Stone Rose 9 & 10

[maderr]

Chapter Nine


“Awww! Not more rain! For the love of the gods!” Cortez fell into muttering curses, continuing on for several minutes. “I was just starting to dry out, too,” she finished, tone mournful. She sighed.

“Perhaps we will find shelter this time,” Culebra said, not managing to convince even himself.

Cortez snorted. “Ha! I do not know the Azul very well, but I know it well enough to know there’s no such thing as shelter outside of the villages and a few cabins we’re better steering well clear of. A pity, for a nice bed there is little I would not be willing to do.”

“Letting me go home?” Culebra asked.

“Sorely tempted, Highness, but no,” Cortez replied with a laugh.

Culebra laughed with her, unable to help himself. He had not felt this comfortable with someone – minus of course their few ‘business’ related conversations – since he had last spoken with Nankyokukai. Thinking of his lost, likely dead friend brought a pang of sadness and Culebra ruthlessly shoved the thoughts away before they could get the best of him.

All around them rain fell in a steady downpour. Luckily the trees caught the worst of it, but there were still far too much of the heavy, chilly drops beating down upon them. From time to time drops managed to fall just right, missing his cloak, jacket and shirt, to slide along his neck and down his back. Shivering, Culebra curled in on himself as much as possible, pressing back against Cortez in search of whatever warmth he could get. The steadying arm around his waist tightened, and he knew she was expressing sympathy.

“I would kill for a good fire and something hot to drink right now,” Cortez said with a sigh. “If Fidel does not bring us a bottle of something strong and warming, I will take it out of his flesh.”

Culebra laughed. “I am certain Fidel has sense enough to know not to come back empty handed.”

“You might be surprised,” Cortez murmured. “Scales and teeth!” She howled suddenly, and Culebra could tell by her squirming that rain had slid under her clothes too. As soaked as they were, it was much worse when the rain connected directly with skin. “We’re going to make ourselves sick if we stay out in this much longer.”

“Yes,” Culebra agreed, already beginning to feel the vague stuffiness that came with getting sick – something that usually only happened when he played overlong in the snow. Thank whomever watched over hapless reincarnated gods that it was not yet snowing – he loved the stuff, but only when he had a warm room to which he could retreat afterward.

They subsided into silence, enduring their mutual misery, traveling through the rain, eyes searching in vain for any sort of shelter. Minutes passed, and Culebra could feel his stuffiness begin to shift into a headache. Behind him, Cortez sneezed hard enough to jar them both. He listened to her mutter curses, and heaved a sigh of his own.

If not for the cold, he would probably doze off from the sheer monotony of the downpour. He truly would give anything right now for---

What was that?

Culebra frowned as the weird…prickling sensation passed through him again. A cold spike of…something lanced down his neck and spine. He looked up abruptly and stared around the dark, wet forest. Pointed to the right. “There,” he said softly, but urgently. “Go that way.”

“What?” Cortez asked, though she halted her horse. “Why?

“I don’t know,” Culebra said, unable to help the frustration that colored his voice. “We need to go that way, however. Please!”

Cortez turned her horse the way he pointed. “Lead the way, Highness. Anything is better than this rain. Could I ask what brought this on?”

“A…a weird feeling,” Culebra said, feeling stupid.

“I have heard of worse reasons, and those didn’t come from a god.” Cortez clicked softly to her horse, encouraging the mare through the dense forest. “Direct me, Highness.”

Quietly Culebra did so, hesitating only occasionally as he struggled to figure out where exactly they were supposed to be going. He waited, tense, when Cortez stopped with a sudden catching of her breath.

“Scales and teeth…” Cortez said softly, and Culebra was stunned by the sheer awe in her voice.

“What is it?” he asked, unable to bear both the tone of her voice and the strange sensation that made him feel as though he would soon burst into flame. “Cortez, what is it?”

Cortez suddenly slid off the horse, feet making a squishing sound in the wet grass. Then she reached up and helped him down, holding him about the shoulders until Culebra gently pushed away, assuring her of his balance. She kept a firm grip on his arm as she led them away from the horse. “Careful, Highness. I almost did not see it myself – right in front of us, about six paces or so, is a small pond. It’s so covered in moss and debris that I could barely tell it from the surrounding land. This way.”

“Now before us is…a temple. I have only ever heard of them in Piedre. I have been to the ones in Kundou that honor the Three Storms. In Pozhar they have the great cathedrals…but this…this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. To honor…I guess you, at some point.”

The awe was still there in her voice, and Cortez wished bitterly he could see the reason for it. “Describe it for me?” he asked quietly, feeling nothing but the rain, the cold, and the strange, tingling heat that seemed to be burning him slowly from within.

“It’s beautiful,” Cortez repeated. “Carved from…marble, I guess, though I’ve never seen marble like this. Perfectly gray, like…frozen smoke.” She snorted. “Hear me trying to sound elegant. Ha! There are carvings in it, of snakes, people…I think maybe they tell stories, but I don’t know them off hand. The steps are just rough enough to prevent slipping…the doorway is dark, completely open. I can’t see what’s inside from here. Shall we go in?”

Culebra smiled. “Would you rather stay out here in the rain?”

“Definitely not,” Cortez replied, and gripped his arm more firmly as she guided him toward the temple. “It seems as though it’s a part of the forest…carved into the side of the mountain. Never have I seen its like. Is this truly one of the lost temples of the Basilisk?”

