by J. A. Comley
If magic wouldn't work, he would have to resort to more mundane methods. He launched himself at the Baron. Grabbing a fistful of his clothes, Larkel dragged Braxton in front of him like a shield. The spell coiling around his legs vanished as soon as it came in to contact with whatever protection Kyron had given Braxton.
The Baron tried to shrug away, ripping his clothes, but Larkel struck him on the head with his staff, getting a better grip on the Baron's now exposed shoulder. Braxton, though dazed, remained standing.
The High Lord continued to launch spells at the drodemions, taking out a couple more. All the rebounding spells dissipated against the Baron's shield.
Suddenly, Larkel became aware of Braxton's mind. Still launching spells at the attackers, effectively keeping them at bay, if not actually defeating them, the High Lord entered the Baron's consciousness.
He found a memory of the meeting he had seen from the Shanebury Inn's window. He experienced another memory of the Baron telling his followers of the final phase in Kyron's plan and their roles in it. He stood appalled at how long and complete their betrayal of Galatia had been. The Queen had been waylaid on her mission to Timiol. The attack on the Queen and her current absence was their doing. He found some hope in that things hadn't gone quite according to plan. The mission hadn't been completed to Kyron's satisfaction. Perhaps she was still alive. However, they had still succeeded in their main goal of depriving Galatia of her powers. For three years, now, they had worked tirelessly for their Master. So many spies. In the Court, the Guard, the Order, everywhere.
Larkel ignored his feeling of triumph at being proved right about the Baron. It was a false victory, anyway. Everything else had been lost. More drodemions went down. He probed the Baron's mind for Starla. The first memory he found was just before the hearing. He dropped the memory soon after it began, afraid to lose his concentration as a fierce hatred sped through his veins. Another memory. The Baron's orders for the grobbler hunting party. He felt the Baron's disappointment to learn that she hadn't been brought to him first, but handed directly over to a magmus. The Baron firmly believed that she was in Abyss Valley now, a prisoner at Kyron's mercy.
Larkel suppressed his horror, hoping the Baron's beliefs were wrong. Either way, he had found his answer. Starla wasn't here. She really had gone into the forest. He hoped Gaby had been keeping an eye out and that Starla was safe with her. If not? A magmus with a prisoner would take several days to reach Abyss Valley. He had time to catch up.
A drodemion's rattling voice drew the High Lord's attention. He had become so wrapped up in the Baron's memories that he had forgotten to keep hurling spells at the approaching force. He hadn't heard what it said. He smiled grimly as three more fell to his power.
Still connected to the Baron, Larkel pushed more magic into his next spell. He was too used to having to be cautious, being so many times stronger than other Makhi. Not here. Here, he could obliterate.
A new memory intruded on his concentration and the spell went wide, only taking down a handful of the small number of drodemions that remained. He resolutely refused to look at the bodies as they reverted to their original forms in death. Then the memory took over his senses.
The High Lord was looking through the Baron's eyes as, in the memory, Braxton rounded a corner in the dark tower. He watched, helpless as his friend and mentor's face grew white with fear, his eyes widening in disbelief as the Baron ran him through with a gludron blade. He felt the Baron's satisfaction as he attached a little device to the old Makhi lying on the ground, clutching at his wound. The Baron's memory did not name the object, but Kyron had designed it to take all memories within a mind. Ditte's sure information that Redkin was the only other who knew how to deactivate the protection spells was why the death had to be slow. He felt the Baron smile as, seconds after he had reclaimed the memory device, the light left the Gullit's eyes. Carefully, Braxton had knelt down and placed Starla's bird book beneath the body, in a growing pool of blood.
Larkel felt his hand fall away from the Baron's shoulder. The crushing weight of the pain and guilt was like a physical blow. The memory was as real as if he had been there himself. As if he had killed Redkin, himself.
The Baron swivelled away from Larkel and the three remaining drodemions closed in.
