, trust me, there is nothing between me and your friend." He watched the beautiful face rise to look at him, and placed his lips on Ignis' once more.
Contrasting emotions raced through Ignis' heart, but this time he did not reject Marzio. He pulled him closer, feeling his body heat up with passion and his pulse quicken.
Then, he remembered where they were. This place was not safe for such things. Guest or no guest, the Angelian was still officially under surveillance. If anyone noticed he was gone from the feast table, the whole camp would be in uproar. And finding him in the prince's tent involved in some private activities was not a bright prospect for either of them.
The decision was difficult, nevertheless it was made. Besides, Ignis really had to think this over before taking a clear decision about the course of things. He pushed the general away, a lot gentler then the first time. His eyes begged for understanding, and his voice trembled slightly. He picked his words carefully. "I am really sorry, but you can't stay here tonight. Things could get... out of control. I don't want to compromise your situation."
Marzio seemed to understand, his fingers stroked Ignis' cheek, and the Demon turned his face to place a kiss in the hollow of his palm, before taking it in his own and slowly removing it. He smiled shyly and placed a quick kiss on the general's lips.
Marzio turned around and left without further words, returning to the banquet with little desire to be there again. Thankfully, no one had noticed his absence. He apologized to the others, and retired in his tent, dimly aware that guards followed his every move.
'And he foresaw this, of course. He doesn't do anything without a reason.' Now Marzio understood what the prince had meant by 'compromising'.
The day of his countrymen's departure came all too quickly. And knowing they would all get safely to their homes, Marzio could not stop worrying about the whole situation. He envied those leaving, especially Ceni. He could not help feel happy that his trusted friend would be spared the humiliation of having failed the King's expectations. And even if deep within his heart he knew he bore no fault, his mind told him that he would be the one King Teh-Kai would hold responsible. He even wondered if this whole campaign had not been a cover set to discredit him in the eyes of the Court of Angelia.
But no; it was too cruel a concept to actually believe it. The lives of so many men wasted for just one's shame was a sacrifice his monarch could not make easily.
So he tried to focus on making sure everything went smoothly, that everybody had the necessary things one would need. Their road would lead south, and they would cross the river in the city-port of Tulse, where there lay no danger of drowning if one accidentally took a wrong step. They would be escorted by armed Demon troops, and all the confiscated weapons had left for Tulse at least a week before the actual convoy departed the camping site.
Ceni looked great in his new role, even if he insisted that he would never make a good High Commander, and that would always be Marzio's position no matter what he said. But the Angelian general knew that, for a young captain such as Ceni, this was a dream come true.
Of course Kelan had opposed to this decision, but surprisingly enough his friends had not backed him up, for once. Marzio knew he had Lord Angus' silent support, and hoped they had all understood where they stood, and how dearly they would pay for disobeying their captors' commands.
The only thing that brightened his mood a little was the fact that, wherever Ignis went, he would probably go too. And having the Prince's company was going to help him from going mad. Every day, he wondered if the young man would come visit again, or ask that he came to his tent.
But nothing happened. They met around camp on several occasions, but there was no way they could talk privately under the surveying sight of several dozen people. So all they could do was act civil and draw as little attention as possible. Marzio had had some difficulty with the part at first; Ignis none so ever - he was used to doing it all the time.
Then, one day before the Angelians would finally leave, when even the slightest detail had been dealt with and nothing could go wrong, Ignis suddenly vanished, and so did his Personal Guard. Tempesta had been left in charge of everything, and Marzio kept asking himself what had happened and why had Ignis not informed him in any way about what was going on.
The Angelians left, and three days went by before camp was finally broken and they departed for Aquiline. During this period, the general was witness to a strange phenomenon. One by one, the units that had been encamped in the large clearing left in various directions. All was done in a well-organized way, and nobody complained that they would not leave earlier, or that a certain unit had left sooner.
The Palace Guard and one cavalry squadron were the only ones to remain behind. On the third day, at dusk, the Angelians were informed to pack their things, for they would leave for Aquiline early the next morning. Which they did, and on a faster pace than anticipated, considering that the four civilians were not used to riding this fast. A carriage had been provided for them, and Tempesta had threatened them to stop complaining or else she would cut out their tongues on the spot. This particular threat had been addressed to Lord Kelan, of course, and managed to attain the desire effect - the man shut up instantly.
Tempesta had not even bothered to ask Marzio if he would prefer to ride with the four. Instead, she told him openly that he would better stay within her sight, which led to them riding side by side somewhere in front. He resolved that he would ask her a couple of questions as soon as they were comfortable with each other's presence.
The scenery was breathtaking, and the mountains bordering both sides of the road were more than the Angelian had ever hoped for. They would leave even the highest hills of Angelia to shame, and were covered by thick forests of evergreen. There was snow on top, and the sun reflected onto it in a million rays if he looked up. Waterfalls that roared down the rocks completed what was a picturesque landscape, and he wished he would have been a painter, so that he could preserve the sight in front of his eyes. The road they took was paved and well-kept, which meant that it was one of the main commerce roads in Demonis. There were villages scattered here and there, or lonely inns that would welcome any traveller. They stopped at these for their night's rest, and after five days of travel they were met by the sight of a city in the distance.
"Is that Aquiline?" he demanded the Demon general.
Tempesta had been extremely quiet during their journey, for no apparent reason he could think of. But Marzio did not think it was his fault; she did not look at him in anger or anything. And the rest of the soldiers had given him some information, admittedly reluctant at the contact at first, but then a little more friendly. He thought the men and women were even beginning to like him.
