by Ronie Kendig
But there was no chance for him now, even with the use of his legs. In their eyes, he had neither mental strength nor character. They would never follow him. Strung up to a stake as the sun passed overhead, Haegan heard the hateful words spewed against him.
Cripple stole his sister’s legs, left her to rot.
Only a coward abandons those who love him.
Wanted to steal the crown.
Perhaps he’s colluding with Dyrth.
Then he’ll pay Dyrth’s price, too.
“Maybe he won’t make it back to Fieri Keep after all.” The new threat whispered on the wind and lured Haegan’s head up.
The strong thwap of a tent flap drew his gaze behind and to the right.
Lieutenant Mallius had emerged, his brow twisted tighter than Haegan had seen earlier. And that worried him. A lot. Especially when the oversized warrior started toward him.
Where was the captain? Or the general?
An arc of soldiers formed behind Mallius, the storming sea headed straight for Haegan. He tried to straighten, but it was a challenge in his position.
“It would do you well to give us something, Prince Haegan,” Mallius said, his voice low, “before the general comes. As one of the Three, he brings not only justice but judgment.”
Though his heart hammered, Haegan stood fast. Gwogh taught that hesitation kills—and there was no room for hesitation here. Haegan knew the Codes. “There is but one who can stand in judgment over me—the king.” It was true. He earnestly hoped it would be enough to fend off their malice.
Sniggers peppered the enlarging crowd as they encircled him.
“In combat,” Mallius boomed, “the general has the decree of the king to do as he must to extract information from any prisoner. Laejan will do what it takes to find out who set you against your own father! Your sister!”
Ah. They weren’t talking about legitimate judgment. “What you refer to here is not a writ of judgment, but physical discipline. Against a man without trial.” Abiassa, I beseech thee. “Punishment.” As understanding dawned, Haegan shifted, adjusting his hands once more to alleviate the pinch. “You mean to torture me.”
“The punishment for treason against the crown is death!” The lieutenant’s shout echoed across the open field, silencing the camaraderie of those huddled around the fire.
“And yet,” Haegan whispered, “my father has demanded I be returned alive.”
“He said nothing of how alive you had to be.” His meaty fist slammed into Haegan’s head, bouncing it against the stake. Spots danced across his vision as his knees wobbled beneath the spike of pain. “You have lost the right to call King Zireli your father. You betrayed them and you betrayed us all!”
“I betrayed no one!”
Mallius pressed in, taunting. “Remember your place, traitor!”
“I am no traitor. I fled—”
“You admit it!”
Haegan clamped his mouth shut as the young captain shouldered his way through the crowd. A storm had moved into the man’s eyes, one that quickened Haegan’s pulse. It would do no good to defend himself here. His words would be twisted and pushed back on him like a dagger through the heart.
The captain stood before him, staring down at him. “You admit that you fled the city and the condition you abandoned your sister to?”
The Jujak circled in like carrion birds.
Low songs wafted from the Ignatieri camp, drawing Haegan’s gaze. The accelerants had gathered in long lines before the Great Falls, candles flickering and hissing beneath the spray.
“You’ve broken Seultrian laws as well as Ignatieri principles, Prince Haegan.” The captain pointed to the accelerants. “They have asked us to surrender you to them, but Jujak answer only to the Fire King. And I will not fail our king in this quest to return his traitorous son. His honor demands it.”
“Honor—you speak of honor? The Jujak Code demands you act in honor, yet you string up a man whose guilt is not proven!”
“Man?” Someone guffawed, drawing laughter from the others.
The captain’s nostrils flared and his lips thinned. “Your guilt was determined by King Zireli. Dare you accuse him of lying? Of dishonor?”
“No!” Nearly choking, Haegan sagged against the pole. No, his father’s accusation was made out of sincere belief in his guilt. “By the Flames, no.” Once he had chosen a path, Zireli rarely diverged from it. But if Haegan could just talk to him . . . explain. “I will not speak to the charges until they have been formally brought and I am presented to my father-king.”
“Your sister is dying!”
Haegan started, mortified to hear of Kaelyria’s condition but also to hear the tremor in the captain’s voice. “Dying?”
