Keir Read online

  A barrier seemed to fall between him and the chaos surrounding them, as if he now watched it from a distance. Beside him, Quin swung herself back onto the chestnut mare and kicked her into a canter as her dragon continued to threaten those unable to escape the square. In a flurry of hooves they rode from the plaza, dodging the frantic multitudes.

  * * * *

  Rialto knelt paralyzed for a moment, watching them ride away in stunned disbelief. Then he snarled, snatched up another crossbow and aimed wildly at the group. He fired, not caring who it hit and not seeing the dragon as it dived over him, turning his vision fiery crimson as it passed. Then they were gone, the dragon on their heels, leaving his city in shrieking disarray around him.

  * * * *

  They rode under the crimson glow of the dragon. Quin cantered ahead of him, her red hair flaring out like a banner, leading the way. As they reached the city gates, the dragon dissipated overhead and they picked up pace on the open road. Blood and anger pounded in his head like the hooves of his horse as they galloped from Adalucien. Injustice burned his gut.

  He had done nothing to deserve his father’s wrath or condemnation, nor that of his own people. He had inherited his blue skin just as much as his father’s blue eyes and black hair. Since Kisella was also gifted, Rialto himself must be to blame. Rialto was the cause.

  He shook himself. Would he let his father’s hatred continue to poison his life? To taint the future that might lie before him once he finally left Adalucien behind? Or could he follow Quin and Kisella in their quest to turn the Sentiac’s curse into a blessing?

  He had a choice now. Whatever lay in his blood, he had seen both sides of it. Rulk and his father on one side. Quin and Kisella on the other. It was up to him.

  The possibilities hammered through his brain, churned through his mind like the mud and leaves stirred up by his mount. What talents might he have aside from opening gateways? Would he be able to heal? To move things by thought alone? Kill?

  He shivered at the last. Even with a weapon in his hand and the desire in his heart, he had been unable to do so. That was no assurance he never would.

  Quin slowed her horse ahead. The open road had petered out to a muddy track that sucked at the horses’ hooves. The exultant grin she turned on him as he drew up eased some of the ache, some of the anger, and he found himself smiling back. She took such joy in life. He envied her that, and yet it gave him hope that the future could be as bright.

  He turned to his mother and that fleeting moment of hope shattered and drove its broken fragments through Keir’s heart. Serena arrived slumped in the saddle, the dark shaft of a crossbow bolt protruding from her back.

  “No. No!” He threw himself from his horse and ran to her, panic spearing through him. No, this could not have happened. This could not be true. “Gods, help me!”

  He wrapped his arms around, holding her tight against himself as he pulled her from the saddle. Her limp weight dropped him to his knees. Her head fell onto his shoulder, her body cold.

  Her voice came in a whisper, a dying sigh. “Keir...”

  “No.” He felt her shudder. Pain squeezed all the air from his chest. “Please, no.”

  Quin dropped to her knees in front of him and clutched his shoulder. “Keir.”

  Together they laid Serena back, and he held her clear of the ground. All the color had drained from her face. Her breaths came in faint, shallow gasps as if it was too much effort to take more. She stared up at him, sweat beading her brow from the pain consuming her. Keir tried to reach for her mind, tried to draw the threads of energy that had come so easily to make the gateway, that had strengthened Quin, but nothing came. He did not have Kisella’s ability to restore life, and he felt his mother’s presence diminishing even as he groped for something that would work, something that would stop this. He could not even find the way to take her pain as Quin had done for him.

  Despair clawed at his throat. “Quin, please…”

  She sat opposite him, holding Serena’s hand. Her expression was grave. “I’ll try,” she promised, understanding his request even though he could not voice the words.

  She closed her eyes, bent low over his mother and brushed her forehead, resting her hand there. After a moment, her body twitched and a deep frown etched her face. Serena gave a faint sigh, and the quaking in her body eased.

