The Sapphire Manticore (The Lost Ancients Book 4)

by Marie Andreas

  Alric started to unwrap it, then stopped. “This is even more disturbing than the relics. They affected the past, but this is our future. We have wondered about traitors trying to undermine control of the enclave for a while now, but I’d say we should have started worrying earlier.”

  Everyone was silent as he unwrapped the wooden box. It was smaller than I recalled, but given the excitement when it was found, I can’t be blamed for a faulty memory.

  He didn’t open it, but held it up so that everyone could see the mark on it. Padraig and Siabiane looked terrified.

  “I don’t recognize the crest, and Flarinen didn’t either. But it is clearly a mark of one of the noble families,” Alric said.

  Siabiane reached out as if to ask to see it, then pulled her hand back as if burnt. “It is. It was one of the oldest of them all. An ancestor of both your and Flarinen’s family lines. However, that line was destroyed over fifteen hundred years ago. Long before the Breaking.”

  A heavy silence filled the room. The three elves from this enclave were now all freaked out, Harlan, Covey, and Orenda looked extremely concerned, and Tag was still trying to figure out what was going on. He sat there wide-eyed, snacking on a mountain of sandwiches he’d piled in front of him.

  Padraig looked far more shaken than I’d seen him. He also looked about ready to throw up. “Do you mean the Drachdhaoine? But they all died, long ago. I was a boy, but my father died in that battle.”

  Orenda’s eyes narrowed a bit and she tried to look closer at the mark. If it happened before the Breaking, her people might have had some rumors of the name—if the family was as awful as the other’s reactions were telling me they were.

  Siabiane finally reached out and took the chest from Alric. Probably a good thing since it looked like it was going to tumble out of his hands.

  “This is definitely their mark.” She closed her eyes and passed her hand over it, but didn’t touch it. “And it’s fresh.” Her eyes opened. “This is no more than a few months old.”

  Alric still seemed in shock, so I answered. “The area I found it in looked newly dug. That smithy was old, but the planking over this had been recently placed. I don’t understand, couldn’t someone else be using their mark? You all act like the ghosts chasing us yesterday weren’t the only people who came back from the grave.”

  “It’s better to demonstrate,” Siabiane said, then handed a piece of paper and a charcoal stick to Covey. “As an academic, I assume your rendering skills are superior?” At Covey’s nod, she continued. “Then please draw Alric’s mark.”

  “Alric?” Siabiane called his name. Although I couldn’t see it, he must still have had his glamour up.

  He shook his head, freeing himself from whatever dark thoughts were lurking there and gestured toward his face. He looked the same to me.

  That could be an unexpected side effect of me not being able to see glamours—I wouldn’t know if someone was using one. Another issue to discuss with Alric at some point.

  Covey’s swearing took me away from trying to see the difference between Alric in glamour and not in glamour. I knew Covey could draw very well. She pretty much only did it when she needed the skill, but she was good.

  She almost broke the charcoal she was using in frustration, and then finally held up the paper. It looked like a child’s drawing of a bunch of circles and sticks. Alric’s mark almost looked like a stylized horse, and while there were a lot of circles and curved lines in it, it didn’t look anything like Covey’s attempt.

  Siabiane nodded and silently handed Alric a paper and charcoal. His sketch was crude and fast, but it matched his mark completely.

  “The marks were passed down to the first families millennia ago. Aside from hiding behind a glamour spell and even then only a very strong magic user can do it—that is why Flarinen cannot hide his, much to his annoyance—magic cannot be used on them. They also act as a seal or signature. No one except a member of that line can duplicate the mark in any form. Covey could try for years and it would never work.”

  All of this was bad news, and we hadn’t even shown them what was inside the chest. I could still feel the book from the chest that I’d picked up and held—the feeling of it trying to devour my soul was something that I wasn’t ever going to forget. Part of me really didn’t want them to open the chest.

