by James Wisher
Damien rolled off the bed and they walked to the door of his room. He opened it and she turned toward him. “Think about what I said. We’d be good together, I know it. I think Lizzy agrees with me. Daddy wants you to come to dinner tomorrow.”
“I—”
She pressed her finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything now. Think about it. We’ll talk again after dinner.”
Chapter 53
When Mikhail entered the library carrying one of the urns Connor allowed himself a brief smile. At last something had gone right. It was a pleasant surprise to see Mikhail succeed for a change. Perhaps the fault for his earlier failures lay more on Connor for believing he could trust the unhinged young man with a complex task. On simple, brute-force jobs, Mikhail served as an outstanding sledgehammer to bludgeon Connor’s enemies.
His armor creaked as he took a knee in front of the black chair and held up the urn. “Success, Master.”
Connor accepted the urn and patted Mikhail on his armored shoulder. The power in the artifact made his fingers tingle. This was the first time he’d seen an urn of binding in person. Its power didn’t disappoint.
“Well done, Mikhail. This success goes a long way toward making up for your earlier mistakes. You had no trouble?”
“None, Master. The two weaklings protecting it were hardly worth my time.”
“You killed them then?”
The helmed head looked away. “No, Master. They hurled the urn in one direction then fled in the other. I allowed the cowards to escape rather than lose the prize.”
Surprised and pleased, Connor let his smile grow. “You’re finally showing a bit of good judgment. Killing two sorcerers is meaningless compared to claiming this artifact. What about the other two?”
Mikhail rose to his feet. “I received no message from the others. Perhaps the remaining urns slipped through their fingers.”
“Perhaps. My spies will let me know eventually.”
Eventually came sooner than Connor expected. A black crystal bird flew into the library, a message clutched in its beak. It appeared his spy in the capital had news. That didn’t bode well. He unrolled the tiny scroll and read the brief message. David was a prisoner and scheduled to undergo questioning within the hour. The urn was locked in the royal vault. Both were under heavy guard. His spy couldn’t get access to either and escape.
Connor snarled and a burst of hellfire incinerated the message. So much for his good mood. David knew far too much to be allowed to talk and the second urn, at least, must be recovered. Two out of three would be sufficient if not ideal.
“Master?”
Connor shook his head. “Problems, Mikhail, always problems.”
Connor gestured and a green crystal bird flew off one of his shelves and landed on the arm of his chair. A second motion brought two scrolls, a quill and ink. He jotted two short notes, gave one to each bird, and sent them on their way. He hated to burn his best spies, but the situation demanded it. He just had to hope Eleck did his part.
Chapter 54
Damien paced in his room. Dinner would be served in the royal apartment soon, but he couldn’t get the previous night’s conversation with Karrie out of his head. He’d talked about it some more with Lizzy after the princess left, but she’d only say that whatever he decided was fine with her. He really wanted her to have a stronger opinion on the matter. He saw Lizzy’s point of view, though. Whatever they felt for each other, Damien’s life was just a moment in her eternal existence.
He barely restrained himself from punching the wall. What should he do? Part of him wanted to help Karrie out of her predicament. Another part couldn’t imagine being married with kids, living in the castle, ruling the kingdom together. It was too much, too big to wrap his head around.
Another problem was David. Damien had spoken to his master that morning and the sorcerer still hadn’t broken. Damien hadn’t thought he had that much willpower. Connor must really terrify him. The questioners were still working and would continue to do so until he broke. According to the archmage it was always when, not if.
Screw it. Thinking wasn’t getting Damien anywhere. After dinner he’d just follow his instincts. His guess was they’d lead him away from Karrie, but who knew for certain. He left his room and made the short walk to the royal apartment. Nothing like an expertly cooked meal to take your mind off your problems. He knocked on the closed door.
“Come in,” Uncle Andy said.
Damien pushed the door open.
“Surprise!” Jen, Dad, Uncle Andy, Queen Audra, John and Karrie yelled together.
Damien grinned. “What’s all this?”
“A late name day party.” Jen hugged him. “We haven’t had a real party for you in four years. I think you earned this one.”
“He certainly did.” Uncle Andy came over and shook his hand. “You’ve done more for the kingdom in a year than some people do in a lifetime. And I’m not just saying that because you saved my life.”
“Thanks,” Damien said.
John was next in line. They bumped fists. “Karrie planned everything. She was very determined.”
Damien glanced at the princess and raised an eyebrow.
“It was John’s idea and he helped with the details. Were you surprised?”
“Yeah. Any more surprised and I might have blasted everyone.” She stared and he grinned. “I’m just kidding. I would have sensed if there was any real threat.”
She slapped his shoulder. “That’s not funny.”
The queen came over, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Did you and my daughter come to an understanding last night? It would be nice to make an announcement at her name day celebration next month.”
So the queen was in on this as well. He couldn’t say that surprised him. “Nothing definite.”
She frowned a little. “Decide quickly. The sooner the matter is settled the better for continuity purposes.”
Queen Audra smiled and passed him off to the last person in line, his father. They shook hands. “I’m glad you came. All quiet back home?”
