Powers of the Six

by Kristal Shaff

  Alec jumped down from a rock where he’d been watching the girls. Tension oozed from him like a dark, stormy cloud. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Alec called to them.

  Taryn turned her head violently, flinging strings of once-blond hair now caked with grime. She answered with a glare that clearly said, “Don’t even ask.”

  Hakan barked a laugh. “Aye, the boy will learn when to keep his mouth shut.”

  Alec pressed his lips together in a scowl. He paced, his emotions radiating uselessness.

  “Why don’t you sit and relax?” Emery suggested. “They’ll be at it for a while.”

  Alec ignored him; Emery sensed his tension increase even more. Why was the boy so upset?

  “Please, Alec. They’ll be fine,” Emery urged again. “Look at what a fine job they’re doing.”

  Megan glared this time, though she didn’t look very scary with mud smeared across her nose.

  “But you could’ve been killed,” Alec said. “I should’ve been there!”

  How would rolling in the mud kill anyone? One could choke on it, he supposed. Then revelation washed over him. Alec had missed an encounter with a trio of Strength Rol’dan in Caldalk three days ago.

  “It would’ve been nice if you were there,” Emery said, “but we handled it without you. Well, actually, Maska handled it.”

  Maska grunted. “It was simple.”

  While staying overnight at an inn, three Strength Rol’dan made the two biggest mistakes of their lives. The first: trying to push their lusts onto Megan and Taryn. The second: insulting Maska. It had been a tough fight, one that almost cost Maska his life. But he’d survived. The Rol’dan, however …

  A squeal came from below. Megan slipped and fell on her backside in the muck. Hakan choked a laugh, smiling broadly. Emery wisely made no expression at all.

  “Are you sure you don’t need help?” Alec asked again.

  “No!” both girls screamed.

  Alec stammered, “I … I was trying to help, for Brim’s sake. I’ll just go wait—”

  Megan’s gasped. “By the light!” she said. “I’ve found it!” With a sucking gurgle, she pulled it from the muck, revealing a dirty, brown lump in her palm.

  “That’s it?” Emery said. Though from the way her emotions soared, and how her tension suddenly vanished, they’d found the Stone of Healing.

  Taryn scooted closer to Megan to admire it.

  “What I wouldn’t give for a painter right now,” Hakan teased. “Would love to remember this vision. It’d make a grand piece to hang on my wall.”

  “And the next time you hurt yourself, you’ll wish you hadn’t insulted us,” Megan said.

  “A very good threat, lass,” Hakan said, “but the temptation might be worth the risk. Once I get back I might try my hand at jotting it down. You know, for posterity’s sake.”

  Megan scowled, though a smile hid beneath it. “It wasn’t your posterity I was threatening.”

  “Come on, ladies.” Emery chuckled and offered his hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up before Hakan ingrains the vision in his mind.”

  “Ah, but it’s too late.” Hakan pointed a thick finger to the side of his bushy mane. “It’s all here.”

  “Well,” Megan said, “let’s hope you’re able to make it home alive.”

  Hakan threw back his head and laughed. “Indeed.”

  The girls trekked up the incline, slipping several times on the way. Megan grabbed Emery’s waiting hand, and he pulled her up the hill before helping Taryn. When they were both on flat ground, he shook his hand, spattering mud onto the weeds.

  “Hakan, can you hear any water nearby? A lake or stream?” Emery asked.

  “Right on it,” Hakan said as his Perception glowed orange.

  Emery met Megan’s eyes. “Well done. If anyone could find it, it would be you.”

  She smiled, and a smudge of mud cracked on her cheek. On an impulse, Emery reached up and wiped it off. Shock and excitement spiked in her. He inhaled sharply and yanked his hand away.

  “Sounds like there might be a small stream,” Hakan said, pointing. “But it’s the wrong way from home. So if we wait a bit, then we can …” His voice trailed off.

  Hakan frowned. He put a finger to his lips. Pulling his crossbow from his back, he motioned for them to follow and took off at a run.

  In and out of the trees they darted, only hearing the crunch of their feet in the brush and the heavy beating of their hearts. Hakan stopped, his eyes blazing orange. He squatted in a small clearing, motioning for the others to do the same. “We’re being followed,” he whispered.