“Yes,” Culebra said softly, the certainty of it thrumming through him, more potent than the strongest Verde wine. Not once, during all the ceremonies, had he felt an energy like this.

He gasped as his feet landed on solid stone, the strange, pulsing energy in him burning white-hot.

Cortez froze beside him. “Highness? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Culebra managed, and pulled out of her grasp, moving forward on his own.

Images poured like water through his mind, showing him things he knew he’d never seen – the temple, what it looked like, how it had once looked. Other things filled him – smells, tastes, textures, all of them with the feel of memory though he knew they couldn’t be.

“I have never heard of this place…but I guess it isn’t exactly where anyone could get to it.”

“Once, people came from miles around. The road was wide, lined with stone pillars to hold lanterns…” Culebra stopped and held his hands out, and they landed precisely where he knew they would – upon a set of double doors. The thick, heavy wood felt as though it were new. Something in him whispered that it always would – the magic that had made them would not be undone by something so simple as time. He traced his fingers over the intricate carvings; images of the gods – he could feel the scales of a dragon, twisting through a cloud. The feathers of the Firebird. The delicate wings of the Faerie Queen. The glass-like smoothness of the light of Licht.

Cortez came up beside him, her body heat warming, voice soothing, drawing Culebra away from things that would leave him trembling in fear if he allowed it. “They’re locked,” Cortez said, disappointment in her voice.

Culebra shook his head, and let his hands wander the detailed mural carved into the massive doors. He landed, finally, upon what he knew was a rosebush and…there.

A soft snick shattered the stillness of the outer chamber, and with a groaning, echoing sound the doors slowly moved inward.

Rather than dust, mildew, all those awful smells which should be assaulting them – Culebra could smell only roses. Dark, sweet red, brighter yellow, softer white. His lips curled, but he pressed onward.

“How did you…never mind.” He had the impression Cortez was shaking her head, and almost smiled, but he was rather disturbing himself.

Something brushed along his ankles, cool and smooth, and Culebra’s tension eased a bit to know his friends were close. He wandered further into the temple, trusting to the strange memories invading his head.

The room in which they now stood was long and wide. It was here people would have prayed, made offerings, gathered simply to talk. Travelers would have sought shelter here, along with the homeless. Further in the back, he somehow knew, were dozens of small rooms to house priests and whatever wanderers needed shelter. Offerings made by his people went toward providing the temple residents with what they required.

It was only a moment later Culebra realized what he’d thought – his people.

A shiver ran down his spine. He…he was just a blind prince, now. Not a god. Merely a piece of one.

“This place is amazing,” Cortez breathed from somewhere to his left.

“The Temple of Oblivar,” Culebra said quietly, crossing slowly to the far end of the room and stepping up onto the altar dais. He laid his hands down on the smooth marble alter, feeling cold stone and cool silk. Black silk, he surmised, for the coming cold weather. “There should be rooms in the back, where we can rest.”

“Rooms? Beds? Oh, the gods are merciful.” He heard Cortez’s boots ring on the stone floor, squishing occasionally where they were soaked with water. “This place looks as though it were built yesterday…”

Culebra let his fingers slide across the silk lying upon the altar, feeling that strange sense of having someone other than himself in his head. “The Temple of Oblivar is a temple of remembrance. It exists so that those who die will not be forgotten. Even when the temple itself passes from memory, it stands to remember all those whose names were brought here and offered in my name.”

“I see,” Cortez said. “You really are a god, aren’t you?”

“Nothing but a memory,” Culebra said softly, and let his fingers slide away from the silk. He stepped around the altar and to the little door beyond it, sensitive fingers immediately finding the tiny catch that opened it – no keys were necessary here, or in any of his temples. One need only be able to tell where to press, but that was harder than it at first seemed.

The scent of roses washed over them, stronger than ever, as they passed from the main sanctuary into the network of hallways and rooms behind it.

“This place is enormous,” Cortez said. “It must have taken decades to carve everything so deeply into the mountain. All these pictures, carved into the stone…that would take even longer.”

Culebra smiled. “Once, before the gods were lost, magic was common amongst all people. When the gods were lost, most of the magic left with them. Only the royal family of Kundou, the noble houses of Pozhar, and the Beasts of Verde retained any magic. These rooms, these walls…” He reached out and ran his hand along the deep, intricate carvings that covered the walls from ceiling to floor, tracing his fingertips lightly over an image of a great bonfire. “They were made by magic, as well as hard labor. It took years of work, but not as many as you might think.”

“It’s rather eerie, how you know all this.”

“Yes…” Culebra whispered, and let his hand fall away. He brushed past Cortez as he continued down the hall, stopping all the way at the end and pressing his fingers to the hidden button that opened it with a soft snick. The memories invading his mind told him this would be the best of the rooms, and as he stepped inside he could feel cool stone floor become warm, deep rug. “Is it possible to be two people at once?”

Cortez laughed, and it was a surprisingly sad sound. “Oh, yes. It is most definitely possible.”

“Why do you say that?” Culebra asked, moving further into the room, stripping out of his wet cloak. He dropped down to his knees on the floor as it turned to cold tile rather than rug, and reached out a hand to feel the grate of a fireplace. He heard and felt Cortez kneel beside him. His fingers brushed along wood still in the grate, and while part of him had expected it, another part of him reeled that even something like this remained untouched by time.