  Quin drew back, her gaze meeting Keir’s. “That’s all I can do, Keir. It doesn’t work that well on a non-telepath. I’m so sorry.”

  Tears blurred his eyes. “There must be more you can do. Please…”

  Quin shook her head.

  “Keir…” His mother struggled to speak, the life pulsing out of her body with each passing second, her skin clammy wherever it touched him.

  “Please stay with me. Do not die. Not now, just as I have found you again.” He begged with every fiber of faith in his being. He would give anything, even his life, to save hers. All those lost years he needed to make up for. He needed more time.

  Serena finally found the strength to utter the words she wanted so badly to say. “Go,” she whispered, her voice no more than a faint breeze of sound. “Be…safe…”

  He shook his head. “Stay…”

  A faint smile touched her lips. Her eyes flickered and closed, her head falling back as her last breath came as a sigh.

  The world stopped. He drew in a breath, then another. An eerie hum filled his ears. No, you cannot die… He pulled her tight against himself, as if he could hold her to life, but her body came limp and lifeless. “No…”

  Far away, someone was speaking. “I’m sorry, she’s gone.” The voice sounded tinny. The words made no sense.

  This could not be. He laid his cheek against his mother’s, the chill of it seeping into his skin, into his consciousness. No!

  Something built inside him. Something like a scream of rage and sorrow, and with it something stronger. A feeling of power, raw energy in silver strands and blue flame.

  His breathing quickened as the pressure built. Pain stung his skin. He began to shake as the turbulence inside him rose to a peak, threatening to burst free, to flame outward. He could not hold this. Thunder crashed in his head.

  “Keir?”

  He lifted his head, fire boiling in his veins.

  White-hot pain coursed through him in a blaze of fury and grief that consumed every fragment of his mind and soul. He could not put a name to the woman who knelt before him, could only see her as if from a distance, through a veil of mist. The world was silent, surreal, edged in blue flames that burned as fiercely as the fire that had sought to take his life only moments ago. It scoured his veins, seared his skin, demanding release.

  Allowing it to rage through him, he raised a hand.

  She will try to stop me, he thought, as his pulse beat in his head. I cannot permit that.

  Fire poured into his hand, white flickers between his fingers. He gestured as if brushing off a stray hair. Power jolted from his palm and struck the woman hard in the chest. The blow lifted her into the air and across the clearing. Her body hit a tree with a resounding thump. In a tumble of loose limbs and red hair, she dropped to the ground and lay still.

  Another woman stood by, eyes wide in shock, purple hair hanging across her face. She crouched as if braced for combat, fangs showing at the corners of her mouth in a warning snarl. As he lifted his hand again, blue–white fire twining around his wrist, she leaped out of range.

  Disappointment filled him, but now at least his way was clear. He laid his mother’s body on her side away from the bolt, and got to his feet. He walked to the horses and gathered the reins of one, preparing to remount. His movements were slow, but full of terrible purpose. In his mind hovered an image–a man with blue eyes colder than death, his endless hatred now mirrored by his son’s. In his heart, the desire for revenge beat a sullen tempo that drove him onward and overrode all else.

  He is the cause.

  He turned his horse, urged it on.

  He must p
ay.

  A voice shouted, “Taler, stop him!”

  A sudden weight struck him hard in the back and his horse squealed, its back legs buckling. Strong arms wrapped themselves around his body, pinning him. He summoned up another handful of fire, but a sharp pain tore into the side of his neck. He cried out as the power drained away, leaving him hollow. Lethargy flung heavy chains around his limbs and dragged him backward. Dragged him down. Fighting it, he tried to rouse his rage but darkness slunk through his veins. No! He would not surrender, would not give into this. The blue-eyed man waited. He had to go back.

  Keir tried to lift his arms. Tried to stand, intent on struggle. The darkness won.

