Page 48 of Hexes & Heartstrings (Shifters of Bastion Keep #2)

"I wasn't trying to kill anyone, cousin," Kerry said, letting his head hang low again. "I wasn't trying to hurt anyone, I was just trying to shut things down, but I'm not always here, especially out there ."

"Quit prattling nonsense," Lady Yi ordered. "Your reasons for invading are immaterial, and right now you would do well to submit yourself to Lord Sergiy's judgment."

"Oh, I don't know," Marka added. "I'd kind of like to know why, myself. But I agree with the whole surrendering thing, because as much as I was hoping to bash in his skull after a drawn out fight, I wouldn't mind being home in time for dinner."

Lord Kerry stood up from his throne, and Sergiy immediately had his spear pointed out, but the man was staggering, barely finding his feet.

Still, the lord's back was straight, and he met Sergiy's gaze without flinching, and Sergiy couldn't help but think about how he'd done much the same when he'd been at the clinic last month, projecting that sense of control.

"Within Bastion's heart," Kerry began haltingly, as if he were piecing his sentences together from a collection of elusive words, "is…

a shut off valve for the obelisks. I know this, because my father's court mage was the one that spelled it up.

It was a way for the Lord of the Keep to seal off the veil in case of an emergency.

I went to Bastion, your Bastion I suppose, to activate it.

That was my one goal, and nothing else."

"But then why—" Marka began, but Kerry raised a hand, silencing her, though Sergiy suspected that it had more to do with the harrowed look he gave her.

"That was my one goal, but they had other plans. These damnable spirits within me."

Lord Kerry gestured to his body, but Sergiy couldn't see or scent anything unusual. He looked out of the corner of his eye for Roland, and his High Priest clutched at a wooden carving before giving him a curt nod.

"Aye, warlord," he whispered."Perhaps a dozen or more, like a swarm of lamprey's, now that I'm looking."

"These spirits built this place that is before you," Kerry continued, "leeching power from the obelisks each and every time they were recharged. Bastion's court mages continued to power them, and have continued to power them over the last… decade? Several decades?"

"Century," Sergiy said. "History says you abandoned Bastion about a hundred and twenty years ago."

"I've been here that long…" Kerry said, shaking his head, then met Sergiy's gaze.

"These spirits I am infused with have their own will, and it has been a long time since I could command them fully.

They wanted this place built, and each time a Bastion mage powered an obelisk, it became larger.

Since they wanted it, I decided that I did not , so I tried to take action, but you can see whose desires won out in the end. "

"What is this place, then?" Roland asked. "A copy of our home?"

Kerry gestured vaguely, shaking his head.

"It looks like Bastion because they drew the place from my mind.

No. I suspect that this place is intended to be a mobile fortress for the spirits that I house, and their allies.

I do not know what they want it for, but surely nothing good for our land. "

Sergiy frowned, watching as Kerry sank down into his throne, laying his head back against it and closing his eyes.

"Lord Kerry—"

"Do me a favor, cousin?" the man said. "I know that I have wronged you and already owe you an insurmountable debt, but I must deepen that debt and beg a grace from you. I need you to kill me."

That brought Sergiy up short, and even Lady Yi and his sister held their tongues.

That's what he came here to do, though, wasn't it? To slay the fallen lord and remove the danger to Bastion Keep? Even though it could be a trick or a trap of some kind, he found himself considering it, and he shifted his grip on his spear.

"Hang on!" he heard Bruin say, and then saw his mate weave his way around the guardians until he was beside Sergiy, who gave a long-suffering hiss to Auguste for letting him slip past. "If the spirits are the problem, can't we just remove them? I'm sure our priest knows how to exor—"

"Don't speak!" Lord Kerry thundered, leaning forward.

"Don't, no, don't suggest such, not out loud.

It is a struggle to stay myself, and they will not take kindly to an open threat against them.

And though your suggestion is… kindhearted…

it would not work. Right now they are bound to me through old deals and promises.

Remove them, and they will be free to do their ill mischief.

But if you slay me, I think, perhaps, they will be destroyed or banished for breaking their own end of the deal to safeguard me.

No, this is best, and I am tired. Do this for me, cousin, before they become aware of what I intend. "

Sergiy saw Marka hefting her broadsword, giving an incredulous whuff as she whispered to Sergiy. "Is the man seriously going to just let us put him down?"

"It is what I want," Kerry said, undoing the front laces on his shirt and ripping a line down the neck, exposing his chest. "It would be a true kindness, while I still have my mind.

I haven't been alone in my thoughts in quite some time, but your presence here has greatly disturbed them, and they are currently distracted. "

Sergiy sniffed the air, but only smelled salt water and stone. He glanced first at Marka, who shrugged, then to his other side.

"If this lord's mind has been besieged and overthrown, then it would indeed be a mercy," Lady Yi declared as she brandished her rapier. "I would want as much for myself, were I in his position. I will do it, warlord, if you do not have the stomach."

Sergiy shook his head, then approached closer to the throne.

Slowly, he took the point of his shortspear and placed it at the man's chest, looking into the other man's face to be certain.

Most of what he saw was weariness, but there were starting to be brushstrokes of hope, like someone about to be finished with a long, exhausting task.