“I’ve got the stuff to light,” Cortez said.

Culebra moved back and let her light the fire, ruthlessly ignoring the voice that whispered nothing but a few words would have been necessary to light the fire. By the grace of my brother Zhar Ptitka. Once, he would not have needed even that.

He shivered and hugged himself.

“Get out of those wet things,” Cortez said. “There’s bound to be some dry clothes around here. Ah, there’s a wardrobe.” She laughed. “I wonder if there’s a penalty for impersonating a priest.”

Culebra smiled. “I think I have the right to say that you will not be punished.”

“I suppose so,” Cortez said, laughing harder.

Should it be so easy to laugh with someone who had kidnapped him? Who more than once had said that should Corinos interfere, he would be dealt with? In a few days Cortez would hand him over to the men who’d hired her and accept substantial payment. They would never see each other again. That thought should not upset him. He should not be able to laugh so easily with Cortez when people he’d known all his life could not draw even a smile from him.

Culebra stood and began to disrobe, shunting his thoughts aside for later. Always, it seemed, he had unhappy things to ponder. He shivered as his skin met air, and stood beside the crackling fire Cortez had made, letting it warm him. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the soft, wet strands, and wondered just how much of a mess he looked. His face was still smooth; for whatever reason, he’d never been troubled with facial hair.

He tried not to think about Corinos, how nice it would be to sink into a bath and listen to Corinos speak, hear him move restlessly about the room. He definitely would not think about how much he’d always wished he could ask Corinos to join him.

Though…with every passing day, his reasons for always rejecting Corinos became harder and harder to recall. Lately, all that played in his head was their argument and the one moment of weakness in the snow.

When he finally saw Corinos again, he was probably going to do something very stupid.

The weight of soft, heavy fabric dropping across his shoulders stirred Culebra from his thoughts, and he slowly pulled on what he realized was an old robe. Careful exploring, and a few fleeting memories, showed him where small, hidden hooks fastened it shut down the center. Ordinarily, he knew, there would be much more to the ensemble – but this was more than enough for now.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Highness,” Cortez said, and the laughter in her smoke and glass voice made Culebra nervous for some reason. “But I can see there is much to you this Corinos would find appealing.”

Culebra felt his cheeks heat as her implications sank in. He struggled for something to say, but could only stand and blush.

Cortez laughed again, but even in his embarrassment he could tell it was playful, kind. “I am only teasing you, Highness. It is rare I get to see such a pretty man.”

“What do you look like?” Culebra asked, suddenly curious, and desperate to get away from the subject of his own appearance. The last time he’d seen himself, he’d been an awkward thirteen year old boy with ugly pale skin and equally ugly gray hair and eyes. He’d hated looking like a foreigner in his own home.

The happy laughter faded. “Ah, I am nothing to look upon, Highness. My appearance is as attractive as my voice.”

“Like smoke and shattered glass,” Culebra said as he moved slowly toward her, reaching out a hand. His fingers landed on hair, and he tilted his head curiously. “Your hair…it’s short. It’s as short as mine. I’ve never known a woman to have hair like that.”

“Long hair isn’t practical in my line of work,” Cortez said. “My first real fight, I was only fourteen. Man at least twice that grabbed my hair, which was quite long and nearly slit my throat. I twisted so that he instead only succeeded in nearly taking my eye.” A rough, calloused hand took his own and pressed it to the too-smooth skin of an old scar. “I keep it short now.”

Culebra slowly explored the rest of her face, feeling so many scars they took his breath away. “How did you survive so much damage? Surely this sort of thing should kill a person.”

“You might be surprised how much pain a body can endure. People constantly underestimate their own abilities to cope with pain and injury. I’ve got even nastier ones beneath the clothes,” the laughter returned to her voice, “but I don’t think you want to be exploring those Highness, though I promise I wouldn’t take offense.”

“Stop that!” Culebra said, cheeks burning anew and he hastily withdrew. “My impression was that you were fond of Fidel.”

“I love Fidel dearly,” Cortez said. “I just like teasing you. I rarely keep company with anyone so easily flustered. The men I’m around can barely be civil most of the time.”

Culebra felt out a chair and slowly sat down, wishing there was food around but too tired to seek out where he knew it would be if there was any to be had. “Perhaps you should find different people to spend time with.”

“Highness, I look every inch the criminal I am. The only company I’m fit for is the sort that doesn’t have enough shame left to blush. Polite company would take one look at me and have me arrested.”

“You could just take me home,” Culebra said. “I’d give you a place…” He stopped, and then smiled slowly. “I bet after Corinos calmed down, he would be the first to suggest you become my second bodyguard…” His smile vanished, replaced by a grimace. “It is, however, a confining life. Presumptuous of me to assume anyone used to freedom would want it.”

A rough hand covered his own, and chapped lips pressed a kiss to his cheek. “No, Highness. I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Certainly it’s the best offer I’ve ever had. I wish it were possible, because with every passing day I wish we were not kidnapper and kidnapped. I thought perhaps it was only me.”

“No,” Culebra said. “It is not. Does that mean you will accept my offer?”

“I wish, Highness. Unfortunately, there are many reasons I cannot – for one, I do not think anyone else would let you.”

“Only I and Corinos have the right to say yea or nay. Even my brother cannot reject the choice we make.”

