She turned toward the horses as they slowed and the lead rider commanded, “Stay where you are or you die!”
Brandt shook his head, knowing this was the end. He could barely move, so flight was out of the question. Without the use of his magic and him incapacitated, there was little hope of fighting them. In the distance, another force emerged – hundreds of Imperial cavalry who would reach their location in mere minutes.
He croaked, “We must surrender.”
Quinn glared down at him, her eyes gray like steel. “Never.”
With an effort, he put his arm about her waist and used her to keep himself from falling over. “Please, Quinn. If we surrender, we might live to fight another day. Don’t die for nothing.” He gazed up at her, pleading. “Please, I don’t want to lose you.”
The riders stopped and half dismounted. Four of those still on horseback held arrows nocked, ready, and aimed at Brandt and Quinn. The approaching men drew swords, all save for their leader.
“Why did you betray me, Quinn?” Iko asked.
“You fight for the wrong side, Iko.” If Quinn’s gaze was steely before, it was molten hot iron now. “I am trying to save lives. The Empire is trying to destroy them.”
Iko set his jaw and glared back at her, not flinching or backing down. After a moment, his gaze shifted further west, toward the destroyed road.
“What have you done?”
“I told you. I am trying to save lives. If the army marching from Yarth cannot reach the battle, they cannot die.”
Iko’s frown deepened. “Please. You don’t care about the lives of Imperial soldiers. You only care about your precious kingdoms and the use of Chaos.”
Quinn shook her head. “I am saddened you believe that, Iko. I thought you knew me better than that. Regardless of where they live, all people have hopes and dreams and wish to live long, fruitful lives. Why would I want anyone dead just because of the armor they wear or because of their beliefs? There is room enough in Issalia for us all to live as we like so long as we don’t prey on others.”
She stepped forward, and Brandt fell onto his hands.
Quinn poked Iko in the chest. Hard. “Regardless of what you believe, the kingdoms of Issalia experienced years of peace and prosperity before the Empire came along. You and your Empire are like bullies who did not get their way, using flash powder to threaten, burn, and destroy until others think and live the way you believe is best. Who made your mother God, Iko? Why does she get to dictate how we are to live?”
Iko stared at Quinn the entire time, his face a scowl, his jaw trembling. Finally, he turned away.
“Bind their wrists. Gag them so I don’t have to hear any more of this nonsense.”
The men approached with rope and strips of cloth, a few still pointing swords at Quinn and Brandt. Iko climbed on his horse and stared at Quinn, his anger gone, replaced by quiet contemplation.
She did it, Brandt thought as two men hauled him to his feet and began tying his wrists behind his back. She planted a seed a doubt in his mind. If only we knew how to make it grow.
25
Journey
Gorgant slowed to a stop and snorted, the horse sending a puff of swirling steam into the chill air. The village of Sarville waited just ahead.
Curan’s memories of his first visit to the small mountain village a season ago remained fresh. Though he longed for a warm room and a soft bed, he decided to ride through town and camp somewhere beyond it.
A nudge sent Gorgant into a trot along the snow-covered road. A snowstorm had passed through earlier in the day, slowing his progress with a blanket of fresh powder covering everything, the snow depth ranging from a few inches to over three feet deep where the drifts gathered.
Smoke rose from the chimneys in Sarville, spilling out and drifting to the east. As he passed through town, Curan came across only three people, none of whom paid him any attention. Soon, he passed the last inn, and the road continued north amidst snow-covered pines. As he rode, Curan cast his mind back on the past few days.
The first part of his journey from Kantar had been uneventful, and he was thankful for it. His trek began with a long, arduous day through the Brimstone Mountains. He had pushed Gorgant hard to make it to Fenrick’s Crossing to take advantage of the pleasant weather, fearing what the lingering winter might bring. The village also offered the benefit of shelter for him and the horse for a night.