The High Lord tried to emerge above his despair but the drodemions' spells brought him to his knees. All he could see was his mentor, his friend, dying. He could feel the weight of the sword as it was driven through the old man's body. He tried to raise his staff, but found his hand empty.
He fought to clear his mind, to focus as the drodemions unleashed spells that, fuelled by Kyron himself, bound the High Lord's great power. Without his staff and its Illion crystals to amplify it further, he could not escape.
“You shouldn't poke around in people's minds uninvited,” said the Baron, a sneer on his face again.
Then the High Lord understood. The drodemions had sensed what he was doing and warned the Baron, and he had pulled up the one memory sure to give them at least a few seconds.
Clarity flooded back into Larkel's mind and he glared at the Baron, even as he saw that he had lost.
“I no longer care about keeping up the charade,” the Baron continued, sounding relaxed again, as if nothing had passed. “I will take the Sacred Stones to Master Kyron before dawn and he will reward me with that lovely vixen you thought was yours.”
Larkel teeth snapped together. “How could you do it? How could you kill him. You've known him as long as I have,” he demanded, trying and failing to break the binding spells.
“Gullit was one of the ones responsible for their fate, for her fate. Just like the King. Just like you. He deserved his end.” The Baron's voice held a tinge of bitterness.
“Why? Why serve Kyron?” Larkel breathed, his strength waning as he tried to push against the spells once more.
“Power, revenge … but mostly because of you,” the Baron said, his voice turning harsh with bitter anger and resentment. “Oh, and, of course, for the freedom to do whatever I please with Starla.”
Anger finally returned to Larkel's pain-riddled body. “This is between you and me, Braxton. You leave her out of this.” He managed to break through one of the binding spells, just as another three tightened around him.
“You are right.” The Baron leaned forward, his hatred filled eyes only inches away. “You are the reason for all my actions. You are the reason Redkin had to die. You, because of your mistake, your inaction … your decisions,” he sneered the word through a snarl. “You are the reason that golden-haired wench will scream and beg. You will pay for what you did to my family.”
Larkel flinched away from the image of Starla under the Baron's power.
“That … it … I—” the High Lord tried to find the words. The Baron's family. Kyron's attack on the City. Braxton blamed him for that?
“Do you remember?” the Baron snarled, standing erect and unsheathing his gludron sword.
Of course Larkel remembered. He had lost his father that night. He had been forced to destroy so may others. The Baron's family.
“I didn't have—” Larkel began, just as he had that night, and just like then the Baron cut him off.
“Silence!” he said, spitting with rage as he took up an executioner's stance to the side of Larkel. “I never have to hear another word that comes out of your mouth. By now, the amulet is destroyed, or Master Kyron has found a way to use it. This city will be mine in just five more days. And they will be avenged,” he said, seemingly speaking more to himself than Larkel.
Larkel fought against the spells and groaned, feeling almost all of his power wane. Shutting his eyes, he used his last trickle of magic to reopen the connection to his Order. He showed them the Baron, the drodemion shamans, carefully concealing the location. He sent through a replay of the conversation from the moment he had crashed through the Baron's door. He highlighted the date of Kyron's attack. Then, firmly, with a pang of loss and regret, he sealed
off the connection and dissolved it. No Makhi needed to get in the way of the drodemions until the actual battle and no Makhi should have to live his death as he had lived Redkin's.
“Braxton, please, stop this madness,” Larkel said wearily, searching for some hint of his childhood friend in the grey, rage-filled eyes above him. “She wouldn't have wanted this.”
“You don't get to speak for her!” he bellowed, his faces inches from Larkel's. Breathing heavily, he resumed his executioner's stance. “By the power of Master Kyron, I relieve you of your duties as High Lord of Galatia,” the Baron spat, a mad grin tugging on his mouth as he lifted the sword.
Larkel pushed against his bonds again and knew he had no more to give, no more to lose. “I love you, Starla,” he whispered, shutting his eyes.
The Baron gave one contemptuous snort and swung the sword.
