Warsinger James Baldwin (read this if TXT) 📖

a kiss to her brow. Rutha broke down, burying her face against my shoulder.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I got you involved in this... this freak show,” she wept. “I had no idea... I had no idea Gael was back, that he was LIKE this. Lord and Lady, he possessed a Starborn, Hector. I know Baldr didn't ask for this. I’m just… I’m so glad it wasn’t you.”

“Don't feel sorry for Baldr. He was a jerk on his own merits.” I hesitated for a moment, before stroking her hair back toward her collar. When I'd met her, it had been pure white, tumbling down her back in long, lustrous waves. Now it was still short and brittle, like straw - but her roots were growing in, and they were softer and healthier. “I tried to warn him when we were sitting on the edge of Ororgael's trap. He thought I was trying to fuck him over, so he decided to try and get one up on me and walked right into it. You wouldn't believe how much shit has happened since I last saw you.”

Rutha cleared her throat, then held up a hand and rolled over to one of the tables. There, she picked up a glass of water and had a shaky sip. “There... sorry. My voice isn't quite what it used to be. And I can and do believe you, Hector. I have much to discuss with everyone as well. It is probably not as uplifting as what you have to tell me.”

“I dunno about that. Shit hasn't just gone down in Ilia. It's been kind of rough here, too.” I glanced at Ignas, who snorted.

“Ignas told me about Andrik, in brief.” Rutha nodded, settling back into her chair. “And the Void creatures... I'm afraid they aren't the only Netherthings to have crawled out from under the edge of the Caul of Souls.”

“Yeah, about that...” I joined her at the table, and poured myself and Ignas a drink from the pitcher there. “You were right. The Caul is kaput.”

“Oh yes, believe me, I heard all about that from Baldr, too.” Rutha's prim British accent turned very chilly as she said his name. “The Void-ruined wreck is full of mad delusions about it.”

Ignas accepted the glass of water with a small nod of thanks, sniffed it out of habit, then took a sip. “Just to clarify - this Ororgael and the Starborn usurper, Baldr Hyland, are truly the same person?”

“Yes,” Rutha replied.

I held up a finger. “Technically, they were two different people, but some weird shit happened and now they're the same person. Two minds in one body.”

“It’s even stranger than that.” The sorceress turned her face. “There is no… split personality, for lack of a better term. No separation between their thoughts. I knew Gael better than anyone, and it is him, but it’s also not him at the same time. It truly is as if two people were combined into one heartless monster.”

“Then Ororgael was not always this way?” The Volod regarded her over the rim of his glass.

Rutha shook her head. “Gael… he was my first love. An intelligent, gentle, strong-willed man. Ambitious, yes, but never cruel. When I first met him, I was an urchin in Lys, living in a boarding house and making a living from enchanting trinkets with black market mana. He took one of them and was astounded to learn I had never formally studied magic. From that day on, we were inseparable. As student and teacher, and then as lovers. I know now there was much he was concealing from me, but he was never… twisted like this. Not toward me, or within my sight. But now...”

The woman trailed off, and closed her eyes. “Well. You see the results here, I suppose.”

“And Baldr?” Ignas glanced between us both. “What did he bring to the stew?”

“A career soldier with a god complex. He was already a ruthless son of a bitch when I met him,” I said. “He'd kill you as soon as look at you, and he had a pretty healthy dose of contempt for anyone he thought was beneath him. But he never seemed like the kind of guy who’d torture a woman for kicks. His lieutenant Lucien, on the other hand…”

Rutha shuddered. “Lucien was responsible for most of my scars. They are both sick, in different ways. Can you believe Baldr made Lucien the Knight-Commander of the Eyrie? The state of the place now… you would be sickened by it, Hector.”

“Is Usta dead?” I asked.

“No. Unfortunately.” Rutha swallowed, then took a longer drink. “The last I heard, she was still comatose. The Knights of St. Grigori are demoralized, but powerless to disobey Lucien after he and Baldr murdered Skyr Arnaud and who-knows-else. Half the Eyrie lives in the capitol now. The other half… I have no idea where they are. Searching for you and your dragon, or perhaps a wild Queen. They’re desperate to resume breeding and training.”

I looked down, brows furrowed. “Do you know what happened to Fort Palewing? Sergeant Blackwin? Skyr Tymos?”

“Only that the fort had been razed by dragonfire,” Rutha said. “Something about a rebellion. It didn't last any longer than your stay in Ilia.”

Shit. That was bad news. Sergeant Blackwin had never done me any wrong. Neither had the Meewfolk librarian, Jasper. Skyr Tymos had been bound by the geas that imprisoned the knights and dragons, but he’d done his best to see me to safety. Baldr and Lucien were the kind of guys who looked at people like that and thought ‘hey, free EXP!’.

“I am sorry to interrupt, but we must go to the chamber and present your testimony, lady,” Ignas said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Hector, go and situate yourself in the galley while I assist the lady. It would be preferable that Voivode Janos see you in my company as little as possible.”

“Why?” I asked.

“He is the scion of a very old noble Vlachian family, for one. His ancestors rode with mine