by D P Rowell
The Emerson Chronicles
Book Two
Copyright © 2018 by Daniel Rowell
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher
First published in the USA in August 2019
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments or events, is entirely coincidental.
1st edition
Claire and James. Your feedback and encouragement has helped me craft these books from drafts to stories. Thank you.
CHAPTER ONE
Trilo Mirage
Darkness enveloped Ace and a cold sank to his bones. The stone wall behind him chafed his spine as he brought his knees to his chin, arms wrapped over his shins. His jaw chattered. He buried his head in his arms. He spent the next few minutes soaking in the silence. He wished the witches still occupied the cellar. He preferred them to the hollow cage bringing him face to face with his failure. The loneliness told of his own mistakes. The Peppercorns were in the hands of a dangerous parcel, Cameron may still be in danger, and the Emerson Stone was lost. He clenched his fist with what little strength he had and grit his teeth. He looked at the bars sealing him in, coated in anti-magic. The council had him trapped. Keele had every person in Gathara convinced he was a sorcerer.
And Rio . . .
It was all the drake’s doing. How could he have missed it? How could he have not seen it coming? Why else would the drake have asked
for the Emerson Stone during a battle in Gathara? His stomach clenched in a painful knot. He wrapped his arms around it and gave a slight moan. Had Rio been planning this the whole time? Even from . . . the fire. His face grew long at the thought of it. Of course, the drake told him to his face and he still didn’t see it. He told him, the night they were in the hovercraft from Oola to Heorg, witches and parcels have different types of powers, and some of them can make the wind, rain, and fire obey their spells. Grandpa didn’t randomly disappear, Rio did it! The drake was conveniently standing in the door after all of it happened, of course he did it.
The light patter of footsteps jolted Ace upright. He looked at the ceiling and a water droplet fell on the bridge of his nose. He flinched and wiped it away. He wondered if he’d just mistaken the usual moaning of the rusty pipes for footsteps. More dripping echoed in the cellar. It prompted Ace to lick his lips. It was like licking chalk. He swallowed and the dry parts of the skin in his throat peeled apart. He sat straight, and the rocky wall surface irritated his spine. The footsteps sounded again, and he looked back to the ceiling. This time they continued, and Ace followed the sound with his eyes. Two . . . no, just one person. Couldn’t have been meal time. It seemed like it had only been a couple of hours after the morning meal. He scratched his head and tried to remember what it was like to experience events in real time. The lack of sun and two meals a day had rid his mind of any original concept of time. The footsteps grew louder, echoing from the top of the winding staircase. He crawled to the anti-magic bars. The rough ground scratched his knees raw. Once he reached the bars he sat straight and watched for whoever was coming to visit him.
The fae stepped from around the winding staircase in his usual hunting get up. Black jeans, long black-sleeve shirt and ammo vest. An AMB holstered on his right and an AMR strapped behind his back. Ace scrunched his face with anger. Had it already been four days? Either his concept of time became distorted more every day, or they had switched up the rotation. The fae with the scars on his face held a metal tray of stew and a loaf of bread. They eyed each other silently a moment. Ace’s eyes went dark and cold. Whenever Trilo’s rotation came, the tension was always evident. The scarred fae slowly set the tray of food down before the bars. For a moment, they stared at each other through the electric anti-magic orange, inches away from each other’s faces.
Ace broke the silence, “How could you do this, Trilo?” he whispered softly. It was barely audible through his dried throat. “You witnessed me save you from those witches with the elyr. You know I’m not a parcel.”
Trilo’s eyes hung low and he shook his head. “I can’t believe I fell for your deception.” He lifted his eyes and returned Ace’s dark stare. “I won’t fall for it again.”
“You have,” Ace croaked. “Just not mine.”
Trilo grinded his teeth. He reached behind, pulled free his AMR, and aimed it Ace, “Make any moves I don’t like, and I promise you’ll regret it.”
