Vezemar crumbled to the ground just as Grokar lurched to his feet. “I did not agree to let you do that!”
“How exactly did you think this was going to go, Grokar?” Hegrir flicked me to clear away the huntguard’s blood. That blood now bound him to me, but he hardly noticed. “Did you think he would believe some quick excuse spun from your tongue? Do you think Jaetheiri will if she wakes from her drugged slumber?”
Grokar did not dare to turn and look at her. “You intend to kill a Heavenly Lord in her own sleep?”
“Why not? I intended to kill a prince in his sleep before you decided to wake him up. I’ll be slower with his whore, of course.” I felt a flicker of disconcerting excitement pass through Hegrir. He grinned. “I have a rare opportunity. I want to know if what they say about her body is true.”
I had no idea what that meant, but it instilled in Yethyr a horror such that not even Hell or Spryne could invoke.
Now he was struggling, vainly, of course, but he tried anyway. The Prince might as well have been a wriggling worm beneath the shadow of giant birds. No one paid him any mind.
Grokar had unsheathed his warfang, the horror I felt so clearly from Yethyr plain on his face. “Take a step toward her and I’ll kill you myself.”
“She will kill you. If you let her wake up.”
“I did all this to stop the butchering of my comrades. Kill the Prince, yes. He’s slaughtered so many of his own guards in his sleep, and I had neither the strength nor the freedom to avenge them.” He squeezed his warfang. “But here and now, I will not let another die, Lady Jaetheiri included.”
I felt Hegrir calculate his chances if Jaetheiri woke up to take vengeance on him. He concluded that he didn’t like his odds.
“You’re a fool,” he told Grokar, just before he swung me at him.
Grokar had been ready, and I was thrust into an intricate dance with his red warfang.
Jaetheiri dreamed on just beyond their duel, oblivious to the clashing of blades done in her defense.
Unlike Vezemar, Grokar was young, and his movement was as quick as Hegrir’s. I could make Hegrir faster. I could probably win the exchange for him. He had killed with me once already. My bond with him was strong enough that I could tweak his movement to perfection.
And yet, I hesitated.
I wanted to kill Jaetheiri, it was true, but I wanted to beat her. She was the only one who had ever beaten me. If Hegrir stabbed her as she slept, I would be robbed of our rematch.
But I needed to think of the bigger picture.
Yethyr was the only one in the camp mad enough to fight the treacherous Council of Songs. If he did not carry me to Deathsinger Zasha and the rest of those cowards, I was not convinced anyone else would.
I needed Yethyr alive.
But how to keep him alive? Both Grokar and Hegrir wanted him dead. Whoever won this duel for Jaetheiri’s life would then go and swing me at helpless Yethyr.
If Hegrir killed Grokar with me, right here, right now, then he would be bound to me further. I would have power over him, but probably not enough to stop him from killing Yethyr and doing…whatever he was planning to do to Jaetheiri.
Hegrir suddenly swung me suboptimally, and I grinded against Grokar’s warfang. Grokar went on the offensive, pushing us back. The huntguard could win this if I did not help Hegrir, but I didn’t really want that either.
If Grokar cut down Hegrir, he would pick me up. The curse of my allure would ensure that. He would kill Yethyr to avenge his fallen fellow huntguards, and then he would flee, running far away from the mountain and my vengeance. With such a weak bond binding him to me, there would be nothing I could do about it.
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Demons below, I didn’t want either of these Brinn cowards to live.
Hegrir was losing ground. He gritted his teeth, but kept quiet. They were both quiet; neither wanted to wake up the rest of the camp.
That was it!
I needed someone to stop whoever won. I needed to warn the rest of the sleeping camp somehow.
I tried to grasp Kettir’s mind again, but still I could not get a sense of him. I tried Nisari, but she slept too deeply to stir.
I tried thrall after thrall, but none of them had killed with me. My bond with anyone outside this tent was too weak.