Rising early the following day, he pushed Gorgant until they made it across the Malloram desert. Although the desert could be dangerously hot in the summer, winter was milder, with moderate days and cold nights.
The ground rose as he entered the Skyspike Mountains. That’s when the storm struck, forcing him and Gorgant to hide in a narrow cleft in the mountain pass. He waited all night and well into the next day, while snow fell and the wind whistled through the pass. It was midday before the blizzard finally passed, the snowfall stopped, and the wind settled to normal levels. The resulting drifts and poor footing forced him to travel at a slow walk, sometimes while riding Gorgant and other times leading the horse on foot. It wasn’t until he reached the valley floor that he felt comfortable to ride at a trot.
Gorgant rounded a bend, and the horse slowed as he came across a particularly deep drift. An odd sound came from ahead, causing Curan to frown. Curan stopped the horse and sought the source of the noise.
Something moved beyond the snowy pines. Something big. It drew closer, rounding the bend in the road and rolling into sight.
It was an imposing machine, vaguely resembling a steam carriage. However, no steam rose from it, and the machine was much bulkier than a carriage. A metal wedge at the front of the vehicle cut a path through the snow, pushing it aside and creating a bank on each side of the road. The machine had three sets of wheels and something mounted on the back.
Curan urged Gorgant to the side of the road, not wishing to get run over by the approaching behemoth. As it drew even with him, the machine came to a stop. The door opened and someone in a wool cloak stuck a head out.
“Curan? What are you doing out here?”
He recognized the girl’s voice just before she lowered her hood. “Greetings, Cassie. I am returning to the Ward.”
“You are supposed to be in Kantar, protecting my mother.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “I was, but she sent me away.”
“She is well, then?”
“Yes. Of course.” He frowned at the machine. “What is this thing?”
Everson peeked from behind Cassie. “This is a weapon, Curan.”
Curan then noticed the multi-armed catapult on the back of the vehicle. He had heard of Everson’s brilliance during his brief stay at the Ward. The machine was surely one of his creations.
“Where are you going?” Curan asked.
Cassie glanced at Everson, who nodded. She then turned to Curan. “War is coming, and we head south to join the fight.”
The news was not surprising. Even before becoming a warden, Curan had known war was likely. His gaze shifted north as he considered his plan to return to the Ward. Other than continuing his training, he could accomplish nothing from within the building. His decision was easy.
Curan looked back at them. “I am coming with you.”
“We will be happy to have you with us,” Cassie said.
Curan rode at a trot, following the trail left by Colossus. Only two or three inches of snow remained after the big machine plowed through the deep drifts, making the journey far easier than it had been earlier. The cloudy sky darkened further, and it soon became difficult to see anything beyond a hundred feet away. Colossus turned from the road and entered a small snow-covered grove before stopping. Gorgant settled beside the machine as Cassie climbed out. Everson and Ivy followed, the three of them tromping through the deep snow as they circled the machine.
“Where are you going?” Curan asked.
Everson stopped and turned toward him. “It’s cold, even inside this thing. We plan to build a fire
and warm up a bit.”
Curan frowned in confusion. Rather than ask additional questions, he climbed off the horse and followed. When he rounded Colossus, he found Cassie nearing a boulder thirty feet away from the machine. She traced a symbol on the rock and returned to join Everson and Ivy, who stood huddled in their cloaks beside Colossus.
Moments later, Cassie’s eyes opened, her irises flaring bright red in the purple light of dusk. The rune on the rock bloomed with light, pulsed, faded, and the rock burst into white flames. The heat hit Curan in a wave, the fire burning fifteen feet high and rapidly melting everything in the surrounding area.
“That is useful,” Curan noted.
Cassie laughed.
The heat from the burning rock soon thawed the chill that had settled deep inside Curan. As the snow in the area melted, steam rose while fallen branches and trunks emerged from the blanket of white that had been covering them. By the time the fire began to die down, nightfall had darkened the forest around them. They gathered wood scraps and tossed them toward the burning rock, starting a fire that would continue well after the augmentation failed. Everson emerged from Colossus with an arm full of food and began to hand it out to everyone.
