(finale)

Darkness gave way to flickering sapphire flames. Rune-etched rocks burst from the void, forming the great island where he'd visited Solveig. Great maws of darkness opened within the rock. From the darkness emerged a soft sound: the cry of a bird, perhaps. No...the bleating of an elk.

Frowning, Caderyn stepped into the murky shadows. More sounds rippled from the great void. When he cocked his head to the left, the noise was a bloodcurdling scream. Yet when he tilted his head in the other direction, the sound was a soft, sonorous wail of pleasure. Both sounds sent conflicting chills through his body. Both sounds beckoned him further into darkness.

He emerged within the very same cavern where he'd bred Solveig during the ritual. Glowing blue vines emerged from the pool of sacred water, entwining around rune-etched boulders. Pinned to the boulder in the center of the chamber was the voluptuous witch. Blue runes adorned her pale curves. Hungry, icy blue eyes stared at him as she entered. Her curvaceous body rippled against the bindings and her wide hips bucked invitingly.

Reality blurred around him and he found himself shifting through the air, stopping right before the bound, begging witch.

"Once more, Caderyn," she rasped, her lips panting with need.

Those hungry words dispelled the conscious knowledge that this was but a dream. Taking hold of his shaft, he guided himself towards her sex. When they'd first made love, he'd teased her mercilessly before claiming and breeding her, but he lacked the strength for such games in that moment.

Growling, he leaned forward and shifted his hips, driving himself deep inside her. The very moment that his hips settled against hers, the air rippled around the witch. Blue light flashed and a new lover replaced her.

Now Yvonne was pinned upon the altar beneath him. Her curly blonde hair splayed out upon the rock, her ample, pale breasts heaving with effort. Soft legs rose, wrapping around his waist, keeping him trapped inside her. A jolt of regret and revulsion struck him. Back in Jadewall, she'd seduced him and had nearly swayed him into fucking her, but only Caderyn's love for her half-sister Melisent had warded off his desire.

And yet he had no such self-control now. Overwhelmed by the warmth of her body and the depraved sensation of breeding his rival's trueborn daughter, Caderyn leaned pulled his hips back, preparing for another plunge.

Her soft, trembling cry ripped through the air. More blue light flashed as she clenched around him. The pulse of light banished Yvonne and replaced her with none other than Tessandra. The blonde bard writhed beneath him, her green eyes gleaming, her slender limbs shaking against the rune-etched rock.

"How cruel of you, to deny me the gift you gave Solveig," she said, pouting up at him and fluttering her lashes.

A flash of desperate confusion ripped through his mind. During all their time together, Tessandra had never once begged to be bred as Solveig had. Such an act would have created considerable scandal, and they'd taken care to avoid any such complications.

And yet there she was, biting her lip beneath him, her body adorned with the same sacred fertility runes that had marked Solveig's body.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

In response, Tessandra leaned up, straining against the bonds. Unable to resist the allure of her red-painted lips, he leaned down to give her a slow and gentle kiss.

"Of course it's what I want," she murmured with worshipful devotion, as her slender thighs tightened around his powerful hips.

And just as before, the very moment he delivered the first firm thrust, blue light flashed and her body shifted.

Pelagia replaced the bard, her freckled, athletic body just as helpless within the glowing blue vines as the other women had been. Her short, sweaty red curls clung to her freckled skin as she stared up at him. Unlike the others, she was not content simply to lie there and take it.

Instead she grasped his waist tightly with her powerful legs and rocked up against him. Caderyn shuddered and groaned, reveling in the sensations. Even though afflicted by the power of the dream, he had enough sense to hold back, knowing that a single thrust from him would cause the vision to shift.

"Are you sure?" Caderyn murmured, grunting a little with that last word.

"Absolutely," Pelagia growled back. "Your strength and mine together? Imagine the sort of knight such a child could become."

The vines quaked and snapped. One firm hand lurched free of the bindings and reached down to grip the small of his back. Unable to resist, Caderyn cried out and plowed his hips forward, sheathing himself fully within the knight.

Blue light flashed. To his shock and chagrin, another lover did not replace Pelagia upon the rune-etched altar. Instead the stone melted away and Caderyn collapsed into the holy pond. Sputtering, he spat out the water and rose to his feet. Water rippled around him, dancing over his muscular form. The droplets flashed with bright blue light and shifted into armored scales. Clad in that strange and bestial armor, Caderyn frowned and looked around the chamber.

