Catalyst (Book 1)

by Marc Johnson

  “He's right,” Prastian said. “Something's wrong here, and we've got to find out what it is and what happened to the previous team that was sent here.”

  “I was just trying to—”

  “I know what you were trying to do, Hellsfire. In normal times, I would applaud you for it and even be as charitable as you. We haven't that luxury now. In all my visits to Alexandria, I've never seen conditions this bad. King Furlong wouldn't allow it. We can help the most by finding out what’s behind this.”

  I let go of my purse and sighed, feeling my anger and flame subside. He was right. This wasn’t why I came here, and my money would only help a few people for a short time. My vision had sent me here, but it was going to take more than magic to figure out what was wrong in Alexandria. I was suddenly very glad to have the elves with me.

  “What can we do, Prastian?” I asked.

  Prastian kept his eyes in front, trying not to dwell on the misery around us. “We do what King Sharald sent us to do. If the opportunity arises, we do more.”

  “All right. I'll follow your lead.”

  I glanced one last time at the mother and her child. Our eyes met, and she cried out for my help and some coin. I shook my head and said I was sorry. She spat at my feet. I bit down on my lip and turned my head away.

  We continued on. As we moved up toward the castle, our surroundings became more prosperous—clearly the homes of merchants and craftsmen. The buildings were square and utilitarian, as if everything had to be useful and practical, and no one had time for frippery. Maybe that was what life was like when your whole reason for being was to fight a war that never ended. Even here, though, there were signs of decay and disrepair—crumbling mortar, sagging roofs, and peeling paint. As we passed a tavern, Prastian said softly, “I don’t like this.”

  “Don’t like what?” Demay asked.

  Prastian lowered his voice even further. “The taverns shouldn’t be full at this time of day. And many of these men are soldiers—you can tell by their bearing and the way they move. They should be on duty—either here in the city, or out on patrol. Why are they out of uniform, with nothing to do?”

  I stared at the patrons at the courtyard tables. Most of them looked drunk, though it was still well before sunset, and they were not happy drunks. They held onto their mugs too tightly. They nursed their drinks, staring sullenly into them instead of buying more. No one joked; no one laughed.

  “Should we go talk to them, Prastian?” I asked.

  “Later, if we have the chance. I want to see the castle and the condition it’s in, and hear what King Furlong will say.”

  The closer we got to the castle, the better things looked. The homes were taller, stronger, and sturdier, as most of them were made of stone. Gates surrounded a few of them. When we passed a portly man with hired guards in tow, I realized we must be in the wealthy section of Alexandria, where the nobles lived.

  We walked through a large square. In the center was a statue of Alexander, the city’s founder, fighting an ogre and two goblins. It was an amazing sculpture, showing the fierce determination that had characterized Alexandria and its people ever since. But the surrounding grass was yellow and overgrown, and bird droppings decorated Alexander’s face, as if no one cared any longer about upholding his legacy. My stomach felt cold, and my fear for Krystal increased.

  Right outside the castle gates, one more building caught my eye. It pulled at me, forcing me to stop. It was the temple of the four gods. The low rectangular building looked ancient, as ancient as the castle, but it was the only clean, sparkling thing I had seen in the entire city. The sun reflecting off its shining alabaster walls nearly blinded me. Etched into the white pillars lining the entrance were the gods’ symbols, representing the different kinds of mana. While the temple was beautiful in its own right, no one but a wizard would sense the magic beating in the symbols. I took a step forward, drawn to the god Emery’s symbol of fire. Someone tugged on my sleeve.

  “Hellsfire,” Demay said.

  “What? Oh.” I snapped out of my trance. Before I turned away from the temple, I saw that the brothers and sisters who served the gods were on the steps, handing out bread. I smiled, glad to see that there were still those trying to help.

  When we approached the castle gates, we were challenged by the Castle Guard blocking our way.

  “State your business,” one of them said.

  “We’re here to see King Furlong,” Prastian said. “Sent as a delegation from King Sharald.”

