by Brandon Mull
He was tugged forward again. Cole walked in brooding silence.
He passed through another door. And another.
Then he was brought to a stop. “Wait here,” the harsh voice demanded. “Don’t move.”
Whoever held the pole connected to his collar set it down.
Footsteps retreated. A door closed.
Cole waited. He could see nothing.
“Honor?” Tessa asked. “Cole?”
“Yes,” Cole said.
“Here,” Honor said.
“Anyone else?” Tessa tried.
There came no reply.
“Where are we?” Tessa asked.
“Underground,” Honor replied. “The bowels of some building. Maybe Hakrel’s Castle.”
“Where?” Cole asked.
“Headquarters for the Enforcers,” Honor replied. “Don’t assume we’re alone just because nobody answered.”
“Indeed,” a confident voice replied.
The unexpected male voice startled Cole.
“Owandell,” Honor said.
“Good memory,” Owandell replied. “Guards, remove the hoods.”
Fingers tugged the bottom of Cole’s hood out from the iron collar and then removed the coarse covering. He blinked beneath the glare of multiple lanterns. The windowless room was made of mortared stone. Honor and Tessa stood off to one side. They wore no collars, and their hands were free.
Owandell paced before them, hands behind his back, wearing a brown robe, shoulders stooped. His hairless head and fleshy features looked much as Cole remembered them from the ceremony at the Founding Stone beneath the First Castle.
“You guards are dismissed,” Owandell said. “Please stay alert.”
Looking over his shoulder, Cole saw four guards dressed as Enforcers exit the room. The far end of the pole attached to his collar rested on the floor, as if to prop him up.
“Does our father know we’re here?” Honor asked once the door had closed.
Owandell shrugged. “Difficult to be sure. Stafford has many spies. I have not informed him, if that is what you mean. The High King is a scant shadow of the leader he once was. I withhold much from him, for the good of the kingdoms.”
“What do you want with us?” Honor asked.
Owandell stopped pacing and smiled. “Is this how it works? Are you conducting an interrogation?”
“You abducted us,” Honor said evenly. “I want to know why.”
“How authoritative of you,” Owandell said. “How absolutely royal. Do you grasp that you are my prisoner? Do you understand that your monarchy is at an end?”
“I understand that you work for my father,” Honor said.
Owandell scrunched one eye and looked upward with the other. “In theory, perhaps. According to certain documents, I owe him my allegiance. Ceremonial vows were made. In practice it has been some time since anyone of consequence took Stafford Pemberton seriously.”
“This castle, this city, and the five kingdoms all belong to him,” Honor said.
“Officially, yes, for the moment,” Owandell said, pacing again. “I despise empty words. Listen. You two princesses currently have political value, but not for much longer. All conventional metrics will soon be outdated. The deck will be reshuffled. Serving boys and milkmaids might outrank kings and queens. All that will matter before long is where you stand with Nazeem.”
“You mean Ramarro?” Cole asked.
“Very few know that name in connection with Nazeem,” Owandell said quietly. “None who do dare utter it.”
“Ramarro?” Cole repeated, happy to bother him.
Owandell gave a very brittle smile. “I’m aware you interacted with my master shortly before he departed the echolands. It is part of the reason I wished to consult with you three. That and the novelty of your shaping powers. Your power looks different, Cole. Much more serviceable than when we last met. I take it the echolands agreed with you?”
“I learned a few things,” Cole said vaguely.
The smile changed to a baring of teeth. “Hearken to my words, boy. The order of the world is changing. Many will suffer. Many will perish. An elect few will rise. Above most others I have encountered, your power could be of interest to Nazeem.”
“It was,” Cole said. “Ramarro tried to recruit me.”
Owandell drew near him. “You resisted?”
“Good guess,” Cole said.
“You are an alien in a dangerous land,” Owandell said. “Do you comprehend that his generosity is your only hope?”
“I’m going to stop him,” Cole said. “You should help us.”
Owandell chuckled. “Do you realize who you’re talking to?”
“Do you get who you serve?” Cole challenged. “You’ll be a slave.”
Owandell grinned. “Even if that were true, Nazeem’s slaves will possess more power than kings. He can effectuate shaping potential that exceeds our greediest fantasies.”
“And he’ll use it to control everyone,” Cole said. “You’ll be at his mercy. And he is not merciful. Surrendering to Ramarro is not winning.”
“Young,” Owandell spat. “Naive. Foolhardy.” He turned to the princesses. “There is no sense in resisting the inevitable. No sense in demanding certain destruction. Your shaping power could interest my master as well.”
“Do you want us to join you?” Honor asked bitterly. “To trust you? You took our powers! You destroyed our family.”
“We’ve met Ramarro,” Tessa said. “We won’t be joining you.”
Owandell smiled. “I feel you trying to engage your power, Honor. Not in my presence, my dear. I could shut down ten of you, especially here in Junction. Doesn’t come as easily as in Elloweer, does it?”
Eyes intent, sweat beading on her brow, Honor grunted in reply.
Owandell shifted his attention to Tessa. “I can even block your squirmy ability. No cryptic babblings will issue forth in my presence.”