But this time, the woman laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, General! It is one of our main towns, Gheest. It does not hold a candle compared to the capital. You shall see!"
They avoided the town, though a few soldiers were sent to purchase provisions, and stopped at about two hours distance, in a village whose name Marzio did not remember. The locals were extremely friendly, just as he had come to expect. And the village, albeit small and probably of no great economic importance, looked extremely wealthy in comparison to its Angelian equivalent.
That evening, after supper, he remained in front of the fireplace in the inn's hall for longer than usual. He thought he was alone, and his thoughts began to wonder as a little cough drew his attention as a person sat next to him. It was General Neri-Lokh, looking exactly the same she had ever since he had met her, but yet different in a way he could not describe.
"You seemed deep in thought tonight, general. Does something bother you?"
Small talk. She knew very well it was so.
"Nothing much. I was wondering... how long until we reach the capital?"
A slight smile crossed her lips. Strangely, it was not ironical. "You miss him already?" she asked, looking Marzio in the eyes.
He was astounded. "I - I'm sorry, but I do not understand..."
"Ignis. Do you miss him already?" she repeated. Seeing the shocked expression on his face, she felt compelled to explain, "He told me the two of you had something going on. Now, would you please answer my question?"
Still feeling a little strange about what her words implied, he nodded. "I do... a little."
This time, Tempesta giggled. "A little more. I have studied you, you know. For all these days, I have studied you carefully, to see if..."
Her voice trailed off, and the room was silent for a moment. But she began again, without Marzio being forced to ask her what she had meant.
"I know Ignis likes you a great deal. And now I am certain the feeling is mutual. But keep in mind one thing, General. If you hurt him in any way, I will hunt you down and kill you without remorse, understood?"
The Angelian had a faint idea what this was all about. He nodded in agreement, and looked at the woman seriously. "Is it because of Rasya?"
She blanched. "Who told you that name?" she asked, not furiously but visibly disturbed.
It was bad, then. "Meris Alisi-Feit mentioned it once, I believe. But all he said is that she has been his lover. I did not imagine there was more to it than that."
She sighed, looking vulnerable for the first time they had met. "Then you don't know what happened between Ignis and her, right?"
He thought the worse. "No, I'm sorry. Did she... hurt him? Betray him?"
"No," Tempesta said, in a sad voice. Then she looked him straight in the eyes. "You must promise me you will never repeat the words I will tell you tonight. To anyone, and especially to Ignis. Understood?"
"I swear upon my honour," he said firmly.
"Very well," she began. "Rasya Talien-Kay was an officer in his Personal Guard when he returned to Aquiline, five years ago. She was an extraordinary woman, and I can certify to that. They became friends in a short time, and lovers a few months later. Everybody thought he would take her as his Consort... and he would have probably done so." She took a few sips of wine before continuing. "It was not meant to be, though. Three years ago, Ignis was the mark of an assassination attempt. Rasya jumped right in front of him, and took the arrow full in her chest. She died in his arms, almost instantly."
Marzio remained silent as the Demon general regained her composure. "The basic story, I know. The bodyguard takes the hit, and the Prince's life is saved. But it affected Ignis greatly."
"I can imagine that," Marzio whispered. "He is a very sensitive person."
He could feel her eyes digging into him as she studied him carefully. "I do not have his ability to read people the instant I meet them," she confessed. "But you do not strike me as the type that would hurt someone just to see him suffer. I hope I am right."
"You have had plenty of opportunities to judge that."
She smiled bitterly. "I probably have. I must warn you of a few things, though. First of all, be honest with him. He tends to be aggressive with people who lie to him in the face. And one way or another, he always finds out about it. There were a few highborn who fell in disgrace because of it."
Marzio was not at all surprised to find this out. He had not had an opportunity to lie to the prince so far, but even when he had been hiding something Ignis had made him say it. "It is as if he can read your mind," he told the woman, and she assented.
"Secondly, no politics in the bedroom. He promised this to the whole Court the day of his coronation, and he has proved true to his word ever since. He would not deny his bed partners one favour or another, but nothing that has to do with politics."
"Because his father was too easily influenced?" Marzio inquired. It seemed likely, considering that his own King was being manipulated this way without him realizing it.
Tempesta frowned. "You assume things too easily, General. But that is correct, and Ignis was aware of it ever since his mother died." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "And Lavian lost his position as the Prince's personal advisor for it, after Ignis became sovereign."
Well, that would at least explain the man's absence in the Demon battle camp.
"Is there a third point?" he asked the Demon officer.
"All things good in life are three," she said caustically. "If you force him into something he does not desire, I shall..."
"... hunt me down and kill me without remorse, I know. General, did anyone tell you worry too much? I mean, Ign- His Highness is an adult, you know."
She laughed and stood up to leave. "You're already calling each other by your first names? He moved fast this time, I see."
Marzio saw it fit not to mention it had actually been his idea.
"Anyway, if you do, then feel free to do so in my presence as well." She continued, "I know I'm overprotective... but he is like a little brother to me. And I am not the only one to care for him, so beware!" She started to go up the stairs, but turned around at the last moment, her face solemn. "I know you will eventually end up sleeping together - be careful whom you trust with that secret. And good luck!"
After she left, Marzio returned at staring into the fire. 'I knew he was loved by his subjects, but not this much,' he reasoned. 'Had Ignis not suggested she was Owen's lover, I would think she looked at him very differently from a brother!'
~ The End of Part One ~
~ Part Two - Dance of the Dragons ~
~ return to index ~