Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

F ionna didn't react to Lomar's words, but the warlord did. "There will be no burning."

"Obviously." Lomar rolled his eyes.

"I'd still like to remove the talisman just for a moment to see if the threads change." When coming across something new, before tackling it, it was best to observe.

At Lomar's hesitation, Kormac murmured, "Go ahead. I won't let you hurt her."

While not looking entirely relieved, Lomar lifted the chain and removed it. He clutched it for a moment before dropping it in Fionna's palm.

The change in the threads surrounding Lomar proved startling as they began slithering and sliding over his body. The man's expression turned rigid, and he spoke through a tense jaw. "It really doesn't like you."

"Good. That means it's scared of me."

"I fear nothing!" The sharp exhalation emerged in a different timbre than the one Lomar had been using. His eyes also turned a deep black that went well with the wicked twist of his lips. "As if a mere witch frightens me. You are nothing compared to your ancestors. A weak spark easily snuffed."

"So weak and yet you want to burn me," she quipped, antagonizing, yes, but for a reason. She watched the threads, seeing if she could spot a flaw in the weave.

"Because the only good witch is a dead one." The flat response came from the thing speaking through Lomar.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"As if I would give you a clue," cackled the spirit.

"That is a clue. You're worried I'll figure out who and what you are."

"Even if you do, you won't be able to stop me. The binding on me weakens. Soon, so very soon, I will walk this world again, and all will pay. Starting with Airiok's descendants." It eyed Kormac who appeared nonplussed.

"What a waste of a second chance," Fionna scoffed. "And a good way to get banished again. That is if the mighty warlord doesn't give you a permanent ending."

"No living man can kill me," it boasted.

She noticed the use of the word man. Misogynic intent, or intentional? Prophecies could be quite literal about certain things. "Are you in that cave in the mountains?"

"Oh yes. Will you come free me?" it taunted.

"How many can you possess at once?" she asked instead of replying.

"So many questions."

"Which you answered but for the last, meaning you have limits," Fionna surmised.

It hissed. "I am more powerful than you, witch. More powerful than the warlord. More powerful than any living thing."

"Says the spirit stuck using other people's bodies." Her turn to poke.

"This shell is but a tool."

"A tool that's been locked up. Seems to me you're not very lucky in that respect."

Lomar's body trembled as a low growl rolled from his lips. "Insolent. I shall enjoy hearing you scream as I flay the flesh from your body."

"Are you sure I'll be the one screaming?" she quipped, intrigued by how quickly the agitated threads churned. As they moved, shifting and undulating, she caught a peek of a tiny hole in the black mesh. Small, but still an opening.

"I think we've heard enough." Kormac stepped closer. "Put the medallion back on."

"Make me," taunted the thing in Lomar's body.

"If I must." Kormac went to pluck it from Fionna's hand when Lomar lunged, shoving into her hard. She hit the floor with the man on top of her, teeth bared, hands gripping her throat.

Only for a second, then Kormac had a hold and flung Lomar away. The man soared the short distance across the cell and slammed into a wall.

Before the entity could attack again, she weaved a binding around Lomar's limbs and stood. Fionna shook her head. "That wasn't nice. Poor Lomar is going to feel bad about that."

"Lomar can suck—" It's voice abruptly ceased as Kormac draped the medallion over Lomar's head. It flared bright for a moment before returning to its dull glow.

The man slumped, leaning on the wall, bent over and shaking, whispering, "I'm sorry. I couldn't control it."

"It's okay," she soothed. "That was very informative."

"It was?" Lomar sounded surprised whereas Kormac appeared confused.

"Oh yes. I've got ideas of where to start looking to rid you of this curse."

With that, she and Kormac left, the warlord waiting until they ascended to murmur, "So you can cure Lomar?"

"I don't know."

"But you said?—"

"What he needed to hear. The truth is, I've never seen the likes of what possesses him. I'll need to report to the witch queen."

"Will she know what to do?"

"Doubtful. As I said, this is new. However, we have an extensive library. I'll get the librarians digging."

"There is a library here, too, although I don't know how useful it will be."

"Does it have histories? And I don't mean anything recent. I get the impression this thing has been bound for a long time."

"Our records go back a few centuries to Airiok's time. Anything before that is fractured due to the clashes between the clans."

"I'll want to see everything you have."

"You think the answer is in a book?"

"I think what we're seeing is a threat resurfacing from your kingdom's past. I'm hoping to find a mention of it. Maybe even the method by which they defeated it in the first place."

"And if there isn't any information, what then?" he asked.

"Then pray for a miracle because that thing might be right when it says no man alive can kill it."

"Everything can die. Some are just harder to kill than others."

"I hope you're right," she murmured even as she didn't believe it.

As they reached the main level, they came upon a cluster of people standing in the main hall. The group ceased speaking and turned to eye Fionna and the warlord. A woman in a drab-colored gown, her hair white and bound atop her head, her gaze bright and sharp, perused Fionna.

The warlord groaned.

"What's wrong?" she muttered.

"It's my mother. Brace yourself."

"For what?"

"You'll see." He gave an ominous reply.

"There you are. I heard you had a guest. " The inflection in his mother's statement emerged cold and unwelcoming.

"Morning, Mother. I take it you came to meet Fionna, an envoy visiting from Acca." He actually used her current kingdom rather than another but stopped short of labelling her a witch.