“All other problems aside, Highness – there is the matter of the deal I’ve struck. If my payment is coming from whom I suspect, they will not simply allow me to turn around and take you home. My life would be forfeit, which is fine, but they would hurt others as well. I do not know why, now, they have taken such actions – but they would not have taken them lightly. They will not hesitate to do what it takes to see their plans through.”

Culebra sighed. “Which Rose is after me?”

“I suspect the Black. The White Rose have been struggling for years. Very nearly did they reach full strength when the Black Rose ferreted out where their leaders were hiding and sent a team of assassins to kill them…” She heaved a long, heavy sigh. “I never understood it, not really. I am nearly forty and still I do not understand.”

“Nor I,” Culebra said. “One group thinks the god I am a piece of tried to destroy his children. The other feels the Basilisk saved them. Yet neither group seems terribly interested in me – merely in killing each other, as near as I can tell. They have not harmed the Basilisk Prince for several decades now.”

Cortez snorted. “I do not know about the White Rose, but I know very well the Black hope someday to take control of the country. Always, the White Rose and the government have managed to keep them in check. Perhaps now they feel they can make that final move…”

“Hmm…they clearly do not know my brother well,” Culebra said. “I wonder if the rumors of gods returning to the world is what has spurred them.” He curled his hand into the one still resting on his. “Are the rumors true? Some part of me says yes. Especially now that I am here in this temple…”

He felt Cortez shiver. “It is strange, Highness. Sometimes, you are nothing more than a quiet, melancholy young man. Other times, you seem very much a god.”

“I am nothing but a mortal,” Culebra said, feeling that strange mix of emotions, the sense that there was more than one person within him. “To assume than I am anything more is a mistake, and one that could cost lives.”

The hand on his withdrew, and Culebra tensed as it ruffled his damp hair. “Stop that!”

“There you are, nothing but a mortal. Boys get so mad when their hair is mussed – yet they constantly muss it themselves. I do not suppose, Highness, that you know where we might find food around here?”

Culebra nodded and stood up. “Back down the hall, to that first intersection after leaving the sanctuary. If we take a left, then kitchens are the sixth door on the right.”

“I will fetch it – if there is anything to fetch. Why don’t you hang up our wet things, Highness? I can see several hooks on the mantel for precisely that purpose. This is a fine room. The black and silver rug, I have never seen its equal. Nor have I ever seen such a bed. Priests had all this?”

“Priests, no. This room was not meant for priests, though their rooms are nearly as fine. This room…” He could picture it. The black marble fireplace, the black and silver rug, and all along the wall would be tapestries of the other gods. All the wood was dark, nearly black itself. The bedclothes were shades of gray, from dark to light. He had always preferred the simplest shades, rather than excessive color. Red and blue and yellow were too garish for a god who ruled the most solemn aspects of the world. “This room belonged to the Basilisk, when he visited. No priest ever entered here.”

Once, another god did.

The strange, whispering thought made him cold, made him afraid. Culebra shuddered and curled in on himself, wishing for everything to suddenly go away. Vanish. Stop. End. “None shall abuse my power,” he whispered softly.

“Are you all right?” Cortez asked, and then strong arms settled heavily on his shoulders, and Culebra shuddered in relief as the grip brought him out of the dark memories trying to drag him down.

“I’m fine,” Culebra said. “Just…bad memories, I think. There will be food in the kitchens. I will hang up our clothes.”

Slowly the hands slid from his shoulders. “All right,” Cortez said. “But no more looking as though you are going to…” She hesitated. “My mother looked like that once. The next day she killed herself.”

“It was just a bad memory,” Culebra assured her. “Nothing more.”

“I’ll be back shortly,” Cortez said.

Culebra nodded and slowly began to move around the room, retrieving their discarded wet clothes and hanging them from the small, sturdy hooks attached the mantelpiece.

I did it once, the voice inside him whispered. If I must, I will do it again. No one will abuse my power.



Chapter Ten


Fidel sneezed, so hard his entire body shook with the force of it.

“This rain will kill all of us,” Corinos said tiredly. “When this is over, I am never going outside again.”

“At least it is not cold enough to freeze,” Fidel said, though he didn’t sound particularly cheered by his own words. “Merciful gods, I am glad it is not snow.”

Corinos grunted in agreement. On one hand, snow would make it much, much easier to follow a trail – however he did not even want to think about how treacherous the mountain became in a snowfall. So far they were still in the lower portions, going backward and forth, weaving their way through the dense, black forest. Soon, though, they would have to abandon the horses and begin a far more difficult climb.

Hopefully, they would meet up with Culebra and this Cortez before that point was reached. His blood went cold at the thought of Culebra being made to climb up the mountain. Surely the people who wanted Culebra were not that stupid. Scales and teeth, he hoped not.

Fidel sneezed again, sending water cascading everywhere, then sneezed rapidly three more times.

Corinos could feel a cough of his own coming on. He would be lucky indeed if the abysmal weather did not render him too sick to function.

Desperately he tried to quash all thoughts of being sick. The last time he had succumbed to illness, his brother had gone alone with Culebra on one of his trips. Granito was dead now. He would never be able to separate the two. He could not, would not, get sick. Not now, when Culebra needed him.

Above them was nothing but clouds and a gray, hazy indication that somewhere above those clouds was the sun. It was cold, wet, and could not possibly get any more miserable. Why now, of all times, did the Storm Dragons of Kundou choose to dump such awful weather upon them?