A fierce fire raged through the officer’s face. He leaned into Haegan and held his gaze. Bored through him. His gray eyes pierced and amplified the fury so clearly roiling inside. “You have sentenced your own sister to her death!”
“No.” A wave of grief washed over Haegan. His gaze skimmed the surrounding crowd, past the sharp lines and ceremony of the Ignatieri, to the deep blue waters crashing into the pool beneath the moon’s dull glow. “If I can . . .” He must reach the Falls tomorrow. He had to. If he did not, he would never forgive himself and neither would his father. And perhaps even Kaelyria. If she lived.
But how? How could he when they held him captive?
Defeat pushed. Pressed him against the wood.
O sweet, foolish sister—your gift has become a curse. He hung his head, pained at the thought of her being ill. Of her dying because she wanted him to experience an adventure. Of her preparing herself to marry Jedric and give up the man she loved. A soldier named Graem. She’d mentioned their secret meetings and begged Haegan’s silence. Never had he seen her so happy and carefree as the times she spoke of the handsome Jujak.
“You think this a joke?” Mallius’s growl startled Haegan, and only then did he realize thoughts of Kaelyria had made him smile.
Another fist flew—but from a different guard. Connected with Haegan’s jaw. Snapped his neck back. Blood glanced across his tongue. Pooled at the back of his throat. He coughed, gagged on the metallic taste.
Another threw a punch.
A jav-rod poked through and stabbed his side.
Haegan cried out.
“Easy,” the captain ordered. “Hey—”
But the Jujak seemed to feed off Haegan’s pain and blood. Rocks. Fists. Kicks. Something connected with his eye.
“Stand down!” a booming voice ricocheted through the camp.
Around Haegan, the Jujak parted like waters at a boulder. General Laejan stormed across the field. With lips pressed into a thin line, he pivoted to his men. “Bed down before I tie every one of you to the stake. You are Jujak!”
“We serve. He wields. She rules!” the elite guards shouted in response.
“And you will conduct yourselves as such.” After the mob broke up, Laejan turned his gaze to the captain. “You’re Grinda’s son—I expected more!”
“Sir.”
Grinda’s son?
He motioned to the captain and Mallius. “Take him to the cages and lock him up. And make sure he’s secure!”
“Aren’t you going to question him?”
Once more Laejan glared at Haegan. Then to Haegan’s side, where a bloody spot stained his tunic. “He’s answered enough for now.” He looked to the captain. “Keep your guard in check or you’ll see my anger and the king’s. And it’s a warm summer breeze compared to the Fire King’s scorching wrath.”
Captain Grinda gave a curt. “Yes, sir.”
Secured between two Jujak and led by Mallius, Haegan made his way, limping and wincing toward a small line of mauri saplings cut in the same size and secured together to form cages. But stumbling aggravated the stab wound. He tried to favor it, holding a hand over the spot, and lost his balance. He dropped to a knee, jarring the injuries. Haegan cried out this time. Then gritted his teeth. Weakness would
only be made sport of among these warriors.
“Weakling. You’re a disgrace to the Celahar name,” Mallius growled as he resumed his pace.
Thumping and murmuring floated up over the dying din of the soldiers, once more drawing Haegan’s attention to the Ignatieri. To the Falls.
A jolt of fire hit his back. With a grunt, Haegan winced. Then felt the heat searing his skin.
“Fire!” the captain shouted. “He’s on fire!”
Haegan glanced over his shoulder and found his tunic aflame. He yelped. Reached backward.
“Roll on the ground!” Captain Grinda ordered, shoving him down, hands peppering his shoulders.
Arms bound, Haegan rolled and rolled. Maybe he could keep rolling all the way—
“Enough.” Mallius planted a boot on Haegan’s chest. “The flames are out. Get up.”
Haegan struggled to regain his knees with the awkwardness of being bound, but finally pushed one up to stand.
“Merciful—Blazes!” Captain Grinda exclaimed. “Look at his back!”
“We’ll have the healer tend him,” Mallius groused as he moved to look at Haegan’s back.
