by J. A. Comley
“What's wrong?” Shaneulia asked. Naleiya looked stretched to her limit.
Naleiya ignored her and rushed to the throne, interrupting Markis.
“My King,” the urgent tone of her voice coupled with the frenzied fire in her eyes stopped the King's reprimand, “the Baron was at the library much earlier today, not tonight. The head clerk and two of her colleagues are dead at the Baron's hand. All the Registries were stolen. I believe he is going to run,” she finished, bowing and already stepping backwards towards the doors, anticipating his next command.
“Quickly, then. Get to his house and arrest him, by order of the King,” the Prince said, as his grandfather stared speechless, his old face aghast.
Naleiya nodded quickly, spinning around towards the doors. Two steps from the door, she stumbled in shock as her wife's limp body was brought in, carried between four of her men.
“No!” she gasped, kneeling on the floor as the four soldiers carefully laid their Commander down. The silver handle of a dagger protruded from her abdomen.
“What happened!” the King demanded, snapping back to the present.
“It was Captains Reldrox and Trent,” an officer murmured, his voice disbelieving. “We were preparing to go looking for the woman, Starla. Captain Reldrox was to lead us. The Commander was just finishing her orders outside the Wall when Captain Trent arrived, approached her, then stabbed her and fled into the woods. Others … they turned on us. Many fell. Then the traitors ran, following Trent. Ten of us survived survived. We brought the Commander back here. The others are now chasing after Trent.”
Naleiya worked swiftly, trying to ignore the officer's voice, trying to still her rising anger. She murmured spells to ease her wife's pain and prevent further blood loss as she removed the dagger. She cursed herself for not listening. Her brother had said Trent was with the Baron.
A small gludron blade glinted in the light of the chandeliers.
Naleiya hissed in frustration, throwing the blade away from her in disgust.
“I cannot heal this properly, alone. It is beyond my skill.”
“I shall get Makhi Jensula,” one of her party offered, referring to one of the Order's most experienced healers. At Naleiya's nod, the Makhi darted out through the doors.
“Naleiya, I could … take over—” Makhi Lintonel began, her dark eyes fearful of her friend's reaction. “The Baron—”
The Baron.
Taking a deep breath, Naleiya stilled her own emotions, pushing them aside. Lintonel could keep Medara alive as well as she could until Makhi Jensula arrived. The Baron had to be caught, brought to justice.
“Yes. Thank you.” Naleiya looked to her remaining Makhi. “We go to arrest the Baron.”
Before she could move to leave, a heavily burned man flung himself into the room, panting deeply, gasping in pain. He collapsed just inside the doors, seeming unable to drag himself another step.
“Trent … escaped,” he said, each word seeming to cost an immense effort. Naleiya quickly eased his pain and ordered two of her remaining team to start working on the burns and the deep gashes now visible on his back.
“He had soldiers … waiting,” the man continued, grimacing as the Makhi set to work. “Half of the civilian guard, about a quarter of the Royal Guard.” He gulped convulsively. “And a … a magmus, sire.”
“The rest of the men?” the King asked grimly, already knowing the answer.
“Dead,” the officer whispered. “I was right at the back. The magmus fire mostly missed me. I … I ran. He let me go.” He sounded disgusted at his cowardice, but fear still filled his eyes.
The Prince exchanged a look with Queen Zerina.
“This is just as it was in Cosmaltia,” she said, her husky voice low. “Kyron plays with his enemies, but eventually grows bored. With magmi now so close to the city, he is ready to make his final move.”
“We need that amulet,” Niden said, just as Makhi Jensula entered, hurrying straight to the Commander’s side.
Silently, he worked, the wound closing slowly.
“She will need some of your serum, alchemist,” Makhi Jensula said, looking to Markis. “To regain her strength quicker, or we will have no Commander for a few days.”
Markis nodded and looked to his wife. Shaneulia looked once more at Naleiya and left the room at a brisk trot.
“The Baron—” ventured one of the remaining eight Makhi whom Naleiya hadn't engaged in healing.