But as he settled his spear properly between the ribs, drawing a few drops of blood in the process, he heard a sound like fingernails on glass and pulled back, pivoting his spear.

"M'lord!" Arthur shouted, stepping out through a bleeding portal behind the throne.

Sergiy hissed in surprise. What was Lady Yi's witch doing here? How had he gotten here?

Not even turning around, Kerry began to laugh.

"Oh, aye, course I've gone mad at the end! Fully mad, haha!" And as he laughed, Sergiy saw Arthur lick his lips nervously as he held his witch's dagger out in one hand, the other holding a chain that led back into the dark rift.

"Arthur," Sergiy said sharply, about to order him behind the line of safety.

"Dafydd," Kerry said at the same time, a name shockingly familiar from the books Sergiy had been reading. "Are you yet another figment? No, you aren't part of this prison, like these other ghosts. If you were, I could banish you, banish your wretched face."

"I'm not a figment, Kay, it's me, Dafydd, in the flesh. Your mate, your love, your—"

" Jailer ," Lord Kerry snarled, knocking aside Sergiy's spear with a wing tip as he exploded to his feet and adopted his own black-scaled weredrake form, striding towards the Hedge witch.

Sergiy sprang forward himself, thrusting the butt of his spear out to block the other lord's progress.

"Witch!" Lady Yi demanded. "Get over here and explain yourself."

Lord Kerry crossed his arms, his tail lashing as he stared silently at the newcomer over Sergiy's spear.

Around them, Sergiy noticed that the guardian ghosts had become frozen again, and that most of his warband was starting to circle closer.

Even Yacob and Summer had ventured into the room, he could feel, probably drawn in by the conversation and lack of combat.

He saw 'Dafydd' tighten his grip on his dagger, wringing its hilt in his hand.

"Yes, witch," Kerry said. "Explain how you struck deals with spirits, cursed me, and then imprisoned me in this cage!"

"I didn't!" the man said, sweat soaking through the armpits of the dress shirt that he wore beneath his cardigan. "At least, I didn't mean to. You asked me to give you courage, help you be a better warlord, I was just helping my mate out."

"By putting these things in me! Spirits, Dafydd! You put living spirits in me, and when they grew too powerful to remove, you put others within to chase them out, and then that failed."

"You wanted it, at first," Dafydd said, trembling but holding his head up. "You were so pleased the first few battles. I won't take all the blame."

The black drake let out a low growl.

"…aye. I did. But I thought the things were like gossamer shrouds, to be put on and off, not barbed hooks in my soul.

And you never corrected me! Do you know how many guardians I led to their deaths because I couldn't turn off the ruthlessness?

Chasing prey to the Umbral depths, picking fights with powerful shadows because the spirits had a taste for violence?

Thirty-seven, Davey. I can't forget their faces, not when they're with me every day. "

And with that, Sergiy now knew the exact number of frozen soldiers in the room.

"Yes, well… it's okay now. Kay, it's okay!

This place is finally built, so my part of the deal is complete.

The final deal! They'll all leave you, and then we can leave here.

We can be together, and you won't go mad.

A lot has changed over the last century, and time will touch us again, but we can adapt. "

"Ah, Davey…" Kerry shook his head, and his wings crumpled. "I can't, it's too much. I'm tired. And I don't have much time, I feel. Lord Usenko. As you were?"

Sergiy saw the lord turn his back on his mate, then kneel before him.

"Hey, no, Kay. Kerry!"

"I won't give them this place," the fallen lord declared. "My wretched soul may not be worth a half-penny, and I fear I'm half-mad already, but it can afford to purchase at least that much. Cousin, do it."

Sergiy lifted his spear, pointing it at the other's chest. He heard Dafydd gasp, and briefly, he hesitated. He thought about if it were himself kneeling, and how much that would hurt Bruin.

But as a warlord for Bastion Keep, he well understood responsibility, so he braced himself to make the strike as quick and as painless as possible.

"Stay yourself, Lord!"

However, even as he set the point properly, adjusted now more to the left on account of the wider sternum of a drake's body, he heard a jangle of chains and shocked oaths from his pack.And then he smelled a scent that didn't belong here at all.

Raising his head, he saw Dafydd pointing his dagger up at Russ, his beloved wolf bound in rusted iron and being pulled out from the rift by ghostly arms. He saw Russ flinch away from the blade, staring at the room with eyes white with fear, before settling on Sergiy, recognition causing him to whine and his canine ears to perk up.

"I don't want to hurt him, or do this," Dafydd said through a rising, white-hot flame. "I just had to get your attention somehow, Lord Sergiy. It's fine, this will all be fine, nobody has to die."

Sergiy heard growls around him, himself included, and he fought hard to control himself. Treating it like a mental attack, he hurried to diminish his pack senses, spreading calm. They must not charge blindly forward!

Yet he was still nearly choking on his anger, and his hand tightened around his spear unconsciously, hefting it to throw.Why?

"You.Mother. Fucker. "

And then Bruin, his mate, a flood of emotions in his chest that he couldn't dam off, shouldered his way past the front line of guardians, the floor of the room almost trembling like there were an earthquake.

Shit.