  “Who are they?” Megan said.

  “Sounds like Rol’dan. A large group of them, too. But we’re in luck. They don’t know we’re here.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Alec hissed. “If they’re following us, they must know.”

  “Not entirely true,” Emery said, his eyes dropping to the stone in Megan’s hand.

  “Crows!” Hakan said. “They’re following the stone.”

  “So what do we do?” Megan asked.

  “We need to stop them,” Emery said. “Use the stone as bait. With the element of surprise, we might have a chance.” Emery turned to Megan. “You and Taryn hide until it’s safe.”

  “She can hide without me,” Megan said, annoyance tainting her emotions. “I’m needed here.”

  “Megan, please,” Emery said.

  “I’m staying.”

  Emery’s heart sank. Stubborn girl. He turned to Taryn. “Run. Then hide. If all goes well, we’ll see you soon.”

  Her eyes darted toward Alec.

  “Listen to Emery.” Alec grabbed her trembling hand. Emery could sense Alec’s fear, not for himself, but for her.

  “Go,” Alec whispered.

  “Where?”

  “Away from us. We’ll find you when it’s over.”

  She nodded, tears streaming through the grime on her cheeks. With a last glance over her shoulder, she stumbled off, disappearing into the undergrowth.

  They watched her go, then Megan took the stone and shoved it under a bush.

  Emery slid out his dagger—not that he’d do much good. He had never really been a fighter. He focused his Empathy, preparing to control those he could.

  Alec slid his sword free. “What’s the plan?”

  “You will all go to Faylinn,” a voice answered.

  General Kael Trividar stood at the edge of the clearing, his sword out and a confident sneer on his face. “Dead or alive,” he said. “It makes little difference to me.”

  ***

  Emery’s head thrummed as he teetered on the edge of consciousness. The bruising from the Rol’dan’s fist had already swelled. Every time he flared his Empathy, the soldier violently reminded him to keep it put away.

  He hoped Alec could hold his own with Kael, maybe even escape. There was little chance for the rest of them, and Taryn would need his help.

  “Fire!”

  A volley of arrows flung into the blur of the sword fight, and the two figures flashed into normal view. Alec fell to the ground thrashing, while Kael grasped his arrow-pierced leg.

  “Idiots!” Kael yelled.

  The Accuracy archers turned white.

  “Forgive us, General. We couldn’t see properly.”

  Kael yanked the arrow free and hurled it to the ground. He then grabbed Alec by the hair and pulled him, legs kicking, toward where Hakan, Garrick, and Megan were bound.

  Alec gritted his teeth. “You son of a—”

  Kael kicked him in the face.

  Soldiers tied Alec’s hands and feet and threw him next to the others. Several grunts turned Kael’s attention toward Maska and two soldiers failing miserably at trying to restrain him.

  “Lieutenant, why can’t you control this savage?”

  “Sir,” the soldier huffed, “he’s much stronger than we expected.”

  “Break his legs if you’re too weak to hold him. And while you
’re at it, break his arms as well. We’ll see how he struggles when he can no longer move.” Kael stepped closer to Maska. “How does that sound, Tala-swine?”

  Maska remained silent, his face an expressionless mask.

  “Nothing, then? How disappointing.”

  Kael nodded toward a burly soldier whose eyes glowed red with Strength. The soldier stepped in front of Maska and gave a small snort of laughter. In one swift movement, he pulled a mace, swung back, and contacted with Maska’s right leg with a resounding crack.

  Maska buckled over.

  His captors pulled him upright, and the soldier raised the mace over his head—much like driving a tent spike—and smashed Maska’s other leg.

  Emery shut his eyes with the sound of crunching bone. We’ve come so far to be stopped now. He opened his eyes to see them repeat the process on Maska’s arms. After they’d finished, Maska lay in the grass, his limbs at odd angles, and his emotions focused on pain alone. Emery’s stomach lurched, his heart aching. Oh, Maska.

  “Your freedom was short-lived, Cadogan,” Kael said. “It’s a shame you brought your friends into this. See the suffering you’ve caused.”