Chapter 15
What the New Year Brings
Naleiya dropped the maps and documents as something hard whip-lashed against her mind. Ignoring the fallen papers that the Makhi Council had asked her to collect from her home, Naleiya searched with her mind for the cause.
“Larkel,” she breathed. He had just closed his connection to his Order. The entire Order.
Shutting her eyes, she let out a deep breath. She was certain of two things: one, while she had noticed the sealing of the connection because of her blood-tie to Larkel, the rest of the Makhi would not notice, unless or until they specifically wished to communicate with him; two, that her brother was planning on doing something incredibly stupid. Not good.
Snatching up the papers, she dashed from her home. She knew the Commander, her wife, had been told to take Larkel to prison after his attack on the Baron. That hadn't worked out as planned. When the first escort were found unconscious, she had let her wife know that Larkel was in the alcove, and that it might be best to listen to him when he was found. She shook her head, remembering the anger and excitement that had been tangible through the connection. She also knew that Medara was going to offer house arrest as an alternative to the Tower dungeons. She skidded to a halt just inside her brother's property, the little gate swinging silently shut behind her.
The little house stood dark.
“Aure Larkel,” she murmured, waving her light wood staff.
His dark-gold aura markings appeared everywhere but none were fresher than about eight hours ago.
Trying to think of ways to calm her headstrong brother, she sprinted for the alcove. Rounding a hedge into the first stretch of garden pathway, she collided with her wife, papers flying everywhere.
“Naleiya!” the Commander exclaimed, steadying her wife. “Are you all right?”
Medara smoothed Naleiya's auburn hair as her indigo eyes shot a worried glance over Medara's shoulder.
“It's Larkel. He's shut his connection to the Order,” she panted, her voice becoming distant as she concentrated. “I can't get a reading on him at all.”
“Perhaps he needed time to think alone,” Medara said, her tone reassuring. “He discovered a few things. I am on my way to the King now,” she continued, bending to scoop up the maps and other documents. “I sent him home, so he probably—”
“He didn't go home. I have just come from there,” Naleiya countered, handing Medara the last map and moving past her, in the direction of the fountain.
“Sweetheart, stop,” Medara said, holding her arm. “Look, when I left, Larkel was very frustrated. He wants to be doing something and at the moment, he can't. As for closing his mental connection, well, you tell me what you think the majority of the Order is currently thinking about.”
Naleiya sighed, but didn't turn to face her wife. Of course the Order would be reeling from the death of one of its oldest and strongest members, and news of her brother's antics against the Baron and his own Makhi was no doubt spreading, too. She sighed again, shutting her eyes, fighting the tears she couldn't afford to shed now.
“Besides,” the Commander continued, seeing the sadness in the set of Naleiya's lips, “I need you to come and help me apprehend the Baron.”
Her wife spun on her heels to face Medara, indigo eyes ablaze, so much like Larkel's had been by the little frockle pond.
“You have evidence? Enough to get the King's command?” Naleiya said, letting Medara lead her in a fast trot towards the palace.
“Yes, it is enough. I haven't yet had a chance to tell the King, but I want to send a party out to capture the Baron immediately. If it is true, I expect him to run as soon as he knows we are on to him,” Medara said, a hint of anger in her tone.
“But why me?” Naleiya said, feeling uneasy. The connection to Larkel remained closed. “Send someone else. I have to find my brother.”
The Commander sighed as she stopped just outside the Palace. “Naleiya, after the High Lord and—” she paused at the painful memory, “Makhi Redkin, you are our strongest Makhi. If the King doesn't retract the Prince's command, you are the leader of the Order now, even if Larkel hasn't yet passed you the bond. If all we fear is true, then I need you to lead the party. Galatia needs someone commanding its Makhi until your brother can clear his head. A group of warrior Makhi are already on their way to the throne room. Please, Naleiya.”
Naleiya frowned a little at the hint of disapproval in her wife's tone. As if she wouldn't be just as beside herself if Naleiya were the one missing. Reluctantly, she nodded and they hurried into the Palace.