Ace chuckled. “Why not flip the switch from anti-magic to plasma, Trilo? If I’m such a dangerous parcel, why keep me alive in this cellar?” Ace squinted, “It’s been weeks, fae. If the Indies actually suspected me I’d be dead.”
Trilo shook his head. “You know exactly why we’re keeping you alive, sorcerer.”
Ace nodded. “Fear.”
Trilo grunted angrily. He stepped back, released one hand from his rifle and pressed it against the chrome plate. The anti-magic fled from the bars and the bars lifted into the ceiling. Ace stared at the fae free of any obstacles. Trilo eyed him with perfect aim and determination. Ace shook his head and slowly crawled forward. He grabbed the tray of food and drug it back into the cellar. Trilo pressed his hand against the chrome plate once more. The bars came back down, and the anti-magic returned.
“Make sure you enjoy each meal,” Trilo said, “you never know which one will be your last.” He turned and started his walk back up the stairs.
“Trilo,” Ace said. The fae stopped but didn’t turn around. “Make sure to turn the safety off your blaster rifle next time. You never know which mistake will be your last.” The fae glanced at his rifle. He half turned his head back. Ace curled the edge of his mouth up in a wicked smile. Trilo furrowed his brow, grunted furiously and stomped his way back up the winding staircase.
Ace sat just behind the bars of the cellar as the sound of his feet faded into the hall above him. He closed his eyes and breathed timidly. He reminded himself the loneliness had returned. His brief encounter with the fae was the last physical interaction he’d have in a while. He looked around the cellar to find his usual spot. He picked up his tray and slid his way there. He leaned his back against the wall and lifted his knees. This way the cameras in the cellar couldn’t see his tray of food. He looked all around until the silence was long enough, so he felt safe. He stared at his meal, picked up the rusty spoon, scooped a bit of the red goop up and brought it to his lips. Ice cold as usual. He tapped the bread against the tray. Hard as a rock. He turned the bread a few times to make sure he bit in the right spot. Once he found it, he sunk his teeth in and the sound of the following crunch bounced off the walls and echoed in the cellar. He kept chewing the stale bread, holding the newly bitten loaf behind his knees, so the cameras couldn’t see. He stuck his finger in the bite where he saw a slit. He felt the stiff piece he was looking for and pulled it from the loaf. A crumpled-up piece of paper. He unraveled it quickly and discreetly and placed it on the tray as he ate his food. The letter was written in perfect fae. He translated it accordingly:
“Your brother is with your fae friend as per your request in the surrounding mountains. Still no contact with Rio. The elite are starting to wonder where he’s gone and are becoming worried. This should work to our advantage. The plan is still in motion. Be prepared the next time it’s my rotation to bring your meal. That’s when we’re planning on executing. If what you’ve told us is true, this should persuade the Indies. No one suspects a thing. Especially not the witch. We’re
almost there, Ace. Hang in there.”
Ace took another bite of his crunchy bread and a sip of his stew. His face plain and expressionless so as not to let the cameras know he had just learned great news. But inside, behind the exhausting chewing motions, his heart leapt.
CHAPTER TWO
Midweek
Ace startled awake from a deep sleep to the sound of the anti-magic bars shooting open. He had been dreaming of the Peppercorns. The sight of the cellar bars lifting opened took a few minutes to seem real. He couldn’t tell if he’d still been dreaming or if the bars had woken him. The grogginess slowly faded, and he saw all the elite standing outside the bars. Save for the green drake. George, Ihana, and Keele held their AMRs aimed at him and Sebastian stood eyeing him full of fury.
Ace scooched back against the wall and chuckled. “Is it Midweek already?”
Sebastian quietly stepped into the cellar. His foot splashed some of the small puddles with each step forward. Ace wiped his hands over his face to shake the grogginess. It didn’t work. When his hands slid off his cheeks, Sebastian had already kneeled face to face with him.
“How long are you gonna play this game?” Sebastian said.
Ace didn’t say anything.
