45

Daggers and Smiles

Even in a room full of fit and trained killers, Jotham still looked wild and out of place. Somehow, he made the room seem too small, and he stood a full head and a half taller than the Mester who looked up at him, cheeks pinched with fury.

"How did you-"

"How did I get out of the cave?" Jotham asked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He moved closer to the Mester, ignoring the watching men and women, and stopping just before their noses touched.

"Did you miss me?"

"How did you get out?" The Mester said, through bared teeth. Two spots of colour appeared on her cheeks and a muscle twitched on her forehead. Jotham glanced down at Candle who was still pinned beneath the Mester's iron grip and flashed her a smile with his rather prominent canines. He laid a hand on Candle's other shoulder, so that the girl was caught between the two adults. He met the Mester's gaze across the top of her head.

"Let's just say I made a new friend."

"Who in the Night is this?" demanded Locryn.

"Revenant," said Jory. His voice was loud and clear and every member of the Own was listening. Just like that every man and woman was on their feet, their weapons directed at Jotham who pointedly ignored the circle of iron. His heavily muscled frame was relaxed, although his eyes were wary.

"Call off your warriors, Eisheth. I don't want to hurt them. I'm just here for Candle."

"Leave the girl alone," said the Mester, her voice quiet.

"What do you want with her?" cried Locryn.

"To keep her safe."

"She's safe here."

"I disagree," said Jotham, swinging around to regard Locryn. He looked the young man up and down then leaned over and sniffed at him. Locryn made a visible effort not to lean back and Jotham grinned at his discomfort.

"You must be Locryn."

"Just who in the Night are you?"

"Jotham," the Mester said, calling his attention back to her. "This is not the time or the place."

"Again, I must disagree."

"The girl has a demon," said the Mester. "I can't let her go, you know that."

"She does?" Jotham looked down at Candle who nodded, her face tight. "Doesn't matter, she's still coming with me."

The Mester shifted, her hand clenching, everyone in the room tensed.

"I have jurisdiction."

"By the Old Gods and your own pox-riddled Ancestors you do not."

The air around the Mester hummed and Jotham was shunted backwards, pushed by an invisible force.

"Careful Eisheth," he said, his voice resonating with warning. "I'm not bound anymore and this time, I'm ready for your tricks."

"Leave."

"Make me."

Around him the Ancestors' Own sucked in a breath. Everyone was still on edge from the battle with Rasmus's thugs. This would end in violence, Candle knew, the Own would not stand idly by while the Mester was insulted. Her worry bore fruit a moment later as Jotham, shifted his weight. Someone panicked, and a shower of weapons flew through the air towards Jotham's heart. The air pulsed, and every blade froze, hanging suspended in midair. A bead of sweat started on Jotham's forehead, and the grin dropped off his face.

"She has clearly given in to her demon," said the Mester, as if they weren't surrounded by levitating weapons. A moment later they clattered to the floor, and Jotham breathed out.

"She is an innocent."

"And I am supposed to take the word of a Revenant?"

"Your hypocrisy knows no bounds."

A multitude of emotions crossed the Mester's face, and the temperature in the mess plummeted. Candle breathed out and the air in front of her frosted like mist. The room grew deathly quiet, as if all the sound was being sucked out of it, and most of the Own took a step back. By the doorway people started to leave. Those closest to the Mester and Jotham backed away, giving the pair space, but Jotham and the Mester had eyes only for each other.

Patterns of ice were blossoming on the four stone walls of the mess, and Candle felt, rather than saw, Jotham gathering in energy. Locryn darted forward and grabbed Candle, dragging her backwards out of harm's way.

"Do it," said Jotham, his lip curling. "Show them what you really are, my love."

With a roar of rage the Mester released her furled hand and Jotham was consumed by a ball of darkness. The darkness was a living thing, an absence of light that pulsed and cascaded around him in a torrent, ripping into his body with vicious energy. A wind tore through the mess and those few members of the Own that had lingered, ran for the door. Candle and her team, however, were trapped in the corner of the room - sandwiched between the wall and the raging darkness. Jory and Pasco dropped the stout table they had so recently been sitting at on its side, and they all crouched behind it, the wind whipping their hair and snatching at their clothes. A moment later everything stilled, and the darkness dissipated. To Candle's intense relief Jotham was revealed still standing, although his face was torn and bleeding. His veins stood out an ugly blue on his forehead. His skin was purple and patched but he was healing as she watched, the threads of magic surging across his skin and knitting the flesh together. His eyebrows were drawn together and his face was like a thunder cloud.