Another cry echoed from the darkness up ahead. Confusion and fear took hold. Caderyn broke into a sprint, vanishing into the shadows. Red light rippled from within the void, giving shape to another chamber.

No. Not a chamber, but a cobblestone street. Lining either side of it were small, humble homes and shops. The moon pulsed in the night sky overhead. In the middle of the quaint, quiet street was the ducal carriage: the very same one his mother had used the night of the attempt on her life.

His skin crawled with the realization of where he was.

Whirling, he turned towards the tavern where he'd been brawling with Gwion when Duchess Sarya had arrived to take him home on the night of the attack. Heart racing and muscles tensing, he sprinted forth and slammed into the door. It shattered into splinters.

In the midst of the sandy fighting pit stood his brother Berent. The young redheaded man was clad in armor of green scales; within each hand was an emerald-adorned dagger. Blood dripped from those bejeweled blades, forming a great and grisly pool at Berent's feet.

"What did you do?" Caderyn hissed.

Berent merely smiled and pointed with the bloody daggers at a room to the far end of the tavern. A long streak of blood ran from the fighting pit to the door, sending another chill through Caderyn's heart. What grisly work had Berent hidden behind that door?

Horror rose, mingling with his fury at Berent. He broke into another sprint, brushing past his brother, and reached for the doorknob. Ice coiled around his wrist and he paused, his heart racing with dark thoughts of what rested beyond.

After a deep breath, he leaned back and slammed his foot against the door, sending it flying inwards.

The dream shattered and his eyes flashed open. Caderyn was upon his bedroll in a large tent, with empty bedrolls beside him. Shuddering with alarm, he darted to his feet and flailed about for his sword. Ice filled his muscles as he took hold of the blade.

Cheers thundered from outside the tent. Sword in hand and fury in his heart, Caderyn stormed outside.

He stopped in his tracks as sunlight washed over his face. Before him loomed the keep of Baron Aelred: the ancient tower of black stone standing tall and unbroken over a mess of shattered walls and ruptured fortifications. Beneath it rested the blackened corpse of the market town. Beyond the town's ruins was the great siege camp that had been in place for months.

Nearly bursting into delirious laughter with the realization that he was no longer dreaming, Caderyn shuddered. Around him, confused and freshly-awoken soldiers bowed towards the shirtless, armed duke.

Another wave of cheers rose as a trebuchet unleashed a heavy stone that crashed into the side of the great black tower. The impact left nothing more than a faint blemish and the debris of the projectile tumbled down onto the other ruins below.

Slow, deep breaths settled Caderyn's mind and he focused on the present moment and the waking world.

After the death of Lucan, Aelred had pulled most of his forces back towards Stonecurrent, leaving his fortress behind. Rather than expend lives with bloody assaults, Caderyn's forces had merely bypassed the fortress, leaving behind a small force to keep it isolated and surrounded. Over the months of war, the fortress had held firm against the siege. During the journey back to Fellhaven, Caderyn and his escort had stopped at the siege camp to rest and resupply. Despite the death of Aelred, his son, and the defeat of Thandor, Aelred's knights had managed to stubbornly cling to the castle. Even with the war over in Jadewall itself, Aelred's loyal fools had stood firm within their dead lord's keep.

After watching the bombardment for a few more moments, he slipped back into his tent to don his sturdy tabard, trousers, leather boots, and a bearskin cape. Now looking more like a proper warrior-duke, he strode out in search of the camp's commander.

He found Pelagia and Sir Lambert within a small wooden watchtower erected for optimal visibility over the siegeworks. Once Caderyn joined them, the grizzled old knight greeted the duke with a bow, while Pelagia gave him a dutiful nod.

The dream flickered within the shadows of his mind, recalling how eager Pelagia had been for him to breed her. That seemed a ridiculous notion now, and yet he still half-hardened within his trousers.

Sir Lambert's dull, dutiful report on the state of the siege helped dispel such desires.

"As you can see, my duke, we've reduced nearly every aspect of the fortifications save for the central tower. The old Empire's engineers certainly were masters of their craft. We now have more than a dozen direct approaches for an assault, though."