He tried to think positively – as Fidel had said, it was not cold enough to freeze, and it was not snow. Somehow, the thoughts were not as comforting as they should be. Heaving a sigh, Corinos attempted to settle more comfortably in his saddle, but quickly gave it up. He was wet, cold, tired, worried. Even breathing seemed too cumbersome a task right now.

“That thing is truly terrifying,” Fidel said.

Corinos laughed. “She is not terrifying at all. Ruisenor is kinder than most people I know.”

“That is the sort of thing that stalks nightmares. People wake up screaming from nightmares which contain such things.”

“Ruisenor is just a large snake. She would never hurt anyone – unless they hurt Culebra. Otherwise, I suspect she is far more interested in nice, plump animals.”

Fidel did not look convinced, eyes locked warily on the long, dark shape that slithered alongside them like the shadow of an unseen animal. “I have never even heard of a snake like that. Where did you find her?”

Corinos shrugged. “She found his Highness, actually. We have no idea where she comes from, though we’ve looked in every conceivable place and asked everyone we’ve met who might know. We know only that she is not native to Piedre. She has never hurt anyone or anything; her only crime, according to his Highness, is stealing most of his covers by laying upon them at night. She also likes to hog the space in front of the fireplace.”

“I see,” Fidel said, and laughed briefly. “Still, I do not ever want to have a gigantic snake drop down on me like – well, no snake, really, but especially not a giant one. I cannot wait for Cortez to see, she will be fascinated.”

So easy, Corinos thought sadly. So easy to forget he was supposed to hate this man. He should be wanting to kill him. Fidel had helped kidnap Culebra, was the reason they were both rapidly making themselves sick by pushing on in the miserable weather. “Fascinated? I do not think I’ve ever met a woman who found snakes fascinating. Even my mother preferred not to be any closer to them than necessary.”

Fidel snorted. “Cortez doesn’t scare easy – scales and teeth, she went right into that sanctuary place to take his Highness. A giant nightmare of a snake? She’ll probably fall in love.” The slightest bit of pain slipped into his words as he said them, and Corinos was reminded of another reason they had so quickly seemed to strike a chord with each other.

“Assuming Ruisenor does not go after her for harming his Highness.”

“I don’t think so,” Fidel said. “I think Cor likes the prince. She’s been real nice to him, and they talk all the time.”

Corinos’s attention fell away from the rain and honed in on the faint note of jealousy in Fidel’s voice. “They…get along?”

“Yes,” Fidel said. “Like…almost like old friends. She has not laughed or smiled that much in a long time. I don’t think he usually does either, though I could not say for certain of course.”

“Prince Culebra has never been much for levity,” Corinos said quietly. “Usually only my brother could manage to lighten his mood. Who is this Cortez?”

Fidel shrugged. “As a general rule, we do not talk about ourselves much. I know that she is actually only half-Piedren. Her father, she once told me, was a sailor from Piedre who met her mother while he was in port in Kundou. When he never came back for her, as promised, Cortez’s mother journeyed here to find him. Cortez said they never did. When she was young, her mother started to go blind. When Cortez was about…sixteen? Seventeen? Her mother killed herself. Since about fourteen, she has been involved in mercenary work of some sort.” He chuckled briefly. “She has a temper and a nasty right hook. If there is a weapon created that she cannot use, it is only because she’s not yet had fifteen minutes to learn it. Her temper has left her with several marks. Most would call her ugly.”

“You do not think so?”

“I think she is beautiful.”

“Most would say I should be leery of a man whose glance is enough to kill,” Corinos replied.

Fidel snorted. “Cortez has never punched you. Trust me, my friend, the deadly eyesight is much more sane.”

Laughter escaped before Corinos could stop it. Why? Why did it feel as though they had known each other for years and years? Why did it seem so natural, the way Fidel said ‘my friend’? Corinos wished desperately that he was home, with Culebra, and that none of this had ever happened.

“Look there,” Fidel said, breaking into his thoughts.

Corinos looked up, following his pointing hand, and saw the clearing not too far ahead. He frowned, as what was in the clearing registered.

Bodies. Several of them. Scattered about, showing every sign of having lost a very nasty fight. From the look of them, they’d been dead less than a day. He dismounted and drew his sword as they reached the camp. Five men, two women, all of them brutally killed – and it looked as though someone had examined each body after the fight and made certain they were all dead.

“What happened here?” Fidel asked. “I mean, why? So far out here?” He knelt down beside a man whose gut had taken a sword, his throat probably slit shortly after. “They have the look of experience to them. Killing them, especially in this thick forest, could have been no easy feat.”

Corinos grunted in agreement and kept his sword ready as he knelt beside another corpse – another man, a nasty gash through his back telling how he had died. Whoever had killed these people had done so with…relish. Almost as if it were personal. Corinos frowned and began to examine the body, turning it over to see if the front would reveal more than the back.

Revelation hit him hard, immediately, and he tore away what remained of the corpse’s blood-soaked shirt and leathers to get a full view of what he’d glimpsed.

Yes. Inked into his abdomen was a rose in full bloom – and black as pitch. “They were Black Roses.”

“What?” Fidel looked up at him, surprised, then tore away the clothes of the corpse he knelt before, hissing as he found a telltale tattoo on the man’s thigh. He immediately stood and moved to another corpse, going to each and every one until he found tattoos on each. “I do not believe it. They are all of the Black Rose…who would be killing them so brutally?”

