by C. Night
Liem grinned at him. “I see.”
Rhyen’s ears were burning, and he wished with all his might that he had never met Dawsliem Day. He was momentarily glad for Caliena’s preoccupation, and he hoped that before she turned back his ears would cease flushing. Quickly he plowed on. “Liem is going to help us… sort out the Zirite soldiers, Caliena.” Rhyen hesitated, wondering what to tell her. To cover his pause he hastily added, “He was a guard for the king.” Rhyen’s tone was a little rougher than usual.
It seemed she was having difficulty listening to him because it took her a long time to reply. “A guard?” she asked in her sweet little voice.
“Actually, I was a soldier in the king’s service, Caliena, but now I spy for him in the King’s Eyes,” Liem clarified.
“Oh!” said Caliena, obviously impressed. She frowned a little. “Are you here to spy on us?”
Liem smiled at her innocence. “No, I’m coming to help you. The king is not well, Caliena, so he can’t offer assistance. But I can offer you resources through my network of contacts in any country we travel, as well as my battle skillset.” He was still holding her hand.
Caliena stared at Liem as though mesmerized. “Oh,” she said again. “Wait, what’s wrong with the king? And where are we traveling?” She turned her head ever so slightly toward Rhyen, as though seeking an explanation, but her eyes stayed locked on the Liem’s.
Before Liem could answer, Rhyen replied. “He’s… enchanted. I’ll tell you all about it later. And we’re not traveling anywhere,” he added, his aggravation rising as he looked accusingly at Liem. A shadow of comprehension moved over Liem’s face, and he nodded at Rhyen, understanding that Caliena was not a part of the mission.
She tore her eyes from Liem’s face. It took her a second to focus on Rhyen. “What was the Palace like?”
“I’ll tell you about that too. Now, come on, I promised you a walk, remember?” Rhyen gestured to the door. Caliena glanced back at Liem.
Liem’s eyes were amused as they darted to Rhyen, then he kissed Caliena’s hand again. His lips lingered over her knuckles longer than Rhyen thought necessary. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Caliena. I hope to see you again.” He gave her back her hand gently, nodded to Rhyen, and gracefully made his way out the door. Caliena watched him go, her lips slightly parted, her cheeks still a little pink. She continued to stare at the door even after he left.
After a moment, Rhyen took her by the hand and pulled gently, annoyed that she had forgotten him. His annoyance surprised him. “Do you still want to go for that walk?” he said, trying to push his confusion aside.
Caliena started again and looked at Rhyen. “Yes! Yes, of course,” she said, giving her head a little shake. As they began to walk, she returned to her normal self, and, eyes shining, she asked Rhyen, “Were there a hundred stairs of gold? Avarek told me there were—and a garden made of diamonds!”
Rhyen smiled, pleased she was herself again. “It was jade, actually. And yes, one hundred stairs of gold. But you should have seen this fountain, Callie, it was a gift from the sirens.”
“Mermaids?” she exclaimed with delight.
As they walked, he described to her the wonders of the Palace. She listened, gasping at the splendor of it all. Then Caliena presented the brown wrapped package to Rhyen. “Happy Name day!” She watched him excitedly as he opened the present, eagerly searching his face for his reaction. It was a strange object—a pair of spectacles, but with strange shaped black lenses.
“Try them on,” Caliena enthusiastically demanded, and she helped him settle them over his ears. Rhyen was astounded. The bright white sunlight that reflected blindingly from the road was darkened as though a cloud had moved over the sky. Rhyen’s face relaxed as he found he no longer needed to squint against the bright light.
“This is incredible,” he declared, lifting them over his eyes and squinting again at the sudden brightness. He flicked them back down and enjoyed the now comfortable daylight. “What are they?”
“Sun spectacles—in case you ever have to cross the Guntorien desert again,” she added with a laugh.
Rhyen was touched, and he reached out and fondly ran the back of his fingers down her cheek. “Thank you,” he said, quietly and sincerely. “They’re perfect.”