A downed tree too big to move became a bench where they sat while eating. Curan shared news of his stay in Kantar, including Filbert’s failed coup. Of course, Cassie asked many questions, and he reassured Cassie of her mother’s safety, particularly after weeding through the guards with the Truth rune.
Cassie, Ivy, and Everson then shared events from the Ward in addition to the information passed to them through Cassie’s brother. The news painted a clear picture: War was coming, and it would hit soon.
Cassie froze. Curan turned to Everson and Ivy with a cocked brow.
“It must be Brandt,” Everson said in a hushed voice. “Wait and see what she has to say.”
They waited a bit, while concern reflected in Cassie’s eyes. Finally, she looked at Everson and said, “My brother and your sister are in trouble.”
Everson’s eyes filled with alarm. “What happened?”
“They used a combination of Chaos magic and flash bombs to collapse a portion of the cliffs south of Hipoint. The result left the road impassible and trapped the bulk of the Imperial army on the other side, unable to advance.”
“How is that trouble?” Everson said. “It sounds like an ingenious plan and an extreme stroke of luck.”
“True,” Cassie said, her tone shifting toward sadness. “However, they were captured in the process. It sounds like the Archon’s son is holding them hostage. They are returning to Sol Polis to be tried and executed as traitors.”
26
Madness
Rena was cold. Everything was cold.
When snowflakes found their way inside her hood and melted on her neck, she pulled her cloak together, gripping it at the front. She and her companions slogged through the fresh snow, her mind as numb as her toes and fingers. The world was going mad. She feared the madness, felt its tentacles slithering around her, searching for a way to burrow inside. She was weary from holding the madness at bay.
With each step, her footsteps fell into the tracks left by Nalah. She had tried to follow Bilchard, but his strides were longer and required too much effort. Kirk’s footsteps were worse, sometimes longer strides, sometimes shorter, often weaving, always erratic. Nalah paused and Rena ran into her. Rena shook her head in an attempt to clear the haze.
“Finally,” Kirk muttered. “I was wondering if we would ever reach the Ward.”
Through the haze of falling snow, the dark silhouette of the tower loomed ahead, just beyond FAME academy. A blanket of white covered the buildings and surrounding grounds, smothering them, holding them captive. To Rena, it seemed as if winter had claimed the land for all eternity.
They resumed their journey and Rena’s mind slipped back into oblivion, not resurfacing until she was inside the Ward. The others stomped their boots and shook snow from their cloaks. Rena did the same. It seemed like the thing to do.
“I am looking forward to a hot meal,” Bilchard said.
“You are always looking forward to a meal,” Kirk retorted. “I remain shocked that we were able to talk you out of stopping in Fallbrandt.”
Nalah snickered at the comment while Bilchard shrugged.
“Before we eat, we had best report.” Kirk said as he began up the stairs.
The others followed with Rena trailing. Kirk knocked on the Briefing Room door and entered when bid to do so. Again, Rena was last, entering the dimly lit room where Masters Firellus, Nindlerod, and Hedgewick waited at the table.
“I’m glad you returned safely,” Hedgewick said. “Where’s Kwai-Lan?”
Kirk glanced at the others before replying. “Kwai-Lan is dead.” Since the man’s death, Kirk had assumed the role of leader without argument. None of the others wanted the job anyway.
“What happened?”
Kirk began to recite the tale, and Rena’s gaze drifted downward, settling on the small puddles near the man’s feet. The trip to Vallerton had been a nightmare she did not wish to relive, yet it remained fixed in her mind. The madness.
“What of the people from Vallerton?” Nindlerod asked.
“The journey was slow, but we brought the survivors to Selbin and met with Duke Harper. He promised them food and shelter until they could earn their keep and pay for a place to live. Based on what happened, he agreed that returning to Vallerton would not be an option until it was safe.”