"Why are you treating with those charlatans?" his mother huffed.

"A pleasure to meet you, too, ma'am." Fionna loved to counter rudeness with extreme politeness.

The woman sniffed. "I cannot say the same. What do those hags in the marshes want with my son?"

"Mother, perhaps we should adjourn somewhere more private to have this discussion." Firmly spoken and punctuated by the warlord grabbing his mother by the arm and leading her away.

As they left the main hall, a man stepped forward, an older version of the warlord. He cleared his throat. "My lady, I hope you'll forgive my wife. She was most perturbed to hear via gossip of your sojourn at the citadel and insisted we rush over."

"I cannot fathom why she'd be bothered. I am here on a diplomatic mission." A roundabout way of saying she performed a favor for the warlord, so not exactly a lie.

"Don't blame her, but the salacious rumor that has you labelled as something different."

"Let me guess, she thinks I'm here to steal her precious son." Fionna snorted. "Does everyone in this country assume a woman is a whore simply because she's not married and birthing babies?"

The man coughed. "Alas, yes. The roles of women in Srayth differ greatly from those in Acca or elsewhere."

Rather than continue on that vein, Fionna stated, "You're the warlord's father."

"Yes, I am Gurlok, and that was my wife, Silia. Kormac is our only son, so you'll have to forgive her protective nature."

"You used to be the warlord?"

"Yes, for just under three decades after I took on the role after my father."

"It's inherited?"

"No, however, it just so happens that in the challenges we use to decide who will rule, our family keeps winning."

"Strong bloodline." Then she blurted, "Who was Airiok?"

"Now there's a name not often heard these days," Gurlok said. "He was the first warlord to rule the combined territories. Our many times great ancestor. I'm surprised you know his name."

"You said he presided over the combined territories. Your country used to be divided?" Fionna pressed, interested in what Kormac had said about his history being fractured due to the clashes between the clans.

"Yes, into five areas."

"Let me guess, given this Airiok is known as the destroyer, he went to war to unite them."

"Not exactly. A great threat centuries ago had the five warlords joining forces. By the time they prevailed, most of the original rulers were dead. Given Airiok's courage and strength during the endeavor, and given the decimated population, it was decided to have only one warlord going forward."

"I find it hard to believe everyone agreed."

"Not many argued with Airiok the Destroyer. A reputation can be a powerful thing."

A wise statement. "I'm surprised you relinquished your position. Most rulers tend to hang on until death."

"There comes a time when a man, or woman for that matter," he added with a sly grin, "has to decide what's more important. For me, I'd served my country as well as I could but as I aged, realized it would be better served by someone younger, with fresh ideas and the strength to rule."

"Fresh ideas?" Fionna snorted. "Srayth appears stuck in the past given how it treats women."

"You've heard complaints?"

She frowned. "No, but I've only been here a day."

"Perhaps before passing judgement you should actually speak to those you claim to be arguing for."

A valid point. She slewed a gaze at him. "You're wiser than you look."

A comment that made him laugh. "And you are forthright with your opinions."

She shrugged. "Where I come from, we are expected to be honest, and as the witch queen's adjutant, I have to be even more honest than most."

"So not just a diplomat," Gurlok lightly stated.

"I am a witch, if that's what you're wondering. The whole subterfuge about my identity was your son's idea."

"Because of the ill perception the populace has of magic users," he murmured.

"Why do they hate them?" she asked.

"Ah, that's an interesting question. I don't know where the hatred originated, only that it's been around since before I was born. Also, keep in mind, those who usually claim to have magic have thus far proven to be false. Their magic nothing more than tricks to fleece people."

"A true witch doesn't ask recompense for her aid," Fionna pertly stated.

"That must make for empty coffers."

"There are more than enough people willing to engage our services to alleviate that strain, and most are generous when we can solve an issue whether it be food or service."

"I assume you are here because of Lomar."

"Yes."

"Can you help him?"

The man asked earnestly, and much as she enjoyed his company thus far, she didn't give false hope. "I don't know. When I arrived, I expected him to be afflicted with a malady of the mind or poisoned by something he'd ingested or come in contact with."

"But?" Gurlok prodded.

"It's more complex than that. It is magic," Fionna hastened to add. "But of a kind I don't recognize. It will require some study before I dare to unravel it and even then there are no guarantees."

"It will break my son's spirit if he must execute his closest friend since childhood. Already he faces pressure for having not acted given it's known Lomar killed some soldiers."

"It wasn't his fault."

"Says every murderer," the man riposted. "I fear even if you do cure Lomar of this ill, he will face an even greater challenge."

"You think he'll be ostracized?"

"At the very least, yes. Most likely he'll have to relocate outside of Srayth or at least in a place where no one knows what he did." The man eyed the door behind which Kormac had disappeared with his mother and sighed. "Shall we brave the tempest that is my wife?"

Fionna's lips pursed. "I'd rather not, and it occurs to me I forgot something. If you'll excuse me."

Before the old warlord could reply, she scurried off, headed back to the dungeon, following the soldier that passed carrying an inkwell and parchment.

She tapped him on the shoulder and plucked it from his grip saying brightly, "Thank you. I'll take these."

The guard's mouth opened and shut, but before he could reply she trotted down the stairs.

Escaping rather than deal with the warlord's parents? Most definitely. She'd rather face off against another fire salamander than with the warlord's mother.