"No," Caderyn said. "Victory is already ours, there is no need to spill more blood of our loyal soldiers. We will wait them out."

"Their obstinance is an insult to you, my duke. The fact that they still fight on despite Aelred's death and Thandor's capture is-"

"A feat of valor, I daresay," said Pelagia. "Aye, they fight in the name of a dead traitor, but I cannot doubt their courage."

Lambert's lips curled into a vicious sneer but he offered no rebuke.

"And what was their response to the latest terms?" Caderyn asked.

"Laughter and a bucket of piss tossed towards the emissary. They still respect the white flag, however. Perhaps they are in fact guided by a twisted sort of honor."

"Then I shall go," Caderyn said with a nod. "Under the white flag, of course, and with a sufficient escort."

Lambert's wrinkled face twitched but he did not dare defy his duke.

"Of course, my lord. I shall make the arrangements."

**

After donning his full array of armor, Caderyn rode forth with Pelagia and two dozen knights towards the great keep of black stone. Their route took them through the market town that had been forcibly evacuated and sacked by his forces in an attempt to force the defenders to submit.

During his last visit, Aelred had given Caderyn a grand and warm welcome, with no hint of his planned betrayal. It was also during his stay there when Caderyn had confessed to Melisent the full truth of his connection to Solveig. That painful confession had irrevocably altered their bond.

And yet thoughts of his future wife sent icy knives through his heart. After everything he'd learned in Jadewall, it seemed that Thandor had been telling the truth about his innocence, at least as far as the conspiracy was concerned. It thus meant that Melisent was either lying or mistaken about her father's involvement.

Even as they crossed within the great tower's shadow, he could not tear his mind away from those doubts. Had Thandor just weaved another lie after his defeat in order to sow distrust? Had Melisent lied to Caderyn about who had procured the poison? And what was Berent's connection to that baffling chain of events? Thandor claimed to have given Berent an emerald-adorned dagger and a matching gem had been found on the body of the assassin Andros in Ravenmark. Furthermore, Berent had been the one to lead and guide the investigation. Could he have steered Caderyn like a puppet? Or was it all a mere coincidence?

"My duke," said one of the knights, snapping Caderyn back to the present.

He looked up with a jolt, realizing they were within only fifty paces of the keep's great gates. Knights loyal to the memory of a dead traitor stood guard along the parapets. The small garrison likely had enough supplies to last for months and the keep would prove quite costly to take with a direct assault.

Pelagia and another knight rode at Caderyn's side, each wielding a white flag.

"Who holds the command?" Caderyn asked.

One of the knights raised a hand and removed his helmet, revealing a young face framed by sweaty auburn hair.

"I do, my lord. I am Sir Mordren: distant kin to Baron Aelred, and I was appointed as his regent during his absence."

"And does the regency still persist despite Aelred's death?"

"You're not the first to try to sway us with lies, my lord. Sir Lambert's messengers have been pestering us with supposed news of Baron Aelred's death."

"And has he told you of Thandor's fall?"

Judging by the stricken glances that appeared on Mordren's face and those of his companions, it seemed that news had not yet reached them.

"I wouldn't be here myself if Thandor was still loose," said Caderyn. "He languishes within the dungeon of his own palace, alongside his barons and Sir Jehan. Aelred rots in his grave back in Jadewall. And his son Lucan..."

The mere mention of the boy named after Caderyn's own father sent a chill through him.

"What of young Lucan?" Mordren asked.

"Dead," said Caderyn.

"All the more reason for us to fight on to avenge him," the knight barked back.

Caderyn sighed and looked over his shoulder at the soldiers within the siege camp. Since his best troops had been necessary for the fighting in the south, most of the besiegers were peasants or lesser knights. Reinforcements would arrive over the coming days to bolster the besieging forces, but he still did not wish to see a single drop of blood spilled for the sake of a dead man's keep.

"Lucan was a brave lad, just like his namesake. His father sent him away before battle, but he rode back to try to help nonetheless. In the confusion of the retreat, he was cut down by one of Aelred's archers."

"Lies," Mordren snapped. "For all we know, you fed that poor brave boy to your northern cannibals."

"Appoint a party of emissaries, then," Caderyn said. "A dozen or so of your men can ride to Jadewall under escort, where they can talk with the prisoners who can attest to what happened. Some might even be able to show them to where young Lucan and Aelred were buried. If this is proven to you, would you yield? You would have nothing to fight for at that point."