  Emery's hands shook. “You’re the one in charge of these men. Not me. You’re just a puppet of the king.”

  “Puppet, eh? Wait until you get back to Faylinn. We’ll see who’s the puppet.” Kael’s smirk flattened. “But of course, you already know what the king can do.”

  Kael turned from Emery and froze, his emotions lightened with shock. “Who did this?”

  Alec sat up, still bound, but completely healed. Megan was near him, her hands still tied, but her chin raised. Not that he wanted Alec to suffer, but Emery cringed. Megan, what have you done?

  “I didn’t order anyone to heal him.” Kael swept his eyes over the other prisoners, stopping as he locked on Megan. He grabbed her arm and yanked her to standing. “Free her.”

  An Accuracy Rol’dan sliced the ropes at her wrists.

  Kael’s eyes roamed her body. He picked up a lock of her mud-caked hair and rubbed it between his fingers. Emery’s blood surged.

  She jerked her hair free.

  “I remember you from Alton,” Kael said. “You helped free Cadogan.”

  She glowered in silence, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “And if I’m not mistaken, you healed your little friend over here as well.” He tore open the fabric of his breeches nearly to his hip to reveal an arrow wound on his upper thigh. “While you are at it, heal me as well.”

  “Go get it elsewhere,” Megan said.

  “You will heal me. Or else watch one of your friends die.”

  That got her attention; she glared at him and reached for his face, flaring the light of her Shay. But before she touched him, he grabbed her wrist and shoved it through the tear in his breeches onto his bare thigh.

  “Now heal me,” he said. “And perhaps I’ll let you touch me more.”

  The circle of Rol’dan soldiers laughed.

  Megan didn’t speak, but her jaw shook. She brought forth her Healing, and when the light faded from her eyes, she wrenched her hand away.

  Kael laughed. But when her eyes darted to Maska, his smile vanished. “If you go anywhere near him, I’ll kill him.”

  He motioned toward one of the soldiers. The man bound Megan again and pushed her to where the others sat on the ground.

  “You’re a coward, Trividar,” Alec said.

  A mask of curious indifference spread over Kael’s face, but his emotions seethed.

  “It’s easy to act all brave and smug when your men surround you,” Alec said.

  Kael pulled his sword and rested it on Alec’s throat. Alec didn’t flinch; he stared at Kael, challenging him.

  Kael studied him before finally turning to one of his men. “Bring me his sword.”

  “Sir?” the man said.

  “His sword. Bring it to me.”

  The soldier returned with Alec’s sheath. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, General, sir, but the king said—”

  “Then don’t.”

  “Don’t what, sir?”

  “Don’t speak.”

  The soldier said nothing else, his eyes downcast as he handed the weapon to Kael.

  Kael slid Alec’s sword free, examined it, and plunged it into the ground next to the bound boy. It quivered back and forth before resting still. “Your father’s work has improved, if that’s possible. I will be keeping it once you’re dead.”

  “You can take a closer look at it in your chest,” Alec replied.

  Kael laughed. “I’ve defeated you before, boy. Only this time, no one will heal you.”

  “And if I win?” Alec jumped over his bound hands and cut the ropes on his wrists with the impaled sword.

  “Then you will impress the king. Which is rare.”

  “If I win, you’ll free us.” Alec pulled the sword from the ground and sliced the ropes at his ankles.

  “If you kill me—and, of course, all of my soldiers here—then you may certainly go free.”

  “Alec, you don’t need to do this,” Hakan said.

  “Of course he does,” Kael said as he shrugged off his cape. “It’s in his blood. He was bred to fight. It’s no wonder he wants to die in battle.” He bowed slightly. “And far be it from me to ignore his death calling.”

  Both Alec and Kael’s eyes blazed golden-yellow. Alec threw the rope fragments aside. In what appeared to be the blink of an eye, the battle began in a flurry of ringing metal and a billowing cloud of dust.

  All stared in silence, following the blur of the fight. Emery flinched as a splatter of blood hit his face. They held their breaths, waiting. Would Alec win? The fight ended abruptly at the tip of Kael’s sword.

  Kael yanked the blade free from Alec’s chest; Alec’s sword fell from his hand, and he slowly crumpled to the ground.

