by R. K. Thorne
That she could do.
And besides, it was damned cold in here.
The thudding of his door woke Thel, morning sunlight slanting sharply into his prison cell. Keys were clanging in the locks, bolts and gears turning, and he struggled to sit up. The rocks dug into his back, and he rubbed the cold, aching skin of his wrists.
Before he was even entirely awake, Alikar swept into the cell, followed by Detrax. Niat trudged in after them, wearing no manacles.
“You’re helping them now?” he grunted.
She gaze shifted, but only slightly, not rising above his knees. Her eyes were bleak as they drifted back down toward the floor. Her shoulders lifted in the weakest possible shrug. In spite of it all, he felt a little guilty for goading her. She might have been through the same hell as him or worse.
He ran a hand over his face, trying to shove off the grogginess of sleep. He was aching in half his joints, and the wound in his leg itched, likely infected, but none of that was as bad as the pounding in his head. His stomach let out a loud gurgle. That explained the headache, at least partly.
But… Niat was here. Could this be his chance? He glanced down at the manacles. If only he had some way to get them off. He’d need to convince them to take them off. Or could he crack the stone where the metal attached to the wall and simply drag the manacles with him? Last night’s plans hadn’t included Niat showing up in his cell.
Alikar stood in the center of the room, just before him, hands clasped behind his back, wearing his typical ostentatious cloak even here. Detrax hung back.
The Gilaren lord glared long and hard at Thel. Silence settled around them for a long moment before he spoke. “Detrax tells me he’s gotten what he needed from you. So that leaves you with two options.”
Thel didn’t like the sound of that or Alikar’s brisk tone. He took half his mind and started working into the cracks behind him, where his chains met the wall.
Alikar began pacing back and forth in front of him. “One option is that you agree to help us. Once we return to Kavanar, you can be branded like the rest, if you don’t earn our trust.”
So they did know he was a mage. The first piece of the wall was almost shattered. He shifted to the other side.
“You will help us with our takeover of Akaria,” Alikar continued. “And if you do so faithfully, without betrayal, I may choose to award you a minor lordship when everything is said and done.”
“How magnanimous of you.” Thel glared at him. As if he had ever cared for such a thing. He just wanted to be left alone in his library, by the gods.
“That is our offer. However, you must make a significant difference to our campaign.”
“Or our personal wealth,” Detrax growled behind him, making Alikar jump slightly.
“What’s the other option?”
“Your death. In a manner of Detrax’s choosing.” Alikar held out a hand in the creature mage’s direction, as if a servant offering him that option. “Oh, and I may let the mage have a few rounds with the priestess before you’re done. And you will watch, in case that sways your opinion.” Alikar’s eyes sparkled.
Thel scowled. Fool was so sure his victory was near. The second stone joint was not quite cracked, but close. Thel started on the outer wall. He needed to buy more time. “You really know how to offer a man a difficult decision,” he said as slowly as he could.
Alikar narrowed his eyes. “Your sarcasm will get you nowhere with me.”
“Really? Detrax seems to like it.”
And indeed, Alikar glanced over his shoulder to jump a little at Detrax’s feral grin. Then the lord shook his head and opened his mouth.
“Leave her out of this,” Thel said, cutting Alikar off. Just a little more time.
“We’re not bargaining. Cooperate, or you’ll both suffer.”
Thel caught Detrax’s eye now. “This is between you and me. Leave her out of this.”
Detrax shrugged. “Cooperate, and she won’t have to be involved.”
Thel’s eyes caught on Niat. Through all this, she ignored them, bleak eyes trained on the rugged floor. Thel turned his scowl on Alikar. “You’re even more vile than I could have imagined. Isn’t she supposed to be your wife? And you’d use her like—”
“Oh, he has no plans to marry her,” Detrax said, grinning darkly. “As if the lady of Gilaren would put up with that.”
“What? I never said that,” Alikar said indignantly.
Detrax grinned. “’Course, don’t want to be near Lord Sven when he finds out he’s been swindled.”
“Lies,” spat Alikar. “Not surprising from a mage.”
Thel laughed outright. “It’s really best not to lie to people who can read your mind, you know.”
The four-armed mage guffawed and slapped his leg, even as the color drained from Alikar’s face. Had he not realized such a thing was possible? Still, a chill ran through Thel as his mind raced to adjust his plans. He had another obstacle—Detrax. Whatever he had done to thrust Thel into darkness, he could do again. And quickly. Thel couldn’t very well escape, and with Niat, if his mind was locked in a prison of eternal, shapeless night. Detrax would have to be dealt with. Somehow.
He glanced at Detrax nervously, realizing the mage could be reading his thoughts even now. But no. His grinning gaze was locked on Alikar, who’d stiffened noticeably. They were probably sharing some kind of silent exchange.
Thel focused quickly on the wall while they were distracted, thrusting the crack deeper, almost to its breaking point.
Alikar spun back to face Thel. “Enough. None of this matters. Your choice?”
He rose slowly to his feet. “It’s not really much of a choice, is it?”
“Ah, good.” Alikar smiled tentatively, looking relieved, and took a step forward. “I’m glad you’re going to be practical about this.”