Four of you go. Her mental sending was rough with anger. Arrest the traitor.
Medara tried to speak and Naleiya was at her side at once, running her fingers through her dark blonde hair.
“Shh, my love. You need rest,” she whispered.
She fixed her with a gaze so stern she was surprised Medara managed it in her condition.
“Kyron has … Starla,” she managed after a few false starts.
The room fell dead silent. Naleiya glanced away from her wife, looking at Prince Niden in horror.
“How?” the Prince managed to croak.
The Commander didn't answer. Naleiya's attention snapped back to her wife. She barely seemed to be breathing.
“Step aside,” Makhi Jensula commanded. “She is alive, but weak. I need another four Makhi to help me maintain her body until the alchemist's wife returns.”
“Not you, Naleiya,” Zerina said, her voice sharp with stress. “You need to arrest a traitor before he gets away, too.”
A stifled groan came from behind the Cosmaltian Queen, even as the Prince caught his grandfather.
“It's his heart,” Naleiya said after rushing over, “You two, stay with the King. A heart attack is within your healing skills?” she confirmed.
Naleiya felt like her head would burst. How so much could go wrong in one evening because of one man seemed utterly beyond reason.
The Commander opened her eyes again. “The Baron—”
“I am going to—” Naleiya's face went suddenly blank. A look mirrored by the other Makhi in the room.
Everyone had their eyes on her as she came back to herself. Markis was feeding a bottle of violet gloop to the Commander.
“Continue your healing!” Makhi Jensula barked, coming to himself first.
“Naleiya, what—?” Medara wheezed, even as her skin took on a healthier colour. She watched, anxious, as fear, pain and panic filled her wife's eyes.
“The High Lord has just messaged the Order,” Naleiya said, her steady voice revealing nothing of her inner turmoil. “He has confronted the Baron. Kyron will attack in five days at dusk.” She ignored the gasps, turning to one of the four officers who had brought her husband in. “You,” her gaze took in two of the Makhi not occupied with saving the King's life, “send runners, get all the remaining captains here. Tell them only that their Commander orders their presence immediately.” She turned to the King's Makhi. “One of you, get to the Order. Make sure Ditte,” she spat his name, “can cause no more harm.”
The Commander threw her wife a weak smile. Her ability to remain calm in a crisis was one of the things that she loved most about her. Still, the panic in her eyes had grown. Medara had never seen her panic. None of the other Makhi looked as close to the edge. What had she left out?
Naleiya rose to her feet. “I am going to arrest that traitor.” Her calm voice filled with hatred as she spoke.
Without even a bow to the Prince and Cosmaltian Queen, she rushed from the room, the remaining two Makhi, Roldin and Wekin, hastening to follow.
Naleiya raced to the Baron's house, trying to reign in her dread, hoping that she wasn't too late, hoping her team had got to him in time. As soon as her brother had opened his connection to the Order again to send his message, she had made use of their stronger bond to dig deeper, to get to the things he had managed to hide from everyone else.
Her heart twisted in her chest as she remembered the image, seen through his eyes. Larkel was looking up at the Baron, as if he were kneeling before him. She could not find the cause fo
r this. She could not fathom how the Baron could have brought down a Makhi as powerful as her brother. Yet, she had felt Larkel's magic waning, felt the weight of spells on him, whose source he hid too well for her to discern.
She had seen his staff, far out of reach. Worse, she had seen the Baron, face smug, holding a gludron blade like an executioner. Gludron blades were the only weapon that could kill a Makhi as effectively as a spell. The blade itself drained their magical energy, preventing their powers of self-healing.
She had been able to see that it was the same blade that had stolen Redkin's life before her brother shut her, and every other Makhi, out.
She tried to stop the tears that burned her eyes as she remembered the edge of fear in her brother's message. The panic in her rose further as she felt again the sense of farewell that accompanied the finality with which he had severed the connection. She couldn't sense anything, any more. The bond was gone.