  The guard glowered at Prastian, and for a moment I thought they would refuse us entry. Then one of his companions stepped forward. “Prastian! It’s been a long time since I last saw you.”

  “Hello, Jerrel. How’s the family?”

  Jerrel’s jaw tightened for a second. “Fine, thanks for asking.” His face relaxed. “I’m sorry not to give you a warmer welcome. Please enter. I’ll just let the King know you’re arriving.” He nodded to another guard, who ran towards the castle.

  “Thank you,” said Prastian. He paused. “Have any other elves passed through here lately? I was hoping to meet some of my kinsmen here.”

  Jerrel shook his head. “Not in the castle. There haven’t been any since the last time you were here.”

  “Thanks, Jerrel. I’m sorry I didn’t bring any goodies this time around. Next time I see you, I promise I’ll bring something for your children.”

  “Thank you, Prastian. Always a pleasure to see you.” He waved us through the open gates. As we passed through the portcullis, the guards eyed me, probably wondering why I was with a bunch of elves.

  “Jerrel said he hadn’t seen the other elves Sharald sent,” Demay said. “Think he was telling the truth?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Which means we have bigger problems,” Behast said.

  “Yes. Keep your ears sharp.”

  As we headed up the hill towards the inner keep, we passed by the royal stables, barracks, and workshops. Eventually, we ended up in a large courtyard. Hedges outlined paths for us to walk. In the center was a large marble fountain. On top of it stood a crouching dragon, reminiscent of Cynder. Water poured constantly from his mouth. I smiled, wondering what Cynder would think of this. Dragons were creatures of fire, not water.

  We were just outside the keep. It rose into the skies like a giant, the setting sun turning its white walls a delicate pink. But there was nothing delicate about the heart of Alexandria. Its towers seemed to pierce the clouds.

  Although there weren’t many guards on the outer walls of the city, the castle ground crawled with them. Guards blocked our way at the entrance to the keep, challenging us. Prastian negotiated our way in, showing them a special seal given to him by King Sharald.

  My heart began to beat faster. Not because of the guards who stared suspiciously at us, but because of the princess. Was she all right? Would I be able to see her? I had no doubt that Prastian would get us an audience with the king, but would Krystal be there?

  “You’ll have to leave your weapons here,” a guard said.

  “Is something wrong?” Prastian asked. “Normally, we would relinquish our weapons outside the audience chambers.”

  “New rules. If you want to enter the keep, you’ll have to go unarmed.” The guards’ bodies tensed, as if they expected us to oppose them. Maybe even hoped we would.

  Behast’s hand moved to his sword hilt.

  Prastian smiled at the guards. “As you wish.” He took off his weapons, and Demay and Behast followed suit. I left my dagger where it was, under my wizard’s robe. The guards didn’t find it when they patted us down, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Prastian would not be pleased if I caused an incident. I was sure I wasn’t the only one with a hidden weapon.

  With our entrance into the castle achieved, our journey had finally ended. However, the mystery and danger had just begun.

  CHAPTER 12

  The guard escorted us down a long hallway. My feet didn’t make a sound on the th
ick red carpet. My heart beat so loudly it drowned out Prastian's conversation with the guard. I wiped the sweat from the sides of my cheeks. I was so close to Krystal, but would I be able to see her? If I could just see if she was all right, I would breathe a little easier. I didn’t know if I would get to talk to her. I hadn’t told the elves that I had once met the princess, or that she owed me a debt. I wasn’t sure I wanted them to use that for their own political advantage.

  I shook my head. I had to remember I wasn’t here just for her. King Sharald had sent me here for a purpose, and I had agreed to help his cause. Something was wrong with Alexandria. The creatures from the Wastelands should not be getting through. There were also the missing elves to think about. I flexed my fingers until my knuckles cracked. How in the Inferno was I going to handle all of this?

  The hallway ended in the throne room. There was no one sitting on the great throne.

  “Wait here,” the guard said. “The king will be here shortly.”