She flushed with pleasure and gave Rhyen the happiest smile he had ever seen. He grinned back, but looked quickly away, swallowing hard. How was he going to leave her tomorrow?
* * *
They enjoyed a quiet dinner that night. Afterwards, they lounged in the great room. It was very peaceful. Thom and Cazing were sitting just before the balcony, smoking and talking in low voices. Avarek was teaching Caliena Blostendine. There seemed to be many conflicting rules, and she was laughing as she kept getting them confused. Avarek was even smiling, his pointed teeth flashing as he chuckled softly at her. Rhyen was watching them, lost in thought as he mentally prepared for their dangerous journey tomorrow, and trying not to imagine Caliena’s face when she realized she would not be going with them. They were to leave at first light. Liem was not to join them until dawn the following morning, and so they were all surprised when he burst through Thom’s door at full speed.
“We need to leave,” he shouted breathlessly. He slammed the blue silk-covered door behind him. “Now.” He was serious and nervous, and his fear rolled through the room before him like a storm cloud. The pleasant atmosphere instantly evaporated. Everyone stared at him. There was stunned silence for a heartbeat, and in that time Liem’s fear affected them all.
Rhyen and Avarek jumped out of their seats. “What happened?” they said together.
Liem ran his hands wildly over his head. “The Zirites have made their move. The king has fallen.”
Cazing gasped. There was another terrible silence as they all stared horrified at the soldier. Then an awful sound began, softly at first though steadily gaining in volume, a panicked rhythmic clanging in the distance, carried in through the balcony on the salty breeze.
Thom jerked his head up. “The warning bells!”
“We must leave!” Liem strode across the room and grasped Rhyen by the shoulder. “They’re coming for you!”
“No!” Cazing shouted.
“What’s happening?” Caliena demanded in a hushed voice, and she ran to Rhyen and seized his arm. “Who is coming for you?”
“The Zirites,” Rhyen whispered. He grabbed Caliena’s hand. If the soldiers were coming here, it was no longer safe for any of them. They had been planning on leaving Thom and Caliena behind, but that was no longer an option. “We have to go,” Rhyen said wildly. “All of us, now!” Cazing nodded, his eyes sparkling dangerously.
Liem quickly looked around the room. “Everyone get your things as fast as possible. We leave in five.”
Avarek helped his father struggle to his feet. Thom looked too stricken to process anything. “Father?”
The wizened old gnome looked with dark eyes at his son. “Dismiss the servants. Tell them to flee as far from this place as possible.” He closed his eyes—his wooden face was pulled into a deep uncertain frown. “But have the grooms saddle all the horses first.”
Avarek nodded and in a flash was through the door between bookcases. Cazing followed him, double-checking in his bag for the shard of Stone as he went. Rhyen pulled Caliena through the room and in his haste practically dragged her up the stairs to their bedrooms—his legs were long enough to take the stairs four at a time, and Caliena stumbled hurriedly behind him.
“Rhyen! Where are we going? I don’t understand!” She was panting when they reached the landing.
He spun around and took her small face in his hands. “I’ll explain everything later,” he said seriously. “But now, get your things—only what you can carry!—and meet me right here in two minutes.”
She nodded, eyes wide, and dashed into her suite. Rhyen burst into his ro
om and grabbed his rucksack—fortunately, he hadn’t thought to unpack much, and what he did he could easily leave behind—and was back in seconds. When Caliena emerged, he took her hand, and they fled down the stairs.
Liem was helping Thom, who was now holding two small bags in his brown hairy hands.
“We’ve been prepared for this moment for months,” he croaked, “and had emergency packs ready. Avarek and I will lead you through the underground.”
Liem stuck his head out the door, the clanging of the warning bells growing louder without the barrier, and mingling with screams. Rhyen smelled smoke. Liem held up his hand and looked carefully around the street. Then he jerked his fingers at them, and Caliena rushed forward, followed by Rhyen who, after an apologetic bow, simply picked up the old gnome and hurried after her, cradling the frail old body in his arms.