"So that's how you want to play this," he said, golden eyes blazing. "Let's do this."

He advanced on the Mester, twin towers of starfire erupting on either side of him - great plumes of light that shone cold and incandescent, bathing the walls in unearthly light. Veins of lightning ran up and down his forearms.

"Get out of my castle, Jotham," said the Mester, shadows dancing around her clenched fists. Candle ducked her head behind the table, hunching over as the air exploded with white light as the two connected. Howling torrents of air raked her face with fingers of ice until she pressed it into the crook of her arm. Someone, probably Pasco, was sheltering her with his body as stone walls started to shake.

Violent shock waves surged outwards from the epicentre of the room, and the hairs on the back of Candle’s neck rose with the whine of the wind. She clung desperately to Pasco and Locryn as the floor bucked beneath them, shaking and bumping them together before dumping them on the ground as it settled with a dull, ominous groan. The walls however, continued to rattle and quiver. Candle ground her teeth together as crash after booming crash echoed through the mess, the aftershocks vibrating through her bones. The air was a maelstrom of splinters and debris and the noise escalated as lightning scoured the ceiling, humming and fizzling. The temperature dived for a second time, and behind them wood began to crack and splinter. Timber exploded, and the scent of frost and wood shavings filled the room. One by one each and every table in the room burst, shattering into a thousand icy shards which were then flung against the wall. Somewhere in the centre of the storm, someone cried out in pain and rage. The gale rose to a mighty din, blocking out any other noises from the fight and the castle shook once more, the very bones of the foundation rocking and shuddering. Candle flinched, and flinched again as pieces of ceramic and furniture slammed into the wall behind her.

At last, the howling wind abated, leaving a breathless silence. Candle lifted her head to see what was happening, but Pasco gestured warningly, pulling her down again. A moment later the room was plummeted into deepest, darkest night. This time the silence was a blanketing, oppressive stillness that made Candle's ear's pop and her heart thump against her ribs. Unseen creatures moved in the dark, a thousand claws skittered and scampered across the stone, before lightning and starfire poured across the air in a torrent, giving chase. The oppressive stillness lifted but it was not over yet. The room rocked, once more, and with a monstrous cracking of stone, one wall of the mess collapsed outwards into the grounds. Light flooded in as the piles of tumbling masonry fell onto the earth with a booming thud. The very last of the shadows fled from the corners as dust and debris rained down from the ceiling.

Candle and the others stayed safely behind the table, waiting and listening, their bodies braced for the continuation of the violence. After a few minutes of quiet they dared to look.

Jotham and the Mester stood in the centre of the room, both of them breathing deeply, both of them covered in dust and debris but otherwise unharmed. Lightning crackling gently in Jotham's hair, while shadows skidded around the Mester's fingers, and slid across her forearms. Her hair had come unbound in the fight, and cascaded over her shoulders in a windswept mass of silver that made her look most unlike her usual, carefully groomed self. She was angrier than Candle had ever seen her. Angrier even than when she had strode into the cavern of the spring and shot the demon-possessed man who had been threatening Delen.

The once orderly dining room was completely destroyed. Not a shred of furniture remained, and one wall was gone, along with part of the ceiling. The corner and table Candle and the others were crouched behind was the only unharmed area. She realised with a shock that one that one or both of the combatants must have been shielding them from the worst of the fight.

"I don't have time for this" hissed the Mester.

"You started it," snarled Jotham. "I was being quite reasonable."

"In case you haven't noticed there is an invading army camped on my beaches."

"Then don't test me, my love," he said, his words clipped and rumbling deep in his chest. "Unless you want me to help them level what is left of your kingdom?"

The Mester considered Jotham with cold eyes, and he glared right back, his jaw clenched. Then she glanced over her shoulder to where Candle was watching from behind the table.

"I don't have time for this," she repeated. She looked back at Jotham. "Take her and go. I will deal with you both later."

Jotham's lightning flickered out and he stalked over to the table, grinning wildly. He offered Candle his large hand, which she took immediately. Locryn protested, trying to hold her back, but Candle let Jotham heave her over the table.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I am so sorry, but I don't want to be locked up ever again."