  Behast grunted, standing with his arms crossed. “I don’t like this. Something has smelled bad since we entered the city, and I don’t mean the sewers.”

  “I’m excited!” Demay said. “I’ve never been here before. I wish it was under better circumstances, though.” His face grew sober for a moment, but he couldn’t remain serious for long. Almost immediately his eyes sparkled again, taking in the stained glass windows, the tapestries depicting famous battles, and the alabaster of warriors.

  The sun set and twilight deepened, and still we waited. Demay soon grew tired of paintings, stained glass windows, and statues. He shifted and fidgeted. Behast was as still as a statue, but his fingers kept trying to grab a phantom sword. I looked at every servant and guard who walked by, hoping it was the princess. I prayed she would recognize me, smile, and say everything was all right. She never came. Prastian was the calmest one of us all. He stood still and politely greeted everyone who walked by. He struck up a couple of conversations, trying to get information, but no one wanted to stop and chat.

  “You're getting nowhere, Prastian,” Behast said.

  Prastian smiled at the bigger elf. “That's not true. I've learned plenty of things. I’ve learned that everyone here is tense, and they’re looking over their shoulders as if they expect to be punished at any moment. More importantly, I've learned that no one's seen the other elves, and Jerrel hasn’t lied to us.”

  “Then where are they?” Demay asked.

  “I wish I knew, little brother. I wish I knew.” Prastian took a deep breath. “I can only pray to the gods the king knows and is able to help us.”

  “And where is the human king?” Behast asked. “Does he normally keep you waiting this long?”

  Prastian shook his head. “No, and that worries me. Even if the king were detained by a crisis, one of his advisors would normally come and greet us, offering refreshments. To ignore a direct envoy from another monarch is a grave breach of protocol.”

  As time passed, my empty stomach rumbled from the lack of food. All of us were so tired of waiting we didn't even have the energy to speak to each other anymore. Prastian gave up trying to talk to the people that came by. We just stood there, absorbed in our own thoughts.

  Finally, a guard came up to us and said, “The king will be here shortly.”

  Behast snorted.

  Before Behast could say anything, Prastian said in a pleasant voice, “Thank you. We know how busy kings can be.”

  The guard nodded and left.

  “Prastian,” an aged, sickly voice said. “It's good to see you again.” We all turned to see who it was.

  The king had entered through a door near the throne. He was dressed in white velvet, jewel-encrusted robes that flowed behind him in a train. The robes made him look small, and he walked as if he were weak and frail, not like a man who controlled the most vital pass between the Wastelands and Northern Shala. The king came forward and sat upon his throne. Dark purple circles surrounded his eyes. A dark form followed him through the door and stood obscured in the shadows.

  “Your Majesty,” Prastian said. We all dropped to one knee.

  “Prastian, my friend,” King Furlong said. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time. Too long. I've missed your company.” He managed a weak but sincere smile.

  “And I've missed yours, Your Majesty.”

  The king opened his mouth to speak, but a coughing fit seized him. He looked like he wouldn’t be able to stop. Servants moved in to help, but he got hold of himself and waved them away. He rubbed a silk cloth over his forehead. One of the servants brought him a cup of water.

  “Forgive the interruption.” King Furlong drank the water and sighed in relief. “There’s nothing like water to cure what ails you.” He took a deep breath before squinting at me. “Who is the human with you, Prastian? He’s strangely dressed for spring.”

  “He’s a friend and advisor of King Sharald’s, sire. Our king thought it best that he should come with us.”

  The king nodded. “Why are you here, Prastian?” Though he spoke to the elf, the king never took his eyes off me. Despite how sick he looked, his blue eyes were like a hawk's.

  “Our king sent us here to follow up on a delegation that was sent here before us. It's been weeks, and we've heard nothing from them.”

  The king leaned forward. “I've not seen any elves lately.”

  “Are you sure, Sire? They should have been here.”