Silence.
Dead silence.
“Get the high marshal.”
40
Thiel sprinted away from the overlook, the others racing behind her. They made it to a narrow, curving trail when she spun around. Sorted the others and homed in on Drracien. Three sharp steps carried her to him. With both hands, she shoved Drracien backward. “What did you do?”
“I—”
“Burning him? Are you out of your mind?” Heat coursed through her, anger sped by the race of her pulse. “If we wanted him killed, we would leave him there for the Jujak!”
“I wasn’t trying to kill him.”
“No, just burn him alive,” Laertes shouted.
“Quiet,” Tokar bit out.
She couldn’t shake the image of Haegan on fire. Of seeing the small ember seize the fabric and grow exponentially. “Why would you do that?” She shoved him again. “I thought you were on our side.” A punch.
“Hey.”
“Were your words about who he was a ploy?” She flung her hands at him again.
Drracien caught them. Heat bloomed around her wrists.
Shocked, Thiel froze.
Immediately the heat was gone.
“You—you’re wielding against me now?” She set her right foot back, ready to fight.
This time, Drracien held up his hands. “Peace.” He inclined his head after that soft word. “Listen. I only sparked him.”
“Yes, thank you. We’s what got eyes saw that pretty well. We also saw him blow up in flames!”
“No.” Drracien looked to the boy, then back to Thiel. His eyes were pale beneath the moonlight. “No, Haegan wasn’t burned. The kind of spark I struck him with does not burn flesh. Only material.”
Thiel stilled. Blinked. “You . . . you can do that? I mean, it’s possible—”
“Yes.” Drracien pushed his hair from his face.
“But why? Why would you—did you do that?”
“They needed to see it.” He started hiking up the hill.
“See what?”
“The mark.”
“What mark?” Thiel kept pace with him, glancing back to make sure the others were still with them. “What are you talking about?” When he didn’t answer, only climbed higher, she grabbed his shoulder, ready to punch him again. “Blazes!”
Drracien stopped. But wouldn’t meet her gaze.
He’d always been direct. Blunt. But now he’d gone quiet. It . . . worried her. “What mark?” She shook her head, mentally scouring Haegan for marks. He didn’t have any. Unless . . . She opened her mouth. “His back. The bruise?”
After an almost imperceptible nod, he was moving again and still not speaking.
“Where are we going?” Tokar asked, frustration in his question.
“That bruise came from the fall.”
“It’s not a bruise. He didn’t fall.”
“I’m sorry to say you are quite wrong,” Thiel said as the incline leveled out and Drracien turned straight into a thick bramble of bushes and vines. Annoyed with his indifference and leading-the-way presumption, she lifted her booted feet over the vines. “I was there. We fell. I had the broken ankle to prove it.” Well, she’d had one for a little while.
“And wha’ do you mean it isn’ a bruise? I saw it wif me very eyes! All blue and gross.” Laertes hopped from one boulder to another. In fact, it seemed the ground had become nothing but rocks and moss and vines.
Frustration shoved her onward. Thiel lunged ahead of Drracien to get answers. To stop this madness. She hit a boulder—him.
Drracien held out a hand, stopped cold.
Hmph. Like she would listen to him when he wouldn’t listen to her. She threw herself forward.
“No!” A hand snaked around her shoulders. Snapped her back. In that instant, she realized her feet dangled over nothing but air. Misting, cold air. As a scream climbed her throat, she grabbed the only thing that held her from falling to her death—Drracien’s arm. Another hand clamped onto her mouth.
Shaking in the fist-hold of terror, Thiel peered down the length of her body and saw nothing but water, vanishing into a thick veil of mist.
Her palms grew sweaty. Her grip slipped.
She yelped, pure dread icing her veins.
“Quiet,” Drracien hissed—louder, out of necessity.
But terror had its firm grip on her brain. She struggled for ground. To scramble backward.
“Get her back, get her back!” Tokar was there, but not close enough.
“Easy,” Drracien whispered as he stepped back.