“As quiet as it’s possible for a fortress full of young warlords to be. I’ve read the reports on your missions. You’ve down well, son.”
Fredric pursed his lips and looked away. Damien had never seen his father so uncertain. “What is it?”
“I’m proud of you and I love you. I probably should have told you that long before now.”
Damien’s lip trembled. He hugged his father for the first time in seven years. “I love you too, Dad.”
When they parted everyone was watching. Damien cleared his throat. “Isn’t there supposed to be food and perhaps gifts?”
That brought a round of awkward laughter. “Dinner won’t be ready for a little while,” Karrie said. “So let’s do gifts. Me first.”
Karrie handed him a small box and Damien said a silent prayer that it didn’t contain a ring. Inside was a gold coin, an old one, marked with a scepter on one side and a sword on the other.
“It’s an Old Empire coin, to commemorate your adventure on the whalers’ ship,” Karrie said.
Damien smiled and pocketed it. “It’s great, thanks.”
Next came a flask from John filled with a healing potion he brewed himself. Uncle Andy and Queen Audra gave him a gold ring with the royal seal engraved on it. The moment he touched it Damien felt remnants of soul force stir in the depths of the metal. Someone had soul forged the ring.
“Amazing, isn’t it? The third ruler of the kingdom was a sorcerer. He left a bit of his power in that ring so no one could counterfeit it. Anyone who sees it will know you speak with my full authority. I can’t think of anyone, except your father, that I would rather trust as my agent.”
Damien’s mind reeled. With that ring Damien could command nobles, generals, even his master. Well, maybe not his master, but still it was a grave responsibility and one he didn’t take lightly. He’d have to weigh everything he said lest someone think he spoke in the king’s name. In fac
t it might be best to cover it with a glove except when absolutely necessary. One thing was certain, he’d never take it off. If someone got ahold of it they could cause a lot of trouble.
“I’m honored by your trust. I won’t let you down.”
Uncle Andy clapped him on the back. “I know you won’t. If I had any doubts I wouldn’t have given it to you.”
Dad came next with a harness of exquisitely tooled back leather. It had two loops, one for his sword and one for his dagger. “I know you’re a sorcerer, but sometimes steel is still best. It’s always better to have a blade than not.”
Damien smiled. That was such a typical Dad thing to say. “It’s perfect, thanks Dad.”
Last came Jen. She approached with empty hands and a sheepish look. “I couldn’t think of anything as great as the sword you made me and anything less seemed like an insult. I thought about it so long I ran out of time and now I don’t have anything for you.”
Damien hugged her. “I’m just glad you’re here. Best. Present. Ever.”
Chapter 55
Karrie certainly went all in on the menu. They were all scrunched in around a dining room table designed for four people and laden with roast beef, vegetables, gravy, and his favorite honey rolls. A cake sat on the kitchen counter waiting for later. Damien piled his plate high and ate with enthusiasm. He sat between Jen and Karrie. If the table was just a little smaller the princess would have ended up on his lap. As it was the three of them were constantly banging elbows.
Damien hadn’t been this happy in a long time. Surrounded by the people he loved, no one trying to kill him, and a plate full of his favorite foods. What could possibly be better? Maybe if Lizzy could leave the sword for an hour and join them.
That’s sweet, but a demon at the dinner table might be a little awkward.
Damien hid a smile at Lizzy’s comment. Sometimes he forgot she was a demon. He thought of her more as an angel that dyed her wings.
A little tremor rattled the silverware. It seemed like they were getting more frequent. Damien’s wine glass shook and the tremor intensified. The table rattled and Karrie grabbed his arm.
Soon the whole room trembled and the glowing stone lamp above the table threatened to vibrate loose. A horrible rumble, like the cry of a giant beast, filled the air as the shaking continued to grow worse. When a crack ran up the wall Damien had had enough.
A golden bubble surrounded the group. Beams of energy shot out, stabilizing furniture and keeping the cake from crashing. The rumbling seemed to go on for far longer than it had any right to.
Five minutes later the last tremor subsided and Damien let the bubble vanish. “Everyone okay?”
Everyone was. Damien checked the strength of the walls and found the cracks shallow and the overall structure still sound. He fused the damaged stone back together and sealed the cracks.
“That was the worst one yet,” Uncle Andy said.
Damien hopped up from the table. “I need to check on Salem and the archmage.”
“Good idea.” Uncle Andy stood up as well. “There may be injured. John, go with Jen and Fredric, make sure everyone’s okay. We’ll head to the throne room. Damage reports will be coming in and we’ll need to organize help for people living in less well built houses. I’m sorry, my boy. It seems your party is going to be cut short.”
“No problem, but I was looking forward to that cake.”
Damien left the others to their tasks and rushed down the hall to check on Salem. He stepped over paintings and repaired minor cracks as he went. It was a good thing they’d built the castle to last. It might have been much worse. He rounded a corner to the guest wing. Someone whimpered nearby. Sitting under a small table, clutching his legs to his chest, was one of the castle’s errand boys.
Damien crouched down and looked the boy in the eye. “It’s over now. You can come out.”
The boy shook his head. “Don’t wanna. Everything’s falling and cracking. I’ll get smushed.”