  Siabiane must have been thinking the same thing, or even if she didn’t know what was in it, the fact a supposedly long dead noble line, obviously full of some very bad people, was alive in one way or another, was giving her pause as to what might be in that chest.

  She finally sighed and opened the chest. The book I’d touched was on top, and I was about to tell her to be careful when all ten faeries, Bunky, and a bleating gargoyle came flying into the room as if a dragon were chasing them.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Bunky was buzzing and looking agitated, the gargoyle was bleating, and the faeries were all shouting at once and brandishing war sticks.

  Crap, what had they done now?

  “Settle, my friends; I’m sure it’s all right.” Siabiane closed the chest and put it down by her feet. “Come down here and tell me what is wrong. One of you,” she added when the faeries all started her way.

  “They are trying to tell you that you are all under arrest for conspiracy against the monarchy.” Flarinen was suddenly standing in the open doorway, fully armored, and armed. He was surrounded by a large number of knights.

  I first suspected some sort of magic had transported them there. Even with the faeries and Bunky making all that noise, we should have heard armored boots approaching. I knew Flarinen didn’t have the skill to transport them. Aside from making dead bodies vanish, no one did. But he could possibly have the skills to muffle their footsteps.

  Everyone who had them reached for their weapons. I looked to see where the gargoyle was. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew I didn’t want our little friends going on this trip.

  The gargoyle was flying near Bunky and both were about as high as they could go. The faeries had their war sticks out and were looking like they were going to take on Flarinen and all of his men.

  I focused on Garbage Blossom and aimed a thought right at her. “You need to leave, all of you. Protect yourselves, protect Bunky and the gargoyle. Flee!”

  Garbage spun and looked me in the eye, then nodded, gave a horrific war cry, and dove toward the knights. They were so startled that even Flarinen ducked, which left enough room for the faeries, Bunky, and the gargoyle to fly out over their heads.

  “Under whose authority do you dare such an accusation? I will take this up with Queen Jelinath myself.” Siabiane appeared a good foot taller and looked mad enough to snap Flarinen in half with her hands.

  “Under my authority, and don’t try to use magic, I was unable to catch your flying friends before they escaped, but I have successfully blocked all of your magical abilities.” The voice came before the man, and it took me a second to realize who it was.

  “Lorcan?” I couldn’t believe he betrayed us.

  “Close, my child, so close. I am Reginald. I have borrowed my brother’s body since I seem to have misplaced mine.” The grin was lopsided and evil. “He didn’t need it anymore.”

  Siabiane charged forward, but her feet froze in place.

  “You killed him? You bastard. I’ll kill you like I did the first time.” Her hands became claws and I could tell whatever magic dampening field he’d created was working.

  “Tsk, tsk, I told you I stopped your magic. You never did tell him about me, did you? Wanted to let him have fond memories of his little brother. His crazy, harmless, brother. Who accidentally killed those people.” He stepped forward, pushing aside the knights who seemed frozen, and cupped her cheek. She was shaking but couldn’t move. “He thought I was harmless until it was too late.”

  “You son of a bitch,” Padraig yelled as he charged forward, his sword in his hands, but within three steps he was locked in place. He couldn’t
even move his mouth. Alric launched himself at the same time but was frozen in mid-air.

  Reginald giggled and let him drop to the floor.

  “Anyone else wish to try me? You’ll find you can’t move or speak, sorry about that.” He faced me. “I’m sure I could find a nice shadow monster from the nether hells to play with you. We wouldn’t even be here if my original plan hadn’t failed. Thanks in part to your flying friends. I really am very upset about them getting away.”

  I was frozen, but I felt my sword vanish. Considering both Alric and Padraig still had theirs on them, I hoped my sword took off on its own and not because of something Reginald did.

  “None of them can move now,” Reginald said and waved his hand at the knights and they all shook their heads as if they’d been in a trance. He must have had a spell on them too, or at least was blocking them from finding out who he really was. They hadn’t reacted at all to his last exchange. Of course, now that none of us could talk, there was no one to tell them the truth. “Tie them all up. There’s no reason to be gentle, they are traitors after all.” He looked down at the package wrappings on the ground. “And take that, but make sure to wrap it carefully. No one can open it without my approval, is that clear?”