I lamented that I had a voice that no one but the one wielding me could hear. And Yethyr, who listened helplessly on the floor, but there was no one else…oh.
Oh!
Wes would hear me, and he had a very vested interest in keeping Yethyr alive. Without a deathsinger maintaining him, he would go back to Hell and have to suffer the wrath of my father over his treason.
He would help if I called him.
I took on the voice of Hegrir, pretending to be a stray thought in his mind, and said as loudly and grandly as I could.
“I, Hegrir, will avenge my Tezem. I will kill Grokar and the Prince, and Jaetheiri too. I will kill the whole camp. I will kill any who stands in my way. Who could stop me? Anyone going to stop me? Would anyone stop me?!”
I repeated it in his head like a mad mantra. Yethyr could hear it. I could feel his horrified awe through our bond.
I just hoped Wes could hear it. I hoped he would get the hint. I didn’t think I was being subtle. In fact, I was worried Hegrir would get suspicious, but instead, he seemed to take my words as some sort of deranged motivational speech.
He got more eager and more vicious, and it was only on my third repeat of my message that he plunged me into Grokar.
I cut off my mantra with a groan. I had actually hoped to prolong the fight to give Wes more time. I would never have thought my…cheering would have hastened the end instead.
Red tendrils leapt from Grokar’s body as his memories of training and battles flooded me. And his griefs. I saw huntguard after huntguard dying to a loose Spryne-possessed Yethyr. At the sight of their gruesome bodies through his horrified eyes, it was no wonder that Grokar had wanted Yethyr to die.
He very well might still get his wish, even as he fell. Hegrir turned back to Yethyr. My bloody blade, as red as a warfang now, hovered dangerously in the dark tent.
Yethyr had gone still, glaring up at Hegrir with terrible, cold blue eyes.
“Trust me, my prince, this was a long time coming.” Hegrir stepped nearer, and quickly I planted in him a desire to be understood, a desire to explain.
“Yorir and I made a pact to kill you together, before this hunt even began,” he suddenly said. “Why not, I thought. You are a weak witch’s spawn unworthy of the Brinn name. Why should I give you a proper challenge. You didn’t even fight yourself when you wanted my Tezem’ spoils?”
Hegrir stood over the Prince now, but I urged him to keep talking. The longer I made him delay, the greater the chance there was of being interrupted.
“Those were my thoughts when we joined your volunteers. Yorir swung at you when you lined us all up, but when I put my hand on my hilt to follow, you decapitated him faster than I had ever seen a man move.” His voice grew hushed. “And I froze. I was more awed than afraid. And annoyed. Lies. All those whispers in the camp that I had taken as truth. All lies. You are not weak, my prince. Not weak at all. I watched you kill 2 hunting parties with some waterlogged rope. You could kill all of us, the whole Host of Heaven, at any time, can’t you?”
I urged him to look down at Yethyr, bound and gagged and teeming with rage, and wait for a response. Precious seconds ticked by.
Yethyr slowly nodded.
“And yet you hold back and let us squabble. You try to lead us as an ordinary man would. I respect it.” Hegrir snarled. “I am forced to respect it. And that is the most bitter thing of all, being forced to respect the man I seek vengeance upon.”
I grew uncomfortable. That was a little too relatable for my liking. I needed this speech I had instigated to end. Where was bloody Wes when I needed him?
And then at last it hit me.
“Don’t sneer at me,” Hegrir barked at Yethyr. “I kill you now, without formal challenge, because I respect you. I know I would not succeed any other way.” Hegrir raised me high. “Take comfort in that, I suppose, that I hail you as my better.”
Hegrir brought me down, and I despaired.
I had masqueraded my warning to Wes as Hegrir’s thoughts, and Hegrir thought in Brinn.
Wes couldn’t understand the language of the Brinn. He would have heard my message interwoven in a Brinn mind and not comprehended its meaning.
No one was going to come.
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Do you think Grokar's betrayal is justified?