Finally, the three of them could see the Baron's mansion, looming out of the darkness as they raced across the sea-green grass. The rest of her team were nearly at the walls of the house, trying to break a shield that barred their way.
Naleiya froze and the two Makhi skidded to a halt several steps in front of her, not having expected the sudden stop. Drodemions swarmed around the front of the house. The Makhi trying to break in were thrown to the ground by an unseen force.
Her eyes grew wide in disbelief as she spotted the Baron, looking vaguely dissatisfied, his sword dripping with blood. Behind him, Larkel lay crumpled, face down and motionless on the floor.
“No!” she shrieked in defiance, ignoring the fact that the drodemions must be shamans and that she had no hope of winning if her brother had failed.
She had closed half the distance between her and the other two Makhi before a magmus reared up in the darkness behind the mansion. She had time to process no more before the Baron's mansion exploded.
Naleiya awoke to the smell of molten glass and burning wood. She flinched as pin-pricks of pain flared all over her body.
“You have many glass fragments in you,” a familiar voice said gently. “You were badly burned, too, but that's all healed now.”
She realised her head was in someone's lap. She opened her eyes. Shaneulia. Her friend smiled down at her.
Concentrating on her power, she saw that it was being diverted all over her body in thin streams. Fully conscious now, she urged the streams to strengthen, forcing the fragments out faster, hastily healing the wounds behind them.
“Let me up,” she said, and leaned heavily on Shaneulia as her friend complied.
Naleiya felt shock and horror rearrange her features as she took in the scene.
The Baron's mansion was now a smouldering wreck. Bits of debris lay everywhere. Fires were still burning in the bushes. Soldiers and Makhi were swarming around the ruins.
“Easy,” Shaneulia cautioned as Naleiya gasped and took an unsteady step forward.
The Makhi who had been with her were dead. Body parts and ragged, white robes littered the grass.
“Why didn't they—” Naleiya started to ask before remembering that she, herself, had forgotten to raise a shield.
“They shielded you,” Prince Niden said, gently, coming up behind them.
Naleiya shut her eyes, shaking her head. An image appeared unbidden behind her lids. The Baron, his sword dripping red, her brother's crumpled, lifeless body behind him.
“The drodemions—” She looked around, trying to spot a fragment of her brother's robe.
“Drodemions?” the Prince asked, his surprise answering Naleiya's questions. “No drodemion cursed parts have been found,” he finished, grim now.
Naleiya shook Shaneulia's arm off, and moved towards the ruins in a dream-like state. Two soldiers came past, a shrouded body carried between them. A small body. A child.
“Braxton's servants and their families were still inside when it exploded.” Niden's voice seemed to come from far away as he explained. “It seemed they had been chained in the basement and … and tortured by grobblers.”
Just inside the wrecked house, Naleiya dropped to her knees. Her soot-covered face was already streaked by tears that just kept flowing, silently. Her brother's circlet of office was lying in a half-dried pool of blood. So much blood. She stared wide-eyed, tears flowing as her mind refused to accept what it was seeing. Beside the crimson pool was the High Lord's staff, still glowing faintly, completely unscathed, its magic having protected it from the blast. Nearby, fragments of his dress robes were soaking up yet more of his blood, half-covering his circlet of office.
There was no body. Nothing to bury, to say goodbye to. Just as Kyron preferred.
Prince Niden kneeled beside her, tears running down his cheeks too. Silently, he leaned over and picked up something from the edge of the pool of his friend's blood.
It was a magmus scale, long and a glossy black. The underside bore the crest of Kyron, and a message. He held it out to Naleiya. She read the burning letters silently.
“Surrender by dawn in four days or, as the sun fails on the fifth, I will make you watch as all you love is destroyed by my hand, just as your High Lord has fallen to me, tonight. You already have nothing left.
Choose quickly or death will be all this new year brings.”
Not fully in conscious control of her movements, Naleiya reached out and pulled her brother's staff towards her. She hugged it tightly to her chest and gave herself over to the wave of despair that crushed her.