Perhaps Larkel had just taken a convoluted route home. He always did like going for long walks whenever he felt frustrated, or needed to clear his head. A habit he had inherited from their father.
***
The King was back in the throne room, in deep conversation with his grandson, the Prince.
“My King,” the Commander said, sketching a hasty bow as she and her wife entered the room. “The documents and maps you asked for, Prince Niden,” she added, handing over the papers.
Quickly, she explained to the King about Larkel's discoveries by the frockle fountain. Naleiya felt her heart ache as she handed over the scraps of Starla's letter. So her brother had been right. She hoped Starla was alright. She had already grown to like the strange woman.
A hiss escaped her through her teeth as her wife held out the Baron's cufflink and explained how his aura markings headed for the Makhi Tower. She felt the bile rise in her throat. At that moment, twelve other Makhi entered the throne room and bowed to the King, who nodded absent-mindedly as he continued to listen to the Commander's report.
Quickly, Naleiya approached them and explained where they were going and why. She grasped their hands, connecting so that they could coordinate mentally.
“Makhi Naleiya?” the King called. “You are prepared to bring the Baron here and test him through a Verelios Beam?” He waited for her nod. “Then, go. Quickly. I commanded him to go to the Royal Library, for our Registries. Remember, you are formally requesting his presence here. There is no need for violence. Report to me first if he is not there,” he added, as if a dark thought had just occurred to him.
Naleiya nodded, barked a command at her Makhi and raced out the doors, her little group falling in behind her, faces grim.
“High Commander,” the King continued as soon as the Makhi had left, “I need you to prepare a search party. One of my Makhi will join you. If Larkel was right about everything, then we need to find Starla. Her amulet, if real, could end this war. We need it.”
Medara bowed and noticed one of her more promising Captains loitering in the entrance hall.
“Captain Reldrox!” she barked, moving swiftly towards the startled young man. Motioning him to follow, they left the Palace at a brisk pace, the Commander explaining what was needed in the short time before sunrise.
Naleiya flew up the stairs, taking them three at a time, her robe billowing out behind her. It must be nearly midnight by now. She fervently hoped that they could start this new year with the Baron behind bars. Bursting through the opulent doors unceremoniously, she skidd
ed to a halt just inside. The emptiness of the room pressed down on her. It was all in darkness. No lit torches or candles, no signs of life.
“Aure Braxton,” she commanded after forming a halo of light around her company.
Grey aura markings popped up. She shook her head, confused. These were old, at least twelve hours. The Baron had not come here tonight, as commanded.
Silently, she followed the markings to the librarian's desk. The metallic tang of blood assailed her before she saw the body. She heard the other Makhi gasp in horror. The frail old Head Clerk lay in a pool of her own blood. Her head lay a foot away.
Swinging away from the horrific scene, she followed the markings further into the library. Two clerks lay dead along the aisle, their throats slit. Blood spatter shone across the shelves, soaking into the books and manuscripts.
Naleiya cursed, causing the even grimmer Makhi behind her to jump. Before them lay a shattered glass cabinet. The registries were gone. All of them. Even the newly-written Refugee Registry.
Larkel had been right about everything. Now, if they couldn't catch the Baron, Kyron would know exactly how many people were in Galatia's Royal City, how many still waited in the villages and towns. He would know what gifts or skills each of those people possessed.
Cursing again, Naleiya pushed past her Makhi without a word, sprinting for the stairs. She ignored the feelings of horror, anger and uncertainty that the other Makhi were exuding mentally. With an increasing sense of urgency, she raced down the stairs and back to the throne room, glad again that she had taken the time to change at home. Heels and dresses were no good on a night like this.
She hoped her brother would keep his word to her wife. Otherwise, he would confront the Baron himself, which might well result in the Baron's death. She had to get to him fast. They needed to know who the other traitors were. The Baron couldn't be working alone.
She skidded to a halt, narrowly managing to avoid bowling Shaneulia over as she rushed into the throne room.