  Megan screamed and lunged toward him. Two soldiers grabbed her arms, not letting her near.

  By Brim. No … no … NO! Numbness enveloped Emery. He scanned Alec with his Shay and drew in a sharp breath. Determination and courage—just like his mother. Alec’s emotions pulsed the same as his mother’s when she died. And he would die. Unless Alec could get healing, he didn’t stand a chance.

  “You fight well, young Deverell,” Kael said softly, a strange mixture of pity and finality in his emotions. He knelt next to Alec.

  Alec trembled. “Y … you are n … nothing.” He gritted his teeth. “Nolan is t … ten times the man you are.”

  Kael studied him. “Yes. He is.” And then he rammed his sword into Alec’s chest once more.

  Alec’s body tensed, and he collapsed limply, releasing a long, slow breath.

  Megan’s sobs echoed through the silence. Emery scanned Alec but felt no fear. To his horror, he felt nothing at all.

  Kael stared at Alec briefly, yanked his sword free, and tossed it off to the side in the gently waving grass. The birds chirped. The branches of the trees rustled. And no one spoke a word. With effort, Kael stood, picked up Alec’s sword, and shoved it into his own sheath.

  An angry gash dripped blood from his thigh. He flicked his arm, splattering blood on the ground from another wound on his shoulder. An old Healer ran up to him, but Kael brushed him away and limped toward Emery.

  “Where’s the stone, Cadogan?”

  Emery’s mind reeled. “You killed him.”

  “Of course I did,” Kael said. “I did him a favor.” He leaned in close. “He won’t have to suffer under the king like you will.”

  “You can go to the Darkness,” Emery hissed.

  Kael smiled, though his emotions were quite the opposite. “Don’t worry. I’ll get there eventually. But for now, you’ll tell me where that stone is, or I’ll choose another to join your young friend.”

  “It’s not here,” Emery said.

  “He’s lying, General,” The Healer said. “I can feel it. It’s close.”

  Kael wheeled toward the man. “Well then, find i
t, Tiohan!”

  The Healer, Tiohan, flinched and made a direct route to the edge of the clearing toward a group of bushes lined in a row, exactly where they’d stashed the stone.

  At least Taryn is gone. He hoped the girl had hidden far enough away.

  Tiohan whooped in victory and emerged from the brush with the Stone of Healing in hand. As much as he hated to see them find it, he was almost relieved. They had no reason to follow Taryn.

  “I have it, General.” Tiohan’s face twisted with glee.

  “Give it to me,” Kael said.

  “W-what?”

  “You heard me, Captain. Give it to me.”

  Tiohan trudged to him and reluctantly handed over the stone. Kael turned it in his palm and shoved it into a pouch at his waist. Tiohan continued to stare at the pouch like a starving man.

  “Let’s get moving,” Kael said.

  “But, General?”

  “Heal me.” He glared at the old man, daring him to say another word.

  Tiohan nodded, his old face frail. “Yes, my general.” Head lowered and shoulders slumped, he touched Kael’s arm and healed his wounds.

  “What about the boy?” a soldier asked.

  “Leave him.”

  The soldiers yanked Emery past Alec’s body. Emery searched it with his Shay one last time and felt nothing. His eyes locked on Hakan; he could hear Alec’s heart if he were still alive. But Hakan’s sorrow-filled face confirmed his fears: Alec Deverell was dead.

  Maska yelled as they dragged him across the ground, too injured to help them at all.

  Taryn was safe, at least for now. But a young, pretty girl had little chance of traveling safely on her own. She was their last hope, the only person who could tell the others what had happened. And it would be weeks before she could get home.

  There would be no help.

  They would have to live—or, more likely, die—on their own.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  THE THRONE ROOM hadn’t changed. It held little décor; Alcandor didn’t care for that sort of thing. A large, oak throne sat at the head of the hall, and a plethora of old, oversized weapons hung on the wall behind it.

  Emery looked up as they pushed him inside. The web-like beams hovered above him, like the temple at the ruins. Except here, no sunlight streamed through, no birds built their nests, and no Stones of Brim radiated light onto the floor. The ceiling had been sealed with stone long ago. The only light came from a few scattered torches on the walls.