Corinos shook his head. “I do not know. This is not the style of the White Rose…though if anyone had cause to kill them in such a fashion, it would certainly be their rival Brotherhood.”

“No…the Brotherhood of the White Rose does not use such methods.” Fidel’s face clouded, and Corinos narrowed his eyes at the way Fidel’s fingers strayed briefly to his right thigh. “The White Rose firmly believe that the Basilisk died to save Piedre. He was a god who ensured death and destruction did not consume the world. Mindless violence, pointless destruction…these things the Basilisk hated above all else. The Brotherhood of the White Rose firmly believes in peace, and would not kill or otherwise harm unless there was no other way to resolve a problem.” His face twisted with bitterness and anger. “Even murder, the loss of something precious, is not cause enough to reciprocate in kind.”

Standing, Corinos stalked over to Fidel and grabbed him by the arm, his other hand digging into Fidel’s thigh. “Who are you?”

“Only Fidel, nothing more,” Fidel said, glaring, struggling. “My parents were head of the Brotherhood of the White Rose, and the Black Rose murdered them. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Corinos let him go. “They did not kill you as well?”

“They didn’t see me, except for one, and I do not know why he stayed silent.”

“So you are a White Rose?”

Fidel shook his head. “No. It is true I still bear the mark, but my parents forced it upon me. I want no part of the Brotherhoods. They are poisonous, unnecessary. It was their zealotry that got my parents killed. I want revenge, because I loved them, but I do not want to go back into that world.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Mercy of the gods, I only ever wanted the simple life of a clerk.”

“You are a remarkably good mercenary for someone who wanted only to be a bookkeeper.”

“We do what we must. My parents did not deserve to die. The White Rose is foolish, but it is not violent. There was no reason to kill them.”

Corinos grunted. “There was no reason you could see. The Black Rose probably thought they had plenty of reason. Zealots are, after all, zealots.”

Fidel shifted impatiently and moved away. “As you say. Still, they were my parents. I did not agree with them, but I loved them. My entire world was ruined that night.”

“So you zealously hunt down their killers?” Corinos asked softly, sheathing his sword.

Fidel’s eyes snapped to his, and Corinos stared implacably back. “You know nothing about it.”

“Nothing about wanting revenge? You think I do not know?” Corinos replied. “The man I love came home in pieces, all but broken because he could only listen as mermaids attacked the ship he was on. The man I love had to tell me that he heard as my brother died, killed by creatures that probably ate him. I know all about wanting to kill, Fidel, but I cannot fight an ocean. Wasting energy on it would have helped no one, least of all my prince. I let it go.”

Fidel said nothing, merely turned away and began to explore the camp for clues as to the attackers.

Corinos sighed and set to work doing the same, but an hour later they had several corpses neatly laid out and no clues as to who had killed them or why – though the fact they were all Black Rose seemed enough to answer that question, at least in part.

If there was one thing Piedre knew better than anyone, it was death. Always they had followed the Basilisk, and even now when he was all but gone, the prayers and ceremonies used while he lived were still employed.

Kneeling, Corinos clasped his hands together and began one of at least a dozen prayers that would suit this situation – not a group of zealots murdered in a forest by rogues unknown…but men killed far from home, where no one would ever know. Beside him, Fidel joined in the prayer, and as one finished they blended it into another, eventually into a third, fourth, and finally fifth, in a manner that never failed to impress anyone who saw a Piedren give funeral rites. Precious few ceremonies were as intricate – ostentatious – as Isabella’s had been.

“We need to move on,” Corinos said when the prayers concluded. He swiped wet strands of hair from his face and stood, brushing futilely at the mud now caking the top of his high boots. He pulled his sodden wool cloak more tightly around him and mounted his horse. “How far are we from the meeting point?”

“Two days. Less if we hurry,” Fidel said, mounting his own and turning them away from the grisly row of corpses. “The way only gets more treacherous, however, so we dare not go too fast.”

Corinos nodded. “Out of curiosity, how was anyone planning to take Culebra up the mountain? I assume that is the ultimate goal, though I have no idea why.”

Fidel shrugged. “I do not know the reasons they wanted his Highness, only that they are paying us enough gold we could retire, as Cortez says, in the heart of Kundou and never work again.”

“That’s a lot of gold,” Corinos said quietly, warnings going off in his head. The capital of Kundou was the most expensive city in the world. Kundou was an island nation, and relied heavily on its import and export business to prosper. Whatever the heart desired, it was said, could be found in the ports of Kundou. If this Cortez he was growing curious to meet was making noises, even in jest, about retiring there…

Who had that kind of money? To pay off two mercs for a simple kidnapping job? His mind reeled, to think of what a group with such funding could do. It made him cold with fear.

“Disturbing thought, isn’t it?” Fidel said grimly, and by his expression Corinos knew Fidel had made the same realizations. “I never liked it, Cortez knew I wouldn’t – but the whole thing to me screams of Black Rose. It may be my last chance…”

Corinos glared at him. “You are putting an innocent – his royal Highness – in danger because you cannot learn to let go of what happened to your parents? I should beat you.”

“Go ahead,” Fidel said bitterly. “It is not as though we are true friends, is it?” He turned his head away, staring straight ahead.

Unhappiness settled like a dead weight in Corinos’s gut, and a sour silence settled over the both of them. It shouldn’t bother him. After he retrieved Culebra, they would go home and never see the pair of mercs again. Everything would return to normal, hopefully with the exception that it would be him rather than Ruisenor in Culebra’s bed.