  “I'm positive. I've not seen any elves.” The king glanced around the room, meeting the eyes of each guard and servant. They all shook their head no.

  My eyes met the king's, and I believed him.

  “Why did King Sharald send his elves here?” King Furlong asked.

  “Your Majesty, as of late we have encountered many creatures from the Wastelands in our forests, and have heard reports and rumors throughout the land of many more, wreaking havoc. We know some creatures are bound to get through into Northern Shala, but there haven’t been this many incidents since the War of the Wizards.”

  King Furlong inhaled, his wispy breath echoing through the great hall. An expression of worry came over his face. “I don’t understand, old friend. I’ve not heard of such reports.”

  A voice spoke from the shadows behind the throne. “That’s because there have been none, Sire.”

  The king gestured. “This is my advisor, Premier.”

  The man stepped out of the shadows and nodded. Premier wore robes similar to mine, though his were deep black. Not just black like mine were, or like someone’s hair or eyes. It was the darkest black I had ever seen—like it was made from the night and shadows. Our eyes met, and he feigned a smile. I did the same. There was something about him that made my hackles rise.

  Even though his skin was aged and hung from his body, Premier somehow didn’t look old. His body was as frail as the king’s, but there was an air of power about him. He looked as though he could remain alive and vital simply because he wished it.

  I extended my magical senses to see if Premier was a wizard. I closed my eyes, focusing on my power and trying to make it subtle, lest he deflect it and put his guards up. My mana brushed up against his skin, trying to detect some hint of power or see if he would block my attempt. I picked up nothing. That disturbed me. Unlike the elves, there wasn’t a wisp of mana there. Cynder carried red mana and Master Stradus blue. Even ordinary people carried a tiny hint of mana—their life force. Premier was like a void. If I didn’t know better, I would say he wasn’t even there. Or he was dead.

  I wished Master Stradus was here. Premier had too great an aura of power to be an ordinary human, but if he was a wizard, he hid his mana. I would need to see him perform some kind of spell to be sure.

  But wizard or no, advisor or no, vision or no, I didn’t trust him.

  I opened my eyes, and Premier smirked at me.

  “If he’s an advisor, he hasn’t been doing a very good job,” Behast said in a tone low enough for only us to hear. I had to strain my ea
rs, though the elves had an easy time hearing him with their long ears.

  “Premier, is there any truth to what our forest friends say?” King Furlong asked, turning an eye to his advisor.

  Premier leaned in and whispered in King Furlong’s ear. The elves’ ears twitched, but from the look of frustration on Demay’s face, they heard nothing. The king started coughing again, but I still sensed no magic. I needed to know more about Premier.

  Then, from the corner of my eye, I caught movement that distracted me from Premier and King Furlong. I turned, and saw her. She took my magic and my breath away.

  Her sun-streaked hair had grown, flowing down her back from the small jeweled tiara she wore. She had grown up, as I had, as her snug blue satin dress made clear. She held herself upright, with an aura of strength as her shield. I stared at her, drinking in her face and body. She seemed physically all right, thank the gods. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything wrong.

  Behast elbowed me, bringing me back to the present. I remembered where I was and what we were in the middle of. My face heated up. Not only had I gotten distracted from our mission, but I’d been staring at the princess like a loutish farm boy.

  The king's intense gaze fastened on me. “This young man seems to have forgotten that we were speaking. It seems the princess is much more interesting than our conversation.”

  Now my face burned like fire. I’d insulted the king and the princess both, with one look. Had everyone noticed me gawking? My first impulse was to glance at the princess. I stopped myself. I wasn't going to find any help from her or my friends for my mistake. She might not even remember me. We had only met once, and it was years ago. I was a nobody from a village no one had even heard of. I knelt on one knee, staring at the seams in the stone floor.

  “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” I said.

  Prastian rescued me. “The princess’s beauty is legendary, but it cannot compare to the reality,” he said smoothly. “It seems that Hellsfire was temporarily overcome.”

  The king still did not look pleased. The princess stepped forward.