Mordren scowled.

"And what stops us from being fed to your northern mercenaries?"

"The fact that you have held this keep for so long is a testament to your skill and honor. If you yield, your lives will be spared. Titles will be stripped away, of course, and it will be up to the discretion of the barons if any of you are allowed to serve them as knights, but I see no need for a mass slaughter. Not after we've already lost so much."

"And if we do not yield?"

"Then I'll order Sir Lambert to keep bombarding you for the next two weeks. By then, Girjar Bear-Bleeder and his mercenaries will have arrived. I'll send them forth so you can see for yourself if rumors of their cannibalism are well-founded."

The knights vanished from the parapets, no doubt discussing the offer amongst themselves.

"A wise plan, my lord," said Pelagia. "It is something your mother would have offered. Clever."

On account of his battlefield victories, several had compared Caderyn to his father, though he still found himself far short of his father's legacy. Until that moment, none had made any comparison to his mother. To his surprise, that brought a soft, warm little smile to his face.

After a few minutes, Mordren poked his head up again.

"We have your word, my lord?"

"I swear it on the blood of Duke Lucan...and on the boy who was named after him."

Once more the knight vanished from sight. There came a sudden shout from beyond the walls, then a scream. More cries soon rose, followed by the clashing of steel. Wagering that the garrison had turned upon itself during the debate over the offer, Caderyn hissed and ordered his escort to turn back.

Their horses trotted over rubble and debris, withdrawing to a few hundred paces away. Once in relative safety, they watched and waited. Minutes dragged on. A body toppled over the parapet and landed with a wet thud upon the dusty ground. A horn sounded, followed by a bell. Someone scurried along the battlements and vanished into the gatehouse.

Caderyn's hand coiled around his sword. The gate slowly creaked open.

Two dozen men in blue-and-gold cloaks stood beyond, their armor and weapons spattered with crimson. Foremost among them was Sir Mordren, blood leaking from a deep gash upon his chin. Crimson gore clung to his shattered sword. Beyond, Caderyn saw at least a dozen bodies scattered about within the courtyard.

Mordren staggered forward, leading the other survivors from the great keep.

Some lords might have been tempted to run the survivors down, then surge forth to seize the undefended fortress. Caderyn, however, kept to his word and allowed the traitors to approach.

"What happened?" Caderyn demanded.

"Two versions of honor, my lord. Two paths that can never meet." Mordren shrugged and sighed. "But it is done and we do not have the strength to hold now. But...I would still like to see the graves and confirm what happened."

Given that the knight had just overseen the butchery of men who had fought at his side for months, Caderyn held back his grin of triumph and instead gave a quick nod.

"So be it. Lay down your arms, my men will secure the keep, and then you will be given an escort to go confirm the truth."

Dozens of bloody weapons clattered to the ground. After a wave from Caderyn, Sir Lambert sent in a tide of soldiers. They swept through the gate and into the death-strewn courtyard, and Caderyn summoned healers to tend to Mordren and his men.

Caderyn regarded the survivors with cold and distant eyes. Months ago, he'd have relished the thought of flaying such traitorous knights alive. While the bloodshed in Jadewall had not softened his heart, it had made him want to avoid reckless and needless cruelty.

"I do have one question, though," said Caderyn. "Were any of you there the night that Aelred attacked my father's camp?"

None moved or spoke.

"This does not alter the agreement; my word still stands."

Every single man raised a hand. Some trembled or glanced away, while Mordren met Caderyn's gaze with a grim sort of pride.

"Did any of you see him fall?"

"Duke Caderyn," Pelagia said with a low growl. "You need not hear this. It is finished."

Caderyn ignored her and nodded at the prisoners.

"Well?"

"If you're after the man who put the arrow through your father's neck, he marched off with Aelred towards the river," said Mordren. "You likely got your vengeance already and just didn't know it."

Perhaps that man had been trampled to death during the chaotic retreat from Stonecurrent. Perhaps he'd been cut down by a howling northerner after stumbling about under the influence of that foul curse. Or he could have met his end at Aelred's side during the battle in the swamp.

Or he could still draw breath, running free across Jadewall or languishing in a dungeon.