  * * * *

  Alone in her bedroom, secure in curved walls of pale-orange marble and soft, colorful furnishings, T’rill gazed thoughtfully at her reflection. The circle of mirror was set in the wall’s face, edged with large pearls that gleamed softly. A single shelf beneath was littered with a profusion of colored pots and bottles, pieces of jewelry glittering in the light. In her hands she held a small device encased in glass–a gift from a friend.

  She stared down at it, playing with it as she struggled to reach a decision. R’hellek’s words on the beach had continued to plague her in many ways, not least by reminding her of how many years it had been since she last saw the woman who’d brought her to her throne. The forthcoming celebration of that day seemed an adequate excuse to summon her to the palace, though the device had been left for emergencies only.

  T’rill fretted that her wish for Quin’s presence was purely selfish, driven by R’hellek’s worrying suggestion of hidden threats to her family. If there was anyone she could trust, who she could be certain of without question, it was Quin. She knew the desire to see her again overrode all logic, couldn’t help but be aware that her behavior was inappropriate for a powerful monarch–more the whim of the child she had been when they first met. Irresolute, she pressed the glass plaque against her scaled forehead, the coolness of it soothing the start of a mild headache that seemed to have been drawn by her ponderings. The chiming call of her door signal snatched her from her tortured musings, a temporary reprieve from indecision.

  “Enter,” she commanded, laying the device aside.

  A dark-blue saurian male entered, dressed in elaborate robes of black and gold, as befitted a member of her inner court. He bowed to her, but with a smile on his face. “Your Highness.”

  “J’dahzi.” She smiled back. “I’m glad you’re here. You can help me decide.”

  “Have you no handmaidens to choose your dress today?” he teased, pretending to look around in mock surprise.

  T’rill laughed. “Not clothing,” she said. “I thought of asking Quin to come to us.”

  “Why would you think of her now?” he asked, blinking rapidly in a sign of consternation. “It’s been many years since her last visit.”

  “Exactly. I miss her.”

  “R’hellek has been asking many questions about her lately,” he said, trepidation marring the smoothness of his face. “Where her home is. When last she came. Who she travels with. He is showing far too much interest in a woman he has always made clear he dislikes.”

  “Interesting,” she mused. “It was a conversation with him regarding friends and allies that reminded me of her.”

  “Did he mention her then?”

  “No. Not by name. He seemed to be trying to frighten me.”

  “Your Highness, I would not presume to speak ill of our Minister of War, but it is always wise to doubt his motives.”

  “As I do,” she agreed. “This era of peace is as alien to him as a fish swimming in sand. He still sees enemies in the shadows. He makes me afraid.”

  “There is nothing for you to fear.” He laid a fatherly hand on her arm.

  “I fear for my children, J’dahzi. I would give anything for the promise of their safety.” T’rill could not keep a sudden overwhelming feeling of insecurity from her voice, adding an uncertain quiver to it. Would that underlying fear ever leave her?

  “Is this the reason you would have her come here? A sacrificial piece should there be trouble?”

  “No, J’dahzi,” she returned sharply, her tone adamant. “An ally in times of danger, as she has been before. I know I can trust her.”

  “You have asked for my help in your decision, Highness. Do not bring her here. Leave her safe wherever she is, away from R’hellek’s curiosity and scheming. Rely on your people, those who love and honor you, to protect you. Do not endanger her for the sake of your fears.”

  T’rill looked up at him, startled by his harsh pronouncement. “You believe the threat is against her, not me?”

  “I think it is possible.”

  “Then surely, we should send her a warning.”

  “Warning Quin of danger is an open invitation for her to come here seeking it.”

  She glanced at the device on her table, glittering with temptation. “I will think on your advice, J’dahzi,” she said quietly, hiding her inner turmoil.

  Brows furrowed, the courtier bowed and excused himself. As the door closed behind him, T’rill made her decision and raised the glass block with both hands. One swift blow against the table sent sharp fragments scattering across the surface. The device began to glow.