That reminded him that he had not seen her for a while – not once while they were examining the corpses. Corinos looked around, grateful for the distraction from his tangled thoughts about Fidel, and saw no sign of her. “Have you seen Ruisenor?”

“No,” Fidel said, not looking at Corinos. “But you’ve said before that she comes and goes as she pleases.”

Corinos nodded. “Yes. Perhaps I am just on edge from the campsite.”

“That could very well be, my—“ Fidel cut himself off so hard Corinos could hear his teeth click together. Fidel’s face was the very image of gloomy, and Corinos knew his was the same. “There is no good reason we should be thinking of each other as friends.”

“No, there is not,” Corinos said slowly. “We should not be getting along at all.”

“Yet we keep trying.”

Corinos sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. His entire body ached with exhaustion, tension, and a thousand worries that would not be resolved soon enough for his liking. What would Granito do in such a situation? He sighed again as the answer came to him – and he’d known it all along, but Granito was the one who always said only Culebra was more stubborn. “I say we quit trying.”

Fidel slumped slightly in his saddle, and Corinos could see that dejection mingled with the anger in his expression.

“It only makes things worse,” Corinos continued. “Better to just be friends, and help each other, until circumstances force us to be otherwise.” He smiled at the stunned – happy – look Fidel shot him.

Then Fidel grinned, and looked years younger, and Corinos was struck again by how both mercenary and completely not the man could look. “As you say, my friend – is there not a saying like that, somewhere in all the old teachings?”

“I think there are several such sayings,” Corinos replied. “Right now, however, I do not feel like recalling them. I am far more interested in being warm, dry, and fed.”

Fidel laughed. “Yes, all of those sound far finer than even the gold I would have liked to get from our employers.”

“Would have liked to get?” Corinos asked.

Fidel rolled his eyes. “Obviously, my friend, if you are taking him back then we will not be getting our money. Reneging on our deal, we will be lucky to escape the country with our skin intact.”

Corinos frowned, annoyed with himself for not realizing this – but then, at one point in time, he had fully intended to kill Culebra’s kidnappers himself. Then he’d told Fidel he would let them be so long as he could take Culebra back.

Now…now everything was different. For better or worse, he had just declared Fidel his friend. Assuming Cortez did not do something regrettable, there was no reason for their animosity to resume…strange everything had seemed so complicated a moment ago, and now it all seemed so simple. Except for the part where Fidel’s life was now in danger. “I will help you.”

“There is no reason for you to do that, my friend. I seem to recall we are only here, making ourselves sick in this cursed rain, because Cortez and I relieved you of your prince.”

Corinos nodded. “It takes the wind but a moment to shift.”

“I wish the wind would shift the rain away from us,” Fidel said, making them both laugh.

The laughter died as Ruisenor appeared in front of them, and Corinos could tell she was agitated by something. “Something is wrong. She’s upset.”

Fidel’s brows went up. “I do not like to think about what could upset a gigantic nightmare snake.”

“Neither do I,” Corinos agreed, urging his horse forward all the same as Ruisenor turned and led them off the rough path they’d been following. As he followed, he began to notice things he did not like.

Signs of people racing haphazardly through the forest – there was too much rain and mist for the path they’d been on to show the signs, but off in the thicker parts of the forest, some signs were still there. Broken branches, marks in the mud where the rain wasn’t quite able to penetrate the dense canopy above…he reached out and snagged a bit of fabric that looked as though it had been torn from a cloak while its owner fled.

For he sensed that was what had occurred – he could not tell how many, but safe to say at least two people had been racing through the forest. One being chased, the other the chaser. Only desperation would drive either to run so recklessly through the trees, when one wrong turn could knock them off their horses, and either the hit or the fall could kill.

He pulled up short as they came to a place where the trees thinned slightly – and where two bodies lay across the forest floor. Corinos dismounted and strode to the nearest, an older woman whose throat had been slashed open. Her face was twisted in a grimace of fear and pain. Frowning deeply, more confused than ever, he searched her body and quickly found the black rose inked into her ankle.

“This one too,” Fidel said from where he knelt over the other corpse. “Perhaps they were part of the camp? Managed to get away?”

Corinos shook his head, thinking. “I suppose – but wouldn’t it make more sense to run down the mountain? The forest would have thinned out, and they would have stood a better chance of getting away. To go deeper into the forest…it was virtually a guarantee that they would be killed.”

“Perhaps they were trying to warn someone.”

“That could very well be. Why all the way up here? The Azul are of no interest, unless you live in one of the little villages and they would not venture into this part of it. Nothing but forest for miles around, and far too easy to become lost.”

“Also easy to hide things,” Fidel said, and stood up. “Where did that snake go now?”

Corinos frowned as he realized that Ruisenor had disappeared again. Then he saw her, just barely, several yards away. “There,” he said, standing and pointing even as he started moving.

Ruisenor was little more than a coiled shadow in the gloomy forest, twisting and twining around herself as she moved agitatedly about the little clearing, finally coiling up as they arrived.

Fidel’s breath hissed out between his teeth. “I recognize this man,” he said.

“Who is he?” Corinos asked, kneeling to examine the short, stocky man who had obviously died of his wounds – deep cuts in his sides, across his chest, down one leg. Any of them alone would have been survivable, but cumulative they were fatal without immediate treatment.