Sebastian huffed mockingly, and the corner of his mouth curled into a grin. “If you’re not going to help us, there’s no point in keeping you around.”
Ace stared into the elite’s eyes wordlessly, no expression on his face.
Sebastian sighed. “Enough of this, it’s worth the risk.” He grabbed Ace’s shirt and pulled him up. Ace grabbed onto the pale man’s arm tightly so as to not be yanked up by his shirt alone. He leaned on Sebastian to prevent falling. Sebastian dragged him to the end of the cellar and threw him down before the other elite.
Sebastian said, “Switch to plasma.”
Ace’s eyes shot wide open and he looked up to the tall elite. “What are you doing?”
Sebastian shrugged. “You’ve left me no choice.”
Ace turned to face the elite. George and Ihana were giving Sebastian eyes of uncertainty, but Keele already had her AMR switched and aimed at him. He and the witch caught eyes a moment. Her smile so wide her teeth and gums were wholly visible. The hairs on his neck went rigid. He almost smelled her witchcraft from where he stood. She smelled like he imaged the color black should smell. Her eyes dark and victorious.
She began to speak in his thoughts, to defy the council . . .
Ace turned to Sebastian. “Do this and my brother will wreak havoc on your city.”
Sebastian let out his hand and the elite lowered their weapons. Keele’s face went sour and limp. She was hesitant, but she lowered her weapon for the sake of keeping her cover. Sebastian reached down, grabbed Ace and pinned him to the wall.
“What then? Where is he? What’s his plan? Tell me now, parcel!”
Ace grappled with Sebastian’s wrists. “Release me,” his voice crackled a little more, “and we will leave this city and never return.”
“We don’t negotiate with sorcerers,” George said. The dark elite had pulled his AMR out and had it aimed at him.
“Why keep me then?” Ace said, “Why—” he coughed, “why keep me alive?”
Sebastian’s face scrunched with anger. It spoke of his conflict. Destroy the parcel and risk the people of Gathara, his city? Or release him and give up the parcel? Ace squinted, noticing something different in the pale elite’s eyes this time. It glimmered with question. The tall man’s eyes glossed over, but not with tears. With . . . something else. A new concern? Ace recalled the day Keele had him captured. He had seen this look in his eyes then as well.
Ace took a guess at what it might be. “Where’s your drake friend?”
George thrust the AMR directly into Ace’s neck without hesitation. “He mocks us, Sebastian! We ought not keep a dangerous member of the council alive anymore.” With each word he dug the rifle deeper into Ace’s neck. The boy gagged a few times and he felt the room spin as the blood was cut off from his head. Sebastian took one hand and lowered George’s rifle.
“My fellow hunter makes a good point,” Sebastian said.
Keele stepped forth. She spoke up, as Ace had anticipated, “I don’t think his brother is anywhere near here,” she said. “He’s bluffing.”
“You’re the one bluffing,” Ace said to Keele. He turned to face Sebastian, finding the same glimmer remaining in his eyes, “She and your drake friend are working together. If you release me, you’ll see. He’s not coming back, Sebastian. He’s got what he wanted, and he’s left the Indies.”
Ihana, who had remained silent, grunted and nearly yelled, “Get it over with, Sebastian don’t let this little sorcerer deceive you.”
Ace coughed a couple times and propped himself up further using Sebastian’s wrists for leverage. “Sebastian. Look at me.” Ace wanted to say more but became nervous of what Keele might hear and tell Rio. Who knew what the drake’s plan was? Perhaps his plan was to keep the elite distracted with Ace while he pursued something more evil. Maybe his plan was to destroy Ace. Whatever it was, if Ace didn’t find a way out soon, the frog man would have ample time to execute it.
Sebastian grunted loudly. He chucked Ace into the cellar with hardly any effort. Ace smacked against the ground and the sharp rocks dug into his skin. Before he could help himself up, the bars were shut and covered in anti-magic once again. The pale elite had turned to face his crew.