  * * * *

  Quin sat before Surei like a disobedient child, head bowed and hair tangled. The Senior Medical Officer held her fingers steepled under her chin. “He used telekinesis against you?”

  Quin nodded slowly.

  “And Taler had to bite him to stop him?”

  Quin gave another cursory nod, staring at her feet.

  “And he’s opened a gateway.”

  This time, Quin did not even trouble to move her head at the medic’s succinct statement of fact, sunk in her own dark thoughts.

  “Quin!”

  At the sound of her name she finally looked up, tired and sullen.

  Tilting her head, her amber eyes deeply troubled, Surei leaned toward her to emphasize her point, with her fingers spread on the polished surface of the desk. “He cannot stay here. He’s proved himself too dangerous.”

  “He hasn’t done anything I can’t do, Surei.”

  “But you don’t do it. That’s the point. You aren’t mentally unstable and half out of your mind with grief. You have had centuries to learn to control your talent. Hades, Quin, he used it against you! Doesn’t that frighten you?”

  “Of course it does! But it’s my fault he’s learned how to do it. And his mother had just been killed, Surei. It wasn’t as if there was no reason.”

  “And how many more excuses will you make for him when someone else gets injured? You have the ability to defend yourself, and you were still hurt!”

  Quin stared at the floor again, unable to argue Surei’s condemnation. In her mind, she relived the moment he had cast her aside with nothing more than a flick of his hand and a fragment of telekinesis, wielding unimaginable power without a thought. She shuddered in barely suppressed horror at the ease with which he had rendered her helpless.

  “He cannot stay here!”

  Unable to contain her distress any more, Quin leaped to her feet and stormed out of the office. She marched to his bedside, where Keir lay sedated and restrained at Surei’s instruction. Locked in an artificial sleep, he appeared more innocent than ever, but she could sense the underlying potential for destruction even now.

  Without thinking, her hand strayed to his hair, brushing a stray curl from his face. The only time she could touch him, freely, was when he was unconscious. Of everyone here she was probably the closest to him, yet he still could not tolerate much contact.

  Taler stood alongside, monitoring him and ensuring his continuing sleep. She gave Quin a sympathetic look and shrugged wordlessly. Quin copied the gesture and stared down at him, more angry and upset with herself than anyone else. Despised on his home-world and now unwelcome here, what more could she do for him? Surei’s conclusions were warranted. Though
it hurt to do so, in her heart she agreed with the medic.

  Keir’s behavior had frightened her, no matter the justification, and now all of them were at risk. His intention might not have been to hurt her–she’d simply been in his way–but he’d used his talent wildly and without restraint, even though his rage had only been focused on returning to the city and killing his father. She had seen that insane rage before, had learned the hard way not to excuse it.

  What troubled her most was Keir’s instant mastery of his dreadful powers, without the controls Quin had learned to impose on herself, making him as dangerous as a Sentiac itself. All his life they must have remained dormant within him, until her interference. She had failed him.

  She felt a presence beside her. Surei had followed her out. “Quin.”

  “I know,” she snapped, then regretted it. “I just don’t know what to do! If I take him somewhere else, he may find his way back. If there are people there, I put him or them at risk. All the options are bad ones. I can’t abandon him.”

  “Is there some way of preventing him from using these abilities?”

  “I don’t think I could do that, and it would only add to the stress he’s already under.” She hesitated as a thought occurred to her. “I could take him away for a while, though. Maybe he just needs some time to adapt.”

  “Quin, do you think perhaps you are allowing yourself to become too involved with him?”

  “What do you mean? It’s my fault he’s here. Surely that makes him my responsibility?”

  The medic touched her arm gingerly, trying to lighten the import of her words. “Do you think that perhaps, because you share a mental link and the Sentiac DNA that binds you together, you are too close?”

  Quin jerked back as if Surei had struck her, her skin burning at the implication. “You think I’ve fallen for him?” she snapped hotly. “What kind of idiot do you think I am?”