  I couldn’t move my head, but my eyes could move. I could see the chest, but there were only wrappings where the relics had been. I had no idea where they were. I hadn’t been watching them when Flarinen and his men came in. I did know, however, that megalomaniac ghosts who killed their own brothers shouldn’t get them.

  Flarinen nodded and wrapped the chest up. I really didn’t know if he and the other knights were bad or being duped. Reginald could have been keeping them out of the loop even if they were on his side. Nevertheless, there was no confusion on Flarinen’s face as he carried out the wrapped chest. We were the enemy, and if ordered to do so, I had no doubt he’d kill all of us.

  Even though we weren’t handled with care, there didn’t seem to be any excessive abuse while we were being picked up and loaded into a huge wagon. At least not of my friends or myself. Padraig and Alric were another issue completely. They both would have plenty of bruises if we survived this.

  I thought I saw a faery in the far distance, hovering over the trees. However, the wagon door shut before I could be sure.

  Darkness filled the wagon as soon as the door was shut. I couldn’t tell if there were no windows or if they were covered.

  Unfortunately, while the spell kept me from moving, talking, or doing anything to fight back, it didn’t block me from feeling pain.

  The wagon was big, far larger than any I’d been in or seen, but it still wasn’t large enough to hold eight people lying on the floor. We were piled on top of each other like firewood, overlapping uncomfortably.

  The wagon started moving, but it rocked in an odd manner and I didn’t hear the clopping of hooves. Before I could really think about how we were moving a different darkness filled the wagon. It had been dark before, but my eyes had adjusted enough to see how much darker it was getting. The new darkness was heavy too; it flowed down from a vent or maybe a blocked window, but then dropped to cover all of us. I felt a twitch from whoever was lying on my legs, and then the darkness swallowed me.

  ***

  I’m a dreamer. I often don’t remember my dreams, but I knew I had them. Waking from the dark smoke caused sleep felt like waking from a void. There was nothing but terror in my mind as I realized I was awake but couldn’t see, couldn’t move, couldn’t speak—and for a few horrifying moments, couldn’t remember why.

  Things weren’t that much better when I recalled the reasons for my current situation and where we were going. I’d always imagined what the elves would have been like, but this wasn’t how I’d ever expected it would be.

  The odd movement of the wagon slowed and the sounds of normal city life could be heard. They gained in volume, as if we’d been somehow moving outside of range of hearing them before, but now that we slowed down, sound was catching up with us.

  We clattered through the city, at least I assumed that was where we were going, so we could stand trial for something we didn’t do, and probably be killed. That was one of the things I didn’t get. Reginald could have easily killed us all at Siabiane’s home if that was his goal. He clearly had enough power to kill his brother and take his body. Not to mention the power it must have taken to stop three very powerful magic users. He obviously had another use for us.

  We started to slow down when I felt a stabbing in my chest. Not like a knife, but more as if someone started poking me with a pair of sticks.

  Or very tiny faery legs.

  In all the ruckus, I’d forgotten that Leaf and Crusty were sleeping off their chocolate binge in my shirt. Now they were waking up. I couldn’t let Reginald and whomever he was working with find them, but there was no way out of this wagon that I could tell. Maybe if both faeries flew out the instant the door was open, they might escape. But if Reginald was the one opening the door, I couldn’t count on him not being able to slap a spell on them. The rest of the girls and their construct escorts got away by surprising him. That wouldn’t happen again, and we were now on his turf.

  My mental calling had worked to get the rest of the faeries to safety. Hopefully Leaf and Crusty would obey me. “Crusty? Leaf?” I focused very hard on the two of them and a bunch of ale bottles to get their attention. “I need you both to stay very quiet. We are in danger.” I smashed the image of the ale bottles for emphasis. “You can’t move, make a sound, or do anything until I tell you.” I waited then realized we’d never been able to get the communication to go both ways and it was crucial they heard me. I heard handlers coming forward to take care of the horses, and they’d be opening that door in no time.