Hedgewick looked at Firellus, who had a scowl on his face. The man had always left Rena uneasy. Now, she backed away in terror. He knows. He sees into my soul.
“Do we have a rogue arcanist?” Hedgewick asked.
“It seems so, but with what motive? A stag seven years ago, a badger this past summer, and now, rabbits?” Firellus shook his head. “Why such odd time gaps? Why do it in the first place?”
“Regardless, the Red Towers remain unsafe until the issue is resolved.”
“Yes,” Kirk agreed. “Duke Harper decided the same thing. He said he would approach King Cassius about the issue and suggested blocking off the road running through the forest and scheduling armed guards to patrol the road to the north. Other than keeping everyone out of the tainted forest, there seems little he can do.”
“True, but what more can we do?” Nindlerod said.
Firellus leaned back, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room. “We have no other trained wardens we can send and even if we did, it wouldn’t be safe. We have no idea what we face here.”
“Madness,” Rena murmured.
“What was that, Rena?” Hedgewick asked.
She looked up at him, “It’s as if the world has gone mad. Oversized, evil animals roaming the land. Pure madness.”
Hedgewick turned to Kirk. “Is she all right?”
The man shrugged. “I don’t know. She was behaving oddly before we even reached Vallerton. And then…she was there when Kwai-Lan died. In fact, we thought her dead as well.”
Nalah put her hand on Rena’s arm. “Rena, how are you feeling? Will you tell us now?”
Rena shrugged. “I…I don’t know.”
Kirk grunted. “See. You’ll get nothing out of her.”
“Perhaps Cassie would fare better,” Bilchard suggested. “They are roommates and Rena is closer to her.”
“Unfortunately, Cassie is not here,” there was anger in Firellus’ voice.
“What?” Rena blinked. “Where is she?”
“Gone. She, Everson, and Ivy left in the dark of night. We believe they have gone south.”
“Why,” Kirk asked.
“A conflict with the Empire now appears inevitable. We believe they intend to join this conflict.”
“War?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Rena swallowed hard and forced a question out, one she feared to have answered. “What of Torney? Have you heard anything?”
The three masters at the table
exchanged sad glances. A terror stirred inside Rena, like an evening shadow creeping across her heart. Hedgewick stood and approached her with sadness in his eyes. He opened his mouth and she shook her head. Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.
“I am sorry, Rena,” Hedgewick grabbed her hands and looked down at them, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Torney is dead.”
The darkness inside her reared up and blotted the light as horror, pain, and madness washed over Rena, seeping into the cracks in her mind until everything shattered.
Somewhere distant, someone shrieked. “No!”
That someone might have been Rena, but Rena was lost. Gone. Forever.
Only madness remained.
27
Preparations
The farm was similar to the others – a cluster of buildings, split rail fences, and fields recently plowed over, ready for planting come spring. Broland’s horse rode along the gravel drive, toward the stable. A squad of Kantarian cavalry trailed him, riding at ease, but ever vigilant. The Empire’s leaders had proven their guile and, as Broland’s father warned, he should never assume anything was as it seemed. Not even here, in the woods north of Wayport.
A modest farmhouse waited in the center of the buildings. A brown barn, a grass-covered mound, and a shed encircled the house. The barn door was open, revealing an empty wagon and plow inside. A workhorse stood in the pen beside the building, gnawing on a mouthful of hay.
Broland spotted a stairwell in the mound leading down to a dark, open doorway. This wasn’t the first farm he had visited with an underground cellar. After the first such sighting, he had inquired about it to the guards in his escort. A man raised on a farm explained how underground food stores were less likely to spoil, particularly in warm climates. Broland recalled the basement storage rooms in Kantar and how they remained cool even on hot days. Makes sense, he thought.
A boy in his early teens emerged from the cellar, his eyes going wide when he spotted the approaching riders. He bolted toward the house, tore open the door, and closed it behind him.
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