“I’m sorry, Thom,” he murmured as he paced forward. “But we have to hurry.”
“I understand, Sorcerer,” Thom said quietly.
They kept in the shadows as they crept to the stables. Liem snagged the reins of his black stallion along the way, whom he had left in front of the house. The horse was a disciplined war animal, and though his eyes rolled white in his head and his ears flicked nervously at the noise and smells, he picked his way forward almost silently, never issuing any whinny. They encountered no one, but screams of terror and pain were riding on every breath of wind. Rhyen glanced over his shoulder. The Palace—the whole fourth level—was burning. Rhyen would never forget the sight of the crumbling Palace consumed in flames, stark and blinding against the night sky.
Avarek and Cazing were helping the grooms and other servants to saddle the horses. The staff looked terrified, but worked quickly and efficiently. Avarek saw Rhyen with his father, and waved his long-fingered hands at them. “Here,” he said in a strained voice.
Rhyen gently deposited the old gnome on a red roan. Avarek took the bags from his father and searched him worriedly. Thom grabbled at the reins. His hands were shaking.
Rhyen turned to find Caliena already mounted on Respen, who nervously picked up his hooves. Rhyen swung onto Cinnamon, and she nickered softly at him. He looked around to find the servants slipping quietly away as fast as their legs would take them. Cazing was mounted, as was Liem.
“We need to get beyond the third gate before they give orders to close it. From there, we can take the tunnels beneath the city down through the levels,” Avarek ordered crisply as soon as he was seated on his white horse.
“I planned in an escape route when I designed the underground,” Thom proclaimed, his face regaining composure. “It is secret, and the Zirites will not find us there. We must get to the second level.” He dug his heels into the roan and the horse jumped forward. The others followed, and the rattling clatter of the horses’ hooves on the stone streets was lost in the noise of rebellion.
Rhyen and Cazing took up the rear. As they disappeared around the first corner, they saw the firelight, bright even this far away from the Palace, glinting off the silver shields of a dozen soldiers, a solid mass of spears and swords and red and black. The Zirites had arrived at Thom’s house.
They fled in a terrified gallop, and Rhyen gave a great sigh of relief when they arrived at the main avenue and he saw that the gates were still open. All six horses pounded their way toward it. It was so close, no more than a few houses away.
“We’re going to make it!” he shouted to his master.
But then a whizzing noise flew past his ear, burning side of his cheek. “Ah!” He yelled, putting a hand up to his face. When he drew it back, it was covered in blood.
Another whizzing sound, and Rhyen understood. They were being fired upon.
The Zirites were behind them, charging on their sleek warhorses. They were far—too far to catch them, but they loosed arrows again and again into the band of fleeing horses. Terror had seized Rhyen now. He glanced sideways at his master. Cazing was staring forward at the gates as if his life depended on it. One more house, then they were at the gate—they were through.
“Help me!” The old sorcerer shouted at his apprentice as he wheeled Brefen sharply around. “Close the gates!”
Rhyen reined in Cinnamon and let the numbness take his mind. “Close!” he demanded, and the gates, massive iron behemoths, began to drag across the stone road, making deep gouges in the streets where they travelled. Cazing was focused as well, and the gates were closing, slowly but surely. The others halted and turned back, watching the sorcerers. The soldiers were still a house away—they were going to do it, going to close the gates in time!
But then Rhyen heard a sudden increase in the screaming, and his eyes flicked away from the gate as he saw several houses in the third sector suddenly go up in flames. In the closest house, he saw a woman trapped, shrieking as she was barred inside the burning house, pounding on the window glass. Rhyen gasped. They couldn’t close the gates—what about the people inside? He hesitated for a second, but that was all it took—his spell flickered and dropped, and his gate ceased moving. He felt his heart plunge into his stomach. The iron doors of the gate were still feet apart, and the Zirites were closing in quickly. Rhyen tried to clear his mind, but the numbness was gone—all he could see was the woman, on fire now and sliding down the window, trapped and dying inside her own house.