“You won’t. It’s safe now. We’re starting to clean up and we’ll need your help. Can’t you be brave and come out of there?”
“You sure it’s safe?”
Damien nodded. He was as sure as he could be. “I’m sure. Come on.”
The boy took his hand and crawled out from under the table. “What should I do?”
“You could gather up all the paintings that fell and line them up against the wall. Someone will be along in a little bit to give you something more important to do. Okay?”
The boy nodded. “Thank you.”
Damien ruffled his hair. “Run along.”
He left the boy to his work and jogged on toward the guest rooms. As he ran Damien sent out streams of soul force to check the walls and floors for damage. He found several fissures that required repair, but all in all the castle had come through with little damage.
When he reached Salem’s door he knocked. “Salem? Are you okay?”
The door opened a second later. Salem burst out and hugged him. “I was so scared. Does that happen often?”
Damien rubbed her back. “We’ve been having small tremors off and on for a while, but nothing like this. As far as I know the capital has never experienced a quake this bad.”
“What should I do?”
“I’m going to check on the archmage. You’re welcome to come along. If anyone’s hurt it’d be handy to have someone with me who can heal.”
“Couldn’t you handle the healing?” Salem asked as they quick-marched down the steps and along the back halls to his master’s office.
“No, my soul force is too dense. I’m only good for causing wounds, not healing them.”
Groaning servants and staggering guards leaned against walls or in some cases sat in the middle of the hall. No one looked hurt, just shaken up. They kept moving, weaving their way through the occasional knot of people. Whenever anyone asked, Damien sent them to the throne room. Uncle Andy would have a better idea of what needed to be done.
They rounded a corner that led to the archmage’s office just in time to see her leaving. Damien waved. “Master!”
She stopped and turned his way. “The royals?”
“Everybody’s fine. They’re in the throne room organizing the cleanup. Dad and Jen are nearby.”
“Good. I sent four Legionnaires as well. If someone wanted to attack this would be a perfect time. I’m headed to the dungeon to check on the prisoner. Come on.”
Damien and Salem fell in behind the archmage who stalked through the halls with such a grim expression that cleaning servants and disoriented guards alike scrambled to clear a path. She almost seemed to take the quake personally, like nature had decided to annoy her on purpose. As if nature would dare.
The door leading down to the dungeon was open and hung slightly askew. The quake must have shifted the frame a fraction.
“Smells wet,” Salem said.
Damien sniffed. The air did have a damp smell to it, damper than usual that is. He hoped the cistern hadn’t cracked, that would be a pain to fix.
At the bottom of the stairs no lake waited for them to wade through, which came as a relief. All the cell doors appeared to be locked tight. There were three big puddles, but nothing major. If the archmage noted any of this she gave no sign.
They rounded a bend to the interrogation room and found Alden and Imogen lying unconscious on the ground outside. Inside the room David slumped facedown on the table, blood from a slashed throat dripping to the floor.
Soul force still flowed in the unconscious sorcerers. They were both still alive, thank heaven.
His master slammed her fist on the table. “Damn it! He was our best lead.”
Two cups lay on the floor beside the unconscious sorcerers, their contents spilled on the stones. A quick scan revealed poison. He couldn’t tell exactly what kind, but it must have been what knocked them out. “Salem, can you revive them?”
“I can try.” A glow spread from her hands to Alden.
Damien
left her to work and joined the archmage beside David’s body. “Poison, Master.”
She held up a dart. “Here too. Probably shot David from the intersection and while it was working the assassin brought our thirsty questioners some nice, cool wine.”
“It must have been a servant.”
“Or someone posing as a servant. How much do you want to bet our mystery person let the Soul Knife assassin sneak in as well.”
“No bet. A spy in our midst would certainly explain a lot.”
“Yes. It seems David was right to be worried.”
A groan came from out in the hall. They turned in time to see Alden sit up and rub his head. Salem had begun healing Imogen.
“What happened?” the archmage asked.
“Damned if I know. One minute I’m sipping a lovely red wine and the next I’m waking up with the worst headache I’ve had in years.”
“You’re lucky to be waking up at all.” Damien turned to his master. “Why wouldn’t the spy kill Alden and Imogen as well? A lethal poison would have done the trick even if they had a shield up.”
“Most deadly poisons take longer to act. Our spy was in a hurry. The question is, why?”
Damien’s stomach churned. “Master, how secure is the urn?”
“Oh, no.”
“Salem, are you good?” Damien asked.
She nodded, not looking up from Imogen.
“Alden, find the guards,” the archmage said. “We haven’t seen a patrol since we got here. They may be in trouble. Damien and I will check the vault.”
Alden waved. “Will do.”
The royal vault was off the throne room behind a thick iron door. A guard stood behind the locked door at all times. When they arrived the door hung open and the guard lay in a pool of blood. That would be the dead fellow at their feet. Damien and his master shared a look. Heavy, iron-bound chests filled the room, each holding several thousand gold royals. Smaller chests held jewelry and gems. None of them appeared tampered with.
The archmage walked over to an empty shelf and ran her finger over it. She turned back to Damien. “We’re too late. The urn is gone.”