“I have not seen him in many years,” Fidel said, crouching down beside Corinos. “The last time I saw him was my parents’ funeral. He is a member of the White Rose…one of the higher ranking members, in fact. What is he doing all the way out here?”

Corinos examined the dead man and the sword which lay nearby. “It looks to me as though he killed the two back there, which means he was likely involved in the deaths at the campsite. So does that mean the two Brotherhoods are out here trying to kill each other?” He bent back to examining the man, digging through his clothes and the small bag on his belt for any indication of what was going on in the Azul Mountains.

He found only an empty flask, several coppers, a few silver…and a gold signet ring. Corinos frowned as he examined the crest stamped into the fine gold. An owl and moon…something in the back of his mind stirred. There were so many noble houses, and more besides traveling between four countries, he had trouble remembering them all…but this one was native. He was certain of it.

The answer came to him in a flash, and Corinos drew a sharp breath. “Lady Marcela,” he said.

“What?”

Corinos shook his head, tried to gather his thoughts. “The crest on this ring belongs to Lady Marcela’s family. She was killed the night you two kidnapped Culebra. I had thought it must somehow be related, but with one thing and another, I always forgot to ask you about it. She had a tattoo of a white rose on her thigh. Someone tried to frame Culebra and his snakes for the murder…”

Fidel stared at him, looking as baffled as Corinos felt. “The White Rose want nothing to do with nobility. They see the noble houses as a cause for the rampant violence and such they say is everywhere. Such divisions do not lead to the peace the Basilisk’s death was meant to achieve. They would never induct a member of the nobility. Why would this man, here in the middle of nowhere, have a ring belonging to a woman that ordinarily the White Rose would want nothing to do with?”

“When I figure it out, I will be certain to let you know,” Corinos said, and stood up. “Come, we must hurry. Whatever is going on, my friend, I sense that we are very close to being too late to prevent it. I also do not feel safe in this forest – rather, I feel even less safe than I did before.”

“Agreed,” Fidel said, and they all but ran back to their horses, turning them carefully in the dense forest before going as quickly as they could back toward the rough path, led by the glimmering shadow that was Ruisenor.

Corinos closed his eyes against the fear that was threatening to consume him. His blood felt a hundred times colder than the rain that continued to torment them. Culebra, he thought, nearly trembling with fear for his prince though he didn’t know why he should be so scared. Be careful.

Comments

[mailechan.livejournal.com]

Oh wow, you just get better and better every time I read something from you. I love the mystery you have going in this book. And I'm so glad Fidel and Corinos have decided to stop fighting fate and be friends!

[mechante-fille.livejournal.com]

*sigh* So lovely. I love the whole friends from enemies thing going on. And Culebra offering to make Cortez his bodyguard is so precious. She'd make a fine one, for sure. And perhaps... well, I'll just wait and see.

Hmm, the dead bodies were unexpected. I can't wait to see what is going on! I hope Culebra and Cortez will be safe in the temple until Fidel and Corinos get there. *nibbles fingers*

I got behind in reading this weekend, and was going to read in order, but when I saw this post I tossed all plans of waiting right out the window.^^ I'm looking forward to next Monday! And to Thursday. And maybe some Sugar and Spice tucked somewhere in the middle... ^_^

[suspendisbelief.livejournal.com]

^__________^
Thanks for brightening my mondays!

makes me smile now that the pairs are friends.
aha it'll be funny to see both Corinos and Fidel get jealous over how well Culebra and Cortez get along. ^_^ Fidel's the only one whose name starts with a 'F'; if Cortez becomes the second bodyguard, then will Fidel become clerk in the palace?
love Ruisenor's name. Can't wait for Ruisenor to meet Cortez

all those dead people... the plot thickens, why isn't it next week yet =P

[phoenix-rinna.livejournal.com]

Argh! Corinos and Fidel need to meet up with Cortez and Culebra!! We're so, so close to it happening, and then we keep having to wait another week! And this plus the current cliffhanger in Prisoner is flat out painful. Gah.

Both stories equal love, however. Very much. Just-urgh. Next time, I'm just going to wait until after you've finished posting a story to even start reading it! (Of course, that's what I said to myself I would do for Stone Rose. I lasted about a week.)

But yes, moving beyond cliffhangers and things that need to happen and haven't yet - the mystery deepens. Hmm. Interesting.

[emthornhill.livejournal.com]

Yeah! \^__^/ Although I am dubbing you the Queen of Tortured cliffhangers. <=D

[aqua-eyes.livejournal.com]

<3 The Lost Gods was the first thing I ever read of yours.

[the-beccaroo.livejournal.com]

I love that Fidel likes to talk about Cortez, how adorable. I love coming home to see that this has been updated, hee, enjoying this so much even as the cliffhangers gnaw at me. ^_^

[stardance.livejournal.com]

OMG a black rose and a white, both hiding their secrets from each other as they are partners and secretly in love with each other... How awesome. I love the little surprises that make me gasp and go "OMG AWESOME" before I continue on and you do that over and over! I can't wait to figure out how Cortez and Fidel tie into the return of the Basilisk. I am impatient for the four of them to meet up! Can that please be soon? XDDDD Thanks for no cliffhangers since I have to wait almost 2 weeks for the next one. *glomps!*

[arithonrose.livejournal.com]

ahh!! the plot thickens.....I am enjoying this