Chapter 16
Within the Darkness
Hell. That's where they were. Father Joe was sure of it. Not the hell of the Bible. There were no dead sinners here, but it was a place of eternal torture and fear. So, hell nonetheless.
The place was always filled with whimpers of pain. Every night, screams would echo off the vaulted ceiling of the cave they were caged in. His screams. His friends screams. Strangers who normally didn't last the night. When they managed to sleep, unearthly sounds woke them within a couple of hours. The grey, blind, corpse-like creatures that roamed the cavern during the day chilled the old priest's blood. The creatures worked tirelessly by the lava pit at the end of the cavern, forging strange blades which glowed a diseased green.
“Father Joe?” Elise's voice came from his right, where she, her husband and the twins were kept in a separate cage.
“Yes?” he asked into the darkness. There was no light coming through the cavern's oculus, though dawn had to be nearing. The glow from the veiled pit was too weak to do more than reflect off their eyes and the tear that now slid down Elise's cheek.
“Father, I—” she began, stopping to swallow a sob. “Please, he's burning up. Don't … please don't let them take Antonio again.” Her voice cracked as she cried.
Every night, straight after nightfall, men wearing silver skull-masks would come and take one of them to a table just beyond the cages' sight. There the Devil waited for them. He would torture them. Father Joe shivered as he remembered the pain the man's strange powers caused. The way he kept your body from falling unconscious, from dying as he ripped into you again and again. His pointed teeth always bared in pleasure.
When they had first been brought here, wherever here really was, he had asked them questions about a girl with an amulet. He had somehow seen her in their minds. Starla. Father Joe and Raoul had been selected for most of those questionings, Kyron believing them to know more than the others in the group. But Elise had disappeared for a whole week. Taken out of the cavern entirely. When she returned she had refused to utter a word, looking terrified when anyone touched her, even Antonio. He prayed that his fearful guess about what had happened to her was wrong.
This night, the men had come early. They spoke of wanting a little fun before work and tried to take Elise. Antonio had fought them. Father Joe couldn't find his voice to answer Elise, remembering the punishment Antonio had suffered. Here, in front of the cages, where they were made to bear witness to more than just his screams.
>
“We will do all we can.” Raoul's calm voice answered Elise, his tone still hinting at the relief he had felt when the men did not take Elise after Antonio was punished. He had already had to endure her being tortured, he could not endure her being defiled too, not three steps away. “Now, try and get some rest, sister.”
Raoul was in the same cage as Father Joe and Pierre. He had never succumbed to the Devil's will as the red-haired being had broken his bones and ripped his flesh. He just screamed and screamed. He had only spoken of his love for Starla, which, unfortunately, seemed to greatly amuse their torturer.
Father Joe shook his head. None of them knew the answers to the Devil, Kyron's questions and he was certain Kyron himself knew this. But still, they were tortured.
***
“Dawn is fast approaching,” Raoul said, grunting as he shifted painfully. His most recent tortures had left him with a badly broken arm. In the beginning all their wounds were healed away. Lately, only life-threatening injuries had been healed.
Elise had fallen silent a while ago, so Father Joe took the comment as directed at him.
“Yes, the sky turns red.” And that was how it would stay. There was no blue sky here, just a deep, blood-red.
Dawn would bring the skeletal creatures back to their manufacturing, the sounds of industry making sleep impossible. He had learned from the scrawny woman who brought them food once a day that the creatures were called drodemions and that they had once been people. He had tried asking her how Starla was involved in all this, but his question had been overheard.
The torture he received in punishment for mentioning her name had left him unconscious for three days. He still didn't think he could ever watch Mia or Starla stitching again. The spiked threads they had forced in and out of his body, back and forth, back and forth for an eternity, laced his body with pain.
The red light strengthened and the old priest looked over at Raoul. The young man's face was gaunt and pale, drawn with pain. His eyes were closed as he leaned his head back against the bars. Yesterday, as he had been tortured, his arms broken and healed and re-broken, Kyron had offered to send him and all his friends back home if he would just assassinate Starla and bring her amulet here. Raoul had spit in his face.