Thel shrugged. “I’ll be glad not to die. Nor should the priestess be harmed.” However, the shrug was just the slight twitch that the wall needed. Tiny cracking sounds emanated from the end of the heavy chain. Damn, not yet—
The hunk of rock that he’d been severing from the wall broke free and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
“What the—” Alikar started.
Thel seized the rocks of the outer wall and ripped them apart, hurtling them inward and around. He had one chance at this. He aimed the wave of stone and mortar directly at Detrax.
The beast mage let out a shout, his hands rising to defend himself even as he vanished under the rubble Thel hurled in his direction. He had been planning to use those to help them get down, but Detrax needed to be out cold. That didn’t leave him with many options.
A cry from Niat sent a jolt through him. He searched for her among the dust. She was stumbling back from the moving rock in shock, Alikar right with her. Good, he hadn’t hit her unintentionally.
The distraction caused a handful of stones to fall out of Thel’s control, crash to the ground, and roll forward. The stones collided with the cell door’s bars, embedding them right into the far wall. They weren’t leaving the cell that way now, for better or worse. Niat had to jump a foot to the side just for it to miss her boots. Generous of them to replace her sandals. That’d be handy in the snow.
Thel let go of the stones in the corner where he’d last seen Detrax. Underneath them, the stones heaved slightly. Was that just his imagination or could Detrax actually be conscious under there, trying to get out?
He had thrust the pile of stones as hard as he could in the mage’s direction, and now he picked up the loose outer ones and crashed them against the mountain of rock one more time, right where it had moved.
He waited. He watched for the rocks to lurch, twitch, anything. Was that a grunt or something outside? Was that blood on the floor, or had that dark puddle been there all along? Another heartbeat. Another.
Nothing happened.
What was he waiting for, a hand-painted sign from the gods? He ripped the other anchor out of the wall, then twisted his hands around th
e chains, gripping them. Hey, if he couldn’t lose them, he’d make a weapon out of them. He’d just have to hope they weren’t too heavy. Pure strength had never been his strong suit.
Thel lifted his burdens and barely took two steps toward the gash before Alikar started forward. Thel didn’t hesitate. He reared his arm back and then swung the head-sized chunk of rock at Alikar’s knees. His head would have been better, but Thel didn’t think he was lifting these much higher, he wasn’t the type for that—
Hey, Alikar’s balls weren’t very high either, and Thel wouldn’t shed one tear if he managed to hit them. The young lord danced back, losing his grip on his sword. It clattered to the ground. Thel stepped toward him, rearing back for another swing, and Alikar staggered back farther, his eyes locked in horror on his lost sword.
Thel stepped forward, pinning the blade to the ground. He stared down at the hilt. He could end it all here. Alikar was guilty of treason, kidnapping, threatening to murder Thel himself, and much worse. He could gut Alikar with this sword; he could pummel the man to death with the stone.
A ragged breath to his left drew his attention. Niat had sunk into a ball against the cell door, shaking. Thel glanced back at Alikar, then at her.
The hell with this.
He grabbed Niat’s arm and hauled her to her feet, dragging her after him to the precipice. Yes, as he’d calculated—three stories down. They weren’t getting down without help.
Thel tore the next piece of the wall apart and away from the building. He carefully brought it down in front of them—a platform. Oh, of course. He might not be able to heft both of the boulders still tethered to his arms with his muscles, but with his magic he certainly could. How could he be so dense. They rose up in the air like birds following them, chained to his wrists and hovering near his shoulders.
Alikar staggered to his feet. The platform faltered, bobbing slightly, but didn’t disintegrate.
“What are you doing?” Niat said, her voice fragile and thin as a fine dish reaching its breaking point.
“I’m getting us out of here.”
And then he jumped, pulling her with him.
Niat shrieked as they sang through the air, and he hoped the small boulders didn’t hit her. But he wasn’t leaving her with Alikar or Detrax, even if her fear of his magic made her think he was just as bad as them. He knew he wasn’t.
He and Niat might starve to death. But they’d be free, and no harm would come to her from him.
The mage was dragging her off the platform of rock now, his grip like iron on her forearm. Niat could barely see, the world swam so much. She crushed a slight swell of hope in her heart that this might be a true escape. Didn’t she know better by now than to hope? Even if they succeeded, the mage couldn’t truly be what he seemed. Oh, he seemed kind, but she couldn’t let herself believe it. She’d escape this place, maybe, but it’d only be to some new, fresh hell.
Maybe Detrax’s soldiers would shoot them, and she could just die, and this could all be over.
But of course, that didn’t happen. She didn’t follow just what happened exactly. He dragged her down into a stairwell, burst through a door, and they were running past bunks, the rooms dark around them.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“Away from here!” was all he responded.
“How do you know where to go?”
“I can feel the earth leading out of here—got to keep away from the arrows!” he shouted.
“The earth?”
“We’re underground, did you miss that?”
“So you don’t know where you’re going?” she snapped.
“I kind of do. But hey, neither do you!”
She shut her mouth; he had a point at that. Her dizziness was clearing, and something caught in her peripheral vision. She turned. “What the hell is that?”