  “If you understand, kick me once, then no more movement until I tell you.”

  I felt one kick, then a second double kick. Most likely Crusty trying to make sure both feet were represented. Then both were still. At least that was something. As long as no one frisked me, they’d be safe. Since the knights hadn’t searched me when they grabbed me, I doubt they would now. Reginald was too cocky in his ability to control all of us to worry about mundane things like knives.

  The wagon creaked to a halt and a stabbing light blinded me. It was only the wagon door opening, but the darkness had been so extreme inside the wagon, light was a new torture. It could also have been a residual from the smoke spell that had knocked us all out.

  “Put cloths over their heads, we don’t want anyone to see them at this time.” That was Flarinen, Reginald obviously having given over our care to him. I was one of the first ones put in, so I was one of the last taken out. A knight grabbed me by my shoulders, another by my legs and they slapped a bag over my head. Then they moved me to a chair and started wheeling me forward. I’d seen wheeled chairs used for invalids in Beccia, but never for prisoners. Probably because Beccia didn’t spell their prisoners to be immobile. I never imagined I would ever think Beccia was more civilized than a bunch of elves, but that was the case.

  The knight moving my chair seemed to be going out of his way to find the roughest path he could, and once even had to reach down and grab my shoulder to keep me from falling out of my chair on a particularly bumpy section.

  It was eerie, knowing that my friends were around me but not hearing anything beyond the wheels of the chairs as they made their way over rocks.

  I seriously doubted the way to the main prison for the kingdom was accessed through a rock-strewn path.

  Which meant, his words and usage of the knights aside, Reginald might not be working with royal approval. That could work in our favor. Being tried as traitors in front of the king, queen, and council was bad. But if it was some power play from Reginald, maybe it wasn’t as bad?

  Yeah, I didn’t buy what I was selling—not even in my own head.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  “Bring them through the back,” Flarinen said. “They need to be locked up before the inquisitor gets
here. He wants to see all of them before the trial.”

  The guard pushing me grunted in acknowledgement, and the chair picked up speed.

  Flarinen sounded closer. “Are you with Reginald’s men? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

  The chair slowed down and I felt the knight’s hand on my shoulder tighten. “Yes, he recruited me directly. I work closely with the inquisitor.” There was a sinister twist to the last bit and I figured I really didn’t want to meet the inquisitor.

  “That’s fine then, move along.” Apparently, neither did Flarinen.

  The knight slowed down after a sharp turn, then removed the fabric over my head. Either the other chairs were too far ahead for me to see, or we were all going to different areas. As much as I would have liked to see before we came inside, just to get a feel for what building we were in if nothing else, I really could have done without seeing now.

  I didn’t know if this was the main prison, a side prison, or Reginald’s own private play yard, but it was not welcoming.

  Not that I thought a prison would be cheery and welcoming, but I expected more professional pride from an elven prison. Unless, like my earlier thought suggested, this wasn’t the one the royals would have locked us up in.

  The way in wasn’t one long hall, but a series of twists and turns as if this was added after whatever building it was in was already completed and just squished in wherever it could go. The knight pushing me slowed down more and more on each turn. I felt my ability to move slowly coming back, but I didn’t want to chance turning around. The ropes meant my recovery would be severely limited, but even a little movement was a good thing. Turning around would let him know I was recovering.

  Then the knight pushing my chair stopped.

  This was potentially very bad. My hands were tied and I was pretty sure that Reginald had somehow transferred his magic blocking spell to the ropes when he had us tied up. At least the jolt I got slammed with the moment I tried a spell gave good indication of that. Good idea on his part then he didn’t have to be around any of us to keep us magically blocked. Bad for me and the rest of the magic users he’d captured.