“Send your hunters into every nook and cranny of Gathara. Then every surrounding town in the mountains. Alert all our bases at once. We’re looking for Cameron and Rio.” The tan elite turned back to face Ace. “One week. If we don’t find either of them, he’s done.”
“You won’t find them,” Ace said.
Keele stepped close to Sebastian. She whispered, but the echoing cellar carried her every word, “This is ridiculous, Sebastian. He’s far too dangerous. He’s messing with our h—”
“When you’re the Halder, then you can call the shots.”
Keele shot him a dark stare for a moment, then stomped away. The rest of the elite followed. Sebastian began walking up the stairs.
“Sebastian!” Ace somehow found the strength to yell. The elite stopped halfway up the stairs but didn’t turn around. “I remember—” Ace coughed and smacked his dry lips. “I remember what you said when Keele captured me. She told me I was too dangerous to be kept alive and you said you had a special punishment planned for me. Did you really? Or were you just buying time? . . . Like you are now.”
The following moments were still and quiet. The pipes didn’t creak. Water didn’t drop to the floor. No footsteps sounded above of hunters going about their day. Sebastian remained on the stairs without turning his head.
Ace sat straight and finally broke the silence. “You know I’m innocent, don’t you?”
Sebastian said nothing. Instead, he continued walking up the stairs. His steps echoed through the cellar and slowly faded into the quiet again. This time, the quiet brought a familiar loneliness. The same quiet telling of Ace’s failures. The quiet he would soon be rid of, should the scarred fae execute the plan accordingly.
CHAPTER THREE
Last Meal
The following days came with solitude, yet free of the loneliness Ace had grown accustomed to. The isolation had become less difficult to bear. He had noticed a significant change in his mood and health as well. His mouth had grown less sticky, his skin had callused in most parts, making the jagged rocks easier to crawl on, his voice no longer croaked, and he slept less. His distorted sense of time remained unaltered, but his newly found strength encouraged him to create a system to help. He’d only just started tallying on the walls with a rock he’d found on the ground. Just above each mark he had a name written. Keele, Grond, Laren, and Trilo. Save for Keele, they were hunters moving up in the ranks, assigned to give Ace meals as a test to see how they responded around parcels. See if they were ready for the real world of hunting. Ace didn’t know this t
o be certain—his new health had allowed his brain to think more critically—but he assumed Keele was in the rotation as per her own request, to keep tabs on him. He knew she wanted to return the information to Rio. He wasn’t sure how she persuaded the elite to let her in.
Ace’s heart tanked. He crawled over to the tally marks and saw something he hadn’t anticipated. His days had been so far off. Laren was the last to bring his meals. He thought back to the letter he received from Trilo last he brought the meals. Today was the day. The day he’d be freed from this prison and have a chance to turn the tide. Ace swallowed and rubbed his palms together. He thanked Emery for the renewed strength just when he needed it most.
Emery, Ace thought. He looked around the hollow cellar and listened to the sounds above. The footsteps of hunters going about their days plotted along the ceiling. All seemed normal, it wasn’t time yet. If there was anything he needed then, it was the Light’s guidance. Ace closed his eyes and sat with his legs folded before the bar doors. He focused on his breathing. He smiled as the thought of Kareena and Cameron, safely stowed away in the Heorg's desert mountains, passed through his mind. Except, not any more. Today, they’d be coming to the city, ready to execute their plan. What if they were caught? Sebastian had just sent an army of hunters looking for them. They hadn’t prepared for such an obstacle. Ace felt his heart rate increase. The Light appeared on the tips of his fingers and he opened his eyes and shooed it away. He glanced back over at the cameras. Had he just ruined the plan? If they saw him practicing the elyr in the cell they’d rush down there and stop it. Ace gulped and sweat trickled along his cheeks. How long would he have to wait for Trilo? How long had it been since the day had begun? Perhaps it hadn’t begun. Ace could’ve simply been awake in the middle of the night with no sun to tell him of . . .