“A piece of the wall.”
“Why is it floating by my head?”
“So I don’t have to carry it! You chose an odd time to ask a lot of questions. And there are two, so watch out.”
He still had an iron grip on her forearm, and it was starting to ache, but she didn’t try to wring herself free. The dizziness could come back at any time.
Did he actually think this would work and not just get them both killed? Optimistic fool.
And yet, she let him drag her on, ducking through yet another basement barracks, around some crates, and up another stairwell. They resurfaced just before the main gate.
Soldiers readied bows and crossbows at the gate. He faltered for a second, skidding to a stop before looking back over his shoulder.
She glanced back now too. Alikar was not far off, in pursuit. She was mildly surprised he cared to run and not just send others to do his dirty work, but there had been other pursuers they’d lost. Maybe he was just the best at tracking them. Or the luckiest.
She reached for the pouch at her belt, some of the few belongings they’d returned to her.
But before she could find the tin in her pouch, she discovered the real reason why Thel had spun to look behind them. The rocks that had once made up their platform soared over their heads and crashed into the gate, their momentum rolling them farther so that each took down more than just one man. Niat gasped and covered her mouth without thinking. Then she snatched it away, concealing the emotion behind her usual mask.
With just three or four boulders, the mage had cleared the gate. All of those who’d been preparing to kill them were dead.
He dragged her forward again, and she ran now with him as fast as her feet could move her. If he’d killed those people to get them free, she’d not worsen their deaths by spiting him, or making them meaningless. That was not hope kindling in her chest. She did not hope.
Hope was a fatal flaw. Hope would get her killed. Hope would get dashed when seemingly kind and valiant men proved their true mettle. It was inevitable.
“Miara, this is Priestess Gerana, High Priestess of Nefrana, Elii Temple. Priestess, this is my betrothed, Arms Master Miara Floren.”
Miara bowed her head and slightly at the waist too. How deeply was appropriate was entirely unclear at this point. Those were a lot of fancy titles Aven was dishing out. Her blood pounded in her ears. Elise would probably tell her to act like the queen, even without the informal title, but the last thing she needed was to give a priestess of Nefrana one more reason to not support them.
“A blessing to meet you, Arms Master. And betrothed? Congratulations.” The woman’s voice held a tint of disapproval, but her eyes darted to the emerald and then up to Miara’s face.
“Yes,” Aven countered. “We haven’t had time with the king’s sickness and a few other issues—and the war on top of that—to celebrate the matter formally. But in due time, we will. We all thought it best the arrangement be formalized, however, with the rest of the chaos.” Ah, it was only the lack of due ceremony she objected to, not the betrothal itself, Miara hoped.
We all thought? she whispered into his head, laughing silently. Did you actually consult anybody?
The corner of his mouth twitched up in a very slight smile. I decided you agreed with the proposition when you were kissing me earlier.
A fair assumption.
“And how is His Highness Samul?” the priestess said smoothly.
Aven looked to Miara. She swallowed her nerves. “No better, I’m afraid. We are searching for medicines, but it is a long process, requiring time we may not have.”
The priestess frowned, eying Aven sideways. “You are charged with his care? I hate to point it out, but it would seem to your benefit if he did not improve.”
Miara gritted her teeth. “Ranok’s healer is charged with his care. I am simply assisting him and Queen Elise.”
“Miara has spent most of her life as a healer,” Aven cut in. “And she also rescued my father from a Kavanarian ambush only two days ago, for which he granted her her title. Her loyalty to the Lanuken family runs deep and has been proven time and again.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said the priestess, but Miara was hardly sure of the truth of that. “I don’t mean to monopolize you, sire. I see others waiting to greet you. But I do have more questions. Given your confidence in the arms master’s loyalty, perhaps she could accompany me for a walk around the grounds? It’s growing icy in here. Some walking would do our blood good, don’t you think?” She smiled at Miara, a vague expression that brought little warmth to her face.
Aven looked to her for approval, eyebrow raised.
Is this a trap? she spoke into his mind again.
Perhaps a social one, but she’ll have words for you one way or another, now or in the future. Your preference when to spring it.
Miara smiled as warmly as she could muster at the woman. “Agreed, it would. If you don’t mind my brief absence, my lord?” Miara said, with a slight emphasis on ‘brief.’
Aven nodded. “I’m sure others will want to meet you, but a few minutes couldn’t hurt.”
The priestess headed for the hall, and Miara fell in step beside her.
“You know, many of us thought that young man might never marry,” Gerana said, a touch sentimental.
Miara groped for a response. “I have heard he had many suitors,” she replied woodenly.
“I can’t imagine what you must have done to capture his interest.”
Miara almost laughed. Capture was exactly right. But it hardly seemed prudent to point that out just now. She only smiled to herself.
“What were you seeking when the two of you became acquainted? How do a healer and a prince cross paths? Was he grievously injured and we didn’t hear of it?”
Miara took a deep breath. No avoiding this conversation, was there? She should have rehearsed something. “I spent much of my life as a healer, but I am not only that.”
“And what else have you been?” Gerana’s voice was patient, as if to say, she could play games like this all day and all night too, if Miara insisted.