“No!” Cazing cried, but it was too late—the first Zirite triumphantly bounded through the gate, his knees just scraping the sides of the iron bars.
Chapter 28
The Zirite charged down upon them, his red and black banner flying out behind him. He pulled out a sword as he galloped close to Cazing.
“Cazing!” Rhyen bellowed, plunging his heels into Cinnamon and urging her forward. But suddenly Liem was there, and his sword blocked the other just before the blade could come crashing down on the old sorcerer.
Rhyen began to smile at the reinforcement, but then Cinnamon lurched to her knees mid-stride and he was flung over her neck. He landed on his back, flat on the cobblestones. Cinnamon was screaming as frightened horses do, and she fell to her side, kicking her feet wildly out. Rhyen rolled over and opened his mouth in horror as he saw two arrows protruding deeply from within her chest. Her eyes rolled, terrified, and her movement made the blood spurt from her wounds. It was dripping down her beautiful coat, blending in with the red-feathered arrows.
“Cinnamon!” But then a third arrow, and a fourth, sank into her exposed belly, and the horse abruptly went still, her bloodied tongue dripping red froth onto the white cobblestones, her empty eyes reflecting only firelight.
Rhyen staggered to his feet, eyes wide as he stared at his dead horse. He was breathing heavily. His Opposite was raring up inside him, and he was almost overcome with grief and rage.
“Look out!” screamed Caliena from further down the street, and Rhyen spun around—he was face-to-face with a red and black clad soldier bearing down on him. The Zirite was wearing a wickedly delighted grin and armed with a bow nocked with a red-feathered arrow.
Rhyen saw his weapon and seethed with anger and decision. He flung up his hands and snarled, “Stop!” The magic raged through him. It was so easy—the difficulty he had with clearing his mind only moments ago was forgotten, and the cold churned eagerly within his being. He clenched his teeth and, eyes burning, stared at the oncoming soldier. Instantly, the Zirite froze, his horse locked still mid-gallop, front hooves raised in the air. The Zirite, with his elbow pulled back with the nocked arrow, was unable to move, and only his eyes flitted back and forth with dizzying rapidity, terror shining in them. Rhyen felt his magic pulse powerfully within him, and he kept the soldier there, focusing his rage until even the eyes went still.
Rhyen was so angry, and his grief over Cinnamon, and his lonely confusion, encouraged his rage. He reached out with his wielding and completely encompassed the soldier, clenching his magical hold tighter. Then he felt a new pulsing, a frighte
ned, quick beating that came from within the Zirite’s chest—his racing heart. Rhyen tightened his grip on the vital organ and coldly compressed his magic further, all the while focused on that one word: “Stop.” He waited until the soldier’s heart stopped beating, until it burst with a silent pop within the frozen chest. Only when the light went from his eyes did Rhyen release him. The Zirite fell dead from his saddle and landed with a crash on the cobblestones. His horse’s hooves struck down to the ground and, flaring wide its nostrils, it pounded by Rhyen and down the dark street.
Rhyen looked down at the man with cold pleasure. He surprised himself by the depth of his rage and the hard bitterness of victory. He should have been stunned, or disgusted, or repentant—he had just killed a man. But he felt only a triumph and justice as he stood there, staring down at the dead man. He looked over his shoulder. Two more mounted soldiers let their drawn swords fall helpless to their sides as they stared, horrified, at the sorcerer.
“Why are you searching for me?” Rhyen asked coldly. His voice sounded like anyone’s save his own. It was low and calculating and merciless. Rhyen understood that it was his Opposite taking over, but he didn’t struggle to recover himself. His Opposite felt good. He felt powerful and strong, and was pleased by the fear in their eyes.
When they didn’t answer him, Rhyen laughed angrily. “Then you can die too,” he hissed. He remembered the burning woman in the window and looked at the house. It was entirely consumed in flames. His Opposite boiled inside him. “Burn” he commanded, his anger rampant. He raised his hands at them. Instantly, the soldiers screamed as flames roared around them, and the horses reared in fright. His Opposite was almost entirely in control of his mind…