His gaze moved on to Cole and showed a flicker of concern. “And you . . . are most unusual.”
“Let us go,” Cole said. “If you won’t help us, just let us go. Wouldn’t it be better if we stopped Ramarro? Even if it’s a long shot?”
Owandell shook his head. “My master is no longer in the echolands. He has already returned.”
“Then where is he?” Cole asked.
Owandell narrowed his eyes. “Something interfered. Perhaps some ancient fail-safe built into his prison.”
“Maybe it was me,” Cole said.
“Impossible,” Owandell whispered.
“Then he must have arrived without any problem,” Cole said. “Where is he?”
Owandell brought his face right up to Cole’s. “What happened? Where is Nazeem?”
“I sent him home to the magical land of the torivors,” Cole said.
Real anger flared in Owandell’s eyes. “I know that isn’t so. It would take an unimaginable amount of power for a torivor to escape this realm. Start speaking truth. Where is Nazeem?”
“Don’t explain,” Honor cautioned.
“I know,” Cole said.
Owandell inched closer, furious eyes unblinking, warm breath unpleasant, until his nose almost touched Cole’s. “You will tell me, boy. Or I’ll leave your power twice as mangled as it was before.”
The threat rattled Cole. He had barely healed his power in the echolands, and the ordeal had stretched him to his limits. With all the troubles ahead, the last thing he wanted was to lose his power again.
But he couldn’t lead Owandell to his master. Cole knew some details of the imprisonment. The vault was called the Void, where Ramarro currently floated at the center of a vast, empty space, reliving the same looping millisecond, unable to move, and drawn back to the center if he did. The torivor had been deposited there with help from the consciousness of Dandalus imprinted on the Founding Stone.
Cole knew the Void was in Creon but had no idea where exactly. And he knew the prison, strong as it was, would probably not ho
ld Ramarro very long. If Owandell found Ramarro, the escape would almost certainly come more speedily.
“Ramarro couldn’t take me down,” Cole said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Owandell huffed incredulously. “Nazeem had his considerable powers focused on returning from the afterlife—a nearly impossible feat. You encountered him at a rare moment of vulnerability and proved an inconvenience.”
“And I’ll do it again,” Cole said. “You should help.”
“Last warning,” Owandell said. “Explain what happened. I know Nazeem crossed over. Tell me where he is.”
“Never,” Cole said.
Owandell backed up a step, glancing at the princesses.
“You know what I’m about to do to him,” Owandell threatened. “Tell me what I want to know.”
“We have no idea,” Honor said. “Cole doesn’t either. He had help diverting Ramarro.”
“I believe that,” Owandell said. “But the boy knows more than he is telling. Very well.” Standing before Cole, Owandell seized his shoulders.
Suddenly Cole could sense Owandell’s power, roiling and dark, tainted but mighty. That corrupt power surged at Cole, sliding across the surface of the energy inside him. Gritting his teeth, Cole pushed Owandell’s power away.
And Owandell staggered, landing flat on his back. Round eyes stared up in shock and dismay.
Cole felt a flash of similar surprise at how naturally it had come to him, then smiled. It felt good to access his power and feel a reaction. He could still perceive Owandell’s power but could no longer connect to it.
Honor laughed. “You’re out of your depth, little man.”
Without a response, still looking startled, Owandell got to his feet, absently brushing at his robe. His gaze shifted between Honor and Cole.
A knock came at the door.
“All is well,” Owandell snapped. “Give us time.”
The knock was repeated more insistently.
“Give us time!” Owandell shouted.
A key jiggled in the lock, and the door opened. An Enforcer poked his head inside. “Begging your pardon, we’re under attack,” the guard said.
“Attack?” Owandell asked, bewildered.
“The royal guard,” the Enforcer said. “The legionnaires. The Junction City Militia. Royalist Enforcers. We’re being overwhelmed. Commander Ratcleff gave the evacuation order.”
Owandell stroked his chin. “Stafford sent his forces against us. The old goat is finally making a move. After all this time, I honestly didn’t believe he had it in him.”
“A decisive move,” the guard said. “Quick. Unexpected. They had help from the inside. The upper levels have already fallen. We can still get you out, but we have to go.”
Owandell started laughing.
“Is everything all right?” the guard asked.
“I’m sorry,” Owandell said, waving away the comment. “The king has no idea what is coming. He is playing politics while the sky is falling. He is fretting about pests in his garden when the volcano next door is about to erupt.”
Cole edged over toward Honor. They needed to escape, and the contact with Owandell had given him an idea. Neither Owandell nor the guard seemed to notice his movement.
“Be that as it may,” the guard said, “the king is successfully taking Hakrel’s Castle. We must away or surrender.”
“Commander Ratcleff had it right,” Owandell said. “This castle is meaningless. Cole, you and your peculiar powers? Pointless! You princesses? Irrelevant! Nazeem is coming. All unrelated currency will soon be worthless.”
“And yet the castle is falling,” the guard reminded everyone. “Leave the prisoners?”
“No,” Owandell said. “They won’t get off that easily. And I will not hand Stafford that minor victory. Bring the prisoners.”
The guard fully opened the door, and three other Enforcers tromped in.