Thiel twitched her feet, searching for terra firma. Finally, they scraped rock. She slumped as he released her. She spun around and grabbed the sides of his tunic, eyes closed. Pressed her nose against his chest, unwilling to trust her trembling limbs to support her and keep her from falling into the mist.
With an arm around her shoulders, Drracien eased to the side. “It’s okay.”
She shuddered a breath, then sagged. Recovering, she lifted her head. Looked up at blue eyes. Without a word, she shoved backward. Drew herself straight, staring at the curtain of water. She glanced up, expecting to see a wall of water. Instead, she saw nothing. “It doesn’t make sense.” Where was the water coming from?
“Let me show you.” Drracien crossed a ledge that would be wide enough for four people to pass shoulder to shoulder, but with the moss and the slick rocks, it’d be dangerous to do so.
On the other side, he stepped up a small path. Pointed. “See for yourself.”
Thiel angled in front of him, once again sensing strange things. “What?”
But he didn’t need to tell her. From that spot, she saw it. No wider than her hand, rock formed a wall that soared upward in a glistening, roaring tumble of water. That created a channel, funneling the falls behind it. A gap would allow someone to stand on the ledge, but the width was no more than a couple of feet before it fell away. That’s where the waterfall roared through like a thick blanket. Water spit on her face as it blurred past. Dampness soaked her clothes and hair, but she didn’t care. It was refreshing and exhilarating!
“Amazing.” The wall protected the ledge they’d used to cross the narrow neck of the river, directing the flow into what basically was a spout, spewing the water down . . . down . . . down into the pool.
“Great sightseeing trip, but shouldn’t we be working on getting Haegan out?” Arms folded, Tokar glowered. “Not that I really want that singewood mucking up my life again.”
“Oy, great.” Laertes wagged his hands at them. “Water. It’s great. But what about the mark what Haegan got?”
With mist pluming before her eyes, suspended in the air above the pool, Thiel moved to the edge of the overhang.
“Thiel!”
A hand held out both reassured and silenced the others. Peeking over the side ne
arly sent the contents of her stomach hurtling down with the water. The queasy rush slowed as she steadied her breathing and held her balance. Her foot at the edge of the rock seemed so large compared to the pool, fifty feet below. Maybe sixty.
She understood. If they could get Haegan up here, he could jump into the water from the Falls. “What about the ritual?” Unable to take her eyes off the location, she took in the area. The way the trees seemed to reach around the waterfall with their branchy fingers. She’d always loved the satiny feel of water against her hands. Did the trees, too?
“It’s a farce,” Drracien said. “Maybe that’s too harsh of a word. It’s not necessary. They do the ritual to create a log of those who enter the Falls. Who gets healed. Who doesn’t.”
Thiel turned to him. “You are certain of this?”
“Nowhere in the Parchments is it written one must perform a ritual to get a miracle.”
“What, you’ve gone and read them all, ’ave you?” Laertes’s hair stuck to his brow, darkened by the mist. “The Parchments—there’s a lot of them.”
“I’ve been at Sanctuary for a decade. When we weren’t wielding, we were reading. And reading. And reading.”
“We get the idea,” Tokar said.
Drracien shoved a hand through thick hair that hung lazily around his face. “I’ve read the Kindling Parchment so much, I have it memorized.”
Interesting. Thiel folded her arms. “Let me hear it.”
His eyebrow arched. “I could spend the next fifteen minutes numbing your ears with the Abiassian tongue, or we could get on with rescuing your friend. First—the mark.” He reached for Thiel and guided her back to the side. “And why this place matters.”
“The place matters,” Thiel said, feeling a chill skitter across her neck now that she was not by the mist, “because Haegan can jump into the Falls.”
“Uh, no,” Tokar said, standing close to her and tucking his hands under his arms. “No, Haegan is still down in those cages. Beaten and”—he moved his gaze alone to Drracien—“burned.”
“Would you like a demonstration of the spark?” Drracien almost seemed amused.
Challenge and anger flashed through Tokar’s face, and Thiel sensed a confrontation in the works. “The mark.” She brushed her hair from her face and swiped away the dampness. “You said it wasn’t a bruise. What is it?”