Cole closed the last of the distance between himself and Honor, twisting so he could touch her hand with his hands tied behind his back. He immediately sensed her power, steady and strong. More important, as he had hoped, his own power connected easily to hers. It felt natural and simple, like it had in the echolands.
He could also sense power from Owandell shrouding the energy inside her like a dark, filmy cocoon. Clenching his jaw, Cole used his power to feed energy into hers. Her energy blazed brilliantly, and Owandell’s cocoon evaporated.
With a roar, Honor expanded into a huge, shaggy bear, at least three or four feet taller than Cole. Lunging forward, she clamped her fierce jaws down on the shoulder of the nearest guard. She shook him brutally, making his limbs flop, then heaved him off to one side, where he slammed against the wall and dropped to the floor in a savaged heap.
The bulk of the bear made the room seem much smaller. Cole and Tessa fell back behind her. Though Cole was no longer touching Honor, the connection to her power remained, and he kept feeding her energy.
The Enforcer nearest Honor assumed a fighting stance. Thornlike spikes sprouted from his armor, and his sword elongated into a spear. The Enforcers who Cole had encountered usually had shaping powers. This guy was no exception.
The other two guards ushered Owandell toward the door.
“No,” Owandell griped. “Not without the prisoners.”
“We have no time for a fight,” the guard who had first poked his head in cried. “The king’s men will be upon us shortly.”
The spiky guard lunged forward with his spear. Honor batted the spearhead aside and raked him with her claws. The guard went down, and Honor pounced, wounding her forelegs on his spikes as she tore his armor apart.
The other two guards ushered Owandell out of the room. The door banged shut, and a lock immediately clicked.
Roaring, Honor charged the door, blubber and muscles in motion beneath her golden brown coat. She swatted the door and leaned her bulk against it. She snarled and slashed with her claws. The door held against her assault.
Backing away a pace or two, she faced the door and sat down. The two guards she had mauled lay still.
Owandell did not return.
CHAPTER
3
A RADIANT DEED
Honor had changed back to her human shape by the time the legionnaires encountered them. The smartly uniformed soldiers appeared astonished by the discovery. They abandoned the room once they realized who they had found. When a higher-ranking officer returned, he had Honor and Destiny put on brown robes with cowls.
Cole got the same claustrophobic hood back over his head and was led out of the room by the same iron collar. He proceeded along a winding route to a wagon that carted him away. When he tried to strike up a conversation, Cole found he was alone. He tried to sense Honor’s power, only to find that whatever connection he had established no longer remained.
They had survived Owandell for now. Might Stafford be worse? Cole had met the High King before. At the time, Cole was posing as an errand boy. Would the High King remember him? Would Cole even get an audience with him? What would be the fate of the mysterious kid discovered alongside two of the lost princesses?
Execution seemed like a realistic possibility.
After the wagon stopped, Cole was taken on another excursion. He could tell he was indoors once again. The air eventually grew cooler, damper, smelling of stone and rot. He descended many steps. Several doors opened and closed. He was finally unhooded by a surly guard inside a dank cell. The pole was detached from his iron collar, and a chain was threaded through his collar and locked to the wall.
When the guard closed the cell door, the torchlight departed with him. The cell was almost too small for Cole to lie down. He thought he remembered seeing a little hole in the corner for relieving himself. The chain seemed just long enough to let him reach it.
Cole was sad to lose the company of the princesses. He hoped they had better accommodations than he did. He wondered if their father would try to take their powers again. Could he do that without Owan
dell?
Sighing, Cole sat down. The stone felt uncomfortably cold, even through his clothes. Being locked in a dungeon seemed like an appropriate symbol of total failure. Could he sink lower than this? Maybe a torture chamber. Or a coffin.
The longer Cole sat, the more he began to appreciate the quiet and the darkness. One thing about languishing in a dungeon—it put your other responsibilities on hold. He tried to push his power into the collar again, and into the chain that attached him to the wall, but to no avail. He had felt strong connections with Owandell’s power and Honor’s power, but everything else remained unreachable.
Cole discovered some relief in the lack of responsibility. If Ramarro got free in the near future, Cole could do nothing about it from prison. He thought about Jenna at the Temple of the Still Water, awaiting rescue. He pictured Jace, Joe, and Mira, back in their physical bodies somewhere in Necronum. He wondered about Dalton and Hunter, who had avoided getting drawn into the echolands. All were most likely facing their own troubles.
And there was nothing Cole could do.
It might be up to his friends to rescue him this time. The iron collar, the chain, and the locked cell door meant he wasn’t going anywhere for a while.
Leaning against the chilly wall, Cole fell asleep.
* * *
Cole awoke when his cell door opened. A pair of guardsmen stepped inside, taking up most of the remaining space. One held a torch.
“On your feet,” one of the guards ordered gruffly.
“Yeah, okay,” Cole said, trying to fully awaken.
The guards leaned close, looking at the collar. He held a tiny key. “I don’t see where to put this,” he said.
The torchbearer stepped nearer, squinting. “The jailer could have been more specific.”
“The chain is just looped through my collar,” Cole offered. “I think the